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starry-bi-sky · 2 months

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show me how to lay my sword down long enough to let you through - clone^2 ch1

A little boy has landed in Amity Park, and he looks suspiciously like the 13-year-old Damian Wayne living in Gotham. Good news: he landed in front of Danny just as he was finishing up his fight with a ghost. Bad news: the little Damian-look-alike doesn't speak a lick of english, has a sword, and seems very keen on using it whenever he can. Against Danny specifically.

Danny already has his own issues to deal with -- like how it's not even been a year since he found out he was a clone of Bruce Wayne specifically, with all the identity issues that come with such a revelation -- and a stab-happy six year old that was very obviously a clone of Damian Wayne was not one of them. However, the kid was alone in a foreign country, and despite his hostility, it's very clear that he's terrified.

Call him a bleeding heart, but Danny takes him home.

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womp i wrote it and posted it. truly, it was only a matter of time before i did. my clone^2 au except now it's a fic! Here is the humble beginnings of this au if anyone is interested. The full thing is also posted below the read more if you want to read it here instead.

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Danny knows more than he probably should about ghosts, ectoplasm, and all things relating to it — courtesy only in partial credit to his parents and largely to every ghost, spirit, mythological creature, and conceptual entity taken sentient form he’s ever come across in the last two years of his run as Phantom.

For example: he’s learned how to classify the difference between a ghost and a spirit when the words are synonymous with each other. He knows that ghosts cannot pass into the Realm of the Living without a naturally-made or manmade portal that splits the seams between dimensions like holes being chewed through a shirt.

He knows that spirits are just weaker could-be ghosts that are trapped in the Living Realm, unseen by the Living, with unfinished business until someone can come along to help them move on. He’s helped quite a handful of them in the last two years thanks to his clairvoyance, but the city has more spirits than he could possibly know how to deal with. So his efforts are like trying to empty a pond with a bucket.

Danny still tries, anyway. One afterlife saved is one afterlife saved, right?

What he also knows is that natural made portals are exceedingly rare. That they occur when ectoplasm in any given area for some reason or another currents against each other, condensing and building in energy and density until eventually something gives and like snow on top of a roof it caves in and creates a portal.

He knows that these natural made portals typically only last a few seconds at a time, and vary between the size of a rodent and a marsupial no bigger than a wallaby. He knows that most natural portals only last from a few seconds to a few minutes, with the record-holder being five minutes from a portal that was the size of a toddler.

And the reason they never last so long is because ectoplasm is an energy, like most energy, it usually has somewhere to go. It cycles through plants, through the animals, through the ground, anywhere it can reach. It’s cousins with solar energy in that sense. Meaning it, usually, has little opportunity to clash and current with the rest of the ambient ectoplasm in the area.

But it does happen, albeit rarely, and only for a few seconds. Like the equivalent of a static shock; it’s only there for a moment before it collapses in on itself and disappears.

So with that being said, Danny likes to think he’s — maybe not an expert — but fairly knowledgeable about the existence of natural made portals. The Ever-Infinite Bridge Between Realms is ever-expanding, ever-growing, and with it so is the information he has on it. Anything could become obsolete in a moment.

And the only reason he’s thinking about it is because his parents were talking about portals in the kitchen earlier that evening, talking about their portal specifically, but Danny latched onto it, and his mind wanders. He’s not sure why they were talking about it, the portal has been running, unfortunately smoothly for the last two years. He has the scars and eyebags (and trauma) to prove it.

Besides, his mind should be on other things.

Like the goddamn flying snake he’s been chasing across the city skyline for the last thirty minutes. An amphiptere his mind unhelpfully supplies, a word he grabbed nearly two years ago when he first started out as Phantom and was desperately looking up the various ectoplasmic creatures slipping through his parents’ portal.

Some of them didn’t have proper names — like a three-eyed fox he once saw with the tail of a peacock and hooves of a goat. He managed to lure it out of the alleyway it backed itself into with a nasty burger. It tore into it with the fervor of a starving coyote and Danny let it finish eviscerating the burger before sucking it into his thermos.

It was incredibly disturbing to watch at the time, since the thing had an almost beak-shaped muzzle, but now he wishes he was back in the alleyway trying to coax out a ecto-fox-griffin thing rather than chase after what was basically a dragon with no legs — it doesn’t even have the decency to be a wyvern.

He’s only keeping up with the stupid snake due to his grappling hook, something Danny made a year ago in order to keep up with the ghosts flying around the city, and his best fucking self-made invention yet — made from the discarded inventions from his parents’ lab — with his jawbreaker gloves coming in at close second, if only because he gets to call them his jawbreakers.

(It was remarkably simpler than the grappling hook — he just reinforced the knuckles on his gloves.)

Because as much as he likes running, he was going to give himself a heart attack if he chased every ghost he came across on foot. It’d take him all night just to find one. And there was something inherently freeing in the terrifying, adrenaline-rushing sensation of soaring through the air with nothing but hard ground below and endless sky above.

The amphiptere twists its head and looks behind it, and Danny gives it a little shit-eating grin from behind his mask and a small, two fingered salute. The mane of feathers behind the snake’s head puffs up like a frilled lizard, and it opens its maw to hiss — this distorted, almost screeching sound — at him menacingly.

Danny, in response, scoffs under his breath and waves a hand in front of his nose. “Ugh.” he mutters, scrunching up his nose as the snake’s hot breath hits him square in the face. “Someone should throw you one of those dental doggie treats.”

The snake, of course, doesn’t hear him over the sound of its shrieking and the wind. When it twists back around, it dives to the ground, flicking its tail harshly like it’s hoping to hit him as it goes down.

Finally, Danny thinks, dodging out of the way with a twist of his body, and follows it down into the factorial district of Amity Park. It’s already disappeared somewhere when his feet hit the sidewalk, but the buzzing of his ghost sense still tingles on the back of his neck like a seventh sense. So it’s still nearby.

Danny’s grappling hook retracts with a quiet, zipping noise. He hooks it onto the loop of his jeans, and stalks down the side of the road.

Spirits linger beside the buildings. Men, women, and kids wearing clothes from all different time periods congregating in groups and conversing with one another, playing, watching him. Cities never sleep, they doze, and the dead come out at night when the living aren’t there to wake it up. Danny’s spoken to them many, many times.

“Excuse me.” He murmurs, tapping a man in overalls and a railroad cap on the arm. If it weren’t for his faint green glow and how he wisps at the edges, the man would almost look alive. The man turns to him, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead when he sees Danny. “Have you seen a flying snake coming through here?”

The man blinks at him, “As a matter o’ fact,” he says, adjusting the cap on his head, “I have. Flew down the road like a bat out of hell.” The man points down the street, and Danny leans around him to see. “Thought it was gonna knock me righ’ out my work boots.”

Danny presses his mouth into a thin line, making a low ‘hn’ sound in the back of his throat. “Did you see if it went into one of the buildings?” He almost hopes it did, he could probably try and sneak up on it that way. Man, he needs some kind of stunner or something.

“Right in there.” The man tells him, pointing to an old brick factory with the windows grimy and cracked. Of course, Danny sighs out of his nose. If he squints, he can see a green glow coming through the glass.

If he’s lucky, he won’t run into the Box Ghost while he’s in there. He turns to the man and nods politely, “Thank you.” And when the man nods back, Danny turns and hurries down the street. He weaves around the spirits congregating around him, he’s heard from one-too-many spirits how irritating it is to be walked through by the Living.

The door is rusted and locked when he finds an entrance, only made worse by the chain wrapped around the door for good measure, with a padlock. Of course. Rolling his eyes, Danny reaches for his pocket and pulls out a lockpick — too many times doing this has taught him to bring one along, just in case.

(Man, he was envious of ghosts’ abilities to just phase through things. It would save him a lot of trouble. And roadburns, bruises, broken bones, and every other injury known to man.)

He jams the lockpick into the padlock, jiggles it roughly, and unlocks it with a soft click. “They need better locks.” Danny mutters, pulling off the chain carefully with quiet, metallic clattering, and putting it on the ground. He jams the lockpick into the door lock, and with a little more finesse, unlocks that one too.

The door opens with a heavy creak that has Danny scrunching his shoulders up to his ears and his mouth pulling back with a sharp inhale. Shit, he freezes in place, darting his eyes around for the amphiptere.

He sees its glow off in the corner, stark ectoplasm green against the red brick walls, half hidden behind empty conveyor belts and forgotten, empty metal barrels. It doesn’t notice him, with the door open he can hear a loud crrrchk-ing followed by intermittent bangs.

It’s chewing on something, wriggling around like a cat playing with a toy mouse. Danny silently creeps in and slips through the gap between the door, closing the door behind him slowly. His eyes never leave the amphiptere. It still doesn’t notice him.

Two years isn’t that long to teach yourself how to be stealthy, but when you’re doing it every night, you learn quickly. Danny keeps himself low to the ground and his footsteps light. The amphiptere is oblivious to him; its clanging, hissing, snarling drowns out the room to any other noise.

As he gets closer, Danny unhooks his thermos again. There’s a quiet click as he opens the lid with a press of a button, and the thermos hums to life in his hand, warming up against his palm. He creeps around the conveyor belt, his breathing slow and steady.

When he reaches the amphiptere, its back is facing him. It coiled itself close to the ground, its jaw clamped around a metal barrel that’s been crushed like a tin can down the middle. Danny clenches his teeth, discomfort shivering down his spine. That could’ve been his arm had it decided to fight back.

Silently, he raises his thermos at the snake, and with his arm steady, his thumb slams one of the buttons. There’s a recoil like he’s firing a gun, and Danny finds his purchase on the ground as a beam of light lashes out and hits the snake.

The reaction is immediate. The amphiptere drops the barrel with a hideous, furious shriek and lashes out, trying to escape from the beam dragging it towards the thermos. But Danny’s long since learned that the pull of the thermos is much stronger than most ghosts, so long as he doesn’t disturb the tractor beam.

One thing is for certain — keeping the damn thing steady is one hell of a forearm workout. His arms used to shake after a fight, and they’d feel sore in the morning. Not so much anymore since Danny started working out with Sam.

(Tucker declined when they asked him if he wanted to join — he’ll stick with his tech and walking on the treadmill.)

When the amphiptere disappears inside the thermos, Danny slams the lid back on and slumps with relief. Finally, he groans quietly, clipping the thermos onto his belt and pressing his hand to his lower back to stretch. There’s a satisfying pop-pop-pop, and Danny sighs from his nose. He’s calling it a night.

He glances at the time on his phone. It was three am, fantastic. He has school in four hours.

Other than the snake, tonight had been blessedly quiet. Danny spoke to some of the spirits lingering around Third and Main downtown, got some of their information so he could start helping them with moving on — two murders and then a simple fetch quest, — chased down a few other ghosts — most of them just ecto-entities, but there was a young ghost child who he had to play hide and seek with before she would agree to be taken home in the thermos.

He also got into a fight with a fellow teen ghost who wanted to see the “Death-Touched” and if Phantom was as good a fighter as the rumors say he was. Danny’s been called “Death-Touched” since the night he snuck into the lab and released every single ghost his parents had trapped in cages, that wasn’t unsurprising. A little a lot ominous at first, but Danny is nothing if not adaptive.

He’d kicked the other teen’s ass, dragged him into the thermos, and moved on.

But other than that, tonight had been tame. So before Murphy can come and kick him in the teeth, Danny’s calling it a night.

Danny is one step towards the exit when he hears a loud, suctioning noise followed by something akin to a glacier cracking down the middle. His heart sinks instantly to his feet, and the chill of his ghost sense crawls up his throat and freezes the back of his teeth. No mist spills out, yet.

Ah, fuck. Danny stifles a groan, turning back around. There goes the rest of his night.

A portal the size of an acorn swirls into existence right before his eyes, and then rapidly grows. Swirling like a whirlpool, it grows bigger and bigger until it’s half the size of him. The bigger it gets, the tenser Danny becomes — the bigger the portal is, the bigger the ghost that can slip through gets.

Please don’t make him face the snake’s fucking cousin. Danny prays, rapidly scurrying back with his hands raised defensively. He scowls under his mask, and waits tersely for something to fall through. Whatever comes through, he hopes it’s friendly. Or slow. Or maybe both.

Danny doesn’t get another winged snake.

Instead, a child stumbles out of the portal. A non-glowing, living-colored child who couldn’t be any older than six, and who rapidly spits out a phrase in a language Danny doesn’t catch. Danny’s hands drop slightly from his side, bewilderment settling in the back of his throat.

As the child rights himself, the portal dissipates behind him with a hissing sigh. It takes Danny’s ghost sense with it, and the chill evaporates from his mouth.

Oh, oh no.

Danny’s heart drops from his feet straight into the ground. Six feet into the ground. Oh, fuck.

That was a living child. That was a living child. That was a whole-ass living child.

If natural portals were rare, then whatever the hell this was — teleportals, Vlad’s teleports, whatever — was unheard of. The only time he’s seen a portal that transported someone from one place to another on the same plane of existence was Vlad. His man-made teleportals.

Natural portals between one place to another? He’s never heard of such a thing. And one just opened in front of him and spat out a child. A human, living child. A portal just kidnapped a child.

A child who, Danny realizes, is holding a sword. A katana, of all things. One that was designed to match his size. A child who was, for a lack of better words, wearing something Danny would expect a ninja to wear. A child who was dressed from head to toe in black.

A child who looks suspiciously like a baby-faced Damian Wayne. Brown skin and green eyes and all, but with youth still clinging to his cheeks. It couldn’t be Damian Wayne himself — that boy was thirteen, and Danny would’ve heard from Sam if something happened to him.

So this meant either two things: Damian Wayne was just now turned into a child and dropped into Danny’s lap, or this was a clone of Damian Wayne. Danny was thinking it might’ve been the latter.

Fuck you, Murphy, he thinks instantly, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. This was mean.

He stares, uncertainty — and perhaps a little bit of nausea — forming a pit in his chest, as the child makes eye contact with him. The air is silent and thick — with dust, asbestos, or just the silence, Danny isn’t sure. Maybe all three. But they stare at each other for a long, suffocating moment.

Then the kid — Damian — lunges at him, his sword quickly unsheathed.

“Shit!” Danny dives back, just barely dodging being grazed by the gleaming blade. That was fast. Danny isn’t around living kids often but that was too fast, that much he knows. Kids don’t move that fast on their own. Not without being taught.

Damian spits something at him in that foreign language, his face twisting with anger, and the kid turns himself and lunges once again. Danny dodges again, swatting the sword away reflexively with the side of his gloved hand.

“I can’t understand you.” He tells him, his voice comes out rougher than he meant it to, and it comes out muffled from his mask. Please tell me you know English, he hopes, hopping up onto the old conveyor belt.

“'Akhbirni 'ayn 'ana walan 'aqtulak.” Damian snarls, chasing up after him with worrying ease. Danny swats away another stab at him, frowning when the blade leaves a cut in his leather glove. It doesn’t reach skin, but the fact of the matter is that Damian still cut his glove.

He doesn’t know English either, great. Perfect. Fantastic, even. Danny backs up on the conveyor belt, twisting away from Damian’s attacks with… well, not relative ease, the kid is faster than Danny’s expecting, but he’s not getting hits in. So some ease.

But Danny’s been fighting ghosts for the last two years. Fighting entities capable of moving at the speed of light leaves you with quick reflexes and even quicker eyes. Damian jumps up to try and kick him in the face, and Danny ducks down and dashes off the conveyor belt, hopping to the next one over.

When his feet hit the belt, he uses the momentum to leap up onto a rusty shelf. His fingers dig into the sides, and he climbs, vaulting his legs up to the top once he’s high enough. He twists around and stares down at Damian, instinctively crouched on his fours. “I’m not fighting you.” Danny says sternly, watching the kid hop after him. “I don’t fight the living, and I don’t fight kids.” Living ones, that is. Youngblood was fair game.

Damian scowls, pointing his sword at him accusingly from the conveyor below. “Tawaqaf ean alrakd wawajahani 'ayuha aljaban!” Then he’s jumping up after him, doing an impressive flip in the air before latching onto the lower shelves and climbing up.

Admittedly, Danny is rooted to his spot with disbelief. What the fuck? “Who taught you that?” He says unwittingly, bewilderment slipping into his voice. Seriously — who taught him that? What six year old knows how to do a backflip at this age? Who made you, kid?

Naturally, Damian doesn’t answer him, and Danny grabs his grappling gun and aims it at the rafters. With a quick pull of the trigger, the hook shoots out and wraps around one of the beams. Danny yanks back, and he braces as the cord yanks him forward in return. When he reaches the beam, he pulls himself up as the cord unravels itself and retracts back into the gun.

Danny shoves his gun back onto his belt, and disappears into the shadows of the ceiling.

Just in time, Damian was at the top of the shelving unit he was just on, and the kid stomps his foot angrily. Briefly, a smile tugs at the corner of Danny’s mouth, amusement fizzing out in his lungs. “Tawaqaf ean alrakd!” The kid yells, his hands shaking at his sides. “'Ayn 'akhadhatni ya Lieazir!”

He swivels his head around, his face scrunched up in the dark room as he searches the rafters. Danny silently crawls across the beam, stooping low and moving slowly, and never taking his eyes off Damian.

The kid is wound up like a spring, and jumpier than a war vet on the Fourth of July. It’s a little funny, but as Danny creeps through the ceiling, the kid only grows more frantic. The only light coming through is the muffled, yellow dim of the streets, and the moonlight that was in the middle of waning from gibbous to crescent. Good enough that Danny can see the kid’s face shifting from anger to fear.

“Laeazir!” He yells again, and his voice cracks. Danny stills. “Akhruj huna Lieazir!”

Okay, it wasn’t funny anymore. Danny holds his breath, watching as Damian’s expression fluctuates between scowling fury and wild-eyed panic. He’s twisting on his feet, whatever lethal grace he had earlier from their brief fight is gone now, replaced with clumsy, fawn-like alarm.

Damian breathes in deeply, and Danny can see the whites of his eyes when he turns his head wildly in his direction. “Azhar nafsak!”

He’s scared. Danny realizes, pricking up slightly from the rafter. He’s scared. That’s why he attacked him, he’s scared. Of course he is, Danny thinks, feeling like an idiot. He crawls over the beams again, creeping around Damian, keeping his gaze sharp on the kid’s feet. With how much he was spinning, he’s a little worried he was going to fall off the shelf.

Of course he’s scared, he thinks again. He’s a kid, he doesn’t know any English, and he’s alone. Danny can’t imagine what’s going on through his head — of course he’s scared. He must be terrified. He looks terrified.

Danny raises himself up carefully, gripping onto the rafters, and dashes across quickly. Damian whirls around towards him, his hands flying to his katana at his sheathe. His fear smothers on his face, and Damian tenses up defensively.

The grappling gun finds its way back into Danny’s hands, and Danny shoots it at a beam connected to one of the pillars. When it catches, he leans to the side, and lets himself fall. The cord goes taut, and Danny flicks a small button on the side that allows him to lower to the ground with some relative ease.

With his back to Damian, he hears a quiet scuffle and the shelf creaks. When his feet touch the ground, he tugs on his gun and the cord retracts. Danny can hear quiet, rapid-approaching footsteps coming up behind him, and he shoves his grappler back into its place and whirls around.

And immediately, reflexively, catches the blade being swung at him with both hands. Shit, he wheezes out harshly, eyes widening in shock. The blade digs into his hands, but there’s no sting — his gloves had taken the brunt of the hit. They were probably ruined after this, but Danny’s less upset over that more than he is relieved.

Damian glowers up at him, and this close up, Danny can very barely see a watery sheen covering his bottom eyelashes. His heartstrings pull, but it doesn’t stop him from curling his fingers tight around his katana to prevent him from pulling away.

“Let me help you.” Danny says, rushed. He doesn’t understand him, the obvious part of his mind whispers. He needs to get him to understand him. Damian’s arms tremble slightly, he pushes down harder on Danny’s hands. But he doesn’t budge.

He tries to yank it back instead, and it gives slightly — only for Danny to readjust his grip, despite the fear spiking in his heart. Cold metal kisses at part of his palm. It’s cut through his glove more. “Put the sword down.”

“'Ayn 'ana.” Damian snarls at him, there’s still a tremble in his voice. “'Ayn 'akhadhatni.”

A low, frustrated sound emits in the back of Danny’s throat. “I can’t understand you.” He snaps, if the kid would stop trying to kill him for five seconds, maybe they’d be able to get somewhere. “And you can’t understand me.” But if you’d stop attacking me, I could figure out a way how.

Something takes mercy on Danny — because Damian gives up on trying to take back the sword. He lets go of the handle, and Danny sees an opening. Immediately, he tosses the sword off to the side, ignoring the clattering and skidding it makes against the concrete floor. The kid is fast, but Danny is faster. He wraps his hand around Damian’s forearm and yanks him forward.

Damian yells angrily, and Danny traps his arm against his chest and twists him around so that his back is to his chest. Danny is also stronger. Both as a given from his size, and what he does every night. Trapping Damian against him is easier done and said, and Danny immediately sits them both on the ground once he has a good purchase on him.

“'Utliq sarahi!” Damian yells, thrashing against him violently. Danny simply tilts his head up to prevent Damian from headbutting him in the chin, and wraps an arm around his torso tightly so he can fish for his phone. “'Ayuha alqadharatu! 'Utliq sarahi!”

Danny doesn’t know what he’s saying but he can guess, and he readjusts his arm when Damian nearly slips out. “No.” He says curtly, and when he gets out his phone, he sets it down briefly so he can pull his glove off. With his other arm preoccupied with keeping Damian still, Danny tugs it off with his teeth instead.

Silently, he inspects his palm for any injuries from the katana. He hadn’t felt anything, but it doesn’t hurt to check. He smiles faintly, relief weighting off his shoulders, when all he finds is a small cut near the meat of his palm. Not even deep enough to bleed. It stings, but it won’t even scar.

He picks up his phone again, and with his mask on he can’t use the facial recognition. Danny taps in his password with his thumb, and quickly pulls up a translator. In his arms, Damian continues to thrash around, twisting and trying to pretzel himself out of his grip.

“'Ana Damian Al Ghul, dam Ras Alshaytan!” Damian demands. Danny is a little worried that he might bite him, and he hoists him back up onto his lap when he tries to wriggle down. “Yajib 'an tastamie li'awamiri ya Lieazir!”

Al Ghul. Danny’s never heard that last name before, and he pauses from his typing to frown. “Hm.” Damian — the original, that is, not the clone in his arms, — went by his father’s surname, and Danny can’t remember if it was ever released what the mother’s last name was.

He quickly swaps the tab on his phone to a new one, and types into the search bar: ‘Damian Wayne mom last name’ and clicks enter. There’s a few seconds where his phone is loading, and then it pulls up the results. And with it, is a chunk of text from the top article: Damian’s mother was kept anonymous for her privacy’s sake. Who she was, what her name is, it’s all unknown other than that she was Chinese-Arabic. A remarkable feat of anonymity in the grand scheme of things and the all seeing eyes of the internet.

“Hn.” Danny’s mouth presses into a line, and he glances down to Damian. Original Damian’s maternal surname was unknown, and now he knows that his clone was calling himself Damian, what was the off chance that ‘Al Ghul’ was a random last name given to him, and wasn’t actually his mother’s surname?

…Not likely. Or it was a low chance.

Putting that aside, he swaps back to the translator and converts what he wrote into Arabic. Damian’s mother was Arabic-Chinese, and the language Damian was speaking didn’t sound like Chinese. So, fingers crossing, he hopes it’s Arabic.

Turning up the volume as far as it could go, he looks back at Damian, whose struggling and yelling has slowly begun to cease. Danny doesn’t trust it, and he smiles a little amusedly, that’s not going to get me to let go. He checks the translation to make sure it’s what he wants it to say, and then hits the play button.

[I can’t understand you, but my name is Danny. I want to help you.]

Damian jerks, hitting his head against Danny’s chest in surprise. “'Utliq sarahi 'ayn 'ana?” He sneers, “'Ana last bihajat limusaeadatikum.”

“I just said I can’t understand you, bud.” Danny sighs, once again adjusting his hold on Damian. The kid kicks at him and misses him entirely. His arm was starting to get tired from the strain of holding Damian on its own, so Danny puts his phone behind him and swaps them.

He honest to god gets hissed at when he has to adjust Damian as well, and Danny pauses for a moment just out of pure wonder at the boy in his arms. He was hissed at, as if he was scruffing a stray cat. He was so telling Sam about this when he gets this kid home.

Smiling faintly, Danny pulls his other glove off with his teeth, checks for injuries, and then with a little bit of contortion, grabs his phone and pulls it back up. Then his train of thought catches up to him, and he freezes just as he’s about to type into the translator again.

Take him home? The kid? Danny can’t do that. There wasn’t any room in the house, and how would he explain this to his parents?

‘Hey mom, dad, this is Damian. He’s a clone of my genetic template’s son! Yeah, yeah, that template, the one who just so happens to be the old college buddy that you accidentally cloned instead of dad? The one who just so happens to be capable of suing our family out of existence if he happened to catch wind of my existence? Oh, where did I find him? Last night while I was out. Why was I out? Oh, because I just so happen to be the Phantom, your sworn enemy and the ghost-hunting vigilante who you are convinced is also a ghost. Can we keep him?’

Yeah, yeah, he can see how well that would go down. He might as well take off his mask and tell Bruce Wayne he had a clone already. But… where else would Damian go? He doesn’t know any English, he was alone in a foreign country with no money, no way to get home, the worst thing Danny can do is abandon him right now.

Danny presses his mouth into a thin line, a frown beginning to pull at the corner of his lips.

…He could figure something out with his parents, Jazz will help him once he explains the situation. And if he can get Damian to agree to stop trying to kill him, then they can both make it back to Fenton Works before sunrise… Hopefully.

Pressing his mouth into a thin line, Danny starts typing into the translator again. [You’re in America right now. The translator doesn’t translate the name of my city well, but we’re in Illinois. You are very far from home.]

Damian jerks once again, twisting his neck to look up at Danny with disbelief. “'Amrika?” He says, the corner of his up curled up. Danny nods curtly, he doesn’t need to know Arabic to know what ‘Amrika’ means. “Hadhih Amirika?”

Danny nods again, “Yeah, America. You’re in Amity Park.” He points to the ceiling, and gestures around them slowly. Damian watches him carefully, his eyes narrowed. “Am-i-ty Park.” Danny says, enunciating the syllables slowly.

Green eyes narrow at him further. “Amity Park.” Damian says, slowly and sharp. When Danny nods, he drops his head and Danny tilts slightly in order to see as Damian casts the room a disdainful look. “Amity Park.” He repeats, voice full of enough venom to kill a full grown man.

He can’t help himself, he snorts to himself and grins underneath his mask. The sound causes Damian to snap his head back up at him, and return his glower full force. He tries to wriggle again, but, like all other times, it’s in vain.

“Sawf tutliq sarahi.” Damian orders, mouth twisting back into a scowl. Danny almost wants to tell him that his face will freeze if he keeps doing that. He’s already got his thumb hovering over the keyboard. “Yajib 'an 'aeud 'iilaa aldawrii.”

Danny types into his phone, [I want to help you. You don’t know English, so getting around on your own will be next to impossible. If you promise not to attack me, I will take you back to my home and we can figure out how to get you home.]

It’s… okay. Danny doesn’t really want to help the kid get home. Wherever that is, it’s teaching a child how to kill people, and it’s making clones of people. Statistically, that’s a bad sign. It also means that, for all intents and purposes, Danny should help the kid get home so he can find out whatever this organization is and, hopefully, put a stop to their cloning.

However, Danny has his own city to take care of. Amity Park is full from head to toe with ghosts and spirits, and with his parents playing whack-a-mole with the portal’s door controls, he doesn’t feel comfortable leaving the city for even a few days. His parents can catch a lot of ghosts in only a few days.

His parents can spill a lot of blood in only a few days.

The evil cloning organization that made Damian will just have to be something Danny can leave in the capable hands of the older, more experienced heroes. For now, he can try and stall Damian’s homecoming and also keep him safe by keeping him housed.

Damian, instead of wriggling again, slumps against him with a throaty huff. Danny peers over his head, checking to see if he was just pouting or had, somehow, passed out. Damian was scowling, his shoulders slumped up slightly, and Danny internally coos.

He’s pouting. It was adorable.

The boy is silent for a long minute, a scowl carved like marble in his face, and Danny is content — no, wait, slightly content. He still wants to get home at a semi-reasonable time, — to wait him out. He is stronger, bigger, and faster than him. Eventually, Damian makes a low grumbling noise, something Danny can almost mistake for as a groan, before the kid slumps against him.

“Hsnan, sa'abqaa maeak hataa natamakan min 'iieadati 'iilaa aldawri.” He says, sounding significantly less full of indignant rage, and more so full of indignant irritation. He also no longer wriggles, and Danny feels hope sparking low in his gut. Did he finally get through to him…?

More seconds pass by with the two of them just sitting there in silence, before Damian wriggles again — but rather than trying to escape, he twists his head to give Danny a dirty, expectant look. Danny frowns, confused, and then jerks — Oh! Oh!

He fumbles for his phone, [Was that a yes? Nod if it was a yes?]

Damian scoffs at him, looking very much like Danny was nothing more than dirt under his shoes. But he nods curtly, “Naeam sa'adhhab maeak.”

Danny cheers, loudly. The hand curled around his phone punches skyward, like a fistbump to the ceiling, and Damian drops his head away from him. He yells something at him — probably telling him not to be so loud, but Danny pays it no mind. He’s only focused on the pure, utter, relief, pouring into his lungs and trying to trick itself out of his mouth as a laugh.

Yes, yes! He convinced him! That’s one less worry to worry about, and as Danny drops his hand with his phone, his other arm starts to loosen up around Damian's waist — something Damian very much notices. As he stiffens up and is halfway through shoving himself out of his grasp.

Danny lets him go, remembering abruptly the mask on his face. He lets Damian get to his feet, but he’s quickly scrambling soon after, not to grab him again. But to scramble for the katana he’d tossed out of the kid’s reach. Damian exclaims behind him, but Danny has his fingers curled around the handle before the kid can chase after him.

When he stands and faces Damian again, the kid is all puffed up with rage again. Danny doesn’t doubt that, if the kid is trained to be some… kind of ninja…. that he has more weapons on him. But Damian looks more focused on his sword, so Danny holds up his phone-hand in a gesture to hopefully make Damian wait before he attacks him.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He cries. Damian does, fortunately, and Danny quickly types into his phone again. [I will give you back your sword, and I will show you my face when we reach my home. But you must promise you won’t attack me once I do.] He pauses for a moment, and then types in as well: [I’ll also show you how to use the translator so we can talk both ways.]

He doesn’t know if Damian even knows what his… father? Looks like, or what his feelings on him are if he does. But Danny was going to cover his bases, and if there was the off chance that Damian held negative feelings for his dad, he didn’t want the kid to attack him, again.

(It probably wasn’t a good idea to do this at home, but at this point Danny just wants to be in his room.)

Damian eyes him up suspiciously, tense as a wooden plank and hunched like he was ready to pounce anyways, but he nods curtly. “Aeidak.”

“Okay.” Danny breathes out, slowly straightening up. He’ll take that as Damian promising not to attack him. “Okay, good. Good.” Lowering his hand, he pockets his phone back into his jeans and flips the sword around so that the blade is pointing downwards. He holds it out for Damian, and the kid, quick as a whip, snatches it back from him and sheathes it into its scabbard.

Great, finally. Now he can leave. Danny’s hands drop to his sides and he wriggles his fingers at Damian, absently gesturing for him to grab his hand. He turns his head away, searching for the door. “Let’s go.”

No hand takes his, which Danny should have expected, so he drops it back to his side and leads Damian to the exit. The kid sticks close to him, but keeps just barely out of sight from his peripherals. His steps are quiet, Danny would say almost silent but that wasn’t the case. If he wasn’t paying attention, though, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. Ninja stuff, probably. Danny’s a little, no, a lot concerned that he’s so good at that.

Ancients, bud. He thinks again, disbelief returning like a hand around his throat. Danny keeps glancing back at Damian to make sure he was still there. Just who, exactly, made you?

When they get outside, the night air hits them cooler than it was inside. Spirits were still lingering around the sidewalks, chattering amongst each other and throwing him various, curious glances. Danny suppresses a frown, but can’t stop himself from making a low ‘hm.’

They probably felt the shift in the atmosphere from the portal opening. It may have dissipated, but the excess was still lingering around. Without his focus solely on Damian, Danny can feel it too. Like a fog in his chest. Or, perhaps more accurately, like going through the day in a tired glaze, only to be hit with pin-startling clarity. The spirits were probably trying to soak up as much as possible in order to gain a stronger physical form.

Which, unfortunately for them, wouldn’t happen from this portal alone. Too many spirits trying to do the same thing. Not enough ectoplasm.

He leads Damian down the steps, and over to the sidewalk. On instinct his hand reaches for his grappling hook, but Damian, still loitering in his peripherals, tenses up. Oh, right, Danny thinks, and switches for his phone instead, this is a two-person trip.

It’d probably be rude to just grab Damian and start flying. Damian might try and stab him, or worse, try and get out of his hands again. The mental image of Damian falling nearly fifty-feet in the air flashes behind Danny’s eyes, and he represses a shudder.

Yeah, let's tell him first.

His fingers fly across the screen. [I’m going to use a grappling hook to get us back to the house. It’ll be faster. I’m going to pick you up, hold on tight.]

Damian scoffs at him, but nods. Danny pockets his phone, swaps it out for his grappling hook instead, and lets Damian look at it for a minute before he crouches down and wraps his free arm around Damian’s legs and hoists him up.

Something gets said to him by Damian, harsh and scowly, probably an insult, but he wraps his arms around Danny’s neck and his legs tight around his torso. At this point Danny just rolls his eyes and adjusts his arm to hold him tight around the waist. “Hold on.” He mumbles, and points his gun to the sky.

Flying through the city is admittedly trickier with the extra weight on his front and only one hand free, but Danny takes it as a challenge rather than a problem — if only so he doesn’t think too much on it. Damian’s fingers claw into the back of hoodie the moment his grappling hook pulls them through the air, it borderlines almost painful, and Danny doubts he could drop the kid even if he tried.

There are a few close calls where Danny nearly clips the edge of one of the skyscrapers, but it takes one easy twist and a little bit of spinning to correct the angle. The threat of it sends a rush of adrenaline through his veins, and Danny can’t say he didn’t laugh a few times. Becoming Phantom turned him into an adrenaline junkie, he thinks.

Damian doesn’t seem to be having much fun though, his grip suffocating on Danny and his face buried into his shoulder. He’s choking Danny a little, but he wouldn’t dare try and correct it while in the air, and it’s only bringing him mild discomfort.

Not fast enough but all too soon, Danny is touching down near the residential area of Amity Park where the buildings are too small for him to grapple through. He drops onto one of the apartment rooftops, and his feet are barely touching the ground before Damian clambers off him like a wet cat trying to claw its way out of a pool.

With the sound of his grappling hook receding, Danny laughs low under his breath. “Flying not for you, bud?” He asks, slightly breathless and grinning under his mask. The hook clicks into place in his palm, and Danny shoves it back onto his belt.

The kid glares at him amidst brushing off his clothes and patting at his sides. His hand brushes over his sword, and when he feels the hilt still there, Damian drops it. The kid straightens up like a soldier — immediately killing Danny’s sky-flushed mirth in the process — and stares up at him, awaiting orders.

Danny’s smile falls, and he clears his throat. Okay, he thinks, checking himself over for anything out of place, before looking back to Damian. Resolve hardens like cement in between his ribs. He’s not going back. Not if I have anything to say about it.

He moves around Damian and steps over to the roof ledge, swiveling left and right for the direction of his house. Which is unnecessary, he can see Fenton Works from a mile away, but he does it anyways. Anything to distract him from the discomfort that’s been sledgehammered at him. “This way.” He murmurs, gesturing for Damian to follow. Shuffling feet, and Danny can sense more than see the little boy at his side.

Considering the way he saw Damian hopping around earlier, Danny is confident in his ability to roof hop with him — confidence well deserved because Damian follows him with relative ease. Which is still real damn worrying, but he can dwell on it when they get to the house.

Still, he keeps a close eye on Damian the entire time they’re leaping rooftops. The boy was six, he didn’t have the same stamina nor height that Danny did — it’d be too easy for Danny to lose him on the way to the house because he couldn’t keep up, or he decided to change his mind while Danny was distracted and book it in another direction.

They reach the house in no time, and Danny’s fishing for his key from his belt the moment his feet hit the concrete of the rooftop. Damian remains behind him, an ever-constant shadow as Danny ducks under the various legs, wires, and poles of the OPPS Center and unlocks the door to the roof.

Getting to his room is a relief. The strange, buzzing sensation that settles through Danny’s eyes like a thin film whenever he’s using his ‘scary eyes’ dissipates, and he’s kicking off his boots with a low sigh before he can really think it through. He’ll put them back in their place when he’s done — but for now, he just wants them off. Damian pools in behind him, slinking off to the corner of the room as Danny shuts the door.

His room is spotless — a cleaning habit he’s kept meticulously since he wanted to be an astronaut. He had planets hanging from the ceiling, glow in the dark stars muttered against the walls, and posters of astronomy, Dumpty Humpty, and NASA plastered beside the stars. And a large corkboard hanging above his desk.

“Finally.” he groans, twisting his hips and stretching out his back before reaching over and turning on the hanging lights. A soft orange glow fills the room, and Danny turns just in time to see Damian jump in surprise. He’d moved over to Danny’s bookshelf on the opposite side of the room, his body half turned away and tilted like he’d been inspecting it.

Danny stifles a smile, and tugs off his thermos and grappling hook and places them on the desk. Damian straightens up, shuffling away from the bookshelf and back over to him, his brows beginning to furrow with a look of determination.

He marches towards him, “Laqad wasalna 'iilaa manzilika, walan ealayk 'an tafi bikalimatik watakhlae qanaeaka.”

Danny doesn’t know what he’s saying, but Damian points to his face while he’s speaking so Danny figures it out relatively quickly. Besides, it’s not like he’d forgotten either. He has to take off his mask to sleep, and it’s easier to change when he’s not wearing it. He grabs his phone from his pocket.

[I know, I’ll take off my mask. But remember: you can’t attack me.] He hits play, and watches Damian scoff for the nth time, roll his eyes, and nod. As if to reassure him, or to prove that he wasn’t going to attack him, Damian folds his arms behind his back.

Briefly, Danny feels himself nearly frown again at Damian’s almost soldier-like posture. But he has time to worry about that later, he shoves his phone back into his pocket. Danny raises his hands and curls his fingers around the bottom of his mask.

Carefully, mindful of the straps, Danny pulls it off. The cool air immediately rushes over his damp forehead, and he quickly shakes his head with bated breath to get the strands of hair plastered to his skin off. He locks eyes with Damian, tense, and with air trapped in his lungs.

Damian’s eyes widen comically, his scowl softening for a moment. For a moment, Danny thinks that maybe things will be fine…ish. But then Damian’s face is scrunching up again, his face sharpening angrily, and his hands reach for his sword.

“Dijaal!” He hisses, fire lighting in his eyes as he grabs for his katana.

Danny takes a step back and holds his hand out, narrowing his eyes defensively. “Hey, hey, hey!” He hisses back, he points a finger at Damian accusingly, arching an eyebrow. “You promised!”

Apparently, the tone of ‘no takesies-backsies!’ transcends language, because Damian freezes where he stands and simply remains glowering at him. Danny raises his eyebrow higher, locking him in a staring contest, and Damian takes his hand off the hilt.

Great. Good. Fantastic even! Crisis avoided, and no parents woken up in the process. That’s a success if Danny’s ever heard one. He keeps his eyes on Damian, before slowly reaching for his phone again. It’s like having a stand-off with a bull. A tiny, six year old-sized bull with a sword rather than horns, but a bull nonetheless.

He gets his phone out safely, and gets out the translator. Again. [I know I’m a clone of your dad. I didn’t ask to be. I still want to help you.] And he does, he so much does. Danny was a bleeding heart, forever and always. If he can help, he will. He hopes that the blood he is made from won’t stop Damian from accepting that help.

Damian stares him down, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to analyze Danny’s every move. Danny stays still and lets him, waiting for the jurisdiction of the small assassin.

Whatever it is that Damian sees, it causes him to drop his hands to his side with an irritated sigh just like before. He says nothing, but the resigned slump of his shoulders tells Danny all he needs to know, and he beams.

Success, he thinks, laughing quietly in earnest. [Stay here.] He quickly types into his phone and plays. He reaches for his thermos. [I need to release the ghosts in my device, then I’ll show you how to use the translator.]

He plucks the thermos from his desk and tosses his phone over Damian’s head and onto the bed. It bounces, Damian grumbles something under his breath, and the phone bounces again. Danny puts the mask down, and dances out the door and down into the lab with practiced ease.

When he returns, Damian is snooping around his room, looking around his desk this time around. He straightens up when Danny steps into the room, and Danny doesn’t bother addressing it — instead he grabs his phone again and gestures for Damian to sit on the bed with him.

It takes a painfully long amount of time to show Damian how to use the translator, with a ton of repetition and fiddling around. But they manage, finally, to get a system up where Danny will type something into the translator, play it back to Damian, and then hand the phone to Damian. Damian then would swap the translation, use text-to-speech, and play it in english.

Naturally, text-to-speech has its flaws, and Damian is only recently learning how to read, so Danny figures out the translation errors on his own. They don’t talk for long, Damian is shut off, snooty, and reserved to him. All Danny knows is that his name is Damian Al Ghul, and he is the blood son and second heir to something called the League of Assassins.

How cheery. “League of Assassins” sounds definitely evil. Ancients, Danny doesn’t wanna know. He’ll have to get involved if he knows any more.

He lets Damian fiddle with the translator more in regards to searching his closet for clothes for Damian to wear. He doesn’t have any shorts that will fit, but he pulls out an old NASA t-shirt that still somewhat fits him, and tosses it to Damian.

After much arguing, he gets Damian to wear it, and he gives Damian the bed. That takes less arguing — Damian is all too happy to sleep in a bed rather than the floor, and Danny pulls his beanbag chair out from its nook to shove it under his desk.

He’s still awake by the time sunlight begins peeking over the buildings, his eyelids heavy and sore with exhaustion, and his limbs feeling loose and disconnected. He’s fixed up his gloves — torn from the katana, but now half-heartedly sewn up with thread and a lot of muttered swearing on Danny’s part. His mask is shoved in a hidden pocket in his backpack along with his thermos.

Damian is fast asleep in bed, and with nothing else to do, Danny keeps his sharp eye on him. Swamped in Danny’s shirt and curled up under the covers, Damian is teeny. Well, he was small even before that, but it is even more apparent when tucked under blankets meant for people bigger than him.

And, for perhaps the third time that night, Danny is hit with just the sheer longing of how much he wants to help him. Danny is the hand that feeds, and Damian has a lot of teeth. The cut of his gloves is more than proof enough of that. But Danny wants to help him, Damian has no one else here to. Danny, so far, is the only one who can help him.

He is also hit with the sheer magnitude of what he’s just done — the terrifying revelation that Danny’s just taken in the clone of his template’s son. What the hell does that make for him and Damian’s relationship? Genetically, Danny is technically his father, but they’re complete strangers to one another.

What does that mean for Danny? It’s been four months since his parents revealed their betrayal. Their lies. Their backstabbing, earth-shattering, fifteen years of astounding— the truth to Danny about his… birth. Four months isn’t long enough to deal with something like that. He is still questioning everything he does — whether his actions belong to him, or to Bruce Wayne.

And this? This just takes the fucking cake.

Danny breathes in deeply, snapping himself out of the slow-creeping spiral threatening to drag him under the waters of his mind. His eyes flick to the window. It’s too early to think about this. Much, much too early. He slinks into his beanbag with a low groan, stifling back a groan.

He can worry about the identity crisis and his crisis of autonomy later. Later, when he’s not mind-numbingly exhausted and already mentally fragile from that alone. Not when there’s a teeny baby assassin sleeping in his bed who happens to be his son? Cousin? Brother? template’s son’s clone.

With sunlight peeking through the windows, he slinks out from under his desk to prepare for another day.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #danny fenton is a clone #clone^2 #dpdc au #dpxdc fic #dpdc fic #danny fenton is not the ghost king #starry's writing #ao3 tag highlights: Accidental Little Brother Acquisition #Cat Distribution System Except Its A Child #i crave validation and attention so whoops #danny: wow that is a child! Why Is The Child Violent #danny: ahaha i can ignore my identity crisis if i focus on Literally Anything Else

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foreverisntenough · 23 hours

Text

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

Index:

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, mention of the word ‘daddy,’ kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Chapter 1 - Size of A Plum | ‘Ours’

Pancakes. That was the only thing in your mind since you went to sleep last night. It was obscenely early so Trent was still fast asleep when you slipped out of your bedroom. He had a game last night and although you knew he preferred to wake up and have a cuddle with you after being knackered from his match. Unfortunately for him, your pregnancy cravings were not going to be as understanding as you knew he would be. You tiptoed down the stairs and crept into the kitchen. You turned on the warm lights and looked out into the still dark morning outside. You moved around the kitchen seamlessly pulling out all the ingredients for blueberry pancakes. It was hard not to make any noise as you whisked the batter in a ceramic bowl but you tried your best. You knew things were still fairly easy for you this early in your pregnancy so you were cherishing the morning and moments of fleeting ease and alone time. You swayed back and forth in a pair of Trent’s joggers and a little tank top focused on getting the pancakes a perfect golden brown humming the song currently stuck in your head. You were oblivious to the fact that a sleepy Trent had snuck into the kitchen. Your heart just about stopped when you felt his warm hands come around your waist. He tucked his head onto your shoulder and rested his chin on you.

“Hi baby…” you whispered, twisting your neck to try to land a quick peck on him. Your free hand rubbed over his arms that had wrapped tightly around you. He only hummed, pressing a kiss to your bare skin. “Sorry, I really wanted pancakes. I didn’t mean to wake you up, sleepy boy.” Your thumb continued to brush his strong arms in front of you.

“Cute...” he whispered with another kiss. He squeezed you a little tighter. He thought everything you did since becoming pregnant was adorable. You personally thought your indecision and late night cravings were annoying but if he thought otherwise you weren’t going to be the one to ruin it for him. Anything you wanted, he handled it and he loved doing it. Trent would get up in the middle of the night and drive to the shop just to get the specific red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting you were thinking about. .

“I know you don’t want these.” You giggled, flipping a pancake over. You knew this was not Trent’s breakfast of choice. He hummed a ‘nuhuh’ He could barely get any words out he was so tired. You felt bad he was even standing up with you. “Want an omelet, T?” He didn’t respond, he just kissed your shoulder again. You slid the spatula under the pancake and plopped it onto a plate off to the side and turned off the burner. You spun around encased in his arms. You brought your hands up to cup his face. You rubbed your nose against his. “Can you at least go lay on the couch for me? You’re making me feel bad. I’ll come bring it over to you when I’m done.” You cooed before pressing your soft lips against his. It only elicited another hum. His eyelids were so heavy you could barely see his beautiful big brown eyes making you feel that much worse he was awake.

“Promise you’ll come be with me? I want to spend my morning with you, baby.” He slid his hands in your his joggers to lay over your ass. His hands massaged over the soft skin. You smirked at his affectionate touch. Trent was always inadvertently so touchy when he was sleepy. He was so clingy and it made you melt. It was so cute for someone who typically liked to be alone, that, in these moments, he wanted to be so close to you.

“I promise” you assured him with a kiss.

“Good” he mumbled out before letting go of you. He pressed a sleepy kiss to your cheek and turned to leave the kitchen. You watched him tiredly trudge off rubbing his hands over his eyes. His exposed back muscles looked really really good. You swooned at him doused in morning light. When you were finished cooking, you quietly shuffled over to the living room. You didn’t know if he might’ve fallen back asleep because it was so dark in the room but he was there nestled up in the corner of the couch watching the tv. He just hadn’t been able to manage turning on any lights.

“Can I turn a light on?” You whispered, carrying two plates and waters under your arm. He nodded. So you awkwardly turned them on holding the food. You sat down next to him and put everything down on the coffee table. You tucked your legs into a crossed position and settled back into the big cushion behind you. Trent was ironically quick with his sleepy movement to come and collapse over into your lap. He laid over your legs turning his head to your body away from the tv. He kissed at your bare stomach.

“I’m sorry” he murmured out against your skin between kisses.

“For what?” You giggled looking down at him stroking your hand over his head.

“I should be taking care of you…” you could tell in his tone that he genuinely felt really guilty. He liked his sleep. He didn’t need to feel bad for that. You wanted him to get some rest. You didn’t need him this morning. If you did, you probably wouldn’t have wanted to wake him after a match but you might’ve asked.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” You promised him continuing to stoke his face.

“Thank you” he said before sitting up right. His hand came to hold your jaw and turned your head towards him. He kissed your lips gently before turning to his plate. He took the first bite and gave a dramatic ‘mmmmm’ in delight at the taste of his omelet. “How lucky am I to have you, Ms. Y/L/N” you just giggled at how ridiculous he was. It was only eggs. You wiped the side of his mouth with your thumb. You ate your breakfasts together and then snuggled up laying on the couch for the rest of the morning. You gazed up at him and he just looked so comfy. He looked sleepy and happy but also just so at home. You knew he literally was at his home but you felt it was nice to see him so relaxed. You nuzzled up into his chest and laid practically on top of him as he watched sky sports tick on about something happening in La Liga. He was so warm and he smelt so good you felt yourself becoming intoxicated by it, falling into the same state of sleepy relaxation he was in. He rubbed his hands over you slowly and over time his hands found their way underneath your thin tank top.

“You look good today” he cooed as he drowsily kissed you all over.

“Just today?” You cheekily teased. Lifting your head a little to see him not particularly impressed with your joke so early.

“Everyday” he confirmed anyway with a more substantial peck of his lips on your head. “You doing okay, beautiful?” He asked, thinking about the passing weeks and early stages of the pregnancy. You just hummed a ‘mmhmm’ and he was too tired to press for something more. “Our baby is so lucky. Going to have the most beautiful mummy.” Followed by more kisses. You didn’t even realize you were falling to sleep but being in his loving embrace had that effect. It probably was from how early you had gotten up but no matter you were out like a light soon after his the last words rang in your head. Trent kept you on his chest stroking his warm hands up your back until he decided to wiggle out from under you to get up. You moaned a little but he just gave you a kiss and tucked you in with a blanket. You curled right up, staying asleep, unconsciously okay with the new arrangement. He picked up the finished plates and brought them back to the kitchen and did the dishes. Trent was really good about pulling his weight with any household things like dishes or laundry. He wasn’t the best at them but he did them and you appreciated it. You did them more often just simply out of how much more time you were home compared to him but since the pregnancy he’d been so considerate trying to make sure you didn’t have to do anything at home. He sat at the kitchen island on his phone for a little before he trotted back over to you.

“Baby, George asked if I wanted to play FIFA with the lads. Do you care?” He whispered sitting down next to your frame as he stroked your arm laying overtop the blanket. Your eyes were barely able to flutter open.

“Why are you asking… yes?” You groaned confused he was waking you up for this. He laughed mocking your dramatic ‘yes’ before he got up and left for the cinema with a particularly wet kiss you winced at. When you woke up an hour or so later you scrolled aimlessly on your phone. You got a little notification from an app that your baby was about the size of a plum now. It made your heart flutter. That was so cute to imagine. You couldn’t wait to tell Trent but for now you knew he was in the middle of a game with friends. You lounged around until you got an unexpected FaceTime from your best friend, Lauren.

“Guess who's coming to see you!” She squealed

“Oh my god! Really?” You echoed her excitement.

“Yesss, I’m flying over in a few weeks…” she began to rant about how excited she was to go out and bang… it hit you. You hadn’t told Lauren you were pregnant yet. In a few weeks you wondered what size fruit your baby would be by then. You wouldn’t be able to go out the way you normally did. You promised you’d tell her first when this happened… How were you going to do this? You certainly weren’t going to tell your best friend over FaceTime. “Can you come to London?” Her voice cut your train of thought in half. She rattled off the exact dates she was going to be in the UK.

“Oh… erm, I should be able to. I have to check with T, like what’s he’s doing or…” you kind of babbled trying to think of you had any appointments or what Trent would think of you going or telling her about the pregnancy so early. There was so much going through your mind. Normally you wouldn’t think twice about a trip to see Lauren. “If he needs me at home. I should be able to. Sorry.” You shook your head at how silly you sounded.

“Wow…so domestic, it's giving wife.” She joked and you rolled your eyes. She said she could come up to see you if London was difficult for you. She didn’t understand why you were being weird but regardless she wanted to see her best friend if she was in the same country. You had to make a plan.

When you hung up the phone, you realized you needed to shower and get off this couch. You could hear Trent’s friend yelling about their game from the cinema as you walked by. You jogged upstairs and hopped in. As you stood under the water watching it cascade over your boobs you became increasingly more aware of your changing hormone levels. The sexual desire you were experiencing in the last few weeks was off the charts. You felt like you were horny all the time. Your nipples were so hard, completely unprovoked. You stared down at your stomach. You didn’t really have a bump yet but you felt like you could tell. You felt incredibly needy and desperate to be taken care of. When you stepped out of the shower you didn’t really bother with clothes. You were wearing hardly anything when you ran down the stairs directly to the cinema determined to find the boy you knew would take care of you. You stood in the doorway watching Trent playing fifa with all his friends online. You whined his name quietly and sheepishly.

“Mates, hold on.” Trent said to his friends. He turned toward you and smiled, unknowing of your plan. You walked over to him casually after he acknowledged you and just sat down on his lap immediately making out with him. He was taken aback but didn’t exactly stop you. His hands wrapped around your waist as yours ghosted under his shirt. You were sloppy and eager. He pulled away laughing. “I’m in the middle of a game, baby.” You tried to go in for another kiss, beginning to grind down on his lap subtly. He turned his head away from you with a big smile. “Okay, okay. C’mere.” He couldn’t stop laughing at your antics but insistently pulled you into a hug tucking his chin over your shoulder onto your back. You huffed at the rejection but sat on his lap anyways settling for his proximity, time being. Trent ran his hands up your bare back very quickly noting you weren’t wearing a bra before he picked up his controller again. He listened to the boys on the line discussing the game they were about to start playing. He pulled back from your embrace quickly to look at your desperate face with his smug one before they began the game.

“Aren’t you cold? You're not wearing very much, baby.” You shook your head ‘no.’ As much as Trent was committed to playing the game with his friend he wasn’t opposed to you sitting on his lap right now. In fact, he was particularly happy with your choice of clothes or lack thereof. He was going to make this as great for him and as hard for you as possible. “Sure you're not cold?” You shook your head ‘no’ again. “Well, if you're not… You might as well not be wearing this at all then, yeah?” You smirked at him, happy with the direction of his words thinking you were getting what you wanted. “Yeah, let’s get this off.” He cooed, pulling your shirt off over your head. You sat in front of him completely on display for Trent now. “You look so good, baby” he whispered with his hands stroking up your sides, eyes glued to your bare top half. His friends were about to start the fifa match when you wrapped your arms around him pushing your tits against him while rubbing yourself down on his thigh as Trent attempted to pay attention to what everyone was saying about the game. You could feel him getting harder as you cuddled into him, nibbling on his neck. He needed to adjust his dick now so he shuffled in the chair. You pouted at him unhappy with the change. You wanted to whine but you didn’t know if his mic was on.

“George, gimme one minute.” Trent barely got the words out. It was hard to think straight with your current state. He muted himself.

“Can you be quiet for me, beautiful?” He looked at you so seriously with lust burning behind his eyes. Your eyes lit up. You zipped over your mouth locking it with your hand. You couldn’t wait to see what he was about to do. You felt your mouth water. He pulled his hard cock that was about to start leaking precum out. “Want to sit first or can I start, baby?”

“You can start. I’ll be a good girl.” You whispered. Trent told his friends he was good to go. He started the game. You wasted no time lining his cock up with your wet entrance. You sank yourself down on his length carefully. The two of you silently gasped feeling him slip between your wet folds inside. You were slow but it wasn’t long until he filled you to the hilt. He felt so fucking big and then… he didn’t move. You panicked coming to realize you were in for it.

“Such a good girl f’me.” He whispered. You wanted to moan or move. Anything. You were absolutely dripping on him. It felt like ages you were sitting there desperately. You impatiently kissed his neck trying your best to persuade him to do something. Everytime you would take your efforts to far he would tease you more. It was excruciatingly and deliciously painful. The FIFA game clock was counting down. He was gonna be done soon, he knew that, you didn’t, so when he began to thrust up into you, you bit his neck harshly in an attempt to muffle the noises you were dying to let out. He hissed at the feeling of your teeth against his skin.

“You good Trentski?” One of the boys asked, caught off guard by the noise.

“Yeah, yeah dropped something” he lied followed by a little snicker.

“Another game?” Another boy asked when they finished.

“Eh sorry, bro, I’m out. I gotta go lads” Trent spoke pulling you off his chest to see you. You smiled deviously at him. “Yeah, lads, I gotta go, I'm sorry.” His hands worked up your body to come and tease your nipples. Your mouth dropped into a pleasurable ‘o.’

“Alright, bro. See you later. Bye, Y/N.” George cooed. He could tell immediately by the change in Trent’s tone and breath. You giggled at George before you gasped when Trent thrusted up once more, turning off his game.

“What do you need?” He whispered. His low, raspy voice sent waves of pleasure all over your body. Your body responded to him like it was his… in fact, it was his. You didn’t respond as you tried to bounce on his cock. He held you still by your hips firmly down on him. “Answer me, baby” he demanded.

“Can I ride you, please.” You whined still trying to move against him.

“Yeah, beautiful. You can, go on.” He shushed you softly, letting go over your hips running his hands down the curve of your ass. As much as Trent was in control right now he couldn’t help but feel a little hypnotized by your body as you began to ride him. You shut your eyes tight with your mouth agape as your tits bounced. The sight was enough to make him cum. You flashed your eyes up to look at him. The look in your eyes made Trent tense. “Oh baby, don’t give me that face. I’m not gonna last.” He grunted out. He slapped your ass and you smirked. You moaned at the second. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you. “Fuck baby, squeezing me so tight. You want to cum for me? Let me feel you cum on my cock, baby, please.” He begged. He knew exactly what to do, what to say to get you there.

“Ah fuck. T… T… oh my god. T…” you moaned feeling the tight knot in your stomach snap.

“There you go. Say my name, beautiful. Tell me who this pussy needed.” Your eyes rolled back. You couldn’t do anything but give into your next orgasm building up. The room filled with the sound of your skin slapping. It didn’t take long for your pussy to clench around his cock pulling his orgasm from him. He cursed as he filled you. His cum painted your was white. Your sensitive pussy overflowing with both of your juices.

“Holy shit, baby.” You whined. As he stilled inside of you finishing out his high. He collapsed his head into the valley of your boobs when he was done. You thought you were done, until you felt him starting to suck on your nipples.

“C’mon let’s go again, baby. Need you.” Trent muffled into your tits. He picked you up by your ass and held you up aligning your dripping core with his hardening cock. He fucked up into again for a while before you could feel that familiar knot tightening again.

“Oh my fucking god, T! I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum all over your cock, baby!” You moaned, feeling your pussy clench around his pulsing cock.

“That’s it, baby. Let me make you cum. Let me hear you. Cum on my cock.” Trent groaned as he continued hitting onto your sensitive nipples. You panted overwhelmed with the feeling. “You’re such a good girl f’me.” His thrusts started to become sloppy feeling his own release approaching. Your legs with a quivering mess, your toes curling at the mind blowing delectation you were experiencing.

You moaned when you felt a second orgasm crash over you. You threw your head back, your dripping pussy clenching deliciously around his cock. His thrusts didn’t seize, continuing to drill your pussy with the need to reach his own release

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna cum, baby. Take it f’me. Take it like a good girl.” His orgasm quickly approached. He watched your beautiful face. You were completely in a daze. Your eyes were half lidded looking at him. You were so in love with him. “You’re mine. You’re all mine.” Trent groaned as he came for a second time. He stilled exhausted. You collapsed your head onto his shoulder and held onto him. After awhile he pulled your sticky body off his for a moment to pull himself out. He groaned at the sight of his soaked cock. He sat back in his chair admiring his view. You straddled over him sweaty, panting, dripping. You cuddled up to him. You relished in the warmth that was radiating off your naked bodies. This was all he ever needed, you completed his existence.

“You know what I was thinking?” You giggled while walking to the kitchen for water. You finally were coming back to reality although still completely spent.

“What’s that, pretty girl?” Trent said, squeezing your side before sitting on a chair at the kitchen island. He pulled you in between his legs giving you a childish full toothy smile. You began to ramble. He just liked to listen to you. Your voice and accent were comforting. He didn’t really care what the topic was. He just wanted to hear what your thoughts were, your opinions, the way your mind worked. He loved hearing you talk and he let you just smiling at your animated face. You giggled and his chest warmed. He wanted the sound to be on loop for him forever. He never wanted you to not be giggling with him. He held you in the kitchen while you babled away completely smitten and enamored by you. You were the only woman he ever wanted.

At the end of the week, you and Trent were attending an event in Manchester. It was a gala for a charity a friend was having. It was massive; a ton of people you didn’t know would be there. The second you heard about it you began to worry about hiding your bump. You were keeping the pregnancy quiet for now. Trent wasn’t keen on going to the event but he had to. He was really anxious and while you usually would go with him regardless you definitely were going to this one just to hold his hand to make him feel better. He wasn’t crazy about big social gatherings. Neither were you but Trent especially hated it. You weren’t loving the way you had been looking lately. You felt so uncomfortable in your own skin. It made you apprehensive about the event but if your company made Trent less nervous you were going to be there. You put on a strapless black gown that hugged your figure perfectly but the thickness of the material made it so it wasn’t clinging to your growing stomach. It had a high slit on one side that exposed your thigh and gave a glimpse at the pair of heels you were in. You had gotten your nails done earlier in the week and asked Trent what color to get when you couldn’t decide. He told you he liked when you got a pink you usually wore. You could’ve made that decision on your own but you liked to have his opinion. As he held your hand in the car on the way to the event that night his fingers stroked over your long nails smiling that his opinion mattered to you. As Trent helped you step out of the car you felt the warmth of the camera’s lights. The photographers out front snapped away. Trent kept his hand on the small of your back as you walked towards them. His touch always made you feel more secure. He made you comfortable no matter where you went together but especially in these situations where the media was there to cover your every move. He looked down at you and rubbed his thumb over your back. He dropped his hand off your back and came to grab yours. He squeezed it to let you know he was with you. He really thought you were the one helping him but it couldn’t have been more opposite. He was the only reason you could manage something like this. You just stared up at him in a daze, just completely and utterly obsessed with him. When you were inside, he introduced you to people he knew through football. He kept you close to him. Despite your anxiety, you were naturally very good with people. They were drawn to you. People often described you to be pretty like a doll, like a model or ballerina. Your slicked back bun tonight really reinforced that imagery. You radiated a glow that had men drooling and women envious. Trent always felt really proud to have you by his side at these events. His big brown eyes watched as you spoke. He loved the sound of your saccharine voice as you spoke to the people you just had met while they rapidly fell in love with you. The way you moved and the way you carried yourself was perfection personified. Like the rest of the room, he was completely captivated by you. Trent was transfixed on you the whole night. The Van Clef necklace Trent gave you when he asked you to be his girlfriend laid over your protruding collarbones illuminated. He smiled everytime it caught the light reminding him you were his. You weren’t even sure he knew anyone else was at the event but you. You stood up from your seat to bop to the bathroom quickly. Trent stood up with you worried you weren’t feeling well but you assured you simply only had to pee. Happy you were actually okay he sneakily gave your ass a light slap. You rolled your eyes at his cheek. When you walked into the restroom there were 3 girls all at the mirror touching up their makeup so you just smiled before picking a stall. You were almost finished when you overheard them talking.

“Did you see that Trent Alexander-Arnold is here tonight?” They grabbed your attention immediately. You tried to be quiet to listen a little bit closer.

“Yeah, I think he was with a girl though… is he taken? I honestly don’t follow footie but he’s well fit” One girl responded to the other.

“I’ve been DMing with him. I don’t care. Fucking on the low” You almost audibly gasped. Your mouth hung open. You felt emotions rush behind your eyes. Tears filled your lash line but you blinked a few times trying to focus on listening to what they said next.

“Stop… no fucking way. You are?” One girl squealed at the other’s confession. They were freaking out for their friend while you felt like you were going to be sick.

“In case you were wondering… to no surprise the dick is perfect.” That was it. You felt absolutely broken. You didn’t know if you were going to pass out, get sick, cry, or maybe all three at once. After a while listening to them gush about one girl being Trent’s sneaky link they left the bathroom. You just stayed put. Trent was starting to get worried where you were. Your phone was buzzing uncontrollably with texts from him. You tried to pull yourself together. You stared in the mirror looking at yourself. What the fuck were you meant to do now. You had always worried about what would happen if things ever fell apart but you had kind of thought you had moved past that possibility until this very moment. You stared at the tears rolling down your face pulling your makeup down with them. What were you supposed to do now that you heard he was cheating on you. You were shaking, gripping onto the bathroom counter. Were you supposed to say something? Were you supposed to go back to the US? Were you supposed to raise the growing baby in your stomach on your own? The tears kept falling. You decided you would pull yourself together, tell Trent you're leaving, get home and stay in a guest room until you figured out if you should stay or not. Your heart felt like it was in a million pieces. You wiped the tears from under your eyes and reapplied your lipstick. Taking a few breaths, you walked out the restroom door eyes fixed on the floor trying your very best to keep the tears from flooding back. That plan fell apart almost immediately when you picked your head up and were met with Trent standing in front of you.

“Are you okay, baby? I was so worried.” He cooed, stepping towards you. You held your hands up in protest. Your eyes began to water.

“You were worried?!” You shot back at him. His brow furrowed confused by your tone and the look on your face.

“Is it the baby? Is everything okay?” He was genuinely distressed. He didn't like the look you were giving him but he put it aside for the moment concerned about his future child unknowing of the girls you had just encountered.

“No… it was the girl you’ve been fucking in the bathroom.” You quipped. His face twisted in confusion. Were you kidding? He obviously wasn’t fucking anyone else. He was either with the team or cuddled up to you. He didn’t have any interest in other women and frankly he didn’t have the time to entertain one.

“What the fuck are you on about? I’m not cheating on you.” He batted back at you incredibly confused and incredibly innocent. You only rolled your eyes, not impressed with his response. Trent was fuming but he was more concerned about your current condition. “You’re the love of my life. You’re the mother of my child. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You think I’m that stupid to fuck this up? That someone else would even have a shot with me when I have you?” He spoke sternly but not aggressively. “I barely even know any people here!”

“I don’t know maybe you would, it seems you definitely do know someone. She said you’ve been DMing her.” You muttered out, starting to question the truth of the girl in the bathroom’s words seeing Trent’s confusion.

“I’ll be happpy to show you my fucking DMs but that’s insane baby this isn’t true and you shouldn’t believe that it is. You need to believe me. Who is she… where is she?” You sensed his anger seep into his words as he started to question who the fuck was trying to ruin his happy relationship for in an attempt for some clout.

“I don’t want to see your DMs.” You quivered out starting to cry. You were too tired to deal with this. Too emotional to try to sort through what you were feeling.

“She’s lying. Just wanted attention, beautiful, C’mere.” He pulled you into him. He held you tight. “I love you so fucking much. I didn’t even know there were other women out in the world anymore. Only you.” He laughed a little and you did in response hearing the sweet sound. “I am never going to hurt you. I never would. You’re all mine baby and I’m all yours.” Your heart beat started to slow wrapped in his embrace. You were his from the moment he met you and you should’ve remembered that.

“Can we just go home?” you whispered. The words were tiny and fragile. Trent pouted seeing your tear stained face. His pout turned into a soft frown when he looked down at you.

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry, baby. It’s unfair you always have to deal with this shit.” He cooed, keeping you close to him as you walked. You were on your way out when curiosity got the better of Trent. “So… who am I fucking?” You scanned the room and pointed at the women you had seen in the bathroom. “Not even my type.” He laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You slapped at his chest.

“It’s not funny, T!” You giggled. You knew he felt bad and was using humor to try to lighten the mood. Trent would never cheat on you. You believed him wholeheartedly but when things like this happened it was hard not to feel hurt by hearing girls talk about him like that. He understood but he did nothing but reassure you were the only one. At the end of the day it was you he always came home to. You were his whole world. You were his dream come true.

“You okay?” Trent whispered as you laid on his chest back at home tucked in your bed. His hands rubbing up and down your bareback under a shirt of his you were wearing.

“Right here? Yeah, I am.” You confirmed that you felt safe in his arms. The night didn’t go particularly well but it was all okay now.

“Good, it’s where you’re staying. Not going anywhere, baby.” He whispered as you hid yourself in the nape of his neck. You muttered an ‘okay’ quietly. Trent held you tight to him engulfing you in his embrace. He hoped you could feel how much he loved you in the way he held you. He hoped you could feel it in the way his arms wrapped you like they were always meant to be right there. “I’m yours forever. Forever and ever, all yours” he cooed. You could feel your chest warm as you cuddled a little closer to him. “I mean it, baby. I appreciate you so much, you have no idea. I’m so sorry about tonight. It’s so unfair to you” for a moment, his eyes look a little glassy, swimming in guilt. “I really, really am.” You felt bad that he felt so guilty. He couldn’t control what other people said about him. Sure, tonight was not a fun experience but it wasn’t so bad now back in his arms. You squeezed him tighter letting him know it was okay. “Gonna let go of me tonight?” He laughed at the tightness of your hold.

“No, never.” You giggled only squeezing him more.

“Okay, good” he muffled into your hair with a kiss. You let your senses dull, clinging to him. You absently listened to the rain falling outside comforting you when you were in his steady arms.

“Do you know the baby is the size of a plum now?” You spoke softly to Trent with a quiet giddy giggle. He hummed and pulled your head off his chest and towards him. He pressed his soft lips to yours and you melted. You fell asleep that night not worried about the girl in the bathroom but safe with the boy in your bed.

You sat at Trent’s home match a few days later. You were with Tyler in the seats outside the box. You were freezing. You sniffled brushing your icy red nose. You watched the minutes tick by until the ref blew his whistle for the first half to end. Tyler asked if you wanted anything to drink and you awkwardly declined. He furrowed his brow at you but accepted your answer. You typically drank at matches with Trent’s brothers so it was a little odd. You still hadn’t told either of your families, or literally anyone yet and it was becoming more and more difficult. You scrolled on your instagram when Tyler popped inside. You saw a Liverpool fan account had tagged you in a photo sitting in the stands today. It wasn’t anything new but you started to worry the general public might deduce you were pregnant before you got the chance to tell everyone on your own terms. The game went on and little shivers ran through your body, down your spine, and all you could do was clench your chattering teeth and dig your nails into the skin of your palms. Heavy rain fell onto the pitch without mercy. You were cold just looking at Trent all wet but to his credit, he looked really really good like that. When the game finished Trent came up to the box as always. You stood waiting in one of his hoodies. It was unreasonably soft and you had stolen it about a day after he got it. Trent didn’t mind. He liked to see you in his clothes. You looked so comfy in them pulling the sleeves over your hands almost drowning in the fabric. He came into the box and he looked at you all warm and cozy. He had never wanted to hug you more than he did right now. Seeing you in his clothing sent a tremor of pure warmth through his chest. It started in his heart and spread throughout his entire body. He couldn’t bring himself to resist the soft curl of his lips, gazing at you so lovingly. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a kiss. As you left Anfield with him you held his hand walking to the car park. Your anxiety from the instagram post still lingered.

“T… You think I should still come to games when my bump starts to show more?I feel like people are already staring.” You cooed looking up at Trent before he went to unlock the car.

“Nah, baby. Maybe stop being so beautiful and people will stop staring.” He laughed, not taking your question very seriously. You gave him a knowing look. He walked with you to the passenger side to open the door for you. You silently thanked him and got in. “Alright, alright. I get what you’re saying though. We’ll play it by ear. Okay?” He cooed, coming to sit in the driver's seat before throwing his white Goyard wash kit into the back. You hummed and just smiled looking at him, focusing on reversing out of the parking spot. He was so unfairly pretty doing the most mundane things. The sharpness of his jawline, the pout of his lips, the way his eyes glimmered, all wildly unfair. Trent was exhausted when you got home. He laid dramatically on the bed while you massaged his feet mindlessly sitting at the end. You stopped your hands on his foot and began to work up his leg. He groaned in satisfaction feeling your hands on him. Your horniness lately had been hard to control, you just always wanted him to be naked and this moment was no exception. He looked so good and that’s when you found yourself with his cock down your throat.

“Fuck… baby I’m gonna cum.” He groaned out. You didn’t want him to cum like this. You had other plans. So you slowly drew off him and he looked at you wide eyed and desperate. You sat back and proceeded to knead your tits, wrapping them around his cock, Trent’s eyes only widening more. You began your efforts to make him cum all over your tits. You slowly massaged your boobs up and down his cock. Intently squeezing them tightly around him.

“You like fucking my tits, T?” You moaned as you continued working your tits on his pulsating cock.

“Fuck! So so much, baby. You’re gonna make me cum. Gonna let me cum on your perfect tits, baby?” The sight of your boobs engulfing his cock so snug between them erased nearly every thought in his mind

“Cum all over my tits, baby” With that he stilled as he pumped his cum all over you. He moaned out your name repeatedly. Trent’s head fell back and he laid motionless. His chest rising and falling exasperated.

“Jesus, that was so fucking hot” Trent panted. Attempting to regain control of his breath. His tired gaze shifted to a lustful one. He was trying to wrap his head around the image in front of him. You played with the cum on your chest with your fingers swirling it over your nipples before bringing them to your lips. You climbed over top of him watching his cock spring back to life. He pulled you down into a kiss. He rolled you over on the bed to be in top of you. “Where do you want my cum now, baby? Hmm?” He cooed caressing your body. You gave him a mischievous smile with heavy eyelids. God, he fucking loved you. His big brown eyes met yours, your breathing getting heavier and heavier. Your nails dug into his back muscles as he slid inside of you. Your back arched off the bed with a gasp. He rocked into you. Trent’s cock stretched you deliciously hitting the spot only he knew. The squelching sound of your skin slapping against each other.

“You look so fucking good carrying my child, baby.” He grunted looking down at your perfect body. “Gonna fill you up. Fill my pussy up with my cum again.” You felt the knot in your stomach about to snap when Trent guided his hand down between your bodies and seamlessly rubbed tight circles on your clit. You moaned out in pleasure.

“There you go, baby. Cum f’me. Make a fucking mess on my cock.” He commanded you. Only he could make you feel this good. He continued to thrust into you relentlessly when you began to tremble underneath him. “Just like that. There you go.” Your pussy dripping all over him just the way he loved. It wasn’t long before he was close to his own release. You had the boy totally whipped, he was obsessed with you and your pussy. He presses his body weight down on you. He buried grunts into your neck before he moved his face closer to yours pulling you in for a messy kiss. Suddenly all at once he came inside you. His cock pulsed, his cum spilling inside of you in thick ropes, he could barely breathe as your pussy squeezed around him more. He gave a few more sloppy thrusts before you both stilled.

“I love you so much.” You panted out of breath before you both went quiet for a little absolutely exhausted. Trent laid down next to you and pulled your limp body back into his. He peppered kisses onto your hair. You cuddled up to him so comfortable, so full, so tired. “My baby” you murmured softly against his skin. You kissed his bare chest. “My sweet, sweet baby.” Trent was so vulnerable with you. He was often so tough and guarded but he loved when you called him things like that. He was more sensitive around you then he led on, you made him soft. He held you tighter, rubbing his hand over your stomach.

“That I am. All yours.” He cooed with a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes fixed on your stomach. “Our little plum.” He giggled and you pouted at how cute it was. You felt yourself starting to drift off, lulled by the warmth of your bodies, the sound of his slowing heartbeat, and the love you felt. “Get a good sleep, beautiful. I have a surprise for you tomorrow…”

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 2 xx

#trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #taa66 #oursfic

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writeforfandoms · 10 months

Text

Born for Greatness: Bonus 1

Find the series masterlist

Okay here is the first bonus chapter! No reader here, not really. Just Price and Logan.

Warnings: Swearing, shifter behavior, world building.

Word count: 1k

Logan tucked his hands into his pockets as he surveyed the alpha before him. Captain John Price. He was clearly respected by his pack - even Logan’s kid liked him. At least, from what Logan had seen.

“Is this the part where you ask after my intentions?” Price sounded faintly amused, though there was still a bit of tension in his shoulders.

“Nah. Kid’s old enough to make her own decisions. ‘Sides, she out-stubborns me.” Logan smirked. If nothing else, that would be entertaining. For him.

Price leaned back a little. “Then what can I do for you?”

Logan was quiet for a few long moments, observing the other shifter. He was bigger than Logan (not that that was unusual) and broad. Strong. Clearly experienced, to have the position he held. Respected.

Really, his kid could do worse. Much worse.

“Show me ‘round.” Logan tipped his chin with a little smirk. Skipping the pleasantries and going straight for the meat of the conversation was something he did quite often now. In this case, that meant skipping the intentions talk and going straight to a little challenge to prove Price could provide for her.

It was bound to come up eventually. Logan was just speeding things along. He didn’t have all the time in the world, after all.

Price blinked but didn’t deny him. “Very well.” He led the way, glancing back only once.

Logan had seen his fair share of bases in his time. Had spent a lot of time on various bases. It was easy for him to see that this one was well-run and well-supplied. Both points in Price’s favor.

But it was still a base. Which was a point against him. His girl deserved the world, after all.

This place might suffice. Maybe.

The two paused out by a pond, away from the main activity of the base. Not a bad spot, really. Far enough away to have some privacy, still on base so it was protected. Not bad at all.

“Any objections so far?” Price glanced at him, keeping calm.

Logan had to admit he was a little (teeny tiny) bit impressed.

“Nah. Still not me you have to convince.” Logan smirked

Price was quiet for a few moments. “Do you anticipate her having objections?”

“Yes, but not the kind you’re thinking of.” Logan rocked back on his heels, frowning at the water. “Can’t tell you all of it. Not mine to tell. But her life hasn’t always been cushy.”

Price nodded slowly, arms crossing over his chest. “If she agrees…?”

Logan huffed softly. “Won’t say you’re the first to try,” he said slowly, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Price tensed. “But. If she agrees. She’s still my kid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of keeping her away from you. You’ll be free to visit, preferably with warning.” Price slanted a look at Logan, who merely smirked.

“Fair ‘nough. Your jobs?”

“Won’t be a problem. She will not be coming with us anywhere dangerous.” Price’s jaw tightened.

Logan chuckled. “And her job?”

“She’s free to do as she wishes.” Price shrugged. “I’m sure we can arrange to make things coincide, if she decides she’d like to continue traveling.”

Interesting. He’d put more thought into this than Logan had anticipated.

“Sounds like you’re determined.” Logan smirked. “You’ll need that.”

Price snorted softly and started walking again, a little slower this time, more leisurely. Logan kept pace easily.

“There are some things you should know,” Logan said slowly. “That I can’t tell you.”

Price eyed him. “Sounds like you’ve got a plan in mind.”

“Less a plan, more bullying.” Logan shrugged. “Kid needs some tossing out of her own head, sometimes.”

“What are you going to do?” Price sounded a little wary. Which… Okay, fair.

“Throw her in the pond.”

Price didn’t object immediately, which raised Logan’s opinion of him. “None of us will help if she tries to murder you.”

Logan tipped his head back and laughed. “That’s the only way I want to go out,” he agreed, grinning. “Fuckin’ kid has tried before. Stayed with me for two weeks when she was seventeen. Honestly still surprised we both survived that.”

Price’s lips twitched. “Was she a terror?”

“Little hellion,” Logan agreed. “Didn’t help I had no idea how to care for a teenager.”

“You know her parents?”

And there it was. Logan shook his head. “Nah. She doesn’t, either.”

Price caught on almost immediately, something sad in the tilt of his lips, even as he nodded his understanding.

“I’ll send you some pictures after I get back home,” Logan offered. A silent peace offering, a show of approval. “Don’t have any baby pictures to taunt her with, but teenage ones will have t’do.”

Price chuckled. “I’m sure Soap and Gaz will make the most of those,” he agreed dryly.

“Seem like good kids,” Logan agreed.

“Some of the best.” The pride in Price’s voice was clear. Logan approved. “Even when they are right pains in my arse.”

Logan snickered. “Kids,” he agreed with absolutely fake sympathy.

Another few minutes passed in quiet as they continued their tour, which had turned into a patrol of the perimeter. Not that Logan minded - sometimes this was easier. Besides, he’d already been on base a few days and knew his way around. This walk wasn’t so much about the actual tour as it was getting to know Price better, to see if he’d be a decent match for his girl.

“Not lookin’ to expand your pack, are you?” Logan eyed Price curiously.

“No.” The answer was short and solid.

“Hm.” Logan waited. He could be patient.

“You’re not…?” Price glanced at him finally.

“Me? Nah. I’m good on my own.” Logan reached up to scratch his chin. “But I keep my ear to the ground. Just in case.”

Price grunted. “If there’s someone with nowhere else to go, and you recommend them, I’d consider it.”

“Good.”

Logan paused by the outdoor obstacle course. Nobody else was using it. This could be fun. “Care to take a run through?” He jerked his thumb at the obstacle course.

Price eyed him. “Stakes?”

“Bottle of whiskey.” Logan smirked.

“You’re on.”

The two trudged back inside much later, both of them pleasantly tired, chuckling together like old friends.

Logan knew his kid hadn’t made up her mind yet, but he had a good feeling about this pack. Maybe he’d give her a little nudge in the right direction.

#born for greatness #shifter au #john price x reader #john price x you

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headspace-hotel · 10 months

Text

anyway

POND UPDATE

There are at least 2 frogs (i've seen 2 at once right next to each other) but most likely 3 or more

it's not a big pond—maybe like 12 square feet of water surface with various soggy and muddy areas around it. But I've planted a great variety of plants around it and already there are frogs.

It is in an area where water and mud always collected in the yard, downhill from what I suspect is a natural spring. I thought, it wants to be a wetland so bad, why not make it into one?

I think long term it might make kind of a vernal pool environment that is only periodically filled with water, but it seems to drain very little (the soil is heavy clay and there's bedrock 8 inches under the surface in much of the yard—the pond bottom is mostly stone) so maybe I should expand it outwards. Or who knows.

I love watching the mud-daubers fly back and forth from the bank gathering balls of mud to build their nests. I counted 15 skipper butterflies congregated around the edge at once. There are diving beetles everywhere.

Next to the natural spring area, some spikerushes have volunteered. I think the lawn grass may have been outcompeting them previously, but no more. Thrive, you funky little dudes!

#wetlands #frogs #pond #pondposting #native plant gardening

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imagines--galore · 16 days

Text

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Fifteen

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen

A/N: I am so excited! We're almost at the end of Book 2. Just five or six more chapters? Maybe less. But argh! This was a pain to get right!!!! Lemme know what you think folks!

Maybe this was a bad idea?

But bad ideas, always led to good ideas didn't they?

Something about the negative attracting the positive.

Or something of the sort.

It was too early to actually think straight.

Placing the small note she had quickly written to ensure Iroh and Zuko that she had simply gone to the Outer Ring for a little bending practice, Orora was quick to exit the apartment and make her way down the stairs and out of the building.

Glancing behind her, and seeing no candle suddenly burning, the young waterbender heaved a sigh of relief, before leaning back against the wall she had taken refuge behind.

Straightening the strap of her satchel, her lips pulled in a secret smile before she began to walk down the road.

"Little early for you to be going for a morning stroll, isn't it?"

A shriek the surely even the Spirits would've heard echoed in the early morning air.

Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest, as she whirled around to stare wide eyed at the smug looking banished prince leaning against a support beam of a building.

"Monkey-feathers Zuko! Are you trying to scare me to death?" Pressing a hand on her chest, as if physically willing herself to calm down, her gaze shifted from sudden fight to fury and annoyance. "And it is none of your business where I go. A girl is allowed her secrets." She stated in a rather haughty tone, prompting Zuko to raise an eyebrow at her. A smirk pulled at his lips, that infuriating smirk when he knew he had a comeback she had no answer to.

"What girl?"

Her nostrils flared, and an offended look overcame her features. "Humph." That was the best response she could come up with. Adding to that response, was a pivot on the heel and attempting to walk away in a huff.

Of course that didn't happen when Zuko reached out to grasp her by the elbow.

The sudden contact had her stopping dead in her tracks. Her head shifted to look over her shoulder where she could feel his warm hand against the bare skin of her elbow. Zuko seemed to be following the exact thought, since his eyes dropped to his hand as well.

Twin blushes stole across their cheeks, as Zuko slowly, almost as if he were reluctant to do so, let go of her elbow. She brushed her hair behind her ear, a habit she had picked up out of nervousness since her hair had grown long enough, he had noticed. "You know you're not supposed to wander around the city on your own." He reminded her, crossing his arms over his chest as he did.

Orora closed her eyes, letting out a sigh as she stared longingly at the Outer Wall that was just visible beyond the line of houses. "I know, but I didn't want to bother you, or Master. I just wanted to find an open space, and just waterbend." She admitted. "I heard about this lake, but its off-limits to the public, but if I could even find a small pond....." She trailed off, shoulders drooping in defeat.

"But you're right. I shouldn't have tried to go off on my own." Gripping the strap she let out a disappointed sigh. "We should head back. Your Uncle will worry if he sees us both gone."

She'd barely taken a step or two back towards the apartment building when she heard Zuko sigh.

"Wait." He called out, prompting Orora to come to a halt. She turned around to look at him, her gaze questioning. "I'll go with you." The firebender sighed out. Surprise flitted across her features, before a bright smile pulled at her lips.

"Really?" He barely had time to nod before she tackled him into a brief yet fierce hug. "Oh thank you Zuko! I promise I'll buy you a whole bag of moon peaches on our way back!" She vowed, smiling at him. Zuko blinked, still a little taken aback by the sudden embrace. At least he recovered physically, his head jerking forward in a nod.

His voice, however, was having a little trouble finding itself, while his mind was focused on the fact that Orora had hugged him. Granted it wasn't the first time, but he was starting to find that no matter how brief a touch he shared with Orora, it always meant so much to him.

Especially since that night just a day ago.

When he had kissed her, and she had kissed him back.

A hand gripping his brought him back from reliving that sweet memory. Rather then focus on the Orora in his mind, he instead turned his attention to Orora as she stood next to him, smiling at him in gratitude as she took his hand, and began to lead him towards the Outer Wall.

For once, he followed someone else. He allowed someone else to lead him.

Someone he trusted other than his Uncle.

————————–

The previous day had been interesting to say the least.

After the kiss, both teenagers had felt a little shy around one another. It wasn't everyday that someone went ahead and kissed their soulmate.

It was a life-changing moment.

Just one step away from formally acknowledging and accepting that the other person was your soulmate.

They were two very different things.

Both of them had laid under the stars together for another good hour. Though this time, neither of them met the other's gaze. Nor did they touch.

Or rather.

Not completely.

Their hands had been right next to one another, and Orora had found her small finger wrapping itself around his finger. Her hold had been gentle, but when he looped his own finger around her own, she had felt herself smile.

Alright so maybe her and Zuko were not going to be open about whatever had happened, but at least it had happened. That was a start.

A kiss.

Her first proper kiss.

As she recalled the moment, Orora could feel a smile forming on her lips. She quickly suppressed it by biting down on her lower lip.

But then he stood up and left without a word. Orora had been a little confused at first, but thought that maybe he was just as shy as she felt.

The next day had been as mundane as any other.

With an added perk.

Iroh had been at the front of the tea shop while she and Zuko had been washing dishes in the back. Standing beside one another, he washed, while she quickly dried using her waterbending. The both of them worked in silence, the clink of the cups and plates they were washing the only sound.

But that wasn't to say they weren't speaking.

Or rather, they weren't speaking verbally.

Every now and then, their gazes would meet, and something would pass between the both of them.

Every now and then their skin would graze when passing the cup or plate, and both would actually feel their senses come alive with that brief touch.

Every now and then a smile would pass between them, one that was equal parts shy, uncertain and almost, dare she say, hopeful.

Finally, finally, Orora had cleared her throat. "You know, back at the North Pole, there's a little game we play. Well I've heard of people playing it, I've never played it myself."

A little surprised at hearing her say something after such a long length of silence, he turned to look at her. She kept her eyes on the spoon he had just handed to her.

"That when two............soulmates find each other," Spirits, his cheeks felt like they were on fire. "A little competition starts, to see how they would be able to catch one another off guard." She explained, remembering how one of her maids had actually spoken to her about it.

Fiddling with the spoon she gripped in her fingers, the young waterbender girl lifted her head to look at him. "It allows them to get to know each other better and build some strange sense of trust."

Zuko blinked, finally realizing that her ice blue eyes were close.

Much too close.

"I know we're not at the North Pole, but........." She trailed off, her gaze open, earnest and pleading. And really, in what world could he ever say no to her.

His nod of confirmation was enough to have her smiling.

Though the mischievousness that danced in her eyes had him very nearly stepping back and going back on his word.

"Well since you caught me off guard on the roof top." Orora commented, gathering whatever strength and bravery she needed to continue.

"I suppose its my turn."

So saying, she raised herself up on her toes, given that she was a few inches shorter then him, and pressed a series of kisses, two on his cheeks, on either side, and one on his lips.

The moment she was done, Orora turned around and all but ran out to the front of the shop, leaving Zuko to stand their dumbfounded and unable to ascertain what had just happened.

Though once he did recover there was no denying that the smile that formed on his lips, and the happiness that he felt, was something he had not experienced in a long long time.

————————–

Starting the contest seemed to have broken the ice. Both teenagers went back to acting like their normal selves with one another. With a few added aspects.

For one, throughout the entire day, they would both do random little acts for one another. It wasn't to say that they didn't do anything for each other before, but now that it was a contest to see who would do more, they both decided to step up their game.

————————–

He'd caught her trying to pick up a huge stack of plates and cups. And though he'd been on break, Zuko had been quick to reach out and take most of the cutlery. She'd blinked at him, a little surprised knowing he was rather particular about his break.

Glancing over his shoulder and seeing no one there, Zuko had taken that moment to quickly peck her on the forehead, before walking away with the stack of plates.

Orora had been a little uncertain about whether Zuko would accept to play her game or not, but with that little gesture, she had her answer.

————————–

She stepped back a little from walking beside Iroh on the way back home and grasped his hand. A little daring considering Iroh could turn back and catch them at any moment, but that didn't stop him from squeezing her hand back.

————————–

Orora had been busy preparing dinner when Zuko had stepped up next to her. She had glanced at him, curious when he nodded towards the vegetables that still needed chopping. Her eyes widened in surprise.

He hated chopping vegetables.

Zuko simply rolled his eyes at her astonishment and began to peel and cut, leaving Orora smiling happily while Iroh stared at his nephew a little dumbfounded.

He wasn't as comfortable as Orora was when it came to phsyical acts of affection. Orora craved them, having gotten next to none growing up. It would seem her tactic of catching Zuko off guard was using little gestures of affection. While his battle plan for surprising her was helping her wherever she needed it.

————————–

Iroh had gone to bed a little early that night, so that left the two teenagers to do whatever they wanted. And what Zuko wanted, was to reach out and take Orora's hand before leading her up to the rooftop once more.

Which he did.

They spent hours up there, lying next to one another once more, just talking.

And for once it was Orora who told him about her life before she had met him. How her father and brothers had suppressed her, how her entire life had felt like she was walking on thin ice because of her father's temper. How he had lashed out at her most of the time and hit her multiple times. How she had tried her best to be the perfect daughter, but something inside her had always told her that this was wrong, that she wasn't meant to be treated that way. How she would sneak away to the Spirit Oasis because the place helped calm her and just play with the water. How, once, she'd even dared to step into the pond of the koi fish.

How her grandmother had given her waterbending scrolls as her final act of rebellion against the men in their lives. How she had honored that act by practicing her bending to train to become a fighter. How she had, finally, decided that she would not take the abuse any longer after nearly dying during the Siege. How her father had actually tried to hit her after she returned home, but she'd caught his descending hand using her waterbending. How she had knocked her brother aside with a wall of water, and frozen them to the floor. How she had looked her father in the eye, her very being radiating an anger that it actually had the temperature dropping in the room.

For the first time she had spoken her mind, and said what she had wanted to say for so so long. Her father had been too stunned to do anything. Her mother had stood in the corner, pride in her eyes where there had hardly been any emotion at all. Her brothers had stopped their struggle and had followed their father's example. Even though her father had already banished her, which had been the trigger causing her to act as she did, Orora had stated that she'd already made up her mind about leaving.

And then she had left.

Throughout the story, Zuko had never once looked away from Orora, even when she could not longer meet his gaze and instead focused on the night sky above. He had known she had gone through some trouble with her family, but he had no idea she still carried the scars of it, and that it still effected her. Then again, he carried his scars as well, physical and mental, so why should she be any different. He wasn't in any way comparing their pasts. They'd both had different experiences, both been treated harshly by their fathers and had been abandoned by their siblings to fend for themselves.

But then she revealed one final detail.

A detail that had Zuko's heart stopping in his chest, and a horrible feeling creeping all along his body, like pinpricks, and settling just under his skin where he could feel it the most.

The detail of how the verbal, emotional, mental and physical torture had gotten so bad at one point that she had actually considered just...........

She'd trailed off then, closing her eyes and feeling all that hurt, anguish and loneliness rise to the forefront of her mind. She'd put up a strong front all her life. Had never wavered when it came to her own sense of belief. But there were times when she had doubted and wandered if it would all be worth it in the end. She could feel the harsh sting of the tears behind her closed eyelids, felt them escape and slowly trail down her cheeks, warm against her skin.

"Sometimes I feel like, there's this chasm inside me. Even now, after getting away from it all, I'm standing at the very edge of it." She revealed, pressing a hand to her chest, where she could physically feel her heart ache. "There is no end to that chasm, and I'm about to loose my footing and fall." She gathered herself closer to her body, as if trying to attain some warmth that would dissipate the coldness that came from within. "But then, I feel someone take me by the hand, and pull me back a little and I look up."

Finally, she turned her head to look at him. A watery smile pulled at her lips, and despite the tears he could see the hope and utter trust in her eyes. His heart squeezed in his chest. Did he even deserve that from someone?

"And I see you standing there. You and your Uncle. I know we've known each other for just a few months, but I don't think I've ever trusted anyone before like I trust you Zuko. You and Master helped me see that you can trust someone."

She was baring herself to him, heart and soul, just like he had done all those nights ago when he had revealed the truth about his scar. "And yeah, we did fight and I didn't like you, I still sometimes want nothing more then to throw you off a building." A small laugh, prompting Zuko to smile at the sound. "But I trust you."

No one had ever trusted him before. Not his father, his sister, not even his crew. His Uncle did, but having another person, his soulmate, tell him that she trusted him was an another thing entirely.

He reached out, gently grasping her by the shoulders and pulling her in. Her head settled on his chest, right near his heart, his arms wound around her, one on her waist, the other around her shoulders, his hand buried in her hair as he held her close. He placed his head on top of her own and just sat there. For her part, Orora wrapped her arms loosely around his waist, feeling tired and drained after all that she had just revealed. Her eyes closed as she felt him drop a kiss to her head and she sighed.

Despite having not said a lot the entire night, with that one hug, Zuko said more then he ever could have.

The tears continued to fall until she finally fell asleep in his arms.

————————–

It was strange having someone else open up to him like Orora had. Growing up in the Palace, Zuko hadn't had many friends. Any at all. He would usually be around his mother, and she would play with him when he was younger, though as he got older he insisted that playing was for children and had instead moved on to practicing with weapons. His cousin had been the one to teach him about Dao Swords, but then he died. His mother disappeared, and it was only when Iroh returned that Zuko finally had a friendly face around the Palace. Azula had been lucky when it came to friends. She had Mei and Ty Lee.

Zuko had no one.

But now he had Orora.

Sitting on the bank of the significantly spacious pond, Zuko remembered the last time he had seen Orora practice like that. It was just after Azula had shot lightening at Iroh. Everything that had happened seemed like such a long time ago. The both of them had barely been able to look at one another then.

But in a span of a few short weeks they'd become friends. And they'd kissed.

He was brought out of his reverie when a bubble of water splashed just near his feet.

"Hey! Watch it!" He called out annoyed.

Orora stood in front of him, knee deep in water, her pants pulled up and her long shirt tucked in to keep from getting too wet. Not that it would matter, she could always waterbend herself dry.

She grinned. "Oh lighten up, and I mean figuratively." Zuko rolled his eyes as she laughed at her own joke. "You're trying too hard." He stated, prompting her to scowl at him.

"Well if you're just gonna make fun of my jokes, then I won't take my turn in our game." He raised an eyebrow at her. "I thought you were going to buy me moon peaches?" He asked to which she shrugged. "I can buy those for you any time, but I figured why not teach you a waterbending move which I'm sure you can use for other scenarios."

He blinked at her. She grinned and winked playfully.

Stepping out of the water, she quickly reached his side. "Come on, its an easy one, I promise."

So saying, she inhaled deeply, centering herself where she stood. Raising her arms in front of her, palms facing her body, she slowly brought them up to shoulder level before allowing her arms and hands to fly out, palms out.

The entire movement was fluid and graceful, quite the opposite of the firebending forms he had studied all his life.

"And when I do it with water." So saying she demonstrated the move again but this time using her waterbending abilities, sending a powerful wall of water splashing on the opposite end of the pond.

Zuko was impressed. She had improved a lot since he had met her. Her bending had gotten powerful through sheer practice and determination alone. Deciding to humor her, and yes she did catch him off-guard when she offered to teach him a waterbending move, Zuko dropped into stance next to her.

Orora smiled when he did, eager to share what she had learned.

As they both went through the motion, with Orora correcting him every now and then, the topic stayed on bending. Though now in an entirely different context.

"So I was thinking." He turned his head to look at her, though still going through the motions of the bending move. "You're able to bend using your feet as well. I mean I've seen you create arcs with just a swipe of your foot." She was careful to not say the word firebending in case someone else was listening in. "And Earthbenders can do the same, and I'm sure the Airbenders could as well."

Zuko nodded. "Yeah? I've seen the Avatar do that. What're you getting at?"

She shrugged. "Well I was just wandering, why isn't there any move where a waterbender could bend using their legs?"

Zuko frowned, contemplating on what she had just said. "Maybe no one has ever tried before?" He stated in a matter of fact voice, which had Orora humming, as she dropped her previous stance and waved her arms in an arc around her body, pulling a stream of water from the pond and creating a ring of water around her waist

"I guess." She said her voice low, dividing the ring into two and freezing one of them in a beautiful circular curvy ring. The water from the other ring, continued to weave through the now frozen structure, creating quite a pretty effect. It almost looked like she was wearing a stylized belt or something.

Having stopped going through the motions, Zuko turned his attention to her. "Why don't you try it?"

Her eyes snapped up to meet him, though her fingers kept moving in an elegant circular motion, keeping the water moving. "Me?" She asked, surprised.

Zuko shrugged. "Yeah whats wrong with you trying?" Orora pursed her lips, unfreezing the water and allowing the two rings to merge into one and sending it back into the pond.

"Well I'm not a Master, I don't know a lot of waterbending forms." She kicked her foot out sheepishly, catching a small pebble and watching as it rolled into the pond. "I doubt I'll be able to create a whole new form of bending."

Zuko frowned, not liking the way she was speaking about herself, and her abilities. Reaching out, he placed, what he hoped was a comforting hand, on her shoulder. "Look from what I have seen, you're a really good bender. You always practice when you can, and it doesn't even matter if you're doing it in the water, or just practicing going through the motions. You work hard, and your skills have improved since we had that spar in the forest."

She blinked up at him briefly, before a hopeful yet shy smile pulled at her lips. "You really think so?" She asked, and Zuko couldn't help but smile back at her. His hand moved from her shoulder, to cup the side of her face, thumb gently stroking her skin.

"Of course." He answered honestly.

She tilted her head, closing her eyes briefly, as if she were savoring his touch. "You know Zuko," She finally said after a brief stretch of silence. "For someone who acts grumpy all the time, you're a pretty sweet guy."

Instantly his expression changed to an annoyed look, prompting Orora to laugh under her breath. "You mention this to anyone, and I'll tell Uncle you broke his favorite teacup." He threatened.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "I replaced it!" She protested. Zuko smirked, shaking his head.

"It doesn't matter. That teacup had sentimental value, he doesn't know its been replaced, unless I tell him."

Orora scowled at him, flicking away the hand that still rested on her cheek. "Oh you would stoop that low wouldn't you?" She ground out, pouting.

If possible, his smirk only widened. "Anything to be Uncle's favorite."

He was met with a light punch in the gut on part of an annoyed soulmate.

————————–

Ever since last night, Zuko had been thinking some things over. So far, Orora new most of what had happened to him, but he had neglected to inform her of the months he had spent chasing he Avatar and all that had come with it.

From being constantly belittled by Zhao, to nearly dying in an explosion, almost getting captured by Azula, not to mention that time when the Avatar had saved his life.

He had to tell her. She had been truthful with him. She deserved to know the truth. The whole truth.

The walk back home was a long one, and since he was sure there was no one around to listen, he decided it was his turn to catch her off-guard like she had him the night before.

By telling her about everything since he had begun chasing the Avatar. She had to know all that he had done, every dirty tactic and trick he had played to try and capture the Avatar. From the time he had used the watertribe girl's necklace as bait, to dressing up as the Blue Spirit, to kidnapping the Avatar while he was in the Spirit World.

It was one failed attempt after another, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as he spoke. Surely Orora would want nothing to do with him. He was a failure. He couldn't even capture a twelve year old kid. Granted the kid was the Avatar, but he was still a kid.

Just as he had listened to her the night before, she listened to him. Once he had said all that he could, she inhaled deeply, her mind swirling with all that she could say to him. It was hard to choose where she should start.

So she started with holding his hand, pulling him into a partially hidden alley. She sighed. It almost felt like he had a rock inside him, weighing him down, as he waited for her to speak.

"I can't say that what you did was right, and I won't agree with it either." His heart dropped. "What you did was wrong Zuko, but....." She trailed off, licking her lips before sighing. "But I know more then a little about wanting to gain a father's approval." He blinked at her. That was more then he had hoped to hear. He had fully expected her to turn her back to him.

"You do what you can to please him. To try and get him to look at you with something other then contempt." She nodded in understanding, reaching up to run her fingers through the hair resting on his forehead before resting on his cheek. "You loose yourself in the process. You loose your own morals and that is the worst part." Never once leaving his gaze she continued.

"But you never did that. Where any other person would've taken a life or hurt someone out of desperation, never have I heard from your lips that you actually hurt someone." Zuko shook his head. "But that was all luck."

She shook her head. "You just told me that when Zhao was being taken away by the Spirits, you tried to save him, but he refused your help." He opened his mouth, but Orora quickly quietened him pressing her fingers to his lips. "You went after your Uncle after he was kidnapped by those Earthbenders. You never intentionally hurt anyone who came your way."

Finger gently caressing his mouth she continued. "And most of all, you saved my life. I'm proof that you haven't lost your morals Zuko. That you are a good person despite all that you have done. You didn't know who I was, you had no idea I was your soulmate, but you saved me." With every word she stepped closer until she was all but pressed up against him, her face just inches away. And while her gaze was open and earnest, he was looking at her through heavy lidded eyes. "I'm alive because of you." Her words were barely above a whisper as he dropped his forehead against her own. She sighed, adoring how warm he felt against her, her eyes slowly drifting shut, wanting to savor the moment. "I'm here because of you."

The last two words were muffled as she fused their mouths together in a kiss that had her grasping for the front of his shirt, while his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.

So far their kisses had been quick and chaste, both of them feeling too shy and uncertain about their feelings for one another.

But this one?

This one kiss they shared in the alley?

It was anything but chaste.

Zuko pressed his mouth insistently against hers, forcing Orora to lean back. There was a near desperation in that kiss, almost as if her words had awoken some sudden realization in him. And they had.

She had reminded him how close he had been to loosing her. Loosing her before he had even gotten to know who she was. And how important she would become to him.

His arms tightened around her waist as he gently pushed her so her back would rest against the wall of the building. Neither of them broke the kiss, content on memorizing the shape of each other's lips. Her hands slid up his chest to bury her fingers in his hair. The gentle scrape of her nails against his scalp opened an entirely new plethora of feelings in him.

Instinct drove him forward, taking her lower lip between his teeth and allowing them to sink into her soft skin. His hands, not wanting to stay idle, began to roam the small of her back, tracing the side of her waist as he did. Orora could barely contain the sound of surprise at the sudden onslaught of new sensations his touch awoke in her. Her eyelashes fluttered against the curve of her cheeks as she too returned the favor by nipping at his lip. His sound of approval reverberated against her mouth, prompting her to smile as he melded their lips together once more.

It was then that she seemed to realize the heaviness clouding her mind was not because of having Zuko pressed up against her, and his mouth on her, but because she couldn't breath.

Her hands dropped to his chest, pushing him back and unfusing her lips from his. The moment she did, the young waterbender inhaled sharply, trying to catch her breath. Zuko was no better. He was breathing heavily as well. Their forehead were still pressed together, cheeks flushed, and their eyes were open, ice blue staring into warm amber.

Once they were able to calm their breathing, as well as their racing hearts, Zuko pulled away from her. Though he didn't look away from her. She was smiling softly, and he couldn't help but mirror that smile as he led her out of the alley and into the street, heading for home.

But despite what they had just spoken about, once they stood outside the apartment building Zuko couldn't help but glance at it and scowl.

He hated it. Hated that he had to work as a tea server his whole life. Zuko glanced at Orora as she walked beside him. Despite having not thought about it in awhile, his mind drifted back to home. To the Fire Palace and all the comforts that came with it. In his mind, his father welcomed him home with open arms.

The bitterness that was now a part of his soul festered away as he continued to think of a life back home with Orora by his side.

A life he could never have.

————————–

Putting away the last of her waterbending scrolls in the small wicker basket, Orora smiled and stood. "Well I'm done packing up, would you like me to make you a cup of tea Master?" She asked, already moving towards the stove and kettle, knowing he would answer in the positive.

"Anytime is good for tea my young Pupil, remember that life lesson." Iroh responded cheerfully, prompting the young girl to laugh as she bended some water into the kettle.

This was so exciting. Not even a month ago, they had barely had any money to buy clothes and food. And now? Her Master was getting the chance to open up his own tea shop. To say he was ecstatic would be an understatement. They would be moving to the Upper Ring, getting new apartments, new clothes. That last part was something she looked forward to more then anything else. Maybe she could even get her own room?

Orora was truly happy for Iroh. He deserved his own tea shop, with how excellent his tea making skills were. She was glad he had chosen to teach her his secrets as well. In her eyes, any teaching Iroh had to impart on her, she would gladly accept. It was truly an honor.

And speaking of honor, ever since their outing, Zuko had been in a bit of a modd. She had figured he needed to come to terms with what they had spoken about, and decided to give him some space instead. She knew he appreciated her advice, but sometimes a person needed to sort through some thoughts by themselves.

"Have you thought of a name yet for the tea shop?" She asked, curious to know what he would come up with. Just then the door slid open and Zuko stepped in.

Iroh, wanting to include Zuko into the conversation spoke up. "I was thinking about names for my new tea shop. How about the Jasmine Dragon? It's dramatic, poetic, has a nice ring to it." Orora hummed in agreement, watching curiously as Zuko unfolded a piece of paper and showed it to his Uncle.

"The Avatar is here in Ba Sing Se and he's lost his bison." Orora blinked in surprise. "He lost Appa?" She asked, worry lacing her tone as she quickly walked forward to look at the paper, which was actually a flyer, as Iroh examined it.

The old man sighed. "We have a chance for a new life here." He said, letting Orora take the piece of paper and examining it further. "If you start stirring up trouble, we could lose all the good things that are happening for us."

Zuko who had been looking out the window with a determined expression, turned around. "Good things that are happening for you!" His words prompted Orora to look up at him, hurt evident in her eyes. A fact that he refused to acknowledge and ignored completely, even as he glanced in her direction. Though a sliver of guilt settled in his stomach, he continued. "Have you ever thought that I want more from life than a nice apartment and a job serving tea?"

Iroh sighed. "There is nothing wrong with a life of peace and prosperity." His tone was soft and understanding as he continued. "I suggest you think about what it is that you want from your life and why."

"I want my destiny." Zuko stated without even thinking about his answer. Iroh nodded. "What that means is up to you."

Knowing he would get nothing out of his Uncle other then words of wisdom and riddles, young Prince stalked away to their shared rooms and disappeared behind the door. His Uncle didn't understand. And while on some levels Orora did, she had accepted her fate and the fact that she could never go home. Him though? He still had a chance to earn his father's approval and go back.

Orora stared after him, more then a little hurt at being ignored by Zuko like that.

"The Tea Weevil!" Iroh suddenly exclaimed, before shaking his head. "No, that's stupid." Biting her lower lip, the young waterbender moved back to the stove where the water was now boiling.

"He did not mean to hurt you Orora." Iroh's words had her blushing at being so obvious about the situation. She glanced at him to see the old man smiling kindly at her. "My nephew tends to push people away when facing a problem or a challenge, thinking he can take care of it himself."

Continuing to pack, Iroh added. "Give him some time, he will realize that what he already has is enough." Giving her a smile of reassurance, Iroh hoped he had helped ease her worries about Zuko a little.

————————–

Pretending to be asleep that night was no easy feat. She was restless, her mind ringing with what Zuko had said, and with the knowledge that Aang, Katara and Sokka were close by. And they had lost Appa. During the short journey from the North Pole to the mainland, she'd grown fond of the hairy beast. He was adorable, and Orora adored adorable things.

It was a weakness.

She heard Zuko as he got up from his sleeping mat. She sat up the moment the door slid close. A determined expression on her features, she quickly pulled on her shoes and grabbed her water pouch. She'd barely taken a few steps down the road when she bumped into her Master.

"A little late to be taking an evening stroll my young pupil." Iroh stated in a jovial tone, though his eyes were serious. Orora glanced over his shoulder. "He's just up ahead Master, we should be able to follow him."

Iroh shook his head. "No, my dear. You will stay in the apartment. Where Zuko is about to go, it is a dangerous place, and I cannot be worrying about your safety as well as Zuko's." Her heart plummeted in her stomach and her shoulders drooped.

"But Master, I can take care of myself." She insisted, to which Iroh placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know you can. But Ba Sing Se has powerful men and women working on the wrong side." With a firm squeeze of her shoulder, her Master stated one final time.

"Stay." With that he moved to follow after Zuko.

Orora pursed her lips where she stood, feeling a little bubble of disappointment forming in her chest. Did Iroh not have faith in her abilities? Or did he think she would distract Zuko?

Her heart and mind were at war, as she turned on her feet and began to walk back towards their apartment.

But a slight tug on her finger had her looking down at the string that connected her with Zuko.

She frowned.

————————–

Iroh had heard rumors of the secret of Lake Laogai. The White Lotus had warned him of the many dangers that lurked in the catacombs of the city. This had been one of the reasons he never allowed Orora to wander around the city by herself. He had heard tales of people disappearing, never to be heard from again.

Though he was reluctant to admit, Zuko had more experience when it came to being on guard and watching his back. Orora did not. She had proven to herself to be a skilled fighter, but she lacked the experience when it came to people.

Iroh followed after Zuko. Luckily the entrance to the under water base of operations had been left open. So it was easy to jump down and begin the task of looking for Zuko. The tunnels were dark and seemed almost haunted in the dim green light. The tiniest sound seemed so loud in one's ear. He'd only wandered through a few tunnels, when Iroh became aware of a presence behind him.

As a skilled firebender, he could actually feel the warmth of a body and how close it was. And these several presences were getting closer. He hid himself in a shadowed alcove, watching as several Dai Li agents rushed by. They had barely passed when he felt another heat form closing in.

Much to his surprise, it was a rather familiar one. As soon as they were within range, his hand darted out to catch them by the elbow, and pulled them into his hiding spot.

If he allowed himself to, Orora was sure her Master would be breathing steam at that moment, with how furious he looked.

"I told you to stay behind Orora." He said, his voice carried the weight of his disappointment. Orora lowered her head. "I know." Shame colored her tone. "I know you did Master, but I couldn't just sit back and do nothing."

Grumbling under his breath, Iroh ran a tired hand over his face. Finally he looked at her with a serious expression. "Orora. As your Master, I hereby forbid you from ever disobeying my orders again." He knew it wasn't right, knew that he was asking her to take an oath that she would find very hard to break, but he had to.

To protect her.

"Swear to me, that the next time I give you an order, no matter what the outcome may be, you will obey me."

Orora bit her lower lip, nodding. "I swear, Master." She hated the look he was giving her, and never wanted to see it again. He was her teacher, he knew best. She trusted him to keep her safe and never lead her down the wrong path.

Nodding in a satisfactory manner, Iroh peaked out from their hiding place. "Now follow me, and keep close."

————————–

While Iroh stayed on the lookout for any potential threats, Orora slowly began to lead the way following her thread. By some miracle, they didn't run into any trouble as they ventured deeper and deeper underneath the Lake. It didn't take long, for them to reach a door. Her finger gave a gentle tug and she knew Zuko was on the other side.

Iroh didn't waste time in reaching out and opening the door. He was already angry at Orora for disobeying him, and it was only growing at the thought of his nephew doing something stupid and throwing away his life.

The moment they entered, Orora closed the door behind her. The first thing she noticed was the person in the blue mask. Zuko, holding his Dao swords at the ready. And behind him?

Appa.

In chains.

"Appa!" She called out, rushing forward, darting past Zuko and approaching the Bison. The big creature let out a warning growl, though she wasn't deterred. "Its me. Orora." She held her hand out for him to sniff, to remember her scent. "Remember me?" She cooed, as the Bison leaned forward to press his nose against her palm. She gently ran her hand along his nose smiling. "Its alright boy. I'll get you out."

"And then what!?"

The sudden shout had her turning on her heel, eyes widening. She had never heard Iroh yell. Never seen him so angry as he did right then. Not even a few moments ago when he had caught her.

"You never think these things through!" He pointed a finger at Zuko, who now stood with his back to his Uncle, maskless, his eyes focused on the ground as emotions ravaged through his very sense of being. "This is exactly what happened when you captured the Avatar at the North Pole! You had him, and then you had nowhere to go!"

"I would have figured something out!" Zuko argued, though there was uncertainty in his voice.

"No! If his friends hadn't found you, you would have frozen to death!" Iroh stated, prompting a chill to run down her spine. Zuko had spoken to her about it, but how much had he downplayed on the amount of times he had nearly died?

"I know my own destiny, Uncle!" Again, he tried to argue, but Iroh was having none of it.

"Is it your own destiny, or is it a destiny someone else has tried to force on you?" He demanded. Behind her Appa fidgeted, not liking the loud voices. She made a reassuring sound, gently running her fingers through his soft fur.

"Stop it, Uncle! I have to do this!" Forced determination, that was all there was in Zuko's voice as his heart raged with his mind.

Capture the Avatar, restore his honor, restore his father's love, go back home, restore his title as Prince. That was all that mattered.

"I'm begging you, Prince Zuko!" Iroh demanded, and pleaded at the same time. "It's time for you to look inward and begin asking yourself the big questions. Who are you, and what do you want?"

That seemed to be the last straw.

Zuko let out a pained cry, throwing down his weapon and the mask, dropping to his knees as he did. Orora stood where she was for a few moments, before glancing at Iroh. He gave her a small nod.

Giving Appa a reassuring pat on the nose, she slowly approached the conflicted Prince. Her soft steps echoed in the otherwise silent chamber. She dropped to her knees in front of him, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not gonna say I understand, because our situations are vastly different." She started, knowing he was listening to her. "But I do know a little something about living a life, following a destiny that someone else decided for me." Reaching out, she cupped his face to make him look up, to meet her gaze.

Lost amber eyes, found a determined blue gaze.

"But I broke free, and I have never regretted that. I found a Master. I found you. I found friends. But most of all? I found myself."

Leaning forward she pressed a gentle, lingering kiss against the scar on his cheek.

"Find yourself, Zuko. Find your reason to fight." She whispered softly.

So saying, she stood. With one last gentle smile at him, she turned back to Appa, uncorking her water bag and pulling out twin streams of water.

"Alright Appa. We're gonna have to work together if we're gonna get you out of here." So saying, she threw her arm out, wrapping one of the chains that held Appa's leg, in a stream of water and freezing it in place.

"Now pull." The Bison gave a loud grunt as he pulled at the now brittle chain. It tokk a few tries, but he was able to free himself easily, prompting Orora to grin widely. Gathering up the water from the now brokem pieces of ice, she moved to the next chain when she suddenly felt a presence beside her.

It was Zuko.

He walked past her, swords in either hand, nearing Appa with every step. The Bison growled again, prompting Orora to reach out. "Its alright Appa. He's here to help."

She hoped.

Zuko stopped in front of the chains that held Appa prisoner. His swords began to steam as he allowed his firebending abilities to heat the metal. Raising them in the air, he brought down both swords in one powerful stroke with a mighty cry. The heated blade cut through the metal chain like butter.

Orora grinned.

Between the both of them, they were able to free Appa in a matter of minutes. The Bison let out a happy grunt, stretching his legs, before nudging Orora with his nose, nuzzling against her. The young girl giggled, throwing her arms around Appa's cheek and returning his embrace. "Go find Aang. I'm sure he's worried about you." She said, stepping back a little so she could meet Appa's intelligent gaze.

Glancing behind her, she saw Zuko standing next to Iroh. She reached out, quickly grabbing his hand and yanking him forward. "He wants to say thank you." She said, placing Zuko's hand on Appa's fur.

Zuko stood there, frozen, his eyes meeting Appa's brown gaze. Human and animal stood still, before Appa closed his eyes, and somehow, Zuko knew the creature was thanking him.

With a mighty thump of his tail, the Bison took off. Through sheer strength he was able to break through the thin metal railing above him and take to the skies.

"You did good." Zuko felt a soft hand slipping in his, prompting him to turn around and find a smiling Orora standing by his side. His Uncle stood not even a few paces away. Both of them looked proud.

The first time Zuko ever felt he did something right was when he saved Orora's life.

But this?

Helping an innocent animal go free, that came a close second.

————————–

The walk back from Lake Laogai was a long one. This gave Zuko some time to think about what had just happened. Did this mean he was no longer hunting the Avatar? That he was going to make a life for himself in Ba Sing Se? As more and more questions rose in his mind, he began to feel them crowd around in his head, causing it to become physically heavy.

He could barely navigate his way through the streets of Ba Sing Se as his head began to throb all over.

By the time they reached their apartment, Orora could barely feel her feet. Though she barely noticed the ache as she focused on Zuko. In the time it had taken them to get back home, his face had gotten paler and paler. She'd caught his eye and silently asked if he was alright. He'd nodded, though even his movements were starting to get sluggish.

"You did the right thing." Iroh said, opening the door to their apartment, the pride in his voice evident as both teenagers walked in. "Letting the Avatar's bison go free."

Orora, who had entered first, turned to look at Zuko. He looked worse then before. "Zuko?" She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He lifted a hand, pressing his palm against the side of his head as he met her gaze. "Orora?" His words slurred. "I don't feel right." His vision of her grew hazy and blurry before it darkened completely.

She was barely able to catch him when he passed out. "Zuko!" She didn't know who was louder, her or Iroh, who rushed forward to help Orora lay him down on the floor. She grabbed him by the shoulders, gently shaking him.

"Zuko! Zuko wake up!"

No response.

"Zuko!"

————————–

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queen-haq · 2 months

Text

Fic: Never You - (Penelope/Colin) Part 1

Rating: R

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 scene released yesterday.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn't giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Part 1

Penelope stared out at the pond, her last conversation with Colin still running through her mind. I miss you. Few months ago his words would have sparked incredible joy in her but hearing his smug confession last night had elicited nothing but rage. Even now an explosive anger threatened to burn her from the inside out - but she reminded herself to stay composed. Losing her calm over Colin Bridgerton was simply not worth it, not when she had far more important things to worry about.

“Penelope. How are you?”

Hearing Lady Violet’s voice from behind, she turned around to greet the older woman. Except she wasn’t alone. Of course not. Behind her stood most of her family, Colin and Eloise on one side, Gregory and Hyacinth on the other. Penelope quickly shifted her gaze back to Lady Violet. “I’m quite well. How are you?”

“You haven’t paid us a visit in a long time.”

Penelope sensed the scorn vibrating off of Eloise in waves, but she ignored her former friend. Even though her soul ached at the loss of their friendship, a part of her had already grown resigned to their new reality. “I’m afraid country life has kept me busy all these months.”

“Well, you’re back now. I hope to see you at the house more often.”

There was no mention of the falling out with Eloise, nor did Penelope expect there to be. Especially with Eloise pretending she no longer existed. Her eyes roamed over to her friend, only to be ignored. Inevitably her gaze slid over to Colin, and she suddenly found herself the recipient of his intent focus. Somber blue eyes penetrating her through to her very core, making her rattled and anxious and breaking down the very calm façade she worked so hard to build.

Throughout their entire friendship he’d always been sweet and funny, filling her dull world with hope and color, but the night of her mother’s ball she’d seen the kind of cruelty he was capable of. It was a side of him that she never wished to see again. And feeling his piercing gaze right into her soul, in a way he’d never looked at her before, reminded her of how much of a stranger he really was. “Forgive me, Lady Violet, but I must take my leave. Mama shall be waiting for me.”

She quickly walked past the group, breathing a sigh of relief at no longer being under Colin’s scrutiny. Her relief, however, lasted only a few seconds. Because almost immediately Colin was striding alongside her.

“Pen, we need to speak.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Then I’ll do the talking.”

“And I’m not interested in listening.”

“Too bad. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

She cursed his long legs, because while she struggled to keep up the fast pace he seemed to glide along the path without much effort. Short of running away from him, which would surely cause a scandal amongst the crowd promenading, she had no choice but to keep walking.

“I’m sorry. Truly.” His voice was soft, velvety like butter, like he’d practiced the words many, many times in preparation for the performance of a lifetime. “My words that night-”

“Do you know that I read your letters over the summer? Despite my anger, I still read them.”

An unexpected rawness laced his voice. “Why?”

“Because I needed to know. Would I recognize that insincerity in your words now that I knew the truth about your disdain towards me. And do you know what I discovered?”

She finally turned to look at him, and just for a moment the world stopped. Like it always did. His eyes were bluer than the sea itself, a symphony of agony and need, beckoning her towards him. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe, her heart caught in a whirlwind of chaos.

“Tell me.”

It wasn’t a request, nor a plea. It was a demand. As if he was entitled to her thoughts, her heart. Her very soul. Well, damn him. Damn him for playing her for a fool. And damn herself for ever loving him. “You are an extraordinarily talented writer, Mr. Bridgerton. So good in fact that I woulld never have guessed your true thoughts if I didn’t hear you utter them myself.”

“That’s not fair. It was one night, Pen! One night! When I was drunk out of my mind and said something foolish. Are you really willing to give up on me after years of friendship because of something so small?”

“Yes.” Her response was quick and resolute, surprising even herself.

Stunned, Colin stared back at her. “Yes?” The tremor in his voice was unmistakable. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?”

The change in him was sudden and abrupt, taking her by surprise when he moved swiftly to block her path.

The blues of his eyes were so dark they bordered on brown, a storm brewing in them. Staring back at her was a man she didn’t recognize, different from the boy she grew up with,and the man who humiliated her without a thought. This was a stranger in front of her, anger etched on his face, jaw clenched with tension.

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

She didn’t think he could hurt her more, but he managed to do it nonetheless. “I never expected you to court me, Colin. You don’t love me. I’m quite aware of that. But you could have told them there was nothing between us. You could’ve even said I meant nothing to you. Instead you mocked me, derided me so you could look good in front of your peers, and that makes you someone I never want to associate with.”

“I made a mistake, Pen.”

“Miss Featherington,” she bit out through gritted teeth. “That is who I am to you from now on. Nothing more.”

“So that’s it? I make a mistake and you erase me from your life just like that?” He snapped his finger angrily. “Are you so fucking perfect that you’ve never wronged anyone?

They’d been standing still for far too long, their conversation growing more potent every second. All of a sudden she was acutely aware of glances in her direction, people’s eyes sliding over her and Colin, and she realized how dangerous this was. Risking her carefully crafted plans for a few heated moments with him was idiotic. “People are staring at us, Colin.”

“I don’t care.”

“Obviously.” She offered a small smile at the couple who walked past her, trying to appear amiable. “You may not be concerned about my reputation but I am. And I would appreciate it if you stayed out of my way.”

“I’m not willing to give up on our friendship like you.”

His snarky words drew her gaze back to him. “Walk away, Mr. Bridgerton. Let me be.”

“And if I don’t?”

The hint of menace sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. “You would not be the gentleman you claim to be.”

“Perhaps I’m not. Perhaps everything you’ve accused me of is true.” He took a step closer, eyes shining brightly. “Maybe I am cunning and cruel. What then?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “What is it that you want from me?”

“Forgiveness.”

“Fine. You’re forgiven.”

“You’re lying.”

“And you’re being rude.”

Eyes locked, they regarded each other intently. She didn’t understand what he was doing, why he was behaving this way. Why his stare seemed to be all consuming, studying her, trailing down to her mouth when she licked her bottom lip before drifting back up again. He’d never behaved this way before, A complete stranger in every way. “If you ever valued me as a friend, you would do as I ask.”

“I could say the same. If you valued me, you wouldn’t cast me aside.”

“You can not force me to continue this.”

“Would that be such a hardship? To move past one mistake and leave it behind us?” Desperation brimmed from him, he swallowed audibly. “I may not wish to court you but you are important to me. You’re my dearest friend. I can not envision a life without you.”

She exhaled a long, drawn-out breath. “You must.”

His lips twisted into a cruel plea. “Why?”

“Because I am to be married, Colin!” Instantly she regretted her words, hating herself for letting him provoke her. Yes, it was the truth, a plan that had taken months to carefully develop and plot – and now she’d ruined it by announcing it too early, and to him of all people!

“What?” He faltered back, stunned by her words. “You’re engaged? To whom? Why-”

“All you need to know is that my future husband and I have already discussed the matter and he wishes for me to have nothing to do with you. So goodbye, Mr. Bridgerton, because this the last time you and I will speak alone.” She stormed away, before he could stop her.

To be continued...

A/N - Um, thoughts? Feedback is always appreciated. I'm liking the idea of Colin and Penelope going head to head over the destruction of their friendship :)

#polin #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #bridgerton #my fics

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gil-estel · 2 years

Text

a massive structure

gtn, 69

Rearing up before them was a palace, a fortress, of white and shining stone. It spread out on the surface of the water like an island. You couldn’t see over it and you could hardly see around it.

ntn, 440

The tower was so big—as the megatruck approached she began to realise how big, as big and as broad and as tall as any crane or building in the city—stretching higher than their Building at home, even. There was a clear mark where the water reached up it, where the stone was wet black rather than the dry-stone grey above. From inside the megatruck, she could not see how high up it went

fairy tale beauty

gtn, 68

Gideon got the impression of a hundred spires rising, choked with green stuff from blue-and-turquoise waters

gtn, 69

It lapped back in terraces of what must have once been fabulous gardens. It rose up in gracious towers that hurt the eye with their slenderness and precision. It was a monument to wealth and beauty.

htn, 110

“The base of Canaan House dates back to before the Resurrection. We first built upward, to get away from the sea; then we built outward, to strive toward beauty

ntn, 439

Nona thought it looked like something out of a picture book

the birth of canaan house

gtn, 148

"It’s pre-Resurrection—or made to look pre-Resurrection, which is just as curious."

ntn, 219

On the new plank of land, all cut up from the water and the damage, there was a broken concrete building guarded by enormous shards of cracked bone.

htn, 110

“The base of Canaan House dates back to before the Resurrection. We first built upward, to get away from the sea; then we built outward, to strive toward beauty

gtn, 325

“How I hate the water,” he said, as though this conversation was one they’d had before and he was simply continuing it. “I’m not sorry that this has dried up. Ponds … rivers … waterfalls … I loathe them all. I wish they had not filled the pool downstairs. It’s a terrible portent, I said.”

htn, 111

The laboratories. The original body of the building—a place steeped in the death of ages—the quietude of the last sacrifice … that is where Lyctorhood was begun, and that is where Lyctorhood was finished.

gtn, 95

Once she paused on a blasted terrace outside, gazing at the rusting, hulking pillars that stuck up in a ring around the tower. The sea on one side was broken up with flat concrete landings like stepping-stones, set wet and geometric in the water, mummified in seaweed: the sea had covered up more structures long, long ago, and they looked like square heads with long, sticky hair, peering up suspiciously through the waves.

ntn, 219

He was scared of that—he was always scared of the water—and he made the waters go away for a while, and he raised up some parts of the earth that had been covered by sea. She watched them explode upward, shedding tonnes of water back into the soup

where are the people?

ntn, 410

“Where did you put the people? Where did they go?”

ntn, 435

"I want to understand the mathematics, now that I have seen them for myself. I want to know how many of the Resurrection are left, and how many you began with, and what the discrepancies are. I want to know where you put them. They didn’t go into the River. I want to know why she was angry … and why you were terrified.”

ntn, 440

“He left them too long—you left them too long, my salt thing.”

htn, 110

For the Resurrection did not resurrect every broken thing, you understand, and nor did it create anything new.

htn, 36

But at that time … I set many aside, for safety … and I’ve often felt bad about just keeping them as insurance. They’ve been asleep all this myriad, Harrow, and it’s frankly a relief to my mind to wake them up. I’ll begin the process of bringing them to the surface before they’re shipped off to the Ninth.”

htn, 98

“Being separated from your soul won’t kill you,” he said. “Not immediately. But—”

gtn, 68

“It’s gorgeous.”

“It’s a grave,” said Harrowhark.

gtn, 152

“Down there resides the sum of all necromantic transgression,” she said, in the singsong way of a child repeating a poem. “The unperceivable howl of ten thousand million unfed ghosts who will hear each echoed footstep as defilement. They would not even be satisfied if they tore you apart.”

gtn, 280

“Bodies were brought into here—a long time ago. A lot of bone matter. The First feels like a graveyard all over, but this is worse. I’m not faking.”

gtn, 303

"These experiments all demand a continuous flow of thanergy. They’ve hidden that source somewhere in the facility, and that’s the true prize.”

gtn, 303

"Including the facility, we’ve got access to maybe thirty percent of this tower."

gtn, 376

“Because Teacher was afraid of Canaan House and the facility most of all,” said Harrow. “I need to go back and check, but I suspect he was incapable of going down that ladder at all. He was a construct himself. But what was Teacher the mould for?

htn, 395

At the bottom of the stairs, glass doors showed the space where the pool had once been—filled now with bloody water, dark, bobbing shapes within. River water.

flow of time, flow of water

htn, 310

“You cannot build in the River! It is a dimension of perpetual flux—defined space is nonsense here—you might as well try to wall off time with bricks and mortar.”

htn, 328

“Time means very little … mastery does. This temple stood for ten thousand years untouched by all but time’s clumsiest pawing … but then its master was the Master, for whom even the River will part. Time is nothing to the King Everlasting.”

htn, 328

Oh, but it is a tragedy, to be put in a box and laid to wait for the rest of time. It happened to me, but I was only a man, or perhaps fifty men … Reverend Daughter, your whole House treads upon a knife’s edge, as keepers of such a zoo.

htn, 397

Something has gone terribly wrong in the River, Harrow, and I wish you’d find out what.”

htn, 461

“It’s the River. It moves. You’d have to pick the revenant’s path and travel along a thanergetic link, and that’s just madness again: sitting inside— I don’t know— a teapot, clinging on without sense or understanding, going slowly insane.

the hole in the tower

gtn, 426

Cytherea crooked her fingers toward the massive hole torn in the side of the tower. There was a cry from within, followed by an awful cracking, tearing, breaking sound.

ntn, 393

“Their justice is not my justice. Their water is not my water. I came to help. I am made a mockery. The danger is upon you, and you do not even know … they are coming out of their tower, salt thing. There is a hole at the bottom of their tower."

i have no idea what any of this means but I AM rotating it in my brain

(now updated post-harrow reread!)

#nona the ninth #gideon the ninth #the locked tomb #tlt spoilers #ntn spoilers

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writersmacchiato · 4 months

Text

family ties | Gerard Pitts

warning but not really; mentions/alludes to bad home life for reader :(((( but it’s honestly nothing explicitly stated <3 not proof read!!

sidenote: for everyone in the winter season (happy first day of winter btw!!!), I so recommend finding a sunny spot outside and sitting out there with a blanket and a hot drink and soak in the sun.

. . .

Gerard Pitts happens to stumble upon you while you’re sitting on the back steps of the school. A warm blanket draped over you shoulders and protecting you from the chill. The sunlight washes over you in a glow and his heart skips a beat at the beauty you are.

A steaming cup of something rests in your hands, your eyes transfixed on nothing in particular but the cloudless blue sky above you.

Your face is blank, giving nothing away.

Well, to anyone that wasn’t him but he knows you, doesn’t he?

He notices the slump of your shoulders, marring your usual prefect posture. The slight down curve of your lips, the slightest of tension between your brows.

You’re upset and stewing in it.

“Good morning.” He approaches loudly, steps crunching on gravel to announce his presence first.

“Good morning, Pitts.” To your credit, your small smile seems genuine enough so he takes a seat beside you. Arms almost touching, but he doesn’t close the distance. Not yet.

“Lovely morning.” He says, cupping his hands to blow hot air into them. It is very chilly, but the frost covering the ground and trees was beautiful. He could see why you came here often.

You hum in agreement, otherwise motionless from the small sips from your cup.

“How is the family?” He decides to stop beating around the bush.

It’s not a secret, at least to him, that you struggle with the time spent with your family. And that you had a dinner with them yesterday.

You make a noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Oh, just the usual dinner and show.”

“And, your sister?”

At the mention of her, you slump against his side, head leaning on his shoulder. Letting out a long groan that makes him laugh.

“The usual, then?” He supplies when you take to silence once more.

He knows that you sit with your thoughts and feelings too much, let them fester within unspoken until it becomes too much. He’s also learning how to slowly creep out the feelings, how to spin the words out. Knows that you trust him in a way you haven’t had before.

“The fucking usual.” You pause, before the words spill out in a sudden rush. “She’s just so… mean! She’s mean all the time! And if I ever try to say anything, she gets mad at me. It’s exhausting being around her because I never know if she will strike out or be nice.”

Pitts moves his arm to wrap around you, in a one sided hug. He’s met your sister and knows how cruel she can be, both intentionally and unintentionally.

“And, then winter break is coming up and I don’t want to be home at all. I hate it there. My parents are already so… them. And my sister is in an extra horrible mood. It will be torture.”

“You know, you’re always welcome to come home with me.” To me.

You allow yourself to indulge the fantasy. Having been to his family’s estate many times before. His mother is very welcoming and kind, his father is somewhat aloof and awkward but in a charming way.

The kitchen would smell like freshly baked cookies, the scent wafting through the house. You could curl up by the fireplace, reading anything you desired from their extensive library.

Traipsing through the woods around the estate, freshly fallen snow making it a winter wonderland. Building snowpeople and and trying to sneak a ball of snow down his coat. Hoping for the coldest temperatures so the pond will freeze frostily for ice-skating, hands numb from cold except where his hands hold yours.

Looking through his wardrobe, selecting his coziest sweaters to wear to bed. Running through the halls in wool socks and seeing who can slide the furthest.

Warm dinners with his family, gathered together. Watching the way the candlelight flickers over his face, sneaking glances and smiling when you catch him doing the same.

Maybe he would kiss you under the mistletoe. Because his family is the type to hang up mistletoe and he would pretend to be oblivious to the fact that he hung up the very plant you now stand under together and you would let him.

“I would like that very much, Gerard Pitts.”

#gerard pitts x reader #dead poets society #dps #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society imagine #dps x reader #dps imagine #gerard pitts #pitts x reader #def wrote this abt my sister bc she’s been getting on my nerve lately with her meaness!!!#halfway through writing this my mom came outside and sat with me and I was like oh hey 🙂🙂#not writing ff rn or anything weird #gerard is my comfort character!!!!!!!!#he’s who I immediately thought of when I got this idea!!!

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toska-writes · 1 year

Text

“You lost this”

Summary: Trying to kick the habit of losing your lightsaber it somehow always ends up at the hip of the commander of the corrie guard. I mean that’s better then getting in trouble

Paring: Commander Fox x GN Padawan Reader (PLATONIC)

Warning: none!

Word count: 1386

Notes: once again this man deserves some good fluffy moments, also this one kinda mimics the other Fox fox I have I just realized but whatever. If you have any suggestions feel free to shoot them my way!

Kriff how could this happen again.

Your master was sure going to kill you this time. Ponds walked beside you now as you ran a hand through your hair.

"I've heard plenty of story's of Master Kenobi losing his lightsaber, how bad could it be, you'll find it." He tried to give some comfort.

"1," You held a finger up " I would love to hear that story, 2 you don't know how important it is. Master Windu has told me many times that I shouldn’t loose it because your lightsaber is your life."

Ponds stared at you for a moment before shrugging his shoulder. "Sorry mate, but if you lost it here one of the corries might have picked it up."

It was your turn to stare now. "Really think they'll have it?"

"It's better then turning up empty handed to the general."

Ponds gave you a small nod before turning to part down his own hall of the huge temple. "Ill let Master Windu know you'll be studying with Ahsoka then sir."

You opened your mouth to question him for a second but Ponds flashed you a cocky smile before turning away from you.

You scoffed to yourself for a moment being ever so grateful for the commander of the 91st.

Corries, corries right you could easily go ask the Coruscant Guard to see if they had seen it. But why was it so hard.

Would any of them tell your master, or worst. They already have.

A sweat stared to form a little at the top of your brow. Where could you have left it? The hanger, the temple. It could be anywhere on Coruscant by now.

Great great great. If you didn't find it first it would be just your luck your master would find it before you.

You stood now on the steps of the Jedi temple. You had to go quick if you were to be back before anyone noticed your gone. Ponds excuses could only save you for so long.

In the back of your mind you felt a slight humming sound, the force around you flourished as you acted on this feeling.

You took a few steps with your eyes still closed, the force was now guiding you to the senate building? Mmm your best guess is Commander Fox might have it.

As you walked you recounted the very few encounters that you had with the clone commander. All were pleasant and nothing to make you sweat, but you still did either way.

The building laid out in front of you, the feeling was growing strong now. You could hear the hum of your kyber crystal as if it was in your own hand.

Taking a few steps you scanned the area quickly, trying to keep a low profile in a place you didn’t know all that well.

Fox was an allusive man when he wanted to be but the familiar feeling you craved coming from your saber was much stronger.

You spotted him from a distance away, he was chatting with another brother in red you weren’t sure you knew who though. From here there was no sign of your saber.

You cleared your throat as you made your way over. “Hey commander Fox?”

His eyes and body snapped to attend as did the other person with him. Fox’s shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly when he saw it was just you but all the same he asked “Is there a problem commander?”

“Oh no I was just looking for something” You casually put your hands behind your back, the hum now grew to a quite background noise as it normally did and you instantly felt a lot better.

Fox head turned forward questioning slightly until his hand flew to his hip, and sure enough there it was clipped to his belt. “I’m assuming it’s this then? You came just in time sir I was just about to contact Master Windu.”

He could definitely see the worry on your face at the last comment as he handed back the weapon you cherished so deeply.

You gave fox a thankful nod then added “You know it wouldn’t be terrible to say if this happens again not to tell my master right away.”

The man standing next to him looked a little puzzled at this small exchange of words but you decided to ignore it.

“I’ll see what I can do about that sir.” He nodded

“Thank you Fox. I owe you.” You turned and quickly made your way back to the temple before Windu decided he really wanted to know where you are.

Fox stood for a moment accompanied by Hound who seemed just as confused as he.

“So that must be the Y/N you told me about.” Hound nodded at Fox. “They definitely live up to what you said.”

Fox gave a slight nod in return, Hound was definitely right about that.

The second time you lost your lightsaber you were already making your way after departing with ponds, to the senate building once again.

Fox stood more by the entrance now, as soon as he caught sight he swiftly made his way over.

In one simple moment he unclipped the saber from its resting place on his belt and held his hand out.

“You keep this up and you’ll tie with General Kenobi for the most amount of times lost.” He joked a little.

You shot an eye brow up as the cool metal made its way into your own hands. “Wow does everyone know that story?” You asked with a smile on your own. “You’ll have to fill me in next time I see you.”

“Hopefully not under this circumstance sir.”

With another small smile you made your way from the senate building. Fox would have to get use to that. But he did enjoy the visits.

The third time it was already like a reflex. Fox saw you come in and scan the building for a moment trying to recognize the armor of the Corrie Guard commander.

When you spotted him this time he already had the weapon in his hand- the weight felt uneven and deadly in his hands.

Fox held it out to you for a moment as you finished your approach grabbing the weapon and stop right in front of him. “Missing something Commander?”

You laughed for a moment, eyes sparkling.

You could just walk out, Fox found himself thinking about one time. You could make a snide comment or two and aggressively grab your lightsaber out of his hands. He wouldn’t be surprised many did. But as always you stoped have a kind smile and a small bow of gratitude then ask him how his rounds were or if he needed anything.

This time you asked if he was almost done with this shift. “No, I have a few more since I took over for Thire, he wasn’t really feeling himself.” Fox shut his mouth quickly after his last words, venomous words floated around his head saying he shouldn’t have shared and you didn’t really care.

But the compassionate look told him all he needed to know. “Well tell Thire I Hope he’s feeling better in no time.” You stated. “And since your going to be on a little while I was thinking about heading to a near by caf machine.”

Fox stuck his hand out waving you off. “No need for the trouble commander I’m fine really.”

The worry in his voice hurt you for a moment. “Nonsense besides I was planning on getting one for myself. Really it would be no hassle.”

Knowing your stubbornness he gave up the fight quickly, nodding his head in a response.

He watched you exit for a second, the bright glittering saber now hung where it rightfully belonged.

In a way Fox hoped that you would loose it again, not to get yourself in trouble but it’s refreshing to have someone to listen to what you had to say. Someone in the same boat as him but not in the same seat so to say.

But one things for sure, he would never get use to the weight that thing carried when it was on his waist. He’s seen them work before and those weren’t as pleasant as he’d like to remember.

—————————————————————

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza

#star wars clone wars #clone wars #the clone boys #star wars #the clone wars #my writing #toska-writes #commander fox x reader #commander fox #corrie guard #coruscant guard #reader insert

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puppy-coded · 2 years

Note

okay athena i have a proposition for you... katniss and y/n! just being cute together y/n just... is the complete opposite of katniss and everyone is like "wha??"

that would be so adorable i feel like

𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓱 𝓦𝓮'𝓻𝓮 𝓒𝓾𝓽𝓮! {𝓚.𝓔.}

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: none

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Katniss Everdeen x reader

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼: 900 words

“I forgot that I hate the woods,” You complained.

“Pipe down will you? You’re gonna scare of the wildlife!” Katniss whisper-yelled at you. Yeah... this hunting trip was not going well.

“You’re wildlife,” You retorted, immediately feeling bad.

“Okay, that’s just mean.” Katniss replied, finally turning around.

“Sorry, I’m just grumpy Kass.” You said quietly. You started picking at the loose thread of the knapsack, the old hunting bag could give way at literally any moment. Especially if you kept picking at it.

“Where did ‘Kass’ come from?” She asked, motioning for you to continue on.

“The first and last two letters of your name?” You replied, confused by the question.

“I like it,” She nodded. “It’s cute.”

“Glad you do, can we go home now?” You asked.

“You can but I seriously need to grab stuff. How about we fish?” She asked.

“Or... you can fish and I can be the loving girlfriend I am and be moral support,” You suggested.

“I... that’s the most I’m gonna get from you, isn’t it?” She asked, exasperation clear in her voice.

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright come on then. I know just the place,” She smiled.

. . .

She was fishing for a few hours and caught three fish. Katniss was happy with what she was able to get because it was enough for everyone in her family to have their own.

You, however, have been picking flowers for the past couple of hours and made a flower crown out of various wild flowers. It was colorful and fit your personality, in Katniss’ opinion, quite perfectly. Plus, flower crowns are fun to make and it kept you busy.

“You ready to go?” Katniss asked, lightly tapping you with her foot.

You giggles at her and stayed laid down, putting the flower crown on your head. “I am (Y/N), Queen of this pond. You, my royal knight, I shall love forever.” You told her dramatically.

“Come on you dork, we have to get back before the sun goes down,” She chuckled.

“Katniss, can you teach me how to... hunt sometime?” You asked, getting up.

“Remember the last time that happened? You broke down crying, went up to the deer, and apologized for even thinking about killing it for food.” She reminded you, holding in a laugh.

“Yeah but I feel bad for just... not contributing anything.” You admitted, putting your hands in your pockets.

“You contributed being cute. Now let’s go.” She said, putting an arm around you and walking off, guiding you through the woods.

. . .

You two had gotten to Katniss’ house in the Victor’s village, ate, and hung out on the couch while Prim did the dishes. Your head laid in her lap while she showed the most affection she ever has to any other human.

“I kinda want to start a fairy garden.” You said randomly, picking at the rip in Katniss’ pants.

“I mean... do what you want. Since we have a large space here at the Victor’s Village you can build the biggest or smallest fairy garden you want.” Katniss suggested, lightly drawing little circles on your cheek.

“Thanks Katniss. It will be pretty small but it’s be fun! And, also, fairies. I love fairies.” You reasoned, shooting up to smile brightly at her.

“I was just eavesdropping and I would like to know, and I love you (Y/N) but, how in the heck are you two dating?” Prim asked, cleaning a plate.

“She’s cute,” Katniss responded.

“She’s funny,” You replied.

“Interesting. I would have thought that your personalities would have clashed by now.” Prim shrugged.

“What do you mean?” Katniss asked, turning around in her seat.

“(Y/N) believes in things that aren’t real and isn’t a practical person.” Prim said, gesturing to (Y/N), trying to prove her point to Katniss.

You looked between the sister, confused, before it dawned on you. “Hey!” You exclaimed. “I can be practical.”

“And you, Katniss, have not done anything fun or ‘unnecessary’ since you were twelve.” Prim said, once again gesturing to Katniss, trying to prove a point.

“And?” Katniss asked, looking down at her outfit. Yeah... Prim was right.

“It’s just weird is all. Still glad I’ve gained a sister, at least, I hope I gain a sister. Anyway, off to bed for school tomorrow.” Prim said quickly as she hurried off to her room.

You graned at the mention of the building. “Ew. School. It’s like... gross.”

Katniss turned back around and gave her girlfriend a hug. “It’s okay, I’m still picking you up.”

“Can I stay here?” You asked.

Katniss sighed, “It is literally the farthest you can be from the school. Unless you want to wake up early.”

“It’s dark out. I don’t want to go home just in case.” You said, laying back down on Katniss.

“Just in case what?” She asked, continuing to stroke your cheek.

You pulled a blanket onto yourself. “Nothing good happens after dark.” You responded plainly.

“Fine... I guess I’ll just have to cuddle with you tonight.” Katniss said, feigning annoyance and getting up to go to her room with you.

You playfully hit her arm. “Because it’s so hard...” You mocked.

“Shut up and go to bed.” Katniss told you, leading you to her room for the night.

Instead of sleep it was a night filled with conversation, giggles, and cuddles. Sleep was not on the schedule, according to you.

#katniss everdeen #katniss everdeen x reader #katniss x reader #katniss everdeen x you #katniss everdeen x y/n #katnis x you #katniss x y/n #fic request #hunger games fics #hunger games x reader #katniss x fem!reader #fem!reader #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥the oracle and your fate.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.#➴➵➶➴athena writes➶➴➵➶

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berryfeilds · 3 months

Text

thinking abt a cmbyn au with sirius being forced by his parents into visiting a wealthy family residing in the north of italy with whom they're in contact. he'd gotten in special trouble that year and he was sent to the countryside as retribution for embarrassing the noble family name.

but instead of despising the humid air, the ineluctable work, and groaning small talk, he finds himself enamored with the estate's only daughter, you.

you with your glowing face and flower lips, your luscious legs glistening from the pond water, and your figure clad in that dangerous swimsuit -fuck this was bad.

first rule of staying with your despised family friend is not to get involved with said family friend; and there he was, longingly gazing at you sitting in the garden's bench as your ruffled dress flowed with the sultry summer wind. you were currently filling in some extra work for your parents while listening to whatever was currently playing on the radio. your hair shines in the wind while making quick work of the pages that beguile your attention. you're perfect; quiet but feisty, you keep up with his perpetual banter and have a way with words that renders him speechless -oh, and your voice- like the creamy gelato from that shop you both biked to when you both wanted to cool off the summer heat after showing him around the quaint town.

you were perfect but also off fucking limits.

how was it that he was stuck in the same house with radiant you and he couldn't even talk to you! and it's not like it was his damn choice either. on his first day, after the niceties and small talk, your father asked -well rather commanded- that he was not to disturb you; restricted in bold, red letters, but more posh, if you will.

"listen, Sirius, you're welcome here anytime," the overbearing tone of your father's voice and the grimace on his face upon his arrival said otherwise.

"but I need to talk to you about a pressing matter at hand," he turned around to face Sirius squarely, "i've heard about your rather dallying engagements at school, and i want to make sure that no one messes up the quiet environment that my family has worked very hard to build," he finishes with a sigh.

sirius quirks his brows up questioningly.

"i have a feeling you're not finished,"

your father clears his throat before continuing.

"that quiet environment includes my daughter, sirius. and i'd like it if you were not to meddle with her or disrupt her academics or life with your rough ways,"

sirius scoffs humorlessly, well the insults didn't take long.

"I apologize for being so blunt but it's all to protect her, i hope you take my cautions to mind." He ends with a nod.

before sirius can add his aggravated input, your mother comes barreling in with beaming smiles and open arms. "sirius, mon amour!"

after catching up with your mother as she painfully asks personal questions about his life and how his schooling is, he finally escapes her claws and spends the rest of the day getting accustomed to the mansion and ever-lasting gardens.

the walls are littered with grand paintings that probably date back centuries and bookshelves overflowing with old pages and maps that look well-loved and have been read about a thousand times.

at least i'll have something to do here. sirius thinks as he rounds out the room that he assumes was a library, before he bumps into something -or rather someone.

"oh, mi dispiace papa-" your sentence cuts off when your eyes pan up from the flying papers that slipped out your hand to see that the man you bumped into was certainly not your father.

"nessun problema amore," sirius steadies you with his arms grasping gently at your waist.

you survey the boy as you pull away from his large and warm hands. it's then that it hits you like a ton of bricks that one: this is sirius black, the guest your family was housing for the summer, and two: you've already made a fool of yourself.

"oh i apologize, i'm not used to watching where i go," you react.

you quickly bend down to the papers that were released upon impact. sirius quickly follows in your footsteps and helps you in your trek of the blown pages.

"don't worry, i usually have that effect on people," he smirks at you.

a slight huff escapes your pretty mouth as you reach for a paper between the two of you; your fingers touch and it almost feels electrifying.

a quick apology falls off your lips, but sirius ignores it as he grabs the paper. you both stand and face your perched frames. he hands you the stray paper as he stares at you, an easy smile playing at his lips.

"i believe this is the last of your fallen," he sits with a coy and cool aura.

"thank you," you reply softly, avoiding his piercing eyes. you fiddle for half a second before realizing that you were standing there like an idiot.

"how rude of me- i haven't introduced myself, " you offer your name and finally gaze into his blue eyes.

"flying papers tend to charm the masses," he chuckles.

his hands are in his pockets as he stands cooly. he looks at you with his tall build. you know he's not trying to intimidate you -but god does he have to be so tall?

"i hope your settled in alright," you offer an awkward nod of your head.

"oh yes, don't worry, your mother took precise care of me alright," he shrugs of jokingly.

"sirius by the way, it's lovely meeting you,"

you breathe in before raising your hand out for a shake. sirius stares at you with raises his eyebrows amusingly before taking your hand delicately; he swells your pretty hand to his face and plants a soft kiss on your knuckles.

the action has you burning and tingly, starry-eyed as he flows your hand back down.

"it's lovely to meet you too,"

you swiftly compose yourself before speaking again, hoping to break out from the awkward introductions.

"well, if you need anything i'm sure i'll be near by, don't hesitate to ask," you end with a tentative quirk of your lips.

you cross over to the library sirius just walked out from, swiftly avoiding him; possibly for the entire trip.

sirius turns to look at your leaving form -well running is more like it- before pursing his lips; he chuckles lightly and shakes his head before following you. he enters the room he's inspected once before and lays his eyes on you. the sunlight hits your figure perfectly as you work your way around one of the many desks in the library.

"not very chatty aren't you?"

you turn your head in surprise; you didn't think he was going to follow you, let alone keep the -rather uncomfortable- small talk going. I mean you hadn't given him much to work with, hoping you could be left to your own devices but you guessed the english aren't very fond of discerning body language.

you don't quite know how to answer him. should you joke? deflect? ignore? perhaps you could make a friend? it'll give you an opportunity to maybe get to know each other; be so close you can escape your parents' dictatorial attitudes. it wouldn't hurt to loosen up and say fuck all to everything. from what you've heard, sirius gets into all sorts of meetings with rascality and has made quite a name for himself in hogwarts.

"not used to having many guests, that's all,"

you settle on not upsetting your parents. you already have too much to worry about.

plus the truth doesn't hurt. short and sweet. maybe he'll leave you alone soon if you keep your answers brief. last thing you want now is for some random guy whose in trouble with his parents, to come in and mess up your quiet life; your bubble.

"do you have friends?"

"yes,"

"do they come over often?"

"we don't have many guests," you end matter-factly.

merlin, have conversations been this hard? why is it so difficult to talk to you? i mean you're not exactly giving him anything to work with but usually, he's not this...nervous.

he nods as he walks around the room he's already inspected once before. he picks up a stray tennis ball and throws it up and down distracting himself from the tension you've built. he clicks his lips as he stands in front of a world map sat on the wall.

"so what do you do all day? i can't imagine sitting and filling in work for your father is a particularly exhilarating activity,"

"im sure arranging futile stunts and ogling at girls is a better way to waste the day, huh?”

you keep your eyes on the desk below, effectively avoiding the wince on sirius face. of course you would know why his parents all but threw him out on the street like an unwanted dog to stay with you.

"ah so you know of my endeavors,"

"very little,"

"i could tell you all about them, me and my friends get into quite the mischief," he's desperately trying to make a good impression but it all seems to fail -you won't even look up at him! god, forbid you give him a full sentence!

"sounds exciting,"

avoiding you won’t be a problem at all seeing as you can barely stand him talking to you. but the problem is: he’s bored. Incredibly so. and he has nothing to do here at all, except help your father with his work. maybe he should brush up on his italian; if he’s going to the town and meet the people living. perhaps they would be happy with his company. or he could find someone to help him run away from this impromptu and not desired vacation. he'll have to pen james and get him to help.

you pause your fuss with the endless pages and inhale for a second. you weigh your current odds and think about the situation at hand. you don't have many friends, considering the fact that your father picks and chooses who you hang out with; all snobs and money-hungry freaks who care for nothing of the world. you only ever talk to them for absolutely necessary occasions -and even then you tend to avoid them. maybe this would be good, a fresh start and a new soul who is nothing like your parents, seeing as he defies every rule his own guardians bestow on him.

maybe it's time to pop the bubble.

you turn around and clutch your hands to your front before remarking quietly to his previous question.

"there's a secluded river i like to go to when it gets a little too hot. i usually spend the rest of my days there, reading, writing, whatever comes to mind,"

he turns his head to look at you in slight surprise, he hadn't expected you to -well, talk to him- but this is a step!

"i also like visiting downtown on occasion, there's a family-owned store that sells homemade gelato. it's exceptionally better than what i recon they have in england," you try to joke; hopefully you aren't overdoing it.

"oh, believe me you would fall dead if you saw what they serve there," he jokingly gags.

you softly chuckle at his antics and rest your bottom on the desk.

"if you have errands to run you're welcome to join me; im going downtown for a little bit to grab a few things for father,"

sirius' mouth is agape as he stares at you. maybe being an idiot pays off. he quickly regains himself. not now! do not fuck this up!

"you know what, i think i will -only if you show me this lovely gelato shop." he bites away at a forming grin as he eyes you.

"we have a deal then." you throw him a small smile of your own.

"we have a deal."

maybe summer in nowhere italy wouldn't be so bad.

#i smell snow #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black reader insert #sirius x you #sirius black fluff

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