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whimsyfinny · 3 months

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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: stalker/ unsuccessful kidnap, violence, depictions of blood and assault (let me know if I should add more)

Chapter Word Count: 2318

—-MDNI—-

A/N: Sooooo I’m sorry it’s not spicy like I said it would be… But I absolutely promise the next one will be! Chapters 5 and 6 were supposed to be just one chapter but it got too long so I had to split it… And again please let me know of any errors because this is only proof read by myself.

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Please Read the Below First:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

I’m Not You’re F*cking Maid

Chapter 5

After thorough interviewing of the staff and regular patrons; long searches through copious auction records and meticulous studying of the items in the shop we narrowed our search down to one item: an old jade hairpin. The hairpin belonged to a young lady who was given the gift as a wedding present, however when she found out on her wedding night that her new husband was having an affair, she stabbed him to death with it before jumping to her own demise from their third floor balcony. That was just over a century ago, and she was still wreaking havoc on unfaithful men to this day.

“I mean I get where she’s coming from,” I shrugged as we walked back to the motel. Both brothers turned to look at me with concern smeared over their features. “OBVIOUSLY I don’t agree with all the murder,” they breathed a sigh of relief, “but you can’t hate her for being mad. I would be too.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows a little and holding his hands up. I gave him a look of bewilderment.

“What side do you think you’re on, Dean? Because this,” I gestured between us, “isn’t my good side.” He mumbled something incoherent as we got to the motel so I chose to ignore him completely.

“So what’s the plan? It’s getting late and we can’t really do anything now until that charity event taking place at the auction house tomorrow. We’re already pretty clued up on how to get rid of ghosts so there’s really not much to do except to get both your names on that guest list,” Sam patted his laptop, looking at both of us.

“Food?” Dean and I said at the same time.

“Food sounds good,” Sam nodded. The boys turned around to leave when I stopped them.

“Just whilst we’re still at the motel, I’m just going to freshen up real quick.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “really?” I flipped him the bird.

“I can just meet you there? There’s like only one diner in this town and I know the way. I won’t be long.” The brothers looked at each other for a few seconds before Sam looked at me and smiled.

“Sure ok, we’ll get a seat in the window so we can see you coming.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon,” I grinned at the younger Winchester before turning away and letting myself into my room.

I had the worlds quickest shower and threw on some clean underwear and a clean top, feeling better after getting the grime from the day off. I pulled on my jeans, socks and boots, applied a small amount of eyeliner and mascara and tidied my hair the best I could before slinging on my jacket and applying some perfume to my wrists and neck. It was one of my favourite scents: I’d bought it from some lingerie store a year or so ago and it’s apparently one of those aphrodisiac perfumes, however I have no idea if it even works or not. It’s probably a scam, nothing works that well in real life.

After I’d finished sorting myself out - which took no longer than half an hour - I grabbed my phone and keys and left the room, locking up before making my way towards the diner. Night had descended, the air turning cold against my warm skin and the usually busy streets now lay deserted and car-free. It was only about a five minute walk or so from the motel and I was now only about a minute away when I noticed that I wasn’t alone. I’d caught a glimpse of a figure dressed from head to toe in black in the reflection of several shop windows, and they were following my exact trail. I sped up, walking faster down the empty main road and hoping it was all a coincidence as worst case scenarios started to race through my mind. It wasn’t long until the diner was in sight and I breathed a sigh of relief, however the relief was short lived when those footsteps were getting closer and closer, quicker and quicker right behind me. It dawned on me that this wasn’t a coincidence at all - I was definitely being stalked. I started to run, my legs moving before my brain had kicked into gear and I was only inches from the front door when the stranger caught up, slamming me against the wall of the building and putting a knife to my throat, covering my mouth with a gloved hand.

“Don’t make a fucking noise - you’re coming with me,” he said aggressively yet quietly. I could feel the blade of the knife pressing against the soft skin of my neck and I couldn’t help but feel tears well in my eyes, my breath turning shaky as my heart hammered in my chest. I couldn’t even get any words out as his hand was too tight over my lips.

I wanted to cry out for help so badly it hurt.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing that this was all a bad dream. My cheek was pushed into the rough brick which grazed my skin, and I silently prayed for my attacker to just let me go or for some hero to come and save me. At that very moment I heard the door to the diner and my eyes shot open, instantly connecting with Deans. I watched as surprise turned to horror which then turned to pure feral rage on his face and before I even had a chance to blink he was gone from my line of sight - but so was the pressure keeping me pinned against the wall. I spun around and I watched Dean throw the stalker to the floor with more force that I thought he could muster and tower over him. Dean didn’t say a word, but the stranger let out a sharp cry of pain as Dean instantly brought his boot down on his ribs. There was a CRACK. He did it again.

And again.

And then he got down and pinned my attacker flush against the tarmac before he brought a closed fist down on his face over and over and over again, cracking his jaw and breaking his nose. Dean didn’t stop until the man was totally unrecognisable and unresponsive. Standing up off of his limp body, he looked over to me, his furious, almost animalistic stare softening instantly, even through all the blood that now painted his face. He took one step towards me before my feet worked on their own and carried me straight to him. I put my arms out to reach for him and he grabbed my hands and pulled me into his chest with zero hesitation, his arms circling me and his blood-soaked palms gently stroking my hair. I sobbed. I sobbed from the fear I felt, I sobbed for feeling like such a victim and I sobbed for the relief I now felt flooding my veins as Dean held me, not saying a word. Listening to his heartbeat with my ear to his chest, I felt so safe and secure that it made me want to sob even more.

Dean ended up taking me straight back to my room - he called Sam to tell him what had happened as he wasn’t going to be returning to the diner. I had my second shower of the day as soon as we returned, wanting to scrub everywhere that horrible man had touched. Whilst I was washing, Dean had headed back to his own room to shower off the layer of blood coating his skin. After I was satisfactorily clean, I dried myself and dressed in that old T-shirt I wore the night before, pulling on some fresh underwear and perching on the end of the bed. I picked up the remote and started mindlessly flicking through channels, hoping to find something to distract my racing brain.

I’d been sitting in the same position for around ten minutes when there was a gentle knock on the door. I held my breath as I got up and walked over, looking through the peephole. It was Dean. I released that breath as I opened the door and let him in. He’d changed from his usual gruff attire to something way more comfortable - a plain white T-shirt and a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms. He smiled at me. A kind smile, nothing like those teasing and sly ones we’d been throwing at each other since yesterday. This one was genuine, and it made my chest feel warm. He locked the door behind him as I padded back over to the bed and climbed on it, sitting right in the centre with my legs crossed. I pulled the T-shirt down to cover my dignity as Dean placed a carrier bag in front of me. I peeked inside. It was full to the brim of all different types of snacks and I grinned up at him.

“You sure do know how to treat a girl, Winchester.”

He let out a soft laugh and looked down at the floor before taking residence beside me.

“You’re the first one who thinks so”.

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s a long line of women who definitely think otherwise,” he smiled a slightly sad smile. We both paused before I continued.

“Well if it means anything, what you did for me today, I-” he held a hand up to stop me as he saw the look of fear flit across my features again, the horrid memory bubbling to the surface.

“It was the least I could do,” he said softly before his brows furrowed, “but to be honest I should never have let you out of my sight.” The almost protective tone of his voice made my heart flutter a little, but It was my turn to reassure him as I placed my hand on his shoulder delicately.

“Dean, none of us knew that would happen. I know you wouldn’t have left me alone if you genuinely thought I was in danger - after all, you DID promise to keep me safe from my own shadow,” I flashed him a grin which he quickly returned, chuckling. We sat for a few moments in a strangely comfortable silence before there was another knock at the door. I went to get up to answer it but Dean beat me to it, swinging it open to show a very concerned Sam stood in the doorway. He looked at me with those big ever-worried eyes and I shot him my best ‘please don’t worry’ grin.

“I’m fine, Sam” I called out to him as I tried to listen in on the hushed words Dean was speaking. They conversed for a while, occasionally throwing glances at me as I rustled around in the bag of goodies Dean had supplied. Growing bored of not being involved with their conversation, I scooted back on the bed to lean back on the headboard and proceeded to flick through dozens of channels until I found something decent to watch. A few more minutes had passed and I’d munched my way through almost half a bag of Doritos when I heard the door close and it was just me and Dean again. He had a paper bag that Sam must’ve passed him, which he held up and pointed to.

“The blood stains came out of my clothes, although Sam said the people in the laundromat were giving him strange looks,” he laughed slightly, those striking eyes of his looking down into mine as he took a few steps closer. I laughed slightly, only imagining Sam’s awkwardness in that situation. I broke my gaze away from Dean for a few seconds, looking down at my hands before looking back up. I could tell he was hovering now, just waiting for me to say something.

“Dean I’m fine, you don’t have to stay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying for a bit longer if you need me to” his hand ran over the stubble on his chin, his eyes not leaving me.

“Really, I’m ok. I’m probably just going to sit here and watch whatever this is-”

“It’s obviously Men in Black,” Dean scoffed. I smiled, finding comfort in the familiar snarky remark.

“Obviously - I don’t live under a rock Dean,” I rolled my eyes as I stood up, placing my hands on his chest. He was so warm to the touch that it was almost enticing me not to let go. The gentle thrum of his heartbeat was so soothing. But I did let go, and I spun him around to start ushering him to the door. As he was leaving, I grabbed my half eaten bag of chips and started munching again. He opened the door, stepping outside.

“Go back to your room Dean. I promise I’m ok. I don’t want you both hovering over me constantly making sure I’m fine; that will just make me feel worse,” I said as he spun to face me, nodding his head.

“Back to normal. Got it.”

“Great,” I said, sucking the tangy chip dust from my thumb. Dean suddenly reached out and snatched the half-eaten bag from my hand before quickly walking away.

“I’ll see you in the morning!” He shouted back at me before shovelling food into his mouth.

“You ass! I was eating those!” He shrugged in an overly animated fashion, not bothering to turn and look at me as he continued towards his room. I sighed, closing the door and locking it, sliding the chain across this time too. I padded back towards the bed and climbed in, pulling the covers up to my chin. As I started to drift off, the buzz of the movie still playing in the background, I smiled a little to myself:

Fucking Winchester.

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Up Next:

Chapter 6

#dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #eventual smut #slow burn

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amongemeraldclouds · 2 months

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better than revenge | chapter six: twelve days of christmas

Summary: Flashback, spending your winter break with Mattheo Riddle.

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Warning: smut, 18+ minors dni, fluff. Smut is just short and not detailed given the format of this chapter so lower your expectations haha.

Author's note: If you read this as part two of chapter three and discard the rest, Mattheo will continue to be your boyfriend. No heartbreak.

I wanted to try writing in a different format where I can showcase how your relationship with Mattheo developed over the course of winter break in just one chapter. It was fun writing this!

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I just wish I could forget when it was magic.

Day 1: Brand new day

“Good morning sunshine,” Mattheo says in a sleepy voice. I blink, why is there a boy beside me in bed? Memories of last night return - of broken bones, healing spells, and snarky comments. “How do you feel?” I ask, noting the absence of yesterday’s cuts and scrapes. “Never been better,” he smiles, rising from bed. “To thank you, my kind savior, I must take you out for tea and biscuits. Or hot chocolate, if you prefer.” I narrow my eyes in distrust, “why are you being nice to me?” “We got off on the wrong foot yesterday,” he explains, “on account of all the bleeding. But today is a new day. Let’s start over?”

Day 2: Stargazing

“Riddle, you’ll be the death of me! You can’t just apparate me everywhere!” “I wanted to show you the view from the roof,” he says, laying down the blanket he brought along. I look around and gasp at the panoramic view of moonlit castles and bodies of water, flames flickering in the winter air. “It gets even better,” he smiles at my amazement, “look up.” I lay down beside him and marvel at the twinkling stars. He leans in, “if you stare long enough, you could pretend you’re floating among the stars.” I look at him then and at his quiet smile. He has no idea his eyes reflect the same beauty he tries to impress me with.

Day 3: Chocolate vices

“Do you want one?” He asks, offering me a cigarette. “No thanks, I actually like my lungs.” He snickers, “hey, it helps me relax.” “It’s okay, I’m not judging you.” “So no vices at all?” He asks, “alcohol, drugs, whatever?” “Nope, I don’t like feeling out of control. But does chocolate count? I have a notoriously sweet tooth.”

Day 4: Snow bombs

“Take this!” I say, hurling a ball of snow at Mattheo. It catches him square at his shoulder. “Oh you’re going to regret that,” he says, picking up a pile of snow. I run away but he manages to catch my leg. I duck behind a statue, gathering the next snowball.

Day 5: A quiet day

“This is all your fault,” he says, sniffling into the tissue. I sneeze in response. “We’ve already taken the potion, we’ll be fine by tomorrow.” I snuggle deeper into the blanket, fighting the fever chill in my bones. Mattheo tucks me in his arms. “Come here, we’ll keep each other warm.”

Day 6: Pillow thoughts

“Why do I keep waking in bed with you?” Mattheo asks. “Then stop sleeping beside me,” I wave him off, sleep clouding my mind. I don’t want to, he thinks.

Day 7: Cold hands, warm hearts

“Merry Christmas!” I beam brightly at Mattheo, placing a neatly wrapped present in his hand. “Um, it’s not yet Christmas?” He states, turning the package over in his hands. “Open it!” I urge. “It’s tradition with my mum to give presents early back when she was around. So you have more time to enjoy them.” “Um, thank you.” He tears the package open and wraps the emerald green scarf around him. “Nice and warm, did you make this?” I nod, “with magic!” I wave my wand around. “Do you like it?” He’s quiet for a few moments. “Yes! It’s just…it’s the first time I’ve received a Christmas present. The dark lord doesn’t really do Christmas, it’s why I’m here at winter break.” he waves his hands awkwardly. “We can make it a yearly tradition?” “I’d like that,” he smiles.

Day 8: For the love of eggs

She swore she would never fall in love. Not after seeing what it did to others. Love is all consuming, it takes everything and leaves you hollow when it’s gone. But sitting across him, eating eggs for breakfast, she didn’t think it would be so bad.

Day 9: Frigid hazards

He watched her skate across the pond, hair flying in the wind. She once said he would be the death of her. He thinks it’s the opposite.

Day 10: A flower blooms in winter

“Can I kiss you?” I ask Mattheo. His face lights up. “It would be my pleasure.”

Day 11: Maybe it’s worth the risk

“Will you be my girlfriend?” “I thought you’d never ask.”

Day 12: Never have I ever before

“Mattheo, please,” I beg. “Please what, baby? Use your words,” he commands. “I need to feel you.” I gasp. “Breathe, angel. It’s okay, you can take it.” I nod, gripping the sheets and feel myself adjust to him. “Good girl, you’re doing so well.” He laces his fingers through mine and kisses my lips, moving into me again. “We’ll start slow, we’ve got all night.”

Christmas Day: On thin ice

“Matty, I’m scared.” “What’s wrong, love?” His brow furrows. “I want this, I want you. But so many things can go wrong,” I say, waving my hands around. “Don’t worry,” he says, brushing my hair from my face. “I won’t hurt you.” “Promise?” “Promise.”

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A/N: We're just three chapters away from the canon ending, then there will be a bonus alt ending. Stay tuned!

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#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle #slytherin x reader #slytherin x slytherin #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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epochofbelief · 2 months

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Strictly Confidential: Chapter Five

A Modern Feysand AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long everyone. Life is... insane. But it's spring break, so I finally had the time and energy to devote to this. It's kind of long, so fair warning ;) Also, I did just spend four straight hours writing and editing this so if there are typos… there are typos💓

Strictly Confidential Masterlist

My Other (Completed) Feysand AU Fic: What to Expect When You're (Not) Expecting

Chapter Five:

A week after Feyre told Azriel she would turn informant against her partner, she still hadn't heard from the FBI.

And her week only grew worse with every passing day. Her professors had hit the mid-semester stride, assigning longer and longer readings. She continued to receive invitations to networking events and all manner of schmoozing and boozing opportunities from her future firm. Various midterm writing assignments were ramping up, and she had just finished a particularly brutal round of citation checks for the Law Review legal journal on which she was a staff editor.

Her only saving grace had been Tamlin’s obvious exhaustion. He left the apartment before Feyre woke up and returned long after she fell asleep.

If it had been any other way, Feyre wasn’t sure how she would have survived the week. The thought of Tamlin touching her sent shivers down her spine and images of what Rhys’s younger sister might look like spinning through her head. Did Tamlin know about what had been done to keep his secret? How involved was he in the more violent aspects of his criminal enterprise?

The questions were endless, and yet Feyre had no one to ask. She was supposed to be the one finding answers, anyway.

And while she desired to put a stop to Tamlin's crimes, she couldn't help but find it ironic that this was just one more thing that had come to rest on her shoulders.

And the FBI didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry, Feyre thought irritably as she waved Tamlin out the door on Thursday night. He had come home early to pack a bag—once again leaving town for the weekend. On business.

Feyre let him press a kiss to his cheek, then shut the door on his back, doing her best not to slam it.

She turned and leaned against the wood, scrubbing her face with her hands. If the FBI didn’t tell her what to do soon, she would forget about the deal and break up with Tamlin. Move back in with her family. It would mean adding a job to her academic workload, but she didn’t think she would survive more than a few months in her family’s house. Nesta would freeze her out until she needed something. Elain's perpetually present boyfriend disliked Feyre for some reason. Her father wouldn’t know what to do with her.

Feyre sighed, then jumped as a knock on the door behind her head reverberated through her skull.

“Did you forget something?” She asked, flinging open the door, expecting to find a harried-looking Tamlin on the other side.

Instead, she came face-to-face with Rhysand, a stunning blonde woman next to him.

“Oh,” Feyre squeaked.

Rhysand grimaced at her, dressed once again in all-black suit, tailored perfectly to his muscular body. Though he looked more casual than Feyre had ever seen him—his usual black tie was missing, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. Feyre swallowed, averting her eyes from his tanned upper chest and violet eyes, instead surveying the blonde.

The woman was also clad in all-black, her blazer buttoned around a narrow waist, a short pencil skirt emphasizing long, tanned legs. Her blonde hair cascaded over both shoulders, and her lips, coated in a bright red lipstick, tugged into a smile.

Perhaps this was Rhys’s partner? Feyre’s eyes snapped back to Rhys’s at the thought, as if she would find the answer there.

“As much as I would love to stand here and watch you two stare at each other, the hall is a little exposed. May we come in, Feyre?” The blonde asked, brushing past Feyre without waiting for an answer, disappearing into the apartment behind her.

“You came,” Feyre breathed.

Rhys cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry it took so long.”

“Would you two get the hell in here?” The woman’s voice sounded from behind Feyre.

Rhys grimaced again, gesturing for Feyre to lead the way into the apartment. “Please excuse my cousin, Morrigan Underwood. She’s one of the best the FBI has to offer, but most days she’s just a pain in my…” Rhys trailed off, and Feyre couldn’t help but grin as Morrigan extended a manicured hand toward her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Feyre,” Morrigan said, smiling warmly down at her. Morrigan was tall, and the heels only added to her height. Next to the beautiful FBI agent, Feyre felt short and grubby in her socked feet next and oversized t-shirt. “Sorry to barge in on you. We got lucky tonight—video cameras are down. So we thought we would come to you.”

“Just luck?” Feyre asked, folding her arms and leaning against the kitchen island.

Morrigan and Rhys exchanged a glance. “Luck with a little help from Azriel,” Morrigan admitted, shrugging.

Gods, they really were the FBI, Feyre thought, walking around the kitchen island and opening the fridge. “Can I offer either of you—a water? Or something else?”

“We don’t want to trouble you,” Rhys said, at exactly the same moment Morrigan said, “Absolutely. Tamlin took forever to leave, and even though someone knew there would be a stake-out, he didn't think to stock refreshments in his car.” Her brown eyes cut to Rhys.

“Mor,” Rhys groaned.

Feyre smiled to herself as she retrieved three bottles of sparkling water from the fridge and returned to the living room, sitting in the armchair across from the couch where Rhys and Mor had seated themselves.

“Nice place,” Mor commented, her eyes scanning the room appreciatively. “Very . . . minimalist.”

Feyre shrugged. “It’s not exactly to my tastes, but thank you.”

Feyre ignored Mor’s cocked eyebrow and the crease that formed between Rhys’s eyebrows at her words. She cleared her throat. “So. Care to share why you’re here?”

Mor popped the top off her water and sank back into the plush white couch, lifting the drink toward Rhys. “You’re up, cousin.”

Rhys leaned forward on the couch, his own water forgotten on the sleek coffee table in front of him. Feyre couldn’t figure out where to look as she waited for him to speak. His large hands, clasped in front of him. The sliver of exposed skin just below his neck. Those violet eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul.

She settled for his forehead as Rhys began to speak. “You took a risk last week, going into Spring Solutions without backup. If something had happened to you in there, we would have had no way of knowing.”

Feyre folded her arms. “I thought you wanted me to gather information for you. How am I supposed to do that if I can’t go anywhere without an escort?”

“Backup doesn’t necessarily mean an escort.”

-----

Two hours later, Feyre’s mind was about to explode with all the information Rhys and Mor had drilled into her head. They had provided her with a wire, an earpiece that she could hear and speak to them through, an exhaustive explanation of how dangerous being an informant was, and a briefing on proper reporting and contacting methods she would have to engage in when reaching out to the FBI.

She drew the line at the bulletproof vest Mor retrieved from her bag.

“Where am I supposed to hide that?” Feyre demanded. “The tech is enough.”

Mor and Rhys exchanged a glance. “Feyre…” Rhys trailed off, his eyes searching her face.

“You make me take that and this whole thing is over before it began.”

Rhys held up his hands. “Alright. But if you dream up any more ridiculous plans to go into the heart of enemy territory, you contact us first. We’ll get it to you.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. She didn’t envision herself getting shot any time soon.

“Lastly,” Mor said. “Here’s the address of our future meeting place.” She handed Feyre a scrap of paper. “Memorize it and then destroy it. You can get there by train, so transport isn’t a problem. You’ll have to switch trains about halfway there, but that’s your opportunity to determine if you’re being followed. If you have any suspicion whatsoever that someone is on your tail, do not go to the safe house. Just board a train back in the direction of the city.”

Feyre looked down at the address. “How often will we be meeting?”

“Only as often as necessary. You let us know through that earpiece and we’ll arrange it. Best not to create any new strange habits that people might notice. Memorize.”

Feyre nodded, swallowing the sudden wave of anxiety cresting through her. She was truly doing this. Working for the FBI. Attempting to inifiltrate a strange and possibly deadly organization. Betraying her boyfriend—the man who had fed her and housed her for the better part of her law school experience.

Mor cleared her throat, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got a meeting. Finish up here, Rhys?”

Rhys nodded, clapping his cousin on the shoulder as she stood, extending her hand once more to Feyre. “Good luck, Feyre. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again very soon.” Feyre nodded, and Mor paused, her manicured hand squeezing Feyre’s. “Do try not to get caught.”

Then she was gone.

Leaving Feyre and Rhysand alone in the enormous, stark apartment.

“Is there much more?” Feyre asked, forcing herself to keep her arms at her sides rather than swinging them in the awkward silence.

“No, but—” Rhys halted midsentence as Feyre slumped into the enormous white armchair next to the window, relieved to hear those words coming from Rhys’s mouth. She honestly hadn’t been sure if she could take much more.

Her entire relationship was a lie—everything was a lie. She had trusted Tamlin with her safety. With her nights and days and most of the time in between. He had given her a place to stay after years spent under her family’s influence.

And yet.

“He’s been lying to me,” Feyre muttered, more to herself than Rhysand, who had leaned closer to her as her thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper. “This whole time.”

Her eyes drifted down from the ceiling, locking instead with Rhys’s blue eyes, drinking her in from his position on the couch.

“I never knew,” she said softly. “I never even suspected. You must think I’m some kind of idiot.”

A muscle fluttered in Rhys’s jaw, and he shook his head, one hand extending toward her as if to rest it on her knee. But he thought better of it, instead clasping his hands between his knees. “On the contrary. I’ve spent a year investigating Tamlin and he's slipped through my fingers every time. It’s no surprise you never knew."

Feyre bent over her knees, hands covering her face. “How long will it take?”

Rhys cleared his throat, thankfully understanding her meaning. “It depends. The more and better information we get, the easier it will be to charge him.”

When Feyre didn’t respond, Rhys continued.

“But if you want out, Feyre, say the word. We—I—would never dream of forcing you to stay in this relationship just for our purposes. There would be no hard feelings if you changed your mind.”

Feyre’s hands slid from her face, and she returned Rhys’s stare with one of her own. “No.”

“No?”

“I want to do this. I have to do this. If what you say is true, Tamlin is the reason your sister—and who knows how many others who knew too much—are gone. I can’t stand by and watch that happen. Can’t leave him knowing about the horrible things he is causing, or at least sanctioning.”

She could have sworn a glimmer of pride shone in Rhys’s eyes as he surveyed her. And despite everything, despite the loss of his sister and the investigation and the potential threat to Feyre’s life, he smiled.

“Then let’s bring that bastard down.”

Feyre couldn’t resist the grin she shot back.

-----

A week later, some of that excitement had died down. Tamlin had been at work around the clock, busy with various “projects” as he described them to Feyre. However, he had revealed that his next out-of-town venture would take place in late October—just a few weeks away. And Feyre was determined to discover the destination. So in addition to her studies and checking in every so often with the FBI through her earpiece, she spent the wee hours of the morning combing through Tamlin's computer in secret, digging through his bags and looking through his phone for anything that might reveal his future plans.

She continued to come up empty-handed.

But she didn't intend to give up, even though her exhaustion grew worse with every passing day. Feyre resolved to take a break from her sleuthing that night as she walked to another networking event, this one just a few blocks from her apartment.

She arrived in her best black suit, pencil skirt just brushing the tops of her knees, black tights beneath warding off the crisp fall air. She had spent extra time on her hair that evening—adding a little extra dry shampoo, teasing the golden-brown strands into a gentle curl at the ends. She even went so far as to add an extra layer of mascara before she came to her senses.

There was only one reason Feyre was putting in this extra effort, despite the minuscule chance that the reason would even be present at the mixer.

United States Attorneys surely had better things to do than attend every attorney/law-student networking event in the city.

And besides. Feyre was still unavailable, even if Tamlin had barely laid a finger on her the past few weeks, as busy and stressed with work as they both had been. Even if in her mind, her relationship with Tamlin had long since come to a crashing halt.

So she had resisted the urge to dab on some blush before she rushed out the door, tying her black overcoat around her waist as she rode the elevator to the lobby. Just a half hour later, she found herself engaged in a spectacularly dull conversation with a pair of junior associates from one of the other firms in Prythian. Feyre had forgotten their names almost as soon as she had heard them, distracted as she was with thoughts of her mission for Rhys—with thoughts of whether Rhys might be present tonight.

“Do you have plans to pursue partnership?” One of the attorneys—a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and brown eyes—inquired, taking another sip of her mixed drink. The woman was tipsy, but quite adept at hiding it. If Feyre hadn’t spent years observing her older sister Nesta’s drinking habits, she might not have noticed.

Unfortunately, the woman was staring at Feyre so intently that Feyre decided she would be forced to answer the question. Feyre’s mind raced, and she genuinely wondered whether saying, “I don’t know—nor do I much care at this point,” might be disadvantageous to her career. If it might get back to Hybern & Night.

But then she felt a hand at her elbow, a warm male body sidling up next to her, the scent of citrus and the sea washing over her in a wave.

“Feyre, darling. You’ve been avoiding me. My father insisted I meet his firm’s future associate.”

Feyre bit back her smile as she turned her attention from the attorneys in front of her to the man who had just stepped up to her elbow. Blue-black hair slightly tousled, as if he had just run his fingers through it. Violet eyes dancing with mirth. Black-on-black suit only emphasizing his imposing figure.

“I didn’t realize we were engaged in a game of hide-and-seek,” Feyre said. “Will you excuse me, ladies? It was wonderful to meet you both.”

And she allowed Rhys to whisk her away, through the crowded ballroom where the event was being held and up a set of stairs, where he pulled her out to a small balcony overlooking one of Prythian’s many parks to the rear of the building.

“That’s twice now,” Rhys noted, releasing Feyre’s elbow only when she leaned against the railing, her own elbows resting against the cool metal.

“Twice what?”

“That I’ve saved you from the vultures. However will you repay me?” Rhys asked, leaning onto the railing next to her.

“I’ll think of something,” Feyre said quietly, raising her eybrows.

“How are you holding up?” Rhys asked.

Feyre blinked. She had expected him to press her for details on Tamlin’s movements, or perhaps encourage her to try just a little harder to get him something, anything he could use to find justice for his little sister.

“I’m—fine,” she said haltingly. “Tamlin has another trip in two weeks, but you already know that. He’s…resistant to the idea of me hanging around Spring Solutions. Keeps insisting it’s going to interfere with my studies.”

Rhys sighed, shifting on his feet. Feyre tried to ignore how the motion brought his arm closer to hers, so close she could feel the heat of his body soaking into hers. “He may be an insufferable bastard, but the man is cautious.”

Feyre tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her wince at the words “insufferable bastard.”

“I’m sorry,” Rhys said, once again surprising Feyre at how adeptly he said the right thing, how flawlessly he interpreted her mannerisms and expressions. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

But Feyre shook her head. “You have every right, Rhysand. After what he did to your sister…”

Rhys let out a long sigh. Feyre echoed him a moment later.

"You called them vultures," Feyre said after several silent moments passed.

"And?"

"Why did you become an attorney if—if you find most of those people in there as abhorrent as I do?"

Rhys shrugged, the movement causing his shoulder to brush against Feyre's. "I come from a very long line of attorneys. In a way, it was the only future I ever really considered for myself. Even though I hated the way my father's work kept him so busy, how he constantly chose his billable hours over his family. I knew he never had any passion for the law he practiced. He merely craved the money, and the prestige, and the reputation."

Feyre turned to observe Rhys, studying the side of his face as he gazed out over the park.

"But I think watching all that made me want to be a different kind of attorney. Someone who cares about the people I'm representing, the cases I'm bringing. And a career as a prosecutor seemed like a good place to start—at least for now.” Rhys paused, as if weighing whether to say what he said next. “I'm not sure if it's made me any better than my father."

"For what it's worth, Rhys, I don't consider you a vulture."

Rhys met her eyes then, his face so open, so vulnerable, for one brief moment. "Likewise," he said quietly.

Feyre grimaced, choosing not to argue with him. Even though she was the one chasing the money that came with a big law job. Even though everything Rhys had said could very well describe her situation exactly.

“You want to get out of here?” Rhys said suddenly.

Feyre turned to look at him. “And do… what?”

“Take a walk. Grab a drink. Do anything other than talk to those insufferable sycophants prowling around that ballroom.”

Feyre swallowed, and before she could talk herself out of it, she heard herself saying, “Let’s go.”

An hour later, Feyre was two glasses of wine deep, laughing at something Rhys said to the strangers they had befriended at the bar a few blocks from the networking event. She hadn't had this much fun in—in a very long time. She couldn't remember the last time she went out with her friends on a whim, talking about everything and nothing, without discussing law school or work or anything serious.

But Rhys was fun. And Feyre was enjoying herself immensely. She even felt a little sad when Rhys paid the tab over her protests, insisting that he remembered all too well the weight of law school loans, before he ushered her out of the bar.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said as they emerged into the dark streets of Prythian.

“You don’t have to do that,” Feyre said.

“It’s dark and we’re downtown.”

Feyre bit her lip, but nodded in assent, turning right to lead Rhys in the direction of her apartment. They made it all of five steps before Rhys's phone rang.

"Sorry," he mouthed at Feyre, answering the call and guiding her over to the edge of the sidewalk.

"Night speaking," he said quietly, leaning against the wall.

Feyre leaned next to him, grateful for the buzz of the alcohol keeping her warm and relaxed as she waited. Grateful that it kept her from thinking too hard about the fact that she had just gone out with drinks. With Rhysand. Alone.

But the languid peace coursing through Feyre's veins evaporated when Rhys stiffened next to her.

"Who is this?" Rhys bit out.

Feyre shivered at the ice in his tone.

"Tell me who you are," Rhys growled, even as he seized Feyre's elbow and tugged her down an alley to their right, pushing her against the wall and crowding close, as if he could shield her very existence from the world around them.

"Who is this?" Rhys demanded once more.

Who the hell was on the other end of that phone call?

"Fuck!" Rhys exclaimed, the phone going dark in his hand as whoever he had been speaking to hung up.

"Who was it?" Feyre whispered.

"I don't know. They wouldn't tell me."

"What did they say?"

Feyre felt the blood drain from her face as Rhys explained.

"We have to go," Feyre said, hands coming up to push at Rhys's chest.

"No. I have to get you home. I'm calling Cassian. He'll handle it." Rhys unlocked his phone, fingers flying across the screen.

Feyre gritted her teeth. "We're two blocks away. I'll be fine. Let's just go."

And before Rhys could argue, she took off down the alleyway, jaw set.

They made it to the alley in less than five minutes, Feyre skidding to a halt at its mouth. Rhys had just hung up with Cassian, whom he had told to meet them there as quickly as possible. Feyre made to plunge into the dark alley, but Rhys grabbed her arm, shaking his head. "Stay behind me," he insisted, moving in front of and stalking slowly down the alley.

They were halfway through the space when Feyre caught sight of what looked like a pile of rags or fabric slumped against the alley wall about twenty feet in front of them.

Only, they weren’t rags, Feyre realized, watching the dark lump on the alley floor shift as Rhys approached.

It was a person—a man—laying on his side, head facing away from them, legs tangled together.

Azriel.

Feyre dropped to her knees next to the agent, the two glasses of wine she had drank earlier now threatening to come up when she beheld the state Azriel was in.

Two black eyes were already forming, his eyes so swollen they were mere slits in his red, black and blue face. Dried blood crusted the skin under his nose and continued all the way down his chin.

Feyre rested an arm on Azriel's shoulder, praying the agent wasn't bruised there as well.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

To her surprise, the agent chuckled. “Believe me, Feyre,” he grunted, his raspy voice echoing slightly in the alley around them. “I’ve had worse.”

Feyre bit her lip as Rhys brushed a hand lightly over her shoulder before joining her on the ground before Azriel.

"How long?" Rhys asked.

"Half hour," Azriel rasped, a series of hacking coughs interrupting him before he could continue. "Maybe longer."

Feyre saw the shadow of rage that passed across Rhys's face as he realized how long Azriel’s attackers had waited to call him. But he didn't verbalize it, instead murmuring, “Let’s get you up, friend." He gripped Azriel’s shoulders and pulling him into a seated position. A shaft of moonlight illuminated the agent, allowing Feyre to more fully appreciate just how battered his face was.

“Gods,” Feyre breathed, following Rhys’s lead and ducking under one of Azriel’s arms.

“It was Spring,” Azriel said quietly, once they had managed to drag him halfway down the alley.

Feyre sensed, rather than saw, Rhys stiffen at the words.

“How do you know?” Feyre asked quietly.

Azriel coughed, spitting a wad of blood onto the alley floor in front of them. “They jumped me,” he said. “Took my gun, then a few of them held me down so they could take turns hitting me. I couldn’t do anything but let them—let them—” He broke off. “Then they dumped me and said they would send someone to retrieve me. I didn't know if that meant someone to finish the job, or help. The only other thing they said, the whole time, was right before one of them stomped on my head: 'Stay the hell away from Spring Solutions. Or else.' I was out cold after that. I think."

A chill ran down Feyre’s spine.

What did or else mean?

None of them spoke another word as Rhys guided them to the mouth of the alley, where a black car awaited. Rhys ripped open the door, revealing a tense-looking Mor in the backseat. She beckoned, taking Azriel from Rhys and Feyre.

Rhys got into the front seat, and Feyre climbed into the back with Az and Mor.

"Gods above," Mor breathed, surveying the damage done to Azriel's face. "What happened?"

Rhys explained as Cassian drove them quickly away from the alley, winding through the dark streets of downtown Prythian.

"Do you think they know?" Mor asked. "About Feyre?"

Rhys shook his head. "No. It was just a coincidence that she was with me at the time."

"They're getting more confident," Cassian noted, pulling his car to a stop in a darkened side street.

It took Feyre a moment to recognize where they were.

"I'll walk you to the building," Rhys said, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car.

“What?” Feyre demanded, mouth falling open as her eyes found Mor's. "I can't go up there knowing—knowing." She broke off, unable to finish her thought. How could she return to her apartment after people from Tamlin's company had just beat Azriel into a bloody pulp just to make a statement?

"Please, Feyre. We need to get Azriel medical care, and the longer you're with us, the greater the chance your cover is blown," Mor pleaded, one manicured hand brushing back Azriel's silky black hair.

"I want to help," Feyre said quietly as Rhys opened the car door next to her.

"You are helping. You already have helped," Rhys said, reaching inside the car to unbuckle Feyre's seat belt. "We need to keep you in a position where you can help."

Feyre swallowed, and let Rhys coax her from the car.

"I'll call you to let you know how he's doing," Mor offered as Rhys shut the door.

Rhys was quiet as he escorted Feyre to the side entrance of her building. "Use that earpiece as soon as you get upstairs. Let us know you go to your apartment safely. Okay?"

"And what if my cover is blown?" Feyre asked.

"If we don't hear from you in ten minutes, I'll come bursting into that apartment myself. They wouldn’t waste time on Azriel if they found out about you.”

Feyre repressed a shudder at the implication in those words: That if Tamlin’s people discovered her treachery, they would come straight for her rather than risk her retreating to the FBI before they could silence her.

Feyre gritted her teeth, lingering in the open doorway.

"Please, Feyre. We have to get Azriel help."

There were so many things Feyre wanted to say, things that the attack on Azriel now made impossible. Had it really been less than an hour since she and Rhys had sat in that bar, laughing and talking without a care in the world?

But Feyre said nothing, instead letting the glass door swing shut between her and Rhys. And since she knew Rhys wouldn't turn to leave until she did, Feyre trudged up the stairs, fighting the urge to turn back for a last glimpse of the attorney watching her.

Taglist: @rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @marinated-fish @riribbonss @tunaababee @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

#acotar #feysand #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #acomaf #feyre archeron #a court of mist and fury #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #feyre x rhys

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sariahsue · 3 months

Text

Wherefore Art Thou (My)stery Lady

When a failed attempt to let Chat Noir down easy ends with Ladybug learning his name, she does what any lovesick teenager would do: teases him mercilessly. Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3

Chapter Four

“She really hasn't given you any more hints?” Nino asked. “It's been five days!”

Adrien loved group projects. It meant that there was a chance that he could visit with friends outside of school hours. And given how lucky he had been over the past few days, it didn't even surprise him when Ms. Bustier partnered him with Nino on their history project.

They sat on his floor together, taking a much-deserved break. Adrien was rereading his texts from Ladybug again, looking for any clues he might have missed.

Nino was right. It had been five days. Five long days of torture. He hadn’t seen her since their rendezvous on top of Montparnasse Tower, but she had seen him. She’d sent three pictures she’d taken of him when he wasn’t looking. He had his back turned in each one, and he’d been in large crowds as he walked in the hallway in between classes or at the end of the day. Times where there were so many people around that he couldn’t narrow down who she could be, which was deliberate on her part, he was certain.

They were so close, and he still couldn’t find her.

His phone buzzed with an incoming message.

My Lady – I accidentally called you Kitten in front of my best friend this morning. So embarrassing! My Lady – I told her I chose that nickname because of all the stupid cat emojis you send me. Adrien – Is that permission to keep sending them to you? My Lady – No. Adrien – Too bad. Adrien – 😻😽😸

Nino shuffled over, and Adrien scanned the message quickly. Nothing that would arouse suspicion if read.

“‘My Lady’?” Nino said, reading the contact name at the top. “Getting a little possessive already, huh?”

“No!” Adrien flipped his phone over to hide the messages. “Uh, ‘My’... is short... for ‘mystery.’ She's a mystery lady, but that was too long to fit. So, My Lady.”

“I don't believe you at all, dude, but I'll give you full points for that excuse.” Nino returned to his spot on the floor and started scrolling through his own phone, which he kept hidden from Adrien's view. “You like her already, huh?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said. He and Nino hadn't talked much about it, aside from that first day. Adrien had been too busy trying to piece together who Ladybug was, and he was getting frustrated. All he'd done so far was eliminate everyone in the school. Realizing he missed her on his first pass, he tried again. He looked at the yearbook, made a list of everything he knew about her, spent almost all his time in class puzzling over her, and he'd still come up empty.

“You should ask her out,” Nino said. “I've known her for a long time, and I think you two would be good for each other.”

Adrien nodded. He'd always thought so. “I asked already.”

“You did? Why didn't you tell me?”

“She said yes, assuming I could figure out who I'm asking!” Adrien flipped onto his back and stared at the high ceiling above him. “You’re not allowed to give me any hints, but what is she like?”

“How's that not a hint?”

“Because I already know what she's like.” He raised the phone, implying that he’d gotten to know her through texting and not midnight rooftop strolls. “I just want a different perspective. Maybe I just need the same information from a new angle.”

“If she gets mad at me, I'm blaming you.”

“But she wants to go out with me, right? So you're really trying to help her.”

“How about this,” Nino said. “I won't tell her if you won't.”

“Deal.”

Nino had been typing away on his screen, cap hiding his eyes, through the whole conversation and finally lifted his head.

Adrien listened intently as Nino started listing Ladybug's familiar traits.

“She's very creative and sweet, but still tough when she wants to be.”

Adrien knew both of those well from fighting alongside her. She could come up with the most ridiculous plans and execute them flawlessly. She'd stare down a monster and then turn around and help someone who'd been trying to kill her moments before.

“She's good at video games.” Another one that he knew, but had forgotten. He'd have to write that down on the list.

“And she can be pretty shy and nervous sometimes. It took her forever to tell you that she likes you.”

Adrien hadn't thought about it like that. She'd admitted to being anxious and awkwardly obvious about her crush (not that he'd been able to figure out that clue either), but he hadn't mentally added that trait to his image of her. She always seemed so confident and self-assured, and he loved that about her. He'd only ever seen her truly nervous on that first day.

“That's all you're getting.”

“None of it was really new information,” he said. “But thanks for reminding me of some things.”

“Sure, dude.”

Adrien's phone alerted him to another message.

My Lady – So... Mystery Lady, huh?

Adrien turned to Nino. “You texted her about that? Since when have you had her number?”

“Since the day she got her phone.”

My Lady – That was smooth. Plus, now you can use my favorite nickname! Adrien – I could just break into Nino's phone and check his messages, you know. My Lady – That would be cheating! Don't you dare!

“Am I going to do this project by myself?” Nino asked. “Or should I call your girlfriend and ask if I can borrow some of your attention?”

“Sorry, sorry.” And he was, until the next text from her came in. Nino sighed but didn’t complain as Adrien reflexively reached for his phone.

My Lady – Kitten, my homework is boring, and I don't want to do it. Talk to me. Adrien – What do you want me to say? My Lady – I don't know. Anything. Adrien – Okay...

He searched the room for inspiration but found none. The first thing that caught his attention on his phone was his name for her.

Adrien – What did you name my contact? My Lady – Uh... My Lady – … My Lady – Nothing... Adrien – Nothing as in just a blank space, or nothing as in something that you don't want to say? My Lady – NOTHING Adrien – Uh huh. So what is it? Adrien – Hm? Adrien – Aren't you going to tell me? My Lady – No. Adrien – Why not? My Lady – I'm going to delete your number if you don't stop asking! Adrien – That won't do anything. I'll just text you again, and then you'll have it again. My Lady – Please unsubscribe me from your mailing list. Adrien – Is it just a string of hearts or something? My Lady – The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Adrien – Or maybe it's “Hot Stuff”? My Lady – New phone. Who dis? Adrien – Wow. It must be reeealllly embarrassing if you don't want to tell me this badly. My Lady – FINE! My Lady – When I found out who you were, I changed your contact to “Future Husband.” OKAY?!?!?!

If Plagg could see his face right now, Adrien was sure the kwami would gag. He was probably smiling like an idiot. She really thought that it was a possibility?

“You good, dude?”

Adrien only nodded because how was he supposed to explain? Ladybug - LADYBUG - really had decided that she wanted to marry him?!

She was also still waiting for his response. Probably anxiously. Should he gush about how much he loved her or continue with his teasing?

Teasing won out.

Adrien – Oh, Bugaboo, you didn't even buy me a ring yet! My Lady – SHUT UP I'M GOING TO CHANGE IT Adrien – Please don't. Adrien – My ring size is 29, in case you were wondering. My Lady – That's not even a real size. Adrien – Oh. Adrien – Father doesn't sell jewelry, so I don't know anything about it. Haha. My Lady – Average sizes are usually between 5 and like 10 or 11. My Lady – In case you were wondering... My Lady – Mine’s 4 and a half.

---

Adrien walked into school the next morning (on time, thankfully! The photographer had been 10 minutes late to the shoot and traffic was horrible all morning) ready to watch the front door for any stragglers who showed up late. He still didn't have any ideas about who Ladybug could be, and he was starting to think he was missing the obvious. So he stood in the middle of the courtyard and scanned faces as they trickled in, but no one in particular stood out to him. No girl was the same height, looked just right, sounded like her, or moved the same way. Over several minutes, the courtyard started filling up. Starting from the doors, he slowly rotated until he’d done a full circle, double checking if someone had slipped past him. Nino was the only one in the crowd who caught his attention.

“Hey, bro!” Nino said, waving as he approached. “You look distracted, which means you haven't figured it out yet.”

“No! And she still won't give me another hint!”

“That's because you have enough to figure it out with, man. You're trying too hard.” He swung an arm over Adrien's shoulders. “Just look at your contact list and find the hole. Should be obvious, my dude.” It was easy for Nino to give advice. He had found out who she was the easy way ages ago.

But Ladybug kept telling him that, too. Plagg, when he didn't avoid the subject entirely, said much the same thing.

Adrien reached for his phone, but his scroll through his contact list was interrupted by an incoming text image.

There he and Nino were, in the middle of the crowded courtyard, looking at his phone. Adrien's head snapped up. The photographer had been directly in front of him on the upper level, but that area was now deserted.

“Come on,” Adrien said. “Maybe we can catch her.”

He took the stairs two at a time while Nino hollered for him to slow down. Adrien had no plan to do anything of the sort. His Lady had been there just a few seconds ago. She couldn't have gotten far.

Reaching the top step, he took another look around. There were a few corners that she could be hiding behind, or she could have ducked into a classroom. He debated for only a second. What would Ladybug do if she was trying to trip him up? Probably go where the most people were so she could hide in plain sight. He poked his head into the nearest classroom. A few people waved to him, but no one he knew well enough to have traded phone numbers with.

He tried a few more, then doubled back and checked the alcoves. There were a lot of people that he knew, and because he was in such a hurry, all of them seemed to want to say hello to him. He stayed only long enough each time to give a very hurried explanation that he was looking for someone in order to excuse himself before running off again.

“Hey!” Nino said, finally catching up with him. “Will you slow down?”

“Did you see her anywhere? Please tell me that much. Did I overlook her again?”

“I haven't seen her,” Nino said, taking off his hat and fanning himself with it. “What did you eat for breakfast, man? Rocket fuel? I haven't seen you run like that since the last akuma. Or…” Nino put his hat back on and smiled, “do you really just want to find her that bad?”

Two minutes after running out of the courtyard, Adrien found himself up at the top of the stairs overlooking it. He walked to the railing, where Ladybug had been standing when she took her picture of him. She'd been so close, and she'd slipped through his fingers again. He needed to figure her identity out soon, or she’d be the death of him (in the best way possible).

The courtyard was emptier than it had been a few minutes prior. The flow of students through the front doors had been reduced to a trickle. Only a few stragglers remained at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to go to class until the very last second.

“I think the bell's about to ring,” Nino said, tapping him on the shoulder. “We should go.”

Adrien sighed. Another attempt to find her had ended in failure.

They trudged back down the stairs to their first class. A few of their friends were ahead of them in the hallway, including Alya and Marinette, who were whispering together. He heard Alya congratulating Marinette about something. He heard only a few words, “likes you a lot!” and “interested.” What were they talking about? He picked up his pace, hoping to get close enough to catch more of the conversation, but Nino called out to them over the crowd to get their attention before he reached them.

Alya cut off her next sentence abruptly and spun around, eyes going to Adrien first before landing on Nino.

“Good morning!” Marinette said, eyes shining. Was he imagining it, or was her gaze lingering on him longer than it usually did? “What have you two been up to this morning? Looking for that mystery lady of yours again?”

“You know about that?” Adrien groaned. “How many people know?”

A few people shoved past him to get to their classrooms. He hadn't realized they were blocking the traffic.

“Nino told me about it,” Marinette said, starting to walk forward again. “He said you were having some trouble figuring out who she was. Do you want some help?” Behind her back, Nino and Alya exchanged deadpan looks.

“Yeah,” he said. “That would be great. I've tried everything I can think of.”

Marinette thought about it for a few seconds, tapping her finger to her lips in a slow, exaggerated movement. He glanced down at the finger briefly before turning his attention back to her eyes.

“Have you tried tricking her into giving you more information? Like ask her about something that happens at school today that only some people know about. Then, if she sees it, you have fewer people to guess from. Maybe you could cat-ch her that way?” She put more emphasis on the first half of the word “catch,” but he wasn't sure why. “What about the assembly today?”

“That's a great idea, Marinette! Thanks!” That was a fantastic idea. The assembly was only for their grade, and if she saw it too, that would really narrow down the pool of candidates. And even if she didn’t, he could exclude an entire grade from his search. He would have to word his questions just right, so she wouldn’t think he was asking for another hint. If she knew he was looking for a way around the rules of her challenge, she might not answer. Or worse, be unhelpful on purpose.

“You're welcome,” she said. “I really hope you find her soon.”

Adrien blinked, surprised to find himself and Marinette alone in the hallway in front of their first period class. His mind was still thinking up exactly how he would pose his questions to seem the most innocent.

“Really, Marinette. Thank you. I really want to find her.”

She beamed at him as the bell rang, and they both ran for the classroom door.

With Marinette’s help, and a little bit of his Lady’s luck, he might know was behind the mask by the end of the day. And he couldn’t wait.

Chapter Five

---

Tag list: @eclipsesmoonshine14, @alittlewolf2, @mlbigbang

#adrinette #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #ml

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earth616variant · 2 years

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the send-off | s.r; 2

summary | Being his best friend and assistant, Howard Stark asked you to be the first one to be tested on his time machine project. After some unexpected errors, you ended up stuck in the modern times of the 21st century. Where you meet the man you thought died years ago: Steve Rogers.

pairing/s | steve rogers x reader, avengers x reader

word count | 3.9k+

genres | angst, fluff, crack, time travel au, unrequited love au

warnings | mentions of death,

note | thank you for the love with the first chapter! here's the second part. hope you'll enjoy reading. as always, reblogs and feedback are appreciated.

series masterlist

THE FIRST TIME you and Steve met was just a random encounter you had. You were bored. Howard brought you with him to New York City for his most awaited Stark Expo. The prototype for the flying car that he presented was a failure but the people still loved it since your best friend was quick to save himself from embarrassment. He was basically just putting a show on stage and you internally cringed standing there. So you just wandered around the place instead of waiting for him backstage. You found yourself in the nearby enlistment office adjacent and decided to stay to look around.

“What is the great Dr. Y/N doing here?”

You turned around from gazing at one of the framed displays to the familiar voice who spoke behind you. It was Dr. Erskine, a scientist rescued by the SSR with the help of Stark Industries. You returned the kind smile he gave you.

“I’ve had enough of watching Howard talk every time. I needed to get away.” you joked, making the older guy chuckle.

“Well, you are free to stay here in the meantime. I was just reviewing some possible test subjects for the serum.” he shared.

You were about to say something when a conversation caught your and Dr. Ernskine’s attention. You see two men talking to each other. One wore an enlisted army uniform while the shorter one held a piece of what seemed to be a registration paper.

“You don’t think I can do it.” the smaller, blonde man spoke, hurt evident in his tone.

“This isn’t some back alley, Steve. It’s a war. Why are you so keen to fight? There are lots of other important jobs.”

Your eyes move to Dr. Ernskine at the mention of the war. He already seemed engaged in the conversation. With only listening to them for less than a minute, your brain already formed context on what they were arguing about.

“You want me to sit in a factory? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon while the men are laying down their lives? I can do as well as them and I got no right to do any less. That’s the thing you don’t get, Bucky. It’s not about me.”

“Right. ‘Cause, you’ve got nothing to prove.”

Then, a girl called out the name of the uniformed man, breaking the tension between the two. Once again, you turned your head to the scientist beside you and he slowly looked back at you. You can tell that he got an idea just based on the narrowing of his eyes. So you asked,

“What are you thinking, Doctor?”

He turned back with a small smile, “I’m going back to the office, Ms. Y/N. You are free to come if you want to.”

With growing curiosity and interest, you did follow him. You watched as he immediately rummaged through files and even asked for help from another nurse. He described the features of the man you saw earlier and you can already comprehend what the doctor is doing. He also approached the medical doctor, telling the same guy.

“Let me talk to him if he ever comes here.” Dr. Ernskine said.

You looked through the documents on the desk as Dr. Ernskine talked to the doctor. You read how the guy tried enlisting in four different names under four different cities. Today would possibly be his fifth try. He was undeniably persistent. It was rare as you know how other men were just forced to fight for their country.

“Quite determined, isn’t he?” the scientist spoke beside you.

“Maybe he is a real patriot,” you mumbled, still staring at the documents.

“Maybe not,” he responded, which made you look at him. “Maybe, he is just a good man.”

A patriot? A good man? What’s the difference anyway? You asked yourself. As if on cue, the medical doctor came in, stating that the guy is waiting on the other side of the curtain. Dr. Ernskine wore his white lab coat and entered the other room. You decided to stay and sit on one of the empty chairs. Silently, you listened to their conversation.

Steve Rogers. His deep voice was a big contrast to his seemingly fragile physique. You smiled when you heard Steve denying the files, stating that it might be the wrong file. When asked about the Nazis, his answer can say a lot about him.

“I don’t like bullies, Doctor. I don’t care where they’re from.”

He is a noble man, you thought. And knowing how Dr. Ernskine was interested in Steve, you knew he would stamp Steve’s document for approval. Minutes later, the white curtain opened fully. Dr. Ernskine walked out the door to look for the other staff, who he asked to leave earlier, leaving you and Steve alone. You immediately locked eyes with Steve’s baby blue ones. He seemed shy as he was the first one to look away. You stood up from your seat.

“My name’s Dr. Y/N. I work for Stark Industries.” you introduced yourself and he seemed surprised when you broke the growing silence. He was just eyeing your hand for a second when you offered it in front of him.

“Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you, Ma’am,” he spoke as he shook your hand softly. “You are Howard Stark’s assistant.”

Being used to being recognized in that way, you chuckled with that, “Indeed, I am.”

Steve was about to say something when the door opened again. You both stopped and looked at it, expecting the doctor. This time, it was Edwin Jarvis, Howard’s butler. He seemed to be searching for someone.

“Ms. Y/N, Mr. Stark has been looking for you.”

You looked back at Steve, “I guess I should go now… Congratulations on your enlistment, Steve.”

Knowing your best friend, the guy probably showered Jarvis with questions about your whereabouts. So you mindlessly left the room with Jarvis, not even hearing Steve’s small bye.

Ev'ry time we say goodbye, I die a little. Ev'ry time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little.

An old but familiar jazz played on Steve’s phone while he stroked the pencil on his sketchpad. He hummed along to the music. It somehow made him feel less out of place or time rather. Just minutes ago, he told Natasha and Clint that he is going to bed. But in all honesty, he just wanted an excuse to not go to Tony’s time machine presentation. As much as he wants to be a supportive friend and colleague, the machine just reminds him of your disappearance.

Steve reached for his small eraser, ready to finish his quick sketch. He carefully erased some messy lines. After removing the remaining eraser, Steve’s lips formed into a small smile. He is still proud of the outcome of the drawing.

Suddenly, there were heavy knocks on his door. He slid his pad into his desk drawer and closed it. Steve asked FRIDAY to open the door. Sam, who was seemingly stressed, entered the room right away.

“Steve, man, you need to see what’s going on out there,” he said. His tone is a mix of disbelief, surprise, and stress. He even pointed his index finger outside the door.

“Why?”

Sam was just about to answer when a loud booming sound and screams were heard. Steve quickly stood up from his swivel chair. Sam followed him behind as they walked out of his room to go to the explosion.

“What’s happening? I thought Tony was presenting his new project.” Steve said, confused.

Sam was quick to reply, “He was. But then, this woman showed up and Bucky seems to know her–”

“Showed up?” Steve interjected.

“Yeah, like poof!” his friend demonstrated with jazz hands. “Tony pulled the time machine lever and suddenly, this woman is standing on the platform.”

His confusion rose. Nonetheless, Steve continued.

“Any information about the woman?”

“I don’t know, man. But Bucky called her, ``Dr. Y/N.”

“Y/N?”

Steve had to repeat that to make sure he was not just hearing things. Another booming sound was heard in the distance. The two shared a look. Sam proceeded,

“Yeah. Spider kid said she was Howard’s assistant. Then, I–”

That was it. That was Steve’s verification of you. He is totally unsure how such an event is possible. But that information gave him hope.

“Where is she?”

A thin blanket of gray smoke can be seen coming out of their entrance. Steve walked faster when he saw Pepper and Natasha assisting a woman from the hangar. Without even seeing your face, he can already confirm it is you. Your hair color is the same, only its length seems longer. You had the exact fashion sense of a lady from the late 1940s. Slowly, your head turned up, meeting his eyes. He noticed how your eyes widened as you stuttered, calling his name.

“S-Steve?!”

Seeing how surprised and terrified you are with everything, Steve was about to offer you a smile. But then, your eyes rolled off the back of your head as your knees gave up. He immediately walked up to you and carried you easily in a bridal style. He looked at your unconscious state before looking up at everyone in the room, where he met eyes with Bucky. He seemed surprised too with your sudden appearance in today’s time.

“Dr. Y/N possibly experienced a panic attack.” Vision stated behind them.

“You should bring her to the clinic. Bruce can check on her as soon as she wakes up.” Natasha told him.

Steve nods and leaves the room with you. He studied your facial features while he took you to the compound’s clinic. He still had to convince himself that this is real even though he is literally carrying you in his arms. The list of questions he’s asking right now is getting longer and he mentally reminds himself to ask both Tony and Bruce about it later.

FRIDAY opened the door and lights as you and Steve entered the clinic. Just when he gently lays you on the empty bed, you squirm. Your eyes slowly open up. Steve watched as you squinted your eyes at the bright light on the white ceiling. Then, to him. Your eyes widened and immediately sat up on the bed. You were staring at each other for a full quiet minute. He did not speak until you did.

“A-Am I dead?”

Steve paused, lines between his eyebrows before he realized why you asked the question. He tried not to chuckle when he replied, “No, you’re not.”

You shook your head, gulped, and carefully asked another question, “Are you Steve Rogers?”

“Yes, I am,” Steve answered with a tight smile. He is ready to explain how he is alive but you were already occupied.

In the most unintentional dramatic way, you sighed with the back of your hand on your forehead, “Damn it, I’m dead.”

You were under obvious stress. But you just accepted whatever happened to you. You expected it anyway… death. Is this heaven? Afterlife? The question popped into your head. You opened your eyes again, looking around the room you were in. Well, heaven seems to like glass windows and things that seem to be gadgets. Steve looked different than the last time you saw him, the day he crashed with the plane he controlled after fighting that chilling Red Skull. You ignored the butterflies in your stomach as you gaze a little longer at him. Do people still grow beards in the afterlife? Before you can think of more things, he spoke again.

“Y/N, I told you you’re not dead. You are very much alive.” he paused. “You are just in a different year…”

Your nose wrinkled as you put on a look of puzzlement. “Then, what year is it?”

“It’s 2018.”

“What?”

You felt a headache coming, which makes you massage your temples. Standing up from the soft bed, you paced around the room. You breathed out heavily, puffing your cheeks. You were supposed to be in 1947, a week before Howard did the test trial on you. Not here. 2018?! Is anyone playing pranks?! You turned to Steve.

“Please tell me you are just making this all up,” you begged. ”Did Howard set this all up? Did I faint while I was on the machine? How are you even alive?! A-Are you even the real Steve Rogers or are you a lookalike? Is Barnes out there too? Where am I– God. This is insane.”

You almost tugged at the roots of your hair, trying to find an explanation for everything. Steve was about to calm you down when the door slides. You two turned to catch who it was. Only to notice the same man you saw at the controls earlier. Another awkward silence passed before he cleared his throat,

“Hello, I am Dr. Bruce Banner and–”

“I’m Dr. Y/N from Stark Industries.” you introduced yourself eagerly. Seeing another doctor made you somehow more impatient to ask questions. You don’t know what his doctorate is for but you hoped he can answer you. “Can you please tell me, Dr. Banner, where am I?”

“You are in the 21st century, missy.”

Another guy comes in and you swore, he almost looks like your best friend. Except you never think Howard will wear such a beard. Plus, you don’t like how he seems full of himself. Like Howard. But you got used to your best friend.

“Missy? Please don’t call me that. I already introduced myself.”

The three men around you– even Tony Stark himself– can tell that you were aggravated by the Stark’s presence. Well, in your defense, you don’t like to be called nicknames like that. You already had enough of that with the ugly geezers you interacted with in your time and if you really are in another timeline, you don’t want to hear another stupid nickname from anyone.

“Who even are you?” you asked him.

Tony, even though he won’t admit it, seemed a bit stunned and intimidated by you at the same time. But he replied, “Tony Stark.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Stark? You’re a Stark?!”

“I don’t like repeating myself but yes.”

There is even more confusion. You stared at his face for what felt like forever. Tony looked back at you, wondering why you are looking that way. If this is the 21st century and this man is a Stark…

You gasped, “You are Howard’s son!”

Tony nods at the mention of his father’s name. But before he can say anything, you already bombarded him with questions. You even felt more hopeful.

“Where’s Howard? Is he here? Oh my god! Does he look old already? I need to see him! I have many things to ask him!”

You looked at Tony and you noticed how his expression changed. His eyes saddened. It became quieter in the whole room. Like you can hear if a needle falls on the ground. Your heartbeat became louder than your hearing. Searching for answers, your eyes moved to Bruce but he looked away. You then turned around and instantly met Steve’s apologetic gaze.

“Where is he?” you asked in almost a whisper.

Steve breathed out heavily before speaking, “Maybe you should sit down first, Y/N.”

“Why?”

You were uneasy with what was going on in your surroundings and mixed emotions. All of the confusion, fear and other emotions you feel are leading up to one thing: frustration.

“Why do I need to sit down first, Steve?!”

At this point, you almost screamed at him. But both Bruce and Tony stayed quiet. Steve still tried to talk to you,

“Y/N, please calm down–”

“Well, damn, Rogers! Tell me what’s happening because I don’t like any of this!” you cried.

You did not notice tears were already spilling from your eyes. You were tearing up out of pure confusion and frustration. Even worry because you don’t know where the hell is your best friend and you want to see him now. Your lungs squeezed as you take in a lot of air. You cannot stop yourself from walking back and forth with your hands holding your head and your hips. It was like you want to run out of whatever this room is and jump back to that platform you suddenly appeared on. You tugged your hair between your fingers, crouching down. Tears continued to stream down your cheeks. You know that panicking is not the best thing to do in an alarming situation. But what the hell is this?

“I hate this.” you sobbed.

No one dared to touch you. The three men were all sorry. Bruce only looked down, fiddling with his fingers. Tony quietly crossed his arms as he looked everywhere in the room except you. When you felt someone crouching down in front of you, you spoke again between sobs.

“Just tell me where Howard is. Please.”

You looked up to the man in front of you with your eyes tired and still teary. Steve read and understood how you felt. Helpless. He knew how you wanted answers badly and he also knows how overwhelming it will be. So, his eyes darted to Tony, silently asking for permission to let you know about Howard. He nods. Steve glanced back at you.

“Let’s sit down back to the bed first,” he told you in the softest way he can.

Thankfully, you nodded and Steve sat next to you. You were still sobbing as he reached for your resting hand on your lap. Instantly, the knot in your stomach went tighter. You already have thoughts about where Howard is but you just want to hear an official answer.

Steve’s voice was heavy, “Y/N, Howard has already died.”

He waited for a reaction. But you remained quiet. You let out a deep, weighty exhale through your nose since you were chewing on your lips. You closed your eyes and the waterworks started again except it’s all quiet now. Tony decided to leave the room. Bruce followed. Steve felt your other hand gripping above his.

You murmured with eyes still closed, “When?”

“1991. It was a car accident.”

Your shoulders shake when you cried harder. Your heart was crushed into pieces. In your mind, you were praying that this is all just an ugly nightmare. You hoped that when you open your eyes, you will be back in your bedroom. Instead, you see Steve, Captain America. The one whom you grieved for two years. But now, he is here, in front of you, while your best friend, Howard, is dead.

“How is this even real?”

It was a question in your head that you mindlessly spoke out. Steve moved closer and delicately pulled you in his arms, where you cried silently.

“How is she?”

The moment Tony and Bruce walked by the compound’s living room on their way back to the hangar, they noticed everyone who was waiting for updates.

“She’s awake. She and Steve are talking.” Bruce answered as Tony seemed somber and lost. “We don’t really get to talk with her. But we can confirm that she is Dr. Y/N from the 1940s.”

Pepper quickly noticed something wrong with her husband. So she called him, “Tony?”

Everyone’s attention moved to the man. But he is still lost, too deep in his thinking. Pepper called him again. Bruce had to nudge him to finally snap back to reality.

“What?” he asked Bruce, totally unaware.

“Can I talk to you outside?”

Tony turned his head to Pepper and nodded. The two walked out and leaving everyone in the compound. The cold breezy air made Pepper hug herself while walking side by side with Tony on their way to the lakeside. They chose to sit on one of the benches. Pepper wastes no time starting the conversation.

“How are you?” she asked with worry in her tone.

Tony replied, “I’m fine. Some machines don’t really work sometimes. There’s always room for improvement.”

“No, not about that.” Pepper shakes her head. “I’m talking about Dr. Y/N.”

“What about her?”

Tony tried to act like he was not affected at all by your sudden presence almost an hour ago. But he knows his wife can see right through his nonchalant facade.

“Bucky told us who she was– is.” Pepper corrected herself. “How do you feel?”

Tony knows who you are. But only by name as he avoided looking at your picture ever since he can remember. You are his dad’s terrific assistant. His best friend since college. And also, his dad’s greatest regret.

Ever since he was a kid, Howard never failed to tell him about you. He told stories, facts, and kind words about you that Tony almost felt bad about your disappearance. But then, it later became an issue between his parents. Behind closed doors, he would hear his mother complaining how Howard never seemed to move on from who was already gone. He did stop talking about you, biting his tongue every time he thought of something connected to you.

They did have a better marriage. But Tony never forgets to think of you as a special person to his dad. His dad never confirmed the fact that you are his what if and should have been. Tony hated it that it caused distance between him and his father. He builds a better relationship with his mother until their very last years.

“I… don’t know.”

But meeting you now, in a short interaction, Tony contemplated. He still trying to figure his messy thoughts out but he had one thing for sure.

“But I can see why she’s important to my father.”

“So, you were frozen in ice and joined this group of superheroes…”

It’s been a couple of hours since you came to this timeline. Steve just told you how he survived what happened back in 1945 since you asked him to. undeniably, you were astonished and shocked by how it happened. He told you bits of the beginning chapters of his current life to somehow make you understand even a little. You were gladly picking up and telling him your conclusion. Steve was relieved to see you more comfortable sitting on the bed with your puffy eyes.

“Then, you go fight every time there is a threat, not just here in the country, but the world?” you ended. Steve nods. You smiled. But it didn’t last long since it slowly faded and you looked down, pursing your lips.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.

You looked up, shaking your head, “Nothing… I just realized that I’m pretty much alone now. Everyone I know from my time is probably dead now.”

“You’re not alone. I’m still alive. You know me.” Steve quipped.

Your lips formed into a small smile, “Do I? I mean, you’ve been here for years now, Steve. You probably changed too.”

He shrugged, “Nope, still the same guy from the 40s.”

“The one who lied many times on his forms?” you teased and you two shared a laugh.

“Yes. That’s me, Ma’am.” he joked back, using the same formal tone. You laughed. Once you two calmed down, he spoke again, “But really, you’re not alone. I’m here. Buck will help you too. I’m sure everyone in the compound will.”

You nodded after he placed his hand on yours again. You still have a long list of questions in your mind and some are still left unanswered. Your heart is still crying for Howard and your loss. But having Steve, who can understand you, will hopefully help you to adapt to this crazy time.

“Thank you, Steve.”

THE SEND-OFF TAGLIST [usernames in bold means can't be tagged, will be removed if not fixed.]

@supraveng @sunflower-golden-vol6 @curi0usc4t @caitlyn-who @bitchy-bi-trash @therealwritersblog @stilltoomuchafangirl @emievns @sshina555 @blinkszamsstuff @tokaixi @saviorcomplexrry @matisse556 @ragingsammie @gitasor @ladybug05 @sunwoahkim @meanttobea @j69confessional2 @thenyxsky @hotgirlshii24 @maximoffmaxipad @swthxrry @animegirlgeeky @kjah97 @justab-eautifulmess @7minutes-tomidnight @fallonaurr @curlycarley @alora162021 @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @marvelswiftsworld @wisepenguin @shatfairy @hawkinsclub1983 @coffeeshub @stillthatbetch @friendlyneighbourhoodgothicpagan @sunshineandsunflowerlover @cosmicgirls-things @sabrinaselina55 @loveisalover @mediocre-m @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @carojasmin2204 @mrsjaderogers @themerc-with-a-mouth @elmphoenix17 @slutdreams @mrbutterbunz @ @royalwritersoftheuniverses @yunloyal

#steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers au #steve rogers series #steve rogers enemies to lovers au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers time travel au #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans angst #chris evans fluff #the send off steve rogers

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dominimoonbeam · 7 months

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Holding Out for a Hero - 7

The DASHLIN bodyguard drama continues!

I know a bunch of people said the last chapter that ended with the "can I kiss you?" moment was STRESSFUL and honestly I don't know if this one is going to be helpful or just more stressful but I love you! Remember that!

If you want to read it from the start it's on ao3.

David/Asher/Darlin. No magic. Bodyguard AU where David is the rockstar, Darlin is the manager, and Asher is the bodyguard.

tags: light angst, longing, communication needs to happen, darlin has an abusive ex, scars, blood, idiots getting together

Holding Out for a Hero - 7

David glared at Asher. He was glad he had been glaring before he said what he said because it was easy to hold and so much better than the dumbfounded reboot his brain was doing right now.

“Can I kiss you?”

Heat burned David’s face, his heart beat faster, and it strained under the sick feeling that Asher wasn't the sort of person he’d thought he was. “Are you really going to be a dick about this?”

Asher stayed right where he was, knee planted on the bench seat beside David, touching his thigh, looking down at him. “I’m not joking, David. I’m asking.”

The sick feeling was gone, replaced by something else. Panic? Yeah, this felt like panic. No one had ever kissed David because David hadn’t kissed anyone, and everyone expected him to make the move. He knew why. It wasn’t an accident that he acted the way he did. He’d never liked people he didn’t know touching him and the people he did know, the ones who got close, were never that sort of relationship.

His mind tried to think about Darlin but he pushed that away. It had never happened.

David forced a thin laugh and rolled his eyes, looking away toward the deeply tinted windows. “Why? You think it would be funny?”

“I told you it wasn’t a joke,” Asher reminded. “But you had sort of a bullshit first kiss. You should get a do-over.”

“That’s not how things work.”

“How would you know?”

David frowned up at him again, eyes narrow because again he wasn’t sure if he was being mocked.

“If you don’t want to, just say so.”

David’s frown smoothed out, gone. Asher was serious. He was patient and calm and looking down at him with something heavy in his eyes. Want? David had seen plenty of people want him before, but they’d never been anyone that knew him, not really. To be fair, there were very few people who actually knew him.

Asher was still waiting, like this stretch of time wasn’t awkward at all.

David nodded once, cutting his gaze away stubbornly when heat climbed his cheeks again. Fuck.

Asher touched the side of his neck, first with fingers tips and then slowly sliding his palm to skin. David’s breath came faster. He still couldn’t look at him. What was he supposed to do? His heart was pounding and his skin felt electric everywhere Asher’s touch moved. It wasn’t that pins and needles feeling he got when strangers grabbed at him or bumped into him. It was exciting. His hand slid up to his jaw, until he was tipping David’s head back, his thumb brushing under his bottom lip.

Asher leaned down, until his face was close, until David could feel his breath on his lips. “Okay?” Asher asked with that infinite patience.

Fuck. “Yeah.”

Asher kissed him.

The first one was so soft, just the press of lips to his, only it didn’t break away. Asher kissed his upper lip, and then his lower lip, the slightest pause between each press. Unhurried, but without hesitation. And then he kissed him full on the lips again.

David had never felt light-headed in his whole damn life, but suddenly he was really glad he was sitting. He wanted to touch but he hesitated, overthinking it to the point of inaction.

Asher’s tongue brushed the seam of his lips, fingers gentle pressure points against the back of his neck. David opened and fought back a moan when Asher tongued him slowly, teasing. David pushed his tongue into Asher’s mouth in a bold moment of want and Asher moaned, sucking.

The kiss broke but Asher didn’t let go or lean back, just giving enough space to look at each other. “Better than the stranger?” he asked.

For a split-second David didn’t know what he was talking about. He’d actually forgotten. But this was nothing like that. “Definitely.”

Asher smiled, like he’d actually been unsure what David’s answer would be.

The bus door whooshed open.

Asher let go of him and slid back a few more inches. He pulled a bag of fries from the box on the table and stepped back just as Darlin came up the stairs, smirking at David when he crammed some of those fries into his mouth.

David stared for another second. His first kiss.

The engine on the bus hummed. “I’m showering,” Darlin said, sounding angry. He wondered if one of the vendors had pissed them off or if they were running late.

Asher stepped back again, leaning against the counter to give Darlin room to walk between him and where David was sitting.

They watched each other while Darlin shed a couple layers, grabbed a towel, and then went into the shower.

The door closed and they both just watched each other, slowly smiling.

When the shower turned on, Asher came closer, putting the fries down and pretending to look at the other food options in the box. “Again?” he asked, biting at the corner of his mouth like he was trying to stop smirking.

David grabbed his hip and pulled him back into the booth, this time with Asher straddling his lap when they kissed. His hands roamed up Asher’s sides, and Asher’s moved over his shoulders, the back of his neck, and in his hair. Between those frantic, eager kisses, David smiled. “You know this isn’t going to be a secret from Darlin, right?” he got the words out between the press of their lips, one of his hands sliding up into the back of Asher’s hair to tug gently.

Asher hummed, licking his upper lip.

“If you were getting off on the idea of sneaking around…”

Asher sat down in David’s lap and they both sucked in a breath. “Is it really that hard for you to believe I’m just into you?” Asher asked, voice huskier than David had imagined it could be. “I don’t want to come between you two or mess anything up. If this is just a few kisses between friends, that’s okay.”

David tried to puzzle out the man in his lap. “I think we’re past a few…”

Asher smiled and slid off his lap, deeper into the booth, leaving one leg across his thighs. “How long have you been in love with Darlin?”

David groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. Why did Asher see everything?

Asher bit his lip, nodding. “Okay. I’ll help.”

David raised an eyebrow and looked at the man next to him, his hand still on Asher’s thigh across his lap. “Help with what?”

“I’ll help you two get together.” Asher smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, not really. Like he was being rejected but taking it incredibly well.

Holy shit, that was exactly what Asher thought was happening. Had he offered something casual because he thought David would rather and then he’d offered nothing more than this interaction for the same reason. And now? Now he was offering to help get him and Darlin together. “Bodyguard and match maker?”

“And first kiss,” Asher reminded with a wink, reaching into the box of food and pulling out a sandwich at random.

The shower stopped.

Asher shifted to sit upright and move his leg off of David, but David didn’t let go of his thigh, squeezing gently to keep him where he was. That gaze returned to his with a question.

David sighed. He’d never talked to anyone about any of these things before… “I’ve liked Darlin forever,” he tried to explain.

“It’s kind of obvious, big guy.” Asher smirked. “And I don’t blame you. You guys are like one good nudge away from shacking up. Don’t worry. I’ve got—”

“I like you too.”

Asher’s words stopped short. For long seconds the bus hummed along the highway and they didn’t move or say anything.

The bathroom door opened, letting out a little plume of steam. Darlin sighed, shaking out wet hair and tossing some laundry to the back of the bus. They pulled on clean, soft clothes and padded down the length of the bus toward them. They seemed less stressed than they had been when they got on.

They glanced at the table and then grabbed more water bottles, putting them down before sitting across from David. Their knees bumped under the table and Darlin looked at him. They seemed like they were about to say something, probably about the show or the tour plans, when they stopped. “You, okay?”

David felt pretty damn great, actually. No idea how this was going to play out, but hopeful. “Yeah.” He uncapped one of the waters, taking a drink before putting it down closer to Darlin than himself. They took it up automatically.

Darlin glanced at Asher and then away, digging chicken tenders out of the box of food. “Sorry about earlier,” they grumbled. “You did what you could.”

David frowned, wondering what that was about.

Asher shrugged, unwrapping his sandwich. “It’s okay. I kissed David.”

Darlin coughed on fried chicken, eyes watering and hand thumping their chest. They chewed, swallowed, and stared at Asher. “What?”

Asher stared back. “You said I could.”

“The fuck I did!”

“Excuse me?” David snapped but neither of them seemed to notice.

“I said you could ask him out, not maul him!”

“Woah.” David would have probably shot up from his seat if he didn’t still have Asher’s leg across his lap.

Darlin shot up instead. “Get off of him!”

Asher winced and instead of arguing, he moved his leg off of David’s lap. “I didn’t maul him, Darlin. I’m just telling you—”

“You gave him permission to ask me out?” David seethed.

For the first time Darlin’s attention moved from Asher to David. The anger seeped away and they looked…caught? “Davey…”

“No. What the fuck? Since when do you decide that?”

Darlin chewed their lip.

“It wasn’t like that,” Asher said softly, suddenly coming to Darlin’s defense. “I asked if there was anything in my contract about not asking you out. It wasn’t like they personally gave me permission or anything.”

David cringed at mention of the contract and the reminder that Ash worked for him. Fuck. That was complicated. They’d have to talk about that if things went on like this… Whatever this was…

“I’m sorry,” Darlin rushed out the words, an edge of panic or maybe shame making them heavy. David didn’t like it.

Darlin pushed their chin down and tried to get their head straight. Fuck, this had all come out wrong.

The concert had gone so well and then that fan had basically attacked Davey and…and they’d completely snapped at Asher over it. They knew it wasn’t fair. What was he supposed to do other than exactly what he’d done? But it was David. Their David. They knew how much he didn’t like physical contact from strangers let alone anything like that but it was so much more than that, wasn’t it? They had known David had never been kissed, because if he had been they would have heard about it.

And really, what right did they have to be mad? Worried about how he felt, sure, yes, but mad?

Now David was pissed and he had every right to be. They’d fucked this up so bad. They’d known David had a crush on them for years. They couldn’t understand why, but they had known. They’d thought it was because he didn’t feel like he had other options, because they were the person closest to him, that he would get over it when he realized he could do so much better. And then it had become easy to leave it like that, to be so close and still not quite more than friends.

And then Quinn had happened. Darlin had never deserved someone like David, but maybe they’d deserved Quinn.

They tasted blood and gagged, suddenly hearing the crunch of their own bones under his knuckles.

“Oh shit,” they distantly heard Asher. He was jumping over the table just as David was rising, pushing forward toward them.

Darlin jerked back from that figure, coughing and bending an arm over their face, like they were just coughing into their elbow and not protecting their head from an attack.

David had been talking but he wasn’t sure they were hearing him. And then there was bright red on their lip, rolling down their chin, and they choked.

He was out of his seat and reaching for them, Asher going over the table to the side.

Darlin flinched back, bumping into the counter along the opposite side of the bus, their arm up. David froze, a wave of sick horror dragging through him and threatening to bring him right down to his knees.

Asher was there. He was at the sink next to them, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it. “Hey, you’re okay,” he said, loud and clear, like Darlin wasn’t right next to him. “Darlin?”

They dragged a few shaky breaths, coughing blood into their arm like they weren’t sure where it was coming from.

Asher moved slowly when he reached for them, so they’d see him coming, his hand wrapping firmly around their forearm and guiding it down. “You tore that lip. That’s all.” He pushed the wet cloth to their chin and lip.

Darlin hissed at the little pain it caused but blinked like they’d come back to themself.

“You’re okay,” Asher repeated. “It was a long day and you were stressed. I’m sorry I added to that.”

Darlin swallowed, grimacing at the taste. “No. I’m sorry. You didn’t… I’m sorry,” they lisped, talking into the cloth. Their gaze flicked to David and the naked distress there unlocked his limbs, allowing him to step closer to them. “I’m sorry,” Darlin said again.

“Here,” Asher handed him the washcloth and went back to the sink to grab another.

David cleaned up Darlin’s chin and then pressed it gently to the cut in their bottom lip again.

Asher was quick about wiping the blood splatter off their arm, like he was trying to get it done before they noticed it themself. And then the three of them were standing there, close, and no one seeming to know how to start again.

Asher was the first to move, taking a step back. “It’s my turn to shower… Don’t steal my sandwich,” he added to lighten things up before excusing himself.

David checked their lip, the blood slower now but still beading up. He pressed the cloth again.

When Asher was in the bathroom, David said softly, “You flinched.”

Darlin looked up at him. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t.” He shook his head. “Don’t apologize for that. I can’t… You know I wouldn’t hurt you, right?”

Darlin frowned, touching the back of his hand holding the washcloth to their lip. “Davey. I know.”

He sighed, relieved but still upset. It was tempting to just drop it, to drop everything just like they always did. But he didn’t want to do that anymore. He needed them to actually talk about stuff. “Darlin… You don’t get to decide who I kiss. You know that, right? I know you look out for me and I know you have to handle just about everything else in our life but that’s… That’s mine.”

Darlin nodded, something pained in their expression.

“What’s going on with you?” he whispered, afraid of the answer. “You’ve been…”

“So, you and Asher?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not.”

“I like Asher,” David said, taking the cloth away to check that split in their lip again. It was red but it had stopped bleeding. Again, he could leave it at that, but there was something in the way they nodded, shoulders sagging. Why were they so bad at this? What would Asher do? “Like I like you.”

Darlin looked up at him. It wasn’t a surprise to them. He hadn’t really expected it to be. They must have always known. He’d assumed the reason they’d done nothing was because they weren’t interested. But he hadn’t done anything either.

“Why were you upset about the kiss?”

Darlin’s gaze flicked to his mouth and then back to his eyes.

He waited.

They dragged a shaky breath and looked away. “I care about you… and I like you. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset, but when that fan jumped on you… I just knew how uncomfortable you’d be and I was angry about what had happened… And then I definitely yelled at Ash about it… And then…” They snuck another look at him. “Was it a good kiss?”

David felt heat rise to his face. They were still standing so close that he wondered if they’d feel it. “Yeah. It was.”

Darlin actually relaxed a little, a small smile pulling at the corner of their mouth. “Good.”

Their hand was still on his, even though he wasn’t holding the washcloth to their lip anymore.

Darlin took another breath and let it out like a sigh, still smirking but tired and wistful. “I should have kissed you first.”

David’s heart swelled, his gaze dropping to the cut on their lip. “Probably would have busted that lip if you tried…” he said with a little smile.

Darlin smiled back, like they couldn’t help it. “Would have been worth it.” They looked down. “So, you and Ash…”

David touched the side of their neck and leaned in. It was the softest kiss possible, softer even than the first time Ash had kissed him. The last thing he wanted was to make that lip of theirs hurt any more than it already must, but he also couldn’t circle this anymore.

#redactedverse #redacted asmr #the bodyguard au #david's never been kissed #DASHLIN #david/asher/darlin #total au no magic #fanfic #<3 #dominimoonbeam #david/asher #david/darlin

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afandommultiverse · 1 year

Text

Being A Hostage for Colonel Miles Quaritch

❀ A/n: GUESS WHO LEARNED HOW TO DO SMALL FONT IN HTML!!?? Me🤭 lmao so new look now~ I don’t know if you guys noticed yet but yes, the hc’s with moons are all connected and have their own story playing out in them, kinda like chapters, however, I will still be making headcanons outside of that small story and they will have a different emoticon. Also I know the ‘headcanons’ read more like a one-shot and that’s my bad guys. I'm tryna figure it out but for now please enjoy this third installment of my Quaritch headcanons.🫶

Side Note: I have been fairly gender neutral for the reader up until this point but for my story and nicknames sake technically its written in AFAB, I will continue to keep it as neutral as possible but I am sorry for any slip ups!

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

✿ picking up where we left off, Spider had been gone for a few hours and you were beginning to grow restless, starting to pace, first slowly then speeding up before finally you sat down and curled up into a ball. What were you going to do? You couldn’t help them, but you couldn’t let them kill Spider and you can’t afford the outcome of him seeing you die. Your main focus was getting him out of here

✿ however, your thoughts on how you were going to get him out were stopped by the sound of loud thudding footsteps near your door and the smell of blood. when the door opened you stood quickly, vigilant, ready to find the reason for such a smell. your eyes were on Spider, who was limp and nearly unconscious. running to him you hissed at the Colonel feeling stupid for having ever trusted him in the first place and as soon as Spider was laid down gently on the cot that was bought for them (Thanks Lyle), you swung

✿ Quaritch narrowly ducked, yelling out a quick “Hey now!” jumping back a few steps and fumbling, not having expected your aggressive behavior, you were quick but he was quicker, dodging you swiftly and finally when you lunged for him he grabbed you twisting and pulling around the room with each other before finally he had your front against the wall.

✿ he was a little pissed you squabbled with him but he couldn’t blame you, honestly, he’d looked like he had gone back on his word and he hated that. He didn’t care just because of you, no, he would hate for anyone to see him or know of him going back on his word, no one would tarnish that, especially not some ‘science nerds.’

✿ breathing heavily you cursed him out in your new native tongue to which he said “I know mama, I know they hurt your baby. I get it, okay? but I didn’t know a damn thing about it so stop taking this out on me, yeah?”

✿ this honestly only pissed you off more, having you thrashing in his hold relentlessly, it's then he push off of you a bit and in a quick flash flipped you around and pushed back into your space. your breath caught, the lack of air between the two of you not giving you much room to move in comfortably, but it wasn’t just that. No, it was also the smell of him, his freshly pressed and starched clothes were nostalgic of your own time in the marine corp, but underneath all that was the unadulterated smell of him. It makes your head dizzy 100%

✿ ngl he liked the way your eyes sorta glazed as you took him in, the smell, the gorgeous view I mean come on, and of course the feeling of him; pressed up against you, a little too much to just be fighting off any of your future advances. he didn’t mean to, honest, but he just felt pulled to you, physically and otherwise

✿ “Get off me.” you spit out with venom, eyes clearing and meeting his, slightly narrowed but not as much as before, sensing if you fought anymore it would just make things harder

✿ “Do you promise to be good?” you growled, something low and feral in the back of your throat before turning your head away sharply, annoyed and displeased that you had to submit to such a man (you lowkey like it though, cause bffr, ain’t nobody put your badass in check since you left the corp)

✿ “Good girl.” He could hear your heart skip a beat and grinned wolfishly, looking you up and down once more before backing away coolly and returning to spider

✿ Quaritch didn’t want to admit it, especially in the short time he has even known the kid but he was worried about him, unfamiliar with the device they had used on him earlier, he remembers a prototype that followed along that design when he was human but he didn’t expect it to go this far, seems he was wrong about yet another thing, which also pissed him off and while he was silently fuming he didn't notice you come sit at the head of the thin bed and pull spiders head into your lap

✿ when he did notice you, he watched the way you combed your fingers through spiders hair lovingly, moving it out of his face. you gently wet your thumb and wiped the blood off the top of his lip and looked hard for anything else wrong with him. Quaritch didn’t take his eyes off of you until you reached for the breathing mask you kept on the floor beside the cot and took a few deep breaths

✿ he figured he should as well as the pressure in his chest had begun to grow but when he took his last few breaths, the pressure had still not gone away. something in him wanted to say it was you but he internally rolled his eyes at that so hard that they damn near got stuck

✿ “I’m sorry, I didn’t know they would do that, the science geeks y’know?” shit you almost laughed, but instead, you shook your head and let out a deep breath.

✿ “What do you want with us, Quaritch? I won’t tell you where Sulley is.” he looked at you for a few seconds, honestly not knowing what to say, because he didn’t know what to do. he needed you guys for this mission, but keeping both of you around, especially this close didn’t seem like it would end well. for him or the general; he didn’t know yet.

✿ “I don’t expect you too, your boy didn’t,” he looked away, back down at spider, and tapped his arm twice before standing from his couch position. “He's strong, I’ll give him that. But I can’t just let you two go back, so we’ll keep you on for the ride, in the meantime you’ll be helping me and my team.” you quirked a brow

✿ “Helping you with what?” you didn’t like where this is going.

✿ “All things Na’vi of course.” he smiled and went to turn and walk out of the room, done with the conversation

✿ “Wait.” he paused, “if I help you, I need you to do something for me.” he turned, not promising anything, just curious to see what you would ask. “What?” you looked up at him and almost felt bashful, but the truth was you felt uncomfortable in your clothes, especially when you could feel the eyes of so many men on you, human and otherwise, raking you up and down like a piece of meat. they didn’t cover much more than what was needed and they seemed to take advantage. you didn’t miss that feeling at all since becoming one with the Na’vi, the people not as brash or disrespectful as the men here were.

✿ “could you bring me some clothes?” he wanted to laugh, the meaning behind the request almost escaping him but in two seconds flat he realized and it made his skin itch with irritation. the idea of anyone looking at you in a way you didn’t want began to tick him off. he blamed the reaction on the feelings he had for you prior to his death but in this new body those would be abolished, now the less he would respect your request, only to just keep your rapport, of course.

✿“Absolutely, sweetheart.”

❀ A/n: ahhh!! I’ve been wanting to get this out forever😩 but I've been working so damn much BUUUT I hope you guys enjoyed it!! Please leave any critique and don’t forget requests are open for anything!

#navi quaritch #avatar way of water #miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #colonel quaritch x reader #colonel quaritch x reader fluff #avatar 2 #alien #pandora #headcanon #avatar headcanons #quaritch fluff #general headcanons

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analogwriting · 5 months

Text

It Comes in Waves

Chapter 14: Corduroy Swell

Trafalgar Law x gn!reader word count: 1.3k a/n: ran out of wave names so now we're just gonna use ocean terminology lmfao first|next

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

Later that evening, you, Law, and the rest of the Straw Hats were sitting in a cabin. Luffy was sleeping soundly with his head in your lap. You had helped patch him up earlier and couldn’t leave his side. You had been so concerned about him and you knew that he pushed himself well beyond his limits today. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he had shaved a few years off of his life with that stunt. But, he saved Dressrosa and avenged a lot of people.

A knock came to the door that startled most of you. It opened, revealing a face you knew and didn’t expect to see. “Sabo?” you asked in disbelief. He looked over at you, equally surprised. He chuckled, making his way over to the bed where you and Luffy were at. He sat down on the edge of the bed, next to Luffy. He looked down at him with the same fondness that you did. “What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Checking on…my brother.”

You stared at him. “Brother?” He nodded, noticing looks from everyone. He chuckled. “I suppose I’ll explain.” Then he did. He explained that he was brothers with Luffy and Ace since their times as children. They shared sake, thus making them so. You had heard the story from the other two countless times. A story that always warms your heart. Then he went into the accident. How after that day, he had lost his memory and how the revolutionary army picked him up and took him in from that point on. Only for his memory to only return after he read about Ace in the papers.

Honestly, your heart hurt. You couldn’t imagine how it must have been. To go all that time without knowing and you only be reminded when tragedy struck. Fate really liked to be cruel. This was something you knew well.

Once he finished his story, you thought for a moment. “You know, I think I remember Ace mentioning you once…I didn’t realize that his story of Sabo was the same Sabo as you.” You frowned slightly. He had only mentioned Sabo once on a night of drinking. It was one of the more somber nights the two of you shared. You wished you had remembered better. Maybe then you could’ve reunited them somehow and saved Ace.

But, you knew that thinking like that wouldn’t help anyone. The past was in the past and you knew better. You knew Ace wouldn’t want you to think like that.

You could only imagine how Ace probably reacted after finding out Sabo wasn’t in the afterlife waiting for him like he probably thought. But, you also knew that he probably found comfort in knowing that Luffy wasn’t going to be alone. He was probably looking down on you all right now, happy that you were all together. Even if you were going to go your separate ways eventually, you would always have each other.

After a moment of answering questions from everyone else, Sabo stood up. “Alright. It’s time for me to go.” He looked at you. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” You blinked, nodding. “Uh, yeah.” You moved Luffy carefully to not disturb him before making your way out of the door with Sabo.

As soon as it closed, you looked at him. “How are you Sabo, really?” Concern spread across your features and you put your hands on your hips. You had met Sabo a few times while on your own journey. Being in your line of work, it was only natural that you ran into the Revolutionary Army from time to time. You two had gotten along and worked together well. You never would’ve guessed that he was connected to Luffy and Ace…though…

Now that you thought about it - it made sense. They did act similar.

“I…” He looked at you and you narrowed your eyes. You knew he was getting ready to say he was fine, but you also knew that was a load of horseshit. He sighed, knowing that lying to you was useless.

“It’s a lot…I’ll be honest.” He took off his hat, running his hand through his hair. “I had an entire breakdown when I found out.” You frowned, nodding. “It makes sense. I mean…” Your words hung in the air and he nodded. You didn’t need to say anything for him to catch on.

“But, I will be fine.” He took a deep breath, smiling at you as he placed his hat back on his head. You returned the smile. “I’m sure you will. And I’m sure Koala will make sure of that too. In her own aggressive, caring way. Tell her I said hi, would you?” He nodded, pausing for a moment.

“You know our offer still stands.” You blinked before smiling softly. You looked back towards the cabin, shaking your head. “I already somewhat accepted another offer, so I can’t.” He had asked you a few times now to join their ranks. But, as you also had told Ace, you had things to take care of. That and the Revolutionary Army just didn’t fit your vibe, oddly enough. You liked everyone there and enjoyed working with them, but you didn’t want to join them. You were content with being allies.

He nodded. “Fair enough.” He followed your gaze before looking back at you. “Take care of Luffy for me, yeah?” You looked at him and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll take care of him.”

“Take care of whoever brought that smile of yours back too.” You stared at him. “Huh?” What the hell did he mean by that?

He laughed. “I have never seen you smile as much as you have in these last few minutes. It almost seems like there might be a personality in there.” You stared at him, mouth agape. “Why you-”

He held up his hands, laughing again. “Hey, you’re the one who suddenly decided to fall in love and develop a personality.” You swatted his arm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Your ears were positively burning. “C’mon no one changes that drastically just out of the blue.” You huffed, rolling your eyes. “You read too many romance novels.”

He was quiet for a beat. “So, who is it?”

“Sabo, please.” You groaned, covering your face. He just laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, you keep your secrets. But I’m going to assume that whomever it is is also the reason that you’re not joining us.” You didn’t answer him and he just grinned. “Got my answer.”

“Sabo-” Then he said something that made you stop in your tracks.

“You remind me of Ace, you know.” There it was. Again. You just stared at him. “He used to be really grumpy too, but he always cared about us.” You swallowed hard, looking down at the ground.

“Luffy said the same thing, actually,” you said. You sighed, shaking your head. “Next time we cross paths, we should share a drink…and you can tell me about Ace. The man he had grown to be,” Sabo said, a more somber look on his face. You nodded, smiling at him. “I’d like that.”

“Take care of yourself and don’t do anything stupid. You have a little brother to be there for now,” you said, grinning at him. He laughed, nodding. “You’re right. I’ll be more careful.” The both of you knew he could be reckless, but that was just like Ace and Luffy as well.

After that, you both bid each other farewell and you headed back into the cabin. Most everyone was asleep and you made your way over to where Luffy was laying, placed his head back into your lap, leaned against the wall, and fell asleep.

#one piece #law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #iciw #am fics

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patchworkgargoyle · 1 year

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Editor Eddie

Did I write this solely because of the pun? Yes. It was, however, inspired by me wearing my Hellfire shirt and getting ready to sit down and beta a Steddie fic, as well as @inairbinad's Petals in a Storm (which people should go read).

Anyway, here's some extremely fluffy and domestic older!Steddie, with Eddie as a genre fiction/horror editor, in 735 words! Extremely brief and vague mention of a monster eating something's guts.

---

Red-marked pages lay scattered everywhere, solely illuminated by the hulking, faintly buzzing computer monitor that took up a good half of Eddie’s desk. Lips pursed and eyes narrowed, he held up a sheaf of papers with one hand, the other holding his pen to his mouth while he gnawed on the end. He distantly thought that if he kept chewing the pen might break and he’d look much like the monster currently being described in the chapter before him, red dripping down its chin. It was the third time the author had used the word ‘viscera’ in the same paragraph, and while pens didn’t have guts he knew that the ink would probably taste just as bad as that would. But as the monster was, apparently, ‘gleefully gorging’ on the aforementioned viscera, it probably wouldn’t agree.

He put the pages back down on the pile in front of him and scribbled out a few notes – “less viscera, more… entrails, gore, innards perhaps!” – then hunched over the words to continue reading about how the creature turned its horrifying visage towards the protagonist.

Editing was, mostly, the best job Eddie's ever had. Sure, it could be a slog to wade through a sea of purple literary prose or a desert of adjective-less, action-less nonfiction. Those were part of the job (though he’d grown enough to admit that sometimes he found gems even outside his beloved genre fiction tastes), and something he had to endure before he could climb his way to the fiction department. This, though, a carnage-filled horror romp? This was his bread and butter, his home away from home, his shit. Hell, it had been his life once upon a time. Getting to help up-and-coming authors improve their craft with his own love of storytelling and his lived, horrific experiences was awesome. It was one of the things that made March of ‘86 worth the terror and pain and scars.

Eddie was still slouched over the chapter, making note of a few misspellings, and so fully absorbed in his work that he didn’t hear the door to the office creak open. Hadn’t even heard the knock that preceded it. What he did notice was the plate being slid directly on top of the paper, a flaky croissant placed right in the centre, and Eddie suddenly realised he was really fucking hungry.

“How’s my favourite Eddie-tor doing?” Steve asked.

Eddie’s head fell back with the weight of the agony the pun caused and heard a few vertebrae pop. Glaring, he said, “That pun wasn’t funny the first fifty times you said it, sweetheart.”

“I haven’t said it that much.” Despite his defensiveness, Steve still looked entirely too amused at himself, smirking down at Eddie. The hallway light backlit him, casting him in a near halo of soft warmth, contrasted by the pale glare of the computer screen that highlighted his face and caught on the few grey hairs beginning to show.

Steve was gorgeous still, maybe even more so after over two decades together. Worry lines and laugh lines alike brought a kind of charm and dignity to his face, and just the sight of those silvery strands in his hair always got Eddie feeling emotional. They were proof they’d survived. That it was over. That they could grow old, safely and with each other. He called them mithril just to see Steve’s nose scrunch and eyes roll at his references.

“Okay,” Eddie conceded, “maybe just forty times.”

Though he scoffed, Steve stepped closer and wrapped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “You’ve been locked away in here for five hours, babe, you should get up and stretch. Or at least turn on the light.”

“But overhead lights are the work of the devil, Steve, you know this. I can’t work under those conditions.” Eddie gave a shit-eating grin as Steve, with a deadpan expression, flicked on his desk lamp. “Oh yeah. Forgot that was there.” He had. Really.

“You’re so annoying,” Steve sighed, but Eddie saw the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You love it.”

The smile spread like the affection in Eddie’s chest at the sight. Steve bent down again, this time capturing Eddie’s lips in a sweet, slow, familiar kiss that made his toes curl just as much as any hungry, needy kiss would. Barely pulling back, Steve whispered, “Yeah. I do.”

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #ficlet #sav scrawls stuff #that's gonna be my writing tag

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kidney9-9 · 1 year

Text

Not Today Mister - Chapter 5

hope you enjoy thank you for reading! Masterlist

Aizawa was exhausted. His class had been acting up lately due to them moving into dorms and things were still being sorted out with him moving into the dorms too. His floor had a few other staff members, and thankfully the dorm was more of like an apartment.

He kept his apartment outside of UA too, knowing he’d need it to crash in case he needed to and was outside of school grounds.

There was one other new problem he had to take care of too.

And that was you – the cute school janitor. He only saw you a few times during the past week but each time, you freaked out, shouting “Excuse me!” to him. There wasn’t anything wrong with that of course, but it was kind of bugging him to know that the school janitor didn’t like being near him.

He had watched silently in the shadows of you interacting with other people at the school too. He wanted to make sure that you were just doing this to him and not to other people. And he was right about it, that you only acted that way around him. He thought in the past about anything he might have done wrong around you and the other janitorial staff that used to work here.

He could only think that you didn’t like him because of the mess that Class 1-A leaves behind in each room. He grit his teeth together, thinking about them. They were a pain in the ass, but he loved those kids. They would be great heroes if he trained them to be.

He knew he had to work on Class 1-A for you to stop acting that way around him. Therefore, his plans for the day involved something more intense than usual. He hated that he felt inadequate as a teacher because someone is disappointed with his kids. He had to do better.

Your day was going great! No Aizawa, no problem. You snickered to yourself, knowing his schedule was the best possible move you did in this game. Aya was a great help even if she didn’t know why you asked for the advice in the first place.

You considered reaching out to Nezu to hire some more day janitors to help you accomplish your goal, but then thought back against it, wondering if he’d decrease your pay considering you are being paid at least seven times the amount you used to be paid…

Yes, Nezu was a great boss.

Now however, you had to deal with other staff and students being around you since your usual schedule was screwed.

“Miss! Miss!” A student came up to you, running in the middle of the hallway. It was class time, so it was unusual.

You glanced over at her, nodding, “Yeah, what’s up?” Your casual tone made her sigh in relief slightly.

“Well… we were messing around in English class with our teacher. He didn’t notice it at first, but then he turned around…and now half the class is stuck in the air and the other is tangled in my friend’s ears.” The girl, Mina Ashido explained.

“Ears?” You clued out, eyebrows rising up to the ceiling.

“Ears.” She confirmed.

When you walked into the classroom, it was an incredible mess of noise full of screaming and laughter and groaning of pain.

“Uh, hello?” You mumbled to yourself mostly, wondering if you were just hallucinating if this was happening.

“Guys, I got someone!” Mina shouted over all the noise and instantly the class quieted down.

There, the mess was insane.

Present Mic, also known as Hizashi Yamada, was wrapped in some sort of… ears. As you narrowed your eyes at the mess, it was the student Kyoka Jiro, hero name, Earphone Jack, who was the source of the ears. Her earlobes or the earphones attached had grown to an admirable length and wrapped around Present Mic’s entire body, then around a few other classmates.

The rest of the classmates were floating in the air, all the way up into a corner, screaming for dear help.

“This is…crazy.” You said to Mina, who stared at the mess with a huff of laughter.

“I’m glad I found you and not Mr. Aizawa. He would have killed us in training.” She groaned, grinning at you.

“So, how are you going to fix this?” She asked, making you sputter out a few random words of nonsense.

“Fix? This? This is fixable?” You coughed, shaking your head.

“I clean things, I don’t fix things.” You continued but you shook your head, “But I can try.” You needed to try before they brought Aizawa along. You didn’t want to sit here looking like an idiot who didn’t know what to do.

Present Mic had been staring at you, pleadingly, unable to use his voice since the earphones wrapped around his mouth and throat tightly. The speakers connected to him were broken entirely, and twitches of electricity spouted from them.

“Ok, let’s get this class to the ground, who’s responsible for that?” You asked, raising your voice slightly.

A young girl raised her hand fearfully, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make them all go up, but that’s the only thing I could do to help since we’d be attached to the ears if we didn’t do this.” Ochaco Uraraka spoke up.

You grinned at her, trying to ease her fear. “It’s alright. I get it. But we should let everyone down now and we’ll lead them out of the class, so Earphone Jack won’t get them. Also, why is Earphone Jack doing this?” Your questions led you to face her, who had been hiding underneath her desk.

She glimpsed at you with slight annoyance.

“I got angry.” She explained briefly. You nodded, realizing that was all you were going to get out of her.

“Have you guys tried untangling it?” Before you finished your question, a bunch of shouts came, “YES”, “OBVIOUSLY”, “YEAH”.

“…How?” You ask, sheepishly. You placed your cart on the floor, the one filled with supplies for cleaning.

A few different replies came but the one that caught you by surprise the most was from Shoto Todoroki, who explained, “We tried attacking a few different ways. I tried to use my ice and heat to get her to retread but she won’t. We’ve tried a lot.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at them, a feeling of shock and anger flashing through you, “Guys!” You shouted.

You never thought they’d attack each other, but apparently, they would. “You are not allowed to attack other students like that. I thought the hero students would know that especially! How would you like it if all your classmates attacked you for some reason? I’m sorry Earphone Jack.” You apologize deeply to her, which you received a sigh from.

“Now, let’s try a kinder and gentler response. You guys are supposed to be heroes soon. What’s another way heroes can help save the day? By rescue, right? But how do you do that to people that are freaked out?” You try your best to explain, and everyone collectively stares at each other and then back to you with a small, “Ohhh…”

“Are you also a hero?” One timid voice pops up, you recognize it as Tsuyu Asui, when you shake your head, “No.” A few people grumble, “But you act like one.”

Slowly but surely, the gravity girl got the people that were floating out of the room. A few of them were shouting, especially that one kid that you ran into before. You were sure you heard an explosion from outside, but you ignored it for now.

“Earphone Jack… or Jiro if I may.” You spoke up, kneeling down by her.

“How can I help you?” You asked, glancing at her as she covered her ears as if she were in pain.

“I just need help detangling it, please don’t let them attack me again, my ears did that because they attacked.” She explained, huffing out a sigh of relief, that someone was finally helping her. You nodded back to her in understanding and went to start detangling. It felt weird to detangle these ears? Earphones? You weren’t sure what to call them, but you did it as fast and efficiently as you could.

By the time you got to Hizashi, he was sweating like crazy. Finally, you unwrapped it around his neck and his mouth, and he took a deep breath in through his mouth, then coughed to the side of you.

“Oh – thank – you – so very much.” He coughed out, voice flat and whispery, you could hear the pain in it.

“No problem.” You mumbled back, frowning as he clutched his throat.

“Never speaking Spanish to her again!” He muttered harshly, and it was so unexpected that you laughed loudly, bending down to your knees.

“Spanish? This is why this happened?” You got out through your laughter as he stared down at you with a kind smile on his lips.

“Yeah, and they were playing a prank on me apparently, so it all just went bad.” As if that explained everything. You just laughed again and stood up, shaking your head.

“Got it.” You respond.

“Now is someone going to tell me what’s going on in here? Why are you so loud that it woke me up?” Aizawa’s voice rang out in the air, and you tensed up.

Oh no.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #aizawa shota x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #thank you for reading!

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gritsandbrits · 2 months

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Adam Learns Feminism (Hazbin x OC Drabble)

Summary: Avaline tries to help great grampy Adam unpack his misogyny. Familial, not a Romance Ship. Adam x Granddaughter!OC.

🎸

Avaline slammed a stack of books down on the table in front of Adam.

"The hell are these?" He asked, his voice muffled with food.

"Since you seem to forget what it's like to be human, I thought I'd give you a refresher," replied Avaline perkily.

Adam grabbed the book on top and read the title out loud.

"The Feminine Mystique. What's so mystique about women? I had that shit figured out ages ago!" Boasted the fallen angel.

"Aw yes, cuz women love being called the b word," the blonde human retorted with a roll of her eyes. She remembered the times he'd stop by her mom's workplace and scared off her female coworkers. All except one but they all didn't like her, Adam included.

"Anyways I took it upon myself to teach you how to understand our gender better. So you won't go around calling random strangers names, and respect women's boundaries."

"Please, as someone who lived thousands of years I don't need to relearn stuff I already know," huffed the First Man.

"Besides the ladies love me. You should've seen me back in the day they were crawling all over me and LOVING IT!"

"Says the guy who got divorced twice and has a pick me for a girlfriend," snarked Evan as she walked past them towards the fridge. She ignored Adam's indignant cry and opened up the fridge, only to groan miserably when she didn't find what she was hoping for.

"Hey who ate up the lamb chops!"

She looked at the table and saw bones on Adam's plate.

"Should've ate them when you had the chance," he tsked. As if to rub it in he started to gnaw on the bone with the most meat.

Evan's eyes narrowed. "Fat ass!"

"You make it sound like it belongs to you did it have your name on it?" Adam grinned.

Evan huffed and went arouns fir more food. She grabbed a couple luscious green apples, still arguing with Adam over the ownership of the leftovers.

"Y'all stop," Ava sighed as she took a seat beside Adam. "I'm tryin to help him be more conscious,"

"Good luck with that," said Evan. "The old bastard is so set in his ways, it'll probably take till the final judgement to get him to change his mind."

Adam felt insulted. "Hey are you trying to say I'm unable to change?!"

"I mean you said the same thing about Charlie and look how THAT turned out," Evan replied, gesturing to the Sinner's lackluster appearance.

"I take great offence to your statement!" Adam shot back.

Ava sighed again. No wonder Abel left, she said to herself. "Look it's not going to take all day, we'll start with reading a few chapters each week, then increase as we go along," Ava explained.

"Y'all have fun," she waved goodbye and left the kitchen.

"But grampy you have to learn go be mores respectful to women if you want to have a better chance at keeping them," Ava pointed out.

"Now we can keep arguing and lose progress or..." She left that statement unfinished

"Or?" Adam challenged.

"Or I'm telling Grandma Cass you ate the rest of her pork chops." Ava pointed at the empty plate.

Fear struck Adam in the chest. He hated the old bat. He'd rather marry the gremlin who stabbed him than spend a single minute with the elderly fool.

But since Cass was the mother of his granddaughter Flora, and the only other person willing to house him on Earth, he had no choice but to respect her.

He grumbled, cursing the feminist mystery and uppity teenagers. Great now his afternoon would be taken up by modern day bullshit!

Ava showed him a few chapters and read them out loud. The whole time Adam sitting with his head in his hand bored out of his mind.

The Feminarchy Mystic, whatever it's called, was an beloved book by human standards, and a stale one by his standard. Ava said its significance is why she decided to start with it first.

After an hour Avaline decided it was time to end the session.

"Alright class let's see what we've got." Adam pushed his paper to show her what he had written.

"I'M SORRY WOMAN." scribbled in hasty, near ineligible mess. The rest of the paper were childlike doodles Adam drew of himself, and strangling Lucifer with lilith and eve cheering him from the background

Ava's mouth twisted in an awkward smile. "It's a start."

#hazbin hotel adam #hazbin oc #fanfiction #drabble #oc x canon #platonic oc x canon #oc: avaline #oc: evangeline #nothing like bonding with your conservative grandfather than reading time #hazbin hotel #hazbin tag #hazbin rewrite

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snowbellewells · 12 days

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Happy Happy Birthday Jennifer!! @whimsicallyenchantedrose

So, while I wasn’t able to write you a brand new birthday story this year, I thought it might be fun to highlight my all-time favorites of your stories. You were the first fandom friend I met and interacted with, we talked the show and plot points and character development together, and you helped me begin to navigate Tumblr back when I first joined. It’s been a gift to know you all that time, and your writing is a gift to us all! You’ve written so many GREAT stories that it was hard to narrow down, but I have settled on my top half dozen at last to highlight for your special day -- with some cover art for a few of them!!! 💖 Hope this gift serves to remind you of all you’ve written and created and how much all of it - and you!! - are loved. 🥰

The Strongest Magic - This short MC is one of your very early works - a Neverland season 3a divergent tale, but where it diverges gives us powerful adventure and emotion, sacrifice, and much earlier admission and acceptance of the love between our Pirate and Princess. I simply adore it - it squeezes your heart for sure, but it also wraps you up in a wonderful happy ending by the time you are finished.

A Wish Your Heart Makes , Getting to I Do & Mysterious Fathoms Below - This series of longer, connected multi-chapters (The "By Land or By Sea" trilogy) is simply EPIC!!! I don't know how to sing the praises of this story half as much as it deserves. There's adventure in the Enchanted Forest, Camelot, and even under the sea! There's so much beautiful love story for CS (and even some lovely, redemptive Outlaw Queen as well), and @whimsicallyenchantedrose even incorporates some unexpected and perfectly cast characters of myth and legend and her own creation alongside our faves. I don't want to give too much away, but these stories MUST BE read! Once you do, you'll want to read them over and over again.

Happily Ever After - This short MC was originally part of your Fluffy Fridays compilation, and I have often revisited the few chapters of this on their own and definitely think of them as their own little stand-alone story. I love the family recipes, the competition, the rivalry that becomes something much sweeter.... it's a truly delicious addition to your collection of writing!

Caribbean Shores - This lovely little MC reads more like a modern day AU, though they are in Storybrooke and many of our favorite characters still appear. I love the cute sweetness of this one, and the adorable addition of a few scheming cuties from MM's class when she takes them for a field trip tour of the Jolly Roger from Killian. ;) All the sizzle and attraction is there for Emma and Killian right from the start, and though she tries to resist (Why is she always so stubborn?!?) She can't do it for long...

Under the Apple Tree - It's hard to even express how much I adore this fic originally written between season six and season seven of canon. The way @whimsicallyenchantedrose wove in what we knew might be coming in season seven and then supposed what still could happen (a lot of which I would have loved to really see!) is simply brilliant. I love the relationships explored and the way the plot unfolds. It's a special and unique version of our beloved characters, and of course the unstoppable power of Captain Swan to always find each other again is fully on display too! ;p

Until the Stars are all Alight - Wow, this story must have been such a daunting task to undertake - one I would have been afraid to tackle, but the skill with which the OuaT world and the LotR world are woven together, how the plotlines come together and reach fruition, and how the characters coincide for best use so seamlessly is truly admirable and just adds to the depth and power of this full multi-chapter adventure. It has heart and hope and True Love conquering all - all the best things we love so much from the world of fairy tales and the brain of J.R. R. Tolkien!

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sereinegemini · 10 months

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Two Dark Princes ₊⋆ ☾

— Chapter VIII

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader x Théodore Nott

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Two years after Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord during the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts and most of the Wizarding World has returned to normal. But, F/n’s mundane life is flipped upside down after she learns that two of her best friends, Draco and Theo, are secretly in love with her. When this knowledge begins to affect her relationships, she is faced with difficult decisions, each one laced with promised heartache and the potential to awaken an unexpected darkness

Warnings: mention of death, mention of childhood trauma

Hogwarts

Sunday, May 4, 1997

“Voldemort’s gone, F/n,” Draco said stiffly. Those were his first words to you since you’d ended things with Cedric. Apparently, the possibility of the most powerful dark wizard of all time coming back superseded any resentment he still felt. Though his attention stayed fixed on picking at his comforter—the one you’d all been perfectly content on by the lake not even a month ago.

“I know, but he’s come back once before. What if somehow he survived that night during the Tournament?” You knew it sounded crazy. There was no proof that it had been anything but a dream, but you knew it was more than that. You just did. All you needed was for them to believe that, too.

His gray eyes finally flicked to where you were sat cross-legged on Theo’s bed. You focused on breathing. “Let’s say he did survive; why did he enter your mind? Why would he be targeting you?”

You merely blinked at him. You had no clue.

He quirked a brow when you opened your mouth and closed it again. You should smack him.

“It doesn’t matter why he did it,” Theo snapped, “We need to focus on doing something to prevent it from happening again.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Four sixth-years blocking the most powerful dark wizard from my mind; just another Sunday morning.” Your voice edged on hysterical. You were seventeen years old, why were you being faced with something like this? Though, to be fair, Harry Potter had dealt with Voldemort at much younger ages. You were starting to understand him a bit more. “I think we should ask Harry for help.”

Theo and Draco were watching you with creased brows. You couldn’t really read their thoughts. “I agree,” Blaise said, “Harry dealt with You-Know-Who for years under the school’s noses. He’s bound to know something to help.”

“Well, the Chosen One can work on getting rid of Voldemort. F/n and I are going to work on keeping him out of her head.” Draco’s voice was stiff and determined. No matter how much you’d hurt him and he tried not to, he cared about you and your safety. His eyes darted up to yours. “You up for some Occlumency lessons?”

A few hours later, you and Draco were facing a blank wall. Harry had been distressed by the news of your so-called ‘dream,’ instantly deciding the best thing would be to go to Dumbledore. He’d also agreed it’d be best for you to learn how to block Voldemort from your mind, for the safety of plans as well as your own.

“So, where’s the door then?”

Draco let out a humored breath. “It’s the Room of Requirement, the door only appears if you require the room.”

You looked at him with your brows raised. “And we do require it, so where’s the door?”

He simply nodded his head towards the wall, and when you turned back to it a tall double door stood where there were formerly bricks. He was such a smart-ass sometimes.

When you crossed the threshold, you were met with a room softly lit by narrow windows and a lambent fire. The cream colored walls were filled with serene landscape paintings; the kind you’d study and imagine yourself dozing happily in the grass.

“Does it always look like this?” you asked, plopping down on one of the two caramel leather couches sat across from each other.

“No, the room designs itself based on the needs of the user. We needed a space where you could clear your head, and it provided.” The magic had followed the assignment to a t; this room was the definition of minimalistic. No clutter, no distractions.

“Alright, let’s get to it, then.” You crossed your knees, looking at him expectantly. His pale hair and complexion contrasted handsomely with his black t-shirt. Like day and night. Maybe there was one distraction. “What do I need to do?”

He was completely unaware of your internal ambivalence. “Well, the main goal is to be able to shut down your mind so there isn’t anything to find when Legilimens force their way in.”

“Oh, yeah, piece of cake.”

Draco looked unamused by the sarcasm dripping in your voice. He paced in front of the fire. “Occlumency is one of the hardest branches of magic to master, F/n. I want you to take this seriously. Voldemort’s power is no joke, and his Legilimency is no exception.”

Your heart raced at the thought. Voldemort had been terrifying enough in your ‘dream,’ you couldn’t imagine the crushing weight of his presence in person. “Where do I even start?” Your voice was small. Scared.

For a split second Draco seemed caught off guard before his steel armor reformed. “To start off with, you should try visualizing your thoughts and emotions being locked away. The most common visuals would be doors, vaults, even books. It doesn’t matter what you choose, as long as it works.”

“What about you?”

There it was again, the armor crumbling before repairing itself. He cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

“Someone’s taught you this, haven’t they? What do you visualize?”

Draco turned towards the fire, hands stuffed into his pockets. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he wanted it that way. It was easier for him to open up if he wasn’t looking at you. Just like the night he kissed you in the Astronomy tower. “My Aunt Bellatrix taught me before I started school. She was one of Voldemort’s most devoted followers. As you know, it cost her in the end..” Bellatrix Lestrange had jumped in front of Harry’s spell at the very second Voldemort was casting the Killing Curse. She lost her life to the very Wizard she’d lived for. “But her devotion makes it mean so much more that she wanted to protect me from him. When I was learning to close off my mind I- I shut the pieces of myself behind doors identical to the door of my father’s office. It was what my adolescent self considered an unreachable place.”

You imagined a young Draco, craving the attention and praise of his father. Only to be kept from him by a mere door. It made your heart ache.

Saying nothing, you silently crossed the room to stand in front of him. His head was bowed, his eyes scrunched shut with pain. His hands were bunched into fists in his pockets. Reaching up, you ran your thumb over his cheek. His subtle flinch quickly turned to him leaning into your touch. You were uncertain if you imagined the quiet whimper that escaped him. It broke your heart regardless.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Draco’s head next to yours. He held you tight, breathing in the scent of your hair. And just standing there holding him, you could feel the tension and emotions roll off his shoulders. No words were needed. It reminded you of your mother—how she would hold you in this same way and just being in her arms made it feel as if the world and it’s worries had slipped away.

“Candles,” you whispered.

“Hm?” Draco hummed in question, pulling back enough to look at you. His eyes were droopy with a sense of ease.

“You know how my mother owns a candle shop? She’s made candles and been fascinated with their properties since before I was born. It’s her own magic in a way. I want to use candles for my Occlumency.”

One might say it’s selfish that you were sharing a loving sentiment about your mother right after Draco opened up to you about his strained relationship with his father. But they wouldn’t know what they’re talking about. To the two of you, that way of thinking is what’s selfish. You were both there for each other, and sympathy needn’t be expressed to be sensed.

“That’s a great idea, F/n.” He smiled. “Form candles out of your memories and hide them among the shelves. Being formed from a powerful emotion will make them even sturdier.”

“Like…now?” Your voice was just over a whisper. That was easier said than done.

Chuckling, Draco took your hand and led you to one of the couches. “Get in a comfortable position and relax your body and mind.” You did as he said, laying on the plush leather and doing a few deep breathes. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “Now, visualize yourself in your mind-space. Build up your mother’s shop and leave the shelves empty for your use.” His voice was soothing and quiet, it remind you of a yoga instructor you once saw in– F/n. Focus.

Taking another deep breath in through your nose, you imagined yourself. At first, you stood in a blank space. It reminded you of your ‘dream,’ but the space was made of light instead of darkness. Then, at your will, the shop started materializing from the floor up. Soon, it was like you were truly there. The Ebony wood floors transitioning into the ceiling-high shelves awaiting your creations. The work table—a circular counter with materials taking up every inch—stood dead center atop a plum colored rug. You wondered how no one looked twice at your mother, her shop had a very Witchy vibe.

“Got it.” Your voice sounded distant, echoey.

“Good, good. Try something small first.” Draco’s voice was much like your own, far off in some other place. Like disembodied Gods of this dimension you’d built inside your head. “A small, meaningless memory.”

You were in the backyard of your family home, picking Dandelions so your mom could weave them into a crown for you. Imagining the memory as a marble, you willed a yellow candle to form in the container. A hole was left at the top of the already dried wax, and when you dropped the memory into the center of the candle it sealed itself off with a wick. Definitely not how candles are actually made. But efficient.

« Chapter Seven || Masterlist || Chapter Nine »

Author’s Note: I’m sorry for the gap between updates I’m the worst ahh

Be notified of future chapters!

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter story #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott fanfiction #theodore nott #theo x reader #draco x reader x theo

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iprobablyshipit91 · 1 year

Text

Words Unsaid

Part 5

Genre: romance / mutual pining / fluff / angst / royal au

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Again, a few swears in this one and mentions of sex. However there will be some major triggers in later chapters. These will be tagged appropriately on the relevant chapters, but please only read if you’re of age and comfortable.

Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Series Masterlist || SPN Masterlist

Previous || Next

Hopefully things are getting interesting here!

After dinner you are back in your quarters readying yourself for bed. The look on Dean’s face before he stormed back into the kitchen is haunting you, playing on repeat in your mind. His emerald eyes burning into your own with anger and something that looked oddly like hopelessness. An odd sinking feeling settles into the pit of your stomach and you’re not sure what to think anymore.

With a sigh you sit at your dressing table, chewing your lip as you start to brush your hair more roughly than necessary, when a strange scraping noise catches your attention from your balcony, followed by a series of grunts. You turn on your stool to face the open window before curiosity gets the better of you and you find yourself standing and slowly creeping towards it with bated breath. Before you get there though, Dean is suddenly tumbling over the balustrade with a yelp.

He rolls a few times, finally coming to a stop face first by your feet, chest heaving with the exertion from the climb. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you regard him with wide eyes. After a few moments he finally rolls over, sweat mopping his brow and eyes still closed as he winces at the movement.

"What on Earth are you doing?"

He cracks one green eye open and gives you a cocky smirk. "That was a hell of a lot easier when I was younger."

A smile twitches at your lips despite yourself, and so you offer a hand to help pull him up. Back when you were younger, he used to sneak into your quarters almost every night so you could continue your adventures. Whether it be having furious sword fights, or pretending to be pirates on the high seas. Occasionally Sam would also join him, but more often then not, it was just the two of you. Most of the time you would end up falling asleep together on the floor, waking in the morning back in your bed with Dean’s freckled face on the pillow next to yours. Perhaps your parents just thought he would try to climb up again, so they tucked him in next to you.

That hadn’t happened for well over ten years though.

"What are you doing here?"

He stands and dusts himself down as you cross your arms over your chest, and suddenly become very conscious of the fact that you are only wearing your night gown. You turn on your heel, entering your room and fetching your robe. You turn back to find him just behind you, having followed you in from the balcony. He arches an eyebrow as you tug the robe quickly over you.

"No need to get decent for me, Sweetheart." The flirty grin is fixed firmly in place but doesn’t reach his eyes. His innuendo is lacking somewhat and you can’t help but notice that he just looks tired.

You roll your eyes anyway, always eager to play this game with him. "The maid's quarters are two windows over."

It's a cheap shot and you know it. You see him recoil, as if your words were a physical blow and see the shock on his face.

"I told you I was sorry about that."

You tilt your head at him and cross your arms again. "No, actually, you didn't." He opens his mouth to keep arguing but you stop him with your hand. You sigh. You really didn’t want to get into this tonight. "But you don't have to okay, I get it."

He narrows his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing. "Get what exactly?"

You sigh again. "Why are you here?" You repeat.

"What do you get?" He retaliates.

"What do you want?" You counter.

You stare each other down, both stubborn and unwilling to back down. You move your hands to your waist while he taps his foot and huffs impatiently.

"I get that you don't want me like that." You say finally, the words feeling like razor blades as they leave your mouth, tearing you up from the inside out. It still hurts more than you thought possible. "And I'm sorry I forced myself on you."

He looks angry again, his eyes turning a shade darker in the dim light. "You didn't force yourself on me, I'm a bloody grown adult and I chose to kiss you back."

You feel your heart start hammering in your chest and your hands are shaking as you struggle to process his words. "What?"

"You heard me." He growls deeply.

"Then why-"

"Because you're a princess!" He roars suddenly, his green eyes burning furiously as he throws his arms up. He stomps towards you and grips your shoulders tight, almost bruising in his frustration "I know you fucking hate it when anyone points that out to you, but the fact of the matter is, you're a royal."

The way he says royal causes your skin to crawl and you hate the look in his eyes. He is turning into someone you don’t even recognise, right in front of you. He towers over you, your chest flush against his. And while this is certainly no time for those kind of thoughts, your belly clenches involuntarily, remembering the last time you were pressed together like this.

"So what’s your point?" You mutter, your own anger causing your voice to be tight. His eyes scan your face and then he releases you, his hand coming to scrub angrily down his face. You stumble as he releases you, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. He didn't hurt you, but your skin is burning where his fingers wrapped around you.

He frowns, eyes following the motion. "My point being, Sweetheart." His eyes finally meet yours and your surprised to see all the anger has evaporated leaving behind total hopelessness and devastation. "You have no future with a useless kitchen-bound orphan."

His words ring in your ears as silence falls over the room. He isn't looking at you anymore, instead choosing to look anywhere but you - the floor, your bed, your dresser. You gape at him, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find a response to the simple statement.

And with stunning clarity, it all suddenly makes sense.

He didn't apologise for the kiss because he didn't want you - he apologised to push you away. To protect himself. Because he thought he couldn't be with you.

"You're a fool." You are shaking as an anger like you’ve never known grips your entire body. His eyes snap up and you watch as a sneer masks his face.

"Don't need the reminder, Sweetheart. I'm very aware I don't stand a chance in-"

"Shut up." You yell, seething with anger and his mouth closes abruptly. He is looking at you warily now as your whole body vibrates with anger. You clench your fists at your sides and take a step towards him.

"You made me feel like I was nothing." You poke his chest hard, voice shaking but you can't find the strength to steady it. Anger courses through your veins like fire. "All because you thought up some bizarre scenario in which you aren't worthy of my affection?"

Anger flashes in his eyes. "It's not a scenario, Sweetheart, this is-"

"Shut. Up." You pause, and he stares at you, mouth obediently silent. "You made me doubt myself! You made me think that everything I felt was one-sided! You hid things from me!"

"Of course I hid things from you!" He yells back and this is good. This is better. If he is yelling, you don’t have to stop and think about what all of this means. You are vaguely aware that your shouting is not at all inconspicuous, but you really couldn't care any less. "Do you think I wanted to tell you all about how I tried to fuck away my feelings for you?" You freeze but he plows on. "As previously mentioned, you are a royal, Sweetheart."

"Stop saying that!" You scream. You hate the way he says it, like your garbage beneath his feet.

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you how I think about you all the fucking time? Do you want me to tell you how I only sleep with other girls because I want you out of my god damn head, for just one peaceful moment? Your father found me and Sam abandoned in the damn forest! My own father knew I wasn’t worth a damn when my mother died and hightailed it out of there as quickly as he could" The sudden change in subject leaves you breathless and you gape at him. He’s never once spoken of how he and Sam came to them. All you know is that one day, when you were very small, your father brought home two little boys. And ever since then, Dean and Sam had worked and lived in the castle under the care of Jody.

The mask is back and you take a step backwards. He advances on you. "That's right, poor little Dean Winchester, mother dead and abandoned by his own father to look after his kid brother. Picked up out of pity by the King." His eyes are wild and impossibly bright, the emerald in utter turmoil. "You're a royal and I am-" He swallows, self-loathing and disgust written all over his face. "I am nothing. I can't have you."

His chest is heaving as he turns away from you. “Son of a bitch!” He growls out as he hits a beam in anger and your shock suddenly gives way to a new wave of anger. "You can't have me? You can't have me?" You yank his shoulder to turn him back to face you and he stumbles around. "Like I am some possession to be tossed about and traded?" You push him and he grabs both your wrists.

You look up at him and you are just so angry that fat, hot tears well in your eyes. "I make my own decisions, Dean. You of all people should understand that."

"Not this one." He mutters quietly. "Your ball-"

"Was my decision, Dean! To secure trade relations with another realm." You swallow hard. "My parents didn’t have an arranged marriage and I thought you knew them better than to think they would arrange mine. And if you bothered to speak to me about how you felt, instead of manipulating me and my emotions, you would know how I felt about it too."

Dean blinks as you wrench your arms out of his grasp and take a step back. "That still doesn't mean I can court you, I'm still beneath you in –"

"Nothing about this kingdom is traditional." You shout arms flaying around. "God, Dean, I go to the tavern and take sword lessons! I help in the kitchens now and again, and in the fields with the harvest. Why on Earth wouldn't I be able to be courted by whoever I damn well please?"

You stare at each other silently and you absolutely hate yourself when you feel a tear slide down your cheek. You angrily wipe it away.

"A man should fight for what he wants. Otherwise he deserves exactly what he gets." You whisper with a sneer, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster. This is what it all boils down to though. He didn't want to fight for you.

"I think you should leave." You say.

He suddenly jolts, his eyes going from your feet to your face. A steely resolve settles on his features and he takes a purposeful step towards you. "No."

Annoyance takes a hold of you and you sigh, you can feel the pressure behind your eyes and know you want to cry some more. "Dean, I can't-"

"No." He says again, cutting you off and taking another step forward. He reaches out to you, one hand finding your hip, the other landing on the side of your neck. His eyes are drinking you in, wide and desperate.

"What are you doing?" You whisper and your heart is in your throat. He is so close to you that you can smell the faint whiff of whiskey on his breath - he must have been down at the tavern.

His nose touches yours gently as he pulls you towards him, fingers flexing against your skin.

"I'm fighting for what I want." He whispers.

And then he is kissing you.

Tags:

@deans-spinster-witch

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #royal au #au #spn fanfiction #spn #spn fanfic #dean x reader #mutual pining #Princess reader #iprobablyshipit91 writes #words unsaid

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hudine · 6 months

Text

This is another Doctor Who - Witcher crossover I’ve got the first chapter done on. This takes place in the same multiverse as my other Doctor Who fic sideways parenthood only 300 years later. You don’t have to have read it but it would help explain who Jaskier is more. He’s one of Rose and Ten’s twin boys who has accidentally got stuck in the Witcher universe and has basically been waiting for three decades for someone in his family to answer a distress call but the TARDIS got herself mixed up and brought Ten there at the wrong point of the timeline.

Forby all of that it’s basically wrote as a Doctor Who story. People have been going missing with mysterious lights being seen in the area. Geralt picks up a contract to go investigate followed by his loyal bard companion who is acting shifty.

Sideways Parenthood

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The evening sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets as Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier entered the quaint village. The last rays of sunlight glinted off the Witcher's medallion as it swayed with each step. Murmurs of ‘Witcher’ echoed from villagers who noticed the white-haired traveler, while others whispered about the peculiar bard with him.

Jaskier, ever the observer, glanced around, noting the nervous chatter and occasional fearful looks from the locals. "Geralt," he began, his voice tinged with unease, "Have you noticed? This place… it feels off."

Geralt grunted, his gaze scanning the surroundings. "I've been in my share of strange places. But yes, something's not right."

"The lights," Jaskier continued, twirling a feathered quill between his fingers. "I've heard stories from other villages about odd lights in the sky. You know, like those elven tales? But this... feels different."

Geralt's yellow eyes narrowed as he looked up at the twilight sky. "I've been hired to investigate. But I suspect it's not just some simple spectre or creature."

Jaskier's thoughts whirled. He harboured suspicions he wasn't prepared to reveal. Despite his human appearance, Jaskier was, in fact, a Time Lord—a mere three hundred years old, young by Time Lord standards. He currently resided in a pocket universe nestled between several larger ones, all interlinked by temporal rifts. In essence, he had been cast adrift in the multiverse's vast currents. He had dispatched a distress signal to his family, but given the time-space distortions generated by the surging rift energy—locally termed as ‘chaos’—he couldn't be certain they'd receive it. His father, the Doctor, once fell prey to a world that devoured TARDISes in a similar pocket universe, making him particularly wary of such distress signals. Jaskier hoped he'd at least investigate, because if not, his mother, Rose Tyler, might very well hasten his next regeneration. Yet, there had been no sign of the Doctor or of Jaskier's siblings, his twin brother Johnny and older brother Zaiden, or even his grandfather, Narvin. The tale of Narvin's identity, tied to the Time Lords fleeing the war and temporarily becoming human, added another layer of complexity. In this intricate web of identities, Narvin had assumed the guise of Pete Tyler, Rose's father.

As the two walked towards the centre of the village, an old woman, clutching a shawl around her, approached. "Witcher! I've seen them lights! They're bad omens, they are," she croaked.

Geralt nodded, listening intently. "Where did you see them?"

She pointed to the eastern edge of the village. "Over by the woods. Just after sundown. But not just lights. Shadows, too. Moving shadows that don’t belong to any creature of this land."

Jaskier felt a chill run down his spine. "Thank you," he said, offering her a reassuring smile. "We'll look into it."

The old woman hobbled away, muttering prayers under her breath.

Jaskier leaned closer to Geralt. "Moving shadows? That doesn’t sound like any creature you've fought."

Geralt simply replied, "Every contract is a mystery until it's solved." But even he couldn't deny the growing unease.

Jaskier sighed, his gaze drifting towards the woods. Unbeknownst to Geralt, the bard's hearts raced with a mixture of fear and excitement. This was no ordinary mystery, and deep down, Jaskier wondered if he was on the brink of a reunion he hadn't expected when he followed Geralt here.

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With a familiar grinding noise, the blue police box materialised at the edge of the village square. The door creaked open, and out stepped The Doctor, his brown trench coat flapping as he stretched, followed by Donna Noble, her red hair catching the last remnants of sunlight.

"Oi! Where have you brought us now, spaceman?" Donna exclaimed, looking around, a mix of curiosity and skepticism evident on her face.

The Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver, pointing it skyward. "Somewhere... interesting. Temporal disturbances, Donna. Time's gone a bit wibbly-wobbly."

Donna rolled her eyes. "Oh, not that phrase again. Can't you just once say, 'Donna, I've got no bloody idea what's going on'?"

The Doctor grinned cheekily. "Where would be the fun in that?"

Noticing the villagers eyeing them with a mix of curiosity and wariness, Donna leaned in and whispered, "Do they even have police boxes here? We stick out like a sore thumb!"

The Doctor, always observant, quickly noticed the subtle unease among the villagers. "Something's got them spooked," he remarked, his playful demeanour shifting to one of concern.

They began to weave through the village, the Doctor occasionally pausing to scan various objects with his sonic screwdriver, while Donna tried striking up conversations with the villagers. Most shied away, but a young lad, drawn by her vibrant hair, approached.

"You're not from here, are you?" he asked Donna.

She smirked, "What gave it away? The hair or the fabulous fashion sense?"

The boy giggled but then hesitated, "It's just... you should be careful. The lights... they've taken some of us."

Donna's smirk faded, replaced by genuine concern. "Taken? Taken where?"

Before the boy could respond, The Doctor rejoined Donna, having overheard the conversation. "What lights?" he pressed, kneeling to the boy's level.

The boy pointed eastward, "Over there. Near the woods. They dance and shimmer, then... someone's gone."

The Doctor's face darkened, and he stood, sharing a serious glance with Donna. "We need to find out what's happening."

Donna nodded in agreement, her usual feisty demeanour replaced with determination. "Let's do it. But, Doctor... no running off without me this time, alright?"

He offered her a reassuring smile, "Promise."

With that, the iconic duo made their way towards the eastern edge of the village, armed with nothing but their wit, determination, and a sonic screwdriver. Little did they know, their paths would soon cross with two other unexpected travellers.

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The village tavern, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, was a cacophony of sounds, from the strumming of a lute in the corner to the muffled conversations of villagers trying to drown their fears in ale. The atmosphere was dense, an almost palpable sense of unease hanging in the air.

Jaskier, ever the performer, tried to lift spirits with a lighthearted tune. His fingers danced across his lute as he sang, his voice soaring and filling the room. Despite his efforts, though, the applause was lukewarm. He took a seat at the bar, feeling unusually discouraged.

Donna, noticing the skilled bard, approached, her drink in hand. "That was lovely," she remarked, genuinely impressed. "Though I don't think I've ever seen an audience less responsive."

Jaskier chuckled, "You'd think they'd never seen a bard before. But thank you, kind lady."

Donna grinned, "Kind? That's a first. I'm Donna."

"Jaskier," he replied, raising his drink in a toast. Their eyes met briefly, a shared understanding passing between them. Both felt out of place, both sensed the tension in the air.

Donna leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know something, don't you? About the lights?"

Jaskier hesitated, struggling to keep his expression neutral. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged, "Just a hunch. And my mate, The Doctor, he's got this... knack for finding trouble. Or maybe it's the other way around."

At the mention of ‘The Doctor’, Jaskier's hearts skipped a beat, memories flooding back. But he masked his surprise quickly. "Ah, physicians. Always meddling, aren't they?"

Donna smirked, catching his attempt at evasion. "Oh, he's not that kind of doctor. Let's just say he's... unique. And I've got a feeling you're more than just a bard."

Jaskier laughed nervously, "You're quite the observer, Donna. But some stories... they're better left unsung.”

The fact that Donna was here meant this was the wrong part of his father’s timeline. Yes he and his twin brother had been born, but the Doctor didn’t know that yet. This was between Bad Wolf Bay where his mother chickened out and lied about being pregnant and the Dalek Crucible.

He'd always heard about the running joke concerning his Aunt Donna's uncanny ability to miss every alien invasion. That changed, however, when she encountered the Doctor; from that point on, her observational skills became almost unsettlingly sharp. Jaskier was deeply thankful for his perception filter, which prevented others from noting anything out of the ordinary about him—be it an additional heartbeat or his unchanged appearance over three decades. He often pondered its effectiveness on Geralt, but given that the Witcher never remarked on any of Jaskier's anomalies, he assumed it was doing its job. Then again, Geralt had the uncanny skill of observing minute details for years, perhaps even decades, without ever voicing his observations, particularly the glaring ones.

The moment the Doctor entered the tavern, Jaskier's hearts stuttered. It required all the self-control he possessed—which, truth be told, wasn't substantial in this regeneration—to maintain his shield and resist reaching out to the familiar solace of his father's telepathic touch. He'd forgotten how much his original form, before his first regeneration, had resembled his father’s tenth. That initial transformation had been prompted by his TARDIS malfunctioning upon his tumultuous arrival in this pocket universe.

Before Donna could rope him into conversation with the doctor Jaskier got up and started to play. He played a lot of his usual songs but just to make his father twitch instead of ‘white wolf’ he’d sing ‘bad wolf’ but only some of the time. Then he went into another song he wrote for his parents a long time ago.

Well I woke up today,

And the world was a restless place;

It could have been that way for me...

And I wandered around,

And I thought of your face;

That Christmas looking back at me...

I wish today was just like every other day,

'Cause today has been the best day -

Everything I ever dreamed!

And I started to walk,

Pretty soon I will run;

And I'll come running back to you...

'Cause I followed my star,

And that's what you are;

I've had a merry time with you...

I wish today was just like every other day,

'Cause today has been the best day -

Everything I ever dreamed!

So have a good life,

Do it for me -

Make me so proud,

Like you want me to be;

Where ever you are,

I'm thinking of you, oceans apart

I want you to know...

Well I woke up today, and you're on the other side,

Our time will never come again;

But if you can still dream,

Close your eyes it will seem,

That you can see me now and then...

I wish today was just like every other day,

'Cause today has been the best day -

Everything I ever dreamed!

I wish today was just like every other day,

'Cause today has been the best day -

Everything I ever dreamed!

Jaskier took another break, feeling the crowd in the tavern wasn’t quite warming up to his music. He was also too anxious to use his empathic abilities to lift their spirits.

Suddenly, he was approached in a rather confrontational manner.

"Who are you?!" demanded the Doctor.

"It's Jaskier, a bard and a graduate in the seven liberal arts from Oxenfurt," Jaskier responded with a hint of pride.

"You kept singing 'bad wolf'," the Doctor persisted, his brow furrowed in suspicion.

"I assure you, Doctor, my song was about the 'white wolf', not 'bad wolf'. I am, after all, the personal bard to Geralt of Rivia. I've been chronicling his adventures in song for the past two decades. Just ask anyone," Jaskier said, trying to keep his composure.

"Doctor," Donna interjected softly, trying to defuse the situation, "give it a rest."

"He's hiding something, Donna! You said it yourself. And that last song... I recognise it. It topped the charts during Christmas in 2007 when I was at the Powell Estate in London."

Jaskier's eyes widened, "Truly? A number one hit? Oh, what a delightful surprise!" He then realised he said too much.

“How do you know of Christmas? This isn't Earth, and the technology here is hardly Earth-compatible,” the Doctor pointed out triumphantly.

Caught off guard, Jaskier blurted, "Oi, is that a flubble over there?"

To Jaskier's astonishment, the mention of the tiny Gallifreyan rodent usually kept as pets actually distracted the Doctor. He seized the moment and bolted. Donna, however, was right on his heels. Just as she was about to grab him at the edge of the woods, they were engulfed in a swirl of lights and vanished, leaving the Doctor and Geralt, who had just arrived due to the ruckus, staring in shock and confusion.

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Song for those not familiar with Doctor Who is called Song For Ten written by Murray Gold for the Christmas Special in 2006.

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