#maybe using magic spends more of his energy than he'd like

[stargirl-writes]

through your eyes

pairing : librarian! reader x artist! anakin skywalker

word count : 2.7k

masterlist | ao3 link

summary

you'd find every book there is in search of a world you can get lost in. you thought you weren't really special enough to pursue an adventure for yourself. when one day, you notice a certain jedi spend a lot of time in your quiet library. strange— how he'd choose to sit in solitude when he can be pursuing a more colorful life outside, even stranger, is how he shows you a portrait he drew of you.

tags : fluff, romance, comfort, maybe a bit of angst(?), but it's a happy fic i promise!

warnings : none(!)

notes : hello angels! i REALLY needed to write a lover-boy-anakin for my sanity and this came to me because of this blog and watching 'the portrait of a lady on fire' because i just love how artists love. so if you're in for a tooth-aching soft fluffy ani fic, i gotchu!

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

There is nothing more magical than the worlds you escape in reading for hours.

You can become an adventurer, seeking a great legend, or a fighter, ready to give your life for a cause, or a witch, enchanting villages to heal, or something useful, like a staple gun, or in love.

It would always take you away from the realities of your world. A galactic war, you grieve at night for; because you're you. And you're only the librarian in the capital city of Coruscant.

Besides, there's the Jedi Order and the Republic to fight the war. All there's left for you is to wait, and cry silently, and try to live despite it all.

You close the book you were holding, it was the last installation of the novel you were following. Towards the end, the female lead finally achieved her life's purpose— a happy ending.

It left you feeling empty, jealous even. Because she got to live a life worth hurting for— a sweet fervor. At least her suffering is met by an ending she deserves.

With a sigh, you got up and placed the book neatly on the bookshelf. The library was quiet, like it usually is. No one seems to take interest in thousands of stories waiting to be unravelled.

Maybe, they're actually living a life worth telling a story for. And you're here, stuck, looking for anything to take you off your own reality.

You heard a chair creak from a distance. You perk your head up, trying to find the source of the sound.

A lone man sat, holding what looked like a book in his hand. He was wearing robes you could recognize were of the Jedi's. Strange, a Jedi reading, even stranger, he was holding something, a pencil or a pen, and he was writing down in his book.

As the librarian, you wanted to come up and ask him if there was anything you could help him with. Half-hoping to hear what type of books he was interested in. But his eyes were focused and intent, like he was really immersed, and you thought it best not to disturb him.

So you left him to his business. It was already late, and your energy is already depleted from finishing your book.

The following days were identical. Arranging books, cleaning shelves, helping a few readers find their books.

The Jedi you once saw that night became ever-more present. You wanted to ask what he was reading, must be something good if he's willing to sit down and go through it rather than pursue colorful adventures as a Jedi.

You were finishing the inventory one night when you curiously peeked over the Jedi. His eyes caught yours and you looked away, embarrassed to have been so shamefully staring.

But then, your curiosity overcomes your embarrassment, so you walk up the Jedi.

"I can't help but notice you come here often" You began, trying your best to conceal your excitement. You wanted to know what he was reading, you needed some place to take your mind off.

"Oh?" He looks up, closing his book.

The cover didn't have a title, and you frowned at the let down.

"Well, I've never seen a Jedi actively want to read before" You commented, earning a chuckle from him.

"May I ask what you're reading?" You blurt out.

You could feel his gaze land on you and you suddenly feel conscious of being subjected to his attention.

He shakes his head with a lighthearted smile, and tucks his book to his robes.

"No, I'm sorry, It's not a book" He answers.

Seeming to read the visible disappointment in your face, he brings the book on the table again.

"Then what is it?"

"I draw, sometimes" He answers, handing you his journal, you turn the page revealing his sketch of the architecture of the library, it was elaborate, sharp lines that capture the symmetry of the columns, darker shades where there is no light.

Your eyes land on another sketch, a mech-droid. He even has a deconstructed version beside it like he had been studying how to operate it.

You turn another page, and you recognize a woman, Madame Jocasta, the librarian for the Jedi Library.

"These are really well done." You commented. "Are you a mechanic?" You asked, finding another elaborate deconstruction of a lightsaber.

"Yeah, you can say" He answers with a smile. "But I'm a Jedi knight, I'm only drawing what interests me"

"Why come to the library then?" You asked, turning to the last few pages, and to your surprise, you saw a sketch of the night you finished a novel you were reading.

Your cheeks were painted scarlet— following the lines he used to capture your visible dismay. You look up, stuck between being flattered and feeling embarassed.

"I meant to give you that" He scratches the back of his head.

You shake your head, deciding it was an innocent act to observe and draw what he sees. "Well, you got my nose wrong" You tease.

He chuckles, as if he's relieved by your positive reaction.

You dared turn another page and find another portrait of you, you recognize that it had been the day when you were explaining the metaphor used in your favorite classical tale of a boy who's got too much in his ego, it ended up being his downfall.

The Jedi didn't fail to capture the Twilek's reaction to your rambling and you laughed at the picture.

"I think she just wasn't ready to hear the tale of a boy who got too close to the sun" You explained the reason for the Twilek's expression on the portrait.

"I don't understand why it'd be a tragedy, Icarus was smiling when he fell" The Jedi speaks, and your heart skips a beat. He knows the story, you fought the excitement to urge him to expand on his thought.

"You know the story?"

"Ah, my mother used to tell me a lot" He answers. "She told me that he knew exactly what it'd mean if he went too far"

"And you think he was happy when he fell?" You inquired, curious by his optimistic view.

"I think he finally achieved his life's purpose" His lips curl to a smile.

For a moment, you held your breath, perplexed by how he interpreted such a tragic end.

You caught him looking, and you stripped your gaze away, closing his journal and handing it back to him.

You hoped that you've not made him feel embarrassed to not want to come again. The way he gave a fresh view on your favorite tale made you want to hear what he has to say.

"Well, if you're interested in drawing, I'm always here" You invited.

His eyebrows flash. "In that case, I swear I'll never bore the way that Twilek did. You can tell me all the stories you can"

Your heart skips and you can't help but smile at the thought.

"My name's Anakin"

"[Name]"

Anakin became more apparent to your life.

With your permission, he finally was able to study you, his eyes would narrow in focus, trying to replicate what he sees and how he sees you using a pencil, and you, reading stories and tales out loud.

In the beginning, you felt squirmish. He was really intent on looking at you, seeing you. No one else has quite looked at you the way he does. and you felt like every insecurity of yours was brought up front.

It felt like undressing; you thought, if he sees too closely, and unmasks you, will there be anything underneath? You felt like you were too mundane for him to look at you the way he does.

"And towards the end, she'd settle for a quiet life. She'd have lain on the ground he'd walk on, and this was a life she could see herself in" You finished the tale.

Anakin's eyebrows furrowed, showing dislike for the ending. "That can't be her end" He states his opinion.

You put down the book, happy that he was thinking the same as you. "Why do you say?" You encouraged him to speak more.

He doesn't stop looking up and down from you to his sketch. "She was an traveller, she wanted to sail" He recalled the synopsis.

"She was in love, it made her have different priorities" You considered the point the author made.

His hand halts, and his eyes land on yours. "If he truly loved her, he would have allowed her to become a fully realized person. He'd not have asked her to extinguish her fire" He looks up, as if in thought. "If he loved her, being near her fire would have been enough"

You smiled, surprised to learn that Anakin had been such a romantic.

"Well, what do I know, I've never been in love" You shrugged.

You look up to find Anakin's expression soften. You wondered what he was thinking of in this very moment.

"It's done" He says after a while.

He shows the portrait, and immediately, you see how unkept your hair looked. Then, how he deliberately emphasizes the creases of your cheeks when you smile and how he erased a portion in your eyes to make them appear as though it twinkled with light.

"You don't like it?" He says after noting your reaction.

"No, no, it's lovely" You answered. Though, you felt like it was too pretty, too idealized. Perhaps, he was seeing you in a manner you can't, for better or for worse, you don't know.

He nods, you can see his reluctance to ask what you thought, then you mentally slapped yourself for forgetting he can sense, and he definitely got what you'd been feeling.

The following afternoons went like that. You freely speaking your mind and him carefully sketching, listening.

For the first time, you don't feel like there is a need to escape your world anymore. You wake up, filled with stories you wanted to tell Anakin. Your heart would skip every time you hear the bells of the library door ring. Or when you'd catch Anakin so deep in focus, as if he was committing you to memory, and over time, his sketches of you became more honest, he'd sketch your insecurities with charming strokes, and you don't feel as though you have to hide them around him. He looks at you and sees art. It felt like the most comforting thing.

"But that was the test, he needed to trust that she'll walk behind him, he has to decide that it would be enough" You challenged his view one time you finished reading a tale of two lovers, Orpheus and Eurydice.

He has finished drawing and put down his journal to engage with your opinions.

"Can you really blame him? The Gods were playing with his doubts" He defends.

"Right, he did walk to hell for her" You considered.

"But isn't that what makes it so tragic— they could have made it out, they were so close" You grieved, because despite knowing the ending, you still hope that somehow, they'd find a way to crawl out of hell. Enduring love like that earns an ending that is deserved.

"Orpheus was only a man. He chose to look at her, one more time. He knew if he did, he'd lose her. And he did. It's a choice not of a lover, but of a poet" He concludes, and you thaw.

You'd still find yourself mesmerized by his mind. The way he sees things, the gentleness that comes, not because of the absence of violence, he knows too much of it in the war, but because despite the abundance, he remains tender.

You don't know when you started falling in love with Anakin. You only know that he'd be the story that'll last for your lifetime.

Anakin hands you the portrait. And you smiled at the expression he chose to immortalize. One of when you're almost brought to tears narrating how Eurydice was always behind Orpheus despite him never hearing her.

"I wish I looked this pretty when I cry" You commented, tracing over the lines of his sketch of you.

You felt Anakin tuck a loose strand of hair to your ear. He was looking at you with the same focus, the same wonder, same fascination.

You've grown so used to his gaze, it felt like you were communicating something that can't be expressed into words.

"If you see yourself the way I do now, you'd never doubt my sketches" He softly speaks.

"You're beautiful"

His words latched to your heart.

Anakin is the most dream-like of all; sometimes he feels like a mere character of a novel incarnated into an etheric being.

Anakin held your face, and in the heat of the moment, you pressed your lips against his.

You thought, if anyone else can feel how he makes you feel, they'd never doubt that true love exists.

The understanding you craved for— he gave you most ardently.

Saying 'I love you' came easy. Sometimes, you feel as though saying it would not suffice for how enormously you felt for him.

Your afternoons became late nights, and early mornings. Anakin would ask you to stop smiling, so he could draw you in honesty, but how could you not? You loved the way he'd be so immersed, so lost by gazing at you.

It was a bliss you've only known with Anakin.

But you watched how slowly, he was becoming more and more tense. You're not fighting the war the way he was, being a General, wielding a weapon at the front lines.

He'd rip away pages in frustration, and though you try to soothe the tension and pressure, you're afraid that this story will end in a tragedy.

All your favorite romances leave you feeling hollow towards the sad ending. And with Anakin, you keep being haunted by the thought that any moment might be the last.

What an odd plot to be involved in; loving and being deathly terrified of losing it.

You wrapped yourself in his robes— wishing the feeling to stop plaguing you. Anakin had been asleep, and you stood by the balcony, deep in thought.

You tuck your hands in your pockets, feeling your fingers grow cold by the crisp midnight air.

A piece of paper crumples, and you unfold the portrait.

It was the night you first shared yourself with Anakin. Your mind is flooded by the memory; how he made sure you felt comfortable, how he took every moment slowly like the world outside didn't matter.

You didn't know he drew you, or that he kept it in his pockets. It was strange— to see the picture he loved most was one where you were sleeping. You tuck the paper back inside and go back to bed.

He's gone most of the days now. But you can tell he's making the effort to stay awake when he'd come to your quarters.

"—Love is not an everlasting performance in which you have to attempt to keep your lover's attention. Rather, it's the release of insecurity to trust them to choose to stay, no matter what they see" You narrated softly, thinking Anakin had fallen asleep.

You planted a kiss on his forehead.

"I don't think I've heard this story before" He speaks up after a while.

"No, you haven't" You managed a wan smile. "I wrote it"

Anakin was looking at you the way he used to before. Your heart ached, but you proceeded. "I love you with what in me is unfinished, with what in me remains changing. By you, I am forever undone."

Anakin holds you tight.

"Do you think it'll have a happy ending?" You spoke nakedly.

"Not all stories end in tragedy, my love" He reassures.

You bit your lip "We'll have to conquer the fates, it's been written so many times, a cruel ending" You can't entirely let your fears go.

"Fate gave you to me"

"If by some twist, we end in tragedy, then I am happy to have loved you" He says.

You let out an exhale. There was the simple truth of it; that all things must go, even Anakin. And like him, you felt as though you were blessed to even share a portion of your life with him. Loving is never a waste, even just for the brief time you're allowed in one lifetime. You decided it would be enough for you.

In his arms, it felt like you're unravelling a story that may have a happy ending after all.

#anakin skywalker #anakin (ciella's ver) #star wars #sw #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars anakin #anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker fluff #sw anakin #anakin star wars #anakin imagine #anakin x y/n #Spotify

[twistedyanposts]

I'm an enabler, so let's say that in the yan self-aware verse, the characters aren't aware of how their chapter ends.

Which means the moment you're popped in there instead of Yuu, Riddle establishes a new Heartslabyl cast rule: The player is not to be left on their own.

Whether they know they were designed to be your first dorm dealt with or not doesn't matter to them in the slightest. If they don't know, then they believe that you chose them! If they do, then whatever highest power there is in the world picked them to watch over you! Either way, it was meant to be!

The regular NPCs of the world don't see you as who you really are. To them, there's no difference between you and Yuu. Tragic, really. But it helps them keep your existence in their world under the radar.

Ace and Deuce are the only ones in your class, and after that you get passed off to either Cater or Trey for club time. Trey knows they couldn't hide you from Rook if they tried, and Cater has a feeling Lilia already knows...meanwhile, Kalim is pretty oblivious. You aren't meant to know him yet, so while he feels something is off about you, something that makes him so much happier whenever Cater brings you to their club meetings, he can't quite put his finger on it.

When Ruggie is supposed to use his Unique Magic to steal Grim's sandwich, he ends up distracted and going back empty-handed. Not that Leona's too upset, because the news he carries with him is so much more interesting.

Plans have changed a little bit. The Magift tournament is tossed out the window, due to a much more appealing prize. The NPCs of Savanaclaw are pretty confused as to why they're specifically targeting members of Heartslabyl now, but to hell with it. Boss' orders, right?

In fact, Magift is supposed to be a no-holds barred game, ain't it? Well, now they've got a bone to pick with a specific dorm. Why not cripple them in advance, and prepare themselves for the hunt?

Ruggie is more than happy with the change of plan. Or at least, he is eventually. Because the more time he spends stalking after their newest prey, the oblivious first years you're always hanging around with, the more time he spends in your presence. Even if it is further away than he'd like...

Maybe it's because they drew power from you behind the screen before your appearance in this world, but for the folks who know who you really are, you're like a beacon of energy. For the hyena who's been starved for just about everything his whole life, living off of scraps, having you in front of him is a buffet that replenishes itself faster than he can eat it. His heart has never felt so full!

Jack was never on board with his dorm leader's original plan, no matter how much respect he used to have for him. As for the new one...it's a bit more complicated.

Sure, he resents Heartslabyl for keeping you away from the rest of them. What the hell! They didn't honestly think they could keep it up forever, did they? And it wasn't fair, either! It wasn't like they were the only people who had your attention. Main Story or no Main Story, you gave yourself to more than just their dorm, so to keep you all to themselves was just...agggh!

On the other hand, you had chosen on your own not to go to the other dorms, either...not that that was a bad choice. The other dorms weren't exactly full of trustworthy people. His own included. The path Leona is trying to lead them down has got to be the wrong choice. If you thought they were the best option, you would have gone with them! Riddle was able to see the error of his ways before...but so can Jack! So he'll prove to you that he can be trusted on his own, without the rest of his dorm! Then he can also protect you!

Last but certainly not least, Leona. He's less subtle once their goals have changed. Let Riddle show up, so long as he brings you with him. Hell, he'll take on the whole dorm at once as long as you're the honored guest. After the stunt they pulled, they deserve to all be turned to sand.

Something in the air had been off for a while, not quite putting him on edge, but more than enough to grab his attention. It was honestly kind of irritating, the way it kept him from being able to drift off like usual.

Looking back on it, he should've gotten off his ass and went looking for the source. Would've saved him a lot of trouble. At least now he gets to kill two birds with one stone. He won't make the same mistake those pesky herbivores did.

Once he's put them in their place, you won't be leaving. Ever.

After all, it's hard to be second place when you're the only one competing.

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #twst #tw: yandere #cw: yandere #yandere #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #leona kingscholar #yandere ruggie bucchi #yandere jack howl #yandere leona kingscholar

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Poison Lips and True Love's Kiss

Not Natural ✨ The Devil's Trap ✨ Holy Water ✨ The Demon's Altar ✨ Midnight Meeting ✨ The Hunter's Trap ✨ Sharp Secrets and Bloody Blades ✨ A Hunter's Beast Tamed ✨ No Chick Flick Moments ✨ Witches, Bitches, and Beasts ✨ Cursed or Not

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: SPN inspired, ABO dynamics (knots, slick heats), demon Kells, hunter Dom, magic, hunting, threats, death (other people), descriptions of a sacrifice, Kells facing off with a naked woman, blood, stolen kisses, stabbing (not them), almost dying, fear, PTSD, interesting use of a rose petal, naughty potions, nervous boys, playful insults, Tom being annoyed and secretive, boys not so secretly in love ⚰️ rating: mature

The nephalem snuck out after his lover fell asleep. They'd decided to head to Tom's first thing- which for Dominic meant after four hours of sleep and maybe another orgasm. Before he'd crashed he told Kells about the monster he assumed was in town, it sounded like a shapeshifter. He fucking hated those nasty things. Obviously it wasn't their fault they shed worse than cicadas in summer but the wet mess left over made him nauseous. The kid said it was alright, that they could leave it for someone else to hunt but he could feel it buzzing in the back of the boy's head as he fell asleep. He could deal with it as a surprise for the Hunter and they could leave without worrying. It shouldn't take him more than five minutes anyway. 

He could easily just snap it out of existence but he was trying to use less of his demonic powers while hunting with his omega. If he went after it the way a human would, he hoped it would impress Dom. Forcing himself out of the bed was almost impossible but getting dressed and actually leaving had him second guessing his choice. It shouldn't be so hard to leave but he'd been right in his fears before, he was leaving more than just his spend inside his bitch. If he didn't know better he'd say he was leaving pieces of his heart. 

After giving the boy a kiss and leaving a note, he found himself in a more rural area. Some off the beaten path type of road to a private community. He let the feel of magic lead him but the moment he arrived something felt… off. The case notes as Dom had gathered them were simple- people were disappearing for a few days before showing back up acting like a completely different person. They only stayed long enough to empty their bank accounts and wreck their own lives before they were gone again. Kells and Dom came to the same conclusion, a shapeshifter was killing fuckers and showing up in their skin to drain their bank accounts. He assumed destroying their relationships and quitting their jobs was a way to keep them from getting looked for. No cops to search if no one gave a shit. 

As he stalked through the field he felt excitement in his belly, he wasn't just saving humans- which he really didn't care much about, he was keeping his lover safe as well and he got to kill something for him. Maybe being a Hunter wouldn't be too bad, he could get a little murder done and call it for the greater good. He didn't want to make the punk realize he was more demon than angel so if getting monsters was the answer he was happy to do it. 

As he approached what looked to be a ranch style compound a sense of dread started creeping up in the back of his mind. Maybe he should have just snapped his fingers and wiped them out, something felt… wrong the longer he was there. The energy coming off the land wasn't like any shifter he'd ever felt. They were weak normally, mostly human with a few gross extras but the power coming off the building made his stomach roll. It felt strangely hot and vile, there was something wrong there. They'd missed something. He was sure of it. He could hear chanting from inside and he took a deep breath before looking through a low window and the sight he found just made him even more confused. All the humans that had recently gone missing were inside, plus quite a few more. They were standing in a circle, one of them laid out in the middle with another standing over her with a knife. They all looked enraptured, even the one he was sure was about to be cut open, she looked happiest of all. 

"What the fuck-" He whispered under his breath as the man holding a dagger struck and all the humans cried out like a fucking congregation speaking tongues. He cursed and stepped back, his eyes going wide and true form. His back hit something and he jumped, whirling around with his gun held at the ready but he knew. Whatever monster was here needed more than silver through the heart. 

A gorgeous woman was standing naked and drenched in blood. Her red hair shone like copper in the moonlight and her tanned skin almost glowed. There was a heart in her hand and he knew if he turned around to face the people the dead woman's organ would be missing. What the fuck had he walked in on? 

"You act like you've never seen people happily sacrifice for love before." She giggled, her voice he could tell was supposed to be sensual but it felt like an oil spill on his skin. Black and sticky. He could already feel while perhaps she was as pretty as a rose- there were thorns. "Would you like some?" She purred, holding the heart up to him and his nose wrinkled and he shook his head. 

"No thanks. I ate out for dinner." He joked though no one else but him would get the comment. He really should hunt with Dom so he could watch the boy turn pink at his words. He was getting happier by the moment that he came out alone though, he didn't want his lover anywhere near this bitch. 

The woman's head tilted and her hair slipped away from covering her breasts. He couldn't help but drop his gaze momentarily as she gave him an odd look. He knew she was trying to see inside him but he had better walls than that. After a minute she huffed and pouted her plush lip out like a child about to throw a tantrum. He didn't know what he was facing but it definitely wasn't weak, just maybe immature. "What are you?" She asked, waving her hand to put away her leftovers before she stepped closer and placed her bloody hands on his chest.

He had to fight an eye roll, after a while that question got tiring and while normally he could pass as just a demon, he knew Dom was bringing too much out in him. "Bored and taken to start with, why don't you tell me what you are?" He couldn't help but try and take her down a few pegs, she was pushing up her tits and trying to seduce him and all he could think about was his bitch. Not the perky try hard in front of him.  

She stood on tiptoe and stole a kiss before he could push her back but he did as fast as possible. As she stumbled away she started laughing again. "You taste special. Like dark chocolate with a creamy light center. There's something else though- something familiar. Why do you taste like family?" 

Keliphos had been confused a lot in his very long life but that was a new one. He didn't want to taste like anything to the freaky naked chick and that more than anything made him realize how close he was getting to the human. Before Dom it would have been a party to him, now it just made his skin crawl. "Sorry lady, this ain't Alabama and I don't know you. Like I said, taken." He reiterated and she rolled her eyes. 

"That doesn't matter with me, I am love. Can't you feel it? There's no need to worry for the humans, they're here because they want to be. They adore me." She smiled and his stomach rolled again. 

"Maybe but magical roofies don't work on me and that shit doesn't count as love. They're killing each other for you." 

"And? They're humans. What do they matter? At most they're food. Toys. You're more than that though aren't you? What are you?" 

The gun was a little too loud in the open space and Kells regretted using it as soon as he did it. The silver bullet went straight through her chest but the wound healed automatically. "I'm not obsessed with you if that's what you're asking. Sorry, Sacrifice Barbie, you're not my type." He huffed, trying to keep his cocky bravado but he was getting nervous. He didn't know what she was and he couldn't just leave. If he went back to the hotel she could follow. 

"You really don't know? Don't you feel me? I'm Aphr-" Before she could finish the word a stake appeared between her perky tits and she looked down almost in shock. Crimson started spilling from everywhere it could like some Halloween horror porn money shot and when she looked back up at him she shrieked. He took a step back when she reached for him and by the time her body hit the ground it was withered to a husk of what she'd been. She still looked back to see who'd killed her though and at what she found she whimpered. "Mitéra?" It barely sounded more than a whisper and she was gone. What had been beautiful only moments before was turning to dust at their feet. 

"You don't use guns on a god and you don't stand around chatting. Come Kells, we need to leave before the humans come outside." A familiar voice sounded as hands wrapped around his arm, tugging him back into the woods behind the house. 

The beast didn't know why he was acting like he was in shock but something was seriously wrong with him. He tried to listen to Tom's voice but he couldn't focus on anything, he felt too sick. "Did she touch you? Keliphos! Did she touch you? Fuck!" Whatever else the witch was going to scream about was lost as a red tinted darkness took over the devil's vision and knocked him out. 

🖤🩸⚰️🩸🖤

For once Dom was sleeping mostly peacefully until the calm scene of a still lake shifted and he was suddenly in the middle of a forest being stalked. He could feel eyes on him, he could hear the crunch of leaves as someone followed close behind so he let his instincts take over and he ran. Something felt wet under his feet and he slipped, landing in a puddle of blood. He could hear his name being called but the voice was one he didn't recognize. It was sultry and fake and- 

He sat up gasping for air as someone shook him awake. Most people who knew him knew better, that was only for emergencies. "Dominic! Wake the hell up, your pet beast needs you!" He finally got his eyes to focus enough and they landed on Tom. Why was Tom in his bed? His first thought was to cover the proof on his body from the good hard fuck he'd shared with his lover but then his friend's words filtered through. 

At the foot of the bed was Keliphos, he looked asleep but Dom knew better. There was something on his mouth that looked like blood but it was creeping through his body like some plant taking root. His veins were glowing the same color and it was obviously close to reaching his heart. From anxiety dreams to true panic- it didn't seem like the Hunter could catch a break. "Wha' the fuck 'appened? I fhought he was 'ere!" 

"He didn't want to leave before taking care of the hunt. I think he was trying to make you happy but you were both being stupid. How could you think it was a shapeshifter?" The witch grumbled, pulling objects out of a bag. Dom sighed in relief, Tom always had a spell or potion to fix things. He'd make it better. Whatever was wrong he could fix it.  

"It fit the bloody facts Tom. Why? Wha' was it?" He asked, trying not to whimper in his fear. He ignored his own nudity and messy state and crawled closer to his devil, pulling his head into his lap. "Wha's wrong wiv 'im?" 

"You were hunting a fucking goddess. Aphrodite. It wasn't a shapeshifter killing people and stealing their shit. She was making a cult for herself. Minute-ready snacks I suppose." Tom scoffed, making a face as if he was disgusted but thankfully he stayed on his task. "This bloody idiot had a gun with silver bullets. He shot her because he was offended for you. She-" He paused, looking up between them for a moment, his gaze seemingly surprised. "She tried to seduce him and it didn't work." 

Dom didn't know why that shocked his friend so much but he had to motion to the mason jars to get him moving again. "So wha'? Maybe she jus' weren't 'is type." The kid didn't mean to growl but he was annoyed that anyone else would attempt to touch his man. How dare she. 

Tom snorted a laugh. "That's literally what he said but neither of you understand. That was Aphrodite. The goddess of love. She's everyone's type. Her spell it-" He paused and leaned over the bed to take Dom's arm and slice his palm open. The boy hissed but he did as he was directed and held his hand over the mortar to drip blood into the herbs. "Wipe this through your- um-" The man started to say as he moved back and held out a rose petal. For the first time Dom could remember he was blushing and that told him everything he needed to know. 

Dom felt his cheeks burning to match but he did as he was told and held his lover's head up long enough to swipe the petal between his folds. He hoped enough of his slick was present but he knew so much of what was dried between his thighs was all Kells. Tom wouldn't take it by hand, instead he held the mortar up and he dropped it in. "The spell wha' Tom?" He tried to get him talking again as he watched him start to grind everything together. 

"Oh um-" The witch sighed, rolling his lip between his teeth. He didn't know how the boy he thought of as his own might take what he had to say. "On most people it makes them worship her but if the person she kisses is already-" 

"The whore kissed 'im?" Dom snapped, a rage burning through him. That… was an unexpected reaction. 

"Not the point! If the person already knows true love it's poison instead. Her kiss will kill him." Tom said simply, his silver eyes locking on Dom's and the boy swallowed hard, his heart racing and his eyes burning with angry and terrified tears. 

"Cause um… someone… someone else?" He whimpered, he felt suddenly like the child he never got to be. 

"Don't be daft boy. It doesn't work for you." He sighed, giving him a gentle loving look. 

Dom looked down at the beast on his lap. Even with the poison creeping through his skin he was beautiful, though the Hunter wished he'd open his stormcloud eyes for him. He knew they were connected, he knew there was something building between them but true love? "I don't like fairy tale bullshite Keliphos, we 'aving a talk when you wake up. 'Ow bloody dare yas make me deal wiv 'is. Fluffy fuck. Winged wanker. Gonna stab ya me'self." 

"I'm not the biggest fan either. I'm no fairy godmother." Tom huffed, handing Dom the concoction he'd created. "I hate to say it but it would work best if you fed it to him." He made a face, his nose wrinkled in annoyance. 

"Like, pour it in?"

"No, like… a bird." 

Dom glared down at his lover and took the liquid, wrinkling his nose as well as he took it like a shot and held it on his tongue. He hoped the beautiful bastard could hear his mental prayer because he was definitely cursing him out as he tilted the demon's head and opened his mouth. The rose and blood taste was overwhelming but he spit every drop between his devil's lips and did it again until the bowl was empty. When he'd finished he couldn't seem to help but press a kiss there. It was almost too hard for him to believe it would work. If true love is what fucked him up it was obviously true love that was supposed to save him. Dom didn't know if his heart even worked. Not like that at least. "Don't you dare tell 'im." He whisper hissed at his best friend and he held his partner close. He may be scared none of it was true but he didn't know what he would do if Kells didn't wake up. 

The nephalem gasped for air he didn't need as the word came back into focus. Everything ached and his mouth tasted strange but all he could scent was his omega and that soothed his fearful confusion. Strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him up into a tight hug that he returned as much as he could. For the first time in so long he felt weak and he hated it. "Babe? What- what happened? Are you okay?" 

Dom laughed through tears he didn't give permission to fall and he hid his face against the demon's neck. "You kissed someone else. Serves ya right." He teased and his lover chuckled nervously. 

"Bitch kissed me. I shot her for it." He sighed as he leaned back. He needed to see the kid, it made everything better. 

"Don't worry boys, I didn't save the day or anything. No, I certainly didn't kill the goddess and bring you back to life." Tom muttered as he cleaned up his mess and the others laughed softly as they looked to him. He knew better than to think he could keep their attention long though, they couldn't even keep their hands to themselves. 

"Thank you Tommy. Goddess? What the fuck? She said I tasted like family though. I figured she was a demon or something." Keliphos shrugged, sitting up on his own and gathering the human into his hold. He obviously had some soothing to do. Tom dropped something at his words and a mason jar shattered on the ground but it was hard to focus on anything but his crying boy. 

Tom hissed when he stepped on the broken glass. He bent down to clean it but Keliphos was already waving his hand to fix it for him and he nodded at the devil in appreciation. Hmm, he bounced back rather quickly. "No matter, she was trying to seduce you. We don't need to worry about all that." He tried to soothe, hoping they were too wrapped up in each other to worry about it. "Besides, she's dead now. I'm sure it was just a ruse but I think the two of you should come stay with me while we work on finding the Colt." 

Kells could tell Tom was trying to change the subject but since the guy just saved his life he didn't want to push. Besides, that was exactly what he'd been thinking anyway. "That might be nice, rest a few days and get our plans together. That okay with you Domie?" 

Dom arched a brow as he looked between the only two supernatural creatures he would protect at all costs. The only two that made him question hunting altogether. He could tell something was going on but his thoughts were too busy with everything that had just happened. Kells was alive. Kells had woken up because he… because… they shared- but he couldn't look at it too closely yet. Maybe a few days to relax would be good for both of them. "Long as you don't sneak out again. Sounds good." He smiled, kissing his devil's cheek. 

"You're not sharing a bedroom." The witch vowed and they both made a noise of protest. "Fine, but it's getting seriously soundproofed. If I find you fucking anywhere outside of it I will hex you both!" He added but the boys just giggled like the children they were. Maybe it would be nice to have company for a while. After all, maybe they were truly his family. 

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 🖤

I'm not tagging MF hate because it's not explicitly stated but... you knew I'm sure 😉 I hope you all enjoyed a little hunting chapter. Why did Aphrodite call him family? What does Tom know that he's hiding? Why did she say that when she died? Are the boys finally going to admit they love each other? Keep reading to find out! I hope you're loving it ⚰️🖤

#yungblud #dominic harrison #dom harrison #machine gun kelly #mgk #colson baker #dom and colson #dom and colson fic #dom x colson #dom x colson fic #yungblud and machine gun kelly #yungblud x machine gun kelly fic #com #com fics #domson #domson fics #my fics #jinx fics #abo #alpha beta omega #supernatural inspired #demon kells #hunter dom #death #hunting #case fic #tom saves the day #boys in love

[hermitdrabbles56]

Caffeine Shots

No beta no read over no nothing here we fucking go. Hyrule after downing WAY to much fucking caffeine because you can not convince me that stamina elixirs aren't just artificial expresso shots. Or a monster mixed with a five hour energy

@whatcouldpossiblyg0wr0ng

Warriors world officially sucked worse than his own. Apparently since their last visit a rip in time had grown unstable and split into his Hyrule. Again. In fact it was through that rip that they'd gotten there! From Hyrules world! The event leaving half of his castle town displaced into a battlefield where further rips had monsters from his world spilling out like a rapidly drowning boat. 

So here he was. 3am. Desperately trying to help the nurses hold soldiers together that had ran into battle with no plan in an attempt to get ahead of things. 

He'd been using his magic since noon and very barely managing to keep on his feet with the magic potions Legend had been trying to keep in stock. The veteran in question currently unconscious after having drained his own magic supply taking out a mob that had tried to attack the base a couple hours ago. 

Four was down, the fall through time having been like a portal jump from hell leaving him disoriented enough he can't string a sentence together. So he was actually curled up with Legend. And the others were all out still fighting. 

Even if he wanted to, he couldn't sleep. He wants to be here for them when they get back..he needs to know if they're okay. 

Letting out a heavy sigh he reaches a shaky hand into his pouch and pulls out yet another stamina elixir from Wild. Popping the cork and slamming it down all in one go. 

With the barest hints of sunlight comes another round of potions. He can't even taste the nasty alchemical solutions anymore after having so many. And his stomach feels like he drank lizalfo acid, but that doesn't matter. As the dawn also brings the Fierce Deity carrying an unconscious Warrior's and a very out of sorts Wind. Quickly followed by Wild who frantically looks like he blew himself up a couple dozen times. 

So he slams an extra magic potion for good measure before rushing over to them. 

By noon there's a buzzing sensation washing over his skin. It's too hot in the tent with all the injured bodies, it's too hot outside because of the summer sun. So he spends three hours in a fitful sleep that's more akin to him forcefully holding his eyes closed before he gives up. Dragging himself back onto his feet and over to where Wild had been brewing potions since returning to base. 

The champion is gone now. And it looks like Legend is on his feet and gone. So it's just the captain and the sailor curled up with four in the nest of bedrolls and pillows they'd built in the corner of the tent. Warrior's looks like he still needs healing. So, Hyrule grabs up a couple red potions and uncorks another stamina elixir before heading over to do just that. 

 

A couple hours later and Warrior's has gone back out too fight. Wind is looking after Four who is slowly starting to comprehend things again. And Hyrule has no idea how long he's been staring at the two trying to put together one of Legends puzzles before a gentle hand is placed on his back. 

Just one of the nurses, he couldn't tell you who given that everyone is kind of blurring together. And maybe swimming a bit. But who ever it is places a hot cup of something warm and bitter in his hand. Pointing off to the back of one of the tent to let him know there's more if needed. 

Takes him a moment to realize it's coffee. Straight black coffee, so hot that it almost burns. Or maybe it does. Either way it's sharp enough to cut through the groggy fog in his head. So he has a couple more and somewhat manages to choke down some bread. 

One more hour, and that buzz won't stop. It's maybe gotten worse. And he's maybe on his tenth cup of coffee. And he maybe can't remember which way is north. Or were the exit is. 

For once he's thankful for having an iron stomach because otherwise he's fairly certain the burning roil in it would have made someone else throw up. But the time to dwell on that ends when Twilight comes in with an unconscious Time hoisted up onto his back. And Sky passed out on Epona. 

So, for a quick moment he sets down his half empty coffee mug. Uncorks and dumps the next round of potions into it. Then chugs the whole thing before stumbling off to help.

Thankfully it wasn't anything serious. Or was it serious? He can't remember because everyone looks too fucked up at the moment. 

"-Link?" 

Something touches his shoulder. Just a light careful little touch but it startles a yelp out of him. His head snapping up so quickly the world spins on its access and oh, he's falling. 

No wait.

He's not falling? 

Two big arms catch him. Least he thinks they do, he can't tell. That buzzing makes it really hard to feel. 

"Woah woah…easy there traveler." Twilight murmurs as he carefully sets Hyrule back on his feet. "You okay? You're shaking like a leaf."  

A small nervous sounding laugh comes rattling out of Hyrule before he can even attempt to think. "Hehe I think my heart just stopped? Oh hey..when did it get dark?" 

"YOU THINK WHAT?!" 

"Chillio dog boy it's fine." 

"The fuck it ain't." Twilight huffs before insistently places strong fingers against the vein on Hyrules wrist. "Oh- sweet mother of Faron..that's…that's not normal." 

"Normal? You really think my death would be fucking normal?" 

"Your heart didn't stop, you're not dying….least not yet. But this certainly explains why I thought I was hearing it from ten feet away. It's racing faster than a hummingbird." 

"Mmm f-fairies works really similrat to humming hits hits h..ummin birbs it's berry hard for us to sit sit still." 

For a moment Hyrule stops to try and process what just left his mouth. Shaking his head a bit to try and clear it. Which must have been a bad ideas see as he definitely wakes up on the ground this time. Night sky spiraling above him. 

"Deep breaths buddy..you're okay…" Twilight murmurs again as he leans into view. 

Smacking his lips a bit Hyrule blinks slightly. "My mouth feels fummy…." 

"Yeahh…yeah you just threw up. Like a lot. What the fuck have you been drinking?" 

"Things!" 

Twilight levels him with his best impression of the stare. "What things?" 

"Uhhhhhhhh…last thing was a coffee with two stamina ichsers..and…gren….it's was all very gren…" 

"Dins tits no fucking wonder. How many of those have you had??" Twilight questions. 

Hyrule stares at his hands and he swears has a few more that usual. All the extra fingers making it a little difficult to count. 

"Mmn…a number?" 

"How long have you been awake..?" 

"When the fuck did we get here?" 

"Okay….let's..let's get you some water and make sure you don't have a fucking heart attack." Twilight says with a stressed whine as he carefully scoops the shaking fairy boy up. 

"Nuuu!!! I need to…what the fuck was I doing…?"

"You've been staring into space for the past two hours what you need is to be knocked unconscious." 

"Fuck." 

#hermit writes #lu hyrule #lu twilight #everyone's fucked but this is mainly about hyrule and his caffine addiction #absolutely nothing about this is medically accurate #fairy!hyrule #linked universe #i couldnt think of anyway to do this related to the update #i wsnted sheer crack so i created the worst situation possible instead

[chi-ow-hua]

tw: intrusive thoughts, compulsion stuff (but like, mental health, not magic), ableism, mentions of drugs and addiction

Will, as most of the people who bother to unmask his easygoing persona will gladly tell you, is a bit of a control freak.

He doesn't actually know what drugs feel like. He knows Michael used to smoke weed with the Stolls sometimes. "Only way to deal with all these suicidal fuckheads" he'd grumble when Will glared at him in disapproval. But that was always away from the rest of camp and also not a very regular occurence. Will knows that because he started secretly going through Michael's dirty laundry after he caught him the first time, and Mike was always very bad at hiding the smell. (He managed to hold himself back from doing the same for the Stolls, though. He can justify it to himself if it's his own siblings; but elder teens from another cabin he barely talks to? That would just be deranged behavior.)

Will has never partaken in hard drugs or known someone who does. He has never experienced addiction, or met anyone suffering from one. Not as far as he knows, anyways. He can reluctantly admit that his paranoia regarding addiction probably borders on irrational. He knows a huge number of campers were not very happy at the abrupt decline of drugs and medication in the infirmary after the mantle of head medic got thrust upon him - including his own siblings, who know he would rather spend more energy than necessary on his healing than just sucking it up and prescribing some fucking advil.

But he looks at the neatly labeled opioids and over-the-counter drugs and all he can think about is schizophrenia and apoplexy and overdosing. Besides, Chiron seemed very happy with Will's new policy. "It will save us so much money" he'd muttered in utter delight, and Will realized he'd never thought much about how camp financed itself. He'd assumed the gods just... created money. Or something. But he should've figured that anything even resembling child support would have them hightailing in the opposite direction.

The drugs are locked away in a cabinet. Will used to have the only key. Upon severe complaints from his cabin and multiple attempted heists, he reluctantly gave Chiron the backup. He tries not to think about Austin's disappointment when he refused to give it to him. It had been a silent plea for trust, and Will is ashamed to say that he can't. Not when it comes to this.

Will knows that his siblings would never do anything. They are reliable and responsible and have endured too many lectures to ever be this stupid. He knows very well that they would never abuse of the cabinet, because he actively reminds himself of that fact every time he sees Kayla pale and trembling and with vomit stains on her camp shirt or Gracie so gaunt you can count every single one of her tiny ribs. Images that are not real and could never be real because they are all smart and responsible and reliable and would never abuse of the cabinet.

He still doesn't give them a key, though.

For all that will can't stop thinking about morphine and oxycodone and hydrocodone, he doesn't feel any desire to try them. The problem isn't him. It's the others. Because they hear the words but they don't know them. Not like Will does. They don't understand it, don't see the risks, don't feel the symptoms, don't see their siblings. Will knows better, and it is his duty as head medic to protect them. "i will give no deadly medicine to any one if asked, nor suggest any such counsel". Will tried to make the rest of his cabin learn the hippocratic oath too, but was severely outlaughed and outvoted. "You aren't even old enough to go to uni", as if that made a difference. Maybe Will isn't a doctor in the traditional sense, but he is the closest thing camp has.

Everyone can get caught up in an addiction, Will knows that all too well. Especially if you think that you are immune somehow, stronger than your own biology. No one is. Will knows that. Just as he knows that he will not become an addict because he knows better and has never once used the key always hanging around his neck. Another pearl, another year without an overdose. Maybe he is a control freak, maybe it would make things easier for everyone involved, maybe he knows that there must be something wrong with him, but maybe he is also saving his fellow campers lives. Maybe doing anything else would rob him his sleep, even more than it already does. "Its patronizing", Kayla said quietly. She is always loud, except when she is really angry. But maybe there is nothing wrong with his urge to protect. Why should she know better than him, anyways?!

The acetone and disinfectant are locked in a different cabinet. Everyone has a key for that one, because they are always in demand. "Why", tired and confused and annoyed and not actually expecting an answer. "There's a precedent" had been his non-answer, doing exactly as they'd known he would. Will can only use the disinfectant that is already in the dispenser. He threw his own key into the lake, one of the times he'd volunteered to care for their overnight patients on his own. (He knows he has the only key besides chiron, but it's better to be safe than sorry.) The patients were sleeping. The key had been on his necklace, tinkling along with the other, and then the bottle of desinfectant had been in his hand. He'd managed to put it back. Then he had run towards the shore before he could change his mind. He felt the splash in his bones, imagined it sinking into the depths of the lake. Hoped it stayed gone forever while simultaneously having to hold himself back from jumping in after it. Will couldn't become addicted, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

There was no reasonable way to lock away the soap in the bathroom. That was okay, though. He was used to staring, and most of the time he managed to wash the foam down the drain.

Will is in Nico's cabin, waiting for the other to return from the arena. He knows it's a privilege. Nico doesn't like his cabin. Nico really doesn't like people being in his cabin, especially without him. He keeps threatening to reform and redecorate, but always finds an excuse not to go through with it in the end. Will is starting to think that that is by design. It makes him a bit sad to think about. Of course Nico would also have his idiosyncrasies, being a child of the big three, but it's still painful. He wishes he could do something to make it better. Will still looks forward to their potential ikea trip whenever Nico mentions it.

Nico trusts Will. Or at least he hasn't invited anyone else to hang out in his cabin besides Reyna, Jason and his sister, which has to count for something. He stares at the pile of laundry - all black, except for one obnoxious yellow sweater he'd stolen from Will. Will hadn't asked for it back, even though it was soft and comforting and had been a gift to him from his mom. He'd always taken it off before performing any medical procedures - something he stopped bothering with for the rest of his clothes - meaning it was miraculously blood-free. He remembers being a bit surprised when Nico had clung onto this one, out of everything. Normally he tended towards the goriest ones. Said the stains were necessary in order not to clash with his aesthetic.

Nico prefers to keep to himself, values his personal space and his privacy. But Will looks and can't stop staring. Deranged, he remembers thinking. He'd barely been able to justify it when doing it to his brother. Doing it to anyone else would be-. Especially to Nico. Nico, who trusted him to stay alone in his cabin. Nico, who was one of the few campers to never ask for something to relieve the pain. Werewolf scratches were known to be particularly painful. Why had he never asked? (wouldn't he be doing him a favor? "into whatever houses i enter, i will go into them for the benefit of the sick")

Will, as most of the people who bother to unmask his easygoing persona will gladly tell you, is a bit of a control freak. He tries to tell himself that it isn't wrong. Tries to convince himself that it is, that there is nothing he could say or think that could justify it. Deranged. Will thinks he hears steps approaching and launches himself onto Nico's bed, where he'd been sitting before. The laundry pile - in even more disarray than before - glares disapprovingly. Only way to deal with it, he says. I'm doing it for nico, he begs to himself. Then why are you trying to hide it, his mind answers. Will tries to look away from the pile, but can't stop his eyes from glancing back.

"I'm gonna shower real quick, okay?" Nico, opening the door. "Have fun", Will answers, actively not looking at the laundry. And then, because he loves the nonsensical shot of adrenaline and superiority it gives him, "I see you found my sweater. You know, the one that mysteriously disappeared last week."

He holds his breath. Will doesn't know what he was expecting, but Nico doesn't deliver. Barely even glances at the pile. "I was literally wearing it yesterday, Solace. I know you know it. You were there." And then he rolls his eyes and disappears behind the bathroom door. And Will suppresses the urge to follow him inside and eat his soap.

#how do you even tag this #there is definitely some compulsion and intrusive thoughts going on here #not superiority complex not inferiority complex but a secret third thing #and anxiety. definitely some of that too. #tw drugs #tw ableism #let me know if there is anything important i forgot to tag? #does drinking disinfectant count as sh?? #will solace #solangelo #this was supposed to be about SAD??? #not main tagging nico cuz dude barely even appears

[creaturefeaster]

How did Tanner, April & Leon all meet & get together?

Oooh okay they've got a pretty specific background, lemme get into it. This is a long one.

Their backstories have been juggled around a lot the last few years, so to anyone who knows them deeply-- this is their definitive story. At least I'd like to think it is.

So Tanner and April have known each other for most of their lives. They both grew up outside of Lystrike, a couple of hours off aways in a more populated (though still rather rinky-dink) town.

They were pretty close growing up, sharing the same taste in music and movies, similar hobbies, etc. April often pulled Tanner out of his comfort zone getting them into trouble now and then, but in turn Tanner tended to keep April's rambunctious tendencies from getting too extreme.

As for Leon, he was born and raised in Lystrike. It's a very boring town growing up, because there'd be like. Maybe 5 other kids close to his age and none of them he could really click with. He's a social butterfly for sure, but there was no real connection with many people his age in town.

Leon wouldn't meet April and Tanner until he reached his teens; His father would take the time to drive him out to the closest big town's fall festival one year, which happened to be in April and Tanner's hometown. They'd all be around 14 or 15 at this point.

Now, around this point, April was more withdrawn than normal. She was going through a lot at the time and wouldn't go out very much. Tanner's family would take him to the festival by chance the same day Leon's dad took him, but April would miss their initial encounter.

Even in their slightly more populated hometown, it's very obvious when someone out of town is visiting. Especially someone of a similar age. Thus, Tanner without his close friend and Leon the socialite he is looking to find people to connect with while he had the chance, it was bound to be that they'd meet each other.

Tanner is not much of a talker, especially not to strangers, but Leon with his funny quirks and his desire for friendship made their initial meet up feel rather natural. They would click pretty well, even if Leon did most of the talking. Tanner would spend a couple of hours directing him to the best parts of the festival, as he knew this yearly occasion like the back of his hand.

It was only a two or three hour connection before Leon had to go, but it would make Leon's whole week! Even if he had no real way of maintaining contact with Tanner, he'd say he'd love to come back next year. Leon is definitely someone Tanner would remember come time for the next festival to take place.

That encounter by itself wouldn't be notable enough to tell April about it, but the next fall when April had time to come out of her slum, she would be there alongside Tanner at the festival once more. Tanner, remembering Leon, would go pretty much every day with April while the festival was around (which spanned a week.) And sure enough Leon would be there again :3!

All three would be together for the first time. April would love his energy, and the fact that Leon took to her bluntless rather gracefully, which is usually a hard hump for many to get over.

Leon this time would have a shitty little cellphone device that he would use to keep in contact with Tanner and April after he inevitably had to leave.

Their initial friendship would be sparse. For a couple of years it'd be mostly Leon prompting calls every now and then, when the timing was right and the service was clear. Yes, even in a world full of magic, cell service still manages to suck out in the middle of nowhere u_u.

As they all approached their 20's though, things between them picked up more and more. Leon couldn't leave town for festivals any longer due to his father's poor health, so he'd call more often. April would become fed up with her home life, and spend a lot of time trying to convince Tanner to drive them out of town for road trips. He would oblige once, and they would make plans to go on a drive to Lystrike where Leon resides.

It feels far from home to April, and she loves it. She is more occupied by the location than she is with Leon or even Tanner, so a lot of hanging out during this time tends to exclude April. This is kind of a reoccurring theme with her, as they decide to visit Leon a few more times afterwards.

Eventually, fate would find that Leon's father would pass away, and his mother had already been deceased for some time, and so he was kind of left by his lonesome but with a house now in his name.

Ape and Tanner would later go down to visit to make things a little less lonely for him. April would be the first to suggest that maybe, they could all live together. She wants out of her house, loves this weird little town, and feels happier here overall. Leon is honestly totally down, butttttt. Tanner isn't as sure.

Now at this time, Tanner and April have been in an on and off relationship of sorts, so it's hard for him to choose what he wants here. He has a fine life back in town, but he knows how much April dislikes it there. But out here, it's so isolated and barren and he isn't sure if that's what he wants in life. Plus, what sorts of jobs could he even take around here that he'd be happy with?

Funny enough though, the helping factor in this is actually Frigus. He does tag along with them when they go to meet Leon pretty often. He would be the one to mention the old job board in the middle of town has had a listing for a job very in line with Tanner's interests. Which would be hunting, more specifically the job would be population control.

It'd take a lot more convincing from all angles, but Tanner eventually caves, and decides fuck it, why not. The bills are cheap, the house is already paid in full and Leon isn't going to be able to use a 2 bedroom + basement house to it's fullest. So again, why not?

...And so the occasional visitors would eventually become permanent residents of Lystrike! April can feel like herself here, Leon is no longer lonely, and Tanner gets to do work he enjoys. Plus, they all go on road trips to shitty concerts and other events on the occasion, when the quiet town of Lystrike gets a little too boring.

That's their story.

#brambleramble

[advernia]

starter tapestry || 3 sentences: ruggie bucchi + memories of home.

It's a patchwork to behold, the last piece in the basket to go up the clothesline: for instance, on one end there's a spread of cotton then on the other there's linen, a splash of orange on the center then suddenly hints of brown and red on the edges, polka dots lonely on a corner but pinstripes scattered here and there. The stitches holding every piece of cloth together had the assorted nature to them, too: they ran, crossed, locked; formed whips and slips, chains and stems. Though as odd as the whole thing looked, Ruggie picks it up with a warm grin and gentle hands, spreading the flower-scented bedsheet out and hanging it on the line with care; a kind of care that was reserved only for the few items he could proudly call his own.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ruggie bucchi #3sen #inspired from his lab coat card??? definitely #also from his backstory... you cannot convince me that his grandma + neighborhood kids did not give him some parting gift... #though reading said card i've been wondering why ruggie does laundry manually instead of using magic #maybe using magic spends more of his energy than he'd like??? i mean yeah hurrah for convenience but #as a practical person i'd think ruggie would find more value in spending that energy elsewhere #depending on the task physical labor doesn't affect his stamina much but magic... #since he's still technically learning maybe his control is a work in progress #lol that's all hypothetical but alternatively: ruggie's way too used to doing things by himself that he forgets he can do magic lmao

[starshipsofstarlord]

Stuck in 1903

Part Two

Masterlist

Summary: Damon and Bonnie had come to your rescue, or so you thought, but it is Kai’s every intention to get close to you again

Pairing: Kai Parker x reader

Warnings: angst, smidge of fluff, mentions of smut, mentions of death, mentions of murder, bad friendships, mentions of poison, swearing

Word Count: 2052

Find Part One Here

divider by @firefly-graphics

If the Other Side continued to exist, then you would be there rather than this subordinate prison world which had been designed for one bad witch. Kai's own kind feared him, you had experienced him mentally draining your energy, he was a chore to put up with, but he could do much more than that, you had learnt from Bonnie. He fed off magic, physically stealing it from bodies and items that harboured any of it, which had poisoned his mind to hunt for power. Your friends had informed you that he had murdered his siblings, well some of them anyway, and had attempted to do so to more of them. And now you knew, with supporting evidence, never to trust Malakai Parker.

Without Damon and Bonnie you had to resort to fending for yourself, which was not at all difficult since this version of Mystic Falls that you were trapped in was quite literally a ghost town. The forever enveloping silence was torture, though the method of ignorance had not been designed for you; it was all for Kai, and that unsettled you. There was one more thing that you had been dreading - the possibility that you could not escape from the remote isolation without the aid of the guest starring siphon himself. This hell was built to contain him for eternity, but now there was magic that he could use to his own advantage nearby.

Your cheek rested upon the side of your hand, mushing the flesh whilst your elbow was poised upon the countertop of the kitchen island in the Salvatore house. All of your concentration validated your deep thoughts, of which you were broken from as a plate was placed directly in front of you, a pancake decorated with chocolate chips and syrup to form a smiley face. Damon was the culprit as he threw a tea towel over his shoulder, expectedly looking at you.

"I'm not hungry." You informed the vampire, who simply frowned at your lack of an appetite. "I ate yesterday, which was technically today." Beneath the table, you crossed your ankles, as you earnt a sigh from your well aged friend; he clearly was not impressed by your behaviour. But you didn't know what he had expected from you, you had been trapped here for longer than you could remember, and alone until you had discovered the man that had been outcast by his own family. At the time you had not known of his murderous tendencies, and had wanted nothing more than to get away from him, and you wouldn't like to admit it but you even missed him a little.

He was annoying and cocky, and withheld crucial information from you, though there was something that contradicted that all. Whenever any one of your friends had suffered the fate of death, they were always attempted to be brought back to life against the natural order of things. It made you wonder and doubt a little if they had even tried to resurrect you. In this separated reality, there was no jurisdiction so that you could know, though each time that either Damon or Bonnie looked at you, you could swear that there was guilt written in their gazes.

"Look I knew being stuck here with Kai must have fucked you up-" he should have bit his lip, his assumptions were anything but correct. And that was proven as you defensively darted out of your seat and jabbed your finger in his face, making him pivot his jaw back. There were many things that were 'fucked up', and supposing that you were one of them because you had died after sacrificing yourself to ensure that they all continued to live just didn't settle right with you. The context of the morbid situation did not help with condoning any reassurance at all, in fact, it gave a spine to your lack of faith in him and the others in the first place. Out of everyone, it was inherently worse to be here with Damon, all he had cared about was his precious Elena as well as himself, and after existing for well over a century, that was insurance that he was never going to change.

"It wasn't him who did that to me, it was roaming this damned place by myself, I had no one. And as crazy as it sounds, I think spending time with the notorious Malakai Parker helped me keep what was to spare of my sanity. If I'm not wrong, I may even say that I've found more being here than dealing with the bullshit y'all cause back home." Perhaps your words were a tad harsh, if Bonnie were in the room you were sure that she'd have a somewhat understanding of what you were saying. Though she was not, and thus you had to deal with the harshness of her best friend all by your lonesome. And it seemed that you had rattled him, apparently he couldn't handle the truth.

"Then why don't you run back to the sociopath? When we discovered that you were here, we found the pair of you attached to the hip anyways. And with him inside of you, I'd never seen you so darn happy, better here with him than tempting me to drink bleach from the way that you constantly complained when you were alive; I swear you were worse than Donovan." It was on your mind's own command for you to take a step back, and away from the toxin that Damon had so cruelly spat at you. Ans the way that he compared you to Matt made you angry; it was though he were ignoring that there were valid reasons for the blond to be the way that he was - after all, the monster before you had practically killed his sister. A laugh renegaded out from your mouth as you realised that you had been right all along, none of them cared. You were just a burden that stopped them from having a perfect life together. If this were a book, then this would be the beginning to your villain arc, and ironically enough Damon saw himself as one of the good guys. Now that was utterly ridiculous after every reckless thing that he had ever done!

"Have it your way then bloodsucker." All along, you should have trusted your guy, and from now on you knew that you would listen to it. And strangely enough, it was calling you to Kai, maybe it was because he was your last resort to escaping this imprisonment that had been meant for him alone. Turning on your heel, you heard Damon flop the towel down on the side and sigh, though you continued to walk, appeasing your better judgement elsewhere. "Wait." He tried to convince you to stay, belatedly understanding the mistake that he had made, but it was no use, you were already on your journey of getting as far away as possible from him.

The Mystic Grill, it remained to be familiar in your eyes as you entered. It was empty and void of drunken assholes and narcissists that you had wasted too much time on. The only person that you missed in the modern alternative was Matt Donovan, he was the only person that didn't treat you as though you were invisible or a nuisance. You wondered how he was coping with your absence, knowing him, he was probably relieved that Damon was gone. But you weren't, because he was here with you instead. Trailing your fingertips over the counter of the bar, out of the corner of your eye you saw a lonely glass of bourbon that was sat there as though it were lamenting you with mockery. You tried to hold your sentimental sob inside, but it was practically impossible. It tore through your body, bellowing out from your mouth as you stifled and fought through your tears.

A hand caressed the landscape of your back causing you to jump and flinch from the unexpected contact. One thing that you had learnt from evading and eventually experiencing the qualms of death, was that you could never be too careful. For no more than a second you had predicted that the intruder to your pity party was Damon, that he had followed you as you tried to distance yourself from him, but alas it was not, instead of being greeted by a fretless vampire, you were condemned by the sight of a powerless witch, of whom had purposely interjected your moment of cracked emotion and wore a brave smile for you. Wiping your eyes with the back of your sleeves, you couldn't help but snap at him. "If you're here to finish what we started then tough luck Parker, you've been here long enough and you have two hands, figure something else out."

His tongue darted out to swipe at his own bottom lip, as he raised his hand, showcasing his offering to you. "I was only going to see if you wanted a pork rind, you look like you could use one." Sighing, you dug your hand into the pungent packet that was littered with dust and crumbs, retrieving a few treats for yourself as you placed them in your mouth. "And now should be when the poison kicks in..." With your hand, you gave him a little shove as you tolled your eyes at his homicidal comedy. "Come on, that was funny! I'm funny!"

"If you say so, there's not very many people around to give you an honest opinion." It was true, the only other human like lifeforms impartially close by were Damon and Bonnie, and well, you weren't going to scurry back to them anytime soon. "And if you had poisoned me, then you would know that I would be fine and dandy in not so long, It wouldn't make a difference if that wasn't the case either, I mean I'm already dead, what could be worse than that?" Kai looked at you with shock; he didn't know that about you, that you had actually suffered a final breath. Now he thought about it, the grand scheme of things he didn't know much about you in general, though he was prepared to learn. He had often found death to be fulfilling, satisfying even, but he'd never thought about its victims being so beautiful. Yet here you were before him, by chance the one force that could motivate and help him find a way out of this jarring hole of reaping misery.

"You're here, that's all that matters." As soon as those words fled from his lips he realised exactly what he had said, and a blush framed his features. "I um - that wasn't what I - you know, yeah..." He scratched the back of his neck as you shook your head at this new side that you were seeing of Malakai. His parents called him Malakai, of course he was going to become a killer, but right now you saw nothing more than an embarrassed boy whose skin had flushed as an affect of his own words. From your experience, everyone was either the killer or the killed - you two were one of each. Like ying and yang, you fit perfectly, it was a balanced divide that was settled on whichever rhythm played out in the air. And to correspond with that thought you walked over to the jukebox, a song beginning to play which made Kai want to cover his ears. "I hate this song." He told you; he really did, if he could murder it, he would without a doubt.

"Then don't listen, just dance with me." You extended your hands out to him, to which he begrudgingly reached for. And as he snapped his eyes open, he realised that was all a memory, and that goddamn song was still playing. All he could think about was you, he had seen how upset you had been to die, and yet you were gone again, and it was all down to your so called friends. One was standing before him as he sat in chains, imprisoned against a chair. "Are you here to punish me?" He asked Bonnie, wanting nothing more than shut his eyes and see your face again.

#kai parker one shot #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #kai x y/n #kai x you #kai imagine #kai parker x you #kai parker #kai parker fic #kai parker fanfic #kai parker angst #kai parker fluff #tvdreader #tvd imagines #tvdimagine #tvd imagine #tvd one shot #tvd fanfiction #tvd x reader #vampire diaries x reader

[nashibirne]

Where The Wild Roses Grow - An August Walker Story

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Fern) Summary: Don't screw the crew? This doesn't work for August Walker Warnings: Smut, Sex, 18+, NSFW, unprotected sex, oral sex mentioned, kinda soft August This is kinda AU, because August survived the events of MI:Fallout Unbeta'ed! English is not my mother tongue, so consider yourself warned Disclaimer: I don't own August Walker (but he owns me...) Credits: Pics for the header from Pinterest

A big thank you to the wonderful @legendarywizarddetective Honey, thanks for your support, your advice and your opinion. You have no idea, how much I appreciate your help <3 xxx

tag list: @lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @madbaddic7ed @artandotherdelights

You can find the next parts and my other fics on my Masterlist

~~~~~

Chapter 1

Fern

I'm bent over my desk, still recovering from my orgasm, while August is railing me hard from behind to reach his own climax. It doesn't take him long. He comes with a suppressed growl that turns into a satisfied moan slowly. As usual he pulls out right after, gives me a playful slap on my naked butt and stuffs his dick back into his pants with a smug smile.

He never undresses to fuck me and he never asks me to get naked. He just hitches up my skirt or dress, pulls my panties out of the way and enters my pussy with his fingers, his tongue or his dick. My clothes have turned into some kind of code with time. If I wear trousers I know he won't touch me, so if I choose to wear a pair of jeans it's my way to say no. If I wear a skirt or a dress he knows he can have me if he wants to. It doesn't happen every day or on a regular basis, sometimes we fuck five days in a row and sometimes we don't for two weeks and that's part of its charm.

Whenever it happens, it is always quick and dirty and pretty good. Sure, there's no tenderness, no cuddling, hardly any kissing but it still is great sex. Satisfying and uncomplicated, no strings attached. I never thought I could enjoy physical love without being emotionally involved, but with August it works somehow. I don't even know how it happened, can hardly tell how this started. 

I used to work at the CIA as a team assistant, he was THE notorious agent, August "The Hammer" Walker, effective, discreet, intimidating, mysterious, larger-than-life. Yeah, I know, this alone sounds sexy as hell and you haven't even seen him. Tall, broad shouldered, dark hair, blue eyes, face like an angel but his signature mustache and the three-days-stubble giving it a dangerous touch. We got along quite well but it was all strictly professional back then. He always kept a distance, not only from me but from everyone and I knew he was well out of my league anyway, even if we hadn't worked together. 

After the disaster with Ethan Hunt I was shocked, devastated even, because I'd never expected him to be a traitor and I was sure I'd seen the last of him after the events in Kashmir. To my big surprise he contacted me a few weeks after. He had somehow survived the fight with Hunt and the explosion and bailed himself out of this mess. I still don't know how he made it, what or who he sold to the government but it must have been a huge deal because they cleared his record and he was free to do whatever he wanted under one condition, he had to leave the country. He chose to make a fresh start in London and to set up a cyber security business with a partner. This partner is Peter Brooks, who is an ex-hacker August knows from some CIA investigations, and they are the perfect team -August sells security, Peter programs it, August is responsible for the hardware, Pete for the software. And a good team needs a team assistant and that was the point where I got involved.

I don't know why he asked me of all people, maybe because he knew I was unattached and because we had already proven that we worked together well. I asked him several times for his reasons but he always shrugged it off. I was hesitant about taking his offer, of course I was, I didn't trust him anymore, he had been public enemy number one and to be honest I was scared. I was afraid of him, of what he could be up to, of the potential for violence he was radiating and his criminal energy in general, but he offered me lots of money, a wonderful apartment in Shoreditch and he promised me that he would never expose me to any kind of danger, that he'd changed and that I would never have to do something illegal for him. I believed him, mostly because I wanted to. I was desperate to add a little adventure to my boring existence and earning much more than an average assistant plus living in one of the greatest cities in the world seemed to be an attractive prospect. Up to now I haven't regretted my decision.

August has kept his word. There are no signs that the company is involved in any illegal deals and as far as I know he is not scheming or hiding something. Actually I'm quite sure of that because we all know that the federal authorities keep a close eye on him and his little business. Moreover we've got to know each other quite well and I imagine that I would know if he was hiding something from me. Maybe I would, maybe it's just wishful thinking but I tend to say that I can judge him quite well by now. That's not surprising actually, considering how much time we spend together, 12 to 16 hours a day, five to six days a week.

How did the sex thing begin you ask? I don't really know. Maybe it was the glances he started to give me, the attention I wasn't used to. I just started to feel good around him, sexy and wanted. Of course it's flattering that a handsome man like him shows interest in someone like me, even if it's just physical.

I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one. He travels a lot, is away for days or weeks sometimes and I know he doesn't end up lonely in his hotel room every night. But we have kind of a don't-ask-don't-tell-policy and I'm fine with it.

The first time we fucked was a good year ago and 9 months after I came to London to work for Walker & Brooks SecTec. I wore one of my summer dresses, dark blue with white dots, plain but cute, and August complimented me on my outfit several times that day. He had never done this before. When I was just about to leave he suddenly stood in the doorway of my office and looked at me with a feral grin that gave me goosebumps. "What?" I asked him with a frown. 

"Nothing. It's just...you better not wear that dress again at work." His grin turned into a smirk. 

"Why? You said you like it." I looked down at my body, feeling self-conscious all of the sudden. 

"Right. I like it a little too much, Fern." 

I gave him a sheepish smile. "What's that supposed to mean?" He came closer, standing right in front of me now. 

"It means you look so delicious in that dress, you're giving me a hard time trying to control myself around you." 

I was speechless in that moment and pretty sure that he was making fun of me. In my whole life there hadn't been a single man that had problems with his self control around me. I'm just not the kind of woman that drives a guy out of his mind.

"That's not funny."

"It's not supposed to be funny. I'm serious."

He looked me deep in the eyes, his face was just inches away from mine. Suddenly he grabbed me by my waist and spinned me around, pulling me close to him. "Your ass is so juicy in that dress, your waist so small, your breasts so beautiful, I just can't stop thinking about touching you." He whispered all this into my ear and then I felt his lips on my neck. They brushed the sensitive flesh just lightly. He did nothing more for a moment, and I knew he hesitated to give me a chance to turn him down, to say no to him. I didn't. I said yes that day. I let him kiss my neck. I let him squeeze my ass. I let him caress my tits. I turned around and kissed him and I moaned into his mouth under his touch. I felt how hard he was, how much he wanted me and it was the greatest turn-on. All the dirty things he told me, the magic his skilled hands worked on my body, the sexual energy and the dominance he was radiating from every pore - I was putty in his hands, willing to give him everything...everything I had craved since I'd moved here. I was touch starved, there hadn't been a single date or something because my whole life was like eat-work-sleep-repeat. He fucked me on my desk that day. Standing between my legs -my dress hitched up, my panties lying in the corner of the room- he thrust his big dick into my needy pussy with force and without mercy, giving me one of the most intense orgasms of my life.

***

August

Fern. I know she hates her name, but if you ask me, it's beautiful. Old fashioned in a good way, special, innocent and very pretty. Just like the woman who bears it. You wonder if that's the reason why I asked her to work for me? Because she's so pretty with her long honeyblond hair and the big brown eyes? You think I hired her because I wanted to fuck her right from the start? I'm sorry to disappoint you but you're wrong. I didn't see her that way in the beginning. 

When we worked together for the CIA she was in a relationship anyway. We never talked about it, it was all strictly professional back then, but she had this picture of a guy on her desk, a good looking man with a boyish smile and the aura of an intellectual snob. Eventually the picture vanished and wasn't replaced by a new one so I assumed she was unattached, which was one reason I considered her to be suitable. But the main reason was that she is simply very good at her job. Of all the assistants we had she was the best organized and structured one, she is smart and her quickness is extraordinary. She's friendly and sociable but most of all she is loyal and has integrity. In the old days you'd called her virtuous and that was exactly what I was looking for.

I knew to start a new life, a life as an upright citizen, I'd need help. Help from someone like her, not from someone like my partner Peter who struggles with keeping things legal too. To put it in a nutshell, I needed a moral compass and she was the right woman for the job and she still is. Keeping us on track, guiding us without even knowing it just by her natural sense of justice. Of course it was hard to convince her to trust me and to make her give up her life in the states and to begin anew in London and when she finally agreed it was a big relief.

Yeah, yeah, yackety-yack, you say? But why did you start to fuck her? 

Well, the not so flattering answer is, I did it because I wanted to know if I could. Peter said no. Never ever would a smart woman like Fern fuck her boss, he said when we talked about it one boozy evening. The two of us were celebrating a huge deal and I said something like I'd love to give Fern a special reward for her good work and he laughed out loud when he realized what I meant.

Well, I love a good challenge and there was something in her eyes, a gleam, a spark, that told me she was looking for an adventure, for anything to make her life a little more exciting and I was willing to give her what she was craving. And so it began.

It was supposed to be a one-off, just to prove to myself that I was able to seduce her but after the first time I wanted more. The way she let me fuck her and the way her body responded to mine was just too good to not do it again. She knows it's just sex, I didn't even have to explain it to her, it is obvious. As I said she's a quick thinker and she knows what it means that I don't even strip off my pants, that I just get out my dick to rail her.

Sometimes I eat her pussy before I fuck her, sometimes I make her ride my fingers, but I never undress myself or her. And she doesn't seem to care, she likes it and she never asks for more. She just wants a good orgasm and that's what she gets. She cums easily, she's clearly not one of the women who need a lot of time to have an orgasm, who need a long foreplay and cuddles afterwards and that's great because I'm not the right man for this kind of intimacy. I'm just a man who wants a good, satisfying fuck. I don't need love, I just need sex.

And today she's just given me that. After making her come with my mouth I fucked her hard on her desk and it was great. But now it's back to business, we have a job to do and Peter will be back from his lunch break in a few minutes. Of course he knows what's going on but we never fuck when he's around. I would because it's none of his business what happens behind closed doors but Fern is scared that he could walk in on us. "I could never look him in the eyes again, August. I swear I'd die from embarrassment." That's what she said when I wanted to have my ways with her in my office with Peter working next door one day. Virtuous, as I said. Luckily she's not such a prude when we're alone.

"Here's the Henderson file, I signed the contract. Send it back to them please." She nods and takes the papers from my hand. She's sitting behind her desk, the one I just fucked her on, and I love the thought that my cum is dripping into her panties right now. She never reeks of sex though, I guess she always has fresh panties in her handbag and she washes her pussy in the bathroom when we're done. Well organized and always prepared, that's Fern.

"I need to leave a little earlier today if that's okay. I have an appointment." She looks at me with a smile that I don't return. I hardly ever smile and she knows it. She doesn't take offence and keeps on giving me her sweet smiles that often brighten up my busy days and I appreciate it.

"Sure. What kind of appointment?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Curious much, huh?"

"It's job related...ex agent...you know how it is." I grin and turn to leave because I don't expect an answer.

"Piano lessons." Her voice makes me stop and turn around.

"So you finally decided to do it."

"Yeah. I thought a lot about what you told me. That you're never too old to learn stuff and to start with something new. So I decided to give it a try."

"That's good, Fern. I'm sure you're gonna nail it."

"Thanks, August. To be honest I'm pretty nervous. I still think I might be too old to learn it properly."

"You're only 32 and you don't have to become the next Rachmaninoff."

She laughs and it sounds as clear as a bell. "I'll keep that in mind." "Good girl." 

~~~~~~

#august walker #august walker smut #august walker x ofc #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction #mission impossible fallout #august walker au #august walker fic

[nicoforlifetrue]

He doesn't stay in the world for long, at first jumping from these worlds of left-behind not-yet watchers. Then, finally, he reaches out and draws out a world of his own, hiding it in magic so thoroughly it's overkill.

Then he builds.

He builds and he builds, from cityscapes to cottage towns, ignoring the phantom hands and feathers on his back.

He learns and he plays, crafting structures ..and at times turning over his shoulder to ask if they're proud, to find no one.

Just empty space. 

Endless, flat, empty space with no movement other than his creations.

He's alone.

And so instead he spends his time building and flying, once even revisiting his almost forgotten engineering skills to maybe just manufacture a friend, hell even a chat bot would work… And then realizing maybe they should have stayed forgotten— as, for a few weeks, he spent hours frantically fixing the code of a robot he had locked in his closet after it had deleted the laws of robotics out of its own files. Sure a fully functioning AI was groundbreaking and all, but it being convinced it was literally a demon that wanted to seemingly kill him and/or work him to death was one weird bug to come out of the whole thing. 

He elected to not tell it that he was incapable of dying. Last thing it needed was even more reason to make him build more rustic houses.

He then of course didn't learn his lesson and made a second one, someone to entertain his first when he just didn't have the energy to.

Npg, he named the first one, Robo he named the second.

They lived to annoy each other and make his life a nightmare. Because unfortunately now that there were two of them, they now had someone on the outside to edit their code.

Robo seemed set on turning Npg’s builds into a completely different style when the other turned its back, which led to Grian having to reattach Robo’s arm and yet again re-code Npg out of a rage loop that Grian couldn't figure out how to just remove without a complete and total system failure.

His only real confusion is why they stopped targeting him in their fits of rage.

And why they went into the closet when they had a virus, that was weird too. Learned habits maybe? He did tend to lock them in there when he was fixing the homicidal tendencies, and it is where he kept a mass majority of his more fine tuned engineering instruments. So maybe the learning AI had put the closet as the bug fixing space, and then also learned that it was faster to be repaired when in that area? Grian did tend to notice something was wrong faster now that they had picked up the habit. It seemed a bit too advanced considering the simple learning program he had installed, but then again it had also learned how to delete something grian had hard wired into its code so, at this rate, anything was possible.

He still can't believe he had managed to code it considering most of his knowledge was self taught. Not that he'd claim to have done much, Npg and Robo had made most of the more impressive edits to their own code.

He learned his lesson and stopped at Robo, deciding to focus on his current bots instead of stress over making new ones. The bots had enough issues where it didn't matter either way. Not to mention Robo seemed to be developing a praise seeking personality, as well as a jealousy streak. He couldn't be sure any new bots would survive it. Also considering he's pretty sure the only reason Robo isn't trying to get rid of Npg is because of how Grian would scold both of them when they hurt the other. It seemed like his scolding triggered a “bad” tick in the code, thankfully, so they should learn out of harming things soon. 

He hopes.

He quietly thanks whatever higher power is controlling the two’s code that even touching the rewards and punishments system causes a complete system failure. A thing he learned when Robo had tried to get rid of said bad tick and Grian had found it face down on its build.

…He also spent a lot of time thinking— thinking about what happened, what he doesn't like, what he adores, often about himself.

And he finds things he didn't quite like.

He notes first how the ‘they’ he so adored growing up has dropped from his inner monologue, the pronoun a bit spoiled by the connection to them, although there still a cherry sweetness to the letters when he thinks of them— a flash of straw blond hair and a hidden smile— but with some good news he feels pleased when running over third person phrases; he finds himself using words like person instead of boy, or partner instead of boyfriend, or child instead of son, the only exception being the same as before with brother instead of sibling.

A discovery he made when one time his mentor was feeling particularly talkative and had murmured plans for children, about how Grian would be a great sibling.

He always loved how all it took was “brother” from him and the immediate shift in his mentor's words.

But his pronouns had changed, not much else.

With this revelation he trailed after it, noted with no small pleasure that they did not change who he was— he was still a demiboy, that hadn't changed, and he found no small joy in thinking it never would, the image of him telling his mentor and the soft wings that had pulled him just a bit closer lighting up in his mind as he thought of it; their silent “ok” when they couldn't bring themselves to whisper the word.

Then he chases after what he hates now, things to tiptoe around.

He finds the end revolting; not enough to never go, but enough to avoid, blacks and purples send shivers up his spine and he finds cloaks quite pleasant to burn, whittling himself a staff fills him with confidence instead of disdain, and with a couple testing jabs he finds the weapon a comfort instead of a nuisance.

He finds quite quickly that his diet has changed.

Outside of their realm he finds himself growing hungry, and thus discovers the variety of things he can no longer consume, which just so happens to be near everything; meats are off the table, too many fruits give him a stomach ache, bread is kind of okay but too much and he gets a headache— the only thing he doesn't have much problems with seems to be seeds which, oddly enough, keep him feeling fairly full.

He ends up finding himself mixing together meal bags, comprised mostly of seed with the max amount of other things before he gets sick. As far as he can tell he hasn't been malnourished, at least according to the bots and how he himself feels, so he calls it good and moves on to other issues.

Like the loneliness, how it surrounded him, made haunting whispers echo at the edge of his hearing, gunshots now mixed with snapping wings.

He was alone, painfully alone. Other than his two homicidal robot sons who he loves dearly yet still, they don't make much for conversation. Or much anything to socialize with. They were… hollow, unable to chase away his thoughts for more than a few seconds at most.

He wanted people— real honest people… But he was alone.

But things change.

:)

#watcher phil #watcher grian #npg #npc grian #robot grian #2/10 #the finch fanfic #grian

[kerie-prince]

We're Worlds Apart (8)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: mentions of smoking, mentions of death

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: god, i had MAJOR writers block for this chapter. i almost got lost in the direction i wanted this series to go and i'm still figuring out a way on how to not let this drag out too long. i'm debating on adding this to wattpad but i don't know how to make aesthetically pleasing cover art so if anyone could teach a bitch how, lmk ✋🏼😩

(gif cred)

Blaise has been acting differently than usual. Not that you had too many complaints considering that you hardly knew him. Better words would be that from the short time you knew him, he started acting different. What was once two nights a week turned into him staying with you almost everyday.

It was kind of annoying, actually. He was here to see Draco, not some random person he just met.

One morning, he got up early and tried to make breakfast, but he had no idea how to work any of the muggle items so rather than your alarm on your bed stand you woke up to the smoke alarm.

You woke up feeling groggy but had a pleasant soreness on your inner thighs. Before you even brushed your hair or teeth, you rushed as much as you could to see what was going on in your house. When you stepped into your kitchen, your toaster was on fire and there was smoke everywhere. Blaise was just standing by it scratching his head. It woke you right up; you ran to your small laundry room and snatched the fire hydrant.

After you put the fire out, you turned to Blaise, “What the hell happened?”

“I guess now would be a bad time to ask you to make breakfast?” He didn't really show that he was sorry. Maybe on the inside he was, but would it kill him to show it? You rubbed the temple of your nose bridge to smooth out the growing headache. Now you have to buy a new toaster and make food for this man.

The bell rang through your house in the early morning. You set the fire hydrant on the counter and walked to the front door to see who it was that was outside. Probably, no, hopefully Theo coming to pick his best friend up to take him out to go anywhere else that wasn't your house.

Fate was decidedly not on your side today. The person that stood on your porch was none other than your mother. “Ma? What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be rude, baby,” she let herself in just like she used to walk into your room when you were younger living in her house. She looked around and had a scrunched up look. “Y/N, what is burning?”

Just when the situation couldn't get any worse, Blaise walked out to the living room also assuming Theo was here to see him. It donned on you now that Blaise was shirtless and his pajama silk bottoms were sitting dangerously low on his hips. You were glad that he was wearing underwear or else your mother would see more than she needed to.

Blaise stood shockingly still and wasn't sure what to do, so he just did the first thing that came to mind. “Hello, I'm Blaise. Nice to meet you,” he held his hand out for your mother to shake.

She stood with a look of horror on her face and kept her hands to her side. As if it was natural, she gave you a disapproving look before looking back at the man in your house. Blaise retracted his hand and looked at you, “I'll just be at Draco’s then.”

You nodded and stayed with your mother as he put on his shirt in your room and left. “Y/N… what are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Isn't it a long ride from Boston?” you sassed.

“Don't give me that. I wanted to come see you and… and I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” You could tell that it was really hard for her to say the last bit. “I shouldn't have acted the way I acted on Thanksgiving.”

“What happened, ma?” you asked with your arms crossed, “I know it's not because of Stephanie also practicing Wicca. And if it is, then I really don't understand.”

“I just… why are you still doing this? All of this? I get that you wanted to be closer to your grandmother so I let you do whatever you wanted–”

“You let me? You make it sound like this is some hobby!” you yelled.

“IT IS A HOBBY,” she animated with her arms, “Y/N, you are 26 years old. When are you going to move on?”

“This is ridiculous, I need you to leave,” you began to escort your mother out of your house. “No, I’m staying. This was my house–”

“No, it was Grandma’s house and now it’s mine. Goodbye, mother,” you closed the door in her face and turned against it to lean on your back. Your face was in your hands and you wanted to scream.

You checked the time on your oven and saw you still had 45 extra minutes to do whatever you wanted before you had to get ready to open the store. Since Blaise has been over everyday and you haven't opened up to him about your practice, you wanted to spend extra time to soothe all the negative and stressful energy that was building up inside you.

The closet hadn't been opened in a few days and once you were facing all your herbs, crystals, and oils, you immediately felt better.

“It's been a while, girls,” you spoke to yourself. You grabbed some oils, a sage and crystals to get ready. And you had lots of work to do.

—

“Alright, you are good to go,” Draco released a child with their parents. Work has since died down since the huge fiasco earlier in the month. There was still the question as to who and why it all happened, but he decidedly let it go for now.

Recently, he's been getting closer with you with small chats every now and then since the day in Manhattan. Draco deemed you as now ‘okay’ in his book. Your chats were simple but not bad.

One thing that for sure was odd was Blaise suddenly staying there every night. He never got an explanation, nor has he ever asked him. Blaise was acting kind of strange, but Draco liked to think it was due to being homesick.

Thirteen hours had passed and Draco’s day would finally come to an end. Ian and Ashley asked him if he'd like to join them on a drink, but he declined. Theo called him and let him know that Blaise was home, so he was going to drink with the two of them. He had yet to introduce his work friends with his best friends and was planning to before they went back to London.

As he pulled up home, he saw you sitting alone on your porch. You had a stoic look on your face and had a cigarette in between your fingers. Draco didn't think you smoked at all. He has never seen you do it once in the months living next to you.

He figured he’d just be a good neighbor and say hello. He walked over and knocked on the wooden porch to gain your attention. You were pulled out of whatever thought you were in the middle of and looked at him. “Oh, hi,” you greeted without your usual enthusiasm.

Draco went through his coat pockets for his own pack and pulled one out. He then realized that he didn't have one of those muggle lighters and tried to figure out how to light his smoke without magic like he usually did.

To you, it seemed that he just forgot a lighter so you pulled out yours and gestured for Draco to come closer. He leaned in and accepted it, “I didn't know you smoked.”

You chuckled to yourself, “Yeah, I uh, quit a year ago.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “You don't look like you quit.” He took a couple puffs of his cigarette and looked out on the street. You took a particularly long puff and slowly let the smoke out of your lips, “Well, when you have a mom like mine, you start up old habits again.”

“You’ve never met my father,” Draco commented under his breath, “She seemed nice when I met her.”

“She's nice to everyone but her own daughter,” you rolled your eyes. You let your cigarette out and almost started another one, but something stopped you. You leaned back into your chair and closed your eyes.

“Have you two always fought?” Draco asked. You kept at your position but opened your eyes. You gave it some thought before eventually nodding ‘yes’. “What about your father?”

The question seemed to have affected you; your eyes started getting glossy and your bottom lip quivered. Draco noticed. Should I not have asked that?

“He passed away when I was 12,” you sounded like your breath was cut short. Your hands reached up to cover your eyes and wipe away any tears before they could fall down.

As much as Draco and Lucius never saw eye to eye, he couldn't really imagine losing his father. Sure, Lucius was harsh on his son and always compared him to Potter, but Draco still cared about him. And he knew that Lucius loved him in his own way. Maybe you weren't all that different.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Draco consoled. You stood up to go inside. The weather was cold and your cashmere sweater wasn't doing you any good. “Thank you.” Draco let his cigarette out and told you ‘Good night’ before leaving.

Stepping down, he looked back and called for you, “Y/N.” You hadn't closed the door yet, so you looked back with your door held by your hand, waiting for whatever Draco had to say. “If you ever need to talk… I'm right next door.”

It surprised you to say the least. But it unexpectedly made you warm on the inside. “Thank you, Dray.” He nodded and waved before going home.

Inside, Theo sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen eating leftovers from the night before and Blaise was going through the Daily Prophet. “How was work?” the latter friend asked.

“Alright. Good to see you here for once,” Draco greeted. Blaise laughed without taking his eyes off the paper, “Can't a man be with his girlfriend before he leaves?”

“Ha, is that what you two are?” Theo teased from across the room with his mouth stuffed, “Look at Blaise; he finally settled down. Hell has officially frozen over.”

Blaise listed one hand to flip off Theo. Draco, however, felt a churn in his stomach. It was weird to hear Blaise call you his girlfriend. No one has gotten Blaise to call them that, but somehow you did it.

He wasn't really sure Blaise even knew what it meant to have a girlfriend, or even how to be a boyfriend. He never asked what they did knowing that he'd get endless teasing.

Draco grumbled to himself and went to his room. He changed into comfortable clothes and right when he was about to join Theo in the kitchen, he looked at his window for a moment. He peeked through his window and saw you through yours.

You sat on your bed with your legs up to your chest and your arms wrapped them close. Your face had no expression on it, but considering the conversation less than an hour ago, one could assume that you were sad.

“You fancy her, don't you?” Blaise surprised Draco, making the blond jump. “Merlin, Blaise, don't do that.”

“Well?” Blaise stood against the open door with arms and legs crossed. Draco rolled his eyes and walked towards the door, but Blaise didn't budge from his position. “I don't fancy anybody, now move.”

“I don't care if you do. But I do care when you lie to me. And yourself,” Blaise’s tone was threatening.

“Shouldn't you fancy her? She's your girlfriend,” Draco matched his tone. “Besides, if she was, shouldn't you be pissed if I did?”

“I do fancy her, but I'm not the one living next to her. Eventually, I'm leaving,” Blaise reminded his best friend. “So do us the favor and figure out whatever it is you want, or I'll find a reason to stay.” With that, Blaise left to his shared room and slammed the door.

What in Salazar is his deal? Draco thought. He walked up to his fridge and rummaged through all the containers of leftover food. I really need to learn how to cook.

Theo was still eating when he started talking, “Blaise has been pissy all day. What you reckon is his deal?”

“‘M gonna guess there's trouble in paradise and she's sick of him,” Draco jokes. His eyes land on the Chinese food from a couple nights ago and warms it up with his wand.

“Hm, as if,” Theo commented. He cleaned his mess up when he finished and turned to Draco. “Night, mate. Fingers crossed he doesn't yell at me and I have to sleep on the couch.”

“Night,” Draco replied and sat down on one of the high chairs. He thought a lot about you telling him about your father. He sat and wondered if you told Blaise. Maybe you even opened up to him about your… craft? Draco didn't know what to call it yet.

But he figured that if you did, Draco would be the first person Blaise would tell. And seeing as even Theo, the biggest mouth between the three, hasn't said anything, then that meant that you probably hadn't told Blaise.

And for a quick second, passing just as quickly as it came, he wondered if you would tell him first.

—

It was currently December 18th. Your dad's birthday. Usually you'd ride with your mother to his stone in Boston, but seeing as your latest argument was bothering you, staring at photos of him was going to be enough today.

You hardly remembered much about him since you were young, but you remember the good moments and some of the bad. The bad being the last of his days. His cancer was strong as it was caught too late by doctors.

The store was closed today per usual. You never had it opened on his birthday. Blaise was also at Draco's house. You'd ask him to have the day to yourself and when he asked why, you didn't explain.

Your door bell rang and you groaned, hoping it wasn't your mother again.

"Hey," your brother greeted you. "Y/B/N, hey. Come in, you're probably freezing." Inside, he took his jacket off and hung it on your coat rack. He sat on the couch and your cat ran to sit on his lap. "Sometimes, I think she likes you more than me," you chuckled as your brother gave her head strokes and she purred loudly.

"How come you're by yourself? We missed you today," your brother asked. You sat beside him and closed the photo book. "I didn't feel like fighting with mom again today."

"Y/N/N, I know she's hard to handle, but she needed you today," he reached out for your hand and squeezed it. "I needed you, too."

"Well, she has a funny way of showing it," you stared into nothing. You rested your head on his shoulder and wrapped your throw blanket over your shoulders. "Sometimes, I almost forget what he's like. His laugh, how he made Ma smile. How he smelled," you started.

Your brother was 8 when your dad died, so his memory was limited. But he still remembers how much he loved him. You both sat in silence, hands locked and the only sound being your cats purring.

"Mom told me you have a boyfriend. That true?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe? He hasn't said anything, and he leaves after New Years, so maybe not," you half-explained. What was Blaise to you? Did he feel anything when you were together? Was it just physical? You didn't know, and you never asked.

"Well, if he breaks your heart, I don't care where he lives. I'm beating his ass," your brother commented. You hit his shoulder and he laughed. "How's Steph? I haven't been able to call her," you asked.

"Oh. Um, we're taking a break." Your brother sounded sad. You sat up and looked at your baby brother. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I think Mom just spooked her. But I'll get her back," he sounded only partly sure of himself. You nodded and rested back on his shoulder. He stayed for a few hours; watched a movie and had dinner before he left back for Boston to see your mom once more.

When he left, you sat in your room and lit up some incense to calm your nerves. Out your window, Draco's curtains were closed as usual. Something inside you wanted to talk to someone that wasn't your brother, Blaise, or even Miranda and Bianca.

It wasn't that Draco wasn't the best of friends, but you had an indescribable pull towards him, and you wondered if it was the same for him.

—

next chp

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[sashayaweh]

Sam and Bucky dance to this song after having to take refuge in a safe house during a particularly high stakes mission. Theres a record player and Sam makes this necessary senior citizen taunts when he catches Bucky's frequent glances towards where it sits on the wooden shelf. Eventually, Sam walls over to fiddle with it because Bucky insists on faking disinterest, but Sam really wants to see him being not-so-boring for once. It was rare to see the other man take interests in his surroundings, barring the hyperawareness that he had for every environment he found himself in.

Sam could almost imagine Bucky's robo-brain whirring to calculate all the exits, people, and vantage points for any possible threat. He never seemed to fully relax. Even sitting in a chair, he sat stiffly as if he was ready to leap out at at any moment. Sam could understand. He wasn't brainwashed and weaponized for 70 years, sure. But he has seen war and death. Things he'd rather forget. And he's felt fear. The initial fear of the thousand foot free falls, the fear of the police and the banks, and the fear of losing himself in it all. So, Sam gets the mental burden and understands how hard it is to leave once you're in.

So, he fiddles with the record player and pretends not to know how to work it. There's no other records visible, but luckily one is still in place. Bucky would eventually get irritated and put everything into place because he knows what Sam is doing. And he knows that Sam knows. Because Sam knows everything. Bucky assumes this from the amount of time the other man spends talking. So, he puts the record on like old times and ignores the lump trying to force its way up and the memories that resurface. Steve-

"You're lucky, man. Etta James, and a classic at that, talk about a two for one. Looks like our luck it starting to turn around, CP30," Sam smile toothily and Bucky wants to do do something to that gap in his teeth. He doesn't quite know what that is yet. Maybe punch it because Sam knows he doesn't understand that obvious reference. But Sam's smile soften to a close, and the corners curl at the edges as his head begins to sway with the notes. Like silk curtains, his eyes slip close in simple pleasure as if he was settling himself into the music.

Bucky watches and feels awkward. At some point, in the past, he would know what to do in the situation. He would know what to do with the violins and the soulful tones curling words of longing into the air. And tired fulfillment. Maybe, he would know what to do with Sam but he doubts it. Or at least how to...be himself. Maybe then they wouldn't argue for once. Sam opens his eyes and looks over to see Bucky who stood, stone faced and deep in thought. The focus of his hooded stare was intense and Sam scoffed. The other man was being broody again.

"Are you even listening to the music or did you zone out again?" He shifts, slightly elbowing his companion and Bucky blinks, his thoughts shifting back to the present.

"You started talking, I couldn't help myself," Bucky quips and Sam let's out a soft scoft that becomes a short laugh. Bucky feels his own lips twitch.

"You gotta relax, man. You could beat a piñata with the stick you have up your ass," Sam shakes his head. That wide tooth smile is back but this time its less cocky and a little more warm. Bucky rolls his eyes and looks away. He does that a lot. At least he understood the reference this time.

Sam sighs and stops the music. He replaces the needle at the original point and let's it go. After a few seconds of crackling silence, the song fills the room again. Sam slaps the back of his hand gently against Bucky's chest and steps back with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Wanna dance, old man?"

Bucky gently freezes in shock but Sam catches it because he expected it, really. Its why he asked in the first place. He wants to shake up that tightly wound exposure that Bucky has at all times. And he was bored. Bucky was not a talkative person and their current predicament left them without many sources for entertainment. It'd been hours since they arrived, yet Sam was feeling the time pass under his skin like an itch. He was exhausted and body weary, but it was better to stay awake so he could orient to the new time zone. As a result, he couldn't help but pester the other man.

"No."

Sam just kept looking at him. His gaze was sleepy, but a twinkle of the earlier mischief still shined through. Similarly, his skin reflected the warmth of the sun as it clung to the early evening and seeped through the windows. It was lucky that they got to be above ground this time.

The staring lasted a long moment. Like it always did. Then Sam shrugged.

"I know dancing may not be a particular talent of yours-" but before he could finish, Bucky was in his space and the rest of Sam's sentenced disappeared with some of his bravado. Bucky was fast and his sudden closeness wasn't expected given the man's reservations a second ago. The sudden adrenaline that had sparked through Sam's started to fade too. He wasn't scared of his companion, but the man's behavior was largely still a mystery to Sam which meant that sometimes he was caught off-guard.

Bucky raised his right hand out, brow arched expectantly, and Sam took it with caution. The man's other hand rose to hover a few inches above Sam's hip, and it took a few moments before he realized Bucky was waiting for permission. His cheeks warmed and he hoped his complexion made it less obvious. He gently guided the metal hand until Bucky settled it on the jut of his hip, the surface cool and smooth under his soft hold.

"Aren't you a gentleman? Thats that old-school chivalry," Sam teased. Bucky pulled their bodies closer and smirked wryly.

"I aim to please." A new song had started and Bucky briefly tore his attention from the heat he felt spreading along his front. He hadn't danced in a long time. Not like this.

The current song featured a masculine husk crooning affections for the listener. It was accompanied by the distinct, steady tempo of a piano. Bucky felt his body catch the music, the way he'd been taught, quickly adjusting to an appropriate rhythm. Sam followed without much of a pause, finally starting to settle into the feelings of sharing this foreign intimacy with the familiar stranger who was holding him so damn gently. Even so, Bucky gripped him firmly like he'd catch Sam if he even thought about falling.

It was...nice. Nicer than Sam (or either of them, really) had expected. He hadn't been held in who knows how long. He was too busy and had mostly outgrown flings, but it wouldn't be fair to a potential partner if he randomly left on long missions that required little to no contact with those who didn't have the clearance. But that was kind of an excuse. Since everything that had happened, Sam hasn't much felt like having others in his space. He was a social person and owned that, sure. But it was hard to open up authentically as much as he teased Bucky about his tendency to isolate himself. He tries to take the advice he regularly gives to the veterans he takes under his wing. Its enough to sustain his close relationships, including whatever he has going on with One Armed Wonder, but he has little energy to offer anyone else. He has to remind himself that thats okay.

Without thinking, Sam realized he had sunk his head into the crook of Bucky's shoulder. He had started to drift, still following the gentle sways of his partner's body like a boat welcoming the gentle rocking of small waves after a storm. Bucky hadn't said anything, luckily, so Sam remains in his position and enjoys the comforting sounds of soul that has wrapped around them.

He had finally put Bucky onto some real good conditioner after growing sick of the greasy tresses the man sported as the Winter Soldier. No judgement. Its hard to have a solid hair care routine as an international assassin for magic super Nazis. But now, it smelled like honeyed coconuts instead of the scentless, dollar brands he used to buy at random. Even though Bucky's hair was shorter, Sam still caught wiffs of it near his neck. It was more noticeable this close given the man's lack of cologne.

Bucky had noticed earlier when Sam's head dipped into his shoulder. Shortly after, he though he had heard soft snores, but the man's body had otherwise remained upright and solid like usual. He had continued to follow the pattern they'd set, so Bucky had just shifted his hand to his partner's lower back to provide support and kept their pace steady. Otherwise, he lost himself in the heat of Sam's hand and the confusing stillness that had settled in his chest. He felt...anchored. But that was Sam. He was strong and steady, and reliable, but just as capable of sinking as anyone else without the support he inarguable deserved. The support Bucky tried to provide.

Steve was gone now. He'd left the both of them to figure out the aftermath of everything that had happened. Bucky wondered if it hurt Sam like it hurt for him. He didn't blame his Steve; couldn't begrudge him that act of selfishness after all they'd been through. Without Rogers' strong presence between them, they had been left to scramble in the gap and reshape it for two. Sam had his family and Bucky had his therapist, but nobody could understand the them as much as the other, as different as they are. So here they are, slow dancing in a safehouse Rhodes had been generous enough to lend them on short notice. He was amicable towards Bucky, but the generosity was really for Sam. Bucky's neck itched, likely with dried sweat, and he sighed internally. He needed a shower.

The man worked his hand against Sam's lower back instinctually and the other man responds with a questioning hum tinged with sleepiness. Bucky doesnt have an answer so they continue in silence. The song had changed. It was a woman again. She was singing the Blues, if Bucky guessed correctly. He's been picking up more of the music Sam liked. It could be relaxing but full-bodied one moment or rich and thrilling the next.

So far, he has only worked his way up the mid-80s. Sam jokesthat his sensitive hearing isnt prepared for the young and hip tastes that dominate the charts, but he'll still sneak recent artists into his recommendations so Bucky isnt completely "out of the loop." Like always, Bucky would just roll his eyes, but now and again he closes them and try to imagine what Sam felt when listened to the music. Wonders at the connections the man shares with the melodies, and the histories curved into the lyrics. Some things, he couldn't ever understand, even if he tries. So, other times, he just listens.

Now, he's curled over his partner's slightly shorter stature, nose brushing the other man's temple. Sam was not a small man. He was built like a brick house. His upper body was strong, but his lower half was thick with muscle and padded by soft curves of flesh. Probably because he only does legs. Meanwhile, Bucky's own body is near the opposite: wide, sturdy chest that tapers to a firm waist and steady, straight legs. They contrast nicely, Bucky thinks. Filling up the spaces the other doesn't. For two people of their size, they still manag to fit snugly with little space between their bodies. Any closer, and Bucky isn't sure how he'd handle the proximity. He feels lulled into the calmness of the evening that had unexpectedly crept up on them in the quiet of everything around them, save for the music.

The two danced a bit longer, but eventually Sam's body grew too weary after the lack of sleep. With hesitancy, they quietly parted after the final notes of the song slipped from the record player. Bucky turns stopped the music while Sam flops into the nearby couch. His growing exhaustion does not stop him from throwing a smirk Bucky's way which the man met with his regular deadpan stare.

"Not bad. Not a single hip replacement necessary. I'd say thats a success for two old men." Sam quipped. Bucky stayed silent.

"You're not old," he finally said. He hadn't moved from his spot by the record player.

"Hmmm. Well, compared to you, 42 isn't that old." Sam lets his eyes close again but Bucky clears his throat, causing one of them to open in question.

"There's a bedroom upstairs," he explains carefully. They've been on the move for some time now with little time for real rest. If Sam was going to finally sleep then it should be in a real bed, at least.

Sam lets out out a quick laugh, "if you think you can butter me up with a dance-"

Bucky cuts off his teasing with a quick glare. If there was ever a moment being the Winter Soldier has served him, it was now. Otherwise, the heat he could feel trying to redden his ears would send Sam into a fit of hysterics.

"I did a perimeter check when we arrived. There's three bedrooms upstairs. All of them have en-suites bathrooms so take your choice," Bucky grumbles out, avoiding eye contact with his counterpart. The earlier stillness he had felt was slowly disappearing now that they were interacting again. His nerves were more taxed than before. He'll analyze that later. Maybe with his therapist, but she was kind of petty, so maybe not.

Sam's teasing smirk has settled into something a little more kind as he rises frim his seat and crosses the room to where Bucky stands. He roughly claps the other man's arm a couple of times before settling the familiar weight of his hand at the ball of Bucky's shoulder.

"I'm just messing with you, man. Thanks though. That couch would do my back in after being thrown by that explosion. Luckily, you were there to provide some cushioning," he says with that toothy smile. Before Bucky can respond, Sam bids him goodnight and slowly makes his way upstairs. Bucky watches him go, dry-mouthed and slightly confused. Once Sam has completely disappeared from view, Bucky takes in his surroundings and feels the emptiness of the room without Wilson's presence.

He'll do one more perimeter check then turn in for the night. Even he can feel the pullings of sleep. Maybe tonight, he'll dream about dancing.

#Spotify #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #winterfalcon #tfatws #fatws #this was not supposed to be a fic #but it turned into one #mcu marvel #cliche #fics #edit later

[l-egionaire]

Owl House Fic - Remember Me

They'd been close before he was gone.

He'd called her his "princesa", his "pequeña estrella fugaz", and all sorts of of other cute nicknames delivered while she was swaddled in his arms or being given tickly mustache kisses by him.

He was the only person who ever seemed to be able to get her under control. Whenever she had too much energy and was bouncing off the walls, he'd give her some crayons and a pad of paper or ask her to help him with a project while making it sound like an exciting game. Thus, she was able to channel all her overexcitement into something productive. If she tried to do something risky, like play witch by jumping off her bed while holding a broomstick, he was able to talk her out of it and help her find a safer activity.

He was just as weird as she was. Where she was obsessed with magic and witches, he fawned over art. He talked her ear off all the time about famous artists, sculptors, and painters. He planned trips for him, her, and Mamá to go to museums, practically vibrating with joy at all the different works they saw. Anytime he didn't spend at his job at the auto shop was spent painting, drawing, and sculpting. She was always amazed whenever she saw his hands seem to almost effortlessly glide across a paper or through wood and turn an ordinary object into something extraordinary. It was like real magic and the first time she saw it, she begged him to teach her. Every Saturday became their art day where he would teach her his craft bit by bit, revealing to her the secrets of the magic he practiced.

More than anything though, he was her best friend. All the other kids were usually scared off by her intensity, so he was the only person willing to play with her. They'd read stories together, him doing funny voices and helping her sound out the hard parts. They'd eat massive ice cream sundaes smothered in peanuts, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. Before diving into them he'd wink and make her promise not to tell Mamá he fed her so much sugar. They made so many drawings, crafts, and paintings that they almost ran out of room to put them all. He was without a doubt the person she was closest to in her life.

Which is why it hurt so much when he left them.

She was 8 years old. It was just an ordinary day, specifically a Saturday. Their art day. The two of them had been working hard on finishing a family portrait that they'd been working on as a surprise for the upcoming Mother's day. Unfortunately, he had been called in to work, so she'd spent most of the day in the living room waiting for him to come back, their art supplies set out and ready to use the minute to get back.

Her heart filled with joy when she heard the sounds of her mamá coming down the steps, sure that she was about to tell her that he was on his way home and ready to start painting with her. She moved to hide their half-finished painting from view as her mamá came in, but her smile faded when she saw the hollow expression on her face.

She'd never forget what she said next.

"Luz....mija, I'm sorry. Your papá, he's....he's gone."

Mamá then began to tell Luz how papá had been driving home from work but, another driver hadn't been watching where he was going when they hit her father's car. But Luz could barely hear her, as the words "your papá is gone" repeated inside her head. She didnt even react when mamá bent down and gave her a tight, shaky hug.

Luz went through the next week and a half completely numb. She did things like eating and going through the school day on autopilot. Whenever anyone talked to her she responded with short answers in a monochrome tone. Even her dreams, which used to be filled with vivid magical adventures were now empty and black.

She finally started to come to her senses on the day of the funeral. Mamá put her in a new black dress and they drove to meet with her abuela on her papá's side. The two of them embraced each other tearfully, mamá rubbing soothing circles into her back as she thanked her for being in his life.

They and the rest of his relatives all rode together to the funeral home. Inside was the casket with Papá's body inside. Everyone took turns going up to it and saying their goodbyes. When Luz and her mamá's turn came up, Luz felt a sharp pain in her heart at seeing him laying in the coffin. She had the urge to kiss him on the forehead in the hope he might wake up like the princess in a movie they'd seen together once. But her mamá held her back.

Afterward they had a ceremony where people came up and talked about Papá and his effect on their life. So many stories Luz had never heard about him. Once the ceremony was over they went back to the cars and drove to a cemetery where they had one more speech before Papá's body was buried.

As she watched them lower his casket into the ground, it all finally seemed to hit Luz.

Her Papá was dead.

Which meant no more art Sundays together. No more movie nights with she, him and Mamá snuggled up on the couch, the two of them sneaking kisses while Luz groaned at their mushy romance. No more coming down to find him cooking breakfast, singing along badly to a song blaring from the radio.

He wouldn't be there for her 9th birthday, or her 10th, or 11th. He wouldn't see her graduate from Elementary school along with all the other kids. He wouldn't watch her grow up and become a famous painter like she'd told him she would. They'd never finish their painting for mother's day.

Slowly the sharp pain that she'd felt back in the funeral home came back with even greater strength. It was so intense, she gripped her chest in the hope that would make it stop.

Luz wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to leap down into the grave, bang her fists on the casket and beg her papá to come back to her.

She was seconds away from doing any one of those things or maybe even some combination of the three when she noticed the sound of sniffling come from next to her. She looked over and realized it was coming from Mamá.

For the first time since she'd told her about his death, Luz actually looked at her mamá. She saw the deep anguish on her face. Noticed the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. Saw the heavy stream of tears pouring from her eyes despite them already being extremely red. Even her usual bun was frayed and frazzled looking.

Luz gently tugged on the sleeve of her dress. "Mamá? Are you okay?"

She sniffled heavily and warbly replied "Si, Luz. I'm sorry Mija, I just....I can't....." And that was all she could choke out before breaking down into heavier sobs.

Seeing her crying like that, the pain that was in Luz's heart morphed into a deep twisting guilt.

She wasn't the only one who'd lost Papá. Mamá lost him too. She wouldn't be able to go on date nights with him anymore. She wouldn't be able to greet him with a kiss to the cheek when she came down to the kitchen for breakfast. Never get to have their "alone time" Tio Rosa said they had whenever they got Luz to watch her.

And here Luz was. Only thinking of herself. So caught up in her own feelings that she completely ignored how her mamá was feeling. How could she be so selfish?

Despite how tough it was, Luz stuffed all her pain and sadness down and took her mamá's hand. She gently rubbed circles into the back of her palm.

"It's alright mamá. I'm here for you."

She didn't have time to think only about herself. She couldn't be that selfish.

Someone else needed her.

#The Owl House #ToH #Owl House #luz noceda #toh luz #luz owl house #luz #camilla noceda #the owl house camilia #toh camilia #camilia noceda #Owl House Fanfic #Fanfiction #Luz's father #angst #tw: Death

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 18

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: We stan ✨women in science✨. Bruce uwu. Twitter social media AU nobody asked for. Stephen and Tony are dicks and I'm not talking about their anatomy. Setting up mood for Bruce smut, ngl. PTSD makes things spicy. I'm depressed so please be kind ✌🏻💀🙃

"I really do wonder how can you two fit those egos of yours in your pants," I kept my tone forcefully casual, cheerful even. "Why don't you just fuck already?"

I was met with stunned silence. Suddenly, the room seemed far too large and the people in much too quiet, staring at me with various expressions of horror obvious in their faces. As the strange friendship began developing between me and the team, my "outbursts" - how Steve liked to call them - lessened considerably. I had no need to provoke them into giving me attention, just striking up a casual chat was enough. The Avengers were great conversationalists, to my surprise.

Tony and Stephen, when paired, were the exception. I could count on one hand the amount of times they successfully came to a conclusion without fighting like cats and dogs. It was like each man had made it a personal mission to verbally top the other, more often than not resulting in a thirty-minute shitshow ending with one storming off in a dramatic flourish. It was mind-boggling how two supremely intelligent men could not find a way to communicate efficiently without infuriating the rest of the team.

Plus me. One way or another, I was almost always around. In the beginning, it was hilarious to see the free circus but it got old really quickly when they couldn't decide on dinner or a movie, leaving the rest of us starving and bored. Or the great Cloak debate - that one lasted days and the fussy thing was so upset, it point blank refused to part from Peter for a substantial amount of time. It's pretty fucking creepy that a semi-sentient, ancient piece of outerwear watches you when you sleep - just sayin'. I personally interjected with my own snark and sass whenever Tony and Stephen got too heated, successfully drawing the attention to myself. The fight broke up and I had amazing sex with Tony later, it was a win-win scenario.

Yet, Tony and Stephen didn't stop. To me, their way of "talking" (and I use that term loosely) looked a lot like unresolved sexual tension. Stephen frequently used his greater height to tower over Tony in a childish attempt to establish dominance; the engineer was no rookie and responded with extravagant peacocking such as "subtly" tapping the bracelet that hosted his nanotech suit or parading at dinner in a $30,000 custom made designer outfit. Because Tony could.

I was pleasantly surprised when Natasha started laughing at my remark. Full-blown, belly laugh. Those were rare, coming from the Widow, her usual mirth was quiet, sophisticated, just like her. Deadly (adorable). Bucky followed suit, snorting together with Clint and Loki.

Steve looked none too pleased with me. But then again, was he ever? "Doll, don't be rude."

"Brat," Bruce said at the same time, palming his face.

"People always call me a brat. And guess what, Steve?" I popped my hip, twirling a cotton candy pink coloured Dum-Dum between my fingers. "What can you do about it? Nothing," I shrugged, leaning my head against Bruce's shoulder affectionately.

Steve just shook his head in disappointment. "Can we get back on topic? Please?"

"Captain, I think that Stark..." Strange began talking with Tony dramatically groaning in the background and I instantly tuned out the useless babble. Steve should've been smarter and revoked speaking rights from Tony and Stephen. Or asked Loki to magically render them both mute for ten minutes.

"You're not wrong," Bruce quietly whispered next to my ear. "Ten bucks says Wanda meddles and those two finally work out their frustrations," The scientist hid a grin against my head. I felt the amused, giddy energy radiating off him like a plasma beam.

"I don't even have to bet," I rolled my eyes. "If she doesn't do it, I will."

Both Tony and Stephen were throwing me equally infuriated glances. One promised me a good, hard fucking and the other saw me a short, poisonous lecture on appropriate behaviour in the nearest future - you can guess which is which. If I had it my way, I'd skip the lecture and go straight to a hot, filthy threesome with two men twice my age. I wasn't blind, Strange was hot as hell and could be decent and even nice once in a blue moon.

He could, but he wouldn't be. I wanted that raw, unadulterated lust, tension so concentrated it walked the razor's edge between violent craving and repulsion. Ever since the incident with Clint, I had this ugly mess inside of me, like a live wire about to snap. My brain was constantly racing, darting between how utterly useless I am in a group of supers and embracing my normal-ness, amplifying it by hosting game nights and spending time trying to convince people to start a dungeons and dragons campaign. Or something.

My sleep was like Swiss cheese, riddled with holes where I stayed awake for one or two hours at a time in the middle of the night after waking up sweaty, with my heart hammering out of my chest. Sometimes I dreamt of Clint's lifeless, sickly white body, sometimes the whole room flooded with blood and I couldn't stop it no matter what, there was so much of it, I drowned in it, I startled up with the taste of it in my mouth. Rarely, the worst of it came - the one where Clint was alive as millions of millions of little fluorescent, poisonous jellyfish burst out of him and he screamed and screamed and screamed...

I had PTSD. Yay, me. As if my uselessness wasn't enough of a burden, my brain decided for me that it wasn't good enough that I saved Clint and now it was punishing me for being close to a group of people who routinely saved the WORLD.

I contemplated my usual habits - going to a party, getting trashed and dancing until my legs were numb. I just wanted to shut my brain off for a moment, give it a hard reset so-to-say, but with Tony on my back like a jet-pack, I didn't doubt he'd show up to the place and drag me out of there even if I was kicking and screaming. And he was a Stark, a billionaire, so visiting my dad in Cali wouldn't be possible on my own. Tony would gas up the jet and the rest of the team would find and excuse to tag along, too. As much as I loved being the baby menace who could get away with anything, I hated the way they all herded me, like I was an actual child. I couldn't get away from myself, not even for a moment.

I had the backup-backup plan and I was going to have to execute it. Desperate times, desperate measures. "I don't doubt y'all enjoy listening to Tony and Steph flirt," The nickname escaped unmoderated from my lips before I could catch myself. "But what are we doing for Halloween? I need to know if I gotta get a costume," Bruce chuckled next to me and wrapped an arm around me, happy for the distraction. Unlike me, the scientist was obligated to listen and participate in the avengers-themed discussion. Which was difficult because the engineer and the sorcerer constantly bickered, inadvertently taking over the talk.

"Halloween?" Steve groaned.

"We should do something," Bucky side-eyed his boyfriend. "For the children." Something told me he wasn't thinking of the children, at all. The man was positively leering, probably thinking about what kind of a tight suit he could convince Steve to squeeze into.

"A party!" Tony immediately exclaimed, interrupting Stephen mid-setence.

"Tony, no," Steve stated firmly.

"Tony, YES!" Clint perked up. "A snack bar. A bar-bar."

"I will not be helping you all if you get alcohol poisoning," Stephen crossed his arms.

"So it's a party," I stated firmly, throwing a contemplating look at Wanda and Pietro. The twins looked unsure but excited. I knew I could count on fellow young people to support my decision to have fun, dance a little, drink a little. Let loose. To nail my point, I turned to Bruce with a mischievous smirk. "Fifty bucks says Stephen is too stuck up to show up in costume."

"Beg pardon?!" The sorcerer exclaimed. His eyebrows threatened to meet his hairline.

"I think you give him too little credit, Princess," Bruce winked at me and we solemnly shook hands. It was great having a fellow partner in mischief. Loki's approving smirk just sealed the deal for me.

"It's not my fault you sometimes act like you have a stick up your butt," I gave in the way of explanation, shrugging my shoulders innocently in Stephen's direction. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"I don't dare to imagine what's been up yours," The sorcerer retorted dryly, in an uncharacteristically childish fashion, arms still crossed. It almost looked like he was pouting.

"Tony," I simply said, leering salaciously at the man.

"Ooh, kinky," Clint reached over and we promptly high-fived each other in the wake of multiple embarrassed groans emanating around the room. "Strange, you're a boring old man, get over it."

"And you regularly end up in dumpsters, Barton," Strange retorted quickly. "Not my idea of fun."

"You wouldn't know fun if it hit you in the face!" Tony grinned triumphantly, confident in his superiority over Strange. Look at that, the team was doing the work for me and I didn't even have to try.

"I'll show you fun," Stephen retorted darkly. It was obvious the man was planning something.

"Ok, boomer," I raised my eyebrows in muted satisfaction before turning around and grabbing Bruce to drag along with me. "I'm confiscating your best scientist to amuse myself. I am bored. We will go and do actual science whilst y'all argue. Bye."

My patience had run out. We were examining the parasites we found in the murder-anthropods-from-space, codename MAFS, courtesy of yours truly, and their amazing properties to penetrate cell membranes and feed on metals in organic life forms. Without Bruce's help I understood maybe half of it but he had the patience of a saint and dutifully and understandably explained to me the finer points of studying aliens. Signing half a dozen NDAs was never more worth it.

Steve's sigh consisted of 99% suffering and 2% disappointment. Natasha face-palmed silently in the corner, clutching a mug of coffee, a poster child for existential dread.

"Wait for me," Tony whined, going for the door and promptly being stopped by Steve pointing out the team needing his input on one mission or another. The engineer sighed. "Baby girl, don't let the green mean to start any experiments without me." Tony instructed, pointing an accusatory finger in our direction.

I clutched at Bruce dramatically, feigning hurt feelings and was rewarded with a swift motion of his arms. I shrieked delightfully at being thrown over the scientist's shoulder as he hastened his pace towards the elevator, hightailing it out of there. "I'd never snitch on science daddy," I wiggled my eyebrows in Tony's direction, sticking a hand down the back pocket of Bruce's pants, dangling over his shoulder like a happy sack of potatoes.

The lab smelled strongly of alcohol and bitter chemicals, the solution that Bruce developed to ensure the optimal state of the alien pathogens. The man's genius never ceased to amaze me: Bruce came up with the needed formula in the span of a few hours while running low on sleep, post a Hulk-out session.

We put on our protective gear - "science onesies" I called them - along with a respirator and goggles and set to the segregated part of the lab where the specimens were kept under a blue light. The glass wall between Bruce's and Tony's lab was dimmed; I reflected in it, looking positively futuristic in my double-stacked white platformed boots and white hazmat suit.

"Wait," I motioned to Bruce to come over.

"Oh, right, our music," He was already half-way to being in total Science Mode. "Friday, please put on the "Get Schwifty" playlist, 60% volume."

The playlist that me and Bruce came up with for our lab sessions. The man was such an adorable dork. Thirty percent my music, thirty percent of his indie rock shit and forty percent 00's bops. In other words, utter perfection.

I finally managed to fish out my phone from my pants. "No, let's take a selfie," I struck an impressive pose and pointed the camera as Avril Lavigne sung the first verse to Sk8r Boi.

Bruce laughed but abided by the request, giving me bunny ears in the photo, tapping the fingers of his other hand on my waist to the rhythm of the song.

"He was a skater boy, she said see ya later boy!" I sang along, switching my Instagram to stories and posting the short clip of us just vibing with the caption #sciencetime, Bruce laughing openly behind his respirator. I looked cute and silly in my outfit.

"Send the video to me, I'll post it on my Twitter," Bruce requested. I indulged him then put my phone away, ready to conquer the world of microbiology. Or die trying. Science was calling...

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

#stephen strange x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #tony stark x y/n #stephen strange x you #bruce banner x you #tony stark x you #stephen strange x reader #bruce banner x reader #tony stark x reader #party favours #bun writes #avengers social media au

[starshine-selfships]

Been having some issues with work and energy and decided maybe it would be easier to do a little drabble rather than draw a full piece; even though i don't think I'll ever be able to top the very first drabble I ever wrote for here, I do still have fun with the process and this *is* the only way to get better at it hehe

Happy Valentine's day!

Of course it had to be on a Monday. Not a Sunday or even a Wednesday, but it had to be one of his workdays. Which he could've called off. He didn't even need to work, which was Pouf's greatest grievance with the entire situation; everything could be provided for, if only his partner would just stay put and accept the luxury that could be given, painlessly and effortlessly. Nevertheless, his partner's sheer insistence on holding down a job and wanting to "feel accomplished" in some way was the final verdict. It made him happy to bring in a paycheck, and that personal pride and joy was something Pouf couldn't bring himself to take from him. Even when it bothered him more than usual.

Both of them knew this holiday had been coming up, making the separation sting even more. He could've even called out in advance if he was that concerned about his line of work, but he chose to go in, chose to leave his partner alone, freezing to death without a warm embrace; eight hours would surely be long enough for the cold to lull him into a deep slumber, enough to pass the lonely hours, perhaps culminating in being awoken in the way fairytales tend to end, frost thawed to a dew under the warmth of true love.

He checked the clock. Only two hours had gone by. Two hours. There were still six more he had to wait before he could spend the remainder of the holiday drowning in affection. The day itself was arbitrary, they could be exceedingly, exceptionally loving towards one another any day on the calender, but it was more about the gesture and thought. The day was themed for love and romance and it would be such a waste to let it go unaddressed, without a single kiss or "I love you" exchanged.

The intent behind the gestures was always what drove Pouf forward. He'd suspected that their marriage wasn't legally binding, but it didn't matter. The fact that they had gone through the effort, made the plans, had the rings, performed the vows, declaring their love to the heavens in front of the entire palace, all of it was the closest he'd ever came to experiencing true magic. The legality didn't matter to him, and he suspected his partner didn't think much of it either; the delight in showing off what they'd cultivated as a couple was the true prize. Wearing those matching gold rings as a symbol of fidelity, loyalty, unwavering devotion to each other, for the first week afterwards he felt tears in his eyes each time he glanced at the ring.

The same rang true for the titles they used for one another; all were purely affectionate and indicated that level of special attention a significant other gets, that certain warmth behind "boyfriend" always made his heart swell with pride and joy, "husband" even more so. While the former was indicative of commitment for its own sake, awash with the excitement of experiencing it for the first time, the latter pushed it farther, doubling down on devotion, promising one another to never waver, symbolic in their ceremony and in the golden rings. He'd turned the words over in his mind more times than he could count. He'd been someone's boyfriend, he'd held affections toward someone that had returned them so strongly that he'd earned the title of a romantic partner. He was still someone's partner, someone had promised to be his partner, his partner. He had a husband. He was someone's husband.

He glanced back at the clock. Only three more minutes had passed. He'd felt anxiety and impatience before, but nothing like his current level. What could that boy even be doing now? Only taxing himself, expending needless energy on pointless tasks, meaningless repetition for an unwavering audience. Pouf never let an action go to waste. He took special care when paying attention as he knew his partner didn't have the best memory, so he took it upon himself to not only help him stay present and on track, but to also to act as an affectionate extension of his memory, keeping in mind whenever he was gifted something, whenever his partner's shifts ran long so an impromptu romantic dinner could be prepared, anything he could get his hands on to show his fondness. Even in repetition, there was still a great amount of care in the actions, absolutely nothing like that demeaning "job" his partner so badly wanted to hold on to.

He'd expressed his grievances with the job before, but never to the full extent that he held them. More than anything, he wanted him to quit. His partner struggled with chronic health conditions, physical and psychological, and Pouf knew without a doubt in his mind that the work had to be placing a strain on his entire being, and if he continued he could shatter. The very thought made the already-present ache in his chest grow stronger. He was genuinely concerned for his partner's wellbeing.. amongst other things. Truthfully, it was the absence that got to him, mocked and gnawed away at him. The two barely had time for one another anymore, and the ever-shifting schedules made it difficult to plan anything in advance. They'd made a promise to be together.. and then rarely saw one another. While he wouldn't necessarily say that he wanted to monopolize his partner's time per se, he did wish they could have more time together. Much more time. Just the two of them.

Two more minutes had passed. He was torn between attempting to entertain himself with a book or to continue wallowing in his own misery. It felt like a betrayal to his partner if he chose to ignore how tight his chest had become. He sighed and laced his fingers together, glancing towards the empty doorway-

"Rigel!"

How long had he been standing there?

Pouf stumbled over his words, ten different questions on his mind at once. His partner smiled wider and softly laughed at his disbelief.

His partner had one hand on the doorframe, the other gripping his bag. He flashed a wide, playful grin.

"Hey Lovebug!"

With six hours remaining on the clock, there was no way he could've even gone to work at all; he was dressed far too nicely for menial labor as well, in a red faux-silk button up and dress pants.

"I took the day off in advance; I'm sorry I told you I wasn't gonna be here, I really wanted to surprise you."

Pouf attempted to mask his excitement with a pout. He crossed his arms and, with an exaggerated full body gesture, shut his eyes and turned away.

"I was very upset." He couldn't bring himself to sound like it. He could hear footsteps and the jingle of the charms on his bag as it was set down.

"I-", he drew the sound out, "-was lied to." If he'd been masking at all, it had completely slipped away. His tone was playful, the smile he spoke with evident in his voice alone. He felt the couch dip down as his partner sat down next to him, while he himself stood his ground. He felt the weight behind him shift nearer before being enveloped with warmth as Rigel slipped his arms around him, leaning into a hug from behind. It was always tricky to do so, trying to avoid messing with his wings too much, but after years of repetition, it was practically second nature to him.

"I am so sorry." He enunciated each word in the same light and airy tone, causing Pouf's weak facade to crumble even faster as he tried to stifle a giggle; he reoriented himself, his partner's grip loosening as Pouf turned to face him, wrapping his arms around his waist to tug him closer.

"I miss you." He smiled wistfully. "I feel like I barely see you."

"I know..." He chuckled as he said so, looking off to the side.

Pouf was silent.

"You don't even like it. I haven't seen you pick up a book or draw anything since that job began, and I know for a fact that it's detrimental for you to not have those outlets. You barely have energy as it is, and the work you perform is demeaning, there are so many better applications of your ability, and- you came home crying that one day-"

"Pouf." He was perpetually concerned, trapped in a constant state of worry, for his partner, his monarch, his siblings, himself. Over time, he had gotten noticeably better at not letting it sweep him away, but his anxieties still gnawed at him. His partner would never tell him, lest he encourage it further, but he did enjoy the feeling of someone keeping that close of an eye on him. Within reason, anyways.

Rigel smiled wryly at the barrage of nerves. "I have the best news for you-"

"You're quitting?!"

Wait. He didn't say that. Did he just insult his husband? While in front of him? The silence seemed to grow tense, but Rigel only grinned wider.

"This is my last week-!" He'd barely spoken the words when Pouf practically yanked him into a tight hug, hollering and laughing, gently squeezing him in his arms.

"I'm so glad," the relief evident in his sigh. He rested his chin on his partner's shoulder, holding him snug. His heart was already racing from receiving such good news, yet it pounded harder as he remembered the date.

"Did you do it for me?" He spoke slowly, measuring out the words in wonder. Pouf had had to work quite hard to internalize what their relationship truly meant to him emotionally; logically he knew he was loved, but putting the pieces together and really seeing that he was loved was incredibly difficult. His partner had made choices in the past solely because of him, and he was feeling just enough confidence in himself to consider the idea. He pulled away to look his partner in the eyes, his own eyes wide as he took in the sheer magnitude of possibility, now that there wasn't a retail job intruding.

"I mean, kinda. There were a lot of things that were going on and you nailed a lot of them. I am tired, I barely have hobbies anymore; the income was nice but the personal price is getting too high." He looked somber for a moment. "But yeah no, you were definitely a big part of why I decided to leave." He leaned forward and gave Pouf a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, making him smile wider and once more attempt to stifle a giggle. Truthfully, the job position had been over a set period of time that was drawing to a close, but Rigel chose to omit that detail. After seeing his tendency to worry himself sick, spiral, and berate himself, anything that made him smile or beam with pride was valuable; it was barely even a lie - he did, in fact, miss spending quality time with Pouf. It would be an understatement to say that it would be nice to actually plan a date, which neither of them had done in months. They tried only once and never made it out the door due to Rigel's exhaustion. Yes, having the time again would be wonderful.

"Oh! Hold on." Rigel gently wriggled out of Pouf's grip to rummage through his bag. "I got something for you!"

Pouf whined. "You know you don't have to do this, besides, I already made plans for this evening-"

"You didn't even think I'd be here! Is it so wrong for me to want to celebrate the man I love?" He looked Pouf in the eyes; he knew Rigel was deeply uncomfortable with eye contact under most other circumstances, so he always felt just a bit honored and just that much more special when he looked at him like that. He felt a blush creep across his face as he turned the phrase over again in his mind. The man he loves, that was him!

He watched with admiration as Rigel took a small lidded box from the bag and passed it to Pouf, who fit it neatly in the palm of his hand. Upon receiving it, he trailed his finger around the edge of the lid, before looking back to his partner, feeling unsure.

"Shaia, I want you to have it. I got it for you." His voice was comforting, soft and warm.

Pouf was silent, looking down at the box. He preferred giving. Giving gifts, giving praise, giving affection in all its forms; receiving was much more difficult and was often something he felt he had to earn, continually surprising him whenever his partner said that he loved him or took his hand into his own without a preceding action to cause it. It wasn't discomfort necessarily, but a deep set feeling of unworthiness that roughly two years of being together had only barely managed to chip away at.

He turned the box around in his hands. He loved his husband. He wanted to let his husband love him. He knew he was loved. He wanted to feel comfortable letting it show in gestures.

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling and opening his eyes as he steadied himself. He opened the box. Inside was a small lapel pin, in a shape immediately recognizable as-

"A green carnation!" He'd gasped upon seeing it; the flower symbolized love between men and had been featured at their wedding. Pouf himself didn't think all that much about his attraction to men; it wasn't anything that was ever brought up as odd. His younger brother appeared to lean the same way in attraction, while his older sibling was queer in gender. It was simply natural to him, so he never put much thought into how feminine his partner looked until there was a formal "coming out", as he'd put it. After learning that he'd occasionally feel insecure in his own identity, Pouf began to go out of his way to assuage his partner's worries, calling him handsome, his prince, every masculine term he could find. When Rigel had shown him the carnations and told him what they meant, suggesting them as an alternative to the roses that stoked his anxiety, Pouf had cried.

He was conscious of how roses acted as a psychological trigger and was frustrated by his inability to overcome it - what kind of passionate lover doesn't give their partner roses? - but upon realizing he could turn the gesture around and make it meaningful to both of them, he did so without hesitation, tears in his eyes and love in his heart. The flowers were similar to roses, yes, but just different enough that his anxiety didn't spike while looking at them; he hoped they could be an intermediate step, and one day he could give his lover a real rose, deep red and soft as satin, he himself would break the thorns off the stem with his own hands, just for him. But even then, those green flowers would be theirs, uniquely their own, the very icon of their love.

He took the pin from the box and tilted it, reflecting the light off the surface. He couldn't help but begin tearing up, thinking of his wedding, his courtship, his sheer luck in being so openly and clearly loved. He looked up at his partner, tears already staining his face as he smiled.

"I love you." His voice wavered as he cried. "Thank you-" his chest heaved in a sob he simply couldn't stifle as Rigel reached out to pull him into a hug, a gesture Pouf enthusiastically returned, throwing his arms around him and burying his face in the crook of his neck. As the weeping became softer, Rigel turned to kiss him. "I love you too". He spoke ever quieter.

#this is the first half! third? probably half! i havent actually written the rest.. but i managed to get this done!! #self ship fic #butterfly kisses