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ivorydragoness44 · 1 year

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Darth Maul x Reader: From Our Scars

Darth Maul x Reader: From Our Scars Part 1:

Word Count: 6,894 Warnings: Maul self-harms himself to gain clarity on whether the Reader is truly his soulmate (a little cut on his already exposed chest), blood mention because of Maul being dramatic, angst, Reader’s utter bewilderment A/N: I honestly don’t know how many times I have re-read this. But I swear that I have character development planned for the Reader. They are very hesitant and have absolutely no clue as to what is going on at the moment, but we’ll get there! Summary: Over ten years later, the Reader finally meets Maul, their soulmate, and gets swept up into his task of assembling his Shadow Collective.

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Over a decade had passed and the Clone Wars were well underway. The years had granted you new clients and commissions. One in particular sent your life in a different direction than you had initially intended. The lava planet of Mustafar. Instead of making original pieces of art for your clients, you now worked with the Black Sun. Sometimes, you had once concluded, you have to make difficult choices in order to survive. With the Black Sun, they commissioned you to create replicas of expensive paintings and such found throughout the galaxy to sell in the criminal underworld. The wary you held at first was obviously present, but the pay was all too good to pass up during the war.

Presently, the day was progressing like any other. You were busy applying a coat of gloss over the surface of a painting. It both enhanced the colors and gave a kind of seal on top. Nothing too fancy or elaborate. The entry door slid open. The intrusion was irregular and disrupted the quiet sanctuary you had away from the inner workings of the Black Sun fortress. The front room was filled with art supplies, all strictly organized. There is where you worked, usually days in a row. “They work in here,” you heard Ziton Moj say. He was one of the large Falleen species that helped make up the number of members. It was rare, even scarcely so, that anyone was brought into your workplace. They typically let you work in peace. Any distraction could hinder the work and its process. At least, that is what you had warned them in the past. With only a few instances, it never happened. They wanted their credits, so they agreed to let you work on your own terms. When the varying footsteps entered the room, you ignored. Any being that was vaguely interested only wanted to see the products of your labor. “What is this?” One of them asked somewhere behind you. His voice was deep and would make anyone wary, but there was a light curiousness within it. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” “Yes…” a voice much smoother agreed. “Such artistry must generate a plethora of credits for the Black Sun.” A curiosity spared within yourself. From hearing some of their comments, you finally turned to acknowledge them. There, matching the hulking Falleen, was an orange Zabrak. The armor on his shoulders alone identified him as a warrior to you. The other, a Zabrak with red colorations, whose presence compensated from their height difference. That, and those strikingly intricate tattoos.

“New customers?” You asked of Ziton Moj. He opened his mouth to speak, but the red Zabrak responded first. “I am Maul,” he stated, and indicated to the Zabrak beside him. “This is Savage.” Likewise, you introduced yourself. Their names hung in your mind, different than that of the Falleen noblemen residing in the Black Sun fortress. “As one of Black Sun’s…associates, you should know that it is now under my command and a part of the Shadow Collective.” An army of crime lords, great, you internally sighed. “And what does that mean for me?” “Rest assured that your talents,” he eyed the artwork around the room, “will still be of use to the Collective.” Nodding, you absentmindedly bit the inside of your cheek. Within seconds, your future was unclear. If anything, there may have been a chance for you to return to Naboo. Not that the planet would be the same since you had seen it last.

His eyes peered down. From the angle, you assumed that he was eyeing your exposed mid-drift. However brief, your lips created a flat line in disapproval. Maul hardly turned to his companions. “Ready the ships. We need the supplies loaded aboard in good time,” a smooth assertiveness in his voice as he instructed them. Savage nodded in confirmation and Ziton’s expression was nothing shy of annoyed obligation. In fact, a thought had occurred to you. How did this Maul persuade the leaders of the Black Sun to give over their authority? Much less to a complete stranger.

As the door closed behind their retreating forms, you were left alone with this one called Maul. It was quiet. By the silent pause, you initially thought he was going to ask about your art career with Black Sun and elsewhere. Those putting their valuable credits in your hands usually wanted to see an example of your past work. It was only logical. Thankfully, you felt no ill intent from him. However, you could easily see by the way he carried himself that he was powerful, and he knew it. Then again, you still did not know him or what he was truly capable of. Maul refocused his attention on you. “When did you get your scar?” The question surprised you. Never had someone asked ‘when’. It was always: ‘how’ or ‘what happened’. that, and it was nowhere near where you thought a conversation with him would go. Blinking, you tried to formulate a coherent response. You looked down briefly and touched the scar gently with your fingertips. “It’s a soulmate mark,” you said quietly. Looking over his face, you could not read a single reaction. At least he was listening intently. Those golden eyes baring into you. “I used to live on Naboo…before the start of the Clone Wars. I was a different artist then. One day, the Trade Federation blockaded the planet. We couldn’t get any resources or the off-world supplies that we needed. In the coming days, I heard a commotion of ships fighting. It was around that time that I discovered the new scar. It never healed—faded since that day…not like the others.” You shrugged, having made peace with it years ago. “They died that day. I just hope it was quick and painless. Even for someone I’ve never met.” You did not want to dwell too much on the subject. If you did, past emotions tended to resurface. It remained quiet between the pair of you. There was no sense of awkwardness. Looking back up at him, you could tell that the metaphorical gears were turning thoughts in his mind. The way his eyes shifted around to different points on the floor, and a thoughtful crease appeared on his brow ridge. Molten, almost glowing eyes. His searching eyes landed on something of interest. Stepping away from you, hands clasped behind his back, he walked around to another table. There, he grabbed something off of the cloth that you had laid out to dry on well before you had visitors that day. Your brows furrowed in your confusion. It made you wonder if he always acted in such a manner. Then, your eyes went wide when he turned and you saw the item he had chose. Out of all the tools he could have picked, he had to choose the palette knife. “What are you doing?” You asked of him, voice pitching in alarm. It was not as if you knew what he was going to use it for, if at all. He paused before pressing the blade against his skin, making a shallow cut on his exposed abdomen. “Don’t do that!” You mildly panicked, rushing around the table. Snatching the knife away, you found yourself scolding him. “This is an art tool, not a weapon! At least that’ not it’s intended use.” A response, any, would be expected, normal even. However, his mouth remained shut. The flurry of emotions prickled out of your skin. You huffed, his eyes not even meeting your own. Looking down his chest, the cut was steadily bleeding. The red blood slowly trailed down his tattooed skin. You made a move to get a clean cloth for him, but he stopped you by a quick grab to your wrist; firm and restraining. The twisted look of confusion on your face when you looked at him would have even sent a Neimoidian into a fit of explanations. But not Maul. “You’re bleeding, for goodness sake.” It had been a long while since you last had your heart rate pick up to such a speed. The level of shock you were experiencing from someone casually harming themselves was beyond comprehension at the moment. You could not understand his actions. Not that you would, he had not said a word. Maul’s eyes bore right into yours. “Show me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “What?” You asked, exasperated and clearly not understanding. Maul gestured to the equivalent area on you where his cut was located. You paused, awareness slowly coming to you. Even so, you did not want to acknowledge it in words in your mind. Hesitantly, yet with a rising curiosity, you lifted your top almost a hand’s width distance upward. You froze when you saw a colored mark equal in its shape and angle to his on your skin. You breath hitched. How could this possibly be? Looking between your markings, you tried to grasp onto any sense. There was no possible explanation in the entire galaxy that came to mind. Maul simply stared at your marking, still holding onto your wrist. Words were trying to form in your mind as emotions swelled in your fight with disbelief of the situation. Your eyes followed one crimson droplet as it glided down his torso. “How-how are you alive?” You finally asked through your uncertainty. Beginning to brim with tears, your eyes met his. He removed his hand from your wrist. “I will always survive,” he said with an air of menace. From his response, you could not tell if his thoughts brought more anger or sorrow. With any hope, you would find out someday. If he was willing. He was alive, your soulmate. You gave a soft laugh, your chest heaved with an irregular and much needed breath, still trying to wrap your mind around the new information. Peering down to his blinking belt and further down, you saw it. From his knees down, there was some kind of durasteel. He wore no boots. Cybernetics. Realization struck you of how everything below his belt, your soulmate mark, had to be cybernetic. So much for a detail oriented artist. Somehow, someway, Maul’s body had been severed in half and he survived. At least, or so it appeared, he received cybernetics to help with his mobility. Placing your hand gently on his shoulder, you spoke. “I’m sorry for what you had to go through. It looks to me that you could probably handle almost anything. And…I wish no ill will toward you and…hope that maybe we can get to know one another—in time.” His head tilted in the slightest, his eyes studying yours as if accessing whether or not you were being truthful. “Are you willing to leave this place?” Again, his question was not what you expected. The prospect had crossed your mind before, but you never knew exactly how in a safe way. You were so deep into Black Sun that you were not sure if a way out was even possible. However, with Maul now leading, things were likely going to keep changing. Maul’s expression was gentle, hopeful even as he waited for your response. With certainty, you finally answered. “Yes.” Knowing that from that moment onward, your life would be taking another turn. “Is there any work that you need to finish here, or are you able to come with us for the time being?” “This was my last one,” you said, pointing at the art piece with the coat of gloss drying. “But,” you paused in thought, “wherever you are going…what would be my purpose? How could I possibly be of help?” For the first time that you had seen, he smiled softly. “You have managed to survive and make a living among criminals, I can only assume that you are resourceful. Are you not?” As if on professional instinct, you became defensive, and almost listed off your resumé. “I’ve worked by commission for years. I can negotiate with the most unsavory of people.” “Good,” he nodded in approval. “You will make an excellent advisor.” “Do you plan on making many negotiations?” “Yes,” he said simply. His expression was parsecs away from the hard look he had on his face when he first entered the room. “For now, I must inspect the progress that should be happening outside. We require supplies,” he added, following your curious expression. “When would we be leaving?” He paused, likely not wanting to blindly trust you so quickly, but soulmate instinct must have said otherwise. Taking a breath, he said, “We have a base on the planet Zanbar. I…wish for you to remain there with me for a time. What I’m planning…it may not be safe for you to follow in it’s entirety.” You nodded. “In a time of war…when is it not dangerous?” Letting the new information sink in, you gathered your courage for the next chapter of your life. “I suppose that I should pack a few things,” you said, setting the palette knife down. Remembering, you glanced down at his wound. “Firstly, at least let me get you something to clean the blood.” There was not so much of a pause this time before he nodded in acceptance. Turning away from him, you walked into the adjoining room. You could easily hear as Maul followed behind you. So close that the door did not slide shut before he entered. “The refresher is right there,” you pointed toward the sealed door. You doubted that he would tolerate you tending to his wound. “Help yourself. I’ll be getting some of my belongings together in here.” He gave a single nod and entered the refresher.

In one singular bag, you hoped to store items that you deemed necessities. going through what belongings you owned, you chose at least two spare outfits. There was doubt for excessive wardrobe changes. Not that you would. Living in what was your current living situation meant simplicity. Not that you ever had the time to roam through stalls of marketplaces on other planets. Diving your hand into a small compartment of your bag, you sighed in relief when you pulled out your galactic identification card. Just in case a situation arose and you were in need of it. Venturing around your living quarters, you continued gathering a few other items. If it were a permanent move, it would have been easier to pack everything and call it a day. By the time you were lining up the various items on your bed, Maul walked out of the refresher. “Did you find everything all right?” You asked, looking up at him as you folded a shirt tightly. “Yes.” You gave him a smile and he stepped over. There was enough personal space between, especially with you side stepping by your bed as you grabbed and packed belongings. Maul observed your progress for a minute or so before returning to his questions. “Tell me…how did an artist from Naboo get to be with the likes of the Black Sun?” A short breathy laugh escaped your lips. You had figured that it would only be a matter of time before he began to ask such questions. And so, you were forced to remember. “There was a time where I finally decided to…expand my horizons. I listed an art portfolio on the holonet. I suppose…I know that having a few artistic studies of other artists’ styles is why they contacted me. At least…I found out eventually.” You shrugged, “But once the Clone War began, they offered an opportunity that I could not turn down. I needed the credits.” He remained silent and attentive, so you continued. “I didn’t know who they were or anything at the time, so I’m surprised that they agreed to a trial period.” Maul’s brow ridge furrowed. “I completed a few commissions to see if I could—wanted to do it full-time. Needless to say, the pay was great, but…it still felt entirely wrong. It was a low point in my life that I won’t bore you with. I’m only a means of currency to them, that’s why I had asked you of my place in this—this change.” Old emotions threatened to flood to the surface, so you adjusted your focus. “If I may ask, what were you doing after Naboo?” Looking elsewhere, you thought he was not going to reply. His jaw clenched. “I was left forgotten on the trash pile that is Lotho Minor.” Your face twisted in disgust, appalled and sad for his past circumstance. From his expression, you wanted to read carefully. “H-how long were you—” “Over ten years.” “Years?” You gawked, eyes wide. “Unfortunately, the Clone War had started without me.” Initially, his word choice struck you as odd. After all, you had much to learn about this mysterious soulmate of yours. “You wanted to be a part of the war?” “I was meant to be…but it is too late for that. So, I have my own plans that I am setting into motion.” From the look on your face, he said, “All will reveal itself in due time. For now, I work with the Mandalorians to aide me in gathering together the criminals of the galaxy.” Maul gazed around your room for a moment, gesturing toward your bag. “If you are finished here, we can leave. I trust that you have all that you require?” Slipping on a less revealing tunic over your top, to hide your soulmate scar, there was only on last thing. Reaching over for the strap of your bag, you slung it over your shoulder. “I’m ready,” you have a firm nod. It was finally time to put Mustafar and this life behind you.

Never had you seen such activity before. Maul and yourself had made your way outside, walking down the pathways to the ships. There were so many people involved with their individual and shared tasks at once. The pair of you stopped when he silently deemed a suitable vantage point. From there, together you could watch over the progress of the Mandalorians and the Black Sun as they gathered and loaded supplies into the ships. To top it off, it was the first time you had laid eyes on a Mandalorian. Much less an army of them, each wearing matching armor. There, the two of you remained. The groups appeared almost endless as both the Mandalorians of Maul’s Shadow Collective and the Black Sun paced back and forth between their ships and the citadel. However, your focus was not completely on them alone. This Zabrak beside you held your curiosity and it only seemed to grow the long you were beside him. For over ten years you thought your soulmate had been lost forever, and now, you were swaying between disbelief and the need to know him. Who was he before Lotho Minor, and what led him to such a foul fate? With all of the soulmate scars you had encountered in your life, you certainly had questions about his lifestyle.

Some minutes passed before Savage returned to Maul’s side. “All of the supply crates are getting loaded. They are almost finished,” said Savage, Maul remained standing with his hands behind his back. “Good. We are making good time. Do take our advisor to our ship. They need to be properly settled in before we depart Mustafar,” he instructed, gesturing toward you softly. “It will be done, brother,” Savage nodded, looking to you expectantly. It was a wonder if at some point you would stop creating more questions for yourself. Again, it was best to leave such a question for another time. Giving a short glance to Maul’s neutral expression, you walked alongside his brother toward the ship. Each ship on the platform was sleek with rotating wings that held an upright position in its stagnant form. Not that you knew much about such a topic, but the set of space crafts looked more like fast fighters than ones meant for carrying any significant amount of cargo.

“You and Maul are brothers?” You asked, despite yourself. “Yes, though we did not grow up together,” he replied, the pair of you stepping up the narrow ramp of the ship. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” After a pause, and walking through an entry door, he coughed suddenly, as if to clear his throat. “Your art…do you have assistants that help you?” When you peered over at him, his entire body was stiff. His head was held straight to avoid you full glance, his eyes shifting in your direction. You smiled. “No. I’m the only one who works on my art. I doubt Black Sun wanted to spend the extra credits if I had ever asked. I’ve gotten along just fine on my own.” Savage nodded in acknowledgement and led you to what you assumed would be where you would be waiting out during the travels. There was an array of glowing buttons on every panel, and one large viewport to the front. You were sure by the time Maul boarded, there would not be a seat for everyone, not that you minded at the moment. If it was a short travel to the base he had mentioned, you were willing to stand. Anything to get off of Mustafar, to be honest. Standing off to your right, Savage spoke up again. This time, at least, he looked less wary. “Your artwork…I’ve never seen any quite like it. It’s amazing.” Your knees would have buckled beneath you if you were not already standing so rigid. “Thank you. I-I don’t remember the last time anyone complimented my work without wanting something in return.” He hung his head, thoughts visibly running through his mind. “Did you receive training to master your craft? My brother has been teaching me.” You hummed, finally someone genuinely curious with no ulterior motive. “A little of both. Training and self-taught. What, if I may ask, are you being trained for?” Just as your question finished leaving your lips, the door slid open. Maul entered alone. “You arrived sooner than expected brother,” said Savage, looking at him curiously. “The loading of the supplies are near completion, and…Pre Vizsla’s own plan to take control of Mandalore is flawed. This is his opportunity to learn from a real master.” Standing in the middle of the room, he glanced between Savage and yourself. “Pre Vizsla?” You asked. “Yes,” he replied simply. “He is the leader of the Mandalorian Death Watch. You will see him shortly.” Nodding slowly as you reviewed the new information, you said, “There are plenty of new names for me to learn today.” “Yes, and you will learn each relevant name in time. As my negotiations advisor, you will know them all.” “You have given them this title?” Asked a very confused Savage. Maul looked directly at him then. “They have made negotiations with the Black Sun before. I trust that their expertise will be beneficial in our cause.” The much larger Zabrak nodded but made no further comment. There was a moment’s silence before Maul’s eyes flashed to the door in-front of him. Roughly two seconds later, three of those fully armored Mandalorians entered the ship. You stepped further back into the corner opposing Savage to make room for the new occupants. One, made their way into the piloting seat, working the panels right away. A slender but no less intimidating one gave you no more than a side-glance as they passed to stand between you and the pilot. “All supplies have been loaded onto the ships,” said the man you assumed had to be Pre Vizsla. “Then we are ready to depart,” Maul said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Set course back to Zanbar.” Remaining quiet, you peered beyond the helmeted individuals as the ship began to ascend. You let out an inaudible sigh as the dark molten planet fell out of view. It had been far too long since you had flown anywhere, especially through space. Had you prepared yourself mentally or emotionally for such a change in your day-to-day life of the past few years? No, but hopefully there would be time for that later. As long as there were no more weighty surprises for the rest of the day, you were sure to be fine. As the ship left the Mustafarian atmosphere, your focus shifted to the other passengers. The three Mandalorians, aside from their obvious armor, colored in hues of grey, blue, and white, were more than well suited. Harnessed to their backs were jetpacks. This definitely was an evening of firsts to you, considering you had never seen a jetpack in-person. Beyond that, you were surprised with yourself for missing one very important detail. Everyone had a weapon. Blasters rested on the hips of the armored three. Pre Vizsla appeared to have an extra accessory tucked in with his jetpack. It could have been a sword. That knowledge in-particular, you were uncertain of. Then again, how many weapons could be on their person that you could not see? The thought played on your nerves, if only a little. All of you were supposed to be on the same side. You hoped. Gradually, your eyes drifted over to Maul. Clipped to his belt was a silver cylindrical weapon of some sort. Savage’s was twice the length, and could easily be used as a cane for some. Though your eyes roamed each of them, it felt oddly quiet. Sure, you were among strangers, but even the Black Sun spoke to one another. You could not quite figure it out. There must have been an existing power dynamic that you were missing. This Pre Vizsla stood front and center, and yet Maul referred to a Collective. If you were going to be a negotiations advisor, what were the subjects of the negotiations? Criminals, mercenaries, rogues, warriors. If you were to choose one moment in your life where you felt utterly out of place, this would be it. Undoubtedly. Golden irises laded on you. Dropping your gaze instinctively, you internally grumbled at the reflex. It was one of the things you had picked up from your time on Mustafar. When you looked back up, Maul still held his side glance on you. As he looked at you, his eyes were not warm, nor were they cold. Dare you thought, inquisitive. His own thoughts, you could only guess, and probably not well either. You had no idea when would happen next, but you had an inkling that he did. Your locked gazes broke with Maul returning his attention to the viewport ahead. There, the ship approached its destination: Zanbar.

The landing was smooth. You did not want to be known as the one who stumbled or fell in the ship, among other things. Maul and the Mandalorians turned and left the ship first. Savage and yourself kept still at the back corners until the others exited the ship. You fully expected to wait for the zabrak, but he looked to you expectantly. With a single gesture of his hand, you understood. Smiling in thanks, you walked on ahead of him. Once you stepped off the ramp, you quickly surveyed your surroundings. Zanbar was suspended in its nightly darkness. Tents littered the nearby landscape, and the air was laced with the scent of the small fires. The Mandalorians and members of the Black Sun were again tasked with arranging the large crates. “Follow me,” Savage’s gravelly voice tore through your focus. Together, you walked toward Maul. There, he stood alone, eyes shining in the night. He turned to acknowledge you both as you approached. “Is there anything that you require us to do while we’re here?” “Yes. They need a tent. Gather others if you must. Our advisor needs the necessary comfort and privacy to sustain themselves while we’re here.” Savage nodded firmly, “It will be done, brother.” “Thank you,” you said, holding the strap of your bag tighter. “It’s not a lavish luxury, but it will suffice. When your accommodations have been met, meet with me again. I wish to speak with you.” “I’ll remember.” Giving a small smile, you caught a glimpse of his shoulders lowering. With that in-mind, you were ready to throw the tent together yourself. At least Maul wanted to converse with you. That was a good sign.

Savage gained the help from some of the Black Sun. The tent came together easily enough. With their hulking figures, you ended up taking a step back to keep out of their way. “And what is your role in all of this, artist?” One had asked as he secured one corner. “I am the negotiations advisor now to the one called Maul.” His brows raised, brown eyes darting off to the zabrak in question, but said nothing more. You could not wait to have a break from creating other’s art pieces. Especially if it meant infinitely. When the tent was complete, the small group moved on to their next task. This left only you and Savage, again. In all of the new uncertainty, you let yourself breathe. There in-front of you was something you could call your own. At least for the unforeseeable future. Entering the tent, you observed the plain and overall emptiness of the space. A palette cleanser or absolutely dull, you could not decide. On the bright-side, it blocked out a hefty amount of the noise outside. Once you set your bag down by the cot, you heard the flap of the tent’s entrance. You turned around to see Savage duck under the frame. “Is this suitable for you?” “Yes,” you gave the interior one last once-over before exiting the tent. There, you gathered some nearby rocks. As you arranged them by the entrance, you could feel Savage’s eyes on you. When you deemed it complete, you brushed off your hands and stood back up. “Is that a ward of some kind?” “No. I just want to make sure that I don’t forget which tent is mine. I’d hate to barge in where I am not wanted.” In his consideration, he paused. “My brother will be expecting you now.” “Then I won’t keep him waiting.”

On your walk back to Maul, you felt this overall rush, an excitement. In general, excitement is something you had not experienced in a while, among other things that you have been recollecting. This kind, however, felt new and risky in an almost fun way. A sort of adrenaline rush, like you were getting the opportunity to get closer to the fire. Something you should not do, but every fiber of your being said the fire was meant for only you to experience, whereas anyone else would be harmed, you would not be. When you caught sight of him, he turned toward you. “Are your accommodations all right?” Maul asked in a silky low voice. You assumed all others were out of ear-shot, but mirrored his hushed tone. “Yes, thank you.” “I do not like criminals,” he said, changing the subject, “but I know that they will work. Especially where credits are involved.” “And the Mandalorians?” “They are loyal and follow their own code. They will do what needs to be done. We have…a commonplace—for the time being.” It became quiet for a few brief moments as you relayed his words in your mind. When he spoke again, his tone was impossibly quieter. “We…are soulmates,” he said, and you were not sure if he was talking more to you or reconfirming it to himself. “I can sense it. It is strange, this feeling. I thought—was told that I didn’t have one. That someone like me could not have one. It was unnecessary, impossible. And yet…here you are. You pose no threat, and yet I find you a distraction in the faintest of a fraction. Why is that?“ Maul looked at you then with the utmost sincerity. “I was told that there is an inherent bond between soulmates. Like whenever a scar would appear, but I somehow knew that you were all right.” Nodding, he took a audible breath before saying more. “I believe I have failed to inform you earlier; if it was not already clear. You do not work for, nor take orders from Black Sun. You are free of your contract.” The flood of relief that coursed through you from his words made your fead feel light. As if you could finally breathe again. “Truly?” “Yes. The contract, the control they held over you has been permanently terminated. They need not bother you further.” “That is great news. But…will I be taking orders from you now?” It was something you had to ask for clarity on the situation. How much freedom did you have? “No, but I do request for you to be careful,” he said subtly eyeing anyone within sight. “I’ve made it this far.” “Yes, however I would rather you not become a target.” Your chest clenched, “A target? What—why?” However vivid your reaction, Maul remained calm. “If others were to find out about our…relation, they may try to use that knowledge or you as leverage. I’d like to avoid that.” Your thoughts were in a scattered heap, sporadically zipping around your mind. Gathering some words, you spoke slowly. “Would…would I be safer with you, then? To stay close to you, I mean.” “Yes,” he said with a nod of thought. “And if not me, then i will instruct Savage to guard you. We don’t want to be obvious however.” You nodded in agreement, avoiding eyeing the others in the area. “Thank you,” you said, looking down with a light sense of fear and paranoia nipping at you. Curiosity reined in his eyes as he studied you. You clarified. “For wanting to protect me. We have so much to learn about each other.” His golden eyes left you to admire the stars above. “Yes,” he affirmed with certainty, “I believe it was the will of the Force that we finally met. I will not overlook that.” Maul’s attention returned to you. There was this unyielding determination in his eyes, and it held you still. “In the meantime, there is much that I must attend to.” Then, it hit you. Suddenly, and yet a little late. “May I ask you something?” “You may.” “Did you say, the Force?” “I did.” “Is that a belief of yours?” The corner of his eyes crinkled in his amusement. “In simple terms, for the time being, yes. It was a part of my upbringing and my training.” “Training?” “I am a master of all forms—fighting styles, and use the Force at my will.” “The Force…it can be wielded?” “Yes, by though properly trained.” His brow ridge rose, and it was then you noticed your obvious look of fascination. Clearing your throat unnecessarily, you wiped your face clean of expression. It was a good thing too, all considering the approaching footsteps. You were a little dismayed, wanting to ask more. Leader Pre Vizsla walked over to the pair of you. He glanced your way once, and it made your skin crawl. Instinctually, you took a step back. However, you were sure that it merely appeared as if you were making space for him in your conversation with Maul. “The holotable is ready. If you would join Bo-Katan and I, we can discuss our next steps.” “Yes,” said Maul, now looking to you. “Excuse us.” “Of course.” Bowing your head, you retreated back to your tent.

Rather than staring at the inside of the temporary housing, you sat down just by the entrance. Coincidentally, Maul and Pre Vizsla joined Bo-Katan, a redheaded Mandalorian at the tent across your view. It would have been a clear and unobstructed view if not for Savage and Ziton standing by a crate. You did not entirely mind. If your very presence distracted Maul in the slightest, staring at him during a meeting would pose no help from you.

As some time passed, you tired of counting Mandalorians, stacking pebbles, and squinting at the holo-map in-front of Maul. Something in the night sky caught your eye. A twinkle of a star? A flying creature? No, something entered the atmosphere. The sound of the three ships reached your ears about the same time you identified them. They flew low, soaring over your tent and landed just outside the encampment. Rising to your feet, you took a few steps around the structure to get a look at the visitors. Maul and the two Mandalorians made their way over to the newcomers. They fell into step with each other. Pre Vizsla took center lead, holding his helmet to his side while Bo-Katan and Maul flanked him. Others simply watched with cautious curiosity. The night was quiet, allowing you to overhear their brief conversation. “More criminals,” Bo-Katan said with soft irritation and a roll of her eyes. “Spice dealers connected to all the crime families of Coruscant,” said Pre Vizsla as they neared the new group. Maul clasped his hands behind his back. A reoccurring formality or a default position? “The Pykes. They will be the next to join us.” His voice was so soft in contrast to his features. It would take you some time to become accustomed to it. And the more you replayed his words in your mind to hear his voice, the more intriguing it became. Six figures approached them. The Pykes, held a tight formation with their yellow-clad leader. Maskless and with bright glowing violet eyes, they made first contact. “We know you’ve been forming an army.” “Were you expecting us?” Asked of Maul. “Underworld’s a small community. I have no desire to oppose you,” they explained with a shake of their head. “We come to join you.” The others behind him nodded eagerly and Pre Vizsla stepped up to grab their leader’s wrist in a confirming shake. “Very good,” he said, one Pyke exuberantly waving their hands in the air at the pleasant outcome. “Then ready our troops,” Pre Vizsla commanded loudly. “We leave for Nal Hutta immediately.” A rush of movement took over the camp. It was a collective agreement. A no hesitation order that appeared to drive them. You could see now what Maul had said about the Mandalorians and their loyalty. “Nal Hutta,” Savage said, standing beside you. “Have you met a Hutt before?” “No,” you said, your nerves creeping up at the thought. “Have you?” You asked, craning your neck upward to see hi face. “Not yet.” As his gaze left yours, you followed suit. Maul made his way over in a few long strides. “Savage, you will learn much from our visit with the Hutts. Once we have them on our side, the rest of the criminal underworld will scramble to join us.” “They don’t sound like they’ll be much trouble,” Savage noted. You internally sighed at the thought. Criminals, any strangers really, should be advanced with an air of caution. “Are they willing to ally with a simple agreement, or do terms have to be made?” You asked. A ghost of a smile played at the corner of Maul’s mouth. “They are not to be trusted, as with any criminal. I have my terms prepared. They’ll have no choice but to join the Shadow Collective.” “You will not need my services on Nal Hutta, then?” His eyes widened and you felt Savage shift beside you. “The Hutts have bounty hunters at their disposal. You will remain here until we either return or I send for you.” A small ‘oh’ left your lips. Criminals, spice dealers, and now bounty hunters? Whatever Maul had planned, it was elaborate and extensive. “Enjoy your rest, advisor. You will need it for what is to come.” With that said, Savage turned to you and nodded. Likewise, you held out your hand for him to take. It engulfed your own, but was incredibly gentle for the brief hand shake. “May it all go in your favor.” “Thank you…advisor.” The new title felt well-suited when they said it. It gave you a sense of importance. A respect you deserved but had long since been denied. Savage turned away and started off to the ship. You were positive that he would have absolutely no problem with the Hutts. The soft breath of your name whirled your head back toward Maul. “Yes…Maul?” “Seek refuge in your tent. Be wary of who you trust here,” he cautioned, leaning closer. “Mandalore is our goal. Wait here until then. I expect the Mandalorians to have their own…plan.” Giving a small nod, you whispered. “Be careful.” His head tilted to the side with a small scrunch of his nose. “I’ll see you soon.” “If all goes according to my vision, perhaps sooner.” With a final nod from him, Maul followed after Savage. Within the next couple of moments, the ships rose and set course toward the atmosphere and hastily out of view and into space.

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

Finally.

Thank you so much for reading! I know it’s been a long time since the Prologue, but I finally finished Part 1!! YAY!!! And now...for the rest of the series lol

Reblogs are very much appreciated, you don’t have to obviously, it just helps for me to see your commentary (that I absolutely love reading) and whether you liked it enough for me to continue writing more parts.

I hope you’re doing well! :) And thank you again.

#darth maul soulmate au #darth maul x reader #darth maul slow burn romance #darth maul x you #darth maul fanfiction #darth maul from our scars fanfiction #ivorydragoness44 #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction

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paperlovesadness · 1 year

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Do you think Sculptures Of Anything Goes is Milex coded? I was paying attention to the lyrics and I think it would make some sense if it was

Oh, great question. [Future me from the end of this answer is back here to say: I'm very sorry about how long this response turned out 😅 I release my inner overwriter freely here on Tumblr as other parts of my life don't allow it as much. I'm also just so into this whole fandom and the lyric theories. Can't help myself]

The Car is such a difficult album lyric-theory wise. There's so much vague, initially even very random-looking imagery. And then there's Alex claiming the songs aren't intentionally autobiographical and more focused around the melodies and the feelings those evoke.

I personally think he definitely hid some personal stuff in there - maybe less directly. Maybe it's like a huge mix of small feelings and thoughts not organized as cleanly. Maybe some of it's also subconscious.

I definitely feel that The Car is about his inner workings and just... Introspective stuff, you know?...

...but do I also possibly believe that in that same spirit some of those inner monologues and battles may touch on a certain very important and very unconventional relationship in his life? 👀 Absolutely.

Biggest ones for me would probably be Mr. Schwartz and I also get some vibes from Jet Skis in that regard. But I've definitely also overthought about Sculptures being possibly vaguely Miles-ey.

Like these lines specifically:

[⚠️ this is all a bit overexaggerated. These lyrics are vague & I'm aware could be bent into a million interpretations. So here's just one of those, for fun]

Whilst wonderin' if your mother still ever thinks of me

(yes yes. I get it. People love it as an intelligent spin on a 'your mum' joke. But then... How about treating it literally for a second? There aren't many other-people's-mums Alex mentioned as much in his interviews and such as Pauline Kane. All I mean is - sometimes when you're great friends with someone or in a romantic relationship you become close to their family as well. And then when a fall-out happens you loose touch with them too. And it's absolutely a thing to wonder what those people - who used to love you too - think about you now. Or if they do at all)

Is that vague sense of longing kind of tryna cause a scene?

[said longing is a problematic one. If he gave into it it would cause a scene. Which- interesting]

Baby, those mixed messages ain't what they used to be When you said 'em out loud

[this one is the loudest. No pun intended. Mixed messages could be like... The perfect description of milex and the type of relationship they have. On the verge of something else... All fun and games until someone says it out loud and it becomes too serious and scary? Maybe?? Someone going around "killing the joke", if you will? 👀👀👀]

The whole last verse also gives vague milex vibes to me. Like the year 2009 (admittedly would be more convincing if it was 2008) - village coffee mornings (french village?) The word retired (tlsp?) And spies (the Bond-vibes their music has going on. Tlsp1-aesthetic) And then the ending seems sad and desperate.

Yes, I went wild with the assumptions and interpretations. But that's what I'm here for 😌 if not on Tumblr then where do we release this madness?

Thank you for the ask and sorry for taking a while to get back to you (and for how long that response ended up being 😅)

🧡

#ask #this became sort of a #lyric analysis #/#song theories #//#song interpretation #post #I swear I always intend to keep it short and end up doing a whole ass thesis with theories & interpretations 🥲#my posts

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where-dreamers-go · 1 year

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“Dancing And Dragons” Eragon x Reader

(A/N: Oooo a Modern!Reader who knows martial arts. Now we’re talkin’!!! :D And capoeira??? Yes, please. Eragon won’t know what hit him! Hahaha. Okay, let’s go with a new concept—a fresh and different Modern!Reader that’s separate from the mess on my computer. Woo! So just a Modern! Reader. @coffencomputers I got a little carried away writing in dragons. I definitely recommend any readers to read up or watch some videos about capoeira. Warnings: Mention of kicking, but not actually kicking someone. Word Count: 962 words)

Alagaësia, a wide and magical land of fantasy.

So what the blazes were you doing East of there with a dragon hatchling nuzzling your shoe? You had no idea.

What you did know was that you were lucky to be alive. Out of all locations to pop into, at least you were near people and water. More specifically: Mount Arngor.

There were dragons, urgals, dwarves, elves, and a very confused Dragon Rider. The Dragon Rider who stumbled upon you in a clearing and chose not to end your existence. After a lot of fast talking on your part. Thank goodness.

Being in a world of magic when your memories of it were through words on a page was ore than a little mind boggling. It hardly made sense. So you left that bit of information out of any conversation. Sticking to the story of unknown teleportation was working fine. Vague, but believable.

The little amethyst colored hatchling pawed at the toe of your shoe. They were the smallest one you had seen. Cute and curious.

It was a wonder you were allowed to be near any dragon. You were still a stranger. Right? No one knew your favorite color.

“You know,” you told the little dragon, “I think it’s time for some movement.”

The little dragon tilted their head as they met your gaze.

“I can’t sit here forever. It’s peaceful, but I have to move around.” You stood up and walked into the small clearing. “You can join me if you want.”

They made a small snort.

“Alright.” You shrugged. “Enjoy your break from….Language lessons? You’re having those right?”

Tilting their head again, they sat down to watch you.

You took that as a maybe.

Taking a few deep breathes through your stretches helped ease your body from the sitting you had been doing. Nothing fancy.

Once finished, you really started.

Music played through your mind. A slow beat that kept you steady on your feet. Sweeping a leg just over the ground, you held control.

There were no competitions nor fighting.

The rhythm of your internal music picked up. You followed it. Felt it.

Rotating your torso, your foot made an arc through the air as your hand met the ground. Fluid and steady. You did it again. Your movements did not take you far from your starting position.

You smiled.

Getting into a rhythm was easier. To pretend there was live music helped. It added a liveliness to the movements. Fun.

When else would you be turning through move after move and kicks? At home probably.

Being in a fictional world, or what you thought was only so, gave you many reasons for outlets to relax. Sometimes the idea of where you were was a bit much to handle. Both the good and annoying. Time alone with your thoughts was important.

Even dragons needed time to themselves. Hence the half dozen hatchlings watching you go into a hook kick.

You supposed they needed entertainment too. Unless it was them feeding curiosity. Probably the later.

Whether you spoke, walked, or completely pretended to mind your own business, you were on the other end of someone’s curiosity.

“You dance without music?”

“WHOA!” You spun around.

Eragon stood with his hands up defensively. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to scare you.”

“Startled, but fine. Hi.”

“Hello.” He lowered his hands. “May I ask why you’re dancing without music?”

You rose an eyebrow.

“Not that—I mean—I was walking nearby and wanted to know why the hatchlings were gathered here. I haven’t been here long.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line to suppress a smile was seemingly more difficult than half the kicks you performed. To have casual conversations with the Dragon Rider were far more fun without the presence of judging eyes. Usually those who ignored everyone and had pointed ears. Knowing him more than he knew you gave you an unfair advantage. A fun one though. For you at least.

Taking pity on Eragon, you decided against teasing him with word play.

“I wasn’t dancing.”

Eragon’s mouth opened silently.

“But if it looks like dancing,” you chuckled, “then I haven’t forgotten how to do capoeira.”

“What’s that?” He asked and took a few steps closer to you.

“It’s a fighting style.” You smiled.

Oh, did you know there was a question or ten about to roll in. Eragon always did have a question for you. Literally, every day. That’s what happened when your home was nowhere near Alagaësia and he knew. Something you had to live with.

“Are there many styles of fighting where you’re from?” Eragon asked. A curious glint shown in his brown eyes in the afternoon sun.

“Yes.”

The excitement of new knowledge smoothed the stress from his features. From Dragon Rider to farm boy in less than three seconds.

“Do you know other styles of fighting?”

“I know of others. I’ve mainly practiced capoeira. I like how it flows. Between moves, you know?”

“Oh.” His eyebrows knit together, thoughts churning. Eyes looked elsewhere.

“It’s alright to ask.”

Eragon’s gaze met yours. A little unsure, but soft.

You nodded encouragingly.

“Is it effective in a real fight?” Eragon asked.

“Yes. A kick can knock someone to the ground. It might seem….unconventional in appearance or…a dance, but that’s the point.”

He smiled.

“And no, I will not demonstrate on or with you,” you said quickly. “I’d rather not be roasted.”

Smiling, Eragon tried covering up his discomfort at the idea. He was still getting used to your humor.

“But….then again.” You crossed your arms under your chest. “If we do it correctly, neither of us will even hit the other. Could be fun.”

The dragon hatchlings chirped and jumped excitedly.

Eragon stilled.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Inheritance Cycle Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @emburbaguette

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#Eragon x Reader #Eragon x modern!Reader #Eragon x modern! Reader #eragon shadeslayer #the inheritance cycle #where dreamers go #requested

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lovecolibri · 1 year

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Eh, don’t really get the outrage. Carlos avoiding difficult subjects seems so in character to me.

I agree that it seems on brand for him, but what is getting to me is the way it was brought up out of nowhere. And yes, Covid and Liv leaving threw everyone for a loop but just a hint here and there that a) Carlos and Iris were close friends, and b) that there was *something* Carlos wasn't telling anyone could have gone a long way. A mention of some past *something* that his parents didn't approve of in the episodes centered on Carlos, a scene of Carlos taking a very vague one-sided call with Michelle (or even Iris) and hanging up when TK arrives, would have given the audience some build up and giving Carlos a little more depth/backstory without having to majorly tie the whole thing to Michelle. And they could have had Carlos take the call at work or something at the start/end of an emergency so it flowed with the episode, it wouldn't have been *too* hard to drop some hints along the way if this storyline was always the plan.

As for people being upset, I get it because I can be that way about MY blorbos so I'm not gonna shame people for being frustrated or pretend it's brilliant writing, however for me personally, at the moment I'm wiling to see how it's going to play out because the "Judd has a secret son" thing was something I was prepared to HATE but I ended up really enjoying how it was handled. So I'm going to give it a few weeks and see what they're going to do with it.

I will say, one of the most brilliant to me personally lines about relationships that has stuck with me is from the first Outlander book and to paraphrase, Jamie basically says that he knows there are things Clair maybe doesn't want to tell him yet or CAN'T tell him, and he has things he isn't ready to share yet either. Then he says their relationship has room for secrets, but not lies, so when she decides to tell him something to tell him the truth and he would do the same for her. We all have things we may not want to share or maybe even don't think are a big deal because it's been a thing for so long and then you tell someone else and it clicks that maybe it IS a big deal. Carlos is NOT in love with someone else, he hasn't been lying to TK about having a secret husband that he planned to build a life with but something happened, he had a marrage of convenience (which he may have said was "in name only"? I don't remember off the top of my head) to someone he cared about as a dear friend and nothing more. He wasn't lying to Iris either about who he was or what the marriage was about. Clearly he thought he had time to resolve the matter quietly without having to inconvenience or upset anyone because we all know how he can be about trying to manage everyone else's emotions. And so far I really like how TK is handling it though I hope we get to hear him talk about his feelings (you can understand a person's actions and still be hurt, and upset at the situation you find yourself in), and I'm excited to dig into Carlos more! It's time we get to see more past that perfect exterior he likes to project and into his complexities because it's been hinted at that he's not as together and he wants everyone to think and I just KNOW Rafa is going to deliver some Performances.

So right now, I'm willing to go on this journey but I get it if some people aren't because we've all been there! It's okay to feel your feelings, it's okay to hate it and come around later, it's okay to be fine now but hate it later, it's okay to hate or enjoy it entirely. It's your experience, do what you need to in order to have a good time (and sometimes that means bitching to like-minded pals until you feel better).

#my sweet nonnie friends #911 lone star #lone star spoilers #carlos reyes #tarlos

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ladylilithprime · 6 months

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20 Fanfic Questions

I was tagged by @jazzforthecaptain for this right when I'm supposed to be going to bed. -_-U

How many works do you have on AO3?

172 currently posted, more to be imported and uploaded shortly....

What’s your total AO3 words count?

716,745 as of right now....

What fandoms do you write for?

Whew..... uh, lessee, Supernatural, Marvel Comics/MCU, Harry Potter, Animorphs, Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Little Mermaid, Gundam Wing, Smallville/DC Comics, Highlander, Star Trek, The Sentinel, Stargate SG1, Star Wars, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Sailor Moon, Tomorrow People (New/90s Series), Fullmetal Alchemist, Gravitation, Yami no Matsuei, Weiss Kreuz, Ranma ½, Pirates of the Caribbean, Good Omens, Firefly, Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings et al, Daria, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Phineas and Ferb, Danny Phantom, ElfQuest, Rise of the Guardians, How To Train Your Dragon, El Goonish Shive (don't tell Dan!), Transformers, YURI!!! On Ice, Speed Racer..... uh, yeah, I think I'm forgetting some... or not mentioning them for Reasons.......

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

More Worthy Than Believed (MCU, Gen, Tony-centric, vague IronHawk)

Only Different In The Details (MCU, IronHawk plus Avengers ensemble)

Hel Hath Nick Fury (MCU, Nick Fury/Hela aka Darcy Lewis)

The Shadow You Cast Over Me (MCU, Gen, Tony-centric, unrequited Steve/Tony)

Broken Hallelujah (Supernatural, Sastiel)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Short answer is that I try to? I want to respond to comments, but sometimes I'm out of spoons and it takes me a while to work up the spoons to answer, and sometimes the comment is a demand for an update on a fic I just posted a new chapter for and I lose the motivation to write anything at all for a couple days because gods, I'm thrilled y'all enjoy my stuff but damned if I've usually got the time and energy to write fanfic around Real Life!

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably a toss up between The Shadow You Cast Over Me and A Wish Your Heart Makes. (If you didn't guess one of those, uh, well... ~offers tissues~)

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh, hell, good luck trying to pin that one down! Seriously, I can't pick, go look for yourself.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not...exactly? I mean, I once got some dumbass complaining in the comments of my clearly tagged WinterIron soulmate AU that he wanted to read WinterWindow and "not this gay shit", which, dude, we're on AO3, not FanFiction.Net, the fic was very clearly tagged and you still clicked on it, so you reading "that gay shit" is all on you, buddy. Also, same fic, someone decided that because I talk about Natasha and Yasha being familiar with borscht that I was a Russian Imperialist? I dunno, people are weird.

Do you write smut. If so what kind?

.....Yes, hello, any kind of smut I write that's actually explicit rather than kept vague or Fade To Black has a separate psued. Click at your own risk, not that I have much posted there yet.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Hmmmm.... Do I have to stick with fics that I've posted and can provide links to? I've got a LOT of crossovers that either aren't posted yet or haven't been moved over to AO3 and tracking down the links on the wider web and defunct archives is difficult.... so, I'll just cop to Lethally Blonde, the MCU/stealth-Tropic Thunder crossover, for right now.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Sort of? Someone stole a segment of "More Worthy Than Believed" wholesale and tried to pass it off as theirs a few years back, but it got discovered pretty quickly by folks who'd read the original.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't know? I think someone offered to translate one of my older fics once, but I don't know if anything came of it.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I'm listed as a collaborator for The Cadbury'verse, but aside from Bang collabs and the vague plans @rodiniaorzetalthepenquin and I have plotted about at three AM that result in one or the other of us writing fics in the same narrative universe, I don't have any posted cowritten fics.

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

~thousand-yard-stare at the above list of fandoms~ .....could you be more specific?

What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Dude, I just updated Only Different In The Details with a new chapter and the last update previously was in 2013! If the fic isn't marked as complete, it'll get finished eventually. (Or I'll die, but it's more likely the fic gets finished before then.)

What are your writing strengths?

World-building. I seriously LOVE world-building, and I really enjoy writing full AUs that really let me flex that!

What are your writing weaknesses?

.....forward planning. I can't seem to do it with any kind of reliability or regularity, and trying to write an outline is a scholastic exercise in futility, not to mention all the times I've gone looking for notes or scene snippets I could have sworn I wrote down or typed into chat somewhere and apparently sharing the vivid fever dream images in my head was yet another dream. On the other hand, I remember three different versions of those scenes in vivid technicolor, so I just have to pick one instead of starting three new WIPs.....

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

This is honestly why I'm slowly teaching myself seven different languages, and you can bet I prefer having a beta for those segments who is a native speaker. (Harder for Latin, Quenya, Vulcan, and Enochian, admittedly....)

First fandom you wrote for?

Trick question. The first fandom I ever wrote for and posted online was Animorphs, but I was writing fanfic as far back as second grade for Disney movies and the Sweet Valley Universe nominally by Francis Pascal. (Yes, I still have those notebooks. No, they will not be transcribed and archived online.)

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Always the fic I haven't written yet. Always. What I think is my favorite now will not likely still be my favorite next year, maybe not even next month! Hell, I can't even pick a favorite out of the ones I have posted to AO3 right this second! But then, isn't that part of the fun part of writing?

Tagging.... @rodiniaorzetalthepenquin , @karategirl80 , @slytherkins , @youarentreadingthis , @sageclover61 , @hyrulehearts1123 , and @mrswhozeewhatsis . Have fun!

#tag games #20 fanfic questions #i sleep now

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dreamingdarklyblog · 8 months

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doompsion asked:

affirmations, mantras, and homework

How do you feel about affirmations (e.g., 'good girl') with conditioned positive reinforcement? Would you/ have you played with this before? Have you used it on others to good effect? Do you feel repeating mantras (in/out of trance) helps conditioning take hold? Is it more effective or less effective for you than you've seen in others? Are you aware of any 'homework' or reinforcement exercises your hypnotist, is having you do? Can you talk about them?

Ooof, so many questions ;). Which I appreciate, but maybe pace yourself or split them up so I can split up my answers ;) Hrm... Affirmations. It's certainly something I've played with. And for sure yes I've used it 'on' others as you put it. And yeah I'm pretty sure it's something he's said at least a few times. I'm not aware of any "special" significance that it might have. I don't think it does?

How do I feel about it? Affirmations in general or those words? Hrm... I'm not sure. I've always found there's a bit of a Misogynistic tone to those words, "Good Girl", like a dog, or child. Which makes it a very conflicting thing. Knee jerk, I don't like feeling demeaned or infantilized, but it's such a standard part of the hypno kink space that I can't be Too offended, as I know most people don't mean it that way. I've certainly played around with more specific reactions to those words, or similar affirmations as you call them, at other times. So... *shrug* I don't know?

Mantras... Yes, they absolutely help. I won't get into it, but I've had issues with... Let's call them unwanted mantras that I couldn't get rid of. Intrusive thoughts that nag, and it's difficult. But yeah they absolutely help things "stick", sometimes more than I'd want.

As for how it compares to others? That's difficult to say isn't it? I'm not in there head. But some people seem to take to them really well, others not so much.

Homework. - Wow does that ever sound like a loaded question where I'm lacking some information >_<. Am I aware of any... lol. I guess, no? I mean, he's asked me to try to post more. Which I'm working on, hence soliciting questions. And there's been some periods that I vaguely remember where I'm pretty sure he was trying to condition me to rub more.

Not sure why I already do pretty much all the time. But I guess he likes that? Or doesn't realize?

Side note, have I mentioned his name? O_O. Was pretty sure I kept referring to him as my writing partner. Grrr, apparently I can't edit the question to remove it... Clue me in, did I just forget and actually everyone knows his name so I shouldn't be concerned?

*edit/repost* Argh I screwed up and posted a bunch of things under the wrong blog. Reposting and fixing things. Also let me edit the question since I had to repost it as text... Sigh. Not used to this 2 blogs thing.

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myloversgone · 2 years

Text

Sweet Love - An AU!Dean x Reader fanfiction - Chapter 2

Parings: AU!Dean x Reader; AU!Dean x Y/N; Dean x female!Reader; Dean x Angelica (OFC); Sam x Jess

Series warnings: +18, smut: penetrative sex, oral sex; angst; language; mentions of cheating, body shaming (be careful if that can be a trigger to you!).

Series summary: After twenty years apart, Dean and Y/N meet again. They both have successful careers, but he wishes to change some things in his life.

Chapter summary: An awkward dinner party makes things between Dean and Y/N get a little more complicated.

Word count: 4,700~

A/N: This is the second part of a multi-chapter series I’m currently working on. It will probably have around 5 chapters (maybe more). It’s an Alternative Universe story, so there’s no hunting involved. I tried to keep the characters as canon as possible, though.

Feedback is always highly appreciated! Happy reading :)

A/N 2: Sorry…

READ CHAPTER 1 HERE

Two weeks later

Morning, sunshine! Can you save me a slice of that delicious pumpkin pie? I’m in a hurry, not gonna be able to go get it before lunch.

Y/N smiled while she read Dean’s text. Since he came to the bakery that first time, he’d been coming back every day to get breakfast. Usually, they didn’t have much time to talk; she was busy serving her customers, and he had to go back to the garage to start his day. But they’ve been texting pretty much every day. She was already used to waking up with a good morning message from him and going to bed after answering his “sleep well :)” message.

They had so much in common. The only person Dean had to unwind was his brother, who was currently super busy, traveling a lot to deal with the expansion of their business. As for her, many of her “friends” left when she decided to focus on her dream to open the bakery. She had two friends who were amazing and were always there for her, but both women were married and had children, meaning that they had to take care of their families and couldn’t be present all the time. So, Y/N understood why she and Dean reconnected so fast after a long time apart. They both needed people they could trust.

Dean ended up being that person for her again, just like he was back in high school. She was doing her best to hide how she really felt about him, which was very difficult sometimes, especially when he got all flirty with her. But Y/N never thought about not being friends with him. She realized she needed Dean in her life, even if she couldn’t have him the way she wanted.

Three days after the brother’s first visit, Y/N met Jessica, Sam’s wife. It was almost 4 p.m. when she arrived. Y/N was placing some freshly baked muffins on the counter when a beautiful, curly-haired blonde entered the bakery.

“Hi! Welcome to Y/L/N Pastries. How can I help you?”, Y/N greeted, ready to take the woman’s order.

“Hi! Are you Y/N?”, asked Jessica with a smile.

“Yes, that’s me. Sorry, do we know each other?”, Y/N questioned, finding the woman vaguely familiar.

“No, we don’t. I’m Jessica, Sam Winchester’s wife”, Jess explained, reaching out to shake Y/N’s hand. Then, she remembered Dean had shown her a photo of him with Jessica and Sam at their wedding.

“Oh! Nice to meet you, Jessica! Sam told me a lot about you”. Y/N immediately took a liking to the woman, she had a warm, genuine smile.

“Nice to meet you! He told me a lot about you too. His exact words were: ‘Y/N used to tutor me and she makes the best cookies in the world. You have to try it’. So, here I am”, said Jessica, making the other woman blush a little with the compliment.

That afternoon, Jessica stayed until closing hours and took home a dozen cookies. Jessica told all about how she met Sam in Stanford, and Y/N shared some stories from when they were kids.

They had a lot of similarities, especially the fact that they both had left home to pursue a career at an early age. The conversation flowed easily between them, and it felt like they knew each other for a long time.

The next Monday, Sam stopped by and invited Y/N to dinner at his and Jessica’s home. That would be in two days now, and Y/N was a little nervous. She knew Dean would be there too, so she would take the opportunity to talk to him when he came to grab his pie.

Good morning, De! Already did :), Y/N answered his text. Packing him a slice of pie was the first thing she did when she arrived at the bakery.

Did I tell you you’re the best?, it was his almost immediate answer.

Clicking on his contact information, she caught herself staring at this picture, like she’d done a thousand times before. He was smiling in the photo, his hair and beard both a little longer than usual. He looked absolutely handsome, like always. She knew she had to get over her crush on him, but he was so perfect she was having a hard time.

You did, but I don’t mind you saying it again ;)

Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll stop by later to say hi to you. Oh, and to get the pie, of course. ;)

Ok, come by whenever you can. Wanna talk to you about dinner on Saturday.

Sure! I’m glad you’re going. See ya later!

-----------------------------------

Later that day, the last customers were leaving the bakery and Y/N had just finished the dough for a new cookie recipe she was testing, when the bell above the door rang, making her raise her head to see Dean entering. The woman couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading through her body every time she laid eyes on him. He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with a red and black plaid flannel with rolled up sleeves over it. That simple outfit looked amazing on him, enhancing the muscles of his forearms and hugging his strong thighs perfectly.

Walking from behind the counter, she went to meet him halfway.

“Evening, sweetheart”, he gave her a tight hug and kissed her temple. The feeling of his warm lips on her skin was good; she wished it could last longer.

“Hey, De. I was just finishing a new recipe. Come with me while I clean everything up”. Y/N invited, walking back to the array of ingredients she was using to prepare the cookie dough.

Dean couldn’t help but watch her, the ties of the apron around her waist moving to the rhythm of her hips. God, he imagined his hands holding her there, gripping her hips while he pounded-

“I came up with an idea for a new cookie flavor and I was just about to try the dough when you arrived. How about you be the first one to taste it?”, she offered, interrupting his dirty thoughts.

“Hell, yes. It smells amazing”. Dean came closer to the counter, watching her grab a spoon and fill it with the mixture. She took the spoon to his mouth, feeding him with the dough. His eyes never left her face, and Y/N couldn’t stop looking at his lips, so pink and full, as he wrapped them around the spoon, the tip of his tongue appearing between his teeth as he opened his mouth. Jesus, he’s hot, she thought.

A tiny piece of chocolate chip got stuck on the corner of his lips, and Y/N was entranced watching him lick it off, then using his thumb to wipe any possible remains.

“It’s delicious”, Dean said, his eyes still glued to her face. She wasn’t sure he was still talking about the dough.

Y/N blushed furiously, like a teenager in love.

“Glad you liked it, handsome”, she said, at the same second regretting using the pet name, remembering he wasn’t hers. She shouldn’t say out loud the endearment she used for him in her mind. He’s engaged, stop throwing yourself at him, the voice in her conscience warned.

Clearing her throat, she recomposed herself. “Please, take a seat, Dean. I’ll go get us some coffee”.

He nodded and sat at the table nearest to the counter, watching her work. He loved the way she smoothly moved around the bakery. Her hair shone under the white lights, just like the first time he saw her. It was wrapped in a ponytail again, showing the curve of her beautiful neck.

“Cream or sugar? Or both?”, Y/N asked, and Dean had to stop staring at the way her back moved under her thin blouse to focus on her question.

“Just cream”, he answered, smiling.

The woman placed the steaming cup of coffee right in front of him, and his mouth watered with the smell of it.

“Thank you, sweetheart”. Dean held the cup, carefully guiding it to his lips.

“You’re welcome. Hope you like it”. She watched him drink the first sip of coffee before resuming the conversation. “So, about Saturday, who’s gonna be there?”

“Oh, just us, I mean Sam, Jess, me and- and, uh, Angelica. And mom will come too. She’ll be spending the weekend in town”.

Y/N felt her stomach drop when Dean mentioned Angelica. Of course she would be there, she’s his fucking fiancee, she thought. She would have to prepare herself; it wouldn’t be easy to see him being all affectionate with the woman.

“Aww, I’m gonna see your mom! That’s nice”, Y/N said, to avoid addressing the elephant in the room.

“Yeah, I called to invite her and I told you would come too. She’s thrilled to see you again”, he swallowed another sip before asking. "But why do you ask who's going? Is something wrong?”, Dean questioned, furrowing his brow.

Y/N sighed, knowing she should at least tell him half the truth. "I'm a little nervous, I have to admit. I mean, Jessica came by a few days ago, we talked for a bit and she’s lovely. Still, it's been a while since I've been with your family. I don't wanna feel like an intruder", she confessed. Also, I don’t wanna see you with your fiancée, ‘cause I want you all to myself, was the part she refrained from saying.

"Hey, come on, don't worry. You're like family to us! And Sam ‘s looking forward to it too. We both love you, Y/N”, Dean reassured, making her blush again.

“I love you guys too”, she answered with a shy smile. See? They both love you. As brothers. Not him alone. Stop thinking he likes you that same way you like him. He 's just a flirt. Her head was spinning with so many thoughts and feelings. She would definitely go to the dinner, there was no reasonable excuse for her to turn down Sam’s invitation.

Clearing her throat to end the awkward silence that fell between them, Y/N brought up another subject, trying to keep in mind the fact that Dean was engaged.

“So, what about you and Angelica? Have you guys had the chance to talk?”, she asked. She was, in fact, concerned about him. She liked Dean too much to want to see him sad and suffering. She wanted him to be happy, even if it meant him being with somebody else.

“Uh, no, not really. She’s been working late a lot, so we’re not seeing each other much. I was already asleep when she got home last night, and I left today before she was awake. I don’t know, Y/N… It seems like I’m the only one trying to make our relationship work again”, Dean shook his head, frustrated.

“Have you- have you tried to text her, say you guys need to talk?”, Y/N suggested, doing her best to remain neutral. She wanted to scream “Dump her and be with me!”.

“I actually did just that during lunch today. Her answer was ‘If I don’t have to work late, we can have dinner together’. See? She doesn’t seem worried. Her job always comes first”, Dean drank the last sip of his coffee. “I’m gonna get out of your hair now, Y/N. You probably have a ton of better things to do than listen to me complaining about my failed engagement”.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re my friend, I’ll always be here for you”, she reached for his hand over the table, and he ended up being the one to hold hers.

Dean stared at her with a lopsided smile. “You’re awesome, you know that?”.

She blushed again. Jesus, everything he says makes me blush, I have to get a grip on myself, Y/N thought.

“Meh, I think I’m pretty ok”. She said, averting his green eyes.

“You’re far from being just ok, sweetheart”. He gently brushed her knuckles with his calloused fingers, the gentle touch sending a sparkle through her arm. She couldn’t explain the way Dean affected her; it was something that came from when they first met, as teens, and never changed, apparently.

But she needed to take control of her emotions around him. If she had to be the one to step back when he flirted, she would do it.

So Y/N pulled her hand back, away from his touch, and got up. “Oh, I almost forgot your pie! It’s already packed. Let me go get it for you”. She turned around, grabbing the paper bag from the top of the oven and taking it to Dean.

Just by looking at his expression when she turned back to him, Y/N knew he got it. He understood why she had to step away. They knew each other enough for it to be clear without having to be said. It made her feel relieved. She didn’t want him to think she was trying to push him away from her life, now that they just found each other again.

“Here we go”, she placed the paper bag on the table.

“Thanks, Y/N/N. So, see you on Saturday?”. He asked, getting up.

“Yep. I’ll be there”, she raised her arms, wrapping them around his neck. Dean hugged her, enjoying the soft, warm feeling of her body against his.

“See ya, sweetheart”.

“See ya, De”.

—---------------------------------------------------

Saturday - Dinner at Sam’s

When the night of the dinner at Sam’s came, Y/N had a hard time deciding what to wear. She opted for a black dress that hugged her curves just right and ended below her knees. It had thin straps and it showed the upper half of her back. To match it, she wore black strappy sandals that were not so high to the point of making it uncomfortable to walk. Her hair was loose; she avoided tying it when she wasn’t working.

Giving herself a last look in the mirror, she decided it was good enough for a dinner among friends: not too revealing and not too flashy.

Upon her arrival at Sam’s house, she noticed Dean’s black Impala parked in the front. Seeing the car made her smile. She remembered it used to be his dad’s car, but Dean always loved it, and John had promised it would be his someday. It seemed he kept his promise.

Y/N parked her car right behind the Impala and grabbed her purse and the pie she baked for the occasion. Taking a deep breath, she left the car and walked the short distance to the door. Ringing the bell, she had to take another deep breath to calm herself. She could hear voices inside.

“Y/N!”, Jessica exclaimed, opening the door and giving her a hug.

“Hi, Jessica”, Y/N hugged the woman back, immensely thankful for the warm welcome. She could already feel her nerves starting to dissipate.

When they parted, Y/N extended the pie to Jessica. “As promised, I brought dessert”.

“Aw, thanks! Please, come on in”. Jess stepped to the side, giving Y/N space to enter the house. From the living room, at Y/N’s right, came Sam and Dean. Behind the oldest Winchester, she could see a woman she guessed was Angelica. She had blonde, straight hair, and her arms were crossed below her chest, in a not very welcoming way. She wore a sleeveless white dress with a turtleneck.

Sam came first, and, like Jessica, he opened her arms to affectionately hug Y/N. “Hey, Y/N/N. Welcome! I’m glad you’re here”, he placed his hands on her shoulders, his smile showing his dimples.

“Thanks for inviting me, Sam”, Y/N smiled back at him.

Then, Dean approached. He looked handsome in dark jeans and a green shirt that matched the color of his eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart. Nice to see you”, he gave her a tight hug, to which she corresponded. They were friends after all. Friends hug.

But, as Y/N was wrapped around Dean, she felt Angelica’s gaze on her. The woman was watching her fiance like a hawk.

They didn’t even have properly disentangled from each other and Angelica was already extending her hand at Y/N, clearly signaling she wasn’t much of a hugger.

“I’m Angelica Styne. Soon to be Winchester”, she stated with a smile that didn’t reach her beautiful blue eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Angelica. I’m Y/N Y/L/N”, the woman shook her hand loosely, and the animosity between the two of them was noticeable.

After her weird arrival, Jessica led Y/N to the kitchen, where Mary Winchester was arranging some appetizers on a tray.

The older woman got distracted from her task when Jessica and Y/N entered the kitchen, and she opened a big smile when she saw her son’s high school tutor again, after such a long time.

“Y/N! Oh, my God, you look so beautiful!”. Mary quickly cleaned her hands on a towel and gave Y/N a welcome hug as warm as her sons’.

“It’s so great to see you, Mrs. Winchester. You haven’t aged a day!”, Y/N sincerely commented. She always thought Mary was a beautiful woman. She remembered being a teenager and thinking it made sense the boys were so handsome, given their parents looks.

“Oh, you’re being generous, dear. And please, call me Mary”, the woman asked.

From then on, the night was very pleasant. Y/N had lots of fun remembering old stories about school and the time she’d spent at the Winchesters house. Jessica laughed and attentively listened to the stories, and rolled her eyes at Sam and Dean telling their versions, bickering each other. She even shared some of her own memories of college, telling Y/N how she and Sam met.

The only person who didn’t seem happy was Angelica. She only engaged in the conversation after Jessica told Y/N about the night she introduced Dean to Angelica, during the firm’s New Year’s party. Then, Dean’s fiancée started to ask questions and things went south really fast.

“So, Dean told me you’re a baker, Y/N”, Angelica commented with a smirk, in a tone that suggested she found it somehow funny.

Y/N refrained from correcting the woman. She was a pastry chef, not a baker. But it wasn’t the mistake that bothered her; it was Angelica’s tone. “Yep. I own Y/L/N Pastries just around the corner from the boys’ garage”, Y/N answered, ignoring the hostility in the other woman’s voice and smiling gently.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know where it is, I don’t eat anything that has flour in it”, Dean’s fiancee stated, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture that signaled she wasn’t interested in knowing where the place was.

Y/N blushed a little and didn’t answer back, looking at Dean, who was staring at Angelica, wide eyed.

“But what happened that made you decide to be a baker? Dean says you’re smart, so you could be a doctor, a nurse, a lawyer like me, Jessica and Sam”, the woman kept going, apparently shocked that someone would choose to bake for a living. “But I guess with those tattoos it would be hard to get a real job at a hospital or a firm, or any respectful place”.

“Angelica”, Dean said her name as a warning, while everyone else just watched the scene unfolding in front of them.

“What? I’m just saying”, Angelica shrugged as if it was normal to say those things to someone.

“I always liked cooking, it makes me happy. So, after school I got a scholarship and went to college in France, where I studied Patisserie. I got a job, stayed there for a while, and when I came back I decided to open my own bakery. Being my own boss, I can show my personality through my tattoos and the way I dress, that’s one of the perks. But I guess it might be difficult to understand why someone would choose it when you don’t have one. A personality, I mean.”

Angelica’s face went livid. It seemed like she was about to jump down Y/N’s throat, when Mary interrupted whatever her soon to be daughter-in-law was about to say.

“I think we should get dessert, what do you guys think? I’m dying to try your famous pie, Y/N”.

“Sure”, Y/N agreed, smiling at Mary. “Let me help you in the kitchen”.

“Thanks, dear”, the older woman got up and went to the kitchen, with Y/N right behind her.

When they both were away from the living room, Mary sighed, shaking her head in disapproval. “Gosh, Y/N/N, I’m so sorry about Angelica. She’s not usually the most lovable person, but she shouldn’t have treated you that way”, Mary said, while getting some plates for the pie.

“It’s OK, Mrs. Winch- Mary”, Y/N corrected herself.

“No, it’s not, and I’m gonna talk to her about it later”, Mary took her hand, stopping Y/N from cutting the last slices of pie and placing them on the plates.

Y/N looked at the woman, feeling incredibly grateful for her kindness, but worrying she might cause a rupture in the family. “Thanks, Mary, but you don’t have to say anything. It 's ok, really”.

“You don’t have to thank me. Look, I trust you, so I’m just gonna say it: me and Angelica, we never saw eye to eye. I don’t think she’s right for Dean. Like Jess told you, they met when she started at the firm. Since then, she got promoted ‘cause she’s a very good lawyer, I give her that. But she’s willing to step onto other people to climb the stairs to the success she wants. Dean would never do that. My Dean would never, ever step into someone to get what he wants”, Mary sighed again, and Y/N could see a wrinkle of concern forming between her brows.

“I’m sorry to hear you two don’t get along, Mary. I imagine it must be hard”. Y/N sympathized, relieved to know they both shared the same opinion about Angelica.

“Well, it is what it is. I just hope my son can open his eyes soon and see what ‘s right in front of him”, Mary said, smiling and winking at Y/N.

—----------------------------------------------------------

Dean and Angelica entered their apartment, and he placed the keys on the sideboard by the kitchen door, watching her take her coat off.

“What ‘s wrong with you, Angelica?”. He’s been holding his anger from the moment his fiancée said those horrible things to Y/N. He didn’t want to make a scene and ruin his brother’s dinner, so he waited until they got home to talk to her.

“What do you mean?”, the woman asked back, walking to the kitchen without turning to look at him, acting like she didn’t know what Dean was referring to.

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about”. He followed Angelica to the kitchen. He wasn’t willing to let her walk away without a conversation this time. She’s been running for too long.

“I was just curious about why a woman would choose to be a baker, that’s all. It seems like a very uninteresting profession. But I guess it matches your little friend. She’s very bland”. She provoked, pouring water into a glass and still not looking at Dean.

“Don’t you fucking say those things about her! She’s my friend, Angelica, since me and Sam were kids! What has she done to you?”, Dean was furious, but he was keeping his voice low. He wanted to have a conversation instead of a fight, but Angelica was making it very hard for him.

“You haven’t seen that woman for TWENTY YEARS, Dean! You don’t know her anymore, and still, you and Sam invite her over for dinner with our family and you all act like she’s your best fucking friend!”. Angelica was screaming now. Her face was red and her hair was slipping from the elegant bun on the back of her head. “Even Jessica was treating her like they were friends! I’ve known Jessica for YEARS and she never treated me like she treated that woman!”.

Dean was shocked. He’d never seen his fiancée lose her temper like this. “Are you jealous?”, he asked, incredulity written all over his face. “Are you jealous of Y/N with us? With me?”. He pointed at his own chest.

Crossing her arms, Angelica chuckled in mockery, but Dean could see he’d gotten it right. “Oh, honey, I’m not jealous of you. I have a ring on my finger and you have one on yours showing who you belong to. That woman‘s not a threat”.

“That woman has a name, Angelica! And what do you mean ‘who I belong to’? We haven’t even talked-”

Before Dean could finish his sentence, Angelica’s phone rang loud.

“You’re not gonna answer it, are you?”, he said, more as an affirmation than a question.

To increase his frustration, she reached for her purse and picked up the phone, staring at him with a smirk, challenging Dean to react.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Mr. Ketch…”, Angelica said to her boss, walking past her fiance towards their bedroom. She slammed the door, leaving behind a stunned Dean.

—---------------------------------------------------

Sunday, 8 a.m.

Y/N’s phone rang, startling her. The text said:

Hey, sweetheart. Just wanted to say I'm sorry about Angelica's behavior last night. What she said to you wasn't right.

Hey, Dean. It’s ok, you’re not the one who has to apologize. She was rude, yeah, but she’s also entitled to have an opinion.

That doesn't make it any better. She shouldn’t judge you for your tattoos or your job or whatever. She shouldn't have said anything.

Thank you for saying that.

For what it's worth, I think you looked very beautiful last night :)

Dean… what are we doing? You're engaged. I know your relationship is not at it’s best right now but… Gosh, I like you so much. I want you to be happy.

I really, really like you too, Y/N/N. To be honest, I can't stop thinking about you.

I don’t wanna be the reason for you to end your engagement.

Things were already bad before I found you again.

Fuck, De. Maybe we should take some time apart. You need to work on your relationship with Angelica, and I don’t wanna get in the middle of you guys.

I hate this. I’m sorry. I’ll go talk to you in person later.

Don’t be sorry. It’s not wrong for you to try and fix things with your fiancée. And I think it’s best if you don’t come. I hope everything works out for you.

Thank you. And I’m sorry again.

END OF CHAPTER 2

If you came this far, thank you for sticking up with me! Wanna be tagged on this series or on all of my Dean fics? Or maybe you’re tagged and don’t wanna be anymore? That’s ok! Just let me know either way :)

----------------------------------------------

READ CHAPTER 3 HERE

Sweet Love taglist: @leigh70; @deandreamernp; @deanwanddamons; @nancymcl; @ladysparkles78; @jtink27.

@avanatural @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @charred-angelwings @eevvvaa @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

#dean x reader #au!dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester fic

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 64: Shower

There were a lot of benefits to living in a muggle flat in London.

Draco never had to worry about being recognized, it was delightfully noisy (always an added bonus when you woke up from a nightmare, it was very grounding), and one of his neighbors was always leaving him baked goods just outside his door.

But there were definite downsides as well. Mostly that when things broke (which pretty much seemed to be always) he couldn't use magic to fix it and had to wait for the muggle repair man.

"You're sure you can't get here any sooner than Friday to fix the shower?" he asked the maintenance man over the muggle mobile he'd purchased shortly before moving in.

"I'll get there as soon as I can but it's Friday at the earliest," the man replied, "right now I have a busted toilet, a broken garbage disposal, a kitchen light repair, a cabinet door replacement, a window that won't open, a door knob that the lock sticks on, and an ac unit that is pumping in hot air."

Draco resisted the urge to tell him to hire some help and sighed, "Right. Thank you."

The man grunted in response and hung up.

After a moment of contemplating his options, he gathered up his bath supplies and marched down the hall. When he'd moved in a girl named Amelia had told him if he ever needed anything just to come knock on her door. She'd said that she and her boyfriend would be happy to help, and she had even mentioned a shower breaking specifically.

Steeling himself he knocked, "Amelia?" he called. "It's Thomas from 116," he added, he'd almost gotten used to calling himself that. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but my shower is broken and-"

"Just a minute!" a distinctly male voice called back.

And he waited, feeling more embarrassed since couldn't recall having ever met Amelia's boyfriend. He hoped that he wouldn't think that Draco was a creep.

"Sorry," the man called, and Draco heard the locks being slid from their places, "Amelia and I broke up but I'd be glad to help wi-"

The door opened and Draco felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. "Potter?" he spluttered

(Read more below the cut)

"Draco Malfoy, what the actual fuck?"

"What are you doing here?" Draco hissed.

Potter drew back like Draco had slapped him, "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

Before Draco could respond, Delores from the room between their rooms emerged and Potter grabbed him by the front of his tshirt and dragged him inside of his flat.

Draco barely had a moment to notice that his flat was surprisingly cozy before Potter was standing in front of him once more, arms crossed over his chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here!" Draco exclaimed. "I've lived here for six months!"

"Well I have lived here for almost a year!" Potter replied. "How did you find this place?"

"Do you know how hard it is to find a flat to rent in London?" Draco asked.

Potter paused, "Actually, yes," he replied. "And this place is enough of a shit-hole that there is a rotating tenant-base."

"Where's Amelia?"

Potter's brow furrowed, "How do you know Amelia?"

"I don't," he said with a shrug, "I met her when I was moving in and she told me if my shower ever broke I should just come knock on her door."

Potter sighed, "Damn."

"What?" Draco asked, feeling like he'd missed something.

"Oh nothing," Potter said, waving him off, "I'd just really been hoping that the guy I caught her cheating on me with was the only one."

Draco spluttered, "I was not romantically involved with your girlfriend."

"No," Potter replied, "No, I know. Just we worked opposite shifts so she was home in the day and I was home at night, and," he shrugged, "Well, you know how it goes."

Draco pinched his arm, he must be dreaming.

Potter turned and wandered toward his kitchen and Draco couldn't help but wonder if he was meant to follow him. "Tea?" Potter called over his shoulder.

And really, Draco had just meant to beg to use the shower but that little part of him that desperately loved gossip decided tea was a better plan. "Please."

The other man sent a smile at him over his shoulder, dimple popping up and Merlin, when had Potter gotten this attractive?

"So," he said as he put the kettle on, "What do you do?"

"I'm going to a muggle university, actually," Draco replied as he found a seat on a stool at the island, "studying to be a solicitor."

"Huh," Potter said, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose, "That suits you."

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean," he said, brow furrowed.

"Oh, nothing," Potter assured, "Just you're clever, good at arguing, and good at finding loop holes, I imagine."

At the earnest look on Potter's face, he decided not to take offense. "What is it that you do?"

Potter smiled at him, "I work at an animal shelter."

Draco blinked, he'd never expected that answer.

"I know," Potter laughed, "It's not what anyone expected but it makes me happy and it feels like good work."

The kettle whistled and Potter turned around to fetch down a couple of mugs and make them tea. "How long have you been living out of the wizarding world?"

"A little over a year," he replied. "It was just too difficult," Draco said, "I was mobbed everywhere I went, sent death threats," he added, "Not that I don't deserve them-"

"You don't," Potter said sharply, spinning around to face him. "Godric, Draco, you were just a kid. We all were."

He swallowed and looked down at the island, "Be that as it may," he said carefully, "I think it's easier for people." He made a vague gesture, "Not to have to see me."

"The pressure in the wizarding community is unreal," Potter said, setting a cup of tea along with the sugar bowl in front of Draco before he made his way to his refrigerator, "You still don't take cream, do you?"

"No," he replied with a little smile, pleased that he wasn't the only one to still remember oddities about the other.

"Why don't we go into the living room?" he suggested. "My furniture in there is much more comfortable."

Draco followed along behind him and settled onto what appeared to be the least squishy piece of furniture, a beige chair. Potter seemed to have no such qualms and sunk into a cozy rocking chair. Draco cleared his throat, "You've been gone for how long now?" he asked.

"Almost two and a half years," Potter replied before taking a sip of tea.

"Do you miss it?" Draco asked.

Shrugging one shoulder he answered, "Sometimes. I still go to the Weasley's most Sundays and I go for birthday parties and holidays. It's enough." He took another sip of tea, his eyes glued to Draco in that piercing way of his and it felt like it had been ages since someone had actually seen him. "What about you? Do you miss it?"

"At the beginning," he confessed, "But less now."

Potter hummed, seemingly waiting for Draco to continue

"Did you go to-"

Potter waved him off, "My life is exceptionally boring, I assure you. Tell me about you," he said. "Tell me about school, about what you want to do with your degree, tell me about acclimating to Muggle life," he chuckled, "tell me everything."

And so Draco did. He talked about his classes, talked about how difficult certain parts of living like a muggle were, talked about doing work with children, talked about doing a double major in law and in psychology. Draco talked, and talked, and talked while Harry listened; and he realized it had been a really long time since someone had done this with him.

He was in the middle of a story about how he hadn't understood how pens worked when Harry's mobile rang. With a wince he pulled it out of his pocket, "Sorry," he said, silencing it only for it to start ringing again a minute later. He huffed, "Sorry," he repeated. "It's Hermione and Ron. They'll just keep calling if I don't answer, give me just a minute."

"Of course," he said.

Harry gave him a little smile, "I'll get some more tea," he added before picking up.

Over the tiny little speaker Draco could hear cheering and hollering before a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday was sung and Draco felt the blood drain from his face. He pulled out his own mobile and clicked the wake button. July 31

He felt like such an arse, here he was blabbering away at the other man when Potter probably had a million things he'd rather be doing.

"Thank you," Potter said over the phone from the kitchen. "I'm a bit busy just now," he broke off to listen to some chatter. "Yes. I'll be by on Sunday to celebrate." Another pause, "Yes. Love you all, too. Kisses to Rosie and Teddy."

When he returned he said, "Sorry, you were saying about the pens?"

"I feel like an absolute clot," Draco said.

"What? Why?"

"It's your birthday!" he exclaimed, "and here I've sat for the past two hours talking your ear off about..." he trailed off, "Complete nonsense!"

"Oh, it's fine," he said, waving Draco off, "This is way better than the way I was planning to spend my birthday."

"Oh? Why don't I believe you?" he asked.

"No really," Potter said earnestly. "I was just going to go for a walk and then hang out around the house."

"But why? Don't your friends want to see you?"

"Oh, the Weasleys are away. They went on a trip to Spain; when they made the plans, I'd planned to be on a beach in the Galapagos with Amelia."

"I'm taking you to dinner," he said firmly.

"I couldn't impo-"

"I insist," he interrupted. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Well if you insist," Harry said with a laugh.

"Good. I'm going to use your shower and then go get dressed and we're leaving in twenty minutes."

He chuckled, "It's a date."

--------

And it really had felt like a date, Draco reflected as they strolled back toward their apartment building after a long dinner with multiple courses and dessert.

"Thank you, by the way," Harry said, his shoulder bumping lightly into Draco's when they were just outside of their building.

"Don't mention it," he replied. "It's the least I could do."

Harry stopped and looked over at him, so Draco stopped next to him, "It's not, though," he said. "You didn't have to do any of this."

"I wanted to," he huffed.

He started to lean in closer, "Tell me if I'm reading this wrong," he whispered.

"What?"

"This," he murmured before his fingers cupped Draco's cheek and his lips pressed, soft and dry, against Draco's lips.

Harry drew back, "Alright?" he whispered.

Draco's fingers clenched in the front of Harry's shirt and he tugged him back in, slotting their lips together once more. The fingers on Harry's right hand slid through Draco's hair and his other slipped around Draco's back, drawing their bodies flush against one another as Harry's tongue brushed over Draco's bottom lip.

They stood on the sidewalk and kissed for a long moment before Harry pulled back and murmured, "Come home with me?"

"Are you sure?" Draco asked, brow furrowing.

"Never been more sure of anything in my life," he replied, pecking Draco's lips again.

He couldn't help but smile as he nodded his consent and Harry grabbed his hand and dragged him inside and straight to his bedroom.

------

Later, when they were still lying in bed talking about whatever nonsense came into the heads, Harry said, "Draco?"

"Mmmh?"

"This was probably the best birthday I've ever had."

He rolled onto his side so he could see Harry's face illuminated by the moonlight. Harry reached up and brushed his forefinger over Draco's cheekbone and Draco responded, "You've not had many good birthdays, then, have you?"

Harry laughed, "I've had some good birthdays."

"Next year," Draco said before he could think through what he was about to say, "Next year I will give you the best birthday you've ever had."

"Oh?" Harry said, grinning widely at him.

At the sweet, innocent look on Harry's face, he let himself dream, let himself imagine what life could turn out like. He nodded, "I'll wake you up with lazy morning sex, you seem like the type to really enjoy that."

"I am," Harry affirmed, his dimples showing.

Draco leaned in and pressed a kiss to the nearest dimple and said, "Then, I'll take you to Paris for breakfast."

"Ooh, Paris?"

He nodded, "I'll get you strawberry crepes with mounds of whipped cream."

"Sounds delicious," Harry said.

"Then I'll take you to a beach somewhere, Bora Bora maybe," he added, enthralled by the pleased crinkle around Potter's eyes.

He hummed, "I've never been to Bora Bora."

"No?"

Harry shook his head.

"Right, then we'll spend the whole day there, I'll sit under an umbrella all day and pretend to get annoyed when you come to kiss me and get sand and ocean water all over me."

He laughed, "As long as it's pretend."

"Then," Draco said, "I'll bring you back to a little villa that you can see the ocean through the floor and I'll cook you dinner. We'll eat together, then go swimming in the dark."

"Sounds lovely," Harry sighed.

"And then we'll come back and try out the bed that's under the stars," he said, brushing a hand over Harry's waist.

"That sounds really nice," he murmured.

"It's a date, then," Draco said.

He smiled back and echoed, "It's a date."

-------

And, true to his word, one year later Draco took Harry to Paris for breakfast and then to Bora Bora for the rest of the weekend. Harry proposed to Draco the very next morning.

--------

Day 63: Hair | Day 65: Question

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #getting together #fluffy #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlet #bisexual harry potter #send me an ask and i'll write you a ficlet #thanks for the prompt! <3

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whumpurr · 3 years

Text

Adrien and Sawdust part 6

cw: pet whump, whump recovery, bodily mutilation, self harm, brief and vague mention of past noncon, dehumanization, conditioned whumpee, unreliable narrator, brief mention of dissociation

masterlist

Sawdust was searching for his bag the second Master was gone. He hopped out of bed, punctuated with a fit of dizziness as he got to his feet, and crawled around the room looking for his duffel bag. The bright blue bag was nowhere to be found, and Sawdust wasn’t great at seeing in the dark either.

He started to wonder, to second guess himself. Did Master put the bag somewhere in the room and Sawdust just isn’t seeing it? Is he overlooking it? Did he even have a bag at all? Did it come with him to this new house, or was it left with his previous master? No, no, he remembered seeing it next to his kennel with those other people.

If he left the room now, Master would surely hear it and question him, or worse, punish him for disturbing his sleep. As much as Sawdust wanted his ears back, he just had to trust that Master would return them in due time.

Sleeping was difficult without the familiar squeeze of his headband around his head, but with a full stomach he managed to eventually fall asleep even if it took a while.

Sunlight came all too soon for Sawdust. The light peeked through the curtains and he couldn’t physically sleep any more. He was dreading going downstairs and having to face his master, having to eat beside him. He could only imagine what his master was going to do to him. Would he record him? Bring his friends over and show him how pathetic and stupid he looked eating out of a bowl on the floor? Sawdust shook himself out of his thoughts; he was just a dog anyways, he shouldn’t have enough of an ego to be embarrassed.

He was getting himself out of bed, going down onto his hands and knees when he heard a soft knock on the door, followed by Master’s quiet voice.

“Sawdust?” Master said from the other side of the heavy wooden door. “Come on, let’s go get some food.”

Sawdust got to the door and opened it with his paw, stepping out and following Master.

Master gave him a bowl of dog food once he was downstairs. Sawdust half contemplated asking Master about his ears, but really, if Master had taken them away then it was because Sawdust did not deserve them any more.

“Master,” Sawdust murmured, “Is- is there anything your pet can- can do? To assist?”

Master looked thoughtful for a moment then laughed, laughed at Sawdust.

“I think my work stuff is a bit advanced for you,” Master took a bite of his own food, “I want you to focus on… recovery, for now. Okay? That means you rest up and come get me if you want anything, food, water, whatever.”

Sawdust nodded, “Yes, Master,” before he continued eating, the hard kibble crunching satisfyingly between his teeth. He couldn’t work up the courage to ask Master about the ears or his bag, or where they’ve gone.

Lunch and dinner went similarly, with Master coming, getting his pet, and taking him downstairs to eat. Each time Sawdust couldn’t work himself up enough to ask Master about his ears. The lack of his ears made Sawdust feel… Wrong. Like he wasn’t a real dog, like he was a subpar pet. He wasn’t good enough to this new Master who had otherwise been so kind to him. What had he done to deserve this?

Night eventually fell, and Sawdust did his best to do as Master said and get to sleep. He curled up in the nest of blankets and pillows that his Master had made in the corner for him, and let himself begin to drift off. As he was doing so, he couldn’t help but wonder why his Master was withholding his belongings from him. Nevertheless, his eyelids grew heavy, and he eventually fell into a deep sleep.

Adrien was still getting accustomed to feeding someone using a dog bowl, with dog food, on the floor. It was a strange experience, and doing it made him feel dirty, but it was all Sawdust was going to accept so if it was between that or making the pet starve again, he would have to go with the former.

He was still very aware of just how lost he was in all of this. He searched the internet and scoured his social media for something that could give him some kind of life preserver in all of this. Finally, finally, he found something. A chatroom for pet owners. From the looks of it, it was heavily moderated and geared more towards pet liberation activists, and pet rehabbers, and people who actually cared for their pets. He requested to join and was accepted within the hour. He immediately sent a message to the ‘help’ section.

Adrien: >> Hey guys, I’m a new owner and I didn’t do as much research as I should have. >> Long story short, I didn’t keep as close an eye on my pet as I should’ve, and he ended up not eating because I wasn’t giving him dog food. Is that a normal thing? How can I help him?

It wasn’t five minutes before one of the other owners responded,

1Y4N4: >> oof, thats no good dude.. definitely watch him harder and probably just stick to feeding him what he wants for now. u said hes new right? let him stay in his comfort zone for a little bit probably

Adrien: >> Thanks. I’ll do that.

1Y4N4: >> np, im a bit more experienced as an owner but i dont think mine were as conditioned as urs >> at least not in that way

Zo: >> Bro wtf? You’re the source of your pet’s whole life and shit, you really should’ve done more research.

Adrien sat and watched as this ‘Zo’ person continued to rip into Adrien for his irresponsibility, though the ‘1Y4N4’ user at least tried to defend Adrien. It wasn’t long before Zo quieted down and 1Y4N4 was able to speak up again,

1Y4N4: >> lots of actual dogs eat things that arent dog chow >> maybe show your pet some videos of people feeding their dogs other stuff, maybe hell be more open then

Adrien thanked the user, and used the rest of his evening compiling some videos and researching, finding the outer bounds of what dogs could eat in hopes that he could convince Sawdust. It was far from exactly what he wanted, but he felt some semblance of satisfaction that there was at least a way to progress forwards.

Sawdust finally came up with a plan when he was coming out of the bathroom the next morning. It was before Adrien had gotten up. As Sawdust was leaving the bathroom, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

His hair was all matted, and the fringe at his forehead was beginning to grow to hide his eyes. He looked lacking without his ears. There were deep circles under his eyes. At least the peaks of his cheeks and his lips were starting to regain some color now that he had a steady supply of food which he undoubtedly did not deserve. The scratched scar across his nose bridge and cheek that one of the other dogs gave him was still there. He looked at that and followed it across his face to his second ears.

His dumb second ears, the ones on either side of his head that his last master hated so much. His previous master had always told him that they made him look less like a dog, less like a pet, when a pet was all Sawdust ever wanted to be. Because if he wasn’t a pet, then he was a toy for both Master and the other dogs, and that was one step above the most reprehensible thing he could be. He had been downgraded to ‘toy’ for a short amount of time previously, and he was eternally grateful that he was never dropped even lower, to being nothing but food for the other dogs.

Master threatened that sometimes, chopping him up and feeding him to the other dogs.

Whenever Sawdust looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help imagine it. Being cut up and thrown to other animals to eat. He found some part of himself that felt that- even if he could never do anything else right- he could do that right. He tried to halt that train of thought as quickly as he could, before his mind shunted him off to some dark, foggy place where he couldn’t think or feel until the bad thoughts went away.

But at the root of those thoughts, he found the problem, as well as the solution. He scrambled down to the kitchen as fast as he could go, wanting to work quickly before he could stop himself.

He got to the kitchen sink, and stood up on trembling, unused legs. They could hardly support his weight, he had to lean onto the granite countertop with his elbows as he reluctantly removed the tape from his paws using his teeth. He would need his fingers for this.

Sawdust’s breath was quick in his throat, the edges of his vision grew blurry as he tried to focus on this and only this. He had one task and he was not going to fail it. He wanted his ears back. He wanted his master to be happy with him again. Maybe this way he could earn his master’s attention and... Maybe even his affection, if a pet was allowed to hope.

Sawdust’s paws were shaky and clumsy as they took out the biggest knife out of the wooden blog. It was heavy and cold in his paw. With one paw he held the tip of one of his second ears and pulled it as far away from his head as he could.

The cold edge of the blade rested on his skin, at the valley between his second ear and his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t break down now, he couldn’t stop now. He took a deep, sharp breath and pressed down on the knife as hard as his feeble paws could.

Adrien shot out of bed to the sound of a piercing, howling scream from downstairs.

taglist: @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi@neuro-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @whumpcreations @dancinglifeboat @pinkraindropsfell @looptheloup @cowboy-anon @meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine

#whump #whump recovery #pet whump #whumpee #whump scenario #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #whump blog #adrien and sawdust #my writing #whump fic #whump story #pet whumpee

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Postmarked In The Past

Spencer Reid x Female Single Mom Reader

Summary: After sixteen years of no contact Reader reconnects with Spencer because she has to reveal the secret she’s been keeping since she stopped sending letters to him.

A/N: Hey heyyy! This is my sixteenth fic (it’s actually was totally unintentional to choose the 16th for this fic even though the daughter is 16 in this fic lol 😂) for my 30 fics in 30 days for April!! This one is based off of this request and is part of my unlinked Spencer Reid & Letters series! Thanks for all the love and support lately- I was going to put out my plan for my 1500 follower celebration yesterday or today but if you saw my post I’ve been struggling so it’ll probably come on the 19th or the 20th. Submit an ask here- I love hearing from everyone 🥰Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy 🥰

Warnings: Reader keeps a huge secret she definitely shouldn’t have, Reader is a single mother-the daughter doesn’t have a specified name but she is specified to be 16, Reader is very defensive when her daughter finds the letters, mentions of a one night stand

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.5k

Spencer had been a bright spot in my life, one that had been snuffed out all because of me. When I had found myself pregnant with his child, after I had visited him once, I bolted. For a long time I justified my actions, saying to myself that it was better that Spencer was unburdened while his career was just starting out. But, deep down I knew how wonderful Spencer would have been as a father, how he would have moved heaven and earth to make everything work. And, that guilt haunted me.

The memories I had of him were so far in between, every moment with him had been so fleeting at the end. I struggled to sometimes even remember how he looked as it had been sixteen years since I last laid eyes on him.

I had to strain my memory to remember the way his gelled hair curled around his ears and how sometimes I saw him let the curls free only around me. His eyes had been brown, I could remember that. But, pinpointing what shade they were when they glinted in the light or were drenched in the shadows was lost to me. I knew he had been tall and lanky, his hands reflecting that with how spindly they were. To remember how those fingers had felt on my skin, or how his lips had marked me, or how he would gently stroke my hair was too difficult. Whether it was because I couldn’t remember or that I didn’t want to, it was just too hard for me to want to try to strain my memory anymore.

The labor had been the most difficult thing I had gone through, no one had been there to hold my hand. And, I didn’t really want anybody else except Spencer holding it. I had gritted my teeth and accepted it, pushing through the physical and emotional pain, especially since the pain of losing Spencer had been entirely because of me. I had been given a beautiful baby daughter that day and it was then that I started to force myself to forget Spencer, she looked too much like him to be able to bear.

The only things that remained in my life that involved him were the letters I sent to him in the last year of our relationship while we were long distance and my daughter. The letters were able to be shoved in a box at the bottom of a closet, but my daughter confronted me with my actions everyday by existing. I loved my daughter very much, I just tried to avoid the topic of her father by concocting a lie and making myself forget all of Spencer’s features so I wouldn’t see them as much in her. My nightmare would be the two things converging to confront me with my guilt, I don’t think I could handle that.

—-

At the kitchen table I saw my daughter, holding a letter. Her holding a letter wasn’t at its core a bad thing of course, but I could tell by the slight yellowing of the paper that it was getting old. Immediately panic spread through me; there were no other old letters she’d be looking at besides mine, the ones I sent to Spencer.

“Those are private.” I snapped defensively, definitely too hostile to be reasonable. It was obvious by my tone of voice that I was hiding something.

“Private?!” She yelled, giving away that she had already read at least a few of them. I clenched my eyes shut to prepare for her question, “Are these from my father?! Who you said was a one night stand?!” I vividly remember explaining the lie I had concocted for her, her being confused why I would only be with her father once. It was a hard subject to dance around, a difficult lie for me and her to swallow. But, the alternative was too painful for me to be honest with her, or honest with Spencer. And, I knew it made me selfish, at the time it had been so Spencer wouldn’t stop his blossoming career. With time I realized that I really had done it because I had been scared. The guilt had started to sting worse when I realized that.

I had been caught, there was no weaseling out of this. I hanged my head in defeat, finally admitting to the large lie I had even roped the rest of my family in, “Yes.”

If she had been a dragon she’d be breathing fire on me while she spoke, “And why would you keep this from me! Did he do something bad or something?! Is that why you didn’t tell me?!”

“No-I-“ I stammered a few times until I found the words, “I- I did it because I didn’t want to hold him back… We were so young, and I knew he’d quit his new job across the country to come back to me.” Keeping the details still vague was my only armor right now. I kept to myself how those letters were the way we communicated for months when he started in the academy. We were only able to meet up once a month, and one month I unexpectedly fell pregnant. I never sent another letter or came to visit him again once I found out.

She clenched her jaw at me, looking back down at the scores of letters that we had written, and I had hidden. Her next question now made me clench my jaw, “C-can I see him? Or call him? Or send him a letter?” If you don’t know how to contact him anymore I’m sure we can-“

I was nervous as to where this was going. There was no way I could contact Spencer again after all these years, the guilt already ate at me everyday. Seeing and remembering his face would only make it worse. Fear was fueling me and I cut her off because of it, “No- I- I don’t think it’s a good idea...I just need more time- until I’m ready.” I started to shrink away from her, my authority slipping through my fingers as I became more and more vulnerable.

“You’ve waited sixteen years, you’ll never be ready.” The spite in her voice was stinging, she wasn’t completely wrong in her statement.. And when I didn’t answer she then stormed away, slamming the door to her room.

——

Our relationship in the few weeks following was strained at best, estranged at worse. She barely spoke to me since then, the biggest conversation we had was about what was for dinner- and that had been about two sentences long.

I was slowly coming around to the idea of perhaps finding a way for her and Spencer to reconnect. The guilt that I had been so afraid of becoming worse if I confronted it head on, only grew worse by avoiding it. I was actually going to talk to her after I got home from work, until I realized what she did.

She left her own letter on the table titled Dear Mom, detailing where she was going without giving any specifics. There was one part that gave her reasoning for writing her plan down, she didn’t want me to have a heart attack even if she was mad at me. Plus there were a few sentences about how she had used her own money that she had been saving up, which was supposed to be for college only serving to make you even more frustrated. At the bottom she wrote- I’m going to find my Dad, please don’t follow me or call the police.

I scoffed to myself, wondering if she expected her warning to not to follow her to be followed. Of course I was going to follow her, there was no way I was going to just let her go off on her own like that.

It wouldn’t be too hard to find her. Spencer may have changed apartments since then, but one quick google search of news articles he was mentioned in showed me that he still worked at the BAU in Quantico. It was probably a safe bet that my daughter did the same thing and was planning on visiting him at his office.

The plane ride there had been tumultuous, not in the sense that there was any chaotic occurrence or severe turbulence on the plan, more like in my mind. My hands shook, my foot tapped, and my mind raced while I took the long flight from Las Vegas all the way to Quantico. My mind went round in circles whether or not I viewed Spencer meeting my daughter- our daughter as a good thing. It was difficult to accept that even though they’d both most likely be mad at me, they deserved to meet. Especially since I knew how good of a father Spencer could potentially be. Once I had landed I didn’t stop, getting a cab straight from the airport to where the BAU offices were located.

The building looked daunting in front of me. It wasn’t a skyscraper by any means, but the task that I was here to do was so big it felt like one as I stared at it while trying to work up the courage to go in. The guilt however, was too hard to ignore.

My mind was on autopilot as I told the secretary at one of the front desks. It was too stressful to focus on worrying, so exhausted from the emotional roller coaster I was riding. An agent had assured me that she was safe which made some of the stress melt from my shoulders luckily.

“Here she is.” The agent gestured to the office, empty of any other person except my daughter. I felt even more relieved now that I saw her with my own eyes.

When I entered she waited a second before speaking timidly with disappointment, “He’s not here, he's on a case.” Her demeanor had deflated almost immediately as she saw me escorted up.

“Who told you that?” My arms crossed around my chest, nervous and furious all at once. I didn’t need to tell my daughter how in trouble she was, by the pout on her face she knew she’d be getting grounded for a long time even if I did let her talk to him.

“This nice lady named Garcia, she works with him. But, she did tell me I had to wait for you until she called him” For the first time since I had read her letter to me I cracked a smile. When we had still been communicating, Spencer often wrote and spoke about his teammates. Besides a fleeting photo of the team shown to me by him while I had been over here visiting, all my perceptions of the team and how they might look were all based on my imagination.

Despite that, when a vibrantly dressed woman clicked her heels into the room, I knew it was her. Spencer had perfectly described her, shining bright compared to the dull colors of the bureau’s office.

“So your Spencer’s baby mama.” Yep, she was definitely as blunt and beautiful as Spencer had described. I blanched at her comment, though I didn’t deny it, which was all she needed to know to confirm.

“Can you give me his number?” I skittered past the question, not wanting to confirm it out loud.

She beamed brightly at me, already starting to punch in the numbers with the phone on the desk in front of me. “You can call him now if you want on this phone, they just stopped working for the day.”

When she handed me the phone, it had already started ringing. I couldn’t help but panic, almost refusing the phone until my daughter nudged me forward to grab it. My finger trembled severely as I wrapped my hands around the phone, but I still managed to hold on to bring it up to my ear just as someone picked up the phone.

“Hello?” It was him, he sounded so similar to the boy you knew, that boy was a man now. He sounded more haggard compared to sixteen years ago; I wondered what all had happened since then.

“Hey- Spencer it’s me.” By the hitch in his voice that came through the speaker, he knew who it was.

At first I heard nothing from him, only some rustled feedback in the speaker. My shoulders were practically at my ears now afraid he might hang up. He did eventually stumble out a greeting, “H-hi? Why are you calling me after all these years- aaand on a phone at my work?”

“I’ve got to be honest with you,” I cryptically answered with an evident shake in my voice. I was biting my nails now, not caring if I chipped the polish on them. My daughter grabbed my hand to comfort me even though she was probably still furious at me which helped coax out my next statement, “cause I haven’t told you why I stopped talking to you…” I breathed in deeply once before I finally admitted the secret I had held for so many years, “Spencer, you have a daughter, she just turned sixteen.”

Dead silence was all I got, that was until I heard a choked out sob from him, “Why?”

He didn’t need to elaborate any further, it was quite clear what he was asking. Again another meek shaky reply came from me, “There were a lot of reasons- the main one was I didn’t want to hold you back.”

My daughter was now crying as was I, I hadn’t given her my reasoning until now. Maybe one day I’d give Spencer all the reasons why I had hidden it from him for so many years even though it was painful. I had held a lot of guilt about not ever contacting him again or even sending another letter. Spencer deserved to know everything, especially about his daughter who was the spitting image of him in almost every way.

“Can I talk to her?” I agreed, which seemed to surprise my daughter. I think she thought I’d be furious enough with her to not let her speak to him. She would still be getting many privileges taken away from her, just not this one as it was my fault she never knew her father in the first place. My fingers shook even more as I moved to click the speaker button so he could hear her speak.

“Hi- dad.” They spoke for a while, while I took the back seat, barely interjecting. They both deserved every ounce of father and daughter time that I had deprived them from throughout the years. My chest did feel lighter now that I had told him, now that my daughter was getting the chance to know him. Hearing them laugh and giggle with each other almost immediately only cemented how much she was her father’s daughter.

When the phone was handed back to me, after seemingly hours of talking (Garcia had even popped in a few times to get me more coffee) Spencer asked,“Can you stay in Quantico till I get back?”

I smiled, happy that I’d finally be able to see and remember his face again after all this time, “We’ll be here waiting, it’s time you meet your daughter in person.”

Ask Me Anything

—

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All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @boxofsparklingmuses @multixfandomwriter @takeyourleap-of-faith

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#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fluff #mgg #mgg x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #30 fics in 30 days

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mxpseudonym · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Tommy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Polly Shelby wants you, a shy, single, slightly anxious churchgoer, to meet her nephew, the dangerous gangster Tommy Shelby. He’s more than gentlemanly at first glance, which only adds to his attractive charm. After weeks of being on edge and going no farther than heavy petting, you finally decide to push for having Tommy devour you. However, entering the bedroom with Tommy Shelby means you’ll have to follow his saucy rules. Agreeing requires a verbal, enthusiastic, “Yes, Sir” and leaving your shame at the door.

Length: 2738 words (allegedly)

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, lite Dom/sub, Consensual as all hell

A/N: Sorry I’m late, but honestly that’s very me so. Anyway, hope you’re ready because I am y/n, you are y/n, we are all y/n this time round. 😏

"Need some help?"

You looked up from where you were kneeling on the floor to see none other than Polly Shelby. You'd pulled your rosary too tight again, and the thread snapped from the tension. Now, before you could stop her, Polly was kneeling and helping you pick them up.

Polly was always kind to you. When needed, she shared her hymn book and complimented your church hats that matched your dresses particularly well. Even though you never had much to say, she was always casually chatting with you.

"You're not seeing anyone, are you?" Polly asked, catching you off guard. Was this why she was so lovely? Two women in an empty church, and one of them confesses to the other. What would God say?

"I'm not."

"You should meet my nephew, Thomas. I think you'd make quite the pair."

You smiled at the invitation. It wasn't out of flattery, per se, but more because you knew it must have been difficult for Polly to be an aunt taking on her duty as a familial matchmaker when her nephews ran the most dangerous gang in Small Health. Polly didn't seem like the type to let anything happen to you if things didn't work out on a simple date, and you felt indebted to her for being such a good friend to you. So you nodded.

"Well, if he asked me to dinner, I'm sure I wouldn't say no."

You didn't think much of it, quite frankly. In the year that you'd been in Small Heath, you'd turned down enough dinner invitations to be thought of as a godly woman and a prude. Not that you minded. You were single and childless in the newly bustling city of Birmingham, and living alone for the first time in your life was a luxury you didn't want to give up. You had your mother's pistol tucked in your bag and a vague idea of how to shoot it, so you were safe enough, but the added rumor that you were unapproachable was helpful.

If anything, what surprised you most was Thomas Shelby actually showing up to church that Sunday. Even leaning against the stone wall outside with a cigarette in hand was enough to cause a stir as the congregation poured out of the church.

He was a handsome man, and his cool, certain eyes seemed to see right through you. Even with your heart thumping in your chest, gravitating towards him was only natural. He was waiting for you, after all.

"Y/n L/n?" He asked, his voice deep and telling of his : upbringing. It fit him well, you thought as you looked at him from under your sun hat.

"Mr. Shelby," you said with a nod.

"My aunt seemingly won't rest until I ask you to dinner," he said, dipping a hand into his pocket to reach for more cigarettes.

"Oh? Is this you doing it?"

Tommy's head tilted at you as he took in your smile and looked you over. You were already a bit bold for someone who was meeting a hoodlum. A smirk crept onto his face. He wasn't complaining.

"Ms. l/n, would you have dinner with me?" He asked. You paused, causing him to sigh and pull out his cigarettes. "My aunt promised I wouldn't get rejected by a beautiful woman if I got the courage to ask. Now I'm embarrassed."

"I'm sure you're not," you said, laughing to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "But I will go to dinner with you, Mr. Shelby. I did promise Miss Shelby." Tommy looked you over again before nodding.

"I look forward to it."

.:.

When Tuesday evening rolled around, Tommy was at your doorstep in a fine suit. If you had any doubt about your long, beaded dress being nice enough, Tommy pushed the thoughts away in an instant.

"You look stunning, Miss l/n," he praised you while holding out his arm.

"Thank you, Tommy. You look very handsome tonight as well."

There was an air of authority about him, yet his gaze was soft when he met your eyes and smiled. The car ride was comfortable enough and did nothing to prepare you for the exquisite venue. The ceilings were high, and the decor was elegant.

"It's my job to find a venue a quarter as lovely as the woman accompanying me, isn't it," Tommy said when you mentioned that it was possibly too fancy for you.

"Oh please," you murmured, waving away the compliment.

At some point throughout the night, you wondered if you'd been on a better date. Tommy took care of everything, from directing the butlers in their penguin suits to ordering things he seemed to know you'd like. ON your own, you'd have spent half an hour choosing a meal, and god only knew how long getting a server's attention. But tonight, you were left to focus on his witty storytelling that left you laughing behind your napkin. Tommy raised a hand and grasped yours. It was a small amount of contact but, perhaps the wine or the man himself made you want more of his warmth. All too soon, he gently pulled your hand down and into your lap.

"Don't hide. I want to hear more from you," Tommy said. Your cheeks flashed hot as your mind took a naughty detour for a moment.

"Okay, Tommy."

It was after dinner that truly hooked you to the man. He wrapped you in his jacket before helping you into his car and driving you home. His hand rested on your knee on the way back. Yet, when he stood in front of your door, you were greeted with a hug. You didn't realize it until you leaned into his embrace that you were a bit anxious about a goodnight kiss or even Tommy pushing his way into your apartment. Gangster or not, he was a strong man with a domineering personality. He could have anything he wanted. You hadn't guessed that meant a simple hug and a request for a second date. Still, it left you smiling as you watched his car drive away from the entrance of your apartment.

.:.

"Ah, this is favorite."

"Really?"

"Winston Churchill himself recommended it."

You turned to Tommy with a skeptical eye.

"Liar."

"How could I find the strength to lie to you, y/n?"

You rolled your eyes but turned back to the new gramophone in front of you. You had several dates with Tommy, and his gentlemanly behavior only continued. He never tried anything scandalous or forward, even as he managed to charm you to high heaven. There were times you wondered if, and perhaps even secretly hoped for, Tommy would move his hand up your thigh or kiss your neck. But it seemed that every date was an opportunity for him to learn more about you. He was more perceptive than you knew. He understood what you wanted and even made you feel like he could read your mind sometimes.

You'd had partners before, even an adulterous ex-fiance, but with them, it felt like they were trying to learn your secrets to use against you. With Tommy, it seemed like he used that information to make you happy. Your eyes lit up when he brought you your favorite kind of pastry and a new scarf in your favorite color.

His latest gift was the record player, and you shamelessly used the gift of music as an excuse to finally invite Tommy inside after a month of dating when it was clear he wouldn't do it himself.

"You're quite the gentleman, Mr. Shelby," you mused as you slow danced in your living room. Tommy's hand flattened over your spine and pulled you closer.

"I'd say you're bringing out the best in me yet, Ms. y/l/n."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against yours. You moaned softly against his lips as your swaying left the rhythm of the song to match you and Tommy. There was a hunger in his kiss that made you wonder just how much he was holding back. He could have any woman he wanted, you thought, but he was patiently kissing you to your liking and no more. His hand moved to thumb the buttons on your dress, and you pulled away gently. A guiding hand on your lower back or a calloused hand helping you out of the Bentley made your heart flutter, yet you still hesitated to take things further.

"Wait, Tommy."

"Hm?"

"Not yet," you said shyly, not able to look him in the eyes. Tommy smirked at you. Little did you know, this confirmed several things he knew about you.

"Good girl."

Your eyes shot up to his in shock. What was this? His choice of words, his praise, the feeling of your insides warming all filled you with a sense of wonder. There was something in his eyes that looked satisfied and almost like an invitation. Would you accept? Accept what exactly?

Not knowing the question or your answer, you kissed him again.

.:.

Good girl.

Those two words were planted in your mind like seeds meant to sprout a specific restlessness.

You thought about it passively for a while. At first, you wondered if you should be upset. Was Tommy treating you like a child? But nothing he did ever made it feel that way. If anything, Tommy was the one person who treated you most like a woman. After a few weeks, you began to think of it too often. On your lunches with Tommy or when he took you to the horse races, you wondered if he'd repeat it. You were eager to hear him say it.

When you thought about it alone in the bath, you realized you couldn't hold it together much longer. Your eyes fluttered closed as you remembered that night. But memories turned to fantasy, and you could feel his breath against your ear.

"Good girl. You're a good girl, y/n."

Your hands moved before you could think much about it. It had been a while since you'd done this, sliding a delicate finger between your legs.

"Good girl," you whispered, your voice echoing off the walls and sending the praise back to you. You swirled your clit and repeated it again. Thinking of all the ways Tommy had touched you, even innocently, remembering the feeling and that casual smirk he wore. "Tommy, fuck, yes, I'm a good girl- ah!"

Your thighs squeezed your hand as your hips jerked with a strong release. Your eyes opened, and you stared at the ceiling.

"This is getting ridiculous."

.:.

Tommy was just a little too good at listening to you, you decided. Anything you told him not to do was met with praise, and he'd never do it again. You'd expected, based on past experiences with men, that Tommy would try to push you until you were just where he wanted you. Instead, you were the one spacing out during dinner while admiring how good he looked in his suit. Would you prefer it on or off if he were devouring you?

Tommy asked if you felt alright, which made you ashamed to even think the way you were. When did you get so lewd? It was in your apartment that Tommy let you know he knew exactly what you were thinking. You sat next to him on your couch, handing him a nightcap of brandy.

"Y/n, you know that I care about you, don't you?"

"Yes, of course." You nodded quickly. Was this actually the end of things? You hoped not.

"I care about you more than I thought I could. And one of those reasons is because you know what you want," said Tommy as he sat his glass down.

Your brows furrowed at the words. You thought you were indecisive and unable to speak up. If only Tommy knew how you'd been suffering. He continued after reading the confusion on your face.

"Whenever we come back here, you know how far you want to go, and you know when to make a man like me stop."

"Oh,"

"I won't push you, love. I'm as patient as ever, so if you want more or less, that's up to you. It's whatever you'd like."

Tommy leaned over and placed a hand on your knee reassuringly, though it only helped your heart beat harder. You shifted in your seat, uneasy with the amount of power you realized you had.

"I see."

"If we do go further, I'd like to implement a few rules. How does that sound?"

"Rules?" You tilted your head. You liked rules and systems. Even as a coat check girl, you were known for your orderly approach to things.

"Yes, if you decide that's something you want to explore, we'll talk then. But no need to worry about it until you're ready."

"I actually wanted to talk to you about doing more," you said bashfully, though it was a lie. You'd planned to simply move Tommy's hand under your skirt and have him put you out of your misery.

"Come here, y/n."

Tommy brought you to sit on his lap. His hand caressed your thigh, and the other was around your waist. Your arms wrapped around him as your reveled in the feeling of safety.

"Alright, Mr. Shelby, what are they?"

"I'm going to tell you them, and you need to remember the order, alright?" He asked, and you nodded, only to have him tsk you. "Ah, love, when I ask you a question, I want to hear your voice. I want to make sure you're sure. That's rule number one: everything we do requires a verbal agreement. Try it now."

"Oh, then, yes. I'll remember the order, Tommy."

"Good girl," he praised, making you smile softly. "Rule number two is that you can't cum until I tell you, alright sweetheart?"

"Tommy!" You jolted in surprise. You didn't know what you thought he was going to say, but that was not it. He chuckled at your reaction and squeezed your waist. He would have stopped if you asked, but for now, he was well aware that you were already starting to squirm in his lap. His sweetheart liked being a little flustered, didn't you?

"Rule number three is that I am in charge of your body. I have full access to it, and you, love," Tommy reached up and tilted your chin so he could give you a saccharine kiss, "you may not touch yourself unless I say."

The mix of salacious words and tender caresses sent waves of desire straight to the apex of your thighs. Could Tommy tell that you'd been doing just that?

"Rule four is that you have to tell me when you don't like something. You do that so well already, and I'm proud of you for that."

"T-thank you," you murmured. You couldn't help but bite your lip. Such simple words of praise were sending you into a mild frenzy.

"When you want me to stop, just say 'no more, I'm satisfied.' Can you do that?" He asked you, and you nodded. This time, however, you quickly remembered what Tommy told you before.

"Yes. No more. I'm satisfied," you repeated the phrase while wondering when you'd use it.

"You can say that for anything at all. If you're uncomfortable, or even just a little too tired."

"Okay."

You nodded in agreement, though you couldn't help be feel nervous. After weeks of nothing more than a mild groping hand, Tommy was proving to be this person? But maybe it was the way that you couldn't stop yourself from squirming, trying to press your legs together for some type of friction that made you equally excited. Tommy kissed you again and held your chin.

"Sweetheart, I promise that I'll use these to make you feel really good. I hope you can trust me, and I trust you to use that voice of yours and tell me when you don't like something, yes?"

"Yes."

"Do you agree then? Do those rules sound good to you?" He asked you directly.

"Yes," you nodded, then softly adjusted. Something in you made you want to add, "Yes, Sir."

Tommy squeezed your thigh, and you looked to his eyes to see a burning fierceness in them. He really enjoyed that. It was nice knowing he wasn't embarrassing you. You were in this together.

"Good girl."

#As You Please Series #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby Smut #Dom!Tommy #Tommy Shelby Imagine #spicy writing

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enigmawrappedinhypocrisy · 3 years

Text

*Request* Okay. Thanks! Could the reader be in to wrestling and her and barley are best friends? And something happened and they find out they’re falling for each other? And Ian is always teasing the reader? And a kiss at the end? Sorry if it’s a bit confusing.. again thanks!

Okay I’m not sure how to do this… and I’m not into wrestling… And i’m really bad at this getting things done thing… sooo… I’m sorry, I know this has been in my asks for 100 years. But excuses… And i’m tired of this being in my drafts sooo… However, Hopefully it's decent enough.

Fandom: Onward

Pairings: Barley x Reader (mention of grandchildren once but nothing that indicates gender... I think...)

Warnings: Bad writing, Quick Mention of drunk idiots harassing reader, I don’t know a thing about Wrestling, Fluff, very bouncy thoughts... a tiny little bit of almost angst.

❀✦ Master List✦❀

You met Barley at a wrestling match when a few drunk idiots decided to hassle you. As they tend to do…

You ran into the first, seemingly safe person you saw. You looked at him with puppy eyes and were grateful he understood your silent plea.

Barley smiled warmly and put his arm around you. He pretended to be your boyfriend until the guys lost interest in you and left. He made some jokes to lighten the mood and struck up a casual conversation with you, as if you really did know each other. You found yourself amazed and feeling better, it seemed this elf boy radiated security and gentleness.

Then, with a simple thank you, you’d parted ways; only to run into each other again at the local diner after the match. It was there you had sat and talked well into the early hours of the morning.

You learned he was interested in many things you were, and you just felt… content around him. By the time you had to part, numbers were exchanged, and he’d texted you before noon that day.

You began hanging out shortly after that. You were nearly always at each other’s house, and quickly became close with his family. His mother adored you and his brother felt comfortable enough to joke around with you.

All in all you and Barley were quite close.

But not as close as your family's seemed to think you were… or maybe hope would be more appropriate…

The weekend had finally arrived and you made your way to Barley’s house, as planned, after work.

There was a big wrestling event in the evening and you and Barley had plans to hang out and watch it together. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to spend a lot of time at the Lightfoot house so no one batted an eye when you showed up a little early.

Ms. Lightfoot welcomed you and let you know that Barley had called saying he'd be a little late, and she was going out with friends. As she was leaving she turned to wink at you telling you, with a knowing look, to have fun.

You thanked her as you felt your cheeks flush with warmth and made your way to the familiar living room. You didn't mind waiting for Barley, in fact, you'd be willing to wait all night if it meant spending time with him. Not that you would tell him that...

Lost in your thoughts about how dumb and sappy that sounded even in your mind, and the implications therein, you hadn't noticed Barley's brother come in.

You had spent a fair amount of time with both brothers since you’d first met Barley. So by this time Ian was pretty comfortable around you, sometimes even coming to you for help or advice. Especially when it entailed something he might have been too embarrassed about to ask his mother or brother about.

Ian had decided to take a break from homework, and get a snack when he found you lost in thought on his couch. When he came back from the kitchen only to find you with the same dazed expression several minutes later he decided to tease you a little.

"Barley late for date night?" Ian asks, his tone even, leaning against the wall an apple in hand.

"Yea- wait no! Why would you say that?" You blink taken off guard by the sudden question.

Ian raises an eyebrow in a ‘really?’ expression.

“Shut up” you try and fail to keep the blush from your voice. "We're just… eh… hanging out!" You defend a little too enthusiastically.

“Interesting that’s the part you chose to respond to…” Ian chuckles, before heading back upstairs. If you weren't ready to admit your feelings, who was he to do it for you… besides, this was far more amusing.

It wasn't much longer until Barley arrived home, a little disheveled. The match wasn't due to start for another hour, maybe more depending on how things went, and yet it looked like the elf boy had rushed home.

Why?

The only thought that continued to creep into your mind was you… he rushed home to see you. The idea of It warmed your heart, and filled you with a longing. A longing for a potential life where Barley was coming home after work each day to see you.

He'd find you cooking… reading… working on some project… and kiss you.

You'd ask him about his day… and he yours.

You'd share a pleasant dinner and end the night cuddled on the couch…

You’d be happy…

Ian's words run on loop in your mind and you don’t notice the way Barley’s face lights up upon seeing you.

Did Barley think you were dating? That this was a date?

Did he want it to be?

Did you?

You hadn't noticed you were staring until Barley brought attention to it.

"What?" You jump.

"I asked why you were looking at me like that?" he gives you his charming little half smile as he repeats, what you assume was, his earlier question.

"Oh, um… nothing… no reason" you blush and desperately avoid looking at him.

Barley watches you for a moment, clearly not believing your answer, but gives in with a shrug.

"I'm just gonna go put my stuff down and get something to drink… you want something?" He asks.

"Okay, um… no thanks" you try to sound casual all the while you're incredibly aware of your quickening heartbeat.

Barley nods before leaving you, calling to you from the kitchen. He asks about your day. You give a non answer in response and ask him about his.

He goes on to tell you about some funny thing his boss said in response to an irate customer, and soon returns to the living room. He hands you your drink before flopping down next to you.

You scold him as you nearly spill. Not really realizing he brought you something even though you told him you didn’t need him to… not only that, but it was definitely your favorite… why would he… how…

"Sorry my love" he smirks, clearly not sorry.

You roll your eyes giving him a little shove in response to the nickname. He often called you sweet things. Things you previously attributed to his personality or teasing but now they had you wondering.

When he called you those things, sweetheart, darling, dear… was he actually hinting at what he really felt?

You look at him out of the corner of your eye and quickly squeak noticing he was watching you with an indescribable emotion.

"W-what?" You try to act casual.

"What's wrong with you?" He asks, blunt and to the point.

"What do you mean?" You try and play it off, as if your mind wasn’t playing that little game with the levers and ball… and see you can’t even remember what it’s called… and it’s your analogy…

PINBALL! Your brain was playing pinball… the dinging buzzing things the ball hits against being the sudden and many thoughts… which makes you the ball? Or was the ball the thoughts… bouncing around… there goes the analogy again…

"You're being all quiet and…” he indicates you vaguely, “did my mom say something to you? She's been teasing me about grandchildren lately, she didn't say something like that too you did she?"

Your eyes widen and you suspect Barley didn't mean to let that slip out by the blush now coloring his ears.

"No… but um… what-what do you tell her when she asks about that kind of stuff?" Yeah super subtle…

Barley scratches the back of his neck, “I tell her we haven't discussed that…"

Wait…

"Why would we… Um Barley?" You push away your insecurities, fear that you’d read the situation wrong, and decide to just jump in with both feet.

Or tip over the machine? Does it work now? The analogy?

He 'hmms'.

"Do you think we're dating?" You try to phrase it gently but cringe when you hear yourself. You don’t want to come across rude, like you’re making fun of him… but also don’t wanna let on how much you’re starting to suspect you want him to say yes…

Barley looks away from you, practically purple at this point.

"Uh… no of course not…" It sounded small, nervous but... hopeful?

"Do… do you want to?" you manage to force out, slightly proud of your mostly even tone.

Do you?

You’re still not sure at this point yourself, you’d only just realized the way you feel about the elf boy that was your best friend. Did you want to risk that? What happens if this was just a little puppy attraction, lust thing… and whatever relationship you begin quickly sizzles out?

Barley is looking at his hands as he nervously fiddles with the zipper of his vest. He bites his lip and tries to avoid your gaze.

Oh…

You soften, “It’s okay if you do… I mean… wanna… um…” Now you can’t find the words, which becomes more difficult when Barley looks up at you, hope shining in his eyes.

“What are you saying?” he prompts, heart pounding in his chest. He hopes you can’t hear it.

You shift, turning towards him slightly. “Well… if you wanted to maybe go on a date or something…”

“Yes?”

“I’d probably be okay with that… I mean… if you want to” you add the last part, now desperately hoping this wasn’t some awful joke.

Barley smiles, reaching forward to brush a piece of hair from your face. “Do you wanna go on a date with me?” He asks softly, apparently having gained some confidence back.

You nod, leaning into his touch before you realize you’re doing it.

“Tomorrow night?” he suggests.

Again, you nod, not trusting your voice.

Barley smiles, his attention turning back to the tv. The match was starting soon, the announcers already talking about what they expect to happen. He leans back, his arm resting behind you on the top of the couch. Not an uncommon thing for the elf boy. What was uncommon, however, was you relaxing against his side and how right it felt.

Without a word, perhaps because he wasn’t sure he could trust his voice either, Barley brings his arm down around you, holding you against him.

If you had the courage yourself to look up at him, you would have seen the flushing upon his cheeks. But either way this was comfortable and you weren’t in a hurry to end it any time soon.

A few hours later Barley's mom returns home. Maaaybe a little drunk which results in her cooing loudly when she finds you and Barley asleep and cuddling on the couch.

This, and her half stumbling up the stairs, manages to rouse you and Barley from your comfortable nap.

Barley yawns, and slowly gets to his feet.

"Come on, I'll drive you home" he offers another yawn soon follows.

"Don't worry, I can drive myself" you stretch, not really pleased with the idea of making the trip home yourself.

"You're too tired- not safe" Barley half murmurs.

"You're too tired" you retort.

"You should stay here… on the couch… or I can take the couch" he stumbles over his words.

You nod in agreement flopping back on the couch. When Barley doesn't leave you raise a brow in question.

"I was just thinking…" he shuffles from one foot to the other.

You watch him with patient eyes, now a little more alert. You'd let him say what he needed, when he needed not wanting to rush him.

"I mean… if I don't drive you home I can't kiss you goodbye…"

His ears were a dark maroon by now and you can't keep the smile from your eyes. His sweetness, his bashfulness, just how God damn cute he was. And most of all… how much you wanted to kiss his pink tinted face.

So you did.

You stood, quicker than he could react, grabbed his face on either side, and brought his lips to yours. After a moment of shock Barley’s arms come around you, keeping you too him.

You can't say for sure if the head rush you felt was from the kiss or standing too suddenly, but you chose to think it was the kiss as you give him several more little pecks before eventually breaking apart with a yawn.

"Better?" You ask, your head falling forward to lean against his shoulder.

Barley nods before pulling back, calling a good night to you, and hurrying to his room.

You chuckle softly before flopping once again on the couch… there'd be time tomorrow to deal with all this… but for now… sleep was calling and the old couch was far too inviting…

*And that’s all folks*

#Barley Lightfoot #Barley X Reader #Barley Lightfoot x reader #Onward #Once again writing about something I don't know about #Request #Fluff

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authoressskr · 3 years

Text

Tracking Death and Magic, pt 2

Characters: f!Reader [known in this fic as Duchess], Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Phil Coulson, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, mentions of Dr. Strange, OFCs

Warnings: Language, death, angst, and no Beta :: Notes: this was written for @captain-kelli’s #ckcomebacktour – WELCOME BACK!! :: Word Count: 10,414

Mythological + Fairy Tale Creatures AU feat. Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Bucky, Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Steve, Giant!Hulk side Bruce, Born Witch!Wanda, Hellhound mix!Reader

Someone is hunting down those with Fae blood in New York. And no one can figure out why or who is behind the crimes. So higher ups in the city hand the case over to SHIELD, who deals with the more difficult supernatural cases. But even after two weeks, this small elite team can’t seem to figure out where the person or persons responsible will strike or the reasoning behind it. Anyone with a drop of Fae blood is scared…scared of being kidnapped or killed. Time to call in some outside help.

Prompt: [*In Part 1*] “All of those people are alive right now - all because of her.”

[ Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, translate, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. 18+ ONLY PLEASE, all content providers don’t want serious repercussions from underage interactions, myself included. ]

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and *very* appreciated! -+-

Part One

You could feel it as you walked up to the sidewalk where Cyrus had been killed. The now dried and cleaned sidewalk not hiding it’s dark shadows from you in the waning late afternoon light.

The creeping, underhanded power of the Seelie Court brushing against you.

The poison is a prominent smell to your hound side still since it’s only been a day and a half. Cyrus’s soul hasn’t lingered, so that at least is a blessing, but the conversation with your uncle and this fresh site is putting your nerves on the very edge. You can ‘see’ the faint magic outline where he died, you knew he’d be wearing his homemade medallion to ward off evil. Swallowing, you kneel where his feet would have been, reaching out with your magic.

The flashes that echo painfully through your mind make you gasp.

The cloaked figure is stealing magic. Taking it violently. To him, the more violent and quick, the better. It honestly just makes your stomach roll, the saliva building in your closed and clenched mouth.

But why? You can taste the lighter magic associated with the Seelie Court - the Court of Light - the kind that humans and others often think of when they think of the fair folk. The court thought, it doesn’t deal with humans or others unless absolutely needed…

When you told Hades you suspected a member of the higher courts on your little walk, you hadn’t anticipated to be able to feel it. The boots, the glistening silver swords, the escape when you had moved a forgotten tiny part of the sithen under the alley -- now it all makes a lot more sense now. The shiver that runs down your spine at the implications this creates. May the God and Goddess spare all those innocents involved, you pray quickly.

A henchman for the shining Seelie Court, sweet baby Jesus. What had you gotten yourself into?? What had SHIELD stumbled into??

The residual death is quick, but still it steals into you, taking away what little baited breath you had. Feeling the tears prickle your eyes as you try to figure out these new pieces of the puzzle.

Hades can’t help you - Gods can’t interfere with other pantheons businesses, good or bad.

Hades can’t save you from the other half of yourself.

It was something you had always known in the back of your mind, but the harsh slap of it hurt more than the death and falling pieces of this horrible plot. But...just maybe there could be a light in this cave of fae intrigue and murder. There are others whom you can save.

The three stolen wouldn’t be taken to the sithen, that would be too obvious of their involvement. Plus, they were fae and thus could leave as long as not put into a dungeon there and theoretically had enough power and know-how to do so. But had the cloaked figure been draining them, you weren’t sure if they could get out or away.

So, that would mean they were still somewhere close by.

The last traces of magic from the murder, Cyrus’s own traces, and your hellhound senses in overdrive to track everything - you’re drowning as the sun sinks just a tad lower in the sky, creating the beginnings of the lovely orange autumn color you adore. Fall was closer than you remembered. You can vaguely hear your name being said, like being underwater almost. Then you can smell sage, lemon and juniper - the sweet smells of the entrance to the Underworld.

The way the newcomer says your name grounds you, while Bucky calling your name brings you closer to the surface - your mate...Bucky brings you back to reality. And he’s protective and bristling slightly at the other man who is holding your arm’s firmly.

You’re looking up at the slightly blurry face of a traditionally handsome Greek man, all muscle and blurry smile, with thick black hair and sweet honey brown eyes.

“I hate your human disguise sometimes,” You grunt and turn to plop down on your ass as Bucky watches as the man lean in and proceed to lick from your chin up to your hairline. “Okay, okay...thank you Cerb,” You shove his chest gently to get him to release you, reaching for Bucky’s hand automatically. “This is my mate, Bucky. Don’t snap at him.” Cerberus gives you puppy dog eyes, his nerves calming down slightly to hold his form better. So at least now it was one face instead of the three blurry ones superimposed over each other.

“Did you just say Cerby?!” Wanda sounds astonished.

“As in Cerberus?” Natasha questions calmly. The guardian to the Underworld stands up and he’s visibly excited looking from you to Natasha and Wanda.

“Yes,” You coo. “This is my best friend in the whole world and Underworld, Cerberus. Cerberus, this is Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers is his best friend. Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Phil Coulson. Wanda Maximoff and her twin, Pietro.”

“Pleasure,” His deep voice almost has an echo to it. “Lord said you needed looking after, pup. He was right. Too close.”

“I know,” You sigh out as your hand subconsciously clenches Bucky’s a little tighter even after he helps you up.

“No,” Cerberus growls. “Close.”

“Fucking great,” You growl out in reply, anger rising.

“See anything?” Phil asks, forehead furrowed just so. You sigh again, anger dissipating as quickly as it had boiled up.

“We are in a shit ton of trouble.”

“We are aware of that, kid,” Steve states, crossing his arms over his wide chest.

“Nooo. Like real shit ton of trouble. Seelie Court trouble.” Phil lets out a string of curses as Clint’s stance gets more rigid. “The cloaked asshole is working for the Seelie Court. I can taste the residual light magic. And he’s stealing magic. That’s why he’s been killing most of them. Kidnapping the more powerful ones to drain them continuously, I’m guessing.”

“He can’t take them back to the golden sithen,” Phil states, following where you’re leading. “So they’re still in the area.”

“I think he took them where there’s more greenery and nature, it would make it more comfortable for him. Someplace secretive to drain and hide them.”

“Central Park,” Bucky reasons. “It makes the most sense. It would be easy for him to hide them there, especially if he was -” He stops as you start exhibiting nervous energy beside him, enough to upset his wolf and your scent to change. “What is it?”

“Only royalty can move the sithen,” You whisper, eyes focused solely on Phil.

“I have to let Fury know…” Phil looks at you with pity and sadness appearing in his blue eyes. “Everything.”

“I figured as much when I tasted their magic,” face contorting with a pained expression is all Bucky sees on your lovely face as you whisper the words defeatedly. He’s on edge now with your changing emotions and scents, trying to keep his eyes from shifting too much or his fangs popping out to prepare for the impending fight, the need to protect and soothe you almost overwhelming him internally.

“I’m sorry,” He offers, moving forward to squeeze your shoulder sympathetically, withdrawing the phone from his pant pocket as your free hand shoots forward to grip his wrist tightly, a plea written plainly for all to see on your almost panicking face.

“Please Phil...delay it til the morning. I can’t...they’ll -” Bucky and Steve can taste the fear that’s rolling off you now, raising his hackles as Cerberus eyes him with interest before returning his gaze to Duchess.

“I won’t let your other side harm you,” Cerby snarls, his handsome olive face contorted with anger as you wince hard. Bucky tugs you into him as much as he can with your iron grip still on Phil, soothing the pacing and snarling wolf in his head as much as he is soothing you.

That’s why you said you should be better at wording things, Bucky thinks to himself, nuzzling his nose into your hair, fangs no longer a worry as your scent shifts yet again to worry. Only now he realizes you are concerned about how he sees you.

“Do you care I’m a werewolf and vampire crossbreed 100 year old plus former assassin?” Bucky mumbles softly against your head, making you pull away to look up at him, shock and confusion making you wrinkle your forehead at your mate. Your scent shifts to calm Bucky now, eyes tearing up just a tad as his wolf shakes and settles down. Mate needs reassurance.

“No!” You release Phil’s wrist to cup Bucky’s cheek, thumb moving over the course hairs of his beard. “I don’t care what you are. You’re mine, James.” The light in Bucky’s eyes stun you with his smile, his eyes crinkling beautifully. Just radiating his happiness in that simple little motion of his elated smile, your inner hound almost dopey at the tenderness your mate is exuding.

“Then why would I care if you're half fae?” He presses his forehead down against yours, making you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from falling. “You’re my mate, Duchess. I don’t care what you are, as long as I get to keep you. Understand, doll?”

“I just don’t want to be known as one of them...as one of the Shining Court. That’s not me.” You keep your eyes squeezed close, taking comfort in your mate’s touch and his surrounding scent, blocking out everything but Bucky.

“You moving that fast with that sword was hot though,” Bucky rumbles out, making laughter just peel out of you, opening your eyes to be met with those intensive cerulean orbs.

“You’re too good,” You copy his statement from the closet earlier, smiling up at the most important person in your life.

But that comment does make you think, yanking your forehead away from Bucky to snap back to Coulson.

“Phil! It’s for my father!”

“You sure?”

“It has to be! Only royalty can move the sithen! The High Prince has probably a quarter of the fae power I do and his son probably barely enough to magically open a doorway in the sithen.”

“Wait,” Clint starts, twirling a toothpick between his front teeth before pointing it at you and continuing. “So you’re a fae princess?!”

You wince again, Bucky’s metal fingers slipping under the edge of your shirt bottom to stroke your skin to ease the emotions swirling in and around you - at least they are much more in control and subdued than minutes ago. “Technically, yes.” You admit in a defeated whisper. “My grandmother is the Queen of the Seelie Court.”

“Which is why Peter said you were ordering the cloaked man to answer you,” Steve states, rolling his shoulders to relieve some tension. Too late you realize that since Steve and Bucky are actually pack that he was getting some diluted effects of your emotional rollercoaster just now just by being so close to the two of you. ‘Sorry,’ You mouth to him as he gives you a soft smile in return.

“So that’s why the ground shook?” Bucky asked, forehead slightly furrowed at Phil then down to you. “How can you move the whole sithen?”

“Oh, I can’t. I couldn’t do that unless I was Queen and would need a whole lot of blood magic to back it up to move it. And honestly, the sithen is a living thing, so it would need to be...um...convinced. But moving pieces of it - especially forgotten or ‘dead’ spaces that the court don’t access - is fairly easy if you know what you are doing. Hades is Lord of the Underworld. Is the “Underworld” just under Greece? No. It’s everywhere AND a specific place. The same properties apply to the sithen,” You shrug as if it hasn’t really occurred to you the schematics of it all.

“Ahh, sort of like the Sanctum Sanctorum of Dr. Strange’s,” Pietro supplies, tapping a finger against his chin with a small grin.

“Yes and no.”

“I was thinking more like the jet,” Wanda supplies to her twin who frowns at her.

“So if Dr. Strange had a Sanctum Sanctorum jet?”

“Jesus. Christ.” Coulson and Natasha mutter loudly in sync, sighing and turning away slightly from the twins and Clint who is nodding along with their continued discussion.

“So could you find the piece of the sithen in Central Park?” Steve moves the conversation back to the kidnapped victims, you watching him unclench and clench his right hand slightly. You move a little more into Bucky and reach for Steve’s right hand. His head snaps over to you almost comically fast, while you just try to exude a calming energy. Bucky whispers a soft ‘thank you’ against your temple before gently reaching over to squeeze Steve’s shoulder. You can almost feel Steve’s blood pressure drop once both you and Bucky are calm and now working on calming him.

“Yeah, I could. I’ve scented the magic signature he’s used both attacking me and at the crime scenes, so shouldn’t be too hard to locate it. I mean, I won’t be exactly spot on, but will be close enough to be able to move the sithen bit to me and manipulate it open hopefully.”

“So that’s the play,” Natasha states as Phil whips out his cell, causing another spike in anxiety to roll through you, but Bucky and Steve both quickly whisk it away with their touch.

“Yes, sir,” Phil states evenly. “We may have located the kidnapped parties. I request a team to subtly clear and surround Central Park. Yes, sir.” His right eyelid gives one lone twitch. “Yes, all Avengers to the Park. We are dealing with Seelie Court involved matters. Yes, she is here and will be leading us to the kidnapped hostages. Affirmative. Will do, sir.” He hangs up to find everyone staring at him. “Tony will be bringing everyone’s gear and then we’ll head to Central Park. If you have any requests or needs, please bother Stark. I have a whole ops to coordinate.” A black suv pulls up behind him, which no one even flinches at. “I’ll meet you all in an hour. Stark will know the location.”

“Onward to probable death!” Pietro mutters with fake enthusiasm and you frown at him, Cerberus moving closer to you until his arm is brushing. The scent of sage, juniper and lemon - overlapped with the scent of coffee, cinnamon, cedar and a soft ocean breeze, things distinctly Bucky to you, even the scent of orange faintly coming from Steve - do nothing to help the pit in your belly.

How true, you muse morbidly, glancing up into sad honey brown eyes. You can both catch the faint, trace smell of death.

And you both know it’s from you.

-----*****-----*****-----

Tony had brought you several SHIELD jumpsuits in various colors: gray, blue and black, smirking as you had raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, little hellhound. They’ll all form to fit you. Bucky and Peter mentioned swords, so I brought some thigh holsters as well as a back holster, since I didn’t know the length of your swords. Natasha has extra guns aboard the jet if you are into that. Also, we don’t have time for you two to be frisky, so -”

“Shut up, Tony,” Bucky had growled from behind him, just making Tony smile wider. Seeing Bucky in his hero suit was a whole different sexy than last night and this morning. Well, you now understood why Tony was having concerns about you two because - dear gods did you want Bucky to bend you over something and take you with that suit on. You’d be equally happy to just drop to your knees and thank your mate for this look. Bucky obviously can see and sense the changes as you are basically drooling and clenching your thighs, while having an iron grip on the dark blue suit you had been favoring.

“Remember!” Tony says loudly while shaking a finger at you before Steve comes up beside Bucky and herds the grinning man from the room where you’re surrounded by suits and weapons.

“Eyes are glowing again, doll,” Bucky purrs as he comes to a halt before you.

“Can’t help it, it’s an emotional reaction most of the time,” You breath out, a smile playing on the corner of his lips at your answer. “Used to just do it when I was extremely pissed off. Now apparently it decides to pop up whenever I’m -”

“Horny?”

“Focusing. On. My. Mate.” You insist as he rumbles out a laugh, bending forward to kiss your forehead sweetly. You tilt your head up to catch his eye again, giving him a small smile as you reach out to take his flesh hand. “But just FYI, I can smell you’re horny too. And them pants is tiiight.” He captures your lips in a searing kiss, pulling you so tight against his chest that the buckles dig into you a little, just making you all the more riled up.

“Mate,” Bucky’s voice is part plea and warning in it’s roughness after you two pull apart, you nosing along his throat, kissing the skin where your mark should adorn.

“You could leave to let me get dressed…?”

“Where the hell is the fun in that, doll? Huh?” Both of you are chuckling, touching each other as much as possible but struggling to keep it PG.

“Bucky, I know you don’t want to bring this up…”

“Don’t.”

“But this could be it, ya know? So I need you to sort of brace yourself if it does.” His back is now ramrod straight and his jaw clenched tight, but holding your gaze.

“I won’t let it happen.” The determination from your first meeting is back, but you can only muster the softest look in reply, letting the suit fall to the ground as you cup his face with both hands.

“Sweetheart,” You coo gently, watching the sadness dance in his eyes that he’s trying hard to hide. “I adore you. I trust you inexplicably. I would happily spend the rest of my life with you. To mate you, to marry you...to have a little baby that looks just like you, that’s all I want. You deserve some peace and so. much. love.” His hands are gripping tight onto your waist, you can feel the fingertips digging in as you continue. “But you know I’m marked for death, Bucky. They’ve tried most of my life to circumvent it, stop it, undo it. But death comes for me regardless. I need you to not pull away from everyone if that happens. You’ll need them. Please.”

“I don’t - I don’t want to deal with that. I can’t. I can’t lose you too. I said I would protect you and keep you safe. I’m no Alpha if I don’t try. I’m no mate if I don’t try.” You’re at a standstill, both now in emotional turmoil over this topic, trying not to let it bleed into the other. He presses his forehead against yours hard, staring into each other’s eyes. “I love you,” He whispers and it’s all you ever wanted to hear. Right now, you had all wanted right here - a wonderful mate who loved you and would try to move heaven and earth for you, who didn’t care what you were. One of the most beautiful men in the whole world who looked at you like the sun rose and set by your whim. The whole thing was unfathomable.

“I love you, Bucky,” You breathe out in reply, longing for any other outcome but the one you know is coming. “And I will love you as long as you live.” Bucky makes a noise in the back of his throat, a couple tears sliding down his cheeks as yours begin to fall freely, letting him wrap his arms so securely around you as his beautiful blue jacket absorbs your quiet sobs.

-----*****-----*****-----

The sun is nearly set, the sky streaked a hundred hues of dark pink and red as New York slowly descends into darkness.

Bucky is standing right beside you, outfit bringing out his eyes as he surveys the scene stoically. You’d chosen the dark blue jumpsuit to match his, arms brushing subtly as you stand just outside the magic lines - and sight lines from the sithen - of Central Park.

Although you can’t see them, you can vaguely sense the score of SHIELD agents and Avengers scattered on the edges of the treelines. But you can ‘see’ the edge of the piece of sithen just shy of the Azalea Pond at the center of the Ramble. Bucky had been the one with his tablet naming things off to you - you had only moved to New York two years ago after all - trying to help you narrow down areas where it could have been. You wish you had had the time for him to show you around New York, around Brooklyn, and places that still stood from when he was younger.

Cerberus is on the other side of the pond, should the cloaked figure try to escape, swathed in the grip of Underworld magic to keep him invisible and thus much more easy to herd or pounce.

Wanda is piggybacking off your abilities, twined with yours temporarily so she could sense the heartbeats of the victims now that you had a location. Sam is in the trees to the left of the pond with Peter, Steve and Tony on the right while Clint, Natasha and Pietro cut off any other possible exit points. Bruce is staying by the ambulances, ready to Hulk out should the need arise, although you could tell from his face he was radiating the bright hope it absolutely would not.

Any way the cloaked figure ran, he’d be funneled where the Avengers chose. There would be no escape. As a failsafe, Pietro would be the only one to engage with him except you, since he would be the most able to take him on with the fae speed.

You drag yourself back to reality, turning to gaze over at Bucky and steeling yourself with one last deep breath before starting down the short path to the Azalea Pond.

“Be safe for me, doll,” Bucky says softly, almost as soft as the small breeze suddenly around you two. You manage to nod, throat closing up again. The fair folk do not lie. It had been beaten into you, quite literally, when you were little at court. You want nothing more than to lie to Bucky in that moment. To reassure him you will be safe for him. But the fair folk do not lie.

Good thing you are not solely fair folk. You reach for his hand, grasping just his flesh fingertips in your grip and squeezing them hard. It’s a millisecond in time, but it seems like one of those Lord of the Rings moments that are in that slow, dramatic, longing-filled motion. “I’ll do my best, handsome.” Dropping his hand before you lose your resolve, you take the barely visible path towards the pond. Your magic is swirling with Wanda’s, your senses all in overdrive - so much so you can’t even register the smell of the flowers blooming along the landmark.

Pursing your lips, you whistle a simple five note tune that fae had used for time beyond memory.

From behind you comes that deep, craggly voice, “Greetings, highness.”

“Greetings, servant,” He gives a little hiss at the title you bestow. “SHIELD has sent me to inform you that if you cooperate, you will not be sentenced to death.”

“They are mostly human. I do not fear the humans.”

“You are not wise to not fear them,” You give a pregnant pause, making sure you give that haughty look the court loves to disperse. “If you do not accept this offer, I am to inform you that I, Princess Duchess Propolos Hekatos, will be judge, jury and - if need be - executioner.” He pushes back his cloak hood back, allowing you to finally see his scaled face. He was probably one of very few left over of those lizard scaled dwarves who stayed closer to the caverns around lakes and seas when humans first emerged as semi-civilized, with beautiful almost translucent rainbow sheened scales around his eyes and cheeks, his mouth set in a thin line with no lips.

“I was damned from the get go, princess.”

“We are only as we choose to be - it doesn’t have to be that way,” You insist, leaning a little forward, softening your eyes. Even if you disliked court life, the snobs of court who’s magic had begun to dwindle long before you were born, and how you were treated there - he was the same as you; a discarded fae. He doesn’t reply, though there is a flicker of something in his eyes, simply just unsheathes his double swords and gestures to you with his chin.

“Prepare, half breed,” Although his insult has less venom than the alley last night, you huff out a sigh at his tone. Like he’s just going through the motions. Asshat.

You shift your feet just so, straightening your spine as you wait for his move. Physically you are in that moment, but your power shifts the sithen opening to the side where Steve and Tony are waiting, causing the cloaked man to hiss, baring slightly sharpened front teeth at you. “Little bitch!” And his steel meets yours. “We will both die for this!” He snarls as he tries to drive you back towards the trees and brush opposite the pond, you holding the line as you wait for Wanda to signal you that the people had been recovered.

“I’ll deal with them when the time comes,” You growl low, blocking his blades yet again with a heavy clink, shifting just so that you can reach for Bucky’s favorite knife at the small of your back, tinged with the poison that your cloaked friend had been favoring and stabbing it into his side and piercing his lung with a squelch.

“The poison will do nothing to me,” He spits at you as you twirl your wrist to disarm him of one of the swords and slide Bucky’s knife back into its sheath.

“It will now. Dr Banner mixed it with another, a heavy iron involved one - infused with belladonna - to make you human slow,” You lean in as you block another wide swing from him with the one sword left, smiling wide. “And heal human slow.” The whole of Central Park shakes as you show your hand.

“No! NO!” He screams and hisses, attempting to swing his meaty fists at you now that he was without a weapon.

“I am still my grandmother’s first born grandchild. I am still the High Prince’s first born. I am a Princess of the Seelie High Court.” You lean in as your tone becomes more malicious with each word, watching true fear alight in his mossy green eyes. “And with all the inbreeding and decline for the last century,” You straighten up, your blue flames engulfing you as he attempts to scurry away from you, shielding his eyes against the light you emanate as he falls on his ass in the dense brush and dirt. “Let’s face it - I am probably the most powerful fae aside from the Queen of the Seelie and the King of the Unseelie.” Leaning down, fisting your hand in his cloak, you yank him back upright, snarling as your power dances behind your eyes, careful still to at least to not burn him with your flames. But watching him flinch at the heat, the basic fear all animals have towards a large flame, sets you more alight at the taste of that fear. “And absolutely the wrong person to piss off!”

“Spare me! Please!!” He screams, more high pitched than you had imagined, nearly making you wince as you see the red sparks above the tree line and see a blue clad shadow moving along the treeline coming closer to you. Pietro blurs past you, slapping old iron cuffs on the cloaked man, which sends him quite literally howling and screeching from the burn of the metal.

Your flames give off a few large flickers before they begin to die down when Pietro says that they’ve gotten the kidnapped people to the ambulance they had on stand by, Bucky coming down the path towards you with a small smile on his lips as your eyes meet. Your magic shrinks back towards you, the weight of all the magic and your now overworked abilities settling back into you, your shoulders sagging a little with relief. It wasn’t over, but once your grandmother learned about your father and half-brother then she would be the one to end it.

The look in his cobalt eyes shift quickly, widening and moving to glare directly over your shoulder, his mouth moving in slow motion as he begins to barrel towards you, you begin to turn - only to feel the jerk of your body going forward instead. A glance downward shows a shiny red tip of one of the cloaked man’s swords protruding from just under your breasts, when you hear the mournful howl echo in and around your ears - only to realize it’s three distinct howls. The tang of blood spills into your mouth in a surprised gasp, turning slightly to see who has murdered you.

Your half brother’s hand is shaking slightly as he backs away from you, surprise written on both your faces as the scent of death finally fully fills your nose.

“I never thought -” You wheeze out, taking a few shaky steps towards your half-sibling as Bucky slides to a stop before you, his boots kicking up the fallen green leaves on the grass, both hands grasping your hips firmly as his eyes wander all over your body and face, tears already tracking down his cheeks. “You would have the balls!” You finish with another wheeze, the metallic taste much stronger now.

Bucky turns you to face him as Tony and Peter keep your half-brother from escaping, the darkening greenery of the world around you narrowing down to just Bucky. It’s a beautiful world to be relegated to actually.

“No. NO. Come on, doll. You - you gotta stay with me.” His voice is raw sounding, like he’s trying to not be loud, his metal hand putting pressure on the front wound as if it would help. His forehead is shoved against yours, your entire gaze narrowed to his blue eyes and his damp cheeks as he pulls you into his lap, collapsing the both of you to the ground. It’s funny almost to you in the moment...like you can still hear his loud, pitiful howl like a haunting melody behind everything he’s saying. “Doll, you gotta...come on, gotta fight. I need you to fight. Cerberus, he - he went to get Hades and Hecate. They’ll fix it. Just hold on til they get here, okay?”

“I love you soo much, James Buchanan Barnes,” You’re heartbroken to watch him see your bloody bottom lip tremble, and the color seeping from your face. You can see him weighing all his options through his tears, trying to move your tired hand up to touch him, to comfort him.

“I love you too, babydoll, but please God, please … just stay with me.” The choked up sound of his voice makes you want to cry for causing him this pain. No amount of forewarning could have prepared you for this feeling - the feeling of slowly breaking and killing your mate.

“Mate,” is the last thing you manage to get out before you just go limp in his arms, those jewel eyes he loves so much already just staring up at the first stars twinkling in the sky unseeing. In the back of his mind, his vampire side offers up the idea which he swore to God he would never do. But all too late.

The howl that rips from his throat is pure misery and heartache, his body bowed over his mate’s, his grip still holding her in a vice. The blood cloys her scent, furthering his heartbreak.

He looks up, needing Steve on a near visceral level, only to not see anyone at all. Confusion slightly mars his grief, looking over his shoulder and all around the darkened area, but met with no familiar faces or words in his comms. Confusion gives way to his war training, the alertness on it’s highest notch as he scans around, sniffing delicately at the air as the world seems much darker now than it had just been. When he turns back towards the pond, on edge at the very tampered down scents surrounding him, he spots three almost identical women standing there with those dark pink azaleas framing behind them almost like a fresco - just appearing as if from nowhere like Hades had earlier on the street.

“James Barnes,” The one on the left begins, long dark brown hair falling freely to her waist. “We are sorry for your loss,” the one on the right continues, her hair half up in intricate braids. “But now that we have fulfilled our ill-spoken creed,” the middle speaks, all that dark mahogany hair piled atop her hair like a crown, before they all join hands as the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand to attention at the sudden surge of power that surrounds him, his arms tensing as a wave of azalea scent blows around the two of them, bringing Duchess as close to him as possible again. “We will return our little cousin back to you.”

His mouth goes dry, forehead wrinkled in not understanding as he looks down at his mate, her eyes still open and her skin still dampened with that death pallor. Bucky gently uses his metal digits to close her eyelids, grief and nausea rolling through him simultaneously while the ground beside Bucky gives a small shake and splits open, Hades climbing so elegantly and easily from the ground below with Cerberus - in three-headed giant black dog form - with a wispy blue thing dangling from the middle head’s mouth. There isn’t even enough room left in him to be shocked, there is just acceptance of whatever this shit show was.

“Turns out, sometimes you just have to accept Fate and go through it in order to stop it,” Hades murmurs in his deep molasses voice, bending down just so, his long fingers gripping the back of Bucky’s neck loosely. “Will you accept your fate now, Bucky?”

“I’ll do anything for her,” Bucky rasps out with conviction shining in his tear-riddled eyes.

“Splendid,” Hades motions with his free hand for Cerberus to come forward. “You must take a mouthful of this first.” He orders sternly as a beautiful blonde woman, shorter than Duchess and with a more heavy hourglass shape, emerges from the crevice to the Underworld with a black and golden chalice. Bucky marvels at the tiny wild roses popping up in her wake as she walks around Cerberus to stand between himself and Hades. She sniffles as she looks at Duchess, one hand leaving the chalice as she frowns over at the Fates before brushing two fingers down his left cheek to his chin, the warmth from just her fingers seeping quickly into his icy feeling skin. He doesn’t even notice the Fates disappearing just after that, he’s so focused on the goddess before him.

“Remove the sword, Hades.” It’s gone with a wave at the woman’s order, Bucky unconsciously tightening his hold once again on his mate. “Now, Bucky, sweet little honeysuckle boy, take a mouthful of this - but don’t swallow.” She brings the cup to his lips and tips it up. “Now, when Cerberus drops her soul back into her body, kiss her and push all the ambrosia into her mouth. It’ll take a few seconds for her soul to readjust and the ambrosia to heal her before she comes back to consciousness, okay honeysuckle?” Bucky manages a jerky nod, rewarded with a pat to his cheek before she backs up towards Hades, Cerberus giving a huff as he leans down towards Duchess’s body.

“Three. Two. One.” Hades counts down, Cerberus’s light brown eyes locked onto Bucky’s before the middle head gently opens it’s very large jaw and the blue wisp floats down to her body. “Now.” Bucky smashes his lips against hers, feeding the liquid into her mouth with an edge of desperation barely restrained within him.

“Now we wa-” A gasp startles you all, her jewel-toned eyes blinking rapidly as her hands claw at Bucky’s waist where they’re trapped between them, until they’re focused on Bucky. Bucky lets loose a sob as she smiles up at him, blood now gone from her face.

“Hi handsome,” A tiny little cough to clear her throat. “Bucky,” Duchess manages to rasp out before she’s crushed to Bucky’s chest.

“I lost you,” Bucky half gasps/half sobs into her hair, the scent of blood seemingly long gone, a terrible dream from which he can now finally awaken...it was just her again. Just his mate.

“But you found me, handsome.”

Bucky manages to get out a soft chuckle as he pulls back to cup her face in his hands. “You do anything like that again, doll, and I swear I’ll -” She cuts him off with a kiss but he doesn’t miss the smile and silent eyeroll. When they break apart, she brings her hand up to cup his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone repeatedly as Bucky just reveals in the warmth of her fingers and palms against his skin.

“You are mine,” She whispers so damn gently, like a breath of life gently fanning over his lips as her forehead bumps against his softly. Bucky understood this was her sign that everything was alright, that closeness of foreheads pressed together and reading every emotion in each other's eyes.

“And you are mine,” Bucky affirms, electricity buzzing down his spine before he smiles wide at his mate, happy to see her own smile widen as he does so. “You’re stuck with me for forever now.” She tries to feign a disappointed look and tone, to school her eyes and keep her lips from twitching up in a grin is poorly executed.

“Oh, no. What a terrible thing, Sarge,” It comes out more as a purr, lighting a warmth and fire from within Bucky, elation now bleeding as a scent out of him at this tiny but monumental moment with his mate. A deep voice clearing his throat behind you brings you both a bit back more to the present, Bucky glancing to the left as your smile stays gracing your gorgeous face.

“Welcome back!” The goddess burst out, tears opening flowing down her lovely and soft olive oval face, falling to her knees behind Duchess and throwing her arms around her shoulders, squeezing her fiercely. She even pulls Bucky closer, smoothing a hand up and down his back as she hugs both of them just this side of painful.

“Thank you, theía.” Duchess grunts out from the tight sandwich she’s in, looking over to her uncle. “Theíos, what happened to that little motherfucker?”

Hades stern looking face breaks out in a tiny smile, looking so kindly down at the scene before him as Cerberus’s three heads lap and nuzzle at the three on ground. “He’s still being held on the other plane. And speaking of which, we should return quickly. Hecate might actually kill him and start a bigger conflict than which we already have on our hands.”

“Well that answers some of my questions,” Bucky mutters just behind her right ear, nipping at the earlobe gently as Persephone releases you all, gently wiping away her tears.

“I’ll fill you in as best I can later. After someone fills me in, that is,” Duchess promises with a quick but warm kiss to his lips. Hades helps his wife up, kissing both of her palms and exchanging a long, loving look before extending his hand for Duchess, Bucky shooting up beside her as they each have a hand hold on her and help to steady her as she sways just a touch.

“Much later,” Bucky agrees with the barest hint of a nod, just needing to soothe his mate still. Frankly, just needing to reconnect and optimally be alone with his mate. Hopefully uninterrupted for at least two weeks, a month - two months would be absolutely dreamy and very, very far fetched with all the shit they’ll have to deal with afterwards regarding this case. But Bucky would move whole cities to make good on what she’d said to him aboard the jet too. Finally get him some of that apple pie life that he, Steve and the Commandos had talked about all those years and years ago.

He watches as you roll your neck, gently pushing away one of Cerby’s heads to shake both your arms out before reaching up to finally scratch at each of Cerberus’s heads one by one, kissing at their muzzles with gusto as the giant hellhound wiggles it’s butt with abandon. “I didn’t get that warm of a welcome,” Bucky remarks with a smirk, his mouth breaking into a wider smile at the look she shoots him.

“Because that is something personal you’ll get later on, Sarge,”

“Geallaidhean, an dannsair beag agam,” Bucky growls softly, making sure to seal it with a deep, hard kiss. Promises, my little dancer. She looks a little flustered when they break apart, eyes not as focused as before. He knows she can smell the very pleased scent rolling off of him at her reaction.

“Such an Alpha,” She mutters with a teasing eye roll, keeping her hand on his chest. “You wear that jacket and you can have whatever you like,” comes the whisper against his lips, a soft growl punctuating the end before he takes another kiss. “Okay. Okay. Now, let’s go shank the little fairy prince,” Baring your teeth is more cute to Bucky than terrifying initially, but knowing what you’re capable of does make it scarier. And sexier, he wasn’t going to lie to himself. He loves that his mate is that intimidating.

And quite honestly, what will be more scary to the little prince than someone he feared and loathed coming back after watching them die? What's more, coming back for their retribution on him from the other side. Bucky can bet anyone that it’s not a hell of a lot actually.

“Brace yourself for it,” She whispers, hand wrapping tight around his metal one. Bucky feels a tug at his navel as the whole world around him seems to lighten at least ten shades, the overwhelming scent of blood returning, along with the pond waters, and Steve suddenly all fill his nose at once, Steve’s hands suddenly wrapping just this side of painful on his upper arms.

The scent of confusion and awe fill the area around them like a sudden breeze, the fair folk Prince calling for the God and Goddess to protect him in a whisper which might as well be a shout in the eerily quiet park. It seemed like even the regular wildlife noises in the Park had shown restraint, watching the otherworldly conflict in reverence.

“Did you miss me, brother?” No one on the other side of Manhattan could mistake the venom in her voice for anything other than deadly.

“You don’t understand!” The man - if you could call him that, no one in Central Park would though - shouts defiantly with a slice of whining at the end, his pupils blown as his eyes dart around the small clearing with barely restrained panic, nearly everywhere but on Duchess.

“Spare me your bullshit, Bradye,” Duchess growls, the lights beginning to dance behind her eyes as she moves closer to him, leaving her mate behind her. She smiles a bit triumphantly, maliciously. “You have come into this realm and by doing so are now subject to its rules and punishments. That useless title you hold will do you no good.” A few tsks come from her, “For you will face a death punishment either way. Hecate has requested the Queen come here and you and our father will pay for, let’s see, eight deaths and three kidnappings.”

“The fair folk do not lie,” He reminds in a taunt, thinking he’s won something. Her dangerous smile makes his millisecond of gloating worthless.

“Oh, of that I am well aware. I was schooled in that rule with leather. And steel. And sharp blows...and I think it may have slipped your mind, but I DID die. Charon saw me waiting upon the shore of the River Styxx. And he cannot lie about the souls he sees and ferries. Is the shaking of your hand as you drove your servant’s blade into my chest so quickly forgotten? Don’t worry,” Flames begin to gather around her ankles, slowly creeping upward like a nonsensical dance. “I have worked with SHIELD to document all you and our father have done. Did you know that there are some cameras opposite where your servant was seen entering and exiting? And that it has files that date back to before the first murder? Where you can make out two male figures walking into the park and it has a slight shake to it? Almost like an earthquake...or perhaps even a sithen moving…” The color drains from his already pasty face as Duchess strides closer, the blue and white flames now licking up her hips and lower back. There is a slight odor of urine, making Steve and Bucky both wrinkle their noses as Tony takes a small step away from him.

It’s a power move, not just the ever shifting flames but Bucky can clearly spot how sharp her teeth have grown, how her midnight blue fingernails are now black pointed tips. She’s allowing her fae side out as well, those multicolored lights bobbing and dancing behind her irises as each step she takes results in tiny little faerie rings, the tiny flowers blooming in the colors of the pinks, greens, and light blues that dance behind her eyes as small little beings descend from the trees and pixie-looking fae flit from the flowers around the Azalea Pond.

“You have no proof,” The haughtiness returns, looking down at Duchess, and had his voice not shook, might have pulled it off. He also eyes the fae joining the group in the clearing around the pond, his eyes catching sight of the faerie rings behind her and the shock that shows in his eyes is nearly equal to watching her appear back on this plane - alive.

“You hear that, Grandmother? Everything I asked Hecate’s handmaidens to give you is not proof.”

Bucky will remember that look forever. The snapping up of his head so fast it looked like it hurt, the look of complete and utter stunned surprise that seems to echo through and around him and actually make a tremor run through the little slimeball as Fury, Coulson and a lovely looking older woman with hair that went from silver at the top of her head and slowly gained a darker red as it came to rest at her waist came behind him into the clearing.

“I have heard all in this park. I have watched your hand slay your sister.” There is a flash of fury in her eyes, which Bucky notices are mismatched. One green as freshly mowed grass and the other a dark pine bark brown. “And had she not been preoccupied with keeping everyone in this park safe, sealing the sithen closed, and focused on her mate, you wouldn’t have stood a chance, you preposterous, moronic, useless child!” Her voice raises but her face never changes from an indifferent look that Bucky had seen Queen Elizabeth sport more than a few times on tv. “You and your father will be punished to the fullest extent of this plane’s laws. Before that you both will be brought before both courts of Fae and stripped of all your titles, rights, magic -” She looks down her nose at him with a sniff of disdain, “This applies more to your father as he actually has abilities. And you will also be made to pay for restitution to the families of those you had killed and of course those three whom you stole magic from and tortured. By our laws and the old ways, your sister has death rights on all three of you involved. And I must say, if I was her, I would drag your punishments out slowly...meticulously...painfully.”

Duchess strides back over to Bucky, hands already reaching out for him as the fire dies down around her - not as consuming, but still a bright warmth that shadows her entirety. Wrapped safely in his arms, Bucky rests his chin on the top of her head as Steve gently brushes his hand up and down her arm a few times, just reassuring her of their pack bond before taking a small step back to let them bond more. She pulls back a little from the comfort of his arms, tilting her head back to look up at him, Bucky knowing exactly what she wants. This was all very familiar to what happened just before she died...and honestly they all need that reassurance that everything is okay still. And this is the simplest and best way he can do it now; Her lips are soft and easily molded to his own. His sensitive ears can still pick up the little chirps and flitter sounds of small wings of the tiny fae that had climbed into this plane at Duchess’s silent command, gathered closer to her than her Grandmother, waiting for something else it seems.

A sharp featured man dressed in a black suit jacket with heavy, shining gold threaded designs along the wrists, collar, and lapels comes into the clearing with two men trailing behind him dragging a third between them.

The tiny beings begin a high pitched whine as the dragged man is thrown at the Faerie Queen’s feet. The man in black eyeing the tiny creatures with an unreadable something in his eyes.

Bucky is shocked at how much Duchess shares her face shape and nose with her father. Everything else must have come from her mother, making her features softer. Her eye color - she had told him last night - had come from her mother’s father, her mother’s side also responsible for her more soft Greek eye shape and supple body as well. Her father’s face however is harsher, more weathered looking than even his mother’s face. His eyes are a muddy brown and he looks to be maybe an inch or so taller than Duchess herself, unusual for a male - and even most women - of high Fae blood to be that short and not claim Brownie or Goblin blood, both of which a high Fae would absolutely loathe to admit to tainting their line. Him and his son seem to have been the tailings of a long and powerful bloodline, while Duchess was an anomaly of both sides of her family tree which was probably why she was so powerful. She was seemingly that red-headed gene in a sea of black hair which came about once every few generations.

Steve moves closer to the two of them again as the Queen looks down at her son with even more disgust than her grandson, which Bucky would not have thought possible a second ago. The sharp featured man comes to stand before Duchess and gives a deep nod, the two men behind him taking a knee as they come to a stop, the High Prince of the Seelie Court and his son watching from behind the Queen with shock and anger mixed on both their faces.

“Your highness, we at the Unseelie Court are thankful to you as it was a forgotten part of our court that was taken.” His bright green eyes look almost hesitant for his next words. “We are indebted to you for clearing this up. And also for clearing our court of involvement. The Unseelie Court is indebted to you, Princess Duchess Propolos Hekatos.”

Duchess pulls away a little from Bucky and Steve to sink into a deep curtsy, “Thank you, King Odhran. May your debt be cleared swiftly.” The two men behind him rise and they all go over to the Seelie Queen as Duchess’s flames die down further, pulsing softly in time with soft flutters and swayings of the tiny fae that have moved closer still.

“I will be seeing you later for their merited punishments, cousin,” The man says indifferently while also containing a hint of malice.

“Good evening until then, Odhran.” He and his men disappear as the Queen waves her hand to the men and women holding the prisoners formerly known as her family. “Fury. Coulson. We will be off now. They will be put into your custody in a week’s time. My granddaughter will, of course, be there for the handoff as a representative of the good will of my court.” Bucky doesn’t like that she’s ordering Duchess, fighting to suppress a growl. Does she not know he has plans for his mate?? She turns to address said granddaughter. “You will attend this handoff as a Princess of the Seelie Court. Come see me the morning before the handoff, as we have things we need to discuss. Please thank your goddess, Hecate, again for her swift actions and Hades for his too.” Duchess sinks into that deep curtsy once again before nodding at the trees and pond, the tiny creatures melting back into the waters and darkening branches like shadows, her Grandmother watching with something close to fondness on her face as the guards and prisoners disappear first, then her elegant frame takes a few steps and is gone as fast and quietly as the others.

Fury holds his hand straight up in the air after they vanish, no one making a move, just light breathing as everyone glances around the clearing, looking at Duchess and then Coulson who both give a firm nod before he lowers his hand and clears his throat. Fury’s good eye looks tired as fuck to Bucky.

“Alright people, shit shows over. Wanda, please begin magically cleansing this spot with Pietro, I want to be out of here in under an hour. Coulson, get me updates and signed paperwork from the three rescued for prosecution. Tony and Vision, keep the area contained until after the cleansing. SHIELD agents, please collect photos and evidence before the cleansing. Originals we keep, copies to the NYPD. Falcon and Spidey, back on patrols for the next few hours. Barnes and Rogers, take the lady home. I think she’s done and had enough for tonight. Everyone else, find something to do to make this go as fast as goddamn possible.”

“Roger, roger!” Bucky and Steve call out, Bucky tossing his flesh arm over her shoulder, Steve on his left side as they all wave silently to their friends and begin their way out of Central Park.

“This is one of the most terrible evenings of my life,” Steve mutters as Hades, Cerberus - in his human form - and a third figure, who Bucky can scent and see is definitely not the extra curvy Persephone, wave from further up the treeline ahead of them. “And I was just on the edge of the whole thing - witness and secondary pack feelings between you two. I might need a cigarette.” Steve mutters as he runs one hand through his hair and then down his face after taking a deep breath and letting it out.

“You haven’t smoked since 1938,” Bucky remarks with an eyeroll. “And that was before we knew it was bad for you, punk.”

“And this was one of the most terrible evenings of your life so far!” Steve turns his light blue eyes towards her with his Captain America signature disapproving glare at her overly perky tone. “The Seelie Queen says thank you. In that special fair folk way,” Duchess lays on the happy sarcastic tone as they approach the trio.

“As if I give a single fuck,” The woman’s dark voice growls out, her full lips set in a frown at the news. “How do you feel, mikrí mou skoteiní?”

“I told you, your little dark one is fine,” Hades reiterates with an eyeroll.

“I feel wonderful now, eroméni.” Duchess squeezes Bucky’s hand before ducking under his arm and pressing her forehead against Hecate’s as they intertwine both their hands, the power swirling softly around the two of them.

Bucky can feel the comfort in the darkness and mist that surround them temporarily, the two pulling apart and grinning at each other more like sisters or best friends than what they were.

“Mistress, this is my Bucky,” She stretches her hand out to him, Bucky forever heeding her siren call as he slips his hand into hers. “And that is our Steve Rogers.”

“I am honored to be in your company, gentleman. My mikrí mou skoteiní needs more family. I am glad she has found not only her mate, but a pack.” Her face shifts minutely from ecstatic to a little teasing. “One that will surely grow soon?”

“My baby doesn’t need to be having babies just yet!” Cerberus says in his deep honeyed voice, the slight echo noticeable now.

“My ma raised me right, ma’am. I got to mate and marry her before we go that path. My girl hasn’t even been to Coney Island.”

“Psssh. You haven’t been to Disneyland.”

“I was starting with Brookyln and Coney Island, doll.”

“Whatever you say, handsome,” She sighs out with a smile as Hades chuckles.

“And so it begins, Bucky.” Bucky grins down at his mate.

“I can’t wait.”

“Cheeseballs...the both of you,” Steve laughs out as Hades pulls Duchess into a hug, kissing her forehead before pulling away.

“Bring the boy down in a few days for brunch. Persephone will be elated, well more elated, to see you mated and bonded. Steve is welcome as well. You know how we love certain companies in the Underworld.”

“I shall bring the handmaidens as well. Perhaps we can get Mr. Rogers a mate as well,” Hecate teases again as Steve’s ears and neck turn bright red.

“We’ll call to check in tomorrow,” Hades continues, hand stuck out to Bucky who shakes it more firmly than last time which makes the God of the Underworld’s smile widen. “Gentlemen.” He extends his hand to Steve, giving him his own hard handshake before stepping back for Cerberus to enthusiastically hug all three of them.

“I love new pack members!” His echo-y deep timber reveals his obvious happiness, Hecate eye rolling good-naturedly beside him.

“I’ll text you later,” a smirk is painted on her full lips as she stares at Duchess. “But I understand if you are busy.”

“Goodnight Hecate!” comes Duchess’s embarrassed reaction, Bucky wrapping his metal arm around her waist and winking at Hecate. “Stop that!” She swats at Bucky’s chest playfully, just for him to catch it and kiss her fingertips.

“Let’s head home, doll.” Her eyes brighten instantly.

“Ooooh! I’ve never been to Stark Tower!” She states as Steve full belly laughs.

“He meant your bar or our shared apartment in Brooklyn.”

“But I’ll take you to the Tower in a few days,” Bucky promises with a kiss to her open palm as her temporary puppy dog eyes brighten.

“Goodnight all,” Hecate and Hades state simultaneously as Cerberus gives Duchess one last kiss to her cheek before rubbing his own cheek against it.

“Goodnight!” Steve, Bucky and Duchess chime in reply, watching the gods and guardian take a handful of steps before disappearing further up the path to the right, Bucky leading his pack down the left path towards 74th Street.

“So, whatcha up to later, Sargent?” Duchess begins as they enter the area just before the Boathouse Restaurant, squinting just a bit at the brightness.

“Well, I got this mate who smells like fresh baked bread, lemon squares, cayenne, and a little hint of mint - who is in dire need of a mating mark and bond. And lots of baby making practice. Then I was thinking I take her for lunch at the Tower in a couple days to show her off.”

“Can you schedule an old school tour after the Tower lunch?”

“Of course, doll,” Bucky’s accent thickens a little as her eyes soften as she looks up at him. “I’ll even show you everywhere we got our asses kicked when we were young.”

“And by ‘ours’ he means mine after 1934,” Steve says from Bucky’s other side with a scoff, sending Duchess a wink as they get past the Alice in Wonderland bit and start on the path down towards the Model Boathouse.

“Whatever you guys wanna show me,” Duchess sighs out happily, leaning into Bucky and reaching around his back to take Steve’s hand. Steve squeezes back before kissing the back of her hand and releasing it, happy to have her in the pack.

“I’ll grab some stuff, but I’ll stay near - up in Natasha’s apartment a few floors up. Just let me know when it’s safe,” He chuckles out as a flustered look passes over her face. “Don’t worry, kid, it’s natural. Just lots of good luck to our furniture in the house with this Alpha.”

“Is Natasha’s floor far enough away, punk?”

“Well, I love my pack already,” Duchess murmurs as Bucky and Steve continue ribbing each other, watching the stars compete with the New York City lights as a few leaves rustle in the breeze and fall on the bright path ahead of them.

“Doll, as corny as it sounds, it’s amazing how I could try but I could never explain what I hear when you don't say a thing. Just your scent and hearing your heartbeat is a different kind of magic,” Bucky whispers against her hair before kissing her soft cheek, his metal fingers entwined with hers naturally.

“If every bit of magic was stripped from me tonight, I would be okay with it. Because the best magic I’ve ever received is you.”

Bless ya’ll for making it through my long ass rambling stories <3

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