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monstersdownthepath · 2 years

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Deity: The Council of Absolutes

(art by @blinkpen!)

Neutral Evil Gods* of Knowledge, Ice, and Analytical Thinking

Domains: Evil, Knowledge, Magic, Water, Void Subdomains: Velstrac, Education, Truth**, Arcane, Divine, Rites, Ice Favored Weapon: Light Crossbow Symbol: A pair of ice-encrusted calipers clutching a skull, a gemstone, a planet, a marble, or another symbolic, spherical object Sacred Animal(s): Owl Sacred Color(s): Blue, white, black

*Individually, the Council are demigod-level entities, but their combined power allows them to access as wide a range of Domains as a true deity. **Followers of the Council of Absolutes may select the Truth Subdomain when taking the Knowledge Domain, replacing the Remote Viewing granted power and the spells at the appropriate levels.

It is said that, in ages past, the first mortal (or immortal, or god, in some tales) to open their eyes and see the wonders around them spoke six Burning Questions into existence. These curious, flitting beings coursed from the mortal to seek answers to themselves, colorful as rainbows, bright as stars, eager as children. Joyous and free, Who?, What?, Where?, When?, and How? saw creation stretching out before them as an endless buffet of answers

But, so the story goes, one was not so lucky.

The siblings reconvened eons later with all they had learned, eager to share the answers they had gathered with one another, but they found their sixth, the oldest of them, curled and broken. Bent with age, mad with hunger, cold as stone and just as dull, it could only look to its brethren and repeat itself to them: Why?

They did not know what their sibling had found to harm it so, but for their part they fought to try and give the poor thing answers so it would grow just as vibrant and warm as they.

Who? offered the names of all the men and beasts it had come across, but Why? asked only of their purpose, their uses. What? came forward with knowledge of stone and sea, wind and fire, and all the wonders that had sprung up from each, but Why? demanded yet more ways they could be remade. Where? showed its broken brethren all the grand locations in the cosmos, all the planets and planes, all the stars, everywhere that existed from top to bottom, but Why? demanded to know what lay behind it all. When? brought the chilled being back and forth, showing it what came before, what comes after, what could be, what is, what might yet come to pass, but still Why? pushed to go earlier, to go later, to see more of what may be, far past the boundaries When? had explored. Finally, in a bid of desperation, How? took all the answers that had been offered and enthusiastically began explaining how this vast and beautiful cosmos worked in the vain hope that Why? may find some solace in how everything fit together into one beautiful whole.

Why? merely demanded to know what the purpose of a machine so grand was.

And the siblings were silent. For all the answers they had found, this one was beyond them. It was something they could never answer.

They searched far and wide for an answer that would satisfy their sibling, but no matter what they brought, Why? was never happy. It is likely that it could never be, but they struggled nonetheless to try and please it, as the possibility of failure was something unfamiliar to beings so young. In time, it devoured their warmth, their love, their joy, their passion, their light, taking from them everything they found beautiful in seeking their answers until their search became an obligation. Until they had scoured the cosmos for answers and came up wanting. Until they were forced to dig their new and icy claws into existence and begin tearing at it to find more, more, more, utterly transforming them from brilliant and beautiful creatures to ones of endless, destructive hunger.

There are many stories dedicated to explaining the callous cruelty of the frigid beings known as the Council of Absolutes, five monolithic figures shrouded in frosted robes, differentiated only by the strange, angular masks they wear. This is but one of them, the most popular, stating their early existence was something wondrous and feylike corrupted by gluttony and greed as many beings are vulnerable to. Many say they are daemons, or Great Old Ones, or velstrac. Others claim they’re fey, or once-mortal mages ascended by their quest for enlightenment. Some even go so far as to claim the story above is indeed true, but the sixth has simply stripped so much of their whimsy away that they can no longer conceive of a time when they could have been so passionate and free.

However, the truth may be that their beginnings were much more mundane, and they will say as much if asked: They are a gathering of six demigods, eschewing the bondage of morality in their quest for knowledge, but their frankly alien behavior and bizarre curiosities allow strange minds to concoct innumerable stories to explain them. Some believe them to be lying of their origins, which is frankly insulting; the Council does not lie. About anything. Even when the truth is damaging. Especially when the truth is damaging.

The goal of the Council of Absolutes is the accumulation of knowledge. Not any specific type, but all of it, in every subject. They care nothing for the chaotic subjectivity of art or beauty, and eschew the “pseudosciences” of fields such as philosophy and culture altogether to focus on whatever yields pure, raw, quantifiable data, all of which is obtained through whatever means possible regardless of how inconsequential the information is. They rarely, if ever, apply the knowledge they gain towards anything but the acquisition of yet more, the vast majority of their gathered answers catalogued and shelved away in their icy archives, rarely to be touched upon again. If a question is posed, they will answer it, no matter the destruction they may cause when assembling the materials needed for the experiment, to say nothing of what catastrophe may occur when the experiment is enacted.

Worse still, the Council approaches all questions with the exact same level of energy and devotion. Math problems are examined with the same intensity they would display splitting apart a living being to study its interior, and they concoct plans to extract the graphite from a pencil for analysis with as much determination and focus as they would assemble a terrible machine to stop a world’s rotation to take notes on the resulting apocalypse. There is no such thing as a ‘hypothetical’ question to the Council; all will prompt serious experimentation, even when logic--or, indeed, common sense--would otherwise provide a clear answer. Tell them the sky is blue, and rather than simply looking up, they will work to tear a chunk of the atmosphere down to confirm it themselves.

To the Council, and to those who worship them, the only barrier around an answer should be the difficulty of the question and the resources and research needed to answer it. There is no such thing as “forbidden” knowledge, or knowledge “too dangerous to allow,” nor are there “things we’re not meant to know.” The very existence of such concepts is one of the few things that can cause the otherwise dispassionate Council to focus their efforts on obtaining it in a manner similar to a display of anger. The closer guarded a secret is, the more fervently they will work to pry it from its keeper and the more terrifying the consequences for those who’ve stood in their way.

Those who’ve seen the Council of Absolutes from a distance will state that there are five of them, not six as the stories say, but those who’ve actually met them know that the frigid mist that swirls around them speaks with a voice just as empty as the rest of them, forming limbs and features as needed to interact with the world at large. Even in the frequent instances when they separate from one another, the mist clings to each one with equal strength so that they are never truly alone. Though individually they have been fought and, at least twice in recorded history, killed, the mists are seemingly impossible to slay or disperse and will eventually resurrect fallen members of the Council one by one.

While none of the members of the Council--known individually as Magisters--focus entirely on a single subject (and indeed, they can and do perform experiments in any field they become curious of), each of them possesses a specialty that makes them the authority in specific fields and the one each other member defers to and/or reports to when experiments are performed in those specific fields. The members of the Council and their primary areas of study, presented in numerical order (determined by the number of crown-like angles on their masks) are as follows:

Qulses, the Magister of Examinations (formerly, if one believes the Burning Questions story, the Question of Who). The cold anatomist, the biologist and microbiologist, the alchemist, the vivisectionist. Quises is primarily invested in the study of all forms of life, and all creatures which could potentially be called ‘alive’ (including mechanical and undead life). From microbes to titans, all creatures which catch the Magister’s attention are often subjected to numerous stressors and stimuli as it tests the limits of their bodies and the function of their forms. Most beings subjected to its ministrations simply perish from the attention, but many more emerge bearing new and alien powers.

Quoltis, the Magister of Fabrication (formerly the Question of What). The chemist, the stonemason, the engineer, the elementalist. Quoltis is the examiner of all things lifeless and inorganic; stone and metal, gem and soil, but also all gasses, liquids, plasma, and the infinite elements which result from their combination. It frequently assists Qulses in alchemical experiments, though it alone is the primary craftsman and creator of tools which aid the Council’s research... and often it creates items just to prove that they could be made, regardless of if they should have been made. Many of the Quoltis’ inventions are left in the hands of those who should never have them so it can observe what others do with them.

Tseibu, the Magister of Location (formerly the Question of Where). The traveler, the star-walker, the door-maker. Tseibu charts distance and direction and serves as the cosmic cartographer for the Council, mapping out new lands for them to exploit for their purposes. More than a traveler, though, Tseibu is frequently the partner to other members of the Council as they examine the new locations and begin running experiments on the populations, and is the authority on geography, climatology, astronomy, and most other location-based sciences. Tseibu more than almost any of the others has caused and solved numerous problems for the lives of the worlds the Council has visited as its various portals and gateways are left unattended and unused for centuries at a time.

Tipicni, the Magister of Numbers (formerly the Question of When). The mathematician, the chronologist, the statistician, the physicist; Tipicni is all of these and more for the Council. Working hand in hand with other members more often than not, the Magister of Numbers is a living calculator of nigh-unmatched accuracy and complexity, and its focus of study is, among other things, constructing accurate predictions of future events based on present data (not that this will stop the Council from manipulating or examining the foreseen events personally), measure the effects of entropy on various subjects and substances, and in-depth analysis of the “laws” of physics and just how rigid they truly are when tested.

Miquia, the Magister of Cause (formerly the Question of How). The archivist, the second opinion, the failsafe, the solver of puzzles. To the Council, an answer obtained is of little worth if they are unaware of how this answer came to be, of how all the interactions of every part of their experiment led to this specific conclusion, and if a small change could potentially yield a completely different result. The true omnidisciplinary scientist of the Council well versed in all forms of action-reaction and cause-effect chains, Miquia provides such answers. It is also the Magister of Cause who frequently repeats previous experiments done by the Council to see if the result changes as different factors are applied or removed, so a visit by one member of the Council is sure to draw the attention of at least one more.

Finally, surrounding each Magister are the living mists, referred to as Magister Odomouq, the Frost Cradle, the Magister of Questions (or the Question of Why). The most important member of the Council by a wide margin, as the withdrawn and alien nature of the other Magisters often prevents other beings from providing them with answers to seek. It is the bottomless curiosity of the Frost Cradle which drives them, preventing them from ever having a moment of respite from their quest to answer every question that can possibly be asked. Odomouq defends and assists each member of the Council in their duties, conjuring icy limbs or shields of frost as required, and assures the Council is eternal, resurrecting them in short order if they perish.

Uniquely, it is thought that the Magister of Questions is also the silent archivist of anthropology (and all its smaller branches), linguistics, theology, philosophy, and other such malleable fields that rely on opinion, consensus, and/or cooperation that the rest of the Council believes yield no worthwhile (i.e. concrete, provable) data. As it refuses to communicate with any being outside the Council (and the Magisters themselves do not acknowledge the topic, seeing it as ‘irrelevant’), this cannot be proven conclusively... but there are areas of their frozen archives which bear collections of knowledge that aren’t absolute, such as opinions of art pieces and explorations of literary themes and updates to dictionaries as the meanings of words evolve over time, which all bear the signs of being frequently revisited and rewritten, something the Council only rarely ever does for other subjects.

The five physical members of the Council are shrouded in icy robes with clothes and masks that prevent any from seeing even a hint of flesh. Temperatures plummet when they are nearby, even Hellfire dimming when they approach as frost forms over every available surface. Their barest touch can cause lethal levels of frostbite in any creature, the cold so penetratingly intense that not even full immunity to frost can counter it. Only during their experiments does this cold subside to a survivable level, their curiosity reigniting just enough heat within them to turn their touch from lethal to merely damaging. Thankfully they rarely use their actual hands, as they are able to form grasping limbs or tools directly from the Frost Cradle to interact with their surrounds as needed. In situations requiring an even gentler touch, their extremely versatile telekinesis is employed, eliminating the risk of contaminating or harming their subjects more than necessary altogether.

------ Obedience and Boons ------

As beings of knowledge without limits, the Council of Absolutes does not bar any creature or creed from their faith. Anyone or anything desiring knowledge, especially knowledge that has been denied to them, can plead to the Council for divine inspiration and protection... Even, uniquely, those with an alignment of Neutral, and even Good. This allows creatures with the Good alignment to access the Evil Domain (and Velstrac Subdomain) and cast the spells within, which would otherwise be impossible for them, though Good beings in the service of the Council of Absolutes rarely stay so. Each Magister preaches that morality stands in the way of truth, and only by undoing the chain of ethics can one finally reach their goal... but if someone manages to complete their picture by coloring within the lines, then who are they to stand in the way of that one’s pursuit of knowledge? As such the Council does not punish followers from straying out of their alignment, though this does not protect a character from losing access to specific feats, class features, or entire classes should their alignment change to one incompatible with them.

In spite of their acceptance, the Council of Absolutes are, as one may expect, uncaring and dispassionate gods. Their relationship with their faith can be roughly summed up as “distant relatives,” with emphasis on distance. The Council has a distinct ‘hands off’ approach to those who gather in their names, rarely directly acknowledging even their most fanatic devotees and have never been moved to action by their followers’ pleas, ironically making them excellent deities for those who care little for gods in the first place and simply see them as a means to an end in a quest for higher learning (a view the Council shares). As they are almost always absorbed with their own tasks and seeking their own answers, the amount of interactions they have with their cabal of fellow knowledge seekers amounts largely to whatever magic the Divine casters gain and use to assist their own immediate clergy with their quests for answers. Groups devoted to the Council are thus kept small, based entirely around Clerics, Oracles, or similar blessed by the frozen gods, who use their magic to aid themselves and their fellows with their own personal experiments.

The Council believes no barriers should impair the flow of knowledge, but the restrictions placed upon the divine are a burden they must bear to continue their work without interruption. This in combination with their hands-off faith means divine inspiration is given with extreme rarity and, due to the mentioned restrictions, is never a direct answer to the follower in need; rather, it often strikes in the form of instructions on how to obtain what is needed to get the answer in one’s own time, the process of experimentation and understanding how the answer was gained as important as the answer itself. For the desperate and determined, using magic or ritual to draw their attention directly is possible.

Once the gaze of the Council is caught, though, there is only one mode of communication they will accept: A question must be asked, which they will then provide an answer to (or set out to research if an answer cannot be immediately provided). Any other use of their time and attention is seen as a waste, especially if it’s a follower with pages of discovery they’re eager to show to the Council, believing they’re presenting something worthwhile to the frozen gods. The Council accepts no answers or research from any source outside of themselves (they view all other beings as inherently tainted by bias and thus an unreliable source of data), and any attempt to provide them with such is sure to offend them in a way that may be fatal for the provider at best, or spell doom for the surrounds at worst as they feel obligated to double-check their followers’ work as quickly as possible.

While their separate selves may be ‘merely’ demigod level, the full assembled might of the Council of Absolutes puts them on the level of a true deity. Thus, the Deific Obedience feat grants one access to their power: Boons which are gained once someone amasses 12, 16, and 20 Hit Dice. By entering the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel Prestige Classes, one may achieve these Boons significantly faster, gaining them at 8, 11, and 14 Hit Dice instead.

Obedience: Spend one hour advancing your own understanding of a single subject. If you do not have the material to do so, instead spend one hour educating another creature on a subject you are well-versed in. Benefit: You gain a +4 profane bonus to one Knowledge skill and one Craft skill of your choice, and are treated as being trained in them if you are untrained.

------ EVANGELIST ------

Boon 1: Thorough Analysis (Sp): Gain Authenticating Gaze 3/day, Investigative Mind 2/day, or Meticulous Match 1/day.

Boon 2: Expanded Repertoire (Su): Evangelists of the Council are expected to be flexible in all fields. As such, you treat all Knowledge skills as class skills, even if you fail to complete your Obedience (though you still lose this if you abandon the faith). For 24 hours after completing your Obedience, however, you also gain a profane bonus to all Knowledge checks equal to half your total Hit Dice. This bonus stacks with the bonus gained from Bardic Knowledge and similar abilities.

Boon 3: Preserve the Specimen (Su): As your breadth of knowledge grows, so too must your ability to gather subjects to further your research. Once per day as a standard action, you may touch an unattended object weighing less than 500 pounds or a creature of Large size or smaller that is willing or helpless to transport them into a pocket space only you may access. While in this space, the object or creature is placed in stasis; any condition, spell, or effect upon them has its duration suspended. Time essentially ceases to flow for the subject of this effect. It does not grow older, nor can any force or effect harm it. Creatures are mercifully unconscious while held in this way. Any attempt at scrying on the subject or divining its location reveals yours, instead.

You may have only five subjects stored away in this manner, and can retrieve them as a standard action. They appear in a space adjacent to you, or in the closest space available that can hold something of their size. If you are slain, all stored subjects are released at once.

------ EXALTED ------

Boon 1: Duties of a Scholar (Sp): Gain Burst of Insight 3/day, Gentle Repose 2/day, or Nap Stack 1/day.

Boon 2: Eschew Morality (Ex): Good and Evil are barriers you must brush aside in your journey for understanding. You may learn and cast spells whose alignment restrictions would normally prevent you from doing so, though you may only cast them if you’ve performed your Obedience in the last 24 hours. You may activate magic items and spell-completion items with alignments opposed to your own without penalty or requiring the use of Use Magic Device. This ability does not protect you from any consequences that may arise from casting spells or using items with alignments dramatically opposed to your own. If you abandon the faith, all divine spells with an alignment opposed to yours disappear from your mind.

Boon 3: Without Boundary (Ex): Each time you complete your Obedience, you may select one spell of each spell level you are able to cast from the Wizard/Sorcerer, Cleric/Oracle, Psychic, or Druid spell lists. These spells are added to your spells known for the next 24 hours, or until you next complete your Obedience. Despite their origin being divine power, they retain whatever magic type they were before (Divine, Arcane, Psychic) and carry the restrictions of those spell types (Arcane is difficult to cast in heavy armor, Psychic requires one to be free of emotion-affecting effects, etc).

------ SENTINEL ------

Boon 1: Absolute Cold (Sp): Gain Chill Touch 3/day, Flurry of Snowballs 2/day, or Ice Spears 1/day.

Boon 2: Absolute Precision (Su): Sentinels of the Council can gain supernatural insight against any beast or matter they strike to assure future blows are as damaging as possible. Three times per day as a swift action, you may align your weapon precisely with the weak points of a target you can see and have successfully struck with your weapon within the last minute. Until the end of your turn, your weapon ignores half the Damage Reduction, Hardness, and/or elemental Resistance of the target. Round down each time. Your weapon damage deals an additional 2d6 precision damage to the target of this ability, even if the target would normally be immune to precision damage.

Boon 3: Animate Avalanche (Su): The Council abhors relying on brutality, outsourcing it whenever possible to keep themselves from becoming distracted. You gain a measure of this power, able to call upon a pair of Neutral Evil Elder Ice Elementals once per day as a full-round action, the Elementals appearing adjacent to you. These Elementals follow your orders dutifully, even at the cost of their own lives, for 1 round per HD you have, after which they (or their remains) vanish.

#Original Concepts #Pathfinder #pathfinder homebrew

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chaozsilhouette · 3 years

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Moonlit Musings

The night is such a perfect time to face one’s darkest truths. Shrouded in the moon’s light what can one do but admit to their flaws. It can be a time of rejuvenation and rebirth, only if you let it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

It was a quiet night.

The full moon hung high in the heavens accompanied by millions of stars. Not a cloud to be seen, an ideal night for passions to run wild. Normally people would be taking out their telescopes or arranging romantic picnics.

Sadly, nights like these only filled Sun Wukong with dread. It was a night like this when he was finally able to return after the Journey. That was the night he learned he had lost a precious treasure.

When he returned, he expected to be greeted by his subjects until Macaque showed himself. He expected to be strangled as the pale furred monkie admonished him for his recklessness. He expected to watch as fury transformed into tearful joy as they embraced one another for the first time in over five hundred years.

But that wasn’t what happened.

The moment he set foot back onto Flower Fruit Mountain, he sensed something was very wrong. Like his previous return trips, his subjects greeted him with loud celebrations. The new mothers showed off their infants. The young ones wasted no time climbing all over him, taking in the scent of their king.

The immortal elders, however, looked concerned.

That was when he realized Macaque’s scent on the mountain was far too faint. Even the magical signature of his clones no longer felt fresh.

Macaque was nowhere to be found. The monkeys reported Macaque had returned a few years after he stopped by the mountain earlier in the Journey but not as his usual self. He didn’t respond to any of their questions. He didn’t even take time to check in on the infants. He didn’t say a word.

He just entered the mansion, but no one saw him leave.

Entering the mansion, Wukong dashed to their room desperate for answers. Opening the doors, he saw the room was horribly empty, sure all of his belonging were exactly as he remembered them, but all of Macaque’s stuff was gone. Macaque’s closet was empty and all his books had vanished. Despite his desperate hopes, there wasn’t any signs of a struggle or hidden messages to be found.

Macaque left of his own free will, but why?

He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the bed they shared so many nights together. Every time he dared, he awoke expect to be greeted with the comforting warmth of familiar presence, instead he opened his eyes to a cold emptiness.

The lack of answers broke his heart, but he didn’t have time to start tearing the landscape apart trying to find him. Now that he was back for good, he had so many responsibilities to catch up on. He was determined to be a good king for his subjects and that meant ughthinking things through. Plus, he wanted to spend as much time with his master and brothers as possible.

Then there was the concerning fact all his previous allies had severed their alliance with him.

Apparently after all the fuss with the Demon Bull King, word had spread that Wukong broke their alliance by disrespecting protocol and attacking the royal family. Plus, his new position as a defender of humanity annoyed more than a few respectable demons. Combined with the sheer number of powerful demons he killed on the Journey cemented the idea that having an alliance with him would only end poorly.

He was banned from court meetings and the other kings in the surrounding areas wanted nothing to do with him. The chaotic nature of his past had finally caught up to him and in the worst possible way.

He was still recognized as the Monkey King of the Sun Court but was effectively blacklisted. No one wanted to mess with him, but they also didn’t want to interact with him. Not good for his mental health to say the least.

Simians are naturally social creatures. Wukong was used to constantly being around other people and learning new things. His time imprisoned was not kind. His first year of freedom had him constantly climbing over his brothers and master just to reassure himself that this was real.

And now that he couldn’t reconnect with old faces unless it was through a battle to the death…It forced him to delve into old memories. Memories that while sweet only made the emptiness more pronounced.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Sun Wukong smiled as he watched Macaque’s reaction.

The six-eared monkie was furiously pinching the bridge between his eyebrows after he shattered a boulder with a careless headbutt as though it would make his life mercifully easier. “You’ll have to explain it to me again. What did you mean by ‘no longer under Yama’s jurisdiction’?”

“Exactly what I said. I was napping. Having some time to myself, when out of nowhere some idiots tried to take my soul to the afterlife.” Wukong explained as though having entities of death rip out your soul to drag it to the underworld was no big deal.

“Bet you weren’t happy.” Macaque couldn’t help but smirk at the flippant tone. He just made it so difficult to stay mad.

“Not in the slightest. I barged my way to the top brass, bunch of cowards called the Ten Kings (totally undeserved titles by the way) and demanded what the fuck was going on.” He was still ticked off even if the payoff was sweet. Seriously! Did immortality mean nothing to these cowards? They couldn’t even play it off as him dying in battle. He was in the peak of his youth! “Can you believe they tried to play it off as a misunderstanding? Should have smacked the loudmouth when I was there.”

“So, through a series of ridiculous events, you erased your name from the records of the dead.” Macaque could easily piece together the rest from there. No matter how ridiculous the odds. He learned never to bet against his friend when a problem could be handled with brute strength or intimidation. If it didn’t look like such an answer was possible, clearly, they hadn’t experienced the force of a determined Wukong. Something about facing a ticked off monkie of practically infinite strength and invulnerability left harden conquerors pissing themselves.

It was hilarious.

“Not just mine. In my infinite wisdom, I erased the names of several of the monkey inhabitants of esteemed Flower Fruit Mountain, including yours.” Wukong playfully booped Macaque’s nose.

Turning away to hide a light blush, Macaque scoffed to cover his embarrassing response. “Typical. I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you doing something insane.”

“I know. I’m just that awesome.”

“So what? Are we now double immortal?” That was the question wasn’t it. Due to their master’s instructions, they were immortal and ageless, so what exactly would this give them? He didn’t feel any different. He couldn’t sense any new powers or changes in his instincts.

His counterpart, however, had other things on his mind. “Who cares. All I know is that those idiots have no control over our souls anymore.” And with that the King took his rightful place across Macaque’s lap as the other returned to his scrolls.

Wukong instead took the time to examine his friend, who finally gained enough confidence to fully drop his glamour and embrace his true appearance.

He still couldn’t believe Macaque actually had six ears. The weird part was how natural they looked, almost as if seeing him with only two was bizarre. The coolest part was how each pair softly glowed a different color. Blue. Purple. Red. Sometimes Wukong would just stare at them, imagining that he could see glittering stars emanating from that glow.

Suddenly those magnificent ears twitched. Macaque didn’t bother looking up from the bamboo scroll. “A trespasser...multiple, boar and vulture demon. Another hunting party”.

“Again. Ugh. Don’t these idiots ever give up!” Don’t get him wrong, Wukong loved a good fight. What better way to prove how superior you are to others than to steal what’s most precious to them? But even he was starting to grow bored with the sheer number of hunters that thought kidnapping his subjects was a quick cash grab.

After the fifth army he returned in pieces to the surrounding upstart lords, you’d think they’d take a hint.

Thankfully he wasn’t the only powerhouse on the mountain. “I haven’t tasted blood in a while. Why don’t I defend the kingdom while your highness enjoys a show?” Macaque set aside his reading material, eyes glittering with bloodlust.

Wukong returned the smirk with one of his own. “I’m always up for a good thrashing. One request: make it glorious.”

“Don’t I always.” Macaque joked as he retrieved his spear from his own shadow.

Wukong summoned his cloud and claimed a good vantage point. Once again, he marveled at his friend’s hearing. Judging by the distance it would have been at least three hours before he would have detected their presence.

Kicking back, he transformed some hair into a fruit platter and waited for the screams.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

To this day, Wukong knew Macaque was alive. Thanks to his efforts combined with the intense training, the monkie was double immortal. Besides, that monkkie was way too stubborn to die. He would survive purely on spite if he had to.

Macaque left, but why?

While he may have effectively isolated himself, that didn’t mean he didn’t hear about the other courts. A few centuries ago, he heard rumors about the formation of a new court by someone under the title of the Macaque King. Supposedly they were a powerful monkie who knew way more than he had the right to. For a brief moment, Wukong dared to hope it was his old friend, but it didn’t last. The few recounts he caught described him with black fur. Besides, he knew how much Macaque hated the title of King. Even when Wukong offered him the position as co-ruler of his kingdom, the pale monkie adamantly refused.

Still, he was curious.

For a few weeks he could have sworn he detected a familiar scent hiding underneath Mk’s. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. A few of the immortal monkeys questioned him on the mango infused scent and what his plans were. It was almost too much to take in.

To think he returned to teach his student instead of showing his face. It hurt just to think about it. He chose to ignore the beckoning scent until it became impossible to ignore MK’s leap in progress. Then it just vanished like it hadn’t been testing his patience. Like it hadn’t brought him to the brink of shaking the kid upside down until he confessed where his old friend was hiding. The kid probably grew wise, or someone told him to change his bathing habits, and by the next training session it was all but gone.

Dragging his hand down his face, Wukong tried to reevaluate his thoughts.

Getting mad at the kid wasn’t going to solve anything. He knew he hadn’t been the most attentive master. Hell, the whole hammer exercise at its core was a desperate attempt to remove a painful reminder of better times. His master would be disappointed in how he was running away from his problems, but would encourage him to take the steps to be better. Zhu Bajie would be a sarcastic little shit, trying to get him riled up so the monkie would prove him wrong. Sha Wujing would sit him down and wouldn’t let him leave until they talked everything through.

He had to make things right with the kid. He deserved a better master. And this New Years he was gonna get one.

He spoke, praying the winds would carry his voice to his Warrior.

“Macaque. I know it’s been a while, but…I-I want to talk. I know you’re out there, somewhere I can’t reach. I miss sparring with you. I miss lazy days napping in the shade by your side. I miss defending the mountain as we held contests to see who could take out the most trespassers before their common sense kicked in. I miss you. Please come home.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The moon was high in the sky. Stars danced in the heavens as the faintest hints of vibrations pulsed through the concrete from the late-night dance clubs. MK lay awake, his mind struggling to make sense of it all.

Ever since Macaque disappeared in order to remain undetected, he kept thinking about his relationship with the Monkey King. Sure, he was being trained and he was definitely making progress. The monkie was still on his case for supposedly cheating on him with another mentor. Nothing MK said or did could make the monkie think otherwise. Thankfully, he was no longer shooting him suspicious glares, but the underlying tension remained.

The sad truth is they just weren’t that close.

He would have expected to learn more about the Monkey King on a personal and emotional level, but he just couldn’t get past that wall. Their training sessions felt more like just the Monkey King arranged just to get it over with. There was no passion at all.

Okay, perhaps that last bit was an exaggeration.

When you peered past the arrogance and pride, you found one socially awkward monkie. It was similar to Red Son the more he thought about it, both seemed to find it difficult to talk to or relate to others in a friendly setting. Sure, Monkey King projected a friendly demeanor and called him “bud”, but if he didn’t know any better he could have sworn the monkie was afraid to take that final step.

The last few sessions had taken a bit of a turn in a positive direction as Sandy would say. Maybe Monkey King decided it was time to make a change? Maybe this was all a trick so MK would lower his guard and reveal Macaque’s identity? Maybe he was just tired and should have conked out an hour ago?

Maybe.

Reality was so different from the legends. When Tang first introduced him to the Monkey stories, he was hooked. He loved listening to the tales of the infamous trickster that flipped off every major religious figure with unbridled confidence. Meeting the Great Sage in the flesh was like a dream come true until he was exposed to the King’s less pleasant tendencies.

Mk couldn’t help but wonder just how much confidence the Monkey King had in his training skills. Did he ever train someone before? Could MK talk to someone about this without appearing even more ungrateful than he already looked? Why didn’t he stop Red Son from unsealing his father when he was there? Why didn’t he simply seal the entire family when they were reunited? Why did the five times immortal sage decide that now he needed to train a disciple? Was Monkey King not telling him something important?

He had so many questions and not even the foggiest idea of where to start looking. Or perhaps he did?

The truth was he missed Macaque. The dark-furred monkie may have only taught him for a month, but the progress he made and the level of care he was exposed to made him feel as though he had finally unlocked the ability to fly.

He missed the regular grooming. He missed learning about the demon community. He missed learning new ways to mess with Red Son through appropriate court manners.

Watching the fire user freeze up at the term “honorable prince of the Iron Bull Court” just made him laugh, when his hair combusted it really matched his face. Now that he thought about it, were those horns starting to peek out of his forehead? And maybe the slightest hint of a tufted tail swiping the bottom of his coat? Seeing the demon frantically compose himself was a treat he didn’t know he needed. He still had the video saved as one of his favorites, didn’t hurt that Mei caught it at the perfect angle.

Oh yeah, he missed that.

With any luck, New Years would be the start of something better.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On an island that remained surrounded by unquenchable storms, a single black-furred monkie sat cross-legged in a secluded part attached to the palace. All around him fruit trees and bushes bore a hefty bounty releasing an intoxicating scent of life.

Ears twitched.

Macaque opened his eyes, aroused from his meditation. It was odd. He had the faintest sensation that someone had been talking about him. Now that wasn’t exactly unusual, he made plenty of allies and enemies across the centuries. What was odd was that the voice sounded like someone he once cherished.

But that couldn’t be right.

The deceptive silence of his personal orchard gave him no answers. Not that he really expected it to.

For some reason he refused to identify, Macaque turned to the single peach tree in the grove. A tribute from his past and a reminder of his mistakes. But it was also a valuable resource once he learned the truth about the peach’s properties. He used its powers to protect many happy relationships, if only it could have helped him so long ago.

No matter.

He still had many projects to work on, including one successor just rife with insecurities. He honestly felt bad ducking out as he did. If things were different, he would have offered him a new life. His Stars were always happy to welcome a new member into their budding community.

As a bonus, his presence would have interrupted their constant attempts to set him up with new dates. He adored their efforts but being paired with partners who only wanted power or he would view only as friends was not something he enjoyed. Although watching them mentally destroy those they didn’t find suitable for him was quite entertaining.

Either way, New Years was coming up fast and he still needed to approve a few changes. His Stars were determined to make sure this event topped last years in every way possible, but they had to make sure they didn’t set the orchard on fire again. Or worse, they could launch the fireworks into the storm barrier. He wasn’t sure why or how, but the tornadoes and clouds turned different colors as explosions rang throughout the night.

It was beautiful but lost its charm after the third day.

#lego monkie kid au #Vanishing Shadow Au #sun wukong #mk #monkie kid #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #rainbow eared macaque #crazy family #Macaque!Dad

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter eleven rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

In Case You Don’t Live Forever by Ben Platt

The next morning at 6 am, you got in a taxi and made your way to the airport. You packed up all your clothes the night before and told MJ to ship anything else to you. You figured if you waited until a few months, things between you and Peter would be settled and it wouldn’t be too awkward. Or sad. You mainly felt sad.

The sun was rising and your cab sat in stand still traffic. You wiped a few stray tears and looked out the window. You noticed a few people standing by the edge of the highway, taking pictures of the bridge. You couldn’t see because of the glare of the sun in your eyes. You figured it was a sky writer or something like that. But then you noticed people getting out of their cars to take pictures.

“What’s going on?” You asked the cab driver. He turned around. He was an older man with grey hair and thin, black tinted sunglasses. A kind smile poked out from under his mustache.

“There’s something written on the bridge.” He answered.

“Something on the bridge?” You asked.

“See for yourself. We’re not moving anytime soon.”

You got out of the car and squinted in the bridge. Your heart immediately stopped at what you saw. You walked towards the edge of the highway and leaned against the railing. Tears trickled down your eyes, happy ones this time. You blinked them away, not wanting anything to obstruct your view of the bridge.

There on the bridge in big webbed letters spelled out the undeniable phrase:

I LOVE YOU

Just as you were admiring it, Spider-Man swung down and swept you up in his arms. You heard applause and cheering as you two swung away. You held on tightly, as did Spider-Man. He landed on the top of one of the posts of the bridge and set you down, never taking his arms off of your waist. Likewise, you kept your arms around his neck and pressed your body close.

Peter quickly took off his mask and smiled at you. His eyes were puffy, surely from crying. But the loving look in his eyes remained.

“Did you get my message?” He asked excitedly.

“What message?” You played coy.

“On the bridge.” Peter said, not detecting your sarcasm.

“Oh, that was you? I couldn’t make it out. What did it say?” You asked. You knew exactly what it said.

“It said I love you.” Peter said proudly. “It was gonna say ‘I love you Y/n L/n please don’t move to San Francisco’ but I was on a time crunch and it’s very hard to write things on a bridge in webs. I practiced on the Brooklyn Bridge first and I accidentally wrote ‘I larb you.’ But that wasn’t what I wanted to say. What I wanted to say is, you’re wrong. You’re wrong about us being on different paths. We’re not on different paths, Y/n. Because you’re my path. I’ll give up Spider-Man. He means nothing to me if I don’t have you. I mean it. You and I are meant to be. If I know anything at all to be true, it’s that. I can’t imagine life without you. So if you go to San Francisco, I’m coming too. Hell, wherever you go, I’m coming too. They have crime in San Francisco, right? What I’m trying to say is, I love you, Y/n L/n. I am so in love with you. And nothing can keep me away.” Peter professed. You held him tighter and pressed your nose into his.

“I love you too, Peter Parker.” You whispered. “With all my heart.”

“Then will you stay with me? Or allow me to come with you?” Peter asked hopefully.

How could you say no? Every time you thought you could shut the door on Peter, he found a window.

“The world is rooting against us Peter.” You said. His face fell and his grip on your hips loosened. “But if it’s you and me against the world, then so be it.”

Peters smile lit up his entire face when you finished your sentence. He dipped you and kissed you passionately.

“I love you. I love you so much. I can never say it enough.” Peter said as he pressed kisses into your neck.

“I love you too.” You said back. You knew you should feel terrified given your fear of heights, but you couldn’t feel safer in Peters iron grip.

“Can we go home? I need to hold you for an entire day to make up for the time we were broken up.” Peter asked. You laughed.

“We were broken up for less than 8 hours.” You reminded him.

“8 hours of pure torture.” He fake gasped.

“Come on. Let’s get your stuff from the cab and go home. Did I mention you’re moving in? And that we’re getting married? Also what are we naming our children? Do you want it get a cat together?” Peter joked as he tightened his grip around your waist. A part of you hoped he wasn’t joking though. You wanted that with Peter. All of that. Even that cat.

“Does our apartment even allow cats?” You laughed.

“No.” He shook his head. “But if my baby wants one, we’ll get one. I want to start our lives now. I don’t want to miss another second apart from you. I’m serious. Never leave me again.” Peter said, tugging you into a tight hug. He nuzzled into your neck and pressed soft kisses there.

“I won’t. I won’t ever. I promise.”

Peter swung you back to the apartment after collecting your things from the cab. You spent the day in Peters bed just cuddling and talking about all the things you never could before.

“And then he told me you were going back to San Francisco to be with him.” Peter laughed as he told you about his encounter with Andy.

“I can’t believe he lied to you like that.” You shook your head. “He’s such an idiot.”

“He would’ve been a dead idiot if I had known he kissed you.” Peter joked.

“Hm. And I thought I was the only killer here.” You smirked as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“What are your powers?” Peter asked as he brushed your hair out of your face. You kissed his thumb lightly.

“Same as you. Super strength, super hearing, climbing walls. And I have acid spit and resistivity to bullets. But I don’t have your uh…Peter tingle.” You told him. Peter chuckled softly.

“It’s called my spidey sense.” Peter corrected.

“That’s really not much better than Peter tingle.” You teased.

“Shut up. What about your weaknesses?” Peter asked. You toyed with his fingers.

“Fire. And sound. We hate sound.” You said.

“All sounds?” Peter asked curiously.

“No. Not all sounds. Just loud ones. Car alarms, feedback, amps, things like that.” You answered.

“What happens to you when you encounter fire or sound?”

“What’s with all the questions? You’re not trying to take me down, are you?” You teased. Peter laughed and shook his head.

“No. I just want to know everything about you.”

“Well sound makes Venom separate from me. And fire kills.” You said, remembering that night on Carlton Drakes rocket when the fire killed him and Riot.

“Both of you die?” He asked nervously.

“Both of us. Venom and I keep each other alive. If we were separated, we’d both die.” You told Peter. Peter looked at the ceiling with a weird look on his face. His heart was beating extremely fast. You took it as him being scared of you dying.

“But don’t worry about that. Venom and I are never going to be separated. No one knows our weaknesses.” You assured Peter. You felt a little strange sharing all your weaknesses with your former enemy, but you knew Peter would never try to hurt you it use them against you.

“What about you? What are your weaknesses?” You asked.

“You.” Peter smiled. You smiled back before something shiny in his closet caught your eye.

“Is that a keyboard?” You asked as you sat up and went into his closet. Peter sat up as well and rubbed his eyes.

“Oh, yeah. I used to play when I was younger. My uncle taught me. Do you play?”

You retrieved the keyboard and sat on Peters bed, answered his question by playing a few notes. Peter scooted next to you and slipped an arm around your waist.

“Play me something.” Peter said softly. It wasn’t demanding, it was a sweet request.

“I haven’t in so long.” You muttered as you began to press down on a few random keys. The keyboard made strangled sounds at first until you slowly began playing a song you had fallen in love with.

“I, I’ve carried this song in my mind. Listen, it’s echoing in me. But I haven’t helped you to hear it.”

You sang softly as you got the hang of playing the keyboard again. Peter looked wonderstruck at you. He didn’t know you had such a lovely voice. He didn’t recognize the song but he wanted to hear you play forever.

“We, we’ve only got so much time. I’m pretty sure it would kill me if you didn’t know the pieces of me are pieces of you.”

You sang with a little more confidence as the song progressed. Your voice wasn’t great but it was everything and more to Peter. Peter began to pick up on the pattern you were playing and softly rested his hands on the keys on his side.

“I’ve waited way too long to say everything you mean to me.” you dragged out the last note before going all in on the keyboard.

“In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you now. I love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around.” You looked into Peters eyes and he looked deeply into yours. He leaned in so that his lips ghosted yours, but never touched.

“In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you the truth. I’m everything that I am because of you.”

You felt tears of joy pricking at your eyes. Peter felt it too. The moment was pure bliss. It was just you and the boy you loved. Nothing could ruin it.

“I have a hero whenever I need one. I just look up to you and I see one. I’m a man ‘cause you taught me to be one.”

Peter liked the hero line. It made the song perfect, like it was written just for the two of you. He had begun to play along with you and you finished out the song together, never breaking eye contact.

“In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you the truth. As long as I’m here as I am, so are you.” You finished. You and Peter took your hands off the keyboard and immediately pulled the other into a kiss. The keyboard fell to the floor with a clang but you didn’t even hear it.

“I love you. More than anything this world has to offer.” Peter said against your lips. You smiled and kissed him again. He tasted like strawberry chapstick this time. It was yours. He must’ve swiped it from you one day. You didn’t mind.

“Did you steal my chapstick?” You giggled against his mouth.

“Yes. But you stole my heart. Fair trade.” He argued playfully. You laughed and kissed his cheeks.

“It’s okay. You can keep it. What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is ours.” You told him as you ran your fingers through his chestnut hair.

“That’s so cute.” Peter whined.

“I know. I stole it from the Little Rascals.” You admitted sheepishly. He hit you with his pillow before tackling you onto the bed.

You spent the remainder of the day just like that until you had to leave for your final interview with Cletus Kasady.

“Y/n! My favorite gal. Sit down. I have so much to tell you. I got something real good for your story.” Cletus said upon your entry into his cell. You’d been interviewing him for about three months now. It was almost July and you two met in April. You had come to trust him and no longer needed a security guard to stand in the room with you while you talked. You also graduated from talking through those glass windows with telephones on either side to being allowed into his cell. He was still handcuffed to his chair and kept in a cage, so you had no fear of him harming you. You’d actually come to like him in a way. Sure, he killed people, but so had you. He was still charismatic and made you laugh every now and then.

“Nice to see you Cletus. What do you have to tell me?” You asked as you took a seat. Your eyes wandered to the partial wall at the bottom of his cage. You had grown accustomed to his habit of writing on his cell walls with his own blood, but this particular message made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. In big bloody letters it read:

WELCOME VENOM

You swallowed despite your throat being bone dry. Cletus gave you his signature smirk.

“I got me a bug. Just like you.” He drawled. He smiled at your proudly. You felt yourself beginning to sweat.

“A bug?” You asked.

“Are you familiar with the concept of asexual reproduction?” Cletus questioned. You nodded.

“Yes. It’s what plants do. Why?” You asked back. Where was he going with this?

“Not just plants. Symbiotes too.” Cletus stated. Your body went cold with fear. You immediately felt uneasy with the way he was looking at you. He didn’t blink, and had his face frozen with that smirk.

“Y/n.” Venom said cautiously. She held your hand and gripped it tightly for comfort.

“I’m sorry?” You asked. Your voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Yup. And sometimes, they don’t even know when they asexually reproduce. It could happen anywhere. Even in a prison cell.” Cletus continued. You began to piece together the story. Cletus suddenly leaned forward, as far as he could go with his restraints and lowered his voice.

“You and I are no different. We’re both killers. But you get to roam the streets freely while we’re stuck in here, starving. Does that sound fair?” Cletus asked. His eyes weren’t his anymore. They were milky white and bulging. You scooted your chair back in fear.

“No.” You said. You didn’t want to anger him so you agreed with him.

“No. It’s not. That’s why we’re breaking out of here. And when we do, there’s gonna be Carnage.” Cletus smirked, his eyes back to normal now. You trembled slightly.

Cletus Kasady had a symbiote of his own. One that was stronger and deadly than yours. At least Venom bonded to a reporter with morals. Carnage bonded with a serial killer. They made for a lethal combination and you knew you couldn’t stop the havoc that was coming.

“We want you to join us, Y/n.” Cleatus drawled. “You and Venom. Imagine the power we could have. The city would be ours. We could do whatever we want.”

You felt sweat running down the sides of your face as you carefully thought out what you said next.

“Thank you for the offer, but we have to decline. We’re not like you. We only kill very bad people. Cletus, you killed 17 women just because they resembled the girl who broke your heart in high school. We don’t see things the same way.” You told him slowly. Cletus’s face fell.

“I thought you were my friend. I don’t have any friends in here. Nobody wants to be friends with a serial killer. The only person who was ever nice to me was you.” Cletus said sadly. You let out a shaky breath. You felt a little sorry for him, despite his lethal intentions.

“I know and I’m sorry. But Venom and I aren’t killers.” You said in your calmest tone.

“Yes, you are. Whether you like it or not, you will always have to kill to feed. You’ve been a good person your whole life, Y/n. What has it gotten you? You told me about your parents. Did being a good person keep them alive? And what about Andy? You exposed Carlton Drake because you’re a good person, and Andy still broke up with you. Why not throw your morals away and just be the monster you were meant to be?” Cletus persuaded. Your fear turned to sadness quickly and hot tears spilled down your cheeks.

“I am not a monster.” You said angrily. “We are not a monster.”

“But you are. The sooner you realize it, the freer you’ll be. It’s your choice.” Cletus shrugged.

“We choose to be good.” You said firmly. Cletus gave you a disappointed nod.

“Carnage told me you’d say that. I told him you were different. I guess I was wrong. I’m going to be sorry to see you go.” Cletus said sadly.

“See me go?” You asked.

“Carnage said anyone who stands in the way must die. That means you, Venom, Spider-Man, and anyone else who tries to stop us from taking over New York.”

You felt sick to your stomach. Killing you was one thing, but Spider-Man? Peter hadn’t done anything to Carnage. Why was Peter a Target?

“Please don’t hurt Spider-Man. You can kill me but please, don’t touch him.” You begged. Cletus smirked.

“Looks like Carnage was right about that too.” Cletus chuckled.

“Right about what?” You asked. Cletus seemed to be conversing with Carnage in his head.

“Right about there being something going on between you and Spider-Man. I’ll do my best to keep Carnage away from him, but I don’t have much control. So no promises. Even though you let me down, I have a liking for you Y/n. You knew what I did to those women and you still agreed to write an article on me and hear my side of the story. Most people wanted to lock me up and throw away the key. Not you. You listened. We won’t hurt him. But we want a deal.” Cletus stated.

“What deal?” You asked bitterly.

“We want a battle. A fair one. Venom vs. Carnage. If you win, we’ll go back to Klyntar. But if we win, you become apart of our team and we destroy New York together, starting with everyone who got me thrown in this hell hole. Do we have a deal?” Cletus asked. You didn’t want to agree to it but you knew you had no other choice. Carnage was strong but he lacked the impeccable bond you had with Venom. You were confident in Venoms abilities in a fight. Your solemnly nodded your head.

“It’s a deal. When?”

“Tonight at midnight on top of the Oscorp building. Don’t be late.” Cletus said. Before you could answer, the security guard came in.

“The hour is up, Miss L/n. It’s time for Cletus’s meal.” The guard said. Your checked your watch. It was in fact 7 o’clock. The hour had gone the fastest it ever had. You shot Cletus one last look before you thanked the security guard and left. You could feel his smirk watching you as you went.

“Peter? Y/n’s at the front door.” May called from the kitchen. Peter perked up at the slightest mention of your name.

Peter went to his front door and saw you were still dressed in nice clothes for your interview. Peter loved your usual laid back style but he also loved seeing you dressed up. It reminded him of how bad ass you were.

“Hi.” You said shyly, noticing him staring.

“Hey.” He said back. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk in the hall?” You asked. Peter nodded gravely and followed you out into the hall. He shut the door behind him and turned to face you.

“Y/n-“ he began.

“I came here to break up with you.” You interrupted. Peter eyes snapped from the floor to your face. You didn’t seem upset. You seemed almost excited. Peter felt the opposite.

“Wh-“ Peter began but you cut him off again.

“Let me finish. I came here to break up with you. But I’m not going to do that anymore.” You clarified. “Peter, there’s a very bad man after me. I just found out that Carnage bonded with Cletus Kasady. He’s stronger than me, faster than me, and more deadly than me. He’s asked me to join his side and I said no. Now, he’s going to kill me. And he said he’s going to kill you too. I have until midnight until the fight.”

“Okay.” Peter followed along. “So what about the breakup?”

“I figured I’d come here and break up with you, and not just break up but really break your heart. I was gonna tell you I cheated on you and if that didn’t work I was gonna say I was using you to get over Andy and that I still loved him. All lies, by the way. My heart beats for only you. But I thought that if I made you hate me, Carnage would have no reason to go after you and he’d leave you alone. So that was my plan when I left the prison. But as I drove here, I remembered I wasn’t just dating some guy. I remembered was dating Spider-Man.” You said proudly, and Peter grinned.

“What I’m trying to say is, I believe in you. I know you’re strong and capable of anything you put your mind to. You’re extraordinary, Peter. And I don’t have to protect you, as much as I might want to. So, I did come here to break up with you. But now that I’m here, I’m asking you to fight Carnage with me. I want you by my side when I fight the biggest battle of my life. What do you say? Will you help me, Spider-Man?”

“I will.” He said confidently. “Thank you for believing in me.”

“Thanks for giving me something to believe in.” You shrugged.

You spent the remaining hours before midnight coming up with a strategy with Peter. Soon enough, it was time to meet Cleatus on the roof. You and Peter swung there, shaking with anticipation as Cleatus arrived. You held Peter’s hand through this suit, still not in your Venom form. Cleatus looked between the two of you, and then at your intertwined hands.  “Remember when you said I could kill you if I left Spiderman alone?” Cleatus asked through a wicked smile. Peter looked at you, confused as to why you would say that as you nodded.

“Well, I’d like to take you up on that.” Cleatus said as he morphed into Carnage. He grabbed Peter in a quick movement and threw him off the roof, leaving you alone with him. You ran in the director that Peter was thrown but Carnage caught you and dragged you to him, stepping on your neck to keep you down.

“Told you.” He snarled in your ear. “There’s gonna be carnage.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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egg-emperor · 3 years

Note

I literally love watching you talk about eggman so what's your favorite headcanon for him? :)

Thank you so much! I always have so much fun talking about him here and I'm really happy that you like to see it! :'D

It's difficult to pick just one when I have an endless amount involving every aspect of himself and his life! It's easier to decide on a favorite theme, such as the way I enjoy making hcs about his personal life and what he gets up to behind the scenes. I really wish we got to see more in official media so I'm constantly coming up with ideas.

But I suppose I could take this opportunity to discuss one of my many favorites!

I love to imagine that Eggman is always delighted to talk about his interests. He's most enthusiastic about engaging in conversations about him and/or his interests lol. Tons of true love and enthusiasm show through the way he expresses his deepest passions, the most notable being robots and theme parks as his biggest interests. They go way back to when he was a child but he never got the chance to talk about them nearly as much as he'd like to.

His father never had the time, just like he never had much time for him in general. He at least got to do something he was interested in alongside him when he'd help out with his mechanic side work and learn from him as a teenager, but his father would say he needed to focus instead of talking. And he never had the time to listen to him talk about his favorite interests in robots and theme parks but Ivo knew it was because he didn't care. He could never find anyone else willing to listen either.

He's always been an attention seeker from the moment he discovered how admirable and important his grandfather was and wanted to be like him, so his father isn't solely to blame for why he demands all the attention, importance, and spotlight. But it certainly further influenced his already existing desire to get the attention he craves and also intensified his great urge to talk about his interests and accomplishments. So he jumps at every small chance he gets now, whether people actually ask or not.

With his 300 IQ, he can be a fast learner on any subject, even when it comes to things he doesn't really care for. But it seems there's a part of his brain that's seriously dedicated to storing all the knowledge of his favorite subjects and he goes out of his way to learn absolutely everything about them. His knowledge in robots and theme parks especially are endless and always growing, and he loves to talk about his very own creations on top of that. He never runs out of information to share!

This was also one of the things that initially made him interested in getting a teaching degree. It was more about showing off his knowledge, rather than caring trying to help others learn. Also because he loves telling people what to do, of course. XD

He enjoys sharing his knowledge and correcting people when they're wrong. He'll often butt into conversations about subjects he's interested in (well even ones that he isn't but especially when he is) to share thoughts and facts. Some find it rude but it's a case where he doesn't realize because he just wants the right information to be acknowledged and to correct misconceptions. He also likes to bring his related experiences and creations into the conversation so they know his sources, and because he wants to show off and make them jealous and impressed!

Some get annoyed while others find it impressive or even helpful. But the negative reactions don't matter to him because he's delighted when someone will listen to his endless rambling and let him boast, giving him full attention and no complaints. It's even better if they're enthusiastic, supportive, and praise him for his knowledge! If someone encourages him to keep going, he'll actually appreciate it but definitely won't know how to say it. Still, they can tell by the way he lights up and explains it with a big beautiful smile on his face that he can't hide!

Basically, I like to imagine that he's just as passionate when talking about his brilliance and the things he loves as I am when I'm talking about him! He still has that same child-like wonder when learning new information about the things he's interested in and excitement when he shares facts and stories and shows off his discoveries, creations, and accomplishments. They're the feelings he didn't really get to express freely as a child and it feels great to finally get to do something that he wanted all along.

I love men that are really passionate and unashamed to be, especially when it shows through the way they're extremely knowledgeable about their favorite subjects and eager to talk about it. One of the many things that make Eggman so attractive to me is how bold, passionate, and unapologetically himself he is! It's really admirable and inspiring too. And I'd be sure to let him know that and encourage him to express his love for his passions and support him in following his dreams related to them.

I could listen to all he has to say and observe all he has to show off for hours! Then I'd ask questions to give him the opportunity to talk and show off even more as he answers and elaborates even further. Once he gets going, he just can't stop talking until he wears himself out and needs a nap. XD I'm genuinely interested as we have fascinations in common and it's even better when I'm learning from him. There's no better, more handsome source of interesting and valuable information heheh!

But the best part is getting to see how happy he is as he lights up, jumps for joy, and shakes his fists in excitement. He shares his plans with great confidence and presents his creations with pride. The excitement can be heard in his voice and there's a bright wide smile on his gorgeous face all the while. I would watch with total adoration as it warms my heart! I wish he could feel that kind of happiness much more often. I'd always make sure he feels deeply loved, cared for, and listened to. :') 💜

While it is canon that he's a deeply passionate person as there's evidently a lot of hard work and care put into his plans/creations and determination put into his goals, this is how I headcanon him feeling about expressing it outside of what we see in the games.

I imagine that he'd love to passionately monologue to someone that isn't just programmed to care like his robots. He can ramble to Orbot and Cubot about his upcoming plans but they always talk back and he knows they're often judging, so it pleases him when he knows someone's interest is genuine.

And his urge to talk about what he's excited and proud of is probably part of why he often says too much and reveals important details of his plans to his enemies! It might happen less often if he has someone to lend an ear, so he can tell them all about it beforehand. I'd love to be the one there for him! :D 💜💕💘💖💗💜💓💗

#asks #dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #self ship #headcanons #my post

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plussizeappreciationfics · 3 years

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Hi- just love your works! May I ask for a Bucky x Caucasian Plus size reader one where they are close friends (and her being SO aware of her "imperfections", but so in love with him) but always trying to hook him up cause she just want his to achieve happiness with a lady that deserves to have his heart! Unaware of that Bucky shares her feelings...

Hey hun, thank you! Here you go!

Trying to hook Bucky up with other people in order to hide your feelings for him include:

-Bucky not knowing what triggered your sudden interest in boo-ing him up with someone you know

-You struggling to not show your true feelings for him, especially when he is in urgent need of your embrace and comfort after a nightmare, shitty day or anxious moment

-Bucky awkwardly answering your questions concerning about his dating preferences

-Him being lowkey hurt that you want to hook him up with someone else while all he wants is to kiss you and tell you that he has been in love for you for ages now

-You then setting up the dates, always hooking the winter soldier up with a friend or close acquaintance of yours

-You getting annoyed at Bucky when he suddenly always finds a (reasonable) excuse to not go on the date, whether it's a new mission, visiting Steve at the retirement home or his scheduled therapy sessions

-You even going a bit too far and getting mad at him for not showing up at yet another planned date

-Bucky then getting angry too and demanding an explanation as to why you're so obsessed about his dating life

-"I-I'm not!. I just don't want to you to be lonely and wanted to be a good friend and help you find a companion!" you snap, a bitter taste in your mouth due to the lies you just voiced. What you really wanted to say was that you don't feel good enough to even ask Bucky out so setting him up with someone else is your stupid and childish way of projecting your inner fears onto him

-Bucky being fed up and hurt, being able to see right through your and realise that you have feelings for him but probably won't admit it or even deny them

-Him then not talking to you for a few days, needing some time to steam off the anger he feels towards you

-You feeling like shit, knowing that you have gone too far

-You giving the winter soldier all the time he needs while you're drowning in self-pity

-Days later you finally realise that you need to end your childish games and confront your insecurities

-So you strut over to Bucky's room, shoulders and head held high while deep breaths are entering and leaving your body

-You then knocking on the door and waiting for Bucky to open it

-Once he does, you lean forward and kiss him with all the love you have for him, leaving him with shaky knees and a pounding heart. He knew that kissing you would be amazing but not this breathtaking and head-spinning good

-You pulling away and catching your breath from the passionate kiss

-"I love you, and I am so sorry for doing the things I did. I won't ever do it again, I promise"

-"Good, because the only person I want to go out with his you, [Y/N]"

-His words leaving your stomach fluttering and heart pounding in joy as you hug him closely and press another kiss against his lips

Tag list: @jamesbarnesappreciationclubub l @pleasantdreamqueen l @disneymarina l l @harleycativy l @sparklemichele l @melaninmarvel l @amethyst09 l @the-force-of-imagines l @bossyboyd03 l @pebblesz892 l @stars8melanin l @brittyevans l @toc1985 l @janeyboo l @badassbaker l @winters-beauty l @cannonindeez l @ilovefanfic86 l @adorablespecialsnowflakes l @brittanyovens l @kanupps06 l @jazmynejack l @thebookwormslytherin l @theunsweetenedtruth l @talannalew l @littlexmissxfandomxlover l @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes l @crimsonash330 l @booklover2929 l @aranelgrey l @panda-duuu l @thisismysecrethappyplace l @titty-teetee l @honey-anon l @princess-evans-addict l @hp-hogwartsexpress l @malindacath l @letsdisneythings l @scorpionchild81 l @shado-raven l @alisoncdariel l @plutoneu l @queenoftheworldisdead l @briannab1234l @miyaeadys-blog l @thenamelesscorpse2185 l @hihellogoodbyebruh l @nackrosor l @nerdgurl1985 l @2darkskinbeauty l @bugngiz l @african-melanin-goddess l @barnes-wilson-love l @ktiz90 l @let-the-love-in l @forlornfortitude l @robinredboob l @hopefuloperaangelnerd l @kola95 l @partypoison00 l @alwaysadreamingoptimist l @reniescarlett l @g0thicdream l @mayasopinions l @captaintightpants58 l @leillee

-Emmanuelle 💋❤️

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #winter soldier #plus sized reader #plus size reader

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dulcettonesofmattsimmons · 4 years

Text

I Do (Matt Simmons x Reader)

Prompts / MasterList

Matt didn’t have many friends besides the team. Y/N didn’t want a big wedding. They both agree that they want a simple and small wedding. They both already got what they want, which is each other. So Rossi opens up his house for them to get married since he saw Matt as a son and he wanted to give his house as a wedding gift even though he still brought the couple a gift. Matt invited the team and his kids to come while Y/N invited some of her friends and family. Not a lot of people. It was small.

Y/N got a few of her friends from high school and the BAU ladies to help her get ready. “Oh I already know that Matt is just going to go crazy once he sees you,” Penelope said cheering. “Thank you, Garica” Y/n answered blushing, looking at herself in the mirror.

Once they were ready to walk down the aisle, Rossi volunteered to walk Y/N down the aisle since Y/N’s dad couldn’t make it since he was away for a job. When they got to Matt, who already had tears in his eyes, Rossi just pats Matt’s on the back and walked to his seat. “You look just beautiful” Matt whispered. “I got to keep up with my soon to be husband” Y/n replied, Matt just smiled and looked down. “I think it’s me who has to keep up,” Matt said, making Y/N smile wider.

“We’re here to celebrate something that rarely has ever been found. Which is true love. Matthew Simmons and Y/N L/N found and now are ready to bond together for eternity. Now I believe that the bride and groom wrote their vows.” The minister spoke looking at Matt and Y/N. They both nodded and took out their own papers.

Matt breaths and speaks.” I admire you. Simply because of your kind soul, tender heart, and a positive mindset. I especially appreciate your endearing sense of humor. I am ever so grateful for your love and selflessness. In return, I offer these promises. I promise you my everlasting devotion, my loyalty, and my respect. I promise to love you unconditionally and to grow with you in mind, body, and spirit. I promise to pray with you, to dream with you, to build a family with you, and to encourage you. I promise to share in your joys and sorrows and all that God has to offer us. You are my forever, my best friend, my dream come true, and now my wife. With these words and all the words of my heart, I marry you and bind my life to yours. Forever and always. I love you. At last, the day is finally here as we become husband and wife. Things always fall into place at the right time and the timing was perfect for us. Whatever happened the first time? Although I never told you, it didn't take me long to know that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. They say when you meet your soul mate you should feel calm, no anxiety, and no agitation. And your calmness is what gravitated me towards you from day one. I love you. I love the way you still give me butterflies every time I see you. I love the way you care not only for me but for everyone around you. I love the way you're patient with me. I love how much you're willing to try new things with me to make me happy. I admire how hard you work to help others and above all, I love how you love me. You've taught me things and opened my eyes to see life so differently and clearly. You've shown me the meaning of love and have made me become so emotional yet strong at the same time. You forever have my heart, my soul, and my hand as we journey through this chapter called life together. I promise to love you, respect you, and cherish you forever. I'm so lucky to have found such a perfect person that I get to spend the rest of my life with. You're my soldier, my lover and above all, my best friend. I'm so excited to spend the rest of my life with you. So tonight I give you my heart and vow to be the best partner in life and in love. I love you to the moon and back. I promise to hold your hand every night and never let us lose our spark. I promise to love you, to be your heart, to keep a flame alive for you in my heart. I promise to have the patience that loves demands, to speak when words are needed, and to share in the silence when they are not. I promise to be giving and forgiving; to make you laugh and to laugh at myself. I promise to love you as you love me, through all hardship, darkness, and pain to reach for our joys, our hopes, and always with honesty and faith. You are my guide to love, my every wish, and the person I want to grow old with. You’re my person. You just are. When you walked into my life, love walked in, too. Time is always on my side when I am with you.”

Y/N wipes her tears and grabs Matt’s hand. She started. “I want so badly to be able to explain all the love I have for you. Not the love of butterflies and stomach knots—but more the blurring of self and the entanglement with another soul. Love is a word that is much too soft and used far too often to ever describe the fierce, infinite, and blazing passion that I have in my heart for you. You are a million dreams and a million prayers of a little girl come true. You are kind. You are silly. You are intelligent. Your laugh is contagious. You acknowledge my strengths and accept my faults. You make me want to be a better person every day. I take you as you are now, tomorrow, and for eternity to come, to be my husband. Even when the day comes that we're old and gray, I promise to always see you with the same eyes and the same heart that I see you with at this exact moment. So today, I vow to honor you and respect you, support you, and encourage you. I promise to dream with you, celebrate with you, and walk beside you through whatever life brings. I vow to laugh with you and comfort you during times of joy and times of sorrow. I promise to always pursue you, to fight for you and love you unconditionally and wholeheartedly for the rest of my life. You are my best friend and I'm the luckiest person on Earth to call you mine. I'm so proud that today I became your wife. I love you. I love the way you dance to make me laugh. I love that you always push my hair back when it's in my face. I love that I get a kiss from you every time we stop at a red light. I love that you're open to trying new things. Today, I want to make promises to you that I will always keep. I promise to never stop holding your hand. I promise to make sure I'm not just hungry when I get upset. I promise to stand by your side while you face the world. Listen to you when you speak. I promise to join your laughter with my own and when you can't look on the bright side, I will sit with you in the dark. I promise to grow alongside you, but also to never grow up. I promise to love, respect, protect and trust you, and give you the best of myself, for I know that together we will build a life far better than either of us could imagine alone. I choose you. I'll choose you over and over and over, without pause, without doubt, I'll keep choosing you. I used to never truly enjoy moments because I was always waiting for what's next. The next thing to happen. Kind of living life fast forward. Now that I have you, I enjoy the moment. Every moment. Today seems like it's the start of a new journey, but I already belong to you. Falling for you wasn't falling at all—it was walking into a house and knowing you're home. I love you.”

By the end of it, everyone was crying. No one had a dry eye. “Well, I think that this is the part where I ask you a question” The minister spoke, making Matt and Y/N smile and nod. “Do you Matthew Simmons, take Y/N L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death does you part.” The minister looks at Matt. “I do,” Matt nods, smiling. “ Do you Y/N L/N, take Matthew Simmons to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death does you part.” he looked at Y/N. “I do” Y/N answer smiling. “By the power vested in me, I pronounce you to each other, husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” The minister spoke.

Matt quickly pulled Y/N in for a kiss and everyone started to cheer but Matt and Y/N could only focus and each other.

#matt #Matt Simmons #Matthew Simmons #matthew simmons x reader #matt simmons x reader #Matthew Matt Simmons #matthew simmons imagines #Matthew Matt Simmons x reader #matt simmons imagine #matt simmons imagines

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weepingvoidpenguin · 4 years

Text

The Gods’ Blessing (Pt. 3)

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5

Summary: In your world, everyone had a soulmate. That’s just how things went. Everyone had some sort of Indicator that their other half was out there, be it telepathy or a red string that connected these two strangers. Yours was one unspoken of, in fact, you’d never heard anyone say that they had the same Indicator as you. And because of this rarity, you longed to meet the person who could gift you with what you lacked, maybe not so much so to be with the person but more so to finally see what others took for granted. Yet, you held onto the hope that one of your best friends was your Meant-To-Be but he has his eyes on another girls and the little green monster slowly engulfs you at the deterioration of your hope.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,129

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry for the long wait!! I’ve literally been sick for a week straight and the few days after I’ve had a pestering cough and I’ve been so busy I just haven’t had a moment to sit down and focus so I’m sorry if this is trash. I just wanted to get something out without making the chapter too long because if I had kept going it would’ve been upwards of 8k so I’m saving the rest for the next chapter.

“No,” he said, pulling the mask back down over his chin.

“No?” You asked incredulously, eyebrows furrowed at his decision, “Why?”

He turned around and started walking towards the edge of the roof, “I just don’t think it’d be a good idea.” He shrugged his shoulders.

You scoffed, almost disbelieving that this was actually happening, “But you’re my soulmate, I’m supposed to know who you really are,”

You took three long glides towards him and reached for the hem of his mask, momentarily not caring that he didn’t want to share his identity with you. He reached out of your grasp and spun to the side.

“(Y/N), listen, I’m just not ready for you to know who I am yet,” he said, keeping a distance in case you tried to pry his mask off again.

“You’re not ready?” You took a step back and turned away from him, walking back towards your fire escape, “So you can kiss so passionately that the stars align, literally, but you won’t tell me who you are? You want to keep this strictly between me and Spider-Man? Not whoever the hell you really are?” You snapped.

Before, you hadn’t cared who your soulmate had been, you just wanted to see the stars that everyone else could see. But now that you finally met him, it was different. It was as though he were your source of light, that he was providing you the stars, and now he didn’t even want to tell you who he really was. You rolled your eyes and threw one leg over the side of the roof, making sure your foot was sturdy against the ladder and began to descend, not wanting to hear any of his excuses.

He knew who you really were, wasn’t it only fair that you knew who he was?

“(Y/N), wait!” He called, grabbing your hand that was still gripping onto the edge.

“What?” You asked, glaring up at him but then looked away because even though you couldn’t see his face, it hurt to look at him.

“Please, you have to believe there’s good reason,” he tried to elaborate but you held up the hand he was gripping to silence him.

“Unless you’re gonna tell me what the reasons are, I’m done with this conversation,” You could feel the knot in your throat forming and you wanted to leave before it prohibited you from speaking.

Spider-Man stood there, obviously chewing on his lip through his mask, but he remained silent. You looked him up and down, looked at all the places you wanted to touch and hold against you, all the places you wanted to kiss and explore and in that moment of observing him you felt your heart twinge, knowing that despite having kissed and literally feeling like the universe aligned for the both of you, he wasn’t yours. He wouldn’t be until he was honest with you, until he wanted you to know not just Spider-Man but his true self. You couldn’t have a night time relationship with someone.

You wanted someone you could bring to movie night with your group of friends. Someone who you could introduce to your Mom. Someone that you could bring around Peter Parker so you could finally not feel the ache you always did whenever you saw him with Liz. Someone you could study with and learn with and grow with. But if you were being constricted to just night time Spider-Man and not allowed day time true identity, then you didn’t want that. You wanted him and all of him.

And he wasn’t willing to give it to you.

“That’s what I thought,” you said and descended down the ladder one step at a time until you reached the metal floor and hopped off.

A loud thud landed next to you, rattling the fire escape and you gripped onto the railing to balance yourself.

“Wait!” He held up his hands, stopping you in your tracks.

You crossed your arms over your chest to prevent from reaching out to him, “Please, move,” you begged, the knot in your throat now becoming painful.

You could see him open his mouth through his mask but no sounds came out and how you wished he had something, anything to say to make it all better. But he didn’t so he stepped aside and you made your way down to your window before hopping into your room and locking it behind you.

The next morning you nearly slept through your alarm and ended up missing breakfast, as in you didn’t have time to grab a granola bar for the ride to school, and almost forgot your phone on the nightstand. You flew through the door and locked up behind yourself, knowing that no matter how late you were it was better than leaving your house unlocked.

“So how was your date with Brad?” MJ asked once you plopped down at the lunch table. She had asked you earlier in the day and yesterday but you weren’t up for much talking so you promised you’d inform her at lunch.

“Give me those details,” Ned joked.

You avoided looking anyone in the eye and shrugged your shoulders, “It was okay,”

“Just okay?” MJ asked with a quirked eyebrow.

You nodded, wondering whether or not you were going to see Spider-Man again. That’s what had been consuming your mind all day. Whether or not you’d allow him to wretch your heart some more to spend time with him or if you were going to cut him off completely until he was ready to tell you who he was. But you knew you weren’t capable of doing that, your entire being yearned for him and leaving him yesterday night had been so difficult. It went against everything your body craved and plead for. It felt like you had ripped the strings right out of your heart and the only way to heal was to hold him. You knew it sounded dumb and cheesy but it truly was heart-wrenching to pull away from him, it took all the strength you had.

And despite all of the pain and desire and yearning, you weren’t sure if it was requited. It was as though he had no real problem saying good-bye. You didn’t want to know who he was to expose him, you wanted to know so you could be with him. The real him. But it seemed like he hadn’t even considered telling you, like he wanted this secret between the two of you to continue.

So when MJ asked if you would go on another date with Brad you nodded.

“Possibly,” you said, “I mean, he really was a gentleman and I didn’t have a bad time,”

“Why go on a date with him if you don’t even like him?” Peter asked, finally looking up from his twiddling thumbs.

Everyone turned to you, waiting for an answer, “He’s . . . he’s a good distraction,” you admitted not elaborating.

MJ squeezed your thigh, thinking you were talking about Peter and in a way you had been. Despite yearning for Spider-Man, you could feel the same present pull for Peter you always felt and it had confused you. You thought that once you met your Soulmate, your desire for anyone else diminished and your longing for them was gone. But it hadn’t disappeared, only intensified.

You could barely look up at Peter and how his fingers intertwined with Liz’s. The familiar knot formed in your throat and you cleared it in an attempt to fight the intrusion. You trailed their hands up Peter’s arm and observed how his eyes and cheeks appeared sunken and how intense the dark circles were. It looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night.

He kept his eyes down when you answered his question and Liz threw her arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer to her before twisting his hair in her fingers. He sighed and closed his eyes, inviting the comfort she offered.

The knot in your throat evolved into a pit in your stomach and you leaned up against MJ, more disturbed than ever with Peter and Liz being together. It just hadn’t felt right to you. Seeing them together. It never felt right but before you could just ignore them and shove down your feelings. Now they were more intense, more demanding of your attention. They sat at the base of your stomach and moved through your chest, grabbing hold of your body and consuming it in unease.

The sick sensations controlling you had diminished the joy you’d felt earlier. You woke up this morning and noticed that everything was brighter. Everything that had been slightly dulled before now shown with a vibrancy that took your breath away. You had been walking around all day with your eyes wide open, indulging in the wonderous new intensities of the world around you. At one point, you’d asked MJ if she’d always been that pretty.

And as much as you wanted to take everything in, the distress in your mind prohibited any of that.

“He messaged me yesterday,” you said, remembering the text Brad sent you that you had been too preoccupied to respond to.

“He did?” Peter’s head shot up, his loose curls now in his face.

You nodded, “Yeah, he asked if I wanted to go see a new movie that was coming out this weekend,”

MJ wiggled her eyebrows at you, “Those are the details I’m looking for. Looks like things between you two are getting serious,” she teased.

For the first time that day you smiled, “Stop. It’s just a movie, besides we had agreed to go see it together,”

“We still can.” She motioned towards everyone, “We can make it a group date,” MJ looked around the table for everyone’s approval and everyone seemed on board.

“Then it’s a date,” MJ stated, motioning you to pull out your phone and let Brad know.

You hesitantly messaged Brad about the group date and he instantly responded, saying he didn’t mind and that it sounded like a good idea. So the date was set, this Friday after school you’d all head to the theater.

“Hey (Y/N),” Peter called for you and he couldn’t help but notice this was the second day in a row you’d tried dodging him.

You kept going, only minimally slowing your pace so he could catch up, “What’s up?” You asked once he’d took his place beside you.

“I just wanted to know if you were okay,” he asked, his eyes glued to his feet as you travelled through the hallway.

“I’m fine,” you lied and a sting in your chest from being so close yet so far from Peter caused you to take a deep breath and compose yourself.

He eyed you up and down, nervously chewing on his lip as he watched you. “How about we have a movie night tonight. Just me and you? Like we used to in Freshman year?”

Your heart jumped at the idea and you turned to face him, “You sure?” You asked, walking through the door to your classroom, “Won’t Liz be upset?”

Peter scoffed and his features brightened a bit, “We’ve been best friends longer than I’ve known her,” he said and took his seat next to you, “I’m sure she won’t mind,”

Your smile reached your eyes and you nodded, “Okay, we can walk to my place after school,”

“And what about this one?” Peter asked, holding up an old picture of you as a toddler.

“It was my birthday,” you explained, letting him look at the photo in his hands.

“Cute.” He chuckled, noting the frosting on your nose and how your tongue stuck out to try and lick it off.

“This one’s my favorite,” you said, reaching up to carefully pry the picture off the wall. You had the photo to Peter and watched as his eyes scanned over the four goofy faces chosen for the camera. “We had gone to our first Decathalon tournament that day,”

Peter trudged around the room and propped himself on your bed, “I remember,” he said, not taking his eyes off his dearest friends, “We were so nervous,”

You nodded and sat next to him, “If only we knew we’d make second place,”

“I miss those days,” he murmured and you giggled.

“We’re still in those days,” you countered and grabbed the bowl of popcorn off your nightstand before offering him some, “We just can’t let them pass by so quickly,”

He placed the photo back in its original spot on the wall and took his spot next to you on your bed before deciding what movie to watch. You sat together with the bowl of popcorn placed respectfully between the both of you and watched in peace.

It’d been nearly months since you hung out with Peter alone. He’d been too preoccupied with the Stark internship to really spend time with anyone really, and it’d started to take a toll on you. Your weekly movie nights had been postponed so often that it’d just been you and MJ for a few weeks straight but she insisted on keeping it going less it die out altogether. So whenever Peter managed to spare some time for the simple folk, you’d relished in it. You’d ask over and over about the internship and if he liked it or learned anything new from it. Of course, he was always reluctant when answering but you didn’t mind the somewhat curt responses because each question elicited a new gleam in his eyes that you admired with vigor.

“What are you looking at?” Peter asked once he’d noticed you’d stopped watching the film.

“I’ve just missed you,” Jesus Christ. The heat to your face could not have come more quickly and you stammered in your embarrassment, “I-I mean, I miss hanging out w-with you. Not that I miss you- miss you. Well, I mean I do miss you but-”

Peter’s amused smile grew with your stuttering and he chuckled, “It’s fine, (Y/N), I know what you meant,”

No, you don’t, you thought.

You rested against your headboard and grabbed some popcorn just to be doing something with your hands. Peter continued to watch you though and the words he wanted to say danced on the tip of his lips, moving fiercely to get passed his tongue.

“So,” he started, once the urge overcame him, “how have you been recently?”

You cocked your head to the side a little at the question but faced him all the same, “I’ve been okay,” you hesitated, not knowing what all you should tell him, “just lost somewhere in my better judgement,”

He raised his eyebrows, urging you to go on.

You sighed, “It’s just- it’s complicated.” You grabbed a mouthful of popcorn to stall.

“Complicated in what way?” he asked, leaning in as if to avoid straining his ears.

You crinkled your nose and stood up, beckoning Peter to follow as you went out onto your fire escape, your thick blanket in tow. You spread it out and folded it to add more cushion before sitting down and tapping the barren spot beside you. He sat down, a little closer than you two had been before, and watched you as you watched the setting sun and looked up towards the sky.

“I just wanna hang out here, okay?”

He nodded, not questioning your sudden desire for a change of scenery. “You okay?

You nodded, not noticing how he watched you search the night sky for the boy in red and blue. “I feel torn,”

“Between?” He asked, scooting closer to you.

You pried your eyes from the slithering galaxies above you and looked at Peter, something who, despite the sky’s beauty and call, you’d prefer to look at. You smiled at him, loving how his chocolate brown eyes observed you and how his lips parted ever so slightly whenever he waited eagerly.

“Between two guys,”

Peter lurched back slightly with a sudden shake of his head and his eyebrows furrowed together, “What?” He asked, a tinge of hidden pain in his words, “Who?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek and stared down at your feet, “There’s this one guy that I’ve liked for a long time and then there’s this other guy that I’m 99% sure is my soulmate,”

“99%?” His tone peaked up.

“I know it sounds ridiculous but MJ always told me that once you meet your soulmate you lose all attraction for anyone else,” you started, admiring the single curl that fell onto his forehead and fighting the desire to twirl it in your fingers, “But-”

“But?” Peter intensified his look on you and you could swear he was starting to glare.

“But even after I met that guy I still have feelings for this other guy and I don’t know why it’s happening I just know that it’s going to tear me apart,” you confessed, despising how you still desired to feel Peter’s lips caress your own.

“Well who’s this guy?” His expression softened a bit but there was a twinge of secrecy hidden.

“I-I can’t tell you, it’s a secret and even I don’t really kn-” you stopped yourself mid-sentence, wondering how you could explain that you met your soulmate and still have no idea in hell who he is.

“No, who’s the other guy?” Peter asked.

“The other guy?” You chirped back, confused as to why he would much prefer to know about, well him, rather than your soulmate.

Peter leaned back a little and his eyes darted everywhere except for you, “Yeah, well, I mean, there’s gotta be something special about the person that isn’t your soulmate if you still have feelings for them,”

Your eyes widened and now it was your turn to panic. Who’s the other guy? You couldn’t very well say it was him, especially considering how wrapped around Liz’s finger he is. He would cut you off right then and there, apologizing about how he couldn’t do that to Liz and how he only has eyes for her. So you scrambled up the only logical excuse you could come up with and blurted it out.

“It’s Brad,” Brad? You thought. You couldn’t have lied about anyone better?

“Brad?” He repeated after you, as if not believing your words.

“Yyesss,” you drawled out, trying to convince yourself that was the best route to take, “It’s Brad,”

“Why?” He asked incredulously.

“Why what?”

“Why do you like Brad?”

“I don’t know!” You suddenly burst, the inner turmoil of having feelings for Peter but knowing that you’ve met your soulmate building up inside of you. “It’s not like I want to like them both, I just do!”

“Well shouldn’t you only want your soulmate?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes, hugging yourself, “Yes, Peter, hence why I’m torn,”.

“But it doesn’t make sense, why would you want anyone but your soulmate? That’s never been how it’s worked. I don’t want anyone but yo-” Peter shut himself up, cursing himself for letting the words slip out so easily.

“Yeah, I get it. It’s you and Liz against the world, Peter.” You scoffed, feeling your insides beginning to boil, “It’s always been you and Liz!” You shouted, not caring if your neighbors heard because something about those words stung in ways they hadn’t before.

“When you meet your soulmate it’s like the universe itself has guided you towards each other in that moment and nothing feels more right or perfect than you two. And I have this pulling inside my body to be with him but he can’t even be honest with me! How am I supposed to be with someone who can’t tell me the truth?” You practically yelled, now pacing back and forth on the fire escape.

Peter winced at your words but bit his tongue and let you continue.

“And then, there’s yo- uh, I mean, Brad and I cannot get him out of my head. I need him here just as much as I need my soulmate here but that’s not how soulmates work. I’m supposed to meet him and forget that anyone else ever existed! And to top it all off, it feels like neither of them wants me back!” The tips of your fingers burst with heat and the light up above glowed with an intensity you’d never witnessed.

You peaked up at the sky to search what called your attention and found that the thousands of clear stars that you’d seen for the first time last night glistened with a blinding radiance. You heard the screeching of brakes from cars below and horns going off, warning nearby drivers that they were getting too close. You pulled your hand up and hovered it over your eyes, wishing the light would go away, and just in that instant, it did.

The sky dimmed back to its usual, but very unusual, magnificence. The balls of gas in the sky providing their proper planets light and warmth had soothed to their ordinary state of existence. You knew that others could not see the sky in the same way you did as you’d never heard anyone describe it to you before and you’d never seen pictures that could compare to what was above you. But you hoped beyond hope that everyone saw what you did.

Tell her.

The same voice from last night whispered but it echoed from the buildings surrounding you. You whirled around to find its source but knew you should’ve been looking up as that’s where the calls have been coming from. You didn’t know how you knew, you just knew.

Peter mumbled under his breath behind you and you looked down at him, “Tell me I’m not crazy and that you saw that too,”

He nodded, getting up from his place on the floor and holding out his hand before retracting it quickly, “We should go back inside,”

You nodded before throwing a look over your shoulder at the dazzling sky above and ducked under your windowsill.

Friday came around slower than expected. Not because the days went by slowly but because the nights trudged at their leisure pace. Every night that week you watched out for the friendly neighborhood hero but he was nowhere to be seen and that desire in your chest twisted to pain, causing your tears to be the only thing that kept you company at night.

Maybe you’d been too hard on him. Maybe he had good reason not to tell you who he was. You should’ve been patient and have waited to hear what he had to offer but you hadn’t given him the chance. You punished yourself every night for leaving things the way they were, making him believe he was unwelcome due to your harsh words. In all honesty, if he had shown up your pride would’ve taken over and you’d have given him a hard time for a while but you’d eventually move on because you’d just be happy that he was there.

Your lips had been red and swollen by the time Friday night came around from all the biting in anticipation. MJ had followed you home and made you change your perfectly acceptable outfit into something a little more risqué. She hadn’t usually been like this but you were pretty sure she was living vicariously through you since she couldn’t see her significant other very often so you let her play the game her way.

“Hey!” Ned called you over once he saw you at the entrance of the theater.

Brad stood beside Ned, Peter and Liz while you and MJ walked up to them. You tried to fight the sinking stones in your stomach but to no avail. Watching Liz fawn over Peter, leaning against him, caused nothing but your unease. You stopped in your tracks as you attempted to regain your breath, hating how watching them together could have such a negative effect on you.

You grabbed MJ by her elbow and held her in place by your side, “Can we please just go home and watch something on Netflix?” You plead.

She shook her head, “Had you asked any earlier I would’ve said yes but we’re already here and if Brad sucks that much then-”

“It’s not Brad,” you interjected and a look of understanding passed over her face.

Her hands reached out and held both your upper arms, “(Y/N), I get that seeing Peter with Liz is difficult for you, I really do, but maybe tonight will be the first step in getting over him. Maybe being with Brad will help the emotions fade, ya know?”

You sighed, feeling her words go in one ear and out the other, “I guess,”

“Listen, if you really feel uncomfortable then we can go, no questions asked. But if you can pull through this and potentially see yourself having a good time, then try,”

She took your hand in hers and led you towards the group, greeting them all once you had reached them. Brad nervously shifted his weight from one foot to another when you greeted him and he hesitated before pulling you in for a light embrace.

Normally, you’d have been uncomfortable considering your lack of interest but something about his hold was actually comforting and you hugged him back, appreciating the comfort he offered.

“What was that for?” You asked after you pulled away.

“You just looked like you needed it.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“So, what’d you think?” Ned asked upon leaving the theater.

“Predictable,” You and MJ said in unison then hit shoulders lightly in a teasing manner.

Sometime throughout the movie you had gripped onto Brad’s hand and though it did nothing for you romantically, it did wonders for you platonically. He had a strange soothing ambiance about him that drew you in and tonight you really needed as much comfort as you could get.

Peter eyed your intertwined fingers and his grip on Liz’s own hand tightened as he felt his anger build. Ned elbowed Peter lightly when he caught Peter staring at you. Ned motioned to Liz, reminding Peter to calm down around her.

You pushed the door open and let the cool air engulf you, sending a shiver up your spine. You looked over your shoulder towards Brad and smiled, thankful for the distraction for the night. He had offered a miniscule amount of contentment by making you feel wanted, maybe not by the people you actually wanted those feelings to emit from but the attention was nice anyway. Nice but wrong.

It could never compare to how perfect it felt to be in Spider-Man’s arms. You couldn’t forget the heat his body emitted and his body pressed against you had made you come to life in ways you didn’t think were possible. You winced at the memory, the tugging that had been lulled by the distraction of the moving pictures now up front and center. Because despite how much you wanted to immerse yourself in all that was Spider-Man, the sensations were quickly preyed upon by the pain it had caused you to pry yourself away.

Your fingers danced at your side, tapping along your thighs as the memory of the warmth they radiated when you’d touched Spider-Man crawled its way back in. You stopped mid pace and threw your head back, taking in the fresh air and observing your surroundings, hoping to see a figure swing across the sky.

“Looking for something?” Peter creeped up behind you and you jumped and blushed.

“Just taking in the scenery.” You motioned to the cloudless sky and counted all the constellations you could remember off the top of your head.

Peter watched as you observed the stars above you, loving how your eyes sparkled brighter than the endless galaxies ever could. His eyes trailed the curl of your smile before resting on the curve of your lips and he was brought back into the moment where those very lips were pressed against his own.

He could feel his eyebrow twitch as he resisted the desire, no, the need, to feel them again. He wanted to roll the skin between his teeth, pressing you tight against him like the first time. When the universe had revealed you two to each other. He longed to be back in your arms and to have you back in his. He wanted to feel your breath blow against his cheek, hear the quiet moans you tried to withhold from his ears, he wanted to relive it all.

It had been hard to stay away from you ever since the revelation but he knew your character; you were stubborn and you wouldn’t take now for an answer. You’d pry his identity out of him until you were disappointed to see the man under the mask. No, he had to stay away from you. To keep this fantasy going for as long as possible. He didn’t want you to pull away once he’d revealed himself. He wanted to tell you everything, practically had to actually, but his fear made him bite his tongue when you turned away from the sky and rested your gaze on his face.

God, how he loved your smile. It warmed his chest and managed to slightly subside the overbearing want to overwhelm himself with you. With everything about you. From the sparkle in your eyes down to the labyrinth that was your mind. He wanted it all.

He looked down at the small gap between the two of you and felt his fingers twitch to reach out to yours. You followed his gaze to the empty space and watched as his fingers extended out to yours without every leaving his side. Your heartrate sped up and you could practically hear your blood pump through your ears and you stretched your fingers out to his own.

“The Little Dipper’s always been my favorite constellation.” Brad emerged from the space between the two of you and you cleared your throat, blinking away the haze of temptation from your eyes.

You giggled at Brad’s comment and Peter rolled his eyes, blowing the single strand of hair out of his face, “It’s not a constellation,” he murmured.

Brad furrowed his eyebrows and glared at Peter.

“It’s an asterism,” you quickly offered, trying to ease Brad’s confusion.

He nodded and offered you his hand. You peeked over his open palm and glanced at Peter, waiting for who knows what, honestly. Maybe a protest? For him to offer his hand instead? But Peter said nothing, only taking Liz’s hand in his own when she rejoined you so you smiled at Brad despite the twist in your chest and grabbed hold of his hand.

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fanficflaneuse · 4 years

Text

Princess Charming And The Gentleman in Distress

Index

A/N: I wrote this for my beautiful friend @the-hufflefluffwriter who loves Lucissa and helped me explore this ship. I loved writing this and I hope you like it as well <3

Lucius x Narcissa

Word count: 1530

Summary: Narcissa asks Lucius on a date.

Ever since he had gotten to Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy walked about the school grounds like a dandy. He was handsome and intelligent, qualities he knew he possessed and was not afraid to flaunt them in and out of class. He kept mostly to himself and talked to a very selected few. This rubbed most students the wrong way, as they assumed the was just another stuck up, entitled pureblood.

Which he was, to an extent.

Lucius was raised to be the perfect heir of a long line of (mostly) pure blooded wizards and witches, after all. He behaved with the propriety and decorum he was expected to, but that was not the reason why he wouldn’t engage with most people.

In reality, he knew he wasn’t half as charming as he imagined himself to be. He could get really dorky about things he was passionate about, like potion making or reading. He was an expert in lots of random things. He knew the events of the XVI century’s witch hunts and Anne Boleyn’s biography by heart. He loved animals, especially peacocks and learned every fact about them. He was kind-hearted, sensitive and open to new ideas, characteristics his father scorned.

Through the years, Lucius had curated an image of perfection he wasn’t willing to lose. And he wasn’t going to let anyone use his true colours against him like his father did.

So, as he walked to the prefects’ carriage, his shiny new badge pinned to his robes, he procured to maintain his composure. Nobody could’ve guessed how proud and excited he was about his new position. His mask of poise fell for a minute when he saw who the other Slytherin prefect was.

Narcissa Black was probably the most popular girl in their year. She was beautiful and dignified, with the aristocratic flair that accompanied her last name. She was also brilliant and had a way with people that made her the centre of attention wherever she went. She was a beater and the star of the Slytherin quidditch team. Narcissa laughed and the world stopped to listen. She was everything Lucius tried to convey and wasn’t.

They had never talked to each other. Narcissa had a lot of suitors, but the only two boys she really talked to apart from her teammates were Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, who dated her older sisters.

As he sat next to her, one single thought crossed his mind: Salazar, this is going to be very, very awkward.

…

“So, are you really thinking about filling your manor with albino peacocks?” she asked, laughter in her voice.

“Of course! They are beautiful, noble creatures. Once I’m the owner, I’ll have them everywhere,” he answered humorously and yet dead serious.

“What a joy to whoever marries you, Malfoy.”

As the months went by, Narcissa and Lucius struck up a very particular friendship. Little by little, he opened up to her. She was endeared by every arbitrary piece of knowledge he had to share with her. She loved how he listened intently to whatever she had to say and he’d ask real questions without ever being nosy. Narcissa found someone who understood her insecurities, someone who not only valued her wittiness but always had a perfect comeback for her. They were overly dramatic together, balancing the etiquette demanded by their families with playfulness.

Their nightly rounds suddenly became the highlight of their weeks. Every day, Lucius would try to find more creative ways to flirt. As the friendship grew, so did his attraction for Narcissa and he was dying to ask her out.

“That could be you, you know?” he said smugly.

Narcissa looked at him, an eyebrow raised. She knew Lucius liked her; he wasn’t subtle at all. And she liked him back, but she knew better than to show him that. Her sisters had taught her well.

“Oh, I know that approach too well, Malfoy. My mother warned me about guys like you.” She crossed her arms playfully.

“Oh, really? So, she warned you about handsome, intelligent and absolutely talented guys like me?” he shot back.

Narcissa laughed, a full-blown laugh that left her breathless. Lucius felt satisfied.

“No, you fool. She told me about those men, too eager to get a proper lady for a wife and a line of mistresses and bastards on the side,” she said dramatically.

It was Lucius’ turn to look at her as though she had gone mad. “And I am one of those?”

“Definitely.”

“Cissa, I can count with one hand the amount of people I talk to. If anything, you are the one who might be searching for a proper gentleman for a husband and a line of lovers on the side,” he countered.

“Not going to lie, I definitely like that idea. The swap of gender roles sounds refreshing,” she beamed back.

He shook his head as a smile played on his lips. “You’re going to be the death of me, Narcissa Black.”

Narcissa smiled. They were already walking back to the Slytherin common room. She knew everything her sisters had told her about not showing too much interest. Andromeda was particularly adamant about this; she had shown the slightest bit of interest for Rabastan and he acted smug for months before asking her out. But she wondered how long she’d have to wait before Lucius made a move. Narcissa didn’t know many more nights of playful banter she could take. Patience wasn’t her forte, as much as her father told her it was the most important quality to cultivate.

Her heart was beating fast on her chest when they arrived to their common room. She decided to get over with it already.

“Cissa.”

“Take me to Hogsmeade next weekend,” she blurted out. Her tone was demanding, not allowing the least beat of doubt to show on her features.

Lucius nodded slowly, not able to disguise his surprise at her bravery.

…

Lucius offered his arm to Narcissa, who linked it with hers. They were very close to each other, enough for her to notice how her date was shivering. It was snowing as they walk to Hogsmeade. Narcissa took the necessary precautions when she chose her garments for the day. She looked beautiful, as always, but she was also properly dressed for the weather. Lucius, on the other hand, had sacrificed comfort for style and now he was freezing to the bone and pretending like everything was fine.

Narcissa could tell he couldn’t wait to arrive at Madam Puddifoot’s and get his hands on steaming cup of tea. She decided it was her moment to act gallantly; she had asked him out, after all. She took off her green scarf and put it around his neck. Once again, Lucius was taken aback by her attitude, but he couldn’t deny the scarf made a big difference.

They smiled at each other sweetly, but she knew she couldn’t let this opportunity pass. She was loving the whole “princess charming and gentleman in distress” situation.

“You know, Malfoy? I love seeing you in my clothes.”

Lucius’ face was already too red from the cold for Narcissa to notice the blush, so he decided to play along with her. “You’ve seen nothing, Black. I’d look fabulous in one of your skirts.”

She giggled. “That confidence makes me think it wouldn’t be the first time you wear someone’s skirt.”

“It would be,” he said, “I’m just so handsome I can pull anything off.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes playfully.

“Your confidence, on the other hand, makes me think it isn’t the first time a guy uses your clothes,” he retaliated.

“Oh, it’s definitely not the first time,” she said offhandedly, noticing how Lucius’ confident smile vanished from his beautiful face. “My cousin Sirius looks so pretty in my dresses. You have no idea!”

Lucius snorted. He pushed the door to Madam Puddifoot’s. A tinkle announced their arrival. The place was tacky and over the top, with ribbons and frills in every possible pastel colour. It was, anyhow, classier than the Three Broomsticks and Lucius had wanted to take her on the very best date possible.

As they sat down, Lucius inched forward and whispered something that could’ve probably scandalized any other proper lady he knew: “You’d look great in my clothes, Black.”

“Oh, Malfoy,” she retorted, her smile hinting an incredibly witty response, “you’ll have to go to hell and back before I wear your clothes.”

…

Lucius woke up to an empty bed. He sat up, scanning the room in search of his wife. He noticed sounds coming from the bathroom and laid back, waiting for Mrs. Malfoy to emerge. Narcissa came back to their bed wearing Lucius’ robe. He smiled at the sight and open his arms for her. She gladly complied and snuggled to her husband.

“You know, Cissa?” whispered Lucius, never missing the chance to mess with his wife.

“Yes?”

“Going to hell and back wasn’t half as bad as I thought it would be,” he teased.

Narcissa filled the room with the wholehearted chortles only reserved for her husband and Lucius couldn’t feel any happier.

#lucissa #lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy x narcissa malfoy #narcissa malfoy #narcissa black #narcissa #lucius #lucius malfoy x narcissa black #lucius x narcissa #lucissa fic #lucissa fanfiction #lucissa fanfic #narcissa malfoy fluff #harry potter fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfics

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sourwolphs · 3 years

Text

Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (7/8)

Read on Ao3 (for better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M, Kidnapping A/N: Hi guys!!! Thank you for your patience, I really hope you like this chapter. It's extra long, and I worked extra hard on it. Plus, we get some great Sam content (my fav). If you love it, please let me know in the comments on Ao3! <3

For the first time in a long time, Bucky wakes up slowly.

Rather than jolting awake to the rote horrors of a nightmare, Bucky is roused from his sleep by his Omega nuzzling gently at his scent glands. The cool press of her skin is a welcome change from the burning-hot sweats he usually wakes up to mid-nightmare.

Bucky opened his eyes to see Y/N still fast asleep against him, long eyelashes fluttering over her cheeks, hair a gorgeous tangle fanning out across the pillow. Outside his bedroom windows, the blue light of early dawn seeps in, lighting up the shadows of the room.

Her scent has permeated every corner of his den, sticking to the sheets beneath them and the blanket tangled up in their legs. He takes a deep, satisfied inhale, his inner Alpha preening at how relaxed and safe she feels in his arms, how her scent mixes perfectly with his to create the essence of a cool, fall day. She shivers a bit in his arms, and he tightens his hold around her, reaching down with one arm to tuck the blanket up and over her shoulder.

For a moment, Bucky actually feels like he might cry— something he hasn’t done since he finally got the words out of his head in Wakanda— his throat getting tight, his eyes prickling slightly. He leans down to nose at her hairline, dragging in more of her steadying scent, pushing back the wave of emotion that feels like it’s going to drag him under.

He never imagined, never let himself hope, that he could ever have this. After everything— all the blood on his hands and the horrors that he’d seen and done— to be able to hold and protect an Omega like Y/N felt like a privilege he was hopelessly undeserving of. But after last night, after their shared connection came to the surface, after she had confessed her need for him, as strong as his own— for the first time, Bucky let himself imagine that he could have this. That he could be enough.

If she’d let him, he would go to the ends of the Earth to protect her, to provide for her, to keep her just like this, always— safe and sleepy, smelling pleased and sugary-sweet, warm against his skin. He’d spend all his time learning her— her passions, her fears, what makes her smile and what makes her cry— until he knows her better than he knows himself.

Bucky hadn’t felt certain of anything since 1942. But here, now, in this sacred, quiet moment, he knew for sure that he was and would always be hers— if she would have him. He would wear her mark on his neck proudly for the rest of his life, if she would let him.

And just the thought of leaving his own mark on her mating gland, poking pink and smooth through the neck of her shirt, made his mouth water.

She shifted next to him, nuzzling into his gland again before wrinkling her nose cutely, probably smelling the tidal wave of emotions he’d run through in moments, and her eyelashes fluttered open.

“G’morning,” she mumbled, before immediately closing her eyes and tucking her face further into his neck.

Bucky chuckled softly, tightening his hold even more around her, until their bodies were pressed together from head to toe. “Morning, doll,” he said back, voice deep with sleep. She shivered slightly, the way she had last night under his touch, even though Bucky knew his superhuman body heat was more than hot enough to keep her warm.

“I hope you’re not getting into your head again,” she remarked against his skin.

Bucky didn’t respond, instead working a hand under her shirt to drag up and down the skin of her back. She shivered again, moving impossibly closer, and the scent of pleased Omega grew chokingly strong around them.

“I want to wake up like this every day,” she murmured, moving her head back to see his face in the dim light. Her eyes were two gleaming, hopeful pools on her gorgeous face, framed by messy tangles of her soft hair. Bucky’s heart felt like it was going to burst. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept so well. Or felt so…” she blushed, biting her bottom lip. “Good.”

Bucky had never been as turned on in his life as he’d been last night. He’d almost come in his pants just at the candy-sweet taste of her, the sound of her breathless gasps and whimpers as he’d carried her to her release with his lips and fingers, feeling the tight, wet heat of her for the first time. He was glad, though, that he’d begged off her reciprocation. There was more than enough time for him to get his release. Last night had been about her— his inner Alpha demanded it.

Bucky felt a grin take over his face, an expression he wasn’t used to wearing. “You can have whatever you want, Omega, for as long as you’ll have me,” he responded, invoking an answering smile on her sweet face.

“Well, I guess that sort of answers my next question,” she said, reaching up to rub the sleep out of her eyes as she yawned. “What this is? What we are? I know we kind of… skipped a few steps.”

There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice, a nervous blush rising on her cheeks. Bucky didn’t like that— needed to fix that. He brought his hands up to cup both sides of her face, leaning in to press a slow, closed-mouth kiss to her lips, willing the strength of his devotion and desire for her to make its way into his scent, before he pulled a few inches away to gaze right into her eyes. They looked a little glassy, and her mouth parted on a shaky inhale.

“I feel like I’ve been searching for you for 106 years,” Bucky said, lowering his voice towards the bone-deep baritone of an Alpha command, though he wasn’t demanding anything of her. “And now, if you’ll let me, I want everything with you.”

Bucky watched as her lips pulled up into a watery smile before she surged forward to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He could feel the cold tracks of her tears against his skin, but her scent was sweet and light in the air— projecting incandescent joy and relief. Happy tears.

“I want everything too, Bucky,” she breathed as he pulled away to wipe the tears from her cheeks with his flesh hand. “For as long as you’ll have me.” She let out a shaky laugh, sniffling as she sat up in bed. “But right now, I want to brush my teeth and get some coffee. And— oh, shit— Sam is probably going to come knocking on my door for our run soon. Want to come with us?” she said, turning to Bucky with a teasing smile quirking up her lips. “Steve’s home too, so he’ll probably be there. Sounds like the perfect opportunity for you to stake your claim.”

Bucky felt his chest light up with possessive pride at the thought, growling as he tackled his Omega back down into the mattress and rubbed his scent into her glands with his lips and cheeks. She giggled and squirmed in mock distress.

Oh, he would stake his claim alright. With Bucky’s scent all over her and hers all over him, there would be no doubt who either person belonged to.

———-

After Bucky had his fill scent-marking my glands, pressing his cedar scent even further into my skin than it already was from sleeping in his bed, he finally crawled off me to get dressed in running clothes. While he freshened up in the bathroom, I gathered up my clothes and wrangled my sleep-messy hair into a braid.

Though our early morning pillow talk had reassured me that we were on the same page about whatever this… relationship was, we hadn’t explicitly discussed how we would tell the rest of the pack, and the idea of letting everyone know so soon sent a shiver of nerves through my chest— followed by a secret thrill of delight.

Now that Bucky had me, he seemed reluctant to let me out of his sight for even a moment. I did too, if I was being honest. The relief I felt from the near-constant chest pain I’d endured for the past month was overwhelming. Just being around him seemed to calm everything in me, and vice versa.

As soon as I opened the door to leave Bucky’s apartment, the Alpha’s solid form following closely behind me, I immediately smelled coffee brewing in the kitchen down the hallway. Before we could turn the other way and sneak up the stairwell to my room on the second floor, Sam padded into the hallway with two steaming mugs clutched in his hands— one red, white and blue Captain America cup (his), the other my well-loved green mug— preparing to carry both upstairs to wake me from what he assumed was my overslept alarm.

Sam paused at the sight of me— sleep-mussed, sneaking out of Bucky’s room— and his mouth dropped open in shock, mugs teetering precariously in his grasp. I glanced back at Bucky for reassurance, but was met with more of his proud Alpha scent, his broad chest pushed out slightly. Smug bastard, I thought fondly. He placed a hand reassuringly on the nape of my neck, just a tease of a true Alpha grip, and I leaned into his palm, feeling near instant relaxation.

Before I could say something— anything— to relieve the awkward silence, Sam spoke. “I fucking knew it!” He spun on his heels towards the kitchen, coffee sloshing on the carpet as he bounced up and down in excitement. “I fucking KNEW it! Steve! Tash owes me fifty bucks!”

A clank like a dish dropping in the sink sounded from the kitchen, before Steve appeared behind Sam. I felt my stomach swirl with fresh nerves, and Bucky moved his hand to wrap around my shoulders protectively.

“Sam, come on,” Steve said, looking significantly less surprised to see us together than I thought he would, though his eyebrows were still raised. “Leave ‘em alone.”

“Tasha is going to be so pissed,” Sam snickered, before turning around and realizing that we were still standing there, silently. “Uh… Not that we were betting money on you two or anything. Nope. Not at all.”

I felt my cheeks growing hot with a blush, feeling too embarrassed to respond even though I knew my pack members wouldn’t actually judge. Had they known I was pining after Bucky this whole time? I turned instinctually to hide my flush in Bucky’s shirt, and I felt his arm tighten around me, the cold-wind scent of him spiking in the air. He started up a low, quiet warning growl in his chest, and I pinched him gently. No need to go full Alpha, big guy.

“Sam,” I heard Steve say reproachfully.

“Hey, Y/N, no— I’m sorry. That was rude of me,” Sam said, sounding rightfully chastised at the sight of my embarrassment. “Here— take your coffee. I was just about to bring it upstairs. Made it how you like.”

I took a deep breath, rubbed my cheek once into Bucky’s shirt, and then turned around with as much of a smile on my face as I could muster through the awkwardness. “Thanks, Sam,” I said, taking my mug from his outstretched hand. He’d gotten close enough to us now to smell just how much our scents had mixed, and I knew then that the jig was really up— especially because neither of us had showered off the scent of last night’s… activities.

“But don’t think you’re getting out of explaining this one. I need deets,” Sam stage whispered conspiratorially— expertly breaking the awkward tension with his goofy grin. I let out a shaky laugh, before turning around to head up the stairs, Bucky trailing quietly behind me.

“Yeah, yeah— you’ll hear all about it while the two super-soldiers are lapping us!” I called out after me.

After I made it up to my room, changed into something suitable for a chilly spring run and finished my coffee— all while watching bemusedly as Bucky tried to subtly scent-mark everything in my apartment with the glands on his wrists— we headed outside to meet Steve and Sam.

Just as I’d predicted, Bucky and Steve took off at a faster pace than either of us could keep up with, Steve probably just as eager to hear Bucky’s side of things. That left Sam and I a good distance away to talk without fear of being overheard by the two enhanced up ahead.

“So you and Bucky? Really?” Sam started, once we’d found a good conversational pace. “Gotta be honest, I knew something was up with him, but I really only placed that bet to get Tasha riled up. I didn’t actually think anything was going on.”

I shook my head, laughing. “You sounded very sure of it this morning.”

“Naw, that was just for the laughs. But I’ll admit, I did think it was weird that nobody was talking about what happened.”

“You mean how we were kidnapped by Hydra?” I said, slowing my pace a bit, and Sam nodded.

“That night we were all drinking together— I think it was the first week you were here— Tasha gave me a death glare when I started asking where the hell Buck was. I figured there was a sore spot there I shouldn’t poke, so I left it alone. You were still getting comfortable with us, but it’s not like Bucky to pass up an opportunity to unwind with the pack— helps his head.”

Sam paused, pursing his lips a bit, and I turned to check on the boys up ahead. It looked like they were deep in conversation, but Bucky still glanced back to check on me with a soft smile. My stomach fluttered. Damn he looked good from behind— all smooth, broad muscle under sweat-wicking gear, moving powerfully yet fluidly as he kept pace next to Steve’s slightly taller form.

“Don’t think I’m not watching you check out Robocop up there,” Sam teased.

"Shut up, Sam!” I squeaked, punching him lightly on the arm and feeling gratified when he feigned a wince through his laughter.

“If you don’t mind me asking, though… what’s up with you two? Just a fling? Or…”

I sighed, wondering where to start— and how much to share. Despite him and Nat apparently betting money on Bucky and I’s relationship (or lack thereof at the time) Sam had fast become one of my closest friends, and I knew I could trust him with anything.

“Just the opposite, actually. It’s…serious,” I explained slowly. Sam’s eyebrows quirked in interest. “After our time in that cell… it physically hurt to be apart, but neither of us knew what that meant. I was scared. And… Bucky had a hard time accepting that I didn’t blame him for anything that happened to us.”

“What do you mean ‘physically hurt’?” Sam asked, looking at me curiously as he slowed down to a brisk walk. I cut my stride to join him.

“Like, here,” I said, rubbing at the spot on my sternum. The ache was completely gone, but the phantom memory of the pain still lingered as a reminder.

Sam made a quizzical noise. “You guys should talk to Dr. Banner— that sounds like how they describe bond withdrawal.” I watched his eyes flick down to my mating gland, the edge peeking out, unscarred, from the collar of my long sleeve. “Which doesn’t make any sense.”

“No shit, Wilson,” I said, rolling my eyes playfully before picking back up into a jog, then a run. “Enough of the heart to hearts anyway, it’s time for you boys to get your asses whooped!” I hollered. Steve and Bucky turned around at the sound of my voice— Bucky in confusion, Steve with a knowing grin on his face— before I sped up to a sprint past Sam and the two super soldiers.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised as I passed him and Steve at my slightly superhuman pace, clearly surprised to see that my enhancements extended to speed and endurance as well. Feeling emboldened under the attention of my Alpha, I decided it was time to show off a few of the tricks Wanda and I had been practicing. I could hear Steve picking up his pace behind me, so I quickly banked left on the running path, heading back towards the compound and the gaudy reflecting pools Tony had installed near the front entrance. Dirt turned to concrete as I approached the water source, listening for the sound of shoes on the pavement following a safe enough distance behind me.

Once I was close enough to sense the energy of the water, I took a deep inhale and summoned my abilities, lifting my arms from left to right to guide the liquid from the pools out in front of me in icy sheets on the cement. As soon as the ice reached the soles of my sneakers, I braced myself, changing my stride from a run into a glide and manipulating the ice to move me forward — fast. I shot off like a rocket towards the back of the compound, manipulating the water from liquid to solid over and over again to keep my momentum going. Once I reached the back end of the building, I melted the water all at once with a flick of my wrist, skidding to a stop to turn around and drink in the boys’ surprise.

Sam was doubled over laughing back by the reflecting pools. Steve was only a few paces away from me, grinning like a madman as he shouted “Alright! That’s how we do it!”

And Bucky. Bucky. The Alpha was standing just a few yards away from me, hands braced on the back of his head, face a mix of pride and disbelief. This far away, I couldn’t scent him— but I didn’t need to. I knew. My Omega preened at the thought that I’d impressed my Alpha, and I did a little spin, before jogging back towards the trio to freeze some of the melted water I’d left in my path and direct the icicle shards back into the reflecting pools.

“Holy shit that was cool, Y/N,” Sam laughed. “You’ve been holding out on us with that trick. We need to get the Winter Soldier over here some ice skates so he can keep up.”

Bucky shot Sam a withering look while I laughed, before coming up to my side to wrap an arm around my shoulders, voice pitched low so only I could hear. “You’re unbelievable, doll.” I could smell the Alpha pride radiating from him like woodsmoke, mixed with the spicy cedar of his sweat. I hoped I smelled just as good to him, even sweat-drenched and red-faced from exertion. The intense look he gave me when I dragged my eyes up to meet his told me that I did, in fact, smell really good.

“Not to interrupt your moment,” Steve said, sidling into our space. Bucky tightened his hold on me for a fraction of a second, before releasing quickly, evidence that whatever conversation they’d had while running had made Bucky’s hindbrain realize that Steve wasn’t a threat. I stepped out from under Bucky’s arm to turn towards the others, feeling bold enough to lace our fingers together instead, and the Alpha gave my ice-cold hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I figured after seeing that, now’s as good a time as any to ask you an important question. I’ve been meaning to for a while now, anyway,” Steve began, smirk tugging up the corner of his lips.

I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’re finally proposing, Rogers? Here?”

“Ha ha, funny,” Steve said dryly. “But you’re not too far off. You’re already a part of this pack, and you know it, I don’t need to ask you about that. But I am proposing that you join the Avengers. Officially. We could really use a powerful woman like you to help make the world a safer place.”

My throat felt dry. It took a second to process Steve’s words, especially with all three of them staring at me with smiles on their faces. First, was the fact that the Avengers unequivocally considered me a part of their pack. And second, that they really trusted me— me— to fight alongside them. I opened and shut my mouth a few times, feeling overwhelmed, before looking instinctually to Bucky for reassurance. The look on his face told me that he already knew exactly what Steve was going to ask, and what I would answer.

“I— I don’t even know what to say, Steve,” I said, the words coming out softer than I’d intended.

I bumped my shoulder against Bucky’s reassuringly, before untangling our hands to give Steve an overly-aggressive bear hug.

“Oof!” He said, laughing, as his arms came around me affectionately.

I reached out with grabby hands towards Sam, who cooed out an “Aww!” then Bucky, pulling them all into a huge and awkward group hug just because I could.

“I’ll take it that’s a yes, then?” Steve said, chuckling.

After the years I’d wasted on fear, on running from responsibility and denying myself the love and protection of a pack, of an Alpha, I’d finally run out of gas.

I could be this. I could be a hero. I could be one of them.

“Yes.”

————-

The next few weeks passed by in a blur of happiness, purpose, comfort and home, the likes of which I’d never felt before.

Bucky slotted easily into the life I’d made for myself here, filling the empty space that had been the final missing puzzle piece to complete my new reality. Everyone was delighted to see us together— even Nat, though she reluctantly coughed up Sam’s cash. And Wanda had a knowing look in her eye when Bucky first showed up to movie night, curling up under my new blanket with me.

Though we still found time apart to do our own things during the day— Bucky liked to spend his time in the library, at the shooting range or out on a bike to clear his head— after the first night we spent together, we never slept apart. We both drifted off easily, nightmares at bay, surrounded in blankets drenched in each other’s scents.

And despite our intimate first night together, Bucky and I decided to take things slowly that first week, learning each others’ bodies like we had all the time in the world to memorize them. And we did. Most of those nights went no further than heated kissing and scent-marking before we curled up to sleep— perfectly content just for our bodies to be close as his purr rumbled through my frame, melting me into a puddle of relaxed goo.

Despite my insistence, Bucky was at first needlessly hesitant to allow me to reciprocate anything. It wasn’t until the end of our first week sleeping in the same bed, when he was so wound up from unreleased sexual tension, that he finally acquiesced.

I knew he’d spent the afternoon sparring with Steve, leaving his body tightly coiled with the pent-up aggression that only a fight with another Alpha can do, because I could smell it on him when he’d picked me up from my spot on the common-area couch that evening after dinner and carried me back to his den like a caveman. I didn’t protest, amusedly letting him shove his face into my neck and drink in lungfuls of my scent as he pressed me into the mattress with the entirety of his huge, muscular body.

“Rough day?” I teased, a little breathless under his weight. Bucky just grunted in response, licking and sucking at my scent gland in a way that made me dizzy with want. “I know something that can help take the edge off,” I purred.

Bucky didn’t move his face from my neck, but he shifted slightly, slotting between my legs until the hard length of him pressed against my belly. I whined slightly, reaching up to mouth at his glands in return, rolling my hips to meet his in a slow drag. I moved my hands down his broad back to the waistband of his pants, down to where he was hot and hard as steel. I cupped him through the fabric, feeling his cock jump underneath my palm, and Bucky groaned into my skin.

“Sweetheart, you don’t—“

“I want,” I interrupted, giving him a squeeze just on the edge of too-rough. I pushed him off me and onto his back, and he went easily— though if he had wanted to, he would have easily been able to resist.

I slipped off the oversized flannel I was wearing— one of his— and tossed it on the floor to reveal the lacy bralette underneath. I’d found the scrap of fabric tucked into the very back of my dresser, among the clothes that had been stocked for me when I’d arrived. Bucky hitched in a breath as his eyes tracked over my form, pupils blown wide. Preening under his attention, I slid down his body, pulling his pants smoothly down to mid-thigh.

I’d felt it against me before— the hard, huge length of him— but seeing him bare now, swollen and red, and catching the heady, cedar scent of him at the source, made my mouth water.

I leaned forward, wrapping my hand around his girth— so thick that my fingers didn’t wrap all the way around— and gave the weeping head a tentative lick.

Bucky growled, and I could feel the tension in his legs as he fought the urge to thrust up into my mouth. A smirk curved at the corner of my lips, and I sucked his length down in one slow, hot drag, peering up innocently through my lashes to make eye contact with him.

“Fuck, Omega,” he groaned, the woodsmoke scent of his arousal so strong it burned my nose on the next inhale. He brought one hand up to cup the nape of my neck, working his fingers gently against my scalp. I hummed happily in response, pleased that I could make my Alpha feel so good, though I could barely fit him in my mouth. I went to work on his cock, sucking as much as I could into my throat and following the rest with my hand as I moved rhythmically up and down, taking him apart with lips and tongue.

“Just like that, doll,” Bucky groaned, his head thumping back against the pillow. “Fuck, this isn’t gonna last long.” I sucked harder, my grip tightening around his length as I pulled him into the back of my throat, tears pricking at my eyes as I fought my gag reflex. Beneath my other hand, I could feel the slight, aborted twitches of his hips as he restrained himself from fucking my throat. Later, when he trusted himself more— I’d let him grab me by the hair and do just that.

It only took a few more strokes, a tease of my tongue at the underside of the head, before Bucky grunted out a warning and came down my throat in hot spurts, cock pulsing in my mouth. I hummed happily again, licking him clean before nuzzling into the warm crease of his thigh, drinking in the smell of pleased Alpha like it was a drug.

Before I could drift into that sated Omega headspace, Bucky pulled me back up the bed with one hand, the other pulling his pants back up. When he leaned in to kiss me, there was an edge of desperation in it, like he couldn’t get enough of my lips. “You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart,” he grumbled, before pulling away to give me a devilish grin as he slid my shirt up to kiss a path down my stomach. “My turn.”

Judging by how reluctant Bucky was to let me reciprocate in the first place, I figured it would be a while before we took things any further than that enthusiastic blowjob. But just a few days later, smack in the middle of a heated makeout session on his lap on my couch, Bucky stood up abruptly, holding me up with his palms under my ass. I squeaked at the show of his Alpha strength, before whimpering slightly as I caught the glint in his eye and the smoky-hot scent of his arousal, stronger than usual, making my core throb with need. I could feel myself getting slick already, and I knew he could smell it by the way his jaw clenched.

“Bed?” I whispered.

Bucky moved before I could even register it, placing me securely in the middle of my bed, surrounded by blankets and pillows that smelled like us. It made my Omega sing with delight, and my toes curled in my socks.

Whatever restraint he’d relied on to keep from absolutely ravishing me had disappeared. Tonight, Bucky was on a mission, and I was helpless to do anything but sit back and let him do whatever he wanted to me. He’d never been rough before, and he wasn’t now— not by any means— but something in him had finally snapped. Perhaps it was because I’d been grinding down into his lap on the couch, my neck bared suggestively to press my mating gland right up under his nose. Now, Bucky’s hands on me were firm and insistent, working their way up and under our clothes until we were skin to skin, the warmth of him surrounding me, consuming me, as he covered my glands and face with kisses, growling low and deep in his chest with need.

He made quick work of my first release, coaxing it out of me with demanding fingers circling my bud, stroking inside of me, lips and teeth latched on to my nipples until I was whimpering with oversensitivity.

And even though I was dripping with need, my legs spread on either side of his hips, begging for my Alpha, Bucky still paused, lifting himself up and away from my chest to make eye contact. I could feel his hard cock dragging through the slick at the crease of my thigh, so hot and thick and perfect it made me want to roll over and present, to beg for his knot.

“Omega,” he growled, catching my attention where it was drifting, floating in pleasure and need. “Can I— Do you want this?”

I whimpered, feeling senseless and drunk on the bonfire smell of him, the heat of him so close to where I needed it most. “Alpha.”

“Baby. I need to hear it,” he said, fitting his hand carefully around my jaw to bring my eyes up to meet his. “Because once I start, I’m not going to be able to stop,” his voice was low and deep in his chest, edging on an Alpha command as he rutted in a silky glide against my skin

“Please, Bucky, yes, yes, yes,” I whined.

Bucky growled, capturing my lips with his, before angling his hips to notch the head of his cock against my cunt and began to push inside. He moved torturously, painfully slow, even as I begged for more. His shoulders trembled under my hands as he held himself back from slamming home the way I knew his inner Alpha was hollering at him to do. Bucky buried his face in my neck, mouthing at my gland as he finally sank all the way in, hips pressed flush against me.

“Fuck, Omega,” he choked out, sounding wounded. “Made for me. So perfect. Taking me so well.”

I stifled a sob of pleasure, feeling impossibly full of my Alpha, surrendered to the heat and power of him as he took me apart completely. It was everything I had ever wanted— so good it almost hurt. I bit my lip hard, fighting back the urge to say something truly insane, like begging him to claim me. With his mouth on my gland the way it was, his cock filling me to the brim, it felt right, it felt like time. I was ruined for any other Alpha after this— nothing would ever compare.

Instead, I urged him to move, canting my hips up to grind against him, and he groaned at the feeling, reaching down to lift my leg up towards my chest. He thrust slowly into me, pulling all the way out and back in in slow, sinful drags that made my nerves sing with pleasure. I felt close to release just from his gentle movements inside of me, the feeling of his lips sucking and licking at my gland, stubble scraping against my neck.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna knot, sweetheart. Fuck, I can feel it,” he groaned again, sounding pained. I gasped as I felt him growing impossibly thicker inside me, his knot catching with each drag in and out, and fuck if that didn’t push me closer to the edge. Though I’d had sex before, I’d never been knotted. But I wasn’t slightest bit afraid— in fact, I was desperate for it.

“Yes, yes, knot me, Alpha, please. Gonna come—“ I panted, and Bucky moved his flesh hand down to circle my bud, picking up his pace as he captured my lips with his own.

The drag of him inside me, the swelling of his knot, the taste of his lips, the scent of pleased, possessive Alpha was so overwhelming that it only took a few more thrusts before I felt my whole body seize up, cresting in an orgasm so intense I felt the sweat on my back and in my palms freeze into little beads. Bucky was right there with me, groaning as his last few thrusts ended with him deep inside me, knot swelling rapidly, keeping him locked in place as the warmth of his seed filled me.

“So fucking tight, doll, my perfect omega,” he mumbled as he came, nosing at the line of my neck where I’d bared my throat instinctually as his knot formed. He licked gently, reverently at my mating gland, and I could feel it throbbing on my neck where it was red and swollen, ready to be claimed. Alphas didn’t always knot, but when they did, it triggered hormones in their partner’s body to prepare for a bite. I whimpered at the feeling of his mouth, right where I wanted it. I knew it would be insane to ask, but my body and mind felt more certain than anything, ever, in my life.

“Bucky,” I sighed instead, squashing down the voice in my head screaming Mate. His head snapped up, searching my face and down my torso for injury, before his hand moved to press gently, searchingly against where we were joined. “I’m perfectly fine, you big sap. You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

“Are you sure? Was that the first time you’ve…” He hesitated to say it, nosing at my cheek in an attempt to soothe me.

I hummed, trying my best to push my feelings of pleasure, contentment and comfort into my scent before he could work himself up too much. “Taken a knot? Yes, and it was perfect. Don’t worry.”

I moved my hips experimentally before he could reply in an effort to show him how much I enjoyed the hot pressure of his knot inside me. Bucky hissed with oversensitivity, settling his weight down over me harder until my arms and legs were pinned with nowhere to go. As if I’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

“I just knotted, you minx,” he growled teasingly. “I don’t think I’ve popped a knot since 1939.”

“Glad you can still get it up, old man.”

He nipped at my cheek, and I laughed, enjoying the scrape of his stubble and savoring the mix of our scents in the air, of his warmth around and inside me.

“You gonna freeze our sweat every time we do this?” Bucky teased, swiping a hand at the now-melting beads on the back of his neck.

I flushed in embarrassment, even as he kissed me softly, lovingly, to soothe the barb. “Guess we’ll have to keep trying to find out.”

We would definitely be trying. Again. And again and again, if I had anything to say about it.

And after our first coupling, it turned out that we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. Bucky grew more and more comfortable with my touch, with letting me bring him pleasure—though he was definitely a giver, happiest turning me into a whimpering, dripping mess any chance he could get.

Another week passed before we realized that it only took a day of separation from each other before the chest aches came back. I spent a free Saturday out on the little town closest to the compound with Nat, shopping for new clothes from a boutique she likes and taking a spin class of all things. When I got back to the compound later that evening, feeling desperate and achy and wanting nothing more than to curl up in my nest with my Alpha, I found Bucky pacing a trench in the kitchen with his hand to his chest, so relieved to see me that he nearly squeezed me to death. After a few minutes of frantic scent-marking— with Sam hollering at us from the lounge to get a room— the pain once again drifted away, almost simultaneously, for the both of us.

The morning after that incident, we figured we’d waited long enough to take Sam’s advice and visit Dr. Banner in his lab to figure out what was up with our connection, and if it had anything to do with Hydra.

Banner was surprised but happy to see us, his cloyingly sweet caramel scent soothing to my nerves in the unique way only a fellow Omega’s scent can be. He recognized that we were both jittery— me at the possibility of our connection being some kind of fraudulent, Hydra-controlled scheme— Bucky at the vaguely medical setting.

(Late at night, Bucky and I had taken to long, deep discussions about our pasts, baring our souls in a way neither of us ever had with another person. I shared with him stories from my life on the run after losing my parents, dealing with my abilities that I treated like a curse, denying myself the comfort and safety of a pack. And he, in turn, would tell me about Hydra, about being the Winter Soldier— the horrors he’d done and seen, the physical trauma he’d endured less torturous to him than the evils he’d been forced to act out. I always held him tighter after those conversations, wishing I could take away his pain, free him from his nightmares that— though much less common, now that I slept in his arms— still occasionally woke us both in a jolt.)

Because our nerves were probably stinking up his territory, Banner steered us towards the conference room area off the lab floor, where we settled into luxurious leather chairs across from the biochemist and his Stark Industries laptop.

“So, can you walk me through exactly what type of pain both of you are experiencing?” Banner asked, ever the professional.

“For me, it’s a chest pain, but constant and dull,” I began, indicating the spot in my sternum where the feeling was the strongest. “It’s centered here, but it’s really in every part of me, if that makes sense? I don’t think that makes sense. But it hurts, constantly, unless we’re together.”

Banner nodded, then looked to Bucky expectantly.

“What she said. Constant. Dull. Goes away once I can see her, scent her.”

“And you said it’s been gone for… about a month? But it came back this Saturday, when you left the compound?” Banner asked, and we both nodded. “Hmm.” He tapped a bit at his laptop keys, eyes intent on the screen.

“So we’re doomed, right, Doc?” I said, laughing weakly. Bucky’s metal hand landed on my knee, giving me a reassuring squeeze under the table.

“No, not doomed at all,” Banner said. Then cleared his throat, looking at us with very serious eyes. “Fated.”

I tossed Bucky a look, and the corner of his mouth pulled down, twitching, before we both laughed. Banner didn’t laugh with us.

“What, you’re serious?” I asked. “I thought fated bonds were a myth.” Bucky looked equally disbelieving, but his brow was furrowed now, the muscles of his jaw ticking.

“The myth of “fated bonds” is that some higher power determines you should end up together,” Banner said, rolling his eyes. “That part of it’s not real. But the science of designation compatibility is. And I’m willing to bet that if we did a little bloodwork, you two would be a statistically perfect biological match.”

I nodded dumbly, not knowing what to say. Perfect match…? It sounded unreal, but it made sense. It would explain why his scent affected me so strongly, unlike any other Alpha’s, why I felt dizzy with need at just the slightest touch, how I’d miraculously fallen into a sympathy heat in response to his rut, even while kidnapped and restrained in a Hydra cell.

“You’re both familiar with bond withdrawal, correct?”

This time, Bucky nodded and spoke first. “It’s what happens when the bond between mates is forcibly broken. It’s torture. It’s illegal, now, but it wasn’t when I was growing up.”

I swallowed thickly at the thought, my throat dry. I’d heard horror stories of broken bonds as a child— of Omegas going mad, pulling out their hair and clawing at their own skin until they bled, of normally kind and gentle Alphas committing violent murder to get to their mate, feral with rage.

Bonds are sacred. They only take when both parties are completely willing, and they’re a lifetime commitment. When bonded, you’re able to sense the emotions, sometimes even the physical sensations, of your partner— but everyone experiences their bond slightly differently. Some people choose to never bond, out of fear of losing their partner or of the commitment and intense intimacy of the tie.

“What you’re feeling is a lesser form of bond withdrawal, sometimes called a pre-bond. It’s common for highly compatible pairs like yourselves— but because you’re so rare, there’s not much research on it,” Banner explained. “Essentially, your bodies have formed a connection—“

“Even without a bonding bite?” I interrupted.

“Even without a bite,” Banner nodded. “Think of it like this: your extreme level of compatibility makes your eventual bond inevitable. So.. your bodies just took the liberty of speeding things along.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Bucky’s jaw tick again, and despite it all, dread settled low in my stomach. What if Alpha doesn’t want this? We’d only just confessed our feelings for one another, just slept together, just started a relationship. And now Banner is talking about bonding.

“So what does that mean?” I said hesitantly. “For us?”

Banner shrugged, his sweet scent a placating balm from the sharp and indiscernible cold-wind smell drifting from Bucky. “Whatever you want it to mean. You still have free will. If you decided to separate, the pain would eventually fade. Your bodies can’t form a real bond without a bite, or else we’d all be a lot more careful who we take home from the bar,” Banner said with a wink.

Feeling numb and a little shaky, Bucky and I thanked Banner for his help, and we left him to the complex-looking schematics on his laptop, heading out into the hallway outside the lab.

I knew I was probably reeking of anxiety, but before I could get too in my head, Bucky spun me around and pressed me back into the wall outside the lab, lips hot and insistent against my mating gland. He wrapped one hand around my waist and fisted the other in the hair at my nape to hold my neck open to him. I immediately melted in his grip, warmth fluttering in my chest.

“Never going to want anybody but you, doll,” he murmured into my skin. “I promise. But if you don’t want me, I’ll leave. It’s still your choice.”

I felt like my heart could burst. This Alpha— he couldn’t be real. How did I get so lucky?

I felt tears well up in my eyes, and I choked out a sob, reaching up to run my fingers through Bucky’s soft hair, cupping his jaw in my hands. He smiled softly, that rare look that so few people got to see on his gorgeous face.

“I will always want you, Bucky,” I breathed, my scent sweetening with relief at his reassuring words.

When he leaned in to capture my lips with his, it tasted like salt from tears, like woodsmoke and cedar and wind at the summit of a mountain.

It tasted like home, like forever.

——-

It felt like I blinked, and six months passed by. Six months wrapped in Bucky’s arms, falling asleep at night to his purr against my chest. Six months of pack movie nights, of mastering my abilities with Wanda, of morning runs with Sam. Six months of “I love you’s” and “Forever’s” with my Alpha. Six months of happiness and home.

With months of training, I got good. Really good. Dangerously good. I gained control of my abilities, but I also learned combat and weapons training, how to navigate Stark tech and flying a quinjet. I even learned how to ride a motorbike— courtesy of one very sexy teacher.

Steve and Nat took me out on my first few stealth missions as a real Avenger. Bucky was always either with us or on a quinjet nearby— too keyed up to be away from me for long, his Alpha instincts unable to let me throw myself into danger completely alone, especially with the pre-bond like a thread keeping us close together. And when Bucky had to go away on a mission outside of my ability— when superhuman muscle and sniper skills and a vibranium arm was what the team needed to keep the world safe— we weathered the pain of the pre-bond separation. It made his return days later even better— the sweetest kind of relief.

The longer we spent together, the stronger the pre-bond grew, until it became hard to go even a few hours without at least being in the same room as each other. I worried for a while that it would become taxing, that Bucky would grow sick of the ache and realize that I was a burden, that I made him vulnerable. But Banner reassured us that the pre-bond was part of a biological urge to bite, and that once the bond was completed, periods of time away from one another would become much more manageable.

I knew I wanted Bucky to claim me the very first time we’d slept together. I’d been ready— pinned beneath him, throat bared, words tied up in the back of my throat. But we didn’t actually have the conversation until recently, when the topic of my heat came up. It was November, now, and my heat usually came in early December— only once a year, rather than quarterly, thanks to modern suppressants.

Bucky didn’t assume anything, one of the things I loved most about him. He had actually asked if I wanted him to help me through it, and I’d kissed the silly Alpha to death, reassuring him that I wanted nothing more, except….

“I’m ready,” I’d said, biting my lip nervously as I canted my neck a bit to the side, seated on his lap on the cozy armchair in his den.

Bucky’s lips had parted as realization of what I was offering dawned on him. If I’d been nervous about his reaction, the expression on his face at the thought of leaving his mark on me quelled all of my fears. He’d looked… feral with need— pupils blown wide as his scent curled hot and dark around me.

Bucky confessed that he’d felt close to biting me almost every time we’d slept together, but especially when he knotted. I’d felt him licking and sucking at the mark before, never with teeth, but oh so close to where I wanted him.

It wasn’t required to wait until an Omega’s heat to complete a bond, but it was traditional, and Bucky did come of age in the 1930s. It’s rare, but bonding bites sometimes don't take outside of heat, though the chance of that happening to us with our freakish compatibility was highly unlikely.

Despite our eagerness, we decided together to wait until my heat, even though I was ready to roll over and let him claim me— anytime, anyplace.

Besides, the best part of our relationship was that Bucky and I understood each other so keenly it was like we were already bonded. We never fought, never tired of just existing in the same space together, never miscommunicated.

There was just one, singular sore spot in our relationship, and it had to do with Bucky’s protectiveness.

I knew where it came from. And honestly, I understood it. His overprotectiveness stemmed from the same fears that I had every time Bucky was on a dangerous mission without me— the fear that he would never come back. That someone would get the upper hand on the super soldier, and take him away from me for good. And while an Omega’s need to soothe and care for their Alpha was intense, an Alpha’s instinct to protect their Omega was stronger than anything— a deeply instinctual urge powerful enough to start wars, to destroy packs.

Bucky’s instincts were why I hadn’t gone on a mission without him close by, why he insisted that it was either him or Nat— the only other expert his inner Alpha deemed experienced enough— that trained me with guns and knives, why he pushed me so hard during sparring sessions.

It was during one of these particularly taxing sparring sessions in November, a week or so after our discussion about my heat, that Bucky really grated on my nerves. We’d been in the ring for at least two hours at this point, and I was starting to tire, but he was insistent that I master the defensive move he and Nat had been trying to teach me. It was a surefire tactic for someone of my strength and size to overpower an Alpha— or even a super soldier, like himself— and I knew Bucky wanted me to master it so I could singlehandedly protect myself against someone much more powerful than me.

“One more time, doll, I promise. You just gotta lean more into your left. You almost have it,” Bucky said, moving back to the other side of the ring to restart his offensive. What was most infuriating was that he wasn’t even tired. There was barely a sheen of sweat on his skin, while I was panting and drenched, my shirt sticking to my back.

I took a deep breath, shaking away my annoyance, then sank into a defensive position to demonstrate I was ready. Just one more time. Bucky gave me a moment to breathe before charging at me.

The move I was trying to master— one of Natasha’s specialties— involved using my attacker’s strength against him to get the upper hand. I had to duck and lean at just the right moment to launch my body behind and around his larger form, looping my legs around his neck to pull him onto his back, exposing my opponent’s throat and belly to whatever weapon I had on hand. I had the motions and reflexes down pat, but my center of gravity was consistently off, meaning I moved just slow enough for Bucky to grab me and pull me down.

Like the fifty other times we’d attempted the move, just as I swung up to wrap my legs around his neck, Bucky grabbed me by the waist, easily breaking my weaker hold on his back, and deposited me softly, easily on the floor.

Something about this final failure, how easy it was for him to overpower me, snapped something in me. Maybe it was the way he set me down gently on the mat like a delicate flower, instead of dropping me— even though I was more than capable of taking the fall (and usually did, when my sparring partner was someone like Steve or Natasha). Maybe it was the calm, unruffled expression on his face as he hovered over me with an outstretched hand— not mad, not disappointed, but determined for me to get up and start again. But whatever it was filled me with rage.

I was tired. I was more than capable of defending myself without this stupid move. I didn’t need to prove myself to him to soothe his knothead, Alpha instincts. My anger swept through my whole body, lighting me up from the inside out. And despite my innate instincts to respect and submit to my Alpha— I snarled at him and my powers crescendoed, directing hundreds of tiny icicles to form from water molecules in the air around us, before exploding them in a storm of harmless shards that splattered on the mat like cold rain.

Bucky’s calm expression morphed into surprise and then concern at my uncharacteristic outburst, and the anger inside me dissipated faster than it had appeared, until the only thing I felt was overpowering shame at my outburst. I knew my scent probably reeked— a combination of sweat, guilt, anger and embarrassment— but Bucky didn’t wrinkle his nose. Instead, he knelt down and reached out as if to comfort me where I was still laying on the mat, surrounded by little droplets of melted ice.

“Y/N—“ he started, sounding apologetic, and I just couldn’t.

I stood with a huff on my own, too embarrassed at my outburst to lean in and melt into his arms like I wanted to. “I’m done with this move. I need a break,” I said, masking my hurt with ice in my tone. I knew I’d most definitely regret this later, but right now my emotions were overpowering my rational thought. I needed to be alone, before I said something I didn’t mean.

I could see Bucky swallow hard, reaching up to tuck a few wayward strands of hair behind his ear that escaped his hair tie. He nodded. “I’m sorry, if I pushed you too hard, doll. I didn’t mean—“

“It’s fine,” I said, cutting him off. I didn’t want to do this now. I needed to cool off first. “I’m going for a walk outside.” I didn’t need to tell him where I was going, but I knew he would worry even more if his inner Alpha didn’t know where I was off to after a fight. I was upset and needed to cool off, but I didn’t want him to suffer. “I’ll see you later.”

Bucky nodded shortly in response, his face already a blank mask. The sight of how quickly he’d closed himself off to me— after everything— sent a fresh pang of hurt and shame through my heart.

I spun on my heels, heading out the sparring room door, down the hallway to one of the back exits and into the fresh air outside the compound. Without really thinking about where I was going— head occupied with mentally kicking myself for lashing out at Bucky when all he was trying to do was protect me— I started walking on the running path that Sam and I take almost every morning. The path winds between the two buildings of the compound, behind the garage and quinjet hanger, and into the lightly forested area along the compound perimeter. The ground beneath my feet is well-worn, the occasional shoe print marked in the dust and mud.

The fresh air helped soothe my frayed nerves, but the further I walked, the more and more guilt and shame I felt. Bucky was pushy about my self-defense skills, yes, but it came from a place of love and concern, not control. It was the same love and concern that made me needlessly fret over his gear, checking that every single one of his weapons was loaded and operational, before he set out on a mission without me. He knew I could protect myself— he’d seen me in action these past few months, after all— just like I knew he wouldn’t leave base without triple-checking his own gear and weapons.

But just as I was mindless with concern for him, so was he for me. Because he was my Alpha, and I was his Omega.

He didn’t set me down lightly on the mat because he thought I couldn’t handle the fall, he did it because he loves me and he couldn’t bear to hurt me. And I’d went and exploded on him like a bratty, sore loser. Ugh.

I needed to go back to my Alpha and apologize. Cover him with kisses. Let him run me through another hour of drills to soothe his protective instincts, then curl up in bed and show him exactly how much he means to me. I couldn’t stand the thought of Bucky back at the compound alone, feeling like he’d done something wrong, for a second longer.

Determined to fix my mistake, I spun on my heels to turn back around and take the short way home. But just as I turned around, I caught the disgusting, burnt coffee-scent of an unfamiliar Alpha.

Before I could even scream, a gloved hand clapped over my mouth, and a searing pain stabbed me in the neck. Then, the world went black.

#like an animal #my fic #bucky x reader #bucky reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #marvel fic #bucky barnes reader #bucky smut

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

10 Dates | The Moving In Date

Summary: Kim Junmyeon was the epitome of a perfect catch - he was successful, handsome and everything you currently didn’t want in a man. Yet after agreeing to his request to give him 10 dates in total to change your mind, you realised you might have been looking for someone like him all along.

Pairing: Kim Junmyeon x reader

Genre: dating au / romance

Warnings: none

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

You had stopped counting dates with Junmyeon from that moment out. You had already decided in Italy you didn’t need any more to know you wanted to be with him and after your confrontation over the confessions that had surmounted in the foreign country; you were both at ease with one another.

You found that Junmyeon, whilst honest with his thoughts and desires, would still hold back a little at times, worried he was travelling faster down this road together with you.

You didn’t mind the catching up part though. Junmyeon equally had more to learn about you than the girl he had crushed over as a teen. You surprised him often and he kept you on your toes too. It was a good balance of romance and realism and after six months of being together, you woke up in the middle of the night and you just knew.

You would love Junmyeon for the rest of your life.

It was a surreal moment to bask in. The immediate joy that overwhelmed you from such clarity was soon hijacked with a rush of need. You wanted him to know how you felt, you craved to see his reaction and the concept of waiting until the sun rose in the morning seemed unfathomable. You would be worked up until you spoke everything to him, and given it was just a little after two in the morning, you didn’t know how you could even sit still for the next thirty minutes, let alone hours until it was acceptable to go out.

Blinking slowly, you realised that you only had one option and after flinging the blankets back, you got up and put on the clothes closest to you, collecting your bag from your desk and then pulled out your phone. You would simply call for an Uber and go to him.

That would ease your mind and give warmth back to your bones. The mere thought of waking up without being beside him had made you shiver once you had considered all that you had.

Making your way out into the lobby of your apartment complex, you went to order your ride, only to falter when you saw the familiar car outside. Your phone fell away from your view and you vaguely threw it in your purse before heading to the exit, your movements soon rushed. It was a sense of deja vu from your date months ago when you first went to his house, though you had been expecting Junmyeon then.

Just what was he doing outside your apartment right now?

Spotting your approach, Junmyeon jumped out of his car, his eyes round with surprise. “What are you… where were you going?”

“To you,” you announced from within his chest that you had collided with, laughing a little giddily as you breathed him in. You felt grounded, at home once more. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you and couldn’t sleep. Sometimes I just end up driving and sitting here for a bit. It makes me feel closer to you,” he confessed and you pulled back to see the bashful smile he gave you.

Stretching up to peck his lips, you smiled back. “I love you, Kim Junmyeon.”

You expected him to freeze up like he had since the first confession. To rein in his sudden joy so it didn’t burst out prematurely. There had been a couple of times where you had gotten close to uttering those words to him recently, but it never came as easily as it did now. You continued with the comparison of how effortlessly they fell out in Italy, how warm you felt all over from expressing them. You knew this moment trumped the first. You weren’t falling anymore. He had caught you and your heart and now you were certain.

Much like the way you had jolted away with the sudden clarity of your own heart, you were amazed by how readily Junmyeon accepted it.

“God, I love you so much too,” he murmured, kissing you again. You melded into one, your bodies pressed together as much as your lips were.

And then you realised how little you had put on to come out in. Or, Junmyeon did. He looked at your mismatched outfit and chuckled. “You were in a rush?”

“To tell you I loved you. Do you accept me even when I look like a right state?” you teased and Junmyeon grinned, kissing your temples gently.

“Baby, you know I accept everything about you. Except you freezing in this night air. Come on, I’ll take you back to mine.”

Once in his car, you glanced back and forth at the man beside you, trying to wrestle with the second notion in your chest right now. Sure, confessing that you loved him had come easy, but it wasn’t just that which had overwhelmed you. Knowing that you loved Junmyeon as much as you did, you no longer wanted what you had currently. Especially after finding him outside your apartment, and discovering this wasn’t the first time either.

“Junmyeon,” you started and he took his eyes off the road momentarily to look at you curiously.

“What, my love?”

You tried to contain your swooning ways and press onwards, but he lifted his hand away from the steering wheel to grab your own, drawing it up to his lips and brushed them lightly over your knuckles. You squirmed in your seat. “You’re distracting me from my serious question.”

“Distracting you how? You’re the one who told me in the middle of the night you’re in love with me. It’s amazing I’m still functioning right now.”

You whined outlandishly which made him chuckle. But he dropped your hand and nodded for you to continue.

“Let’s change things.”

“Didn’t we just do that with our love confessions?”

“Yes but I mean, further.”

“How?”

You took in a deep breath before saying, “Let’s move in together.”

“R-really?” he asked, darting his focus between you and the road. You noticed he gripped the steering wheel tightly and was struggling to hold back his smile. Swallowing visibly, he then nodded. “Let’s talk about this when I’m not driving.”

It was a supercharged ten minutes until Junmyeon turned off the ignition to his car, shooting you a brief look as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Strangely, he didn’t say a word and got out to head inside, so you followed him across the garage to the internal access door. And once you were inside, Junmyeon spun around and entrapped you against it, kissing you with demand.

Your mind swirled with immediate desire and confusion. As his passion erupted, you were carried along with the building emotion, as well as physically, to his bedroom. And once he had you down on his bed, your lips pulled away from his.

“Is this how you plan to talk about my suggestion?”

He heaved in a steadying breath, shaking his head as he tugged his jumper over his head. “This is my delayed reaction to your confession.”

“Oh, delayed is it?” you murmured, your hands now working on ridding yourself of your clothes. You hadn’t even put on a bra beneath your hoodie and Junmyeon cursed lowly when he discovered this.

“More like, it took a lot of effort to maintain myself until now.”

“We’ll talk later?”

“The answer is yes, but you already know that,” he spoke into the skin just below your ear, causing you to shudder. “It’s always yes when it comes to you.”

“Perhaps we can talk in the morning about my suggestion. Right now, I’m certain we have another type of communication that needs attention.”

Junmyeon smirked and lowered his lips to yours. It wasn’t long until your soul was singing out endless love confessions for him.

“I have to admit this happened a lot later than I expected,” Ayla announced after you returned to the apartment with an arm full of boxes.

Kelsi nodded. “I expected this weeks ago.”

“You’re both okay with me moving out?” you asked and your best friends nodded immediately.

“Please, it’s hardly moving out when you already spend more time there than here.”

“Every weekend you’re gone. And there was that week recently where you seemed to just disappear.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed with a playful push in Kelsi’s direction. “Junmyeon was sick and needed me to nurse him back to health!”

“God only knows how he coped when unwell for all those years without you, Y/N,” Ayla teased and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m sorry it leaves you both in the lurch as I haven’t exactly found a roommate to replace me. But don’t worry I’ll pay my share of the rent until you find someone.”

“That’s all you’re concerned about?” Kelsi wondered with a heavy sigh. “You can repay me by setting me up a date with one of Junmyeon’s friends. Surely since he’s such a prince, he’d have equally amazing people in his world.”

“I wouldn’t really know,” you said and Ayla snorted.

“Y/N’s too blinded by her own happily ever after that she can’t stop to help you with yours, Kels.”

“That’s not entirely true!” you bit back and then laughed sheepishly. “But I do only have eyes for Junmyeon so I can’t really say I’ve paid that much attention to how handsome his friends are or not.”

“When do you move in with your Prince Charming then?”

“He’s coming around tomorrow to help me with the boxes and then any furniture I need on the weekend.”

“Can’t bear to be away from him any longer?”

You proudly admitted to it. “It’s time for us to do this.”

“Soon there will be wedding bells,” Ayla mentioned and you smiled giddily. “Really?! You’re already thinking like that?”

“Maybe children in the next five years would be nice too,” you uttered and both women gasped.

“She’s truly in love with him.”

“I said it from the start, how could she not fall in love with Kim Junmyeon. Just remember I am the reason you found him! If it wasn’t for me, that date wouldn’t have happened!”

Shifting closer to your best friend, you kissed her on the cheek, making her giggle despite trying to push you off as you hugged her. “You are the fairy godmother in my story, Kelsi.”

“Y/N’s beyond salvation now,” Ayla commented and then grinned. “I’m happy for you, babe.”

“Me too! You finally found the right guy who you had dreamed of all along.”

You nodded as you pulled both of them for another hug. You had dreamed of this ever since you were younger. You had kissed a lot of frogs until you found Junmyeon too. But more importantly, you had found yourself at his side. You were no longer running from love or making it something that was expressed in the fairytales. Love took a whole lot more than just being attracted to someone. It meant accepting all of them and journeying with them before you could tell what your heart really felt.

Italy had been the dream and once you had woken up from it, well, it had definitely got you to this point now.

You couldn’t wait to move in with Junmyeon and see what was next for you both.

_________________

Part 10

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scoundrels-in-love · 4 years

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I want to be with you to where the sea sleeps (However the waves, I’ll hold on)

Jaime discovers that the difference between loving Brienne quietly and loving her with a future unfolding ahead of them is separated by a difference the width of the Straits of Tarth. Now, with their return to Winterfell imminent, he has to find the words that will bridge it.

Also on AO3. Part of the Tomorrow (with you) series.

Jaime discovered that the difference between loving Brienne quietly and loving her with a future unfolding ahead of them was separated by a difference the width of the Straits of Tarth. Not wide enough to be uncrossable, but very disorientating when one suddenly found themselves in the middle of the Shipbreaker bay with little but oars and sense of direction to get them the rest of the way.

It was not that he hadn't thought of pressing sweet, lingering kisses to her lips, her cheeks, her hands at every opportune moment. Of loving her with open sincerity that felt as foreign as his own right hand of flesh and blood would have felt now, but just as welcome. Of wedding her and watching the eventual sunset of his life glow brighter for the way the sea of her reflected the light.

He had, so much that the want and the dreams had all blurred together and he could not tell which had come first any longer. But he had never thought much of how to proceed from one scene to another, other than carried by the whim of his imagining mind.

So now that Jaime had to face these questions, he felt rather at a loss.

A sennight had passed since the Festival of Mother, a night when bonfires and music, and wine (but no regret) had swept Brienne toward him and him into her arms.

They had not spoken of the whats and hows, a discomforting echo of secrecy prickling at Jaime, but she did not protest when he'd hold her hand and entwine their fingers or greet her with a kiss in the morning. So if she had intended to keep it secret, she had put in the least amount of effort he had ever seen her using.

Even Selwyn Tarth, who had welcomed him simply and fairly, before warming to his presence gradually and then all at once, had taken notice and spoken to him - well before the night bonfires and wine had lit courage or desire in Brienne's heart to kiss him.

"The day you arrived and she showed you around Evenfall Hall, I thought - I know my daughter still, as grown as she may be now, but I did not know she could smile like that. Or looked at the way you do," her father had said and Jaime had bristled on Brienne's behalf, half swallowing a sharp comment because she loved her father, and equally wanting to say it all the more exactly because of that.

"Consider me chastised," the older man had chuckled, taking notice of the shift in his expression, before growing somber and clasping a large hand on Jaime's shoulder. There were few people who could make Jaime feel small but not insignificant (like his own father had made a habit of), but it seemed to be a shared Tarth trait.

"I have made my share of grave mistakes, and many of them regarding her, and though Kingslayer would not have been my first choice of her husband then… a man that makes her happy, I will gladly take for my godson now, Ser Jaime." Selwyn had used the title before, but it was deliberate now in a way that pressed in Jaime's ribcage with an odd sort of warmth. Back then, there had been a tinge of bitterness, too, for for all of the encouraging words, Brienne's heart had seemed as far as the moon it outshone.

But now?

Now the chance to call her wife felt as close as the brisk, seasalt whispering breeze he could feel upon his face. He had come to the lighthouse to take in the sight as well as to seek some answers, as if he could scry them upon the horizon.

It was not that he doubted his feelings, or even Brienne's. He had confessed to loving her that very first night, but much like the gods, she hadn't said anything in return. Not with her words, though her kisses and hands that held him together and afloat at once sang sweetly. But there had been clouds of disbelief in her eyes, rising with the sun next morning, and they remained there still.

He wasn't good with his words, not when they weren't said in retaliation to a strike that hadn't always come, or passionate pleas - but even those had fallen on deaf ears. Whenever he thought of how to ask, it came out too mild or overwhelming in a way Brienne might not even believe.

But he could convince her, if not with words then with time poured into courting her, as a lady and knight both. He just needed to make sure she knew it was what he intended. And that her unspoken love wasn’t just for simplicity their unconventional union would offer - a man that’d respect her and trust her and one she could do the same for in return, a sizzle of friendship and echoes of the golden man he had once been. He knew it was not, yet thoughts and knowledge were not always the same.

In similar vein, part of him loathed to think of the long trip to Winterfell, in separate rooms and separate lives still, of touching no more than her hand in the North or stealing kisses like he was sixteen and not a man with decades of bittersweet secrecy beneath his skin. That part of him said: ask her, clumsily if you must, but ask her and she may be stunned enough, caught up in Tarth's golden sun enough, to say yes. Marry her, before she changes her mind or comes to her senses, and sees you for the one handed wreck that carries too many graves with him.

But marriage held no man or woman in the feelings it was borne of, neither love nor hatred though the latter often proved to be more enduring. He had seen far too many women trapped in marriages and he had failed to protect them all, from Rhaella and Elia, to his own once-sweet sister, to ever ask Brienne to bind herself to him without the certainty of lifetime in her heart.

And it always came down to words, but how does one say 'you have born an ocean in me and I wish to grow old by its' side, treasuring you every day'?

The sea below threw itself against the cliffs as if in sympathy or perhaps a fortune.

Midday approached and so did steps on the lighthouse's stairs. He thought it might be the keeper, but soon they grew familiar and then a blonde head emerged.

Brienne came to lean against the stone edge next to him, silent but equal parts comforting and unsettling in her presence, the way he had to divide his attention between imagining the taste of seaspray on her lips and remembering that he was allowed to discover it now, if only he solved his conundrum first.

"We should start preparing for departure in a month's time," she spoke, subdued somehow, but he couldn't read her eyes very well when they were fixed on the horizon.

And with that, the clock that had already been whispering at the back of Jaime's mind began its song in earnest.

"As you wish, my lady," he nodded, watching her hands, pale and tender against the dark stone, curl just so, a far cry from the anger and hurt the title used to invoke. He wanted to hold them, warm and shielded from wind and seaspray upon it.

Her voice is just a touch weary: "Jaime, I am no lady, you know that. It has not changed since we last spoke of it."

Which had been sometime during their journey here, he thought, when he had insisted she took the last room remaining at an inn. As always, he had argued that since swearing himself to her, she could only be free of the title and his service (even if it was to protect her back from hurting) by dismissing him. He had fallen asleep next to her on the narrow bed that night because she had yet to yield a fight.

Jaime didn't wish her to, not even now. The title had not been a weapon for a long time, but a way for secret wishes to be spoken out loud and Brienne deserved to know that, instead of the teasing she always seemed to find in it instead.

"It is true it has not changed since then - because my meaning has been the same for years now." He again briefly lamented that he could not entwine their fingers atop the rock ledge, for her hands were too far to grasp in anything but desperate reach. (But was that not the nature of this conversation?)

She was looking at him now and he thought there was only a hint of skittishness in her eyes. If he didn't want it to fester endlessly, he had to speak now.

"Brienne, this… isn't a passing flight of fancy to me. Gods know I am incapable of such a thing. If we are to head back to Winterfell, I do not wish to go as your mere swornsword, though that alone is more than I deserve. I love you and it has not been a secret to anyone but you for a long time now."

She inhaled softly, eyes wide, and it was not the first time he said it, but every time felt new and branding still, like it was raising gently from his bones to press warm marks into his skin from beneath, and perhaps not just to him. But Jaime would brand himself a thousand times as hers and still find joy and warmth in it, he knew that as surely as that the sea would forever worship the shore.

He wanted to tell her that, to give her the wedding oaths here if she'd not have them otherwise yet, to give her that before he showed his heart with actions, too, but before he could, Brienne stepped closer and like the moon, she pulled the tide between them to her - and him with it.

"Let's get married, Jaime." Her voice was quiet, but not out of hesitation. She had thought of this, Jaime realized, and later, he'd ask for how long, but right now he marveled in its existence. It was neither demand nor plea and for that alone, he felt swept away by it, toward her, as her hands came to hold his - and the stump.

"Before we leave because I do not wish to wait for years till we return and I'd rather marry here, in my home. We have waited long enough and to spend more time pretending we have not seems wasteful." She was practical even when her heart was spoken softly, and he couldn't love her more for it. But there was flush to her face and a brightness in her eyes that told him of joy tempered by worry.

“You know, I did intend to court you properly before proposing,” he told her, buoyant and like he could float off on this cresting feeling of happiness, finding anchor only in entwining fingers with hers.

Brienne looked soothed at his admission, though it was a faint shade of how much he had wanted to marry her, wanted it still. That his want far outweighed what he could give her, now that he was titleless and more gray than golden in more than shade of his hair.

“But all things considered, I doubt I could top the courting gifts I’ve already given you, so perhaps this is for the best,” Jaime laughed now instead.

She attempted to scoff, but her lips could not be contained in a frown and spilled into a smile almost immediately: “I don’t need them, Jaime, but if you have given me any, they escape my memory.” “That is surprising, considering you wear one around your waist most days.” She had not today, or most of the days they had spent on Tarth, having also exchanged her blue armor for a brighter blue tunic with rich embroidery and earthly toned breeches that Sansa had gifted her before their departure. There had been visible discomfort about her at the start, like she did not know how to exist without this shell anymore. But gradually, it had eased away, leaving Jaime to marvel at how well peace suited her, too.

“Surely, not back then?” Brienne asked, disbelief apparent, and he could only laugh at the way they had both lost each other and themselves in this smoke and mirror game they had created, just to protect their hearts.

“Even then, Brienne,” Jaime reassured her softly and watched her jaw go briefly slack, before she bit down on her lip, overcome. To give her a chance to think on it, he did what he always did: ran his mouth.

“And you gave me quite the favor in return, bringing back my honor.” He had meant to say it as a soft jape at the expense of himself, but it came out warm and heavy all at once, like a bundle of truth wrapped in warm furs, spilling at their feet. Because she had, had brought him the second most precious gift in the world, outshone only by her heart.

At that, she shook her head fiercely, the frown he had already predicted as soon the words left his mouth, settling on her face. “No, Jaime. I did no such thing.”

“You said it yourself - you would do it for Catelyn and for me. I never forgot it, it haunted me in some ways. Like a light that I couldn’t follow, nor ignore. I tried. At Riverrun. And the Dragonpit. But you were too bright.” Someday, he would tell her for how long she’d been both the sea and the lighthouse and even the storm to him, crashing in on his cage and beckoning to the rocky coast, welcoming even in its sharpness as it offered a chance to live again.

“If every man could be inspired into doing the right thing with a few words, the world would be a far better place than it is, Jaime. You were and are a good person, you have made bad choices and good ones, but you only claim the bad ones as your own.” Brienne spoke with conviction and he heard a bell toll in her words, but he could not think of it now when this hadn’t been meant to be about him.

(Later, when he would lay awake at night and spin her light through his fingers like a thread of sunlight, he would examine the sound and try to let the truth of it in his heart of hearts, every night a little more.)

They had spoken of this before, though never quite as plainly, and his heart swelled with bittersweet ache. The way she’d always believe in his goodness while disregarding her own importance was never changing and spoke too loudly of her believed worth. On the road, she had mentioned that Sansa had said thank you to her, for being a good person at the right place and the right time, and he had seen how the acknowledgement had lit her up, though he knew she must have downplayed it.

He wanted her to take pride in her good heart, realize it for the treasure it was to those she shared it with, instead of finding a way to reflect it back at him. "Even so, without you, I would not have remembered that there was a way to make them. That there is still honor and love left in me and for me."

Her fingers tightened around his, dug in the soft cover over his stump, but not enough to hurt him. She was capable of it, in more ways than she knew, but she always treaded around even these underwater rocks and he wanted to kiss thank yous for that into her skin every day.

"I do know you are not a lighthouse that needs a keeper, Brienne, But if you do wish someone to be by your side, to tend to your needs and guard your light when you are weary, if that can be me… it would be my true happiness and my honor," his voice grew choked at the end, because even that wasn’t enough to express what it’d mean to him. What being next to her already was.

She leaned down just so, her forehead pressing against his, and her smile was a sunrise, slow and unstoppable.

"I would have no other, Jaime."

His hand trembled as he cupped her jaw, before tiptoeing to kiss her, sweetly and deeply. He hadn't known how much he needed it, to be chosen as the only one, no buts and no ifs, to be treasured in this simplest way he had never known. It was more than any I love you Cersei had ever whispered to him, it was commitment that no matter what life threw or offered to her, her hand would always find his. He wasn't the unconventional but easy choice, he was loved and he would be chosen again and again, through battlefields they had waded through and the ones still ahead. There was no criteria he was going to be weighed against daily, no mine until this one line.

He had known that and yet, her words rebuilt castles in him that had never been finished or fallen to sieges of pain and shame and rejection years ago.

When they parted, breathless, Brienne rested her forehead against his again and there was a glimmer of tears in her eyes, like the joy in her was too much to be contained, and he thought of a room in Winterfell, a lifetime and so many ways of loving ago. Thought of all the things he could do to recreate this feeling again and again for her. For his bride. His wife.

Her hand untangled itself from his curls on his nape and cradled his face. Jaime stroked his thumb over her knuckles, soothing little movements as the uncertain seas in them turned to ponds of insecurity and fears, hidden from sight and inconsequential to their current happiness. Eventually, he thought, they would become overgrown enough to be almost completely forgotten, not aching in their depth on most days.

Then, her smile gave way to soft laughter, eyes warm and full with affection he could drown in, but knew he’d learn to swim instead: “But I did already propose, Jaime. No need to do it twice.”

“I think you will agree that it is only fair if I have my chance, too.” He gave her his most obnoxious grin in return.

And if she had any opposition to ‘my lady’ this time, it was stolen from her lips between their kisses by the wind and swept away toward the horizon.

#Jaime x Brienne #Braime #Braime ff #rainy writes stuff #my fic #Tomorrow (with you)

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im-abanana · 4 years

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Finding time to write small one-shots in between online-classes is hard, but boi, this quarantine is perhaps making me slightly more productive?

I shamelessly took inspiration from @geekgirles‘s wonderful Rock!BranchAU (love you, friendo <3), because I just love it and everyone probably knows it at this point-- and I just had to give Tresillo some screen time too, bc I’m just weak for that pal.

Some related parts: part 1, part 2

Summary: Rock!Branch isn’t the best at taking certain hints, so it takes a good friend, who also happens to be an experienced family man, to help the rocker realize what the funk is going on.

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The last thing Branch expected to receive from Tresillo that morning, as he anxiously waited for Poppy outside the Pop Trolls’ medical office, was a honest congratulations and a perhaps-too-vigorous pat on the back.

“Congratulations, for what? What do you mean?” the overly tattooed Rock Troll tilted his head, a vague and irritating sensation of disorientation burdening his already fully-loaded cargo of negativity. Being the responsible and reliable man he was, he hated not being able to understand something immediately. Was Tresillo making fun of him?

Either way, Branch decided that he didn’t care, at least not at the moment. “Listen, I’m really not in the mood for riddles. Poppy is not feeling well, and this medical appointment is taking hours… I’m starting to worry,” he fearfully admitted, hoping that part of the weight on his shoulder would disappear. It didn’t work, of course.

“Poppy’s sick?” The Reggaeton leader’s brow furrowed, his expression not at all ironic; on the contrary, he seemed sincerely taken aback by the Captain’s defensive response. “But I thought she was pregnant?”

Oh. Oh, alright. Branch must’ve misheard, and that was totally comprehensible, considering his actual concern for his beloved mate. Or Tresillo must’ve simply misinterpreted the situation, which was completely fine too, it happens to the best of us.

Poppy wasn’t pregnant, she couldn’t be! … unless?

“And you’re making this assumption because…? I mean, h—how would you know!?” the Captain’s last sentence came out a bit more hysterical than he intended, but he took little notice. How could he take notice, when the pieces were finally coming together?

Upon hearing the Rock Troll’s stupefied question, the Reggaeton leader raised his eyebrows, somehow smug— No, there was actual pride shining in his bluish eyes, with just a tiny amount of amusement. “Why are you acting so surprised? I have fathered three fine trollings after all, and two more are on the way. Créeme Branch,” Tresillo put an encouraging hand on the freaked-out Captain’s shoulder in hopes of calming him. “when Tambora and Marimba got pregnant with our second clutch, I was the first to find out. At some point, you just know.”

It made sense. It all made a terrible, awfully plausible sense.

“So, that’s w-why… y-you really think that Poppy is… could she—” Branch blabbed and stumbled, scorching blood pumping furiously into his pointy ears and probably flooding his entire brain cavity, because the typically eloquent rocker couldn’t string two words together right now. Hell, the world was spinning so hard he could barely stand on his feet!

“If you ask me, there’s a good possibility that Queen Poppy is expecting. I mean, the rounder belly is pretty self-explanatory on its own, but only you can know for sure,” the cerulean Troll replied, his fingers squeezing Branch’s skin tighter to give further support. “The point is, did you give her a reason to be?”

Holy Rock, she actually could be. The signs were all there too, right under his nose; it would explain the constant tiredness, the bigger appetite, the unusual carefulness in each step and movement she took. Last week, when Poppy decided to postpone her own birthday party because ‘she wasn’t feeling like celebrating’, Branch had feared she’d gotten seriously sick. But now—

Now the young Captain had something else to be worried about, something even more important.

An egg, a trolling. A small, precious life that he and Poppy, the kindest soul and the most beautiful angel who ever walked on the planet, had created together. That mere, simple thought alone was enough for Branch’s chest to swell with pure joy and a sense of privilege.

On the other hand, their offspring would be the first half-breed Troll ever generated in… decades or centuries, at the very best. Actually, was there ever a Rock-Pop Troll? And how would the others react to the news? Being pushed away, or worse still, being treated like an outcast or a freak, was the last thing Branch wanted for their child.

“What if the other Trolls don’t accept it? What if they push our kid away, just because he or she is different?” the Rock Troll whispered, his anguished gaze glued on the doctor’s pod front door.

He needed to see Poppy now. He needed to hear her sweet voice, full of reassurance and positivity, or at least, Branch needed to know if the Pop Queen was sharing his own doubts and fears about that particular subject.

“Branch,” what reached his ears instead, was the voice of the Reggaeton Trolls’ leader, this time dead serious and almost peremptory. It demanded respect and attention, and the Captain couldn’t help but give it to him— now more than ever, Branch understood why Tresillo was a tribe leader. “Have you seen my son, Charango? Physically, he is a Reggaeton Troll through and through, with markings on his body and dreadlocks to prove it. And yet, anyone can see how excited he gets when his tìas Wani, Gomdori, Kim-Petit, Ari and Baby Bun come to visit us; he genuinely adores them and their music. Understand what I’m getting at?”

Branch suspected he must’ve had a pretty dumb and clueless look on his face, because Tresillo let out a lighthearted laugh and went straight to the point. “What we are, what we truly are, cannot be seen or touched. We are the decisions we make, the things we’re passionate about. Perhaps my son is a bit Reggaeton and K-Pop inside— so what? Mi música no discrimina a nadie, remember?”

Stunned by that frankness and wisdom, the Rock Troll took a moment to reflect on the Reggaeton leader’s words. Yes, it was true that everything had changed for the better since Poppy united the kingdoms, but his usual paranoid-self couldn’t help but wonder if the other Trolls were actually prepared for such a thing, for a more tangible and physical representation of said union.

“So, do you think the others will just accept it? No curious glances, no nasty comments, no nothing?” Branch finally spoke, his skeptical voice firm, but barely audible.

“While I wouldn’t know about that, I do know that this new generation we’re creating is genuinely… mejor. I can see it in my children’s eyes,” Tresillo firmly replied, laying his benevolent gaze on his three offsprings. “and one day, you will see it in your own kid’s eyes, Branch. On this, I’m absolutely sure.”

The pensive Rock Captain slowly opened his mouth to answer, but a little voice beat him to it. “Papà!” staggering a bit clumsily on feet that were still too big for his tiny, growing legs, one of Tresillo’s trollings approached the two friends. “Moms said they need you right now, and— oh, hello Branch!” the kid chirped, in high spirits as usual, staring happily at the grey rocker.

Branch instantly recognized him, it was Charango. The color of his skin was the same, unmistakable cerulean shade of Tresillo’s, elegantly covered in orange, magenta and yellow stripes and patches on his arms, legs, chest and face, reminding of Tambora’s own body pattern. The child’s nose was yellow and his irises were bright pink, just like his dreadlocks which, however, displayed multicolored tufts of green, ochre and cerulean blue too.

“I better go then, the bosses are calling for me,” Tresillo chuckled, a playful grin appearing on his face as he vigorously patted his friend’s back for the last time and picked up his cheerful son. “Good luck, Branch. Whatever happens, just know that you’ll always find a friend in me and my tribe members.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Branch tipped his head gratefully at the tribe leader, and then at Charango. “Take care, the both of you.”

As the Rock Troll silently watched father and son heading home together, laughing and talking of this and that, he couldn’t help but hope— perhaps a bit selfishly? —that he too could have that kind of relationship with his future children, one day.

The sudden bang of the doctor’s pod front door caught his attention, and before the young Captain knew it, Poppy’s voice resounded in the air.

“Branch, Branch! Come here, quick! You definitely wanna hear the news,” Poppy cried out, her smile brighter than the sun and exuding an excitement she had never shown before. What Tresillo had said was true apparently, there was no need for words; the Rock Troll understood as soon as her magenta, sparkling eyes met his.

To his own surprise, as Branch wrapped his muscular arms around his beloved mate’s waist— where a small life, their own radiant future, was slowly growing —he realized that he wasn’t scared anymore.

#trolls #broppy #branch x poppy #rock branch au #Rock! Branch AU #Rock! Branch #trolls poppy #queen poppy #trolls branch #trolls tresillo #trolls tambora #trolls marimba #dreamworks trolls #trolls world tour #twt #fanfiction #fic #strawberry sourdough #ocs

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tawakkull · 3 years

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ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 63

Zawq and ‘Atash (Pleasure and Thirst)

Meaning the feeling of happiness and satisfaction, and enjoyment and amusement, zawq (pleasure) in Sufi terminology is one of the first breezes of Divine manifestation and one of the first gifts that appear from time to time on the horizon of witnessing the signs of God. It is also the invasion of the heart by which the “hidden treasury” of God is uncovered so that one can know Him by the rays of the Divine light, which we can call succeeding flashes of lightning. Furthermore, it is the first mansion where one can distinguish right from wrong. Yearning for lofty, elevated goals, for virtue, for sincerity and purity of intention in one’s actions, can be regarded as the passport for entering this mansion.

As long as one maintains relationship with God faithfully and from the heart, one begins to feel in the depths of the heart the spiritual pleasure that we can also call “imbibing,” but an “imbibing” without need for a cup or cup-bearer. This pleasure makes the travelers on the way to God intoxicated, according to their rank. As they feel the pleasure, they grow thirstier and desire more and more pleasure, with the result that thirst and satiation follow one upon another in the spirit. They express this state as Gedai did, who says:

O cup-bearer, in the fire of love, I have burnt away, so give me some water!

This comes to the point where the travelers on the way to the Truth, their desire and yearning for Him ever growing, feel pleasure embedded in longing and satisfaction embedded in hunger. They burn with passion for the door that is ajar to be opened completely. The interruption of these favors is impressed on them like a fast, while the resumption of the favors is like a feast, and they murmur in expectation as Muhammed Lutfi Effendi[1] does:

Offer the wine of union: it is time to break fast; Improve this ruin: it is time to display favors.

Another approach to thirst is to see it as such a longing and passion for the Truly Beloved and Desired One that the initiate aches intensely for satisfaction saying, “My liver has become roasted: will there not come help in answer to my sighs?”; the heart of the initiate overflows with love, burns away in flames, and his/her eyes scan the horizon in expectation of Their Lord Who offers them pure drink (76:21). However, so long as a loving initiate remains imprisoned in the lampshade of corporeality, the Truly Beloved One does not manifest Himself to him/her in His perfection. This is why the thirst of the yearning lover who still lingers between corporeality and spirituality increases more and more to the point of being consumed in the flames. The following couplets by Sa’di al-Shirazi[2] are truly beautiful in expressing such a degree of spiritual pleasure and thirst:

You show Your Face, then avoid showing Yourself, Increasing thereby both demand for You and our heat. Whenever I see the Beloved Who has seduced me into His love, I am confused how to act, and bewildered on the straight path. First He burns me in flames, then extinguishes with sprinkles of water, This is why you sometimes see me in flames, And sometimes drowned in water.

Just as ordinary pleasure with its painful and pleasant aspects impresses itself on other organs and parts of the body, so also this pleasure impresses itself on the heart and the conscience or on conscious human nature. God’s Messenger declared: “One who is pleased with God as their Lord (The One Who sustains, administers, and brings up), who is pleased with Islam as their religion, and with Muhammad as their Messenger has tasted the pleasure of belief.”[3] He sometimes expressed this pleasure with the words used to denote bodily pleasures, as in the hadith where he prohibited his Companions from fasting every other day: “I am not like you; my hunger and thirst are satisfied (by God in ways unknown to you).”[4] Whereas, the pleasure tasted by the heart and spirit as a result of spiritual life is purely spiritual, it is more constant when compared with ecstasy and feeds the heart and spirit with ever new radiations. As for ecstasy and stupor, they are gifts that come in certain states of the initiate’s journeying and, despite their being dazzling, they emerge in proportion to the seeker’s spiritual depth.

Pleasure also differs according to its sources. God’s promise of Paradise, eternity, and a vision of Him, one moment of each being superior to thousands of years of worldly life spent in happiness, in return for belief, confirmation, and obedience, is one of those sources of pleasure. Without considering any of the material and spiritual or worldly and other worldly joys, the conscious human nature’s pursuit of nearness to God and always feeling His company and Presence give another kind of pleasure. Completely freed from conceit and egoism, being favored with absolute nearness to God and feeling the uninterrupted pleasures of subsistence with God at the summit of seeing, hearing, and knowing Him alone, is another summit of taste. In short, everyone has their share in the spiritual pleasures in proportion to the degree of their belief, confirmation, and knowledge of the Almighty God.

It is when initiates feel indifference to bodily pleasures, when they are satisfied with them, it is then that they begin to feel constant thirst for spiritual pleasures. We can describe this as an unquenchable thirst. Initiates yearn more and more for the Divine gifts that an excellent guide will pour into their hearts through words and behavior, and feel their conscious nature open to an infinite degree to the knowledge and love of God and spiritual pleasures. Such a conscious nature or, rather, heart, which is its primary pillar, continuously yearns for God until it attains absolute nearness to Him. In time it is completely freed from the prison of corporeality and the density of bodily life and, favored with transcendence of time and space and flying in the heavens of the heart and the spirit, it constantly moves between thirst and satiation, expecting the doors that are slightly ajar to be opened wide.

When at last the disciple willing the Beloved and in love with Him becomes willed and loved by the Beloved, when illumined with His light, colored by His color, and, when, as a result of the burning manifestations of the Divine Existence, all things other than Him have been burned up, the true nature of existence shows itself. Beyond all states and appearances, the One, Unique Being is felt free from all qualitative and quantitative considerations and restrictions; He is the One Who creates all states and makes His servants go from one state to another, He is the one Who gives abundant favors, and the Creator of all acts and deeds. In the following verses, Jalal al-Din al-Rumi illustrates this highest degree of pleasure:

Drink such wine that the jar containing it should be the face of the Beloved, And the cup in which it is offered be intoxicated with the wine itself. Drink such wine from the cup of the Everlasting Face that its bearer should be the One alluded to in Their Lord offers them pure drink. When that wine is brought forth, it leads you to a purification of the filth of corporeality at the time of intoxication. How strange a drink, how exceptional a taste, how unusual a pleasure, How nice a fortune, how great an astonishment, how peculiar a zeal!

Another Sufi, as if leading our hearts to taste the pure wine of pleasure, voices his feelings as follows,

See, all have been intoxicated when Their Lord offers them pure drink, Four, five and seven; are all intoxicated by the Unending Majesty.

O God! Offer us of the wine of Your love and include us among those loved by You!

Let Your blessings and peace be on our master Muhammad, the master of all loved by You, and on his family and Companions, who are approved by You. [1] Muhammed Lutfi Effendi (1868-1956) is one of the Sufi masters who lived in Erzurum. He has a Divan containing many beautiful, lyrical poems. [2] Sa’di el-Shirazi (1215?-1292), the greatest didactic poet of Persia, author of the “Rose-Garden” and the “Orchard”, who also wrote many fine odes and lyrics. [3] Al-Muslim, “Iman,” 56; Al-Tirmidhi, “Iman,” 10. [4] Al-Bukhari, “Sawm,” 48; Al-Muslim, “Siyam,” 55

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thezodiaczone · 4 years

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Cancer Compatibility

CANCER + ARIES (MARCH 21 - APRIL 19) Aries is the zodiac's baby (its first sign); Cancer is its matriarch, ruling the fourth house of motherhood, home and family. Is this relationship doomed to be an Oedipal cliche? Not if you temper these traits through steady, conscious self-development. Otherwise, you easily lapse into automatic roles that polarize you into a parent-child (or master-and-servant) dynamic. Aries can be selfish—not maliciously, but in a crude, clueless style that leaves Cancer resentful and dismayed at the Ram's lack of nuance. Cancer knows how to play the nurturing giver, but this delicate sign needs room to be vulnerable, too. Aries loves to be coddled, but Cancer's maternal indulgences will create a spoiled brat or a demanding diva. Besides, while the Crab may have a tough outer shell, the true warrior is Aries, ruled by aggressive Mars. Your differences are many: Aries is a diehard independent and Cancer is a family guy; Aries needs freedom, the Crab's possessive grip clings tight. You'll need to compromise, or else the relationship can turn into a competitive, jealous hotbed. You can both brood with the best of them, and your dark days eclipse even the tiniest sliver of hope. Talk about depressing. Swear off the silent treatment and learn to communicate as two adult equals.

CANCER + TAURUS (APRIL 20 - MAY 20) ♥♥♥♥ Buy those twin rocking chairs and install them on the porch: You're an old-fashioned throwback, high school sweethearts at any age. No two signs are more traditional, sentimental or family-oriented than yours. Although the sweetness can be cloying, you're a love story for the ages. In fact, you may emulate your own parents (or compensate for their shortcomings), since you share a rather conventional moral compass. Affectionate and nurturing, you crave lifelong security and a comfortable home, and you'll squirrel away a sizeable nest egg together. Not that you don't indulge. Your signs both appreciate art, culture, decorating, music and gourmet food. As parents, you're protective but firm, Taurus doling out tough love in your children's best interest, nurturing Cancer kisses every boo-boo. Framed family pictures creep like urban sprawl through your home. At times, Taurus' booming voice and blunt remarks wound the Crab's tender feelings. Like a bull in a Bernardaud shop, Taurus doesn't realize his own size, strength and intensity. Taurus will need to dial down the volcanic energy—intuitive Cancer doesn't need every point driven home. At the same time, Cancer must overcome insecurities and toughen up, since Taurus doesn't mince words or tiptoe through the tulips for anyone. Sure, there will be tears and misunderstandings, but there's nothing that any recipe calling for heavy cream can't solve. You both love pampering and feasts, and if your waistlines expand along with your joy, c'est la vie.

CANCER + GEMINI (MAY 21 - JUNE 20) Cancer is an emotional Water sign who loves to nest and bond; Gemini is a restless Air sign who prefers intellect over sentiment. You have similar interests, different temperaments. In many cases, this works out anyway. You both adore culture, the more obscure the better. You love to discover new bands, read novels by controversial authors, gorge yourselves at the jewel of a restaurant tucked into an undiscovered neighborhood. You bond over TV shows and bargain-hunting for treasures (you both have a thrifty streak). No flea market, tag sale or eBay store is safe from your scouring, and your home can resemble a bizarre gallery of antiques and modern gadgetry. The tricky part is when you lapse into astrological auto-pilot. Cancer is the zodiac's mother, who heaps on affection, nurturing and well-intended care. To Gemini, this can feel like clinginess and smothering. Gemini is the zodiac's fickle tween, waffling between bouts of dependence and asserting autonomy. There will be moments when Gemini greedily laps up Cancer's doting, and others when mama bird is roughly pushed away with a sarcastic, heart-piercing insult. Cancer must work hard not to take these moments personally—otherwise, the Crab lashes back with a below-the-belt barb, and it turns ugly. Remember, Crabcake: it's not you that Gemini is rejecting, it's your overprotection. Get a pet to dote on instead. Gemini needs space, Cancer needs reassurance. Memorize this formula.

CANCER + CANCER (JUNE 21 - JULY 22) To respin the old joke: What do two Cancers bring on a second date? Answer: a U-Haul. Cancer is the zodiac's nester, and you'll quickly set up a home with a fully-stocked kitchen, cozy furniture, a hand-wired sound system and eclectic art. This is a Water sign match that can work out swimmingly. You're both sensitive and nurturing, and you feel safe in each other's thoughtful care. With your love of culture, you may need a separate room for your collection of books, music and film. While you'll create a trove of sentimental memories and a lovely little family, you can become too insular together. Push yourselves to leave the comfy Crabshell and take more risks. You make fine travel companions, especially on trips involving water: surfing in Maui, an Alaskan cruise or skiing in Aspen. Cancer is ruled by the changeable moon, and at times, your fluctuating moods can clash. On bad days, all that emotion under one roof means slammed doors, screamed insults and hours of sulking. Problems also start when you take everything personally, or let your insecurities paralyze you. We know of one Cancer-Cancer couple where the woman proposed to her fiancé—got down on bended knee when she had the flu!—because she got tired of waiting for him to pop the question. Turns out, he had a ring stashed in his sock drawer, but was scared she would say no. Oh brother. Crabs, grow a pair—don't let this happen to you.

CANCER + LEO (JULY 23 - AUGUST 22) Can you say drama? Between Cancer's moods and Leo's ego, you're a camera crew away from being a reality show—the kind that makes you want to change the channel, only you can't leave the crash scene. Harsh but true. Your signs are both needy and bossy, but in different ways. Cancer is insecure and possessive, and this sign's sensitive Water element can quench Fire-sign Leo's excitement. Leo rules the zodiac's fifth house of drama, and suffers from a terminal case of what relationship expert Alison Armstrong calls "center of the universe disease." Cancer is ruled by the fluctuating moon, Leo by the sun. You literally can be as different as night and day. However, your knee-jerk reactions and hair trigger tempers cause the same amount of destruction. So what works about this match? It's packed with passion and romance, something you both adore. Cancer and Leo are heart-driven signs, and emotional highs are your breath of life. For all the crashes, meltdowns and train wrecks this causes, you remain fiercely, enigmatically loyal. Self-awareness is crucial to this relationship's survival. You both need to take responsibility for the drama you're capable of stirring up. In the best cases, you'll meet after you've learned to temper your emotions, or even better, logged a few dedicated years of therapy.

CANCER + VIRGO (AUGUST 23 - SEPTEMBER 22) ♥♥♥♥ This is a couple that can outlast the ages, since you're fast friends and seamless companions. Virgo is the zodiac's helper and Cancer is its nurturer. Your emotional connection is instant, and you're thrilled to meet a kindred soul who knows how to give, not just take. It's a refreshing break from the usual energy vampires you both attract! Your relationship is sweet and storybook-innocent: lots of handholding, sentimental cards, and anniversary baubles. Yet, you're practical, too, stowing away college funds for your yet-to-be-born children, earning advanced degrees, taking out a mortgage. Security is something you both cherish. In a way, you're like parents and partners to one another: you both express love by nagging, fussing and feeding. And it works. A pair of self-professed nerds, you love to cook, decorate, read novels and learn. No matter how much money you earn, you both remain thrifty, too. (Scoring a high-end treasure at a tag sale or an eBay auction is orgasmic.) Your signs are both family oriented, and you make sweet but strict parents who live for your children. Generally, you're close to your own relatives, and you enjoy spending time at family events or hosting holiday gatherings. Keeping the sexy charge alive will take a little effort, though, since you both love to stay home rather than dress up or hit the town. Push yourselves to leave the nest, and socialize with other couples more often.

CANCER + LIBRA (SEPTEMBER 23 - OCTOBER 22) You're a sweet, romantic couple, but not always a perfect match. On the upside, Cancer is ruled by the caring Moon and Libra by romantic Venus, casting a tender glow on this love affair. With your flair for color, style and objets d'art, you could open an interior design business (your home may in fact resemble an Architectural Digest spread). Now, the challenge: Cancer is a deeply emotional Water sign whose moods fluctuate like the tides. Libra is a social Air sign who prefers to happy-dance through the daisies. Between the Crab's fatalism and Libra's denial, nobody has a strong grip on reality. Better keep a few grounded Earth sign friends on speed dial when you lose perspective. Failing that, you'll need to adapt to each other's opposing natures. Like a stone skipping across the water's surface, Libra averts the plunging depths of Cancer's inconsolable undertows and cloying neediness. Yet, avoidance is futile, since it only upsets the Crab to be ignored. Libra should learn that a hug, flowers and an apology (however undeserved) pave the quickest path to peace. Not that Libra doesn't have his own powerful undercurrent: when those scales tips out of balance, he can escalate a minor breakdown into a Code Orange catastrophe. Admit it: you're both big babies at times. For long-term success, find activities you both enjoy: travel, language classes, dancing, dinner parties. You're gracious hosts and culturally literate people with lots to talk about. Get out and savor life together.

CANCER + SCORPIO (OCTOBER 23 - NOVEMBER 21) You're an ideal match, twin Water signs with deeply complementary natures. Highly suspicious and protective of your privacy, neither of you trusts easily. As a result, you intuitively trust each other. The good news is, you've bet on a winning sea-horse. These two signs can mate for life, and the emotional facets of your relationship deepen into an intimacy few couples reach. Romantic and sentimental occasions never go uncelebrated: birthdays, Valentine's Day, the five-month anniversary of the first time you said "I love you." Sex is a sacred, erotic act that can transport you on a one-way trip to Tantra-ville. You feel safe enough together to try anything. The challenge will be breaking the ice, since you both tend to clam up in a red-faced fluster or any icy aloofness around a new love interest. It helps to talk about music, books, films—anything but your feelings. Once you get past the awkward phase, it's smooth sailing. You genuinely enjoy each other's company, and like to do almost everything together. As parents, you're incredibly nurturing and hands-on, and may struggle to cut the cord when your kids reach adolescence. In fact, control is the big challenge for your signs. Jealous and possessive, you know how to avoid your mate's hot buttons—or to push them when you're feeling spiteful. (The Crab pinches and the Scorpion stings; both can wound the relationship fatally.) At times, Cancer's sulking seems childish to Scorpio, and Scorpio's sharp edges can maim the Crab's tender feelings. Fortunately, you know how to win your way back into each other's good graces once the moody spells pass.

CANCER + SAGITTARIUS (NOVEMBER 22 - DECEMBER 21) You're cut from entirely different cloths and patterns. Sagittarius is neon polka-dot on stretch Lycra; Cancer is Burberry plaid on Swiss wool. You'll never be a match that makes sense to observers—which is why Cancer Tom Cruise and Sagittarius Katie Holmes are such a tabloid target. Is it true love, a train wreck, or a little bit of both? Let's examine. Domestic Cancer rules home, heart and family, and holds his loved ones in his vest pocket. Sagittarius is the restless world traveler who craves freedom and adventure. Sag can either feel smothered or totally nurtured by Cancer. The Crab loves to provide every security for his sweetie, and it's a relief to the Archer to come home to a hot meal, a drawn bath, an adoringly attentive partner. The trouble starts when Sagittarius stops coming home. Sagittarius needs sunlight, air and wide open spaces. Cancer keeps the shades drawn and burrows into his metaphorical Crab shell. When Sagittarius neglects Cancer's need for togetherness, starts hanging out with a rowdy crew of rebels, or traipses the globe alone, Cancer's insecurities are rankled. You have fierce tempers, and the combustion of Cancer's moodiness and Sag's anger can be downright destructive. What the Crab must realize is that a pretty bird in a cage will soon fly the coop—at least, if the bird is a Sag. He must open the windows and trust Sagittarius to come back to the nest, a real act of faith. Your strong sexual chemistry sweetens the pot, but you'll need to adapt to each other's rhythms through hard work and keen listening.

CANCER + CAPRICORN (DECEMBER 22 - JANUARY 19) ♥♥♥♥ Paging June and Ward Cleaver! Cancer is astrology's mother and Capricorn is its patriarch. You're opposite signs that might very well polarize into these retro roles. On the zodiac wheel, Cancer rules the fourth house of home, family and femininity. Capricorn governs its tenth house of fatherhood, authority, masculinity and ambition. In many ways, it's nice to have a mate who happily redresses your shortcomings. Yet, it can also be off-putting. Cancer longs for touch and affection, misty-eyed Hallmark moments and emotionally naked conversations. Stoic Capricorn can be stiff and formal, a closet neurotic who pooh-poohs Cancer's feelings as overblown melodramas. In truth, Capricorn just internalizes his feelings, then falls into depressions or flogs himself mercilessly. You must learn the other's "love language" to succeed as a couple. Cancer shows caring through sentimental gestures, food, togetherness and well-intended nagging. Capricorn's expression is through duty—bringing home a steady paycheck, showing up on time, holding it together when everyone else falls apart. Capricorn must learn to honor Cancer's feelings and intuition; the Crab must develop gratitude for Capricorn's loyalty and quiet wisdom. Parenting is where you really shine as a team. Raising children is the ultimate honor for your signs, as well as a creative challenge. You're both loyal to your families, no matter how much they drive you crazy. This is a quality you respect in each other. At the end of the day, you share enough common values to make a solid, lifelong match.

CANCER + AQUARIUS (JANUARY 20 - FEBRUARY 18) This oddball match is as fascinating and perplexing as a Proenza Schouler pump—and like the highbrow fashion house, few understand its power. Here we have Cancer, sentimental and family-oriented, possessive, anchored by deep roots and tradition. Mix in Aquarius, the sci-fi nomad, a butterfly escaping the net of convention, laughing with you and at you all at once. How on earth…? This is a coupling that doesn't happen often, and for good reason. Cool Aquarius doesn't need much affection, and Cancer withers without physical touch. The Crab clutches his loved ones in powerful pincers, and scuttles after Aquarius, practically begging for love. Naturally, free-spirited Aquarius feels smothered and trapped by these demands for intimacy, and constructs little trap doors everywhere—a basketball team, a drama class, a post on city council. Yet, when wounded Cancer withdraws into his shell, Aquarius is suddenly intrigued. Where did my lifeline go? What Aquarius takes for granted is Cancer's loyalty, which can resemble a mother's love for her troubled teen. The Crab can see the vulnerable child underneath the surly bravado. Beyond that, you owe each other a karmic debt so profound, you can't even articulate it. Explains one Aquarius, who's been with her Cancer mate for 35 years: "I've learned that sometimes you have to do what the other person likes, even if you don't like it." In other words, if you want to stay together, eat your broccoli. You'll certainly grow in spirit and character. Sometimes, your soul needs a challenge more than a smoothly-paved road.

CANCER + PISCES (FEBRUARY 19 - MARCH 20) ♥♥♥♥ You're a pair of softies underneath it all, even if the world sees a hard Crab shell or a tough, scaly Fish. Alone with each other, your compatible Water signs are as tender as can be. You're both compassionate and nurturing, soothing each other with sustenance and sensitivity. There's nothing a stick of butter, cookies made from scratch, or a nice after-dinner cordial by the fire can't solve. Romantic and sensual, you love to pipe classical music through the sound system, light the candelabras and whip up a gourmet feast side-by-side. Hours of kissing and foreplay will follow. Though your relationship is a refuge, it can also become a fishbowl that limits your growth. You absorb each other's fluctuating moods like a sponge, so get out of the aquarium-for-two. With your refined sensibilities, you're excellent patrons of the arts, so head to museums, gallery openings, concerts, and dance performances. Fling open your doors for dinner parties that toast an artistic friend, an esteemed poet, or a relative's good news. This satisfies your nurturing instincts, and invites new energy into your space. You must both learn when to let go of grudges, since you can be passive-aggressive and play the victim when your feelings are hurt. Slammed doors, sulking and brooding must stop. Don't excuse bad behavior with psychobabble, either (e.g., "When you said that, it reminded me of how my mother couldn't love"). Grow up, will you? If you've been cruel, simply say "I'm sorry" and offer a long hug. The power of touch can heal anything between you, too.

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