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Summary: How would our Fourth Wing men react to walking in on their girl pleasuring themselves? Let's find out.
Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Masturbation. Use of pet names. Signet Use - Shadowplay. Voyeurism. Teasing/Stimulation. Oral (F receiving). Insinuated P in V unprotected Sex. Very very slight Onyx Storm spoiler (use of a line a character says).
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Garrick
This man would just walk into your room without even knocking, catching you in the act. At first you wouldn’t even notice he was there, too caught up in what you we’re doing. Eyes closed as you pleasure yourself, your brain thinking of how good Garrick had looked earlier in challenges.
Garrick would close the door behind him quietly, his eyes completely focused on you and what you’re doing. His eyes watching every move you make, listening to the little moans and gasps coming from your lips. He’d be content on watching till just the right moment to make his presence known. Which is when his name falls from your lips.
He walks over to your bed, quietly removing his shirt and boots so he doesn’t alert you to his presence, before kneeling next your bed and pulling you towards him. Garrick chuckles as you shriek with surprise before trying to scramble away and cover yourself.
He’d tighten his grasp on your hips before standing up and leaning over you, pinning your wrists above your head as he looks down at your. “Where do you think you’re going sweetheart? You can’t moan my name like that and not expect me to do something about it.”
Before you can respond Garrick kneels back down and continues what you’d stopped, his fingers and mouth having you moaning and gasping before coming all over them multiple times.
Bodhi
He’d also just walk in, but unlike Garrick he would not be as subtle about it. He’d walk in, look over at your bed, eyes going wide as he scrambles to shut the door behind him with a loud bang which startles you.
Bodhi just stares at you with his hand still on the door he’s slammed shut. Torn between shocked and turned on at what he’s walked in on you doing, which causes you to giggle at him as you get up and walk over to him.
His eyes trailing over your naked body as you walk over to him, still unsure how to react to what he saw. He’s also a little hurt you had resorted to pleasuring yourself. But he was meant to be gone on a supply run till tomorrow.
Just as you get to him he’d snap out of it, grabbing your arm before he spins you both around, pinning you to the door before he kneels in front of you. Smirking up at you as he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, exposing you to him.
“Don’t worry darling, I’m here to take care of you now.” He tells you before devouring you.
Xaden
He’d know what you were up to before he even walked in to the door. He’d sneak in so he wouldn’t disturb you, leaning up against the door as he watches you pleasure yourself. Listening to the little noises you’d make while you pleasure yourself.
He wouldn’t walk over to you, instead he’d try something a little different. He’d control his shadows, slowly creeping them towards you so you wouldn’t be alerted to their presence and therefore his. Slowly they’d caress your body, adding to what you’re doing.
After a while Xaden wouldn’t be able to help himself and would make his presence known. His shadows no longer being soft and gentle. Instead they would wrap around your wrists, pulling them above your head as your eyes snap open and meet Xaden’s onyx eyes as he leans over you.
“So desperate. Not even a night and you’re already pleasuring yourself.” He’d teases as his shadows caress your body, causing you to tug at the one’s holding your wrists captive before you throw your head back and moan as they caress between your legs. “Now let me show you how it’s actually done.”
Liam
He’d close the door behind him lean up against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and smirk at the sight before him.
“Well, what do we have here?” He’d tease, not even trying to hide the fact he’s walked in on you.
You go to cover yourself up at the shock of Liam walking in on you, but he rushes forward and stops you, a soft smile on his lips as he looks down at you, his blonde hair flopping into his eyes.
“Don’t stop on my behalf love.” He’d say softly before kneeling between your legs, shrugging off his jacket and shirt. “We’re just getting started.”
He’d pull you back down the bed towards him as you yelp and giggle at his actions, before leaning in and placing soft kisses on your inner thigh before continuing what you’d started.
Dain
He’d be about to walk in, hand on the door handle when he’d hear you cry out. He’d mistake it for you being in pain and rush in ready to help you, but stop mid stride as your eyes snap open and meet his while you’re fingers are still inside you.
“Close the door!” You’d shriek at him, grabbing a pillow to throw at him before he quickly shuts the door, even though it’s later at night and no one is out in the halls. “I thought you were on patrol tonight?”
That was the only reason you’d chosen to do what you were doing. You were needy, had been craving him after watching him win his challenge with ease. But he’d been assigned patrol tonight, and you knew he wouldn’t drop it for the fact you were horny and desperate for him. So you’d done what you always did when he had a late night patrol.
“They had too many people on so they gave me the night off.” He tells you as he walks over to you. He reaches out and cups your cheek, not intending to read your thoughts, but because he’s so tired his shields aren’t as strong as they usually were. And he gets an insight to your thoughts. And he see’s this is not the first time you’ve done this.
“Do you do this every time I have patrol?” He says with shock, not expecting this to be a regular occurrence.
You bite your lip and nod as you aver your eyes from his, not sure if he’s angry that you do this regularly. It’s not your fault he looks so good taking on his opponents during challenges and always has patrols the same night.
“Eyes on me.” He tells you as he grips your chin and turns your head back towards him, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “Let’s get you taken care of.”
Brennan
He’d walk in as per normal, completely run down and tired from a day dealing with the assembly, shrugging out of his clothes. He’d look up, seeing your bed empty. You’d clearly been here though, the sheets messed up as if you’d gone to lie down.
Then he hears it. Your soft moans echoing from the bathroom door that’s open ever so slightly. The sound already having him hard and wanting you even with how tired and drained he is.
He pushes open the door to see you sat in the bathtub facing away from him, head thrown back over the edge with your eyes shut as you moan and shiver.
As he gets closer he can hear the water running, but the bath sounds suspiciously empty. And that’s when he see’s why you’re sat the way you are. The water is on, but it’s purpose is not to fill the bath. It’s to pleasure you, while you pump your fingers in and out. He can’t deny he’s not impressed by your creativeness.
He leans over the bathtub, being careful not to touch you as he turns the water off. Your eyes fly open, meeting Brennan’s amber eyes as he braces himself on the edge of the bathtub and looks down at you.
“Look at you being creative in my absence.” He teases as he reaches out and caresses your cheek, his thumb running over your swollen lip where you’ve tugged and dragged it though your teeth. “Now lets get you dried off so I can finish what you’ve started.”
Aaric
He would not be subtle about walking in on you. You wouldn’t hear him walk in, but he’d make his presence known. He’d stand there, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at you.
“Well, what do we have here.” He’d tease, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips as you startle at his words, sitting upright as you scurry back on your bed clutching your chest till you realise it’s Aaric in your room.
He’d walk over to your bed, slowly taking off his boots, jacket and shirt before slowly undoing the ties of his pants and pushing them down his legs, watching as you squirm under his gaze before he kneels on your bed.
He’d grasp your ankles, pulling you towards him as you yelp in surprise. He’d push your legs apart before positioning himself between them and leaning over you as he braces himself on your bed with a hand either side your head.
He’d rock back and forth, the head of his dick slowly back and forth, teasing you as you squirm beneath him. “Someone’s needy tonight.” He’d murmur against your lips.
“P-please Aaric.” You’d beg as he continues to slowly rock back and forth, sometimes pushing the tip in just a little bit before pulling back out and going back to what he was doing.
“Please what? Use your words sweetheart.” He’d tell you, wanting you to beg for him. He might despise his father and everything his family stands for. But he can’t help but crave the way you beg and plead for him to please you.
And finally you do, begging him to fuck you, to ruin you. To give you what you’d been imagining in your mind before he walked in. “Good girl.”
A/N: FW, IF, and OS Spoilers (They're small, but you've been warned.), death, grief, loss, disappearance, swearing
Word Count: 13k
Follows Xaden's POV prior to and through 'Forgotten'.
Forgotten - Home
Please let me know if y'all think I did our favorite Wingleader justice!
Fucking Sorrengail.
My only thought as I skulk down the halls trying my best to get to Y/N’s room as quickly as possible. The beginning of this year has been a shit show trying to explain as best I could why I needed to involve myself with Sorrengail, but now with her bonded to Tairn, everything seems to be unraveling.
As I reach Y/N’s door, I can’t help my hesitation, this won’t be the first time this week that I didn’t keep my promise to her. Taking a deep breath to try and calm my aggravation, I knock lightly on her door with our rap of a knock. The seconds begin ticking between the knock and my ears are greeted with nothing but silence. Eyes focused on the grains streaking through her wooden door, my thoughts will her to open. Anxiety begins sinking her sharp claws into my chest as continual silence greets my ears.
‘Clearly the Devoted One has decided she did not want to wait.’ Sgaeyl snarks in my mind.
My eyes narrow in a glare aimed directly at my impudent dragon, always wanting the last laugh. Always putting me in my place. It isn’t as though Sgaeyl isn’t privy to all the way’s I’ve felt my failings of keeping everything contained this year. As if sensing I need some type of reprieve for the night, Sgaeyl interjects once again.
‘Dhioch says she is out at the tree line. I suggest you tread carefully, Dhioch is not very happy.’ I send my thanks back through our bond and am moving as fast as I can to her. There is nothing in Sgaeyl’s last statement that does anything to calm the anxiety still sinking its talons into my chest.
Heavy footfalls eat up the distance between the fortress of Basgiath and the tree line and the minute I step closer to the river, I see a form in the distance.
My heart cracks when she finally comes into full focus. Sitting with her back against the tree and eyes closed turned up to the stars, tracks of tears glisten in the moonlight against her skin. The silver streaks of light cast the trails in an ethereal glow, in direct opposition to the reality behind the reason they are there. Not for the first time this year, I curse myself for the many ways I’ve come to fail her.
As I take in her slumped frame, I can’t even remember the last time I was able to spend any time with her in my arms. Between Wingleader duties, aiding the Poromish, dealing with the Assembly, and now trying to teach Violet Sorrengail how to not die, I have done nothing but disappoint the enigmatically beautiful, trusting, and far too good for me girl that sits alone and crying.
It isn’t the first time that the thought of scooping her up and taking her to Aretia with me and never leaving has crossed my mind. It’s the one thought that has been playing on repeat, for the last year especially, though it’s probably been there since I first laid eyes on her.
I take another step forward and feel a branch crack under the weight of my boots. The minute the noise greets her ears; she’s wiping her tears and scrambling to her feet rushing to disguise the reason she’s out here. Her eyes meet mine for less than a second before she’s moving away.
“Wait, Blaze.” I plead as my arm shoots out to stop her from leaving, but she does her best to sidestep my reach.
“I’m tired Xaden. I’m going to sleep.” The weariness in her voice makes the talons in my chest tighten further as the truth of how much I’ve hurt her makes itself known.
I shake my head and let my shadows wrap around her waist stopping her from leaving. She’s been more than patient with me and my inability to give her the attention she deserves and wants. Constantly reassuring me that she understands that I have all these duties to complete, graciously squeezing my hand when I’m held back in training with Sorrengail, even bringing me dinner on a few occasions when things were too hectic to go myself. Never forgetting to grab me something sweet and leaving it on my desk when I return to my room, almost too tired to move. And yet, I can’t help but notice the way that the tether between us has gone taught and the usual sunny demeanor she wears wavering as the days go on.
“Come sleep in my room.” I know that I’m pushing, but I need her with me if I’m going to get even an ounce of sleep tonight. My failings be damned, she’s the only slice of peace I’ve found in this torment. “Please.”
My insomnia has been terrible since the apostasy, and she’s been the only thing that’s brought me a semblance of serenity and the ability to finally rest. Tonight though, if she’s not with me, I know it will just be tossing and turning until the morning when hopefully the anxiety would melt with the warmth of her smile.
As she turns to me, I can see she immediately wants to say no, to put distance between us and guard herself. It hasn’t gone unnoticed that she’s been pulling away from everyone in our found family. Trying to close herself off. Trying to guard her heart. When all I want to do is make her understand how much that is the antithesis of everything I want.
The last thing I’ve ever wanted was for her to guard her heart, especially not from me, not once she gave it to me. The burning fire of her love enveloped me the more I’ve gotten to know her, and I fear if she takes it from me, I’ll never feel the warmth of the emotion again.
As I look at her, I can see the hesitation in her eyes, the war that wages in her beautiful stare. The openness of her expressive eyes has always drawn me in and kept me focused on only her, though the way they’ve dimmed in the last few months has been a swift dagger to my heart every time.
With a heaving sigh she closes her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. “Alright.” She murmurs so quietly it barely floats to my ears.
My own emotions are torn between elation at the fact that she’ll still be with me and knowing that everything between us isn’t alright. Before we move any further, I can’t stop myself, I take her face in my hands and kiss her slowly, gently hoping to convey just how precious she is. I only hope that she can feel every ounce of my love, of the silent, desperate plea for her to be patient with this crazy life I’ve brought her into.
The kiss doesn’t last long before I’m pulling back and looking down into her eyes. My forehead leans on hers as I try to calm the anxiety that hasn’t fully receded, but it’s almost impossible to quash when I take in the puffy state of her eyes and the way they are rimmed in red.
My anger and frustration are barely contained, but I know if I lash out in any way it will begin to seal the end to her patience with me. Besides, she’s not the one I’m mad at, the anger is at the situation we find ourselves in, the threat of war, the constant pull that I need to be somewhere else. On top of that, she consistently bears the threats and sneers that find their way to her because of my last name and the mark on my left arm.
I lead her back to my room, and the walk is filled with a slightly uncomfortable silence. As we enter, I can feel her reluctance almost like it has become a separate being standing between us. Every part of me wants to kill her trepidation and reassure her in every way I possibly can, but at the same time the logical side of me knows this won’t be the last time she’s left disappointed.
Walking into the room, I turn to her and take her face in my hands again and stroke her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” I whisper as I clutch her face with a firm grip, trying to keep her with me in any way I can.
She gives me a small tug of her lips back, but there’s no warmth or happiness in the gesture. Every single line of her face is creased in a tightness I’ve never seen before, and my eyes scan hers trying to figure out how I can reverse the damage I’ve already caused.
She pulls out of my grasp, and I let her, my hands dropping defeatedly at my side. Wordlessly, I watch as she continues her normal routine when she stays with me. She takes off her leathers and heads to the bathing chamber to wash the day off and I’m left racking my brain again.
Although its only minutes, the time seems to drag on far too long as I sit here pacing and waiting for her to finish. The time does nothing to settle the unease that sinks its sharp claws through every soft emotion I have. The oppressive silence that has lingered keeping us from bridging the gap.
When she comes back in, she is clad only in one of my shirts, and my blood heats at the beautiful picture in front of me. I take my time letting my gaze fall up and down every curve, taking in every single line of her body and committing it to memory. I know the last thing on her mind is sex, but that doesn’t change the fact that seeing her like this turns me on every fucking time.
My own thoughts are broken as she slams herself down on the bed and falls back into the pillow. Without looking at me, she pulls the covers over herself and turns away from me. Despair fills my mind as I rush to shower and change so that she’s not alone for longer than need be. The minute I come back; I’m sliding in bed with her. Immediately turning her to face me or at least try to.
Even though I know she’s not sleeping, she doesn’t make it easy for me to see her face.
“Blaze, love. Turn around, please.” I murmur softly near her ear, trying to be as coaxing and patient as possible.
Eventually she gives in and turns to face me, seeing the additional tears that have fallen, it makes my heart crack even more. Instinctually, I move my hand to her face and gently wipe the salty tracks from her face, trying to erase every single one that has dropped from her mind.
“I’m so sorry, Love. Please forgive me.” I stop at a loss for how to convey everything I want to say. “I lost track of time with training with Sorrengail trying to get her better with defensive positions and then I had an emergency leadership meeting. The day just went to complete shit not long after dinner.”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, almost as if she’s come to a decision in her mind. “It’s alright, I forgive you.” Short. Sweet. But, most definitely not to the point. I’m not naïve to know that there’s plenty she’s not saying.
My arm drapes over her waist and I pull her closer. “Are you sure? I know I’ve been an incredible ass and have probably broken every damn promise I’ve made in the last week, hell even longer than that. I can’t imagine it’s that easy to forgive.”
The watery smile that she gives me back breaks my heart. “No, it’s not. But I know that you have things weighing you down and the last thing I want to do is add to the burdens you carry.”
My eyes flash at her statement and I immediately pull her as close as I possibly can, tightening my hold. “Please tell me you don’t think you’re a burden. That’s the absolute last thing you are to me.”
“Aren’t I though? Just one more thing you must take care of in your overly packed day.” I lay my forehead on hers as I fight back the emotion that threatens to overwhelm me.
“No, Love. You are the only thing that I want to take care of in my day. It breaks me to know that you see yourself as anything less than a gift.” She closes her eyes and by the way I feel her body soften ever so slightly, the weight on my chest seems to lift faintly.
“No matter how busy my day gets, how many times you think someone else has my priority, I need you to remember that you – YOU – are the only true priority in my life.” My eyes and tone grow as serious as I can possibly make them, trying to convey how much truth there is to the statement.
Without responding, she leans in and kisses me. My heart soars at the possibility that she understands how vital she is to me. The kiss is all consuming and every thought flies from my head. The stress and the strain of the day completely melting away into just the feeling of her, here in my bed, wrapped in my arms and my lips attached firmly to hers.
I pull my hand to the nape of her neck and tangle my fingers in her hair deepening the kiss, trying to pour every ounce of apology and love that I can into it. Every single nerve in my body alights with a fire that only burns with Y/N’s touch.
Allowing the kiss to turn slow and gentle, I move my forehead back to hers. “Let’s get some sleep. It’s late and I want to spend the morning slowly with you.”
“Tomorrow. Always tomorrow.” The small tight smile she gives me settles me slightly as I watch her close her eyes and begin to drift to sleep.
“I love you.” I whisper against her skin before kissing her forehead and tucking her in closely to me. With hope that tomorrow I would be able to prioritize the beautiful girl in front of me, I drift off to sleep holding her firmly to my side.
__________________________
As if in answer to my pleas, every god in the pantheon has conspired against me from that day. First it was watching her face fall as she saw the arsenal of daggers, I had made for Sorrengail, but I couldn’t tell her they were really at the behest of Sorrengail’s not-so-dead brother.
Then it was the saddle at war games. I watched as her eyes lost their light and she hid behind Dhioch’s leg until everyone mounted. Not once did I see her or Dhioch on the field the entire time, a knot of worry coiled in my chest, especially when I learned of the injured from the wing. And after the insanity of the day, I didn’t even get a chance to find her when I found myself in the infirmary looking after Liam. All of us rattled after his injury.
Next, days spent in the common room all of us studying for one of the thousands of different battle strategies that we needed to learn for our last third year exam. At first, she would join us in our studies and then as the weeks went on, she just avoided commons completely. The room losing the warmth with the continual loss of her.
I would see her in class and pull her to me every time, making sure to sit next to her, to try and get her attention. Though as days wore on, it was impossible to miss the way she kept pushing everyone away. The sunshine of a smile rarely graced her face. A laugh from her lips nearly impossible to hear. And every single time I had to walk away from her and watch her face fall, all I wanted to do is say fuck all to duty and lock us both away together.
Unfortunately, my father instilled the unwavering need to always complete my duty, sacrificing anything and everything else. The duty to Tyrrendor and Aretia as her Duke, to help those in need, the people of our land, to my family, but there was one thing my father never schooled me on.
Love.
When my mother disappeared, my father dove into work and duty leaving the possibility of love behind. Every waking hour was spent in the service of Aretia and Tyrrendor, save for the exceptions he made to spend time with me. Though even in those times, it was mainly to remind me of everything that I needed to be ready to shoulder. The expectations in the life of a noble. Even in his tutelage, he never even alluded to the possibility of ever finding love.
Never once can I remember him telling me what or who I would need to be to love someone properly. Even when he decided that I was to be betrothed to one of the heirs of Poromiel.
Then after the apostasy and my father’s execution, the thought of love was such a foreign concept that I pushed it aside, exchanging it for only pleasure and detachment.
It wasn’t until those eyes filled with warmth and life found mine and the bright smile splashed across her face broke every wall as if they had never stood in the first place. She was my absolute opposite in every way, but there was always something about her that my soul could never deny.
As the year drew closer to the anniversary of the apostasy, my frigid demeanor did nothing to help our situation. Between Sorrengail’s persistent fishing for random things about me, the looming deadline of graduation, and the heaviness of the day, it was only a matter of time before the short leash I had on my temper erupted.
Regrettably, it was directed at the one person who I wanted to wrap myself around and disappear with for the remainder of the day.
“Are you going to be training with Sorrengail again tonight?” The soft whisper of her voice floated to my ears as she came up from behind me in the hall.
The frustrated growl that emanated from me started the small spark that turned into a raging wildfire between us.
“Of course not. I’d rather be doing anything but dealing with anything or anyone inside of this godsforsaken school today.” The tone of my voice was anything but pleasant and I wanted to recoil at the devastated look on her face, but the weight of the day proved too much.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Xaden.” The icy tone that she gave back to me did nothing to help with the anger burning in my chest. “Didn’t know I was included on your list of inconveniences.”
“Gods. Why do you have to make this about you? Don’t you think for once it doesn’t need to be about you wallowing in the hole of self-pity you’ve dug for yourself?” The accusation in my tone is uncalled for, along with my words, but I’m at my wits end and don’t care. No one has ever told me anything helpful comes through anger, but that doesn’t stop the rage coiling inside me. Even though she is more than justified and I’m not.
‘If you keep pushing the Devoted One, you may find yourself regretting your words.’ Sgaeyl tries to knock some sense into me, but I can’t help the fire that seems to burn through every thought.
“If that’s how you feel then I will gladly take my wallowing elsewhere Xaden.” Her defiant tone makes my nostrils flare as she turns and begins to walk away from me, but not before calling over her shoulder. “In fact, you can just forget about me all together. Be well, wingleader.”
The voice at the back of my head is screaming at me that I’m an idiot and I need to immediately go after her and apologize. However, the anger and despair that has made a home in my chest over the last few days at the anniversary of my father’s death causes me walk away in the other direction.
When the day of the apostasy arrives, I haven’t seen the only sunlight in my life outside of classes. Every single time I try to get her attention, just to get her to look at me, she exquisitely avoids every attempt. Slipping through my fingers at every turn, even though I’ve been searching for her.
‘You can only brood about one thing at a time.’ Sgaeyl tries to tease through our bond, knowing that my mind is split in two directions.
As I sit on the parapet staring at the star speckled sky and the moon that illuminates charred corners of my soul, the replay of my last conversation with my Blaze sits heavily on my mind. The words said to her in anger reflecting the same way I spoke to my father the last time I saw him. If there is anything in this world that I don’t want, it is for her to leave me as abruptly as my father did. Especially not to words only spoken out of fear and anger.
‘Seems you have other problems to deal with first.’ Sgaeyl purrs through my mind, a small hint of amusement in her tone.
My brows furrow until I turn to the right and see a sight I never thought I would. Violet fucking Sorrengail is walking out on the parapet in a dress, aimed straight for me.
“Go back. What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Sorrengail?” I toss at her but am unsure if my voice has carried over the wind.
I eat up the steps between us quickly to make sure that I don’t end up dying from the utter stupidity of this woman. She may be smart, but she lacks common fucking sense.
“Coming to check on the brooding Wingleader. It hasn’t escaped my notice that you and L/N have been distant of late.” Violet states as if she has been observing my personal relationship with a scrutiny well beyond passing interest.
“The state of my relationship isn’t any of your concern. I’m only involved with you because of our mated dragons, nothing more, nothing less.” I can only hope that the firm tone in my voice will stop her incessant questions, because all they are doing is putting me more on edge about losing the girl that has seemed to disappear from this damned school.
“Come now Xaden, you can’t expect me to believe that you don’t harbor any feelings for me. An arsenal of weapons, a saddle, one on one training, I’m pretty sure you’ve spent more time with me this year than the girl you claim as yours.” The words hit home in a way that makes my heart crack open wide, a sharp dagger straight to the center of my heart. It isn’t because she’s wrong, no, it’s because every single thing she just said is absolutely right.
Taking a moment to look to the sky, the stars seem to mock me as they sparkle brightly in stark opposition to my entire life. I take a deep breath to center myself and my mind clicks. There is only one place that I’m going, one place I really want to be, and I need Violet to get her ass back to the citadel to do it.
“Look, you can think whatever you want, but there is a girl in that citadel I need to see, and it isn’t you. So, you need to get yourself back on solid ground.” I firmly grip her shoulders and turn her, beginning to march her back towards the opening.
She stutter steps and brings us both to a halt, irritating me further. “You can’t honestly tell me that I mean nothing to you.”
“Violet, I would be lying if I said I haven’t come to care about you. But you are a friend, at most.” The irritation in my voice is clear, though I mean the words I say. “However, there is a girl in there that I’m in love with, and I need to remind her right now, so get moving.”
I don’t miss the irritated huff leaving Violet’s mouth, but luckily for me she begins moving again. The last thing I want to do is have to sit here and explain to her why I would never choose her first. The minute we step down from the parapet, I’m about to begin a sprint to get to the girl that I’m wishing was with me when the blast of an alarm blares into the night.
Fuck.
Every thought leaves my mind as I begin racing to my room instead of towards the girl I’m desperate to see. Meeting Garrick in the hall, he informs me of what he knows as I head to my room to begin strapping the other weapons I left behind to my back and empty sheathes. Conferring about the squad, he leaves with his orders to gather those that are important and give them their orders.
Once I enter my room, I stop dead in my tracks. There, on my desk, rests a plate with the largest piece of chocolate cake I’ve ever seen. As I examine it, I find the only other thing left there is a fork. No note. No indication of where it comes from, but there is no need. There is only one other person that can cross my wards, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Even with our fight and my uncalled-for anger, she still is there to make sure I’m taken care of. A talent of hers that I know I don’t deserve.
Making sure I don’t feel forgotten.
Finally walking onto the dais with the cadre of Basgiath, I let my gaze wander over fourth wing and search for the one person that I need. Locking eyes on her, it is impossible to get her attention. She stands there at attention, silent with a stare that is unmoving in front of her. Her squad moves around her, conversations carrying between them, but the look in her eyes is the most vacant I’ve ever seen. She may have made sure I wasn’t alone today, but that doesn’t mean that she hasn’t felt alone and forgotten. My chest tightens when I realize that I may have irrevocably torn up and threw away the only thing in my life that matters, all while having to deal with fucking war games.
After orders are given, I prowl off the dais and Garrick meets me. “I told the others everything. Imogen was directed to let Y/N know she’s with us.”
“The other issue is going to be Sorrengail.” I relay as we begin marching back to our rooms to pack for war games. “I don’t want to take her, but I’m unsure if Tairn will be willing to leave Sgaeyl.”
‘I think you already know the answer to that.’ Sgaeyl huffs, confirming my suspicions.
“Y/N will understand Xaden. She’s always been the one to understand everything you have going on, that she knows about at least.” Garrick tries to placate me, but the look he gives me means even he knows that the tether between Y/N and I is too thin. It isn’t the first time that I’ve wondered if I’ve made the right call leaving Y/N out of the loop regarding the aid we’ve been rendering and the true threats we face.
I close my eyes and blow out a frustrated sigh. “I’m hoping that she can give me this before she just walks away.”
Scoffing, I shake my head. “I never thought this year would be so complicated. And now, we’re about to graduate and most likely won’t even be at the same duty station.”
“I know you, Xaden. If you love her like I think you do, you’ll find a way. You just have to trust that what you’ve built can withstand the storm.” Garrick claps me on the shoulder and squeezes, a silent gesture that he’ll be there no matter what.
I give him a quick nod in acknowledgement and then trudge into my room to finish packing for whatever insanity the cadre has prepared for us this time. Without time to enjoy it, I wrap the cake and add it to my pack hoping that I can share it with my Blaze once everything gets settled. A few minutes later, I’m heading to the flight field and the anxiety swirling in the air has become oppressive, a blanket of unease woven tightly over every single cadet and dragon in the field.
“Something seems different than past war games.” Bodhi muses as he comes up on my left. Chancing a look at him, I can see he is just as tightly wound as I am.
“Considering our directive is to Athebyne, I don’t have any warm and fuzzy feelings about what’s going to be waiting for us.” I confirm to Bodhi as Garrick comes up on the other side.
I motion for Garrick to follow me, and he comes without question. As I’m scanning the flight field, it’s impossible not to notice that Dhioch is the last dragon in the line of riders. Brows furrowing, I don’t let myself focus on it too much, as this isn’t the time for me to have the conversation I want to have.
As we stride toward my Blaze, I see it again, the way the fight drained from her eyes leaving behind an almost vacant look. Anxiety claws its way back into my heart the closer I get to her. She’s looking directly at me, but it feels as if she’s looking through me, registering absolutely nothing.
“I assume Imogen told you that you’re coming with us.” The words leave my mouth, and my tone is nothing but business, belying the fact that I want to be anything but just business with her.
“Yes.” One word. The only thing she gives me. One single word. No emotion, no fight, just stated plainly. The claws in my chest squeeze and I can feel myself walking the knife’s edge, my control hanging on by the barest of threads.
I look over at Garrick and I can see the worry in his eyes causing me to swallow thickly, my stomach dropping. Garrick gives her an understanding look and turns heading back to our group. I can’t help but stand as an immovable statue, everything in me wants to crack, to take her in my arms and remind her how special she is, how much I need her to know that she’s important, but I give her a curt nod and turn away.
Every single nerve in my body is alight with unease. My steps back towards the rest of the group are sure, but inside the tempest raging is testing my control. From my peripherals I can see shadows begin to writhe in agitation, responding to the pulsing of power and apprehension that’s coursing through my veins.
Another question floats through my mind. Why is she so far away from everyone? Dhioch may not be as large as Sgaeyl, but she’s one of the most powerful in our year, size only slightly smaller than Chradh. My questions and worry must be loud enough to discomfort Sgaeyl, because she lowers her head and gives me a look that tells me she knows more than I do.
As I finally reach Garrick, he’s gathered with Bodhi and Liam probably going over the plans once we get to Athebyne. Until I get close enough to hear their conversation.
“I think it’s more than just feeling inconsequential. I’ve never seen her pull into such a shell of herself.” Bodhi’s words float to my ears as his back is turned to me. My stomach turns to lead and as soon as I reach the group, all our gazes look back and fall to the girl who was only ever a glowing ray of light in a life of unnatural grey.
As if pulled by our gazes, I watch as her eyes meet ours though nothing passes through her gaze. Staring at those eyes that have been my undoing, I set my resolve that as soon as we are out of the confines of Basgiath, I’m going to tell her everything. I’m exhausted from trying to hide everything and I refuse to let the last tether between us go.
My own plans for my Blaze solidified, I call out for the squad and mount Sgaeyl. “Headquarters squad, let’s go.”
Taking to the skies only quickens the pace of my heart. Though it’s impossible to sift through the anxiety that eats at me for the entirety of the six and a half hours it takes to reach the lake outside of Athebyne. I’m sitting on tenterhooks by the time Sgaeyl begins her descent to the lake. It’s only sharpened when I realize that Dhioch never seemed to catch up to the riot completely, for some reason they had launched significantly later than the rest of the squad.
Dismounting I can’t help but scan the skies looking for any trace of Dhioch’s scales. Scanning the area quickly, since I’ve been here more than a few times for drops. ‘The Devoted One is about ten minutes behind us.’ Sgaeyl confirms and it makes my heart race faster.
‘Why did they launch so much later? And why are they flying slower than usual?’ I can’t keep the questions in when Sgaeyl confirms that they are so far behind from where I’d prefer my Blaze to be.
‘You will have to speak to the Devoted One.’ Sgaeyl confirms as I walk towards Garrick.
“Where’s Y/N?” Garrick immediately asks as he makes his way towards where I stand.
“Sgaeyl says she and Dhioch are about ten minutes behind us. We should see them coming in to land soon.” I confirm, my voice even, but from what I can see my best friend is more than aware that I’m barely holding myself together.
“Are you finally going to tell her everything Xaden? At this point, I don’t think you are helping your cause.” Ever the practical one, Garrick knows what I need to do before even I do.
“Yes, I was hoping I would have just a few minutes with her here, but it isn’t looking like tha–.” My thoughts are cutoff.
‘A drift approaches.’ Sgaeyl’s voice splits into my thoughts and I’m moving.
Throwing shadows around Violet, I rush towards the rocks where she was speaking with Liam, other heavy footfalls following close behind. All thoughts abandon me as I try to figure out how I’m going to explain this to a Sorrengail of all people.
As I make my way towards the fliers, my eyes narrow when I see Syrena step forward. Placing myself ahead of Violet, I let the shadows fall and she steps up next to me. It’s more than obvious she’s ready to pounce on them as the enemy, but I’m not going to let it get that far.
“Why the fuck are you here Syrena?” The dark lilt of my voice shows my obvious distaste for their idiotic decisions.
The moment the words leave my mouth, I can hear Violet gasp. The sizzle of Violet’s power bites as it begins to pierce the air and I immediately turn to Liam, my eyes begging him to contain her. He steps up and wraps her up tight, but not before she decides to give the fliers a light show and call for her menace of a dragon.
“Fuck.” I mutter under my breath as I parse forward to figure out exactly why we’ve been graced with this unplanned visit.
“We’ve come to warn you.” Syrena confirms and I cock an eyebrow. The fliers may be many things but generously warning us of impending raids they plan to execute is usually not one of them.
“Warn us about what exactly? Are you intending on raiding another outpost? You know that we have a planned meeting for tomorrow.” I chance a glance back at Violet and see the shock on her face. I silently let out a huff. Good. Maybe now she’ll back the fuck off.
“Venin.” Syrena lets the word settle before continuing. “A horde is heading north after they decimated a village in the vicinity two days ago. It seems they are heading directly in the path of your outpost at Athebyne.”
“We’re armed and heading to Athebyne.” I confirm, before Syrena nods in acknowledgment.
“Signal if you can get away from those that still wear their rose-colored glasses.” Syrena says while flicking her gaze to Violet. Syrena turns on her heels and the fliers begin to walk back towards their mounts.
Taking a deep breath, the flash of copper in my peripherals brings my gaze up to see Y/N still seated on top of Dhioch as if she has been watching the entire ordeal. Her face looks impassive not a hint of surprise or anger on her face, but it’s the small seething girl in front of me that tears my focus away. Again.
‘Fucking. Traitor.’ Sorrengail’s thoughts are so loud, even without the bond and my signet, I’d be able to read them plainly on her face.
I can see the pain on Liam’s face at the words that she’s beginning to hurl at him. Accusation after accusation, as if she isn’t completely in the dark of what is actually going on.
“Stop Sorrengail.” My words are a command, and she immediately whirls on me, fire burning in her eyes.
“Stop?” Her tone goes low, showing her shallow control. “What exactly am I supposed to stop? You are all fucking traitors and –.”
I don’t let her finish.
“That is what you think, but you have absolutely no idea what is going on outside of the protective wards you’ve grown up in.” It’s obvious the way my words hit home as I watch her begin to squirm, her anger however hasn’t been tamed if the electricity in the air is anything to go by.
“Everything the fliers just said is true. The venin are real and they are threatening everything outside of our borders. They’ve been spreading like an infestation since before my father tried to expose Navarre’s lies.” Pausing, I give her a moment to absorb everything she’s just learned. I keep my mind open, trying to make sure she doesn’t decide to wield and measure her willingness to believe everything I’m saying is true.
I watch as her gaze goes in and out of focus, obviously confirming everything with Tairn. As she begins to work through her fury, her stance begins to soften slightly, and I know it’s to the unfortunate realization that this is the truth.
I don’t stop my explanation. I tell her about the weapons and give her one of the alloyed daggers I have strapped to my thigh, watching as she takes it in her fingers and feels the power thrumming through it. My mind is so focused on the volatile lightning wielder before me, all other thoughts have completely left me.
“You expect me to believe that the cadre of Navarre know all about the venin and refuse to do anything about it.” Violet snipes clearly reticent about the reality that this has been hid from her.
“Yes.” There’s no reason to elaborate, no reason to try and convince her, because if what the fliers said was true, she’s not only learning they’re real, but also, going to be seeing them ourselves.
“If what the fliers say is accurate, I don’t need to convince you. We’ll all be able to see it with our own eyes.”
With that I turn and head towards Sgaeyl, my thoughts in and out of focus between everything that’s happened in the last hour.
“Let’s go.” I call out as I mount Sgaeyl, and we launch headed direct for the outpost.
‘How much did Y/N hear or see?’ I question Sgaeyl, because again she’s too far for me to even gauge an ounce of what she is thinking.
‘Dhioch isn’t speaking with me.’ My heart jumps into my throat at Sgaeyl’s response. ‘However, she was in range the minute I confirmed there was a drift.’
Looking back, I cannot even see the gleam of Dhioch’s copper color and fear again grips me at the thought that I’m going to lose her. I’m fighting for a cause that at every turn seems to do nothing but tear away every single ounce of happiness I’ve ever found, and yet I know I can’t stop.
I found a woman that was more forgiving than anyone had the right to be, constantly assuaging the doubts I had over the time I didn’t get to spend with her. A woman who accepted every dark part of me, helped put every broken piece back together.
Then the additional challenges of General Sorrengail and Brennan’s requests this past year have torn every ounce of grace that my Blaze had ever given me to sunders. Every shard of trust and love built between us torn down for people that would love to see me dead, for a favor I was forced to keep in order to save the lives of children that didn’t deserve their cruelty. A choice that I made because it was the only option left.
My mind spinning, I don’t notice the absolute silence that greets my ears from the fortress as we descend. It isn’t until Sgaeyl lands that I realize we are truly alone at one of the most strategic outposts possible.
Dismounting, I take a quick count, again realizing that we are still short one rider.
‘Tell me the minute they land.’ I know better than to order around Sgaeyl, but I’m more than sure she can feel every single emotion I have that is running wild.
Walking into the outpost the eerie silence spills over every single nook and cranny. I let shadows spill out, crawling and swirling into every crack and crevice trying to find any sign of life, but they come up blank. Every single brick, every crack in the wooden beams scream of nothing but silence and stillness. The largest enemy to any army.
The wind suddenly whips through the open gate, and I look left to right taking in the leery gazes of those around me. Anxiety written plainly on every single face.
‘Dhioch just landed.’ Sgaeyl slithers swiftly into my mind, but I don’t let my focus waver.
“Divide and search. From what I can tell, the outpost is deserted.” I turn looking to the group, my focus hardening to the reality we are about to face. “Report back anything you find.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see Y/N come into view, but before I can so much as step towards her, she mounts the staircase to her right. Taking a deep breath, I direct Liam and Violet to follow me to the open-air observation point.
Climbing the stairs has my lungs and legs burning, the exertion helping my trepidation to cool slightly, narrowing my focus. Stepping foot onto the observation point, we have more than a clear view of the town of Resson just outside of Navarrian borders. A small, sleeping village that is about to be the scene of a gruesome enemy.
“There’s no way they would empty a strategic outpost just for war games.” Violet mumbles next to me and I huff a breath at her insistence to believe that the cadre aren’t just as nefarious in their ways to eliminate those they deem as any kind of threat.
“Liam, tell me what you can see.” I ignore Violet and get to the entire point of slogging up this tower, though a thought pricks at my mind, and I turn to her.
“When was the last time your precious best friend touched your face?” My question obviously catches her off-guard and she turns to me.
“What?” She stammers.
“Dain. When did he last touch your face?” I ask bluntly, my patience wearing thin. “Did he touch you after I told you about Athebyne?”
The reality of everything begins crashing into me as a booming voice calls out. “We found the directive.”
Garrick and Imogen kick up their pace and, in an instant, he’s handing me a missive scrawled with my name.
“That’s Colonel Aetos’ handwriting.” Violet confirms as Garrick takes a step back. I tear the seal and the panic that seizes me is immense.
“This isn’t a war game. This is war and we’ve been handed our sentence.” My voice is even, though panic and fury are coursing through my veins.
Garrick takes the missive from my hands and begins to read the words himself. His muttered curse is telling to everyone around us and then he reads the words aloud giving voice to the anxiety crawling up my spine.
“We either abandon Resson or abandon command of fourth wing.” He states, looking up directly at me.
“No, not we. Me. This is a test meant for me.” Letting the resignation course through me, the weight of my decisions pressing in on every side, I’m brought out of my thoughts as an explosion booms and Liam gasps.
“Those were the gates of the village, and the fliers were right. There are four venin headed into the town now. There’s one that seems to be leading, creepy red veins and eyes that could steal your soul, with a large staff.” The minute he finishes speaking, everyone flies to the wall of the turret and strains to look at the enemy looming down on the town.
“There’s nothing to see down there.” Bodhi complains while leaning over the wall, far too far for comfort.
Liam pulls him back to the ground before replying. “Yes, there is and they’re coming for Resson.”
“They are. You should all take your riot and fly as fast as you can out of here.” Syrena says as she comes up next to the group. “We can see that your cadre already evacuated the outpost.”
“You don’t want us to fight?” Garrick asks, surprise on his face.
“No, you’re not ready. How many of you have even seen combat, let alone battle venin. Two is more than enough to decimate everything and everyone down there. Four of them will leave nothing and no one behind.” Syrena’s face hardens as she continues to explain the truth of the situation we find ourselves in. “Take your riot and get out of here as fast as you can.”
Before I can form words, she’s heading back down the turret and back towards her drift. I close my eyes, letting my options settle in my mind.
‘I am with you. We will not leave those who cannot defend themselves. I have never turned from a fight, and I will not start today.’ Sgaeyl confirms, solidifying the decision I’d already made.
Turning back to everyone, I look at each of them and can’t help the way my chest clenches at the thought of putting them all in danger. As much as I want to keep each and every one of these people safe, I know that is not the world we were born to.
"I refuse to leave those who cannot defend themselves. Though I won’t command any of you to join me. I’ve already made decisions for you by forcing you to join the quadrant and fight for your life there. I will not take your decision away from you now.” My words are firm as I continue to parse over our group, more than aware we are still missing one person.
‘The Devoted One is with you as well. Her and Dhioch are going to sweep the perimeter once we launch.’ Sgaeyl confirms as I continue to wait for the decisions of those around me. The confirmation does nothing to calm my thoughts or emotions, putting her in harm’s way is the last thing I want to do.
Garrick is then the first to move, his hand clasped hard on my shoulder. “In it till the end, remember? I’m not changing my mind now.” His hand squeezes hard on my shoulder and I can see the determination shining in his eyes.
“We’ve been the defenseless ones. You shouldered that responsibility for us, cousin, now it is time to repay you and those who cannot defend themselves.” Bodhi responds as he comes up to flank my left side.
Liam and Imogen follow suit. It isn’t long before Eya, Cirian, Masen, and Soleil also join, until the last person standing in front of me is Sorrengail.
“I know what it’s like to be vulnerable. Now I have the power to fight, and I will not waste it.” Violet states and I nod my head in acknowledgement.
As Violet goes on to recount details of the venin from her memories of the book of fables, Liam gives a detailed report of the venin whereabouts, and I analyze the skills we have at our fingertips with those present. A tiny voice at the back of my mind whispers that someone with more battle experience, more strategic knowledge should be making these calls, but I squash it as soon as it rises because there is no time to doubt.
Soon enough, directives have been delivered, and each rider is descending the staircase heading to their respective dragons. My mind wants to spiral, but I lock down every single thing that isn’t related to the battle we’re facing.
I cannot let my focus be stolen.
“What about Y/N?” Bodhi asks as he begins to walk towards Cuir.
I give him a tight sad smile before replying. “She’s with us. Just like we always thought she would be.”
The smile he returns is rueful, with just a hint of mischief. “I always told you she was special Xaden. Now you just have to survive so you can grovel.”
I roll my eyes at him before running up Sgaeyl’s leg and mounting. Searching for copper scales, I’m disappointed to find them already floating above us. The minute before we launch a screech I’ve never heard before tears through the air and all heads turn to see a grey form in the distance.
“That’s a wyvern! There are two legs, not four.” Violet calls out and everyone’s gaze tears back to the sky and we all watch as blue fire spits from its mouth.
“Now that we are all aware of the variables, anyone want to fly for Eltuval?” I ask over the rising panic from the village. Looking to the left and right no one confirms they want to change their minds. “Then get as many people to safety as you can and remember only use the alloyed blade to fight the venin.”
Without hesitating the sky begins to rush up as Sgaeyl launches and races to get a higher vantage. The city below us is burning, smoke and ash billowing in the skies. Plumes of smoke in colors I’ve never seen swirl with a ferocity of magic. The smell holding a foul odor unlike dragon fire.
Civilians scream as they try to find cover, running left and right looking for anything sturdy enough to hide in. Chaos is a living breathing thing as we all descend trying to find the best location to get everyone to safety.
Devastation already rules throughout the town, bodies of the fallen strewn about, mothers crying over their children holding their limp bodies with desperation, and children slumped over their mothers’ lifeless forms. Nothing we experience at Basgiath could possibly prepare you for the scene that has begun to unfold.
‘Soleil and Laim are on the ground evacuating townspeople to a mine.’ Sgaeyl confirms as we fly directly into the path of an oncoming wyvern. The gleaming teeth barred in our direction dripping with scarlet blood only adding to the menace of the beast. Sgaeyl banks quickly and in the blink of an eye tears through the neck of the grey beast, blood now dripping down her maw in the same menacing way.
‘Good, let’s get to the edge of town and clear what we can. It seems there is something they are looking for near the clock tower.’ My voice is firm, and my focus locked on getting as many innocent people to safety as we can.
Heading to the outskirts of the town, the flash of Dhioch’s scales fly underneath Sgaeyl and my breath catches when I realize there’s no rider.
‘Stop your worry. The Devoted One is evacuating a child that was separated from their parents.’ Sgaeyl calls as we continue our course to the edge of town. I take a deep breath, letting the knowledge calm my unease.
Stones topple and crumble as we make it to the walls of the village, looking down, I see a venin heading straight for a group of civilians. Robes billowing as they stride with a manic gleam in their terrifying scarlet eyes. Rolling from Sgaeyl’s back, I land in front of the frightened group and grab an alloyed dagger strapped at my hip.
“Ah, a rider, always so reckless. Always trying to play the hero.” The rasp of a voice grates on my ears, nails to the chalkboard of my mind. I let the shadows coil around my feet, threatening and taunting, coiling them towards the venin as he stands there as if analyzing my power.
Before I can register, the sound of rock crumbling has gaze focusing on the people behind me. “Let’s see if those shadows can save them.” The venin taunts as he hurtles a large stone towards a group of children.
Raising my hands, shadows lash out and drag the rock backwards hurtling it back into the wall.
“Shadows.” He sneers in contemplation. “My sage will be so proud once you join the fold.” My eyes flash at his words.
“I can guarantee I will die before I join your ranks.” I spit back and hoist the blade in my hand to strike. My focus is broken again when two roars sound simultaneously.
‘Xaden! Deigh is dying! Liam needs you!’ Violet’s voice pierces through my mind and my focus turns. My grip tightens but turning back to my target, find him gone. Rounding on the civilians, I alert them to where the rest of their townsfolk are hunkering down and call for Sgaeyl.
‘Tell me it’s not too late. Tell me we can save Deigh and Liam.’ The pause that follows tells me everything I need to know as we fly as fast as we can to where I can see Tairn hovering over two small forms.
All at once the weight of everything I’m losing begins crashing down around me. The cost of battle. The cost of my own decisions.
Liam.
The best of us. The one who always brought sunshine and smiles. The one person who always knew when to push my buttons. The person who brought me back from the brink. The one who always saw through my facades. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother. Loyal to a fault. Wood shavings following him everywhere. Laughter and warmth emanating from every pore. He’s dying and there is nothing I can do to fix it.
“Liam.” His name feels like lead in my mouth as I crash down next to Violet. Looking up at her, tears flowing down her cheeks, it takes every ounce of control still within me not to break apart.
“Take me to Deigh.” Liam whispers and brings my focus back down to him.
“Of course, Brother.” The words almost lodge in my throat, but I choke them out as I get to my feet and lift him in my arms. The weight of him dragging me down as the truth of the moment begins to pull at every ounce of my shattered heart.
“It shouldn’t be you.” The words rend from me in a whisper. I just can’t control the anguish that is rushing through me in a torrent of uncontrollable emotion. “It should’ve never been you.”
“I made my choice, brother.” Liam chokes out as he brings his eyes to mine, laying him down next to the broken body of Deigh. The injustice at the situation flies like fury through my mind, he’s here, whole and unharmed, and yet we are losing him. Losing the sunshine to my clouds of our found family. I try to drag my mind from the pain of our reality, but I’m lost to the oblivion of grief.
It’s Liam’s soft words that brings my focus back. “I want you to promise me something.”
“Anything.” My response so quiet I can barely hear it in my own ears.
“Promise me you’ll find happiness with Y/N.” Liam whispers as his breathing begins to slow. “You deserve to be happy Xaden, and everyone knows that she’s it for you. And take care of Violet and Sloane too. They all need you, Xaden.”
The tears snake down my cheeks unbidden now. I can’t hold the emotion in any longer. Liam never questioned his loyalty to me, never once doubted my orders, and is dying because of my decisions. Yet his concern isn’t for himself. It’s for everyone around him and their chances at happiness.
“I promise I will try my hardest to find that happiness, but it won’t be the same without you.” It’s impossible to keep the tide of tears away. Another person that means the world to me being ripped away. Another burden of grief falling into the chasm that won’t seem to fill.
“You are the best of us, brother and you deserve so much more than this.” The words are choked from my throat as I squeeze Liam’s hand brining my forehead to his. A sad smile curls across his lips as a sharp screech tears through the air.
“I love you brother.” As soon as the words leave my lips, Liam’s head rolls to the side and his eyes slide shut. I let my head drop and a rough, unfiltered scream rips through my lungs. Every single ounce of anguish, fear, sorrow, and hatred rolled up into a sound that breaks even my own heart. Shadows tear from my body filling the field around us in a shock of darkness before I reign them in, the sounds of the battle coming back into focus.
They killed Liam. They will all die.
The feeling of vengeance coursing through me as I find myself back at Violet’s side. As soon as I arrive, we both look up to see two wyverns with venin on their backs. An entire horde of wyvern careening quickly towards those we are trying so desperately to save.
“Go.” I command as she stands, determination etched on every line of her face. “You’ll have to be the one to take the venin down. I’ll cover you for as long as I can.”
Before she can reply, I let the shadows absorb the valley and plant my feet. My mind racing at the losses we’ve faced already, and we haven’t even killed half of the venin here.
Violet’s emotions bleed through the bond as she focuses on revenge, the acrid tang coating every pore. Standing here concentrating on holding back the wyvern, I let her emotions roll through me. The taste of death for these creatures who have taken so much a sweet balm to the bitter taste of loss.
I watch those in battle around me, trying desperately to find a way to help them all. My focus is suddenly broken as I feel Violet’s shock and pain flare. Looking up, I can see her on Tairn’s back facing off with a female venin.
Splitting my power, I let the shadows cover Tairn’s back.
‘Use your advantage.’ I send to her, directing her to take the death blow. The minute I see the venin fall from Tairn’s back, I drop the shadows from them and let them melt back into covering the valley.
‘You have to drop the shadows. I have a plan.’ Violet sends through the bond as Tairn flies towards the remaining wyvern.
‘I can’t it’s the only thing keeping those fuckers out.’ I bite back, but there’s no mistaking the waver in my voice. Fire has begun to lick at my veins from the amount of power that I’m trying to maintain, but I won’t let myself falter.
I can’t.
‘If you have a single ounce of trust in me, you’ll drop them. Now!’ Violet shoots back and I’m faltering straining to keep my power in check, so I know this is happening one way or another.
The minute they drop, I’m sprinting. My body feels like lead between the emotions and exertions of the day, but I can’t stop. I won’t. There’s no room to falter, no space for hesitation. I only concentrate on pumping the air in and out of my lungs as I continue my run.
Sgaeyl is there waiting, and I mount faster than I ever have in my life as we fly towards Tairn and Violet. I know that I must keep her alive if I’m going to keep my promise to Liam. Keep the promise to myself.
‘I’ll kill one and you take the other. Once they are dead, the wyvern will fall.’ Violet’s voice slices through my focus and I don’t miss the way it’s laced with pain.
Trailing behind Tairn, I suddenly feel myself caught in a vortex that feels both foreign and familiar. Time seems to stand still as I watch in horror hoping that we aren’t about to meet an unfortunate end. A band seems to snap and the battle resumes, the crackle of white-hot energy zings around us and a bolt flies from the sky and strikes the venin in a direct hit.
My gaze is stolen from the scene as I watch another wyvern begin a direct path to Tairn, I let shadows fly forming a lasso around the venin and pull it towards me with all the force I can muster. The venin bears down on my hand, and directly onto the alloyed blade in my outstretched arm.
As soon as I look back towards Tairn, the world seems to stop and my heart leaps into my throat as Violet’s body falls from his back.
“Violet!” I scream and Sgaeyl uses every ounce of energy she has left to reach her falling body. Cutting through the sky, my hands grasping her pommel with every ounce of strength I have left, I can’t help but think that we aren’t going to make it. We aren’t close enough and Violet is falling too fast.
Before I can overthink it again, I watch as a flash of gold is suddenly in front of us, that same vortex coming and breaking again. Andarna’s appearance helps to stop Violet’s rapid descent until Sgaeyl is underneath her. Andarna rolls slightly and Violet falls into my arms, her unconscious form lulling against my chest.
‘Tell everyone to meet by the gates.’ I tell Sgaeyl as she begins her descent to the ground.
I dismount and take the time to look for the wound that caused Violet to fall. The breath leaves my lungs when I see there is a blade sticking out of her side. But it isn’t the blade that concerns me, it’s the blood flowing from the wound. As I pull my hand away, there is no mistaking that everything about this wound is wrong.
Her blood is black.
Fuck.
Footsteps rush to where we are, and I look up into battle scared faces and exhaustion. I try to take in everyone around me, but my mind is racing a thousand miles a minute trying to decide the best action to take. It’s once my gaze locks on Garrick that I make my decision.
“You need to take her to Riorson House. You need to get her to Brennan. Quickly.” I say to him, although its more of an order than a request.
“Are you really sure that’s the best idea?” Garrick questions, though his intentions may be good, I don’t have time for hesitation.
“It’s the only idea. We need a few days to regroup and make decisions. She wanted to fight, so now she gets to keep the secrets just like we do.” I say as I stand and lift Violet’s limp body.
Garrick doesn’t question anymore as he shoulders Violet’s body from me. In the blink of an eye both he and Chradh are gone and the rest of us are left to pick up the remaining pieces.
‘She better survive this, Wingleader.’ Tairn’s voice pours through my mind and there’s no hiding the menace behind the words.
The sound of wings beat, and I know that Tairn has taken flight in the direction of his injured rider. Tairn can be as angry as he wants and question all my choices, as long as she survives. Spinning on my heels, I’m met with Sgaeyl’s snout and her golden stare.
Brows furrowing, apprehension begins to curl in my chest at her continued stare. Something in her eyes causes the dread in my chest to spike again.
‘What?’ I send to her, though she doesn’t respond at first.
‘You should take care of your brother.’ The thought hits me in the chest as a fresh wave of grief tumbles over me. It’s that grief and reminder that causes my gaze to begin searching.
Scanning over every single face gathered around me, taking in every single wound, smear of blood, and eyes full of pain an exhaustion. However, my heart stops when I realize that one pair of eyes is missing. Turning I let myself glance over every dragon that stands behind Sgaeyl and my breath catches in my throat.
Dhioch stands staring at me. Her golden eyes are shining with anger, the blaze so hot I’m not sure how she hasn’t scorched me yet. Whipping back around, I nearly fall as I look over those gathered again. I don’t know how many times I look to each person before the reality begins filtering in, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.
“Y/N.” Her name leaves my lips in a whisper so low I’m not sure anyone even heard me. Without thinking, I let my shadows roam free, asking them to find her, to search every single inch of the village around us.
Seconds tick by, then minutes. I don’t know how long I let them search but by the time every inch of the village has been rummaged through several times over, my emotions are so high I’m uncertain as to how I’m standing. Tracing the devastation of the town, it barely compares yo the feeling growing in my own chest.
I can feel how pale my face has gone. Cold sweat beading at my forehead and running down my clothed back. My heart in my throat as they continue to roam, my heartrate beating a staccato in my chest, daring to break free the longer they search with no results.
“Xaden.” Bodhi steps next to me, concern lacing his features. “What’s going on?”
I turn and look at him, but my focus is so scattered, I feel like I’m looking through him.
“She’s gone.” The words leave my mouth in a choke, as if my mouth can barely string the words together. Any semblance left of my world shattering with the realization.
Bodhi glances around, his brows furrowing as he tries to untangle what exactly I’m trying to say. I watch as realization finally dawns on his face and his brows rise in shock.
“She’s gone?” He repeats, but as a question. I nod slightly as I turn back to look at Dhioch.
‘Is that what you were trying to tell me, Sgaeyl?’ The words flow through my mental bond so low, I’m unsure if I really thought them.
As soon as I finish the thought, Sgaeyl brings her snout to me and gives me a gentle nudge. That one movement causes the dam to break. The shadows that I had tight control on leave in the second torrent of the day and my eyes begin to fill with tears as I raise my face to the ashen sky.
Taking measured steps, I walk to the crumbling outer walls of the town. Holding the tears at bay proves the only thing I can control until I find myself sinking to my knees next to boulders that used to stand proud and firm in protection of the decimated village. As soon as my knees hit the dirt and jagged rocks, the flood finally breaks, uncontrollable sobs wracking my body.
Trembling, I can’t stop the emotions as they barrel through me. Failure is an anvil on my chest at my inability to save those who deserved to live, and the crushing realization that the woman I love is gone taking my breath.
Air. There’s absolutely no air.
Nothing I do will pull the breath back into my lungs. My soul is crushed from the weight of Soleil and Liam’s deaths, Violet being hurt, and now realizing that the one thing I was fighting for is gone.
‘You are stronger than this, Xaden. You cannot let them win. Falling here will not bring her back to you.’ Sgaeyl knows that pretty words won’t bring me back from the brink. Her voice is stern and unwavering, a solid command to bring me back to myself.
‘There isn’t any way for you to find her? What if she’s hurt? Does Dhioch know if she’s safe? She wasn’t taken, was she?’ The barrage of questions tumbles through my scattered mind trying to grasp and claw at any single piece of information, at any way that this isn’t real.
‘Dhioch won’t give me details, but she does confirm that she can no longer feel their bond.’ Sgaeyl’s voice carries an undercurrent of concern, and the information causes my mind to blank and finally focus.
As air begins to fill my lungs again, my mind sharpens the fog of grief lifting slightly. ‘What do you mean she can’t feel their bond? How can Dhioch know she’s alive if she can’t feel her.’
I refuse to bring voice to the one question that truly plagues my mind. If she can’t feel a bond than certainly, she has to be -.
NO.
I refuse.
I will not let this be the end.
I will not let myself even think of the possibility of that outcome.
The emptiness I felt just moments ago is now filled with rage. How can she be gone? How can her bond to her dragon be breached? What was she thinking?
At least the rage is a comfort, something familiar. I let the feeling wrap around me, steeling me from the turbulent emotions of grief and sorrow. I will not drown. I will find her and bring her back. I won’t stop until she’s by my side again.
Every single step back to the group shores my resolve. By the time I reach them, my usual stoic mask is back in place, and I refuse to let any of them see me break. If I break, it means I’ve failed, and I will not accept failure. Not in this.
“Let’s go. It’s time to take some time at home.” I tell the group and mount Sgaeyl without turning around.
The two hours of flight does nothing to calm the turbulence I’ve caged in my body. Trying to hold every single piece of myself in place proves to be more difficult than I expected. The shards of my heart threatening to break apart at any moment.
‘Will Dhioch tell you anything?’ My mind can only handle one thought. Where did she go and how do I find her?
‘Dhioch is not willing to talk now. I will try my best to get something, but I can’t promise you anything Xaden.’ My name. She never calls me that. At least not unless she’s trying to convince me not to falter. Her tone is also quieter than normal. All these things combined have my chest tightening.
‘Can you at least let Dhioch know that I’m sorry? Sorry for all the ways I’ve failed her rider. That I’ll do anything in my power to get her back.’
‘Of course you will.’ The feminine voice that slices through my mind is sharp and causes my head to swivel, looking directly into Dhioch’s eyes. No ounce of sympathy in the words, only command. ‘If you don’t, I will cut your life short. Your apology will be accepted when you find my rider.’
I don’t cower from the brown’s gaze, if anything I revel in the challenge. Fire and determination lick through my veins. I need someone besides just myself in Y/N’s corner, fighting for her and only her.
‘I promise you, Dhioch. I will return her to you. I will have her back in my arms again.’ The spark of defiance reverberating through my chest. I will utilize every single weapon in my arsenal, until I exhaust each and every one.
Soon enough familiar cliffs that line Aretia come into focus, the jagged edges reminding me of what’s left of my heart, and I let myself breathe. The first full breath I’ve had since the sirens rang out at Basgiath. Breathing through the pain and grief, the constant pull of darkness that wants to bring me down. People are depending on me and there’s a woman that I need to find, and I won’t be able to do that if I let myself drown.
As we descend, two figures come into sharp focus as we descend near the large wooden doors of Riorson House. I snort as the worried face of Garrick and the furious face of Brennan Sorrengail come into clear focus. Rolling my shoulders, I let myself prepare for the fight I know that I’m about to have with one of the most infuriating people on the Assembly.
Dropping from Sgaeyl, I stride with purpose straight for the blazing amber eyes that hold nothing but judgment.
“What the fuck were you thinking Riorson?” Ire building, I push past him refusing to answer.
As soon as I pass the threshold, I let the familiar smell wrap around me the comforting warmth of centuries old stone, worn rugs, and spices that flow from the kitchens. Every single breath begins to calm the storm that has been raging and tearing, whipping and breaking against every wall I had built. Without turning around I let my first words since leaving Resson spill from my mouth.
“Is Violet alright?” It takes every effort to keep my voice even, to not let Brennan know how much my inability to keep her safe is dragging at me.
Brennan walks up to my side and then turns in front of me, his eyes still blazing with fury. “I was able to stop the poison from spreading, but only time will tell if there are any aftereffects.”
“What were you thinking?” Brennan continues as he tries to stand tall and defiant against me.
“What was I thinking?” My patience hanging by a thread. “I was thinking we were sent to die, and I wasn’t going down without a fight. That this entire situation was planned by the cadre at Basgiath and left me no choice, not really.”
“That’s no reason to battle venin underprepared.” Brennan challenges.
“I did what I could. I made decisions that will haunt me for the rest of my life.” My voice continues to get louder as the thread on my self-control snaps. “My friend is dead because of my decision. My brother is dead because of my decision. The girl whose life is tethered to mine was poisoned because of my decision. And the woman I love is gone because of my decision.”
Fists clenched at my sides, the bite of my nails digging into my palms keeping me together. “You sit here behind the Assembly, in the safety of Riorson House and dare challenge me on my decision? I was given an impossible choice. I let every single person decide. Now I – as their commander – get to suffer the consequences of my actions. If you want to be angry, fine, but that leaves me only one thing to say.”
“Fuck. You.” With that I push past Brennan and stride straight to the one place in this fortress of a house that I can finally breathe.
Prowling up the battered stairs, each one worn smooth from the centuries of footsteps that traipsed them before me, I climb to the highest point. As soon as I reach the familiar opening, I step onto the crenellations of the roof and let the darkness of the night consume me.
A huff leaves my lips as I remember sitting in a similar spot only three days ago. Sitting on the parapet and trying to escape the emotions of the day. Now on the roof of Riorson House, I try to push past the emotions that loom over me.
How does someone pull themselves from the depth of grief? I can’t even save myself, how am I going to save everyone else? Is my life and happiness always going to be the cost of my duty?
Questions rolling through my mind, I don’t stop the tide. I let the grief trample my heart, the boulder crushing my chest. Let the regret steal my breath from my lungs. Let the anguish slide down my cheeks in torrents of tears. Let the desperation flow, my blood feeling like sludge in my veins. Let the resentment fill the fire in my eyes, the burn mixing with the tears.
I allow myself to feel everything, to drown in the tsunami of grief that’s left me empty. Even through the hollow emptiness, I promise myself that I will only rise stronger tomorrow.
warnings: heavily implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), smut, oral fem!receiving, nervous but enthusiastically consenting reader
You’d tried to calm your nerves but they couldn’t be helped.
You’re anxious about everything, all of it. What he wants you to do, what he’s expecting you do, whether it’ll hurt, whether you’re ready.
You think you trust Bruce, but you also know that these things are different for men and women. You don’t necessarily expect that he’ll have a mind for what you’ll need, but honestly, neither do you. You don’t know what to do to make this easier for yourself—you don’t know what to do at all.
You bought the lingerie, you’ve got it on under your clothes and it feels like a costume. You can’t tell if that aids or worsens the anxiety.
You’re fidgeting with the hem of your skirt and you wish you could quit it, you’re radiating enough nervous energy as it is, you don’t need to be sending him visual cues on top of it.
Bruce holds your free hand in his as he guides you through the manor, you think it’s a different section than you’ve seen before. His hand engulfs yours unfairly as he leads, but the touch of his skin is so warm and inviting that you can’t tell if your hand is still shaking under it. If it is, he pretends not to notice.
He guides you up the stairs and into a corridor and then another before you arrive at a set of double doors. You’ve never seen double doors on the inside of a house before.
He lets you in ahead of him, and you have a distinct thought that you’re glad he can’t see the look of awe on your face as you walk in. His bedroom has an entire living room inside of it, and altogether it’s bigger than your whole apartment. A maroon couch and matching chairs surround a grand fireplace at the front of the room and the resulting glow from the active embers has the area shrouded in a warm light ahead of the shadows filling the rest.
You glance past the seating at his bed; large and proud. It’s definitely bigger than a king sized, with an overhead canopy and streams of dark burgundy curtains draping down from the corners. There’s another set of closed double doors past the bed, you imagine leading to the bathroom.
The end of the room displays a large window seat that looks like it’s never been used, and vast tinted windows. You look up to find the ceiling higher than you’ve ever seen in a bedroom with a very expensive chandelier hanging over it all.
He takes your arm, steering you out of your wonderment and leads you towards the couch rather than the bed, gesturing for you to sit down with him. You do, quietly glad when he positions himself so that you’re close to each other but not pressed right up against you. He’s able to relax his body more than you’re able to fake it on yourself, and you think your thoughts must be vibrating out of you by now.
One hand comes to rest on your thigh as his other nudges your cheek towards him. “Hey, nothing’s happening right now. No need to be nervous.”
You nod blankly, but your thoughts are running wild with everything that you very much are nervous about.
He takes your hand in his, rubbing circles with his thumb.
“You’ve got to relax,” he coos, “Remember what I said?”
You take a breath, “You’re not going to throw me in the deep end.”
“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Just wanna make you feel good, right?”
You nod, easing your posture.
He looks you in the eye, “You gonna let me?”
You hum, nodding again.
“Good girl,” he purrs, pulling away.
You quickly find that the distance is not at all what you want, and you decide to push forward—as forward as you can—sitting up again to peel your jacket off. He watches you move with a look in his eyes, you take it for intrigue but it may just as well be something akin to pride. Pride in you? He’s openly flirted, kissed you, and straight up propositioned you for sex—but sure, he’s proud of you for taking your jacket off.
Your nerves transition into insecurity before you can catch them, and you’re starting to feel a little stupid, like a child playing pretend.
You watch tentatively as he tilts his head at you, running his own assessments of your actions.
“Will you come sit on my lap?” he asks you after a moment.
You suddenly become acutely aware of the amount of air in your lungs. This feels like a big request and you’re not even sure how to take his meaning. Does he want you to sit sideways? Your back to his front? Or fully straddle him?
He wants whatever you want, he’d said. What do you want?
You glance down at his thighs, covered by fabric more expensive than you can imagine. Positive confirmation rings through your head immediately, willing you to push yourself forward a little more.
You reposition yourself over him, straddling his lap in spite of your nerves.
Again, he looks pleased. Happy even. One of his hands comes to stroke soothing patterns across your lower back, the other resting on your waist.
He makes sure to catch your gaze, “You’ll tell me if you want to stop.”
He follows when your eyes stray, “Yes?”
“Yes.”
He places a tender kiss on your cheekbone, “How did shopping go?”
“Um, good. It was good. One of the sales girls helped me,” your breath is shaky as he kisses your jawline.
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
“I, uh, I just went to this little boutique up on third street,” he places another kiss on the column of your throat as you talk. “Um, it took longer than I thought it would. There were so many choices.”
His hands come up to soothe over your ribs, pulling you a little closer as they do. He hums for you to keep talking, his kisses continuing to lower until they’re down to your collarbone, though they remain relatively chaste.
“I—I didn’t really know what to look for,” you admit, breath shaky as you exhale.
“But you like it?”
“Yeah, I—I do.”
He hums, smiling against your skin. His fingers inch under the seam of your shirt, caressing your waist. “Can I take this off?”
You nod timidly, trying not to seem so on edge with anticipation. You’re not confident that he can’t see right through you.
He presses another chaste kiss to your neck upon receival of the permission, and your shirt begins to come off slowly, his hands skimming every new bit of skin revealed. As he pulls it over your head, he glances down at the baby pink bralette you’d picked out for yourself.
He groans quietly as he takes in the sight, “Oh, pretty girl. Beautiful girl,” He noses at your chest, leaving little kisses where his lips make contact with your skin, “Look at you. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Your stomach flutters as his hair tickles your cheek. His hands roam up your sides, stopping to stroke placid circles along the sides of your breasts.
His touch makes its way around your back, expertly undoing your bra clasp without a second thought. Your bra hangs forward a bit off your shoulders, but he leaves the work of entirely removing it to you. And you do, with more confidence than you’d imagined yourself mustering.
He immediately shows his appreciation, kissing and caressing your chest with lover-like admiration. Your head falls back involuntarily as he noses at your soft skin.
He’s breathing heavy when he pulls back, humming low and deep before lifting you up off his lap to stand. The sudden shift has you a bit thrown off, working to catch up as he kneels down in front of you and repeats his earlier process with your skirt—kissing your thighs and tugging the fabric down bit by bit.
When it’s discarded on the floor you stand only left in your underwear, the lace practically illuminated against your skin.
He looks up at you from his place on the floor and smiles as he takes in the sight of your body. His hands find your hips as he asks you, “Has anyone ever seen you like this before?”
You hesitate for half a second before answering truthfully.
His smile grows, “No, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s nodding, “Yeah, I know.”
As he rises to stand he scoops you up by the back of your thighs and lifts you in the air with no discernable effort. Now at face level with him, you get a bit bolder and lean in to kiss him. He kisses you back, pleased, beginning to walk the two of you over towards the bed.
He sets you down gently atop the soft mattress, kisses pushing you backwards to lie back on the bed. He scoops your wrists up and leisurely moves your arms up above your head. His grip is benign as he releases one hand in favor of holding your jaw. Your kiss is deep and controlled on his part, but in a way that makes you feel light in the head. You like the cloudy-sensation very much.
After a while, he pulls back to look at you with clouded eyes.
He practically purrs, “You’re such a kind girl. So sweet to everyone, all the time. Will you let me be sweet to you?”
Your breath is shaky as you nod, attempts at hiding your anticipation failing.
He nods back at you with a faux-sympathy across his face. “Let me hear you say it.”
You force air into your lungs, giving you the willpower to speak the words. “Will you touch me? Please?”
The corners of his lips turn up, “Of course, sweet girl.”
He nips at your jaw as his hands travel down, petting the inside of your thighs with a touch so feather light it almost tickles.
Your knee jerks inward towards his hand, your body desperately seeking out more of this new sensation. He obliges, tracing his touch back up, up, up until his hand dips under the lace trim of your panties, skimming over your clit. Your hips flinch back away from him momentarily in surprise, only to press back forward a second later.
He actually laughs at the action, like it’s endearing. You feel a little silly for it, but you’re not given much time to dwell as he persists, brushing against you with a bit more pressure.
He tilts his head, watching your expression carefully with a remarkably pleased look on his own face. “How’s that, sweet girl?”
You nod, beside yourself. “Feels good,” you whimper. “Feels really good..”
You don’t necessarily mean to, but your hips grind up against his touch, your body too mesmerized with the sensation to remember to be embarrassed.
He’s certainly not complaining about it though, his quiet coos encouraging you to chase the feeling.
He lets you grind up against his hand, taking in the needy look on your face with contentment.
“Poor girl,” he tuts. “Just need somebody to take care of you, huh?”
That makes your cheeks burn, but your attention finds itself more concerned with the urge to squeeze your thighs together.
You whine when he pulls his hand back out of your underwear, only for him to stand resolute in his actions.
“Not yet, sweet thing,” he hums, pressing you back down to the bed with a light but firm touch when you try to sit up.
He hushes you gently, murmuring for you to be patient as he shifts his position over you.
He starts to move down your body, leaving kisses in his wake. The sensation of his lips tracing down your stomach has you feeling butterflies.
By the time he reaches your waistline you’re borderline dizzy from the anticipation, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to alleviate the ache.
He pauses there for a moment, torturously, and noses at the seam of your panties. A whine from you has him chuckling and finally moving to where you need him.
He kisses your clit over your underwear and you’re fighting thoughts of embarrassment over how sure you are he can taste how wet you are over the fabric.
It doesn’t seem to be enough for him though, as he tugs your panties down slowly, kissing your thighs as he goes.
Bruce’s hands hold onto your waist as he eats you out, holding you in place with an easy grip.
You squirm against the feel of his tongue and you can’t quite figure out what to do with your hands. You almost wish he’d made you keep them above your head but really you’re not sure you’d be able to keep it together if he had. You’re not sure you’re keeping it together now.
He groans against your pussy, and one of your hands flies to grip his hair without permission from your brain. If you’re being honest with yourself though, your brain isn’t really the one calling the shots anymore.
You gasp when he licks a bold stripe, “Bruce—”
He groans again, briefly breaking away from you. “Oh, say that again.”
You sigh out, “Bruce, please.”
He makes a pleased hum. “Good girl,” he murmurs before diving back in.
He complies with your pleas generously, giving you more. He’s gradual but resolute as he inserts two fingers into you, giving you the time to adjust. But he’d evidently done a very thorough job prepping you for it, you’re so wet that the initial entry doesn’t sting like you’d expected. No, rather the first thing you register is closer to pleasure. A lot closer.
He begins to pump in and out of you at he continues to suck at your clit, and somewhere during you have a distinct thought of “oh this is it.”
You let out a little gasp and for once, you break out of your own head and just relish in the way his fingers curl inside you.
The way your thighs squeeze around him as you come, doesn’t hinder him one bit, only has him applying his ministrations with more intent. It doesn’t take long for the trembling of your body to give way to full on shaking, your body stuttering beneath him.
He continues working at you the entire way through your orgasm, until you’re flinching from overstimulation.
He gives you one more lick before looking up at you with hooded eyes. “Y’taste sweet too, you know that?”
You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks as he starts to move back up to face-level, kissing the high point of your cheekbone.
He pulls down on your bottom lip, your slick wet against your mouth.
You open without question, a clouding urge to please him the only thing running through your mind.
He grumbles a low, pleased sound as you do, moving his hand only to provide room for him to kiss you again.
He sits back up over you and starts unbuttoning his shirt and you realize only now that he’s still fully dressed.
He glances down to his belt as he undoes the buttons.
“Will you help me out, sweet girl?”
You blink a couple times before registering the request, still overwhelmed by how quickly and skillfully he’d made you come.
You struggle a bit to push yourself up into a sitting position, but he supports you by your waist, nipping along your jaw as encouragement.
Your hands shake as you undo the clasp, and while you’re still very much eager, if not moreso, you’re suddenly confronted with the very real possibility that you’re about to have your limits pushed. He ate you out and did a damn good job, stands to reason that he’d want you to return the favor.
So it takes you by surprise when he’s nudging you back against the pillows, removing his pants himself.
He keeps you occupied with an intense kiss as he does, and the distraction so smooth it’s almost like it’s rehearsed.
You follow his lead easily, though surprised by his lack of desire to get his fill too.
He drapes himself over you nicely, his size easily dwarfing you out. He’s quick to block your chin from tilting down, gently bringing your face back up to meet his.
He shakes his head lightly, murmuring, “Don’t worry about that. I got you.”
You are worried about it, but you trust Bruce, you know you do now.
You feel the weight of his cock against your stomach, at this exact moment, feeling like not much more than a daunting task.
“S’alright, sweet girl,” he lulls, brushing your hair back. “Okay?”
As heavy as the simple question is, you don’t need to think about it before you’re nodding and moving your hand to hold onto his bicep.
He peppers kisses all over your face as he starts to push in, effectively starting to distract you from the pain of the stretch. He hushes your whines soothingly and kneads at your waist with confident hands.
Your arms lock around his shoulders on instinct, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to convince yourself he’s almost all the way in, but you know you’ve got aways to go.
He pauses halfway, imploring you to open your eyes so he can check up on you properly.
“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he softly urges.
You will yourself to blink up at him and try to take on the challenge of both him and his gaze. Surely, an impossible task.
But you manage shaky eye contact that occasionally gives way to glancing down at his lips.
It doesn’t feel good yet, but it only makes you more eager to keep going.
“I’m okay,” you nod, taking a breath. “You can keep going.”
He waits to find that reassurance in your eyes before he continues to push in, bestowing you a deep kiss in reward for your bravery.
Once he’s nearly bottomed out he waits a moment, then begins to rock in and out slowly, letting you get used to a starter of the sensation.
He brushes your hair back, weaving through the strands. “There we go,” he coos as you look down between you. “Doing so good.”
Your gasp is louder than they had been before, and closer to a sigh now.
He’s fucking you gently, with a decorum that exceeds what you’d earlier told yourself you were stupid for hoping for.
It doesn’t take long at all for his movement to start to feel really good and your grip around his shoulders comes around to a different kind of intensity.
He noses against your jaw, applying kisses whenever convenient. “‘S that feel good, sweet girl? Hm?”
He hits a particularly deep spot in you immediately after and it makes you borderline squeak. He huffs out a laugh that’s nothing short of affectionate.
“Yeah?”
He then attacks that spot with extra intention, hitting it absolutely expertly every time. He speeds up a little, lips latched onto your neck as he fucks you nice and deep.
He drops a hand down between you and starts rubbing circles onto your clit with a pace that makes you want to scream.
You can’t help the moan you release when he teeths at your neck, clearly aiming to drive you crazy. But damn if he isn’t going about it the right way.
His circles pick up pace and you can be sure you’re leaving nail marks on his back. He seems to only get more encouraged by your sounds, working you closer and closer to the edge with every whimper.
He finally lets you over after a minute of shamelessly relishing in your moans, himself following close after.
He continues moving in and out of you until you’ve both completely finished, slowly coming to a stop.
You get a moment to catch your breath before he pulls out delicately. You don’t even realize he’s moved before he’s got his boxers back on and is halfway to the bathroom.
You’re a little alarmed by the sudden shift in proximity, though you guess that’s the playboy experience, isn’t it? After a second you hear water running and assume he’s taking a shower.
You push yourself to sit up fully, minding your achy thighs, and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You glance at the foot of the bed where your underwear lies, then back over by the couch where the rest of your clothes lay discarded. You briefly contemplate how quickly you can get your clothes back on when the bathroom doors open again.
You glance up at Bruce, dazed, who looks surprised himself to see you sitting up. As he makes his way back to the bed you notice the supplies he has in tow and your brain begins to slowly start turning its gears again.
You don’t realize the glass of water in his hand is for you until he’s pushed it into your palm.
His other hand carries a wet wash cloth that you, again, aren’t able to register the purpose for until it’s in action.
“Drink,” he tells you as he spreads your knees apart gently, wiping away the mess between your legs with a notable amount of compassion for your sensitivity.
You do, gulping a few as he finishes, tossing the rag in a hamper before setting your glass down on the side table.
Your eyes return to the end of the bed and you nearly decide to get up, but he’s still standing so close to you, you’re not sure this is the right time.
You seem caught halfway between decisions now, you know you do. You’d honestly preferred when you thought he’d just ditched you for a shower because at least then this part wouldn’t be so awkward.
He watches you closely as you deliberate and seems to draw a conclusion about your hesitation rather quickly. His brow pinches as he processes, tilting his head at you.
“You’ve got to be joking,” he says, bewildered. “Right?”
“I—” you falter, looking to the couch and back to him again. “No?”
He stares at you for a moment with an expression you can’t define.
“Lay down.”
You don’t have a second to process before he’s climbing back in bed too, pulling you down to lay your head on the pillow.
He pulls the covers over you and splays an arm over your waist, clearly firm in his decision for you to stay.
Your eyes are heavy and his bed is so comfortable, it’s difficult for you to even consider either of you wanting you to leave now.
Maybe you’ll just sleep for a little while, get some of your energy back.
The way he traces soft patterns across your stomach certainly encourages the idea and doesn’t give you much power to resist.
You let your eyes flutter shut to the feather-light touch and listen to the steady deepness of his breaths.
Well, this isn’t so bad either.
🐲 reblogging is an ancient art form, only the strong may master it 🐲
BRUCE was sprawled out on his bed, black sheets barely covering his naked body, his bulky thigh nudging its way out under and out of them when it got too hot. He kept his hand behind his head, half-lidded eyes never leaving your form as he watched you carefully.
“Again.”
You stood near his side of the bed, one leg propped up on it, naked except for one of Bruce's white button up shirts, the upper four buttons undone, courtesy of yours truly (Bruce Wayne). Your hand follows the skin of your leg from your calves, to your knees up, up to your thigh where your fingers hook under your simple sheer tights. Slowly, you begin to pull them down your leg, and Bruce's eyes follow the movement religiously. His lips part when your skin reappears under the delicate barrier, the act almost hypnotizing.
Bruce inhales sharply when your whole leg gets exposed to him, and his eyes immediately trail up to your face, smiling lazily, a faint dimple showing “Again,”
You roll your eyes playfully, biting back a smile, and yet you do as he says, somehow also getting worked up over this. You stare unabashedly at his chest, the way it rises and falls with each breath. Your eyes travel lower, down to his happy trail, and Bruce, ever so observant, notices this, and readjusts his hips slightly, making the sheet shift the slightest bit. When your eyes snap up to his, he raises his eyebrow in challenge. You huff, fingers beginning to work again, pulling the tights up your leg this time, slowly though, never rushing this.
But you still wanted to fuck with him a little. So when you pull the tights just past your knee you stop completely and watch in amusement as Bruce’s gaze snaps up to yours immediately, eyes narrowing playfully, “That was the best part, and you ruined it,” he complained in a gruff voice, and you grinned, “I know.”
He clicks his tongue as he scooted closer to the edge of the bed, skimming his fingers over your skin, barely touching you as he went to resume your work, “I'll just have to do it for you then,” his fingers pull the tights up your pretty thigh, and he bites his lip when his work is done, hands now properly touching your skin over your tights, running them up and down your thigh appreciatively.
“You’re insatiable.” you say as you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his head back the slightest bit, and Bruce groans lowly from the tug, leaning down to press a kiss against your thigh. He then looks up at you innocently, humming as if he was agreeing with you.
Suddenly his hand wraps around your waist, and he tugs you closer, and you gasp when you fall on his lap, tights long forgotten as he studies your face, grabbing your ass in both hands and lifting you up so you could prop your knees on either side of him, “I can't help it.” he confessed, before claiming your lips with his.
Your hand came up to caress his cheek, your fingers playing with the ends of his hair as you kiss him back. Somehow the sheet was still bunched around his waist, covering his hard cock, and yet you wasted no time and rolled your hips against him. Bruce moans against your lips, his hold on you tightening. His hands knead the skin of your ass, as he pulls away and starts pressing kisses down your jaw. You reward him with another roll of your hips, your pussy meeting his cock through the fabric, and he raises his hips the slightest bit, nudging your clit in the process. He hisses when you whimper, his hands now trailing up your bare back under your (his) shirt. “Sweet girl..”
Bruce’s kisses turn more filthy, now pressing open-mouthed kisses on your lips, panting against your mouth for just a second as he pulls away, and your tongue darts out to lick a line across his lips. His eyes turn dark, “Let me fuck you again.” he whispers against your lips, hand coming up to hold your face, thumb and pointer finger digging into each of your cheeks softly.
“I think you can do better than that.” You bite your lip when he rolls his eyes quickly, a smile tugging his lips up, “I can feel you dripping through the sheets, and you want me to beg?” he huffs out a chuckle, and you gasp in faux offense. You turn to look away from him teasingly but he tilts your head back to him with a tut.
You shake off his hold on your face, and in turn take both his cheeks in your palms, eyes dancing across his. Rubbing your thumb over his bottom lip, you lean in to whisper against his ear, “Want to fuck me in them?”
Satisfaction pools inside your belly when you see his adam's apple bob as he swallows harshly, and he groans, dropping his head to bite down at your shoulder teasingly. “Yes. Please.”
You grin, moving to stand up, not before Bruce swats your ass playfully. You shoot him an unconvincing glare, and he just shrugs, leaning back with his palms supporting his weight, eyes never trailing up and down your form. “Don't rip them this time.”
Bruce smiles. “I won't.”
Later, when you find yourself panting against the floor-to-ceiling window of his room, the glass foggy as you press your cheek against it to look at Bruce over your shoulder, whimpering when he pulls out of you, his hand pulling the cheek of your ass taut to watch his cum drip out of your pussy, your eyes catch sight of your ripped tights, your pussy and most of your ass free from the material in a perfect circle. You swallow down your whimper when he shoves two fingers inside your puffy cunt, pushing his cum back inside you, “You lied,” you somehow manage to utter.
Bruce's eyes snap up to yours, his eyebrows furrowing momentarily, sweat dripping down his temple, but then he notices. Sees where you're looking. His eyes glint devilishly, and he gives you the most shit eating grin you've ever seen., “Guess I did.”
warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part
You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.
The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the gala rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.
Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.
Should you stand up?
No, he’s rich, not royalty.
You are in his house though—
He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.
You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”
“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed.
“Arthur Mullins.”
He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”
You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.
You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.
There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”
“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.
He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”
“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.
He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.
Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”
“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”
“I don’t know anybody here.”
He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”
You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”
He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”
Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.
You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”
“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”
You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”
“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”
You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”
“Bruce.”
“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.
He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.
You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”
He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”
You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.
If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.
He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”
It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.
You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget.
A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.
You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.
He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”
It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?”
You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.
You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”
He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”
You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”
He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”
You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”
“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”
He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.
You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”
He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”
“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is.
He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.
It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”
You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.
He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”
You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.
Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways.
The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.
You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty.
“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”
Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”
You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”
He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”
You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options.
“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.
“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”
“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”
He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”
A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path.
Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.
As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.
Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”
“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”
He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.
“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”
He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”
Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”
“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.
“I mean, of course, but it—”
He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”
Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit.
You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”
“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.
You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”
His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.
He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.
Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?
And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?
You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.
As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.
“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for.
You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”
He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”
You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.
A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk.
“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.
“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room.
This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?”
The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce.
You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.
“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.
A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received.
Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”
Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”
The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”
He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating computers.”
You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.
“What exactly is a self-operating computer?”
Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased.
He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”
Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”
“And so you have.”
“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.
“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”
The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.
“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”
“Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”
His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”
You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”
His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”
“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”
He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”
“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.
He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”
You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”
He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.
“I think we should go,” he says lower.
You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.”
He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.”
He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”
You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”
He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected.
“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.
He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”
You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”
He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”
You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”
“Why did you show up last weekend?”
You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”
He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”
For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.
“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.
His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.”
You shrug, “A day in the life,”
He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.
“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.
Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.
It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.
He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.
Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.
You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.
Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?
His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?”
God, he’s a professional.
You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.
He doesn’t.
You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”
He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”
“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”
His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”
You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”
“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”
Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”
His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”
You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”
You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”
He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”
“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much.
“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”
“Why’s that?”
“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours.
Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”
His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”
You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”
He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”
You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms.
He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.
He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”
Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.
“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence.
“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.
It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”
He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”
That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for.
He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”
You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex.
Right?
He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.
You let him move you.
“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”
“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”
You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.
“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”
You blink at him, “I’m going home?”
“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”
“No.”
He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”
You start to shake your head, “I can—”
He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”
You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.
“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan.
Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”
He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.
It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.
You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.
You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.
He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.
You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.
You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.
You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.
“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.
“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.
You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”
“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.
“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”
“Later?”
“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”
He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”
You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.
“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.
“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.
You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”
He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”
You nod, looking down again.
“You’re nervous,” he comments.
“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.
He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”
He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.
You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”
He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”
“Bruce—”
He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”
He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”
Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to waver almost instantly.
You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”
“Two hundred.”
“Bruce.”
He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.
You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”
His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”
You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”
“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”
You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”
His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.
“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.
Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.
He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.
You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.
“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.
You groan, “Why?”
He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”
“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.
He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”
You sit back on your heels again, frowning.
He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”
You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.
🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽
If you have not completed the UC Vanguard quest line, please do not read any further!
I had a realization about the opening missions in the game and wanted to discuss it with anyone who’s interested!
Just restarted the game (for the third time) and I noticed something about the beginning before you get to the Lodge for the first time. Vasco has you land on Kreet at an abandoned research facility to confront the Crimson Fleet Pirates that keep attacking you. It’s your standard tutorial mission, right?
Well, if you read the documents on the various computers throughout the facility and spot the claw marks on the ground in many places, you know there was (is?) a terrormorph somewhere in the facility that killed everyone. However, you also find a small room with dead heatleaches that have been dissected. If you’ve done most of the UC Vanguard missions, then you know heatleaches turn into terrormorphs when they “mature” or for other reasons found out in the quest line.
I believe the researches at this facility started by examining and dissecting heatleaches, and over time, one of them “matured” into a terrormorph causing the mass chaos found in the facility today. Obviously no one survived so the word of the heatleach to terrormorph transformation never gets out, but they would be, presumably, the second group to find out what a terrormorph actually is and where it comes from.
It’s a small thing, something a lot of people would look at and not think twice over, but it just reminds me that there is so much more to this game than meets the eye and it makes me even more interested in playing.
Reader (female) is taken by an unsub and Hotch finding reader, not leaving her side
Something New
Reader (female) finds out she is pregnant and has to find a way to tell Hotch.
Hello Darkness
Reader (female) getting hurt on the job and it leads to Aaron telling you how he feels.
Secrets on Paper
Reader (female) finding a letter Hotch wrote, explaining his feelings.
A Family Broken
Reader (female) suffers a miscarriage while on a case and has to tell Hotch
Color
Reader falls in love with Hotch and doesn’t know how to tell him
Eyes on You
Reader (female) has to resort to their “back-up” work outfit and catches a special someone’s attention
Hotch Helps You Sleep
The reader (female) is having a hard time sleeping and Hotch helps lull her to sleep.
If You Only Knew
Something takes place between Hotch and the reader (female). The reader tries to live without him but soon realizes that he is her grounding force.
Now I Know
This is a sequel to If You Only Knew. Aaron is cleaning out the attic and finds the box of letters the reader wrote for him during a relationship break. He reads them and finds out how the reader (female) truly feels
Will You Remember
Reader (gender-neutral) is a little tipsy/drunk. Character (Hotch) takes them to their apartment. Reader insists they sleep in the same bed.
That Thin Line
Enemies to lovers (gender-neutral reader) with the prompt - “Those things I said to you…I wish I could go back and stop myself from ever saying them.”
Derek Morgan:
Silver Lining
Imagine helping Derek feel better on a bad day (female reader insert).
I’m Here
Reader (female) has escaped an abusive relationship and finds comfort in Derek
I’ll Be There
Reader (female) realizes that Derek is more than just a friend, he is a brother.
Derek and a Puppy
The reader (female) has been secretly wanting a pet to keep her company while Derek is away for work and one night he comes home with a surprise.
Sometimes You Lose
Reader (female) and Derek come to the realization that they have feelings for each other, but is it too late?
Those Five Words
Reader (female) is having a bad day and a call from Derek Morgan turns it around.
Spencer Reid:
A Piece of You
Reader (female) finds she is pregnant just as Spencer is sent to prison.
David Rossi:
Mio Amore
The reader (female) is a server at Rossi’s favorite restaurant, as well as a culinary student, who flirts with Rossi and develops a relationship with him.
Emily Prentiss:
Lean on Me
The reader (female) doesn’t know how to process Emily’s death and a mysterious friend online just might be the answer.
SUPERNATURAL -
Dean Winchester:
Memories
Imagine Dean having to decide who lives, you or Sam (female reader).
Midnight Moments
Reader (gender-neutral) has trouble sleeping and gets a bit of help from Dean and Cas.
Make it Better
Imagine finding a baby, bringing it back to the motel, and learning that Dean knows how to care for it (gender-neutral reader).
Beautiful to Me
Imagine Dean telling you that he finds you beautiful (gender-neutral, but Dean calls the reader beautiful).
One Day
Imagine finding out you are sick and having to tell Sam and Dean (female reader).
What Love Is
A short one-shot based on the song “I Want to Know What Love is” by Foreigner (gender-neutral reader)
A Summer Surprise
A short one-shot based on the song “Cold as Ice” by Foreigner (gender-neutral reader - reader is called ‘sweetheart’ by Dean though)
Hold on Loosely
An angsty fic inspired by “Hold On Loosely” by 38 Special (female reader).
Sam’s Girl
An angsty fic, told from Dean’s POV and based on the song “My Best Friend’s Girl” by The Cars (female reader).
One October Night
A hurt/comfort fic based off the prompt “No one can find you here, so you may as well stop screaming.” (female reader)
This is Family
An angsty fic based off the prompt “Family is family. Whether it’s the one you start out with, the one you end up with, or the family you gain along the way.” (female reader)
Castiel:
In Line
Imagine finding yourself (gender-neutral reader) drawn to fixing Castiel’s tie and it leading you to revealing your feelings to him.
Toast
Imagine helping Cas make toast when he has never made it before (gender-neutral reader).
NCIS -
Tony DiNozzo:
Behind a Name
Reader (female) remembers the five different nicknames Tony gives her versus when he uses her real name.
If Only for a While
Imagine finding out you’re pregnant as a result of a r*pe, and Tony comforting you (female reader).
Make It Go Away
Reader (female) is suffering from a migraine and Tony takes care of them.
Driving Rain
The reader (female) admits her feelings to Tony, who doesn’t know how to respond. She flees, driving to somewhere unknown, at least until she tells Gibbs where she is, who gives Tony a good head slap and sends him after her.
In Your Arms
Reader (female) is struggling to deal with the death of a friend and finds Tony as a comfort.
Gibbs:
Sail Away
Reader (gender-neutral) runs away after the death of someone on the team. Only Gibbs can bring the reader home.
Got What I Got
Reader (gender-neutral, but Gibbs calls them *honey*) questions whether Gibbs wishes his life had turned out different.
Changed
Reader (female) had to join witness protection for a period of time. When the reader returns to the team, she is changed. No one knows how to talk with her, no one except Gibbs, who never stopped loving her.
Anew
Sequel to Changed. Reader (female) is just starting to enjoy her life again, when she is kidnapped. Will Gibbs be able to rescue her in time and save their future?
Drowns the Memory
Gibbs thinks that reader (female) and Tony are pushing rule 12. Reader tells Gibbs who she really wishes to break rule 12 for.
Warnings: language, slight angst, fluff, wide range of emotions expressed by reader in the letters
Word count: 2248
A/N: This is a sequel to If You Only Knew, set in the future when Aaron finds the letters the reader wrote. The reader is married to Aaron now. And my requests are always open so feel free to send me some!
Aaron is cleaning out the attic and finds the box of letters the reader wrote for him during a relationship break. He reads them and finds out how the reader truly feels
Summary: The BAU is accustomed to change – different cases every day, agents coming and going, roles changing – so the addition of a new member, an Administrative Liaison, should be no different. But the moment you arrive, everything changes for the better (Hotch just doesn’t realize it at first)…
I have this theory about Neville. He grew up being bullied and believing he was less than everyone around him by the people closest to him as well as his enemies. He eventually grows into himself, as we all know, but the memories of this never fade. He forgives everyone because that’s who he is, but he holds those memories close as motivation to be the best he can be.
All this is important because as a Professor at Hogwarts in his adult years, he finds those students who are going through something similar. Maybe they aren’t very brave, smart, or popular. Maybe their home life is less than ideal or their friends are constantly putting them down. Maybe they have a hard time grasping the concepts their being taught in school even though they are actively trying. No matter what it is, he notices.
He notices and he goes out of his way to make that student feel like the smartest, bravest, coolest kid in the school. He is constantly finding ways to build the student up and show them how great they are. He sends letters to their parents/guardians and goes out of his way to show others just how important the student is as well.
At first the student wouldn’t notice, it’s not like Professor Longbottom is shouting it at the top of his lungs in every class, but eventually they would catch on. In third year when their friend laughs at them for saying the wrong answer in class, Neville would immediately remind everyone that it was incredibly brave to put yourself out there like that and that others should take note and try as well. When the student gets overwhelmed studying for their O.W.L.’s at the end of their fifth year, Neville would offer them a safe space to relax and unwind in the greenhouses while he tended to the plants. He would tell the student stories from his school years and how he never thought he’d make it this far while the student just listened with rapt attention.
He would help every kid in that school any time they asked, but he always had a soft spot for those who reminded him of himself. McGonagall knew what he was doing, of course, and would silently watch from afar while recognizing just how much Neville had grown over the years she had known him. And eventually, when he is old and gray, retired from teaching and just enjoying his life with his family, he sees just how many people he’s come to help and finally understands that he is everything he never thought he was. Surrounded by his family, friends, and all the wonderful people he helped over the years, he can rest easy knowing he saved so many people beyond just fighting in a war. He was meant to go through what he did in order to help everyone who came along and needed his guidance. Sure, The Golden Trio had been made hero’s by what they went through in school, but Neville had built a legacy that would continue to shape new generations for years to come, even long after he is gone. Neville is the true hero in many ways.
Summary: The five times he should have said it and the first time he did.
The first time was after you two had been dating for six months. It was Christmas time and the school grounds were covered in a thick layer of snow. You had convinced the platinum haired boy to go outside with you for a walk around the lake. The two of you put on your warmest cloaks and began the short walk to the edge of the now frozen lake. Draco was too busy looking at you to notice the patch of ice directly in front of him and when he fell he managed to drag you down with him. If it had been anyone else with him he might have been more embarrassed, but with you laying on his chest, a rosy blush covering your cheeks from the cold, and snowflakes floating down around your head like a cheesy christmas picture, Draco couldn't really find it in him to care.
Your laughter floated around him like bells and for once he didn't think about his reputation so much as he too let himself laugh freely. As he looked into your y/e/c eyes he felt the words on the tip of his tongue and it shocked him so much he stopped laughing. When you noticed he had stopped you bit your lip and started to move as if to get up but his arms held you tightly to him ignoring the cold snow melting into his clothing beneath him. In a quick motion you almost didn't even see, he placed his lips upon yours and kissed you. When he pulled away he could see the blush on your cheeks get darker and he smirked. Even after six months he could still get a reaction out of you.
The second time had been just two days after the first. Both of you had gotten sick from being outside in the cold so long and you were sure you looked like a mess. Draco, the perfectionist he is, somehow managed to look like a god even when he had bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. Because he had been the one actually getting soaked the most during your excursion in the snow, he was worse off than you were so you had taken it upon yourself to take care of him.
You were constantly bringing him hot tea and making sure he was warm. While you both were on the couch in front of the fireplace in the common room you would run your fingers though his silky hair and massage his neck and shoulders. It was during a moment like that one where he was laying on the couch with his head in your lap as you read a book and combed your fingers through his hair that he felt the need to say those words once more. It didn't shock him as much this time, but he still couldn't bring himself to say the words on the tip of his tongue. Instead he whispered "you're beautiful," causing your hand to stop moving and your eyes to flash to his grey ones.
You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You were sick and unlike the boy on your lap, you looked far from beautiful. "I'm serious, Y/N. No matter what I will always think you're beautiful."
"Even if I dressed myself in a trash bag and and dyed my hair green?" You joked smiling at the blonde below.
"Even then," he replied rolling his eyes before he looked at you seriously once more. "You're not going to do that though, right?" You just laughed and began to read your book once more.
The third time was a few weeks later when you were in the stands cheering him on during the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match. He would catch your eye every once in a while as he was flying around in search of the snitch. He was trying to focus on the match but with the way you were looking at him it was hard. You had dressed in all green, something that he smirked at when you had wished him good luck before the game began, and he could see his scarf wrapped tightly around your neck as well.
When he glanced towards you for the third time in a minute he noticed a hint of gold streaking through the sky. With barely a moment of hesitation he raced off to catch the snitch. Within five minutes the game was over, Slytherin pronounced the winner as Draco caught the golden snitch. When he landed he was immediately surrounded by his teammates and the rest of the Slytherin house but his eyes were glued to your form as you pushed your way through the crowd and jumped into his arms. He was smiling wider than he probably ever had before and you wore a matching smile that caused his chest to constrict almost painfully. The words almost flew out of his mouth then and there but in order to prevent that from happening he pulled you into a passion filled kiss and spun you around. By now it was no surprise that he wanted to admit how he felt, but he wanted to do it in a more private and romantic way.
The fourth time he was actually prepared to say it and he almost had but the door to the common room had flung open right as he was about to. It was his birthday, June 5th, and instead of a party he had taken you on a date by the lake. He would've taken you somewhere off the school grounds but you told him you wanted to stay close by. He had a picnic prepared and a blanket spread out underneath a tree. You both talked for a few hours never seeming to run out of things to say when you suggested that you both should go back to the common room before curfew.
After packing all the things away Draco took your hand in his and walked with you back to the dungeons, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand the entire way. You noticed him glance at you every once in a while and he seemed to be deep in thought but you didn't ask him what was bothering him. Draco was the kind of person that would only tell you when he was ready. As you reached the painting that would lead to the common room he pulled you to a stop. "Y/N, wait. I need to tell you something." He cleared his throat while glancing around as if he was making sure no one was around to hear him. "I've wanted to tell you this for a while now, but I couldn't get it out. I uh-" he paused and grabbed your free hand in his and pulled you closer so that your bodies were almost touching. "I lo-," the painting swung open with a bang and both of you jumped.
"Surprise!" A collective yell from the crowd had Draco almost groaning in frustration. Just as he had finally gotten the courage to admit his feelings it had been interrupted by almost every Slytherin student as well as a few of the more entertaining Ravenclaws. He turned to face you and saw your mischievous grin.
"You planned this?" At your nod he smirked before dragging you inside. He'd tell you later when he could escape this party, but for now he would enjoy the attention and the time he had with you.
The fifth time he should have said those three words wasn't because he felt like it was the right time, it was because he needed to make you understand that he wasn't using you. The birthday party had been underway for a few hours and most everyone was drunk at this point. Both you and Draco had a few drinks but not enough to spoil the evening. Blaise, Draco's friend, was telling spectacular tales of him and Draco, each one slightly more embarrassing than the last. The platinum haired boy was smiling even though he was trying to glare at his friend.
"I'm serious! He screamed so loud that my ears were ringing for days and all because someone had used his shampoo!" Draco sighed but didn't bother to correct his friend. Nobody needed to know that he had actually screamed because he was in pain from a particularly bad torture session from the Dark Lord the day before. "Oh, now this is a good one. So last year Draco here was boasting to everyone how he could get any girl he wanted, right? So me being the amazing friend I am made a bet with him that if he couldn't get a girl of my choosing to go out with him by last Christmas then he would have to tell Potter that he had a crush on him." As soon as Blaise had begun speaking Draco had gone white as a sheet. He motioned to Blaise to stop speaking but the boy had already had more than enough to drink and didn't register the motion.
"Blaise, stop!" The blonde boy shot a look at his friend when he noticed your stony expression.
"No, Draco. I want to hear how this story ends." To the people around you your voice sounded sweet, happy even, but Draco knew the look in your eye was nothing short of devastated.
Blaise, not understanding what was going on between you two, continued. "Draco accepted, obviously, and I chose Y/N as his conquest. We all know what happens then! Just look at the happy couple!" Everyone turned to see Draco seething as he glared at Blaise but you were nowhere to be seen. The blonde didn't make a sound as he turned on his heel and chased after you.
"Y/N, wait!" He spotted your robes disappearing around the corner as he chased you. Luckily for him he had long legs and an athletic build from Quidditch so he was able to catch up easily. He reached out and pulled you to a stop while twisting your body around to face him as he pleaded with you. "I need you to listen to me, Y/N. Please." His heart constricted painfully as he saw the tears streaming down your face.
"Was that true?" You choked out, your throat felt tight and it was hard to see past the tears blurring your eyes. "Was Blaise telling the truth?"
Draco sighed and closed his eyes briefly before nodding. "Yes, but I swear that it's not like that now. It started off because of a bet but after I started getting to know you I realized that I really did like you and I wanted to be with you. If I was only doing it for the bet I wouldn't still be with you. You've got to believe me, Y/N. I lo-." This time it wasn't a door swinging open that interrupted him but your hand as you slapped him.
"Don't," you whispered lowly. "Just don't." With that you ripped yourself from his grasp and stormed away leaving him staring after you with a broken look.
It had been three weeks since his birthday and you were still avoiding him like the plague. He had tried to corner you but each time you managed to slip through his fingers and disappear. Today was the last day at Hogwarts with the train leaving in a few hours. Most of the students were either doing last minute packing or in the Great Hall enjoying the last meal in the castle that year. Draco sat alone at the Slytherin table watching you from afar. You were surrounded by a group of your friends who were all trying to cheer you up but it was no use. A thud sounded beside him making Draco whip around to see Blaise seated next to him.
"She's miserable without you." Draco scoffed at the boy and turned back towards you. Things were rough between him and Blaise ever since the party. It wasn't for lack of trying though as Blaise had apologized profusely, but Draco couldn't seem to care. Without you he was empty. Blaise sighed at the silence he received. "Anyone can see that you love her. They also know that she's completely in love with you as well. Maybe it won't change anything, but not telling her will definitely not change a thing no matter what. If you give up then you'll never know." Draco stayed still for a moment before he stood up and stalked towards you, a look of determination on his face, his eyes blazing.
The hall went silent as everyone watched the blonde approach you. As he got closer you turned to see him heading in your direction. You stood, presumably to get away, but he was quicker than you thought and he latched onto you pulling you close. "I made a mistake." No one dared to make a sound as they listened. Draco spoke quietly, but it was no use as everyone could gear him perfectly. "I was a stupid git and I made a massive mistake when I accepted the bet, but I don't regret it. Not completely, at least." He stared straight into your eyes as he spoke, never once glancing away. "How can I regret something that made me get to know you? If I hadn't of accepted the bet, I might never have realized that I love you Y/N." He paused, trying to see what your reaction was but your mask was firmly in place. "I love you, and if you don't believe that, then believe this."
With those words he slammed his lips on yours and kissed you fiercely. He could almost feel your mask cracking as he moved his lips against yours turning the kiss from harsh to gentle. He felt you begin to kiss back and he smiled into the kiss, moving his hands from your arms to cup the sides of your face. The great hall erupted into cheers from all sides, even a few of the gryffindors appreciating this brave move Draco had made. When he pulled away from you to see your face he couldn't help the smirk when he saw the blush staining your cheeks. Even now, almost a year later, he could still get a reaction out of you. 'Looks like the sixth times the charm,' he thought with a grin.
Warnings: Soulmate AU, fluff... that’s pretty much it I think
Summary: Everyone knew that if you dyed your hair your soulmate would have the same color highlights. It made for some interesting combinations, but Charlie was starting to worry about his soulmate since she seemed to be dying her hair almost daily, sometimes even twice a day.
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Y/N knew Harry was in trouble. The year had only just started and already he’d gotten himself into a massive amount of trouble and all without even trying. Now he was forced into participating in the Triwizard Tournament and most of the school was treating him as if he was Voldemort himself. Even Ron, his best friend, had resorted to avoiding the poor boy. Because of this Y/N had taken it upon herself to cheer the lonely gryffindor up.
“Come on, Harry! You’re going to miss it!” The witch laughed as she pulled the slightly reluctant boy behind her while simultaneously glaring daggers at anyone who looked at Harry the wrong way. Her hair, naturally a lovely y/h/c was beginning to turn a light shade of pink from from her excitement. Her mother had been part metamorphmagus and a little of that talent had been given to Y/N. She couldn’t really control it but her emotions tended to change her hair color.
“You can’t miss something that you haven’t made yet, Y/N,” Harry replied with a roll of his eyes. The witch stuck her tongue out at the dark haired boy before continuing on her rampage through the castle. When they reached the wall she was looking for Y/N dropped Harry’s arm and paced in front of the wall three times. When the door appeared both students shared a quick grin and went inside.
The room itself resembled the outside world though a much colder version. Luckily the room supplied large coats and had a fire pit set up in the middle. There was snow covering the ground everywhere and the ceiling was reflecting the night sky from back home. Quickly the two shrugged on a thick coat and sat in front of the fire. It only took a moment for the beautiful colors to start dancing across the “sky”. Y/N had the chance to see the northern lights last year on vacation and now she wanted to share that with her friend.
“It’s amazing,” Harry whispered. They sat there for a long while watching the fake lights before he slumped his shoulders in defeat. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. How am I supposed to beat a dragon?” Harry looked lost and slightly afraid as he spoke. Y/N felt bad for the boy but knew she wouldn’t be much help as she was just as lost as him.
“I don’t think you’ll have to beat the dragon. You’re only students, how do they expect you to know what to do about that. Maybe it’ll be a challenge like getting around the dragon or something?” Harry nodded a little but she could tell he wasn’t really listening. The pink color of her hair faded a little and a blue tint started to replace it. She hoped, for Harry’s sake, that everything went smoothly.
The next few days went by in a blur and before the young witch knew it the day of the first task had arrived. Hermione and Y/N snuck into the champions tent and tried to cheer Harry up. Rita Skeeter seemed to saunter right up to the trio a piece of parchment and a quill following we closely.
“And what do we have here? It seems to me that this little group seems to be awfully close. Tell me dears, how does it make you feel to be in the presence of one of the Hogwarts champions, hmm? And don’t hold back.” The quill had already begun scratching across the page before either of the two girls in question had spoken a single word. A quick glance at the notes the magical quill was writing had Y/N’s normal hair turning a bright red in anger.
“Listen here you overgrown snake, we are not in a ‘love triangle’. We are here to see our FRIEND so bugger off,” Y/N hissed. Hermione gripped her arm as if to hold her back but it didn’t seem to matter as the scheming blonde witch snapped a picture and went off towards another group. A deep chuckle came from the right and caused all three students to snap their heads toward the sound. There stood a tall man with freckles dotted across his face, blue eyes, and the same red hair that all the other Weasley’s sported, but his had streaks of bright red in it, much like the color that Y/N’s hair was at the moment.
“Charlie, I didn’t know you would be here,” Harry said. The dark haired boy grinned at the older Weasley.
“Where else do you think I’d be? Those are my dragons out there. Got to keep an eye on you guys and make sure you don’t hurt them.” The blue eyed man smirked at Harry before turning his gaze onto the Y/N. “Hello there,” Charlie said while stepping closer. “I’m Charlie Weasley, and you are?”
Charlie held his hand out to girl who’s hair was slowly turning pink. “Y/N. My name is Y/N Y/L/N.” Instead of shaking her hand Charlie pressed a kiss to the back of it and grinned widely when her hair immediately went bright pink instead of slowly changing as it had before. As hers had changed the red streaks in Charlie’s turned pink resulting in the two gryffindors still beside them snickering at the pair.
“Now it all makes sense.” Y/N’s brows rose in confusion at Charlie’s words. He chuckled and explained. “I always thought you were just obsessed with dying your hair, but I like this much more. How about we go take a seat and watch the competition? Maybe after that I can even take you on a tour of the camp we have set up and show you the dragons myself?”
Y/N didn’t even have the chance to speak before Hermione piped in. “She’d love to!” The pink haired girl threw her friend a glare but still managed to blush when she nodded at the man in front of her.
Warnings: Awkward reader, mean Fleur, slight angst, fluff
Summary: Y/N had known Bill for years, though always as his shy best friend even though she wanted to be more. When she finally gets the courage to tell him Fleur confronts her. Can she ever catch a break?
A/N: I actually like Bill and Fleur together but I needed Fleur out of the picture for this one.
The past year had been a difficult one for everyone involved, but for Harry it had been the worst he could remember. Y/N felt bad for the young boy. He had seen Voldemort rise up to power once more then watched as the same man, if he could even be called that, killed an innocent boy just because he was there. It put everyone on edge and almost as soon as it happened, Dumbledore reinstated the Order of the Phoenix. As the newest Charms professor, Filius retired to enjoy his remaining time, Y/N had been asked to join so she could help protect Harry. She hadn’t even had to think about it before accepting.
The only issue with the entire thing was being in close quarters to the Weasley family for long periods of time. Well, one Weasley in particular; Bill. Y/N and Bill had been in Hogwarts together and were best friends throughout all seven years. Unfortunately, Y/N had developed a crush on the redhead somewhere in her third year and it only got worse as they got older. Now, years later, she was hopelessly in love with the curse breaker and he was oblivious. Maybe if she had some of that gryffindor courage then she would have told him, but it seemed as if she was doomed to long for him from afar.
What was even worse was the blonde goddess called Fleur and her charming French accent had already made a move on Bill and he seemed to welcome her affections. It hadn’t been confirmed yet, but with the way the witch clinged to his side, Y/N knew it was only a matter of time. The only other person who knew about her feelings was Charlie and that was only because he had found her crying at the black lake one year when Bill had asked a girl from Ravenclaw to go to the School Ball with him. Charlie, the sweet boy he is, had immediately asked Y/N to go with him and made her laugh the entire night. They had never spoken about her feelings for the eldest Weasley boy since.
Today, however, seemed to be the day where she just couldn’t catch a break. There was an Order meeting taking place later in the evening so everyone had gathered to eat and visit before they started. Molly had made an amazing meal, of course, and Y/N had enjoyed her time chatting with Charlie. Throughout the meal she had snuck glances at Bill when she thought no one could see, but apparently Charlie had seen and now he wouldn’t let it go.
“You need to tell him, Y/N. You’ve been crushing on him for years,” Charlie tried to convince her.
Y/N looked around the drawing room trying to make sure no one was in earshot of their conversation. “I can’t. He doesn’t feel the same way and besides, he’s probably with Fleur and it’s pointless.” Charlie sighed. He knew his brother wasn’t with Fleur, but he also knew that it would only be a matter of time if the stubborn witch in front of him did nothing.
“Tell him. The worst that can happen is he doesn’t feel that way about you and you can finally move on, but if you don’t tell him you’ll never know.”
Y/N’s plan seemed simple enough. She would wait until after the meeting then she would ask Bill if they could talk in private somewhere. Once they were alone she would explain her feelings and let him decide where they stood. If she was being honest, she didn’t even pay attention to the meeting. Her entire focus had been on maintaining the sudden burst of courage and trying to not be sick. When the meeting was over everyone stood to leave. Y/N sighed quietly and stood, her gaze focused on the long haired Weasley on the other side of the table. With as much confidence as she could muster, Y/N began to walk around the table to aproach Bill. She was stopped by the seemingly polite voice of the French witch though and her courage plummeted.
“‘Ello Y/N. Would ‘ou mind if we spoke?” The blonde woman had a smile on her face but her eyes seemed to radiate hatred. Y/N nodded, her eyes downcast at this point. Neither witch noticed the curious eyes of Bill Weasley following them as the left the room. Once they stepped into the sitting room, Fleur’s smile dropped. “I heard ‘ou and Charlie earlier. Bill does not like ‘ou in that way and ‘ou will only get hurt if ‘ou tell him. He is mine.” Her words, though unnaturally charming due to her accent, were like fire and they burned Y/N with every word spoken.
“But I love him.” The words were whispered but held so much emotion at the same time. “I know he doesn’t love me, but he deserves the truth and if I’m going to move on I need to tell him. I can’t keep waiting for something that will never happen. It hurts too much.” The tears Y/N held back were threatening to escape as a single tear slid down her cheek.
The sound of someone clearing their throat caused both women to look up. Bill stood there, his gaze trained on Y/N while the disheartened witch quickly turned around and wiped her eyes. “Fleur, would you give us a moment?” If Y/N had been looking she would have noticed that he didn’t even glance toward the fuming blonde while she stormed out of the room. She heard light footsteps approaching and did her best to put a smile on her face. Y/N turned around to face the redhead but she kept her gaze trained on the spot directly to the left of his head.
“Hey Bill, what’s up?” It took most of her willpower to not wince at her weak greeting.
“Were you telling her the truth?” Any hope the witch had of him not hearing what she said immediate went up in flames. She dropped her head and closed her eyes against the tears waiting to fall. “Y/N, please.” His voice sounded almost tortured as he stepped even closer, now only mere inches away. “Was that true?”
Y/N nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. Bill stayed silent and with each passing moment Y/N’s heart dropped further. She didn’t even bother to keep her eyes shut any longer and let the tears fall freely. She felt his hand cup her cheeks and wipe the tears away causing her to gasp quietly. He tilted her face up slightly and for the first time since he had entered she was able to see his expressions clear on his face. His eyes were shining and his lips were turned up in a small smile.
“I love you too you silly woman. I’ve loved you since sixth year when you fell off the bench in the great hall because you saw a spider. You managed to drag me down with you and forced me to move to a different seat afterwards and I remember you clinging to my arm as if I was your own personal shield. That was the moment when I realized I’d do anything for you. Even save you from the smallest of spiders.” As soon as he finished speaking he leaned in and placed his lips on hers. It was a magical kiss and Y/N knew she would never get enough of the feeling she got with him. Their lips moved in sync and the kiss lasted for a few minutes only pulling away for a quick breath before kissing again. When they finally pulled apart a blush rose up on Y/N’s cheeks from the intense look in Bill’s eyes.
A moment later the pair was startled by Charlie shouting “Finally” as he walked by the room.
Summary: Age is but a number, but what happens when Y/N meets her soulmate and he is old enough to be her great grandfather? Not everything happens in order and love is no different.
Authors Note: There will not be a romantic relationship between the older version of Dumbledore and the main character. There is a reason time travel is involved. Also I am using the Fantastic Beasts version of the young Albus mostly because I prefer they way he looks over the way he was described in the books.
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Everyone was born with a tattoo of the name of their soulmate on their wrist. The person who you would love with all your heart, who you would do anything for and vice versa. It was the most magical thing in a world of magic, and for Y/N it was no different. She knew her soulmates name as if it was engraved on the backs of her eyelids. It was a part of her now, more than anything else. Her parents weren't quite as sure though and even though they never mentioned why to the young girl, they always tried to come up with reasons why late at night when they discussed her mark. It wasn't until Y/N turned 11 that she realized why.
She had recieved her Hogwarts letter earlier in the summer and had been extremely excited to attend the school of magic ever since. Her parents had taken her to Diagon Alley and bought all her school supplies. As a gift they even bought her an owl. And on September 1st the young girl made her way to Platform 9 ¾ and began the journey to the rest of her life. She was also excited to see if her soulmate would be there.
When they arrived the young girl could hardly contain her excitement. She, along with the other first years, stood in a group and waited to be sorted. When it was her turn, Y/N made her way up to the stool missing the knowing look from the wise old wizard at the table behind her and allowed the sorting hat to fall onto her head. Moments later the hat let out a shout of “Y/H” and she made her way to the table that was currently cheering for her. It was only after all the students had been sorted that Y/N spotted the wizard with a long white beard stepping up to a podium.
“Good evening students, both new and old. For those of you who don't know, I am Professor Dumbledore.” Though the man kept talking, Y/N couldn't seem to hear him through the fog that had overtaken her mind. With a glance down at her robe covered wrist, Y/N couldn't help but be confused. She turned to her right where an older student sat listening intently to what the headmaster was saying.
“Pardon me, but do you know what Professor Dumbledore's first name is?” The boy gave her an odd look before replying.
“Albus. His name is Albus Dumbledore.” She couldn't think straight after he spoke. Lifting her Sleeve just enough to see her soulmates name tattooed on her wrist, Y/N let the fingers of her opposite hand trace the dark letters there. ‘Albus Dumbledore’ was written in neat cursive lettering standing out against her skin. This couldn't be right.
Five years later found the young witch growing up fast. With a war on the horizon and her friends and family in immediate danger, Y/N had almost completely given up on figuring out her confusing tattoo. She hadn't spoken to the headmaster for more than a few moments since she first started at Hogwarts. She was almost positive that he had to have known something was up as he would have her name tattooed on his wrist as well. Her friends, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all knew about her tattoo, but they were just as confused as she was. It was the summer before her fifth year that she finally got a few answers. The Order of the Phoenix had been reinstated with the rise of Voldemort during the Triwizard Tournament last year and she had been living in the Headquarters for the last few weeks after Arthur Weasley brought her there from her parents house. She hadn't been allowed to sit in on any of the meetings until Harry arrived.
The first time she sat through the meeting, Professor Dumbledore was there. She absentmindedly traced her tattoo through the whole meeting, catching the wise old wizards attention. When the meeting was adjourned, Albus called out for the young witch to stay behind. Her friends gave her knowing looks before leaving the room. “Yes professor?” Y/N asked, chewing on her bottom lip with nerves.
“I've been avoiding you since your first year and I believe it is time you learned why.” The tired old man explained that he knew what her soulmate tattoo would say and that he too had one of her name, but it was more complicated than the age gap between them that she had originally thought of. “You see, I've already bonded with my soulmate. You and I have met many years before you first came to Hogwarts as a first year.” At Y/N confused look he chuckled. “In two years time you are going to be forced backwards in time to my past. I met you merely a few years after I became a Professor at Hogwarts. You helped me through the grief of my younger years and taught me that love transcends everything, including time. For you, this is a journey not yet begun, but for me, well, I have all the memories I need as well as the promise of seeing you again when it is my time to rest in peace.” They spoke for a long while, going over what was to come even though the older professor refused to give away what their relationship had in store for the young witch.
A year later saw Y/N watching as her soulmate was murdered in front of her. She had known it was going to happen though he had sworn her to secrecy when he told her, but it didn't make it any easier. For the next year she felt as if she was just going through the motions. Helping Harry and the gang find the horcruxes was the least she could do. When the final battle came she fought valiantly. Firing spells left and right. It seemed as though she would either win or die trying, but as she spun to face her next opponent two spells hit her chest at the same time. Perhaps it was the mix of the two spells or perhaps it was just magic, but Y/N found herself falling through a dense fog. It seemed like she was falling for days though she had no way of keeping track of the time when she finally landed. Her body hit the ground hard and her sight seemed to fail her for many moments before she was able to see a pair of shoes in front of her face. Looking up slowly she saw the face of a young man in his early twenties kneeling next to her. He had brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard to match, but what stunned her the most were his piercing blue eyes.
“Are you alright?” The man asked, his gaze filled with concern as she struggled to find an answer.
“Yes, I think so.” Y/N pushed herself up into a seated position, wincing as she did so. “Where am I?”
The man chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he gazed upon the young woman. “You must have hit your head harder than I thought. You are at Hogwarts. What is your name?” He asked. Y/N held out her hand in greeting, blushing slightly as she realized she was still on the ground and probably looked a mess.
“My name is Y/N Y/L/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir.” The man smiled widely, his eyes glowing bright with an emotion Y/N wasn't familiar with.
“Y/N. A beautiful name for a stunning woman. I am Albus Dumbledore.”
For a moment all the air seemed to rush out of Y/N's lungs and she couldn't breathe. Her mind couldn't comprehend the information just spoken even though she had been prepared for it many years in advance. A soft “oh” is all she could manage while Albus smiled at her.
And why the hell are gingers called carrot tops?! Like, the top of a fucking carrot is the green leaves usually. The last I checked, gingers had red hair! RED! I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason behind the nickname, but I'm too fucking tired to look for it on google. Just thought ya'll would like to know what my brain thinks about when I'm sleep deprived.
Do you ever think about the people who created the written language? I don't know about countries where English isn't the primary language, but it's fairly common to find words in English where certain letters are silent. Like the word 'receipt' or 'psychic' where the letter P is not actually said allowed. So someone, however many years ago, while trying to make the spelling of a word match the sound of said word decided to fuck with everyone and add extra letters.
"Ah, Gregorio! Have you finished the next set of words?"
"Yes!" Hands the scroll over to his colleague. "What do you think?"
"Is this- is this really how the word psychology is to be spelled?"
Gregorio clutched his stomach while tears gather in his eyes. "Yes! Would you like to know why?"
