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woodlandwrites · 3 months

Text

i. mind over matter

aphrodite!reader x luke castellan

pre-tlt, characters 18+, mdni, def going to be a pt.2

warnings: cursing, whole lotta impertinence!

2.7k read - unedited

You have been plagued by flocks of doves and Luke Castellan. So Aphrodite decides to meddle a little a lot in your love life. Who needs memories anyway? Unfortunately, the only person you find comfort in - is the very person you hate.

A/N: first fic in a loooong time - stick with me here. there will be more parts and maybeee some spice? anyways hope you enjoy!

You’d like to think that Aphrodite loved the game of making you miserable. In retrospect, you hated your mother. She was a hard act to follow.

Don’t jump to conclusions - you loved your cabin. Your brothers and sisters were wonderful - not vain like most campers would say. No, that was not an issue. The problem started with one slender, curly haired, crooked smile boy - Luke Castellan. He was the golden boy of Camp Half-Blood and the bane of your existence.

Luke was an astonishingly aggravating self-centered egotistical bigot.

“Why do you hate him so much,” Silena asked one day out of the blue. You both sat in the stands watching Luke teach his swordsmanship class. You pondered her question for a while.

“Because. He confuses me - and aggravates me constantly. I have never met anyone so full of themselves in my entire life. He is Narcissus reborn again. It also does not help that he is a complete jerk,” you nodded as you ate another fresh strawberry. Silena pondered on your words.

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with mom and the whole..argument,” she said in a cautionary tone.

Silena was the only one who knew about you and Aphrodite’s - complicated past. To be fair - she didn’t know the entire truth. The prophecy, the impertinence, all the bullshit. However, she did know that your shoulders seemed to tense every time Aphrodite’s name was mentioned.

“I mean every time I have talked to him at camp counselor meetings he seems like an alright guy.

Silena - forever the optimist. Sometimes when you looked at her through the corner of your eye she resembled your mother. She had this soft tone and locks of hair that seemed to always catch the wind just right. Yeah, no wonder Luke was nice to her. Selina was extremely beautiful - Beckendorf struck gold.

“Yeah, I can see right through the façade-” you were cut off by a dove landing next to you. He started pecking at your strawberries mindlessly. Silena stifled a small giggle.

“It is funny when it isn’t happening to you. The bastards have been following me around for days,” you said annoyed.

You tried scaring the bird away - only for more to return. After a couple minutes an estimated 20 doves flocked around you mimicking every move.

“Go away!” you screamed - only for the feathered friends to cock their heads in curiosity. By now, the entire arena seemed to convert their attention to you.

“Hey! I heard if they shit on your head it’ll bring good luck,” Luke echoed watching amused.

He leaned against his sword in a cocky manner. What an asshole - you hated when he did that. The other campers seemed to laugh along.

“Up yours, Castellan,” you yelled with a face the color of cherries.

The doves had now increased their army to a solid 50 - all looking to you for a further instruction. Doves had followed you around your entire life - a gift your mother had bestowed to you. The unfortunate part was that they were pretty much the most non obedient monsters on the entire planet. You never had truly understood why they would appear - most of the time it was a random occurrence. Of course - Luke was always there to revel in your misfortune. You still had not forgotten when the doves caused a complete riot last month at dinner - leaving quite a mess for you to clean up. The younger campers were still traumatized.

That was the thing about doves - they were just like your mother. At first they are nice to look at, almost sweet. That is until they turn into vicious assailants from Tartarus (Silena says you overreact). They also annoy you - another common attribute with your mother.

“For Gods sake just leave!,” you yelled again, stomping off, bidding Silena goodbye.

You did not want to continue being entertainment for the rest of the campers. The doves seemed to take the hint - maintaining their place in the stands. You were sure there were some week old snacks stuffed between the seats the rotted things could ravish on. Luke chuckled before turning his attention back to his students.

The sun was setting and soon it would be dinner - but you still sat in bed thinking about what Silena had mentioned early about your mom. Maybe it was your nerves - but you knew a visit soon would be unavoidable. The doves only confirmed your suspicion. It was rare for gods to visit Camp Half-Blood, at least publically. The closest thing the camp had to godliness was Mr. D - what a joke. However, you knew your mother and her constant desire to meddle with your life.

Dinner went without a hunch - except for the Stoll twins starting a food fight at the Hermes table. You loved quiet nights like these where the summer breeze feels like a warm hug. Silena nudged you - reading her expression you knew she was inquiring about the events from earlier. A shrug sufficed. You were so caught up in laughing with your siblings you failed to notice the yelling from the other side of the pavilion.

“One of the Ares girls was flirting with Luke after you left today - Charlie and I could not help but laugh. It was so awkward,” Silena mentioned.

There were a couple of murmured sounds and gawking from your siblings - which was the usual. If there was one thing they loved it was - well - love. However this subject rubbed you the wrong way - maybe it was just Luke’s name being mentioned.

It felt like a suffocating gut punch and it was most likely your mothers doing. If there was anything she loved more it was demigod love - the trials and tribulations - and of course the unfortunate ends. It quite literally made you sick. But why did Luke have to be roped in it and moreover - why did you care? You smiled and nodded - trying to pay attention and not let the thoughts take over.

“Get these goddamn things off of me!,” a familiar voice yelled in annoyance.

So wrapped up in thought - you failed to care - assuming it was a practical Hephaestus joke with an Ares kid. Selina quickly nudged you pointing towards the Hermes table - for quite an interesting scene. Luke being attacked by a merciless army of doves.

“Hey Castellan, let them shit on your head - heard it was good luck!,” the words reflected from just a few hours prior.

You couldn’t help but giggle - it was nice not being the receiver of dove aggravated assault (as Beckendorf had termed it). It was also nice not to be the joke for once - everyone laughing at someone else for a change was different.

“Call the damn things off,” he struggled - yelling your name in the process.

“Why do you automatically assume I am the one who set them off? They just do what they want!” you retorted.

Silena looked at you - questioning your motives. He struggled even more as the doves thrashed him around - seemling gaining confidence in their blows. They seemed - deadly - more than before. Silena muttered your name.

“You have to try,” Silena persuaded. Reluctantly you obeyed - knowing she was being more serious than she was putting on.

“Stop!” you yelled sternly to the winged creatures.

Like usual - they did not obey. Unfortunately, they keep going - tearing Luke’s shirt in the process. He held himself quite well against dove assassins - a fact you did not want to admit to yourself.

“παύω!” You spoke - pleading that it would end.

It was all your mothers fault. She wanted you to be miserable. She wanted to ruin your night, humiliate you - and to hurt Luke. You weren’t sure why that last part bothered you so much.

“Φεύγω!” you screamed once more in an earthshaking tone.

The doves dissipated automatically. Like literally - poof - into dust. Again - the entire camp had its eyes on you - what else was new?

“What is wrong with you,” Luke questioned - still astonished at the sheer power of your voice - that very voice that made doves disintegrate. You slowly looked up at his disheveled appearance - he looked worse.

Beautiful.

You wish that voice in your head would go suck a dick!

“Shows over, enjoy your dessert,” you said bitterly to the crowd taking a bow.

Silena yelled your name but you had already darted towards the woods. You could hear the muttering of the crowd questioning the evening entertainment. You could not seem to care.

You took a seat in the sand on the beach overlooking the shore. The moonlight seemed to make the water sparkle like diamonds. You felt almost calm here - no one to distract you from your thoughts. Why did his words strike you like a knife? He might as well plant backbiter into your back, it would hurt less. It all led to the proper question - why? Why would the doves attack him anyway? They had never done anything quite so ruthless before - nevertheless to another sole person.

Then again - it was always about Luke - ever since you got to the infernal camp. He was probably celebrated for his brave victory in the battle of the doves - hoisted up by other campers. You suppose a feast in his honor was in order.

“You think such unhappy thoughts,” an angelic voice sang from the sea.

Your attention turned towards a bundle of sea foam. The foam began to sparkle and mangle to take the shape of a woman the closer it got to shore. Soon after your mother - Aphrodite stood before you - in all her glory.

“I thought seafoam was just whale jizz,” you spoke casually. You chucked at yourself that was a good one!

Of - fucking - course. Your mother was behind the entire dove fiasco - you called it. You should start placing bets at this point.

“Most would be labeled impertinent with that attitude - especially with a God.”

“I am impertinent.” You shrugged, pulling your knees to your chest. Maybe if you really ignored her she would disappear.

“I will not disappear yet - we have much to discuss.”

“Get out of my head.”

“I heard what occurred tonight at dinner. Shame, doves are very gentle creatures.”

A dove magically appeared in her hands, letting out a soft coo. You cringed. If you saw another dove tonight - you might just roast it and eat it.

“So that was you?” You asked venomously.

“Well thanks mom! Now the entire camp thinks I tried to kill the golden boy with a league of killer doves. They all think I am absolutely crazy.”

“I did nothing, my child.” You gawked at her - she paused to collect her thoughts.

“However, you might want to look within yourself before you spit accusations that are not true. I merely gave you a gift - how you use it is at your own expense.” She finished.

“But I don’t control those horrid things - they just show up and do whatever. Why would I even attack Luke with a bunch of wimpy doves?”

That was your mother, having the audacity to say you caused the incident. That it was all your fault.

“Love, perhaps?” Her eyes seemed to glitter at the thought.

“No.” Ugh, not this again, you thought.

“Doves are a mere - personification of one’s inner love. That is why I gave you the gift - so your innermost feelings can never be bottled. That does horrid things to one’s complexion.”

“Well thanks for the shitty gift, mother. Next time maybe a pair of socks will do the trick.”

“Why do you insist on denying who you are? Denying what you are destined to become? Denying yourself the love of the century?”

“Why love someone if they eventually will die.” It was true. Your father had died when you were young - leaving you an orphan. Your demigod friends you made throughout the years died horrible unspeakable deaths.

“Isn’t that all the more fun?”

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you? You just love to see me suffer?”

“You’re being rash.” She fired back.

“Rash? Where have you been?” You scoffed at your godly mother.

“Child, I do not write destiny - I only enforce it. I know you more than you would like to admit, sweet dove. And you - are in love with the child of Hermes.”

Apollo could’ve shot you through the chest - it would have felt better.

“Mother, you have it mixed up - I do not have any feelings for Luke. You’re just making things up because you are bored and need some excitement. Please go back to Olympus and meddle with someone else’s life,” you stated. You staggered to your feet dusting the sand off.

Before you could walk away a bolt of pure energy hit you in your spine. You flew to your feet hitting the ground with a hard thud. In a blur your mother was standing proud above your feet - surrounded in a pink aura.

“Luke Castellan, he will keep you safe - and you will keep him steady.”

You might have thought to curse at her - but you couldn’t speak - let alone move. She had disappeared from vision leaving only a dove in her wake. The pain - was excruciating - like being electrocuted a million times. Your ears rang terrible tunes as you tried to level yourself - only to fall back down. The world was spinning at an unmeasurable pace. You could hear shrill screaming - or was it yours? You weren’t even sure who you were? Only images of dark curls, broad shoulders, and crooked smiles flashed through your vision.

A quake of footsteps running towards the shore were felt as you thrashed in the sand. Voices - yelling a name - whose name? You couldn’t recall. All you knew was darkness.

“Y/N?!” a feminine voice called. You could feel her hands shake your shoulder violently - it felt like knives.

You heard screams - this time knowing it was your shrill cry. You pushed her away with force. You backed away, crawling backwards in desperation.

Once your vision returned you focused to see a swarm of kids all in orange shirts - staring at you in shock. The girl who touched you - you could only assume was kneeling in the sand in front of you. She seemed to be pleading.

“Stay away, please,” you pleaded with tears streaming from your eyes. You weren’t sure what had happened but you knew you had never felt pain so deeply.

“Y/N, please you were screaming. We only want to make sure you are okay. We can go to the infirmary and figure it out,” the girl reached out only for you to retreat more. You hyperventilate on your own words.

“What’s going on?” another voice asked with urgency from beyond the crowd.

Every child seemed to turn their attention to focus on the male figure. Pushing his way through the crowd - he became shocked at the scene before him.

However, you felt as if all the oxygen had left your body - leaving you limp. You felt as if a hand had grabbed your heart and ripped it in two. He was the one - the one you had seen in your visions.

“Y/N?” he questioned - half concerned, half annoyed. His chocolate eyes seemed to lock ever so easily with yours. He was indeed the most beautiful man you had ever seen - like a carving of marble. Your soul ached. Without a thought - on instinct alone - you ran. He was engulfed in a desperate hug - his shoulder muffled your pitiful cries.

“Please, you’re the only one who can help.” You could feel the eyes on the two of you - the gasps were hard to ignore. He went stiff in his posture - not sure how to react. Silence fell over the entire shore, only the crashing of waves in the background.

“Y/N what is going on? Is this some sort of prank?” he asked in disbelief.

He had never seen you like this - so scared. Some small part of him wanted to scoop you up, hold you tight, and tell you everything would be okay. He wanted to tell you how he would fix all your problems - just so he would never see you cry again. Although these feelings were so suppressed he restrained.

Gods you were beautiful.

“I- I don’t know who Y/N is. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know me.”

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #luke castellan x aphrodite!reader #pjo fanfic #pjo #Spotify

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 4 months

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Hello To All!

Hope you all are enjoying your weekend! I read on my phone and I’m not able to find stories. If there’s a way, please tell me how.

Please suggest adult stories for me with a great/happy ending. I prefer chapter stories of adult Klaine. Any suggestions are welcome. Need something to read tonight. Thank you for all you do!

Hello, when I search from my phone, I go onto our libary blog and into the "magnifying glass/search" at the top. I type in a particular word like "adult" or "enemies to lovers" and then a whole lot of previously recommended fics appear. Alternatively download A03 app, and you can search and filter on it.

Also on AO3 check out our 2023 Klainebingo which has 191 tagged stories written 2016-23 that fandom have recommended - not all adult klaine, but definitely worth looking at.

What I've done is made a list of recommendations here of some of Klaine fics I've enjoyed, where they are adults, or mostly post college age. Some newer, some older. ~ Jen

Seven by @scatterthestars

How far would you go for someone you love? For Kurt, that means doing the unimaginable. But if it means saving his dad, he's willing to take that risk. A risk that has him leaving his home to go states away to spend a week with the last person he ever expected to meet. Over the course of the next seven days, things don't go as planned, or thought.

Can seven days change everything?

~~~~~

Feel my heart's intention by @kurtsascot

Blaine started to hate Kurt on his first day. And it was a shame, really, because they could have been cute together.

~~~~~

Falling for You By @caramelcoffeeaddict Coffeeaddict80

A fic written based off a mash-up of these two prompts from the @gleepotluckbigbang prompt page -- Prompt1: During rehearsal I tripped and fell into the orchestra pit and landed on you Prompt2: I have to share a dressing room with the most obnoxious, self-centered jerk; and when you sent flowers to our dressing room, they took them assuming they were for them but they were really for me Featuring: Broadway!Kurt, PianoPlayer!Blaine, Obnoxious!Broadway!Sebastian

~~~~~

Rock, paper, scissors by @gleefulpoppet

Kurt and his seven-year-old daughter are moving from the hustle and bustle of New York to the Rocky Mountains for a fresh start. On a connecting flight from Atlanta, they meet a warmhearted man who captures their attention with his enthusiasm. Will they ever see him again? And even if they do, how will he fit into their new life?

~~~~~

Nashville! by @hkvoyage

Kurt lands the lead role in a new musical, but it flops during the previews. However, his performance captivates Nashville’s newest country music sensation. They share an instant connection and it grows deeper as they get to know each other. Will Kurt be able to save the musical and keep the man of his dreams? An AU meeting featuring country singer!Blaine and Broadway!Kurt.

~~~~~

Made to keep your body warm by @quizasvivamos

Blaine is a meteorologist who works as a weatherman for a local New York news station where he's especially well-known for predicting storms. But, when a huge nor'easter blows in and the news crew is trapped at the station for three days by snow, can he predict what happens when he meets a young new intern?

~~~~~

If music be by @blurglesmurfklaine

Kurt’s just trying to survive his last semester of college, which means making it through student teaching in one piece.

~~~~~

In my place by @heartsmadeofbooks

Blaine has always been shy and introverted, so after his father dies, he looks for comfort into his childhood dream - owning a bookstore. But then Kurt Hummel walks into his life, turning his dream into a complicated affair.

~~~~~

These inconvenient fireworks by @redheadgleek

After an unexpected Tony award, Kurt Hummel is Broadway's hottest up and coming star, which comes with expectations and some admirers that won't take a hint. When his best friend Elliott Gilbert suggests that they pretend to date to get the leeches to back off, Kurt takes him up on the idea. It's all working out great - until Kurt starts to fall hard for the dark-haired music director of his latest musical.

~~~~~

Scenes from December by @spaceorphan18

An exploration of Kurt's life throughout various Decembers. The story of family and how the definition of family changes over time.

~~~~~

Home away from home by @lilyvandersteen

Cooper buys a hotel sight unseen and asks Blaine to run it for him over the summer. Only, the hotel is a health and safety hazard and Inspectors Hummel and Abrams are hell-bent on closing it down. Can Blaine spruce the hotel up in time and save Cooper's investment?

~~~~~

Living Haphazard by anna_timberlake @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion

Have you ever thought of getting cheated by a house broker and getting to know that you had to stay with another stranger who was also cheated? What if you are getting stuck up with the stranger in the apartment due to unavoidable circumstances? What if you hate him as well as have a crush on him? What if you had to fight your inner self and the stranger? What if he agreed on helping you which can only happen in dreams? This is a real living haphazard, isn't it?

~~~~ Someone like you by @iconicklaine

Kurt and Blaine keep up their very own version of "When Harry Met Sally" for years, a friendship fraught with sexual tension and longing, until the agendas of Adele (yes, THE Adele), a bored NY socialite and a super-sweet hetero couple bring our boys together. The only problem is... they're both in committed relationships.

Note: This story is AU after "Sexy" and assumes Kurt and Blaine graduate from Dalton in the same year. In this future fic, set in 2025, Blaine is based off of Season 2 Blaine. Originally posted on LJ and S&C.

~~~~~

The Journeying By @flowerfan2

Freshly graduated from music school, Blaine is thrilled when he is chosen to stay in the cast when the production of Into the Woods he was lucky enough to be part of in Boston moves to Broadway. He knows it’s going to be hard returning to New York City – the scene of his epic breakup with his fiancé and the emotional meltdown which cost him his place at NYADA. But he’s determined that this time, everything will be different. Little does Blaine know that out of thousands of potential castmates, his director has chosen none other than Kurt Hummel to play the part of Jack. Blaine has worked hard to recover from their breakup three years ago, and struggles to find a new way to relate to Kurt and simultaneously protect himself, especially when tragedy strikes.

This story looks at what would have happened if Kurt and Blaine had reacted differently to the break up in 6x01 than they did in canon; if events hadn’t brought them back together as soon, and if forgiveness hadn’t come so easily.

#klaine fanfiction #fic finder #adult klaine #older klaine

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wacky-nameless-inventor-24 · 24 days

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You don’t have to do this but I would love to see you write another story in the Fenro Witch AU where it’s the 1 year anniversary of Boyd’s death and Gyro and Fenton decide to go to Boyd’s grave to pay their respects with flowers with Fenton at some point giving Gyro time alone to say how much he misses Boyd and maybe you could have it that in certain parts such as them walking to Boyd’s grave, we cut to the past on the day of Boyd’s death showing how it happened, Gyro and Fenton’s reaction to finding Boyd (which would probably have a lot of crying, grieving, Gyro holding onto Boyd rocking him in his arms and begging him to wake up), and Boyd’s funeral. Only if you want to write this of course. 😊 ❤️

UAAAAAGH HUGGING GET OUT OF MY HEADDDD IVE HAD A FIC SIMILAR TO THIS PLANNED FOR FOREVER ty for giving me an excuse to write it <3333

Also! purposefully got this done just in time because May 18th is the 1 year anniversary of this au!!

cw- major character death, hanging mentions, implied self harm kind of I think also this is almost 5k words long just so you know how much is under the read more-

Though they never discussed it aloud, they both knew what day it was.

They never needed to plan the day, they both just knew what to do.

Neither of them needed to say it.

It was cloudy that morning, the way it’d been cloudy on that day before. Heavy clouds that hung in the air, weighing down on the earth beneath them. Threatening to spill colder rain on an already freezing day.

The clouds were so thick it was still dark when they got up. Fenton lit a candle, and together they made their way downstairs. Gyro didn’t say a word, and Fenton knew he’d have to watch him today. It would be rough.

Fenton got the flowers and blanket ready while Gyro prepared the food, cutting fruit from last fall that had been magically preserved. It was still much too early in the year for any fresh fruit, so they’d have to make do.

The flowers too- the frost had killed all of the wild ones growing around the house, so they only had a dried bouquet from last year.

“It’s alright,” Fenton said, mostly to himself, as he arranged the faded, crisped plants. “We’ll bring him fresh ones as soon as spring starts.”

Gyro didn’t answer, but the duck hadn’t expected him to. Now as he listened, he realized the sound of cutting from the kitchen had stopped. “Are you done?”

No answer.

Fenton peered in through the doorway, robes swishing as he moved. “We don’t need too man- what happened?”

“Accident,” Gyro grunted, holding two of his fingers tightly in his other hand. Bulb sat on the counter next to him, trying to sniff his fingers, and there was blood on the knife. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

Fenton frowned, he would really need to watch Gyro today. “How bad is it?” He asked as he stepped into the kitchen, moving to one of the medical cupboards.

“It's fine,” the witch grumbled, looking defensive. He still let Fenton take his hand and examine the injury. Bulb looked quite interested too, and mrowed at Fenton, as if asking him to fix the cut. “It’s not that deep.”

It wasn’t, but it went right across the pads of his middle and pointer fingers. Quite an annoying spot for both an injury and a bandage. Fenton wrapped it for him without saying anything, and offered to finish cutting the fruit.

At last they were ready, Fenton held the picnic basket in one hand and interlaced his other arm with Gyro’s. It was just bright enough that they could see fine in the gloom, and Fenton looked up to the sky as they set off. “Hopefully it doesn’t snow.”

Gyro didn’t comment.

The cemetery was brighter, there were no trees above in the clearing to block the meager light that struggled through the clouds. There was a single tree in the center of the headstones, with huge spreading branches and even further spreading roots. Right now its limbs were bare, they creaked in the wind.

Other than that, the forest was quiet.

The plot they were looking for was on the edge of the cemetery, near the treeline. Gyro stopped, reading the headstone as Bulb wound around his legs and Fenton laid out the thick blanket on the crunchy dead grass.

Boyd Gearloose.

The date was exactly one year from today.

“You want to do the flowers?” Fenton asked as he reached for their basket.

Gyro just nodded, he looked simultaneously too numb and emotional to speak.

Fenton sat as his partner sat the flowers down in front of the grave with great reverence. The headstone was small, it didn’t match the make of the others in the cemetery, and the bouquet nearly obscured the engravings.

Gyro then slowly sat on the blanket next to the duck, resting his head on his shoulder. Fenton gently put an arm around him, and Bulb curled up in his lap.

They sat and watched the grave until Fenton’s bottom and back ached, until the clouds had let up to allow more light into the world and Fenton’s neck felt stiff. Still, he refused to move until Gyro did, wanting him to be as comfortable as possible. To let him take his time. He knew they’d be out here for a while, this was why they’d brought food.

At last Gyro let out a deep shuddering breath, turning to bury his face in Fenton’s neck. His shoulders shook with silent sobs, and Fenton wasted no time in wrapping him into a hug and pulling him closer.

“I miss him so much,” Gyro breathed through tears, his beak was tucked right up beneath Fenton’s. “All the time.”

Fenton didn’t answer, rubbing Gyro’s shoulders and staring at the grave. Blinking rapidly when tears pricked his eyes and taking a breath.

“He turns ten in a few months, right? He’d- he’d be so tall by now.” Gyro shifted his head just slightly so he could see the headstone. His tears wetted Fenton’s feathers and his robes.

Last year their grief was too fresh to do anything for Boyd’s birthday. Gyro hadn’t even gotten out of bed that day, but that was a regular occurrence then. Their house was still under construction then, they barely had a roof on their first story, and were sleeping in the living room. Fenton only got up to prepare food.

Gyro hadn’t eaten.

“He’d like it out here, don’t you think?” Gyro’s voice was cracked. “Especially the peach trees in the summer and the apples in the fall- it’d be so much easier to have more help with harvesting.”

Fenton let out a soft sob, holding his partner closer. Tearing his gaze from the headstone as he nuzzled against Gyro. “He would’ve loved to help.”

This was all too much. The wound was too fresh, they were picking at the scab too early. Fenton wanted to get away, he’d suddenly rather be anywhere but here. The cemetery was alright on most days, but on others he avoided the place more than the superstitious villagers did.

Right now he didn’t even want to think about it.

But he didn’t move. Gyro needed to be here today, and Fenton had spent the last year supporting him, pulling him through this. He wasn’t going to stop today.

So he clung to his partner and sobbed along with him, too overwhelmed to do anything else. He cried until his head hurt and his face ached and then he cried some more. Gyro only curled tighter against him, letting himself be enveloped by Fenton while also holding himself. And Fenton held him, kept him there.

Trying to be and to find as much comfort as possible as they unwillingly reminisced on what had happened that night.

—

They were in a tree, there was a branch digging painfully into Gyro’s back.

The witch ignored this as he scanned the nearby houses, searching for any hint of what the angry mob had done with Boyd. This was a temporary refuge, and he needed to use it to figure out a way forward.

Fenton was in the tree next to him, one hand wrapped tightly around a nearby branch as he bit his other fist, trying to keep himself quiet while he sobbed. He was unable to tear his gaze off of their house as it went up in smoke, now a blinding hot beacon in the dark cold night.

Nothing would be left when the fire went out. That much was clear already.

Gyro absently rubbed his back while he searched, trying to keep his panic down. As crazed as the mob was now, he was sure they wouldn’t kill an actual child, right? Besides he had the gallows in his view, the nooses hung thankfully empty. It had been a narrow escape.

Every now and then a group of angry villagers would tramp past their hiding space, screaming with their pitchforks in the air. Gyro and Fenton would duck down while simultaneously pulling their legs up, trying to make themselves as small as possible. The cover of night helped- but the tree's lack of leaves did not. It was too early in the year for even any buds.

Next to him Fenton choked slightly, and the witch leaned over to kiss his temple. “We’ll rebuild when we get out of here.” The loss of their house he could stomach, they’d been needing to get out of the village for months now.

What he really couldn’t let go of was Boyd, he had to be around here somewhere.

As Gyro watched, the town’s mayor, the leader of the mob against them, stepped into the open ground between the houses. The witch’s eyes narrowed in hate, following the old man as he walked casually past the burning wreck of timber that used to be Gyro’s house. Fenton didn’t seem to notice him.

The mayor stepped over to the opposite side of the street, near the woods. He stooped and reached for something that Gyro had dismissed in his study of the area, a misshapen rock, or someone’s discarded shirt. Something small in the shadows, unassuming. Not anything alive- so it couldn’t be Boyd.

No.

Gyro stared as the mayor lifted the tiny, ragged thing, it hung limply in his hand.

No.

Seconds later Gyro had slipped out of the tree, storming past the burning house and into the clearing. “Don’t you dare hurt him- give him to me!”

The mayor glanced up, looking shocked, before his expression turned to a smile. He held Boyd’s body close- how dare he touch him- and Gyro caught sight of the blood running down Boyd’s head.

“They’re over here!” the mayor shouted.

Gyro hardly heard him as he strode toward him. “Give him to me before I curse you and this entire village-”

“You won’t get the chance.” The mayor lifted his head, smirking. Gyro was mere feet from him now. “You’re dead, witch.”

Sure enough, there came the sound of shouts and cries through the woods, from the edges of town. Lit torches appeared through the tree trunks, Gyro heard rushing feet. Alerted by the mayor’s cry, they would all be upon him in seconds. He froze.

But he couldn’t let that stop him. Gyro took the last few steps toward the mayor, reaching for Boyd. “Give him to me-”

His fingers barely brushed the feathers of Boyd’s temple before the mayor pulled him out of his reach. “Not a chance. In just a few moments, you and your witch accomplice will be joining him.”

“Give him-” Gyro broke off as something caught hold of his hand, something held him back. Instinctively he yanked himself away, not tearing his gaze from Boyd’s body. “Let go of me!”

“Gyro, wait.” It was Fenton, hanging onto his sleeve, pulling him away from the mayor, away from Boyd. “We have to get out of here, the whole mob will be here in a second-”

“Boyd!” Gyro tore his hand from Fenton’s grasp, throwing himself toward the little parrot’s body. Immediately there were strong arms around his waist, holding him back. Now in the middle of the street, Gyro was ready to fight Fenton to get to Boyd.

“He’s gone, Gyro. I’m so sorry.” Fenton’s arm loosened and Gyro broke free, only for his wrist to be snagged again. The shouting was getting closer, the torches drawing near.

“No, no, I have to get to him-”

“Gyro!” Fenton shouted. The witch started, looking back at him.

Fenton had tears in his eyes, his chest was heaving, his grip on Gyro’s wrist tightened. “We have to get out of here- please Gyro. I can’t lose you too. We’ll come back for him I promise- but we have to leave.”

The mob had nearly reached the street.

Gyro swallowed, and glanced back at Boyd.

The mayor smiled, canine teeth shining in the firelight.

Everything stayed frozen like that for a split second, as Gyro felt like he was free falling. The ground disappearing, wind whooshing past him. His stomach churning.

With a sob he half collapsed against Fenton, allowing the witch to pull him toward the treeline. Together they half stumbled, half ran, trying to get away from the mob behind them.

That night was a blur. Gyro was barely in reality, just conscious enough to stay upright as Fenton pulled him forward. They were always pursued by the fiery shouting monster, no matter where they went or hid the mob was close on their heels.

Gyro cut his feet, crashed into trees, tripped several times, but Fenton was always there, helping him up, pulling him along. No matter how many exits the mob blocked off Fenton seemed to find one last one, and get them out through it in the nick of time.

The witch’s lungs burned and his body ached, but he kept going. Nowhere was safe, they couldn’t stay in any hiding spot for long. He stumped through the forest, sobbing. They had to keep moving, had to stay alive.

Despite all of this, Gyro barely felt anything.

All of it was lost in a swirling haze of numbness.

At last they stopped, Gyro immediately crumpling to the roots of a tree. Clinging to the bark the moment he hit the ground, curling further in on himself as he sobbed. Fenton collapsed next to him, catching his breath, rubbing Gyro’s back.

“He’s gone, Fenton.” Gyro gasped, curling into a tighter ball, hardly caring where the rocks and roots dug into his back. “He’s gone.”

Fenton shifted, pulling Gyro further against him. Holding him tightly. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

They stayed by that tree that night, sleeping in the roots against the trunk. Gyro curled up on top of Fenton, crying himself to sleep, while Fenton wordlessly held him and did his best to comfort him.

Nothing would help right now, but Gyro appreciated it.

The next morning, the witch woke slowly. Even in his sleep he’d still been clinging tightly to Fenton’s shirt, he slowly loosened his fist as he opened his eyes. His fingers were sore.

He wished it’d been a dream, he didn’t want to look up, to realize where they were. In the middle of the freezing woods.

Without Boyd.

Looking around and realizing all of this would mean it was true.

He could hear Fenton’s heartbeat beneath his head, feel the rise and fall of his chest. The duck’s arms were still wrapped around him, holding him close.

In a flash, Gyro sat up.

“How could you?!”

Fenton started awake just in time to feel Gyro’s hands landing on his shoulders, angrily pinning him against the tree. “Huh? Gyro wh-”

“You made me leave him behind!” Gyro shouted in his face. Fenton blinked up at him. “I wanted to stay- I wanted to get him back- but you wanted to leave! You made me leave him!”

“Gyro-”

“I left him with- with- no, you left him- this is your fault he’s not with us!”

“Gyro-”

“I shouldn’t have let you make me leave him- I should’ve gone back- I should go back-”

“Gyro!”

The duck’s shout snapped him out of it. He froze for a moment, staring at Fenton, hands still tightly gripping to his shoulders. Fenton’s eyes were wide, he looked startled and scared and worried. Hesitantly, as if he were dealing with a spooked wild animal, his hand slowly slid up Gyro’s back.“Gyro, I-”

That was all it took. The witch collapsed on top of him, head ducked as he sobbed into Fenton’s chest, his hands clutching at the shoulders of the duck’s shirt. Holding on to him as tightly as he could, never wanting to let go of what he had left. “I’m sorry-”

“Hey, sshhhh, it’s okay.” Fenton shushed him, rubbing his back. His voice cracked, and without looking up, Gyro lifted his hand to gently cup the side of Fenton’s face, to catch his tears with his thumb. “I’m- I’m sorry we had to leave him too.”

Gyro just swallowed, and held onto him tighter. He could feel Fenton’s shuddering breaths beneath him, the duck was doing everything he could to keep himself together. Gyro had completely given up on that by now, he let himself totally break down in Fenton’s arms.

Somewhere between five minutes and two hours later Fenton shifted, sitting up further against the trunk of the tree. Gyro was forced to sit up with him, but he refused to unbury his face from the duck’s chest. “Hey.” Fenton held the side of his face, trying to get his attention.

Gyro couldn’t bring himself to move.

Fenton understood. “As soon as you’re okay enough to be on your own for a little I’ll go get him, okay?”

The witch lifted his head. “No- no I don’t want to risk you too-”

“Gyro,” Fenton cut through his worries. “I’ll be safe, I promise. Things will have calmed down by now, now that it’s morning. I’ll sneak in and out and bring him back here so you can see him again, and so they won’t have him. We can bury him out here.”

Gyro sat back, looking around.

They were in the old cemetery.

They’d slept beneath the huge tree in the center of the headstones, perhaps the one safe place for them to go now. As afraid of the witches as the villagers were they were even more afraid of a haunted cemetery and wouldn’t step foot between the graves. It was a perfect safe haven.

“You brought us here on purpose?” Gyro asked.

Fenton nodded. “I figured they wouldn’t touch us if we stayed here- especially at night. We’d mostly lost them before I’d thought of it, so that theory hasn’t been entirely tested yet.”

The witch let out a breath. Burying Boyd here, in a haunted cemetery in the middle of the woods, where no one but them would come to visit him but them. Where he could be secreted away from the people who had killed him.

Gyro must’ve started shaking because a few seconds later Fenton was pulling him into a hug, squeezing him as tightly as he could.

“They killed him,” Gyro gasped through tears. “They hated us so much they killed him.”

Fenton didn’t have an answer to that, so he just held Gyro until the shaking stopped.

It was hours before Fenton left, no matter how much Gyro assured him he was fine the duck didn’t want to leave him there alone. At last he stood, leaning down to kiss Gyro’s forehead. “I’ll be back in an hour, alright?”

That felt like the longest hour of Gyro’s life. It was late March and freezing cold, and the witch stayed curled against the trunk of the tree, staring off into space. He’d cried himself out by then, so he simply watched the dead leaves blow past in the cold breeze, occasionally wiping his eyes.

Having no concept of time in this state Gyro had no idea how long it really was- whether it was one hour or four he would never know. He would sit and wait until Fenton got back and if he didn’t, if he’d been caught, Gyro would simply sit there until he wasted away beneath the tree.

Though, watching Fenton approach through the trees was the worst part.

Gyro was already breaking down by the time Fenton emerged into the clearing, Boyd’s small body held against his chest. Tears streaming down his face the witch reached for him, and Fenton gently passed Boyd into his arms.

“Careful with his head,” Fenton murmured. “They cleaned him up a little, but it looks like that’s where…” he trailed off, not needing to say it.

They sat together beneath the tree, holding Boyd’s limp body and sobbing. He was cold, too cold, and Gyro held him close to try and warm him up. Maybe if he was warm again, then he could wake up.

He never did.

Gyro rocked him the way he used to before putting him to bed, resting his forehead against the little parrot’s. “Boyd,” he whispered.

From next to him, Fenton made a sound like a cross between a choke and a sob.

“God Boyd-” the witch hugged him tighter, his arms a protective shield. “I’m so sorry- I should’ve stayed with you- I shouldn’t have let them take you-”

Of course he could protect him now, after he was already dead. Gyro had been no use in saving his life, in keeping him alive. “I should’ve tried harder to fight them, I promise I was doing my best for you but it-” he choked, “it wasn’t enough.”

Fenton’s arms around him tightened.

Together the three of them sank to the ground, Gyro and Fenton no longer strong enough to hold themselves up as they created a little protective circle around Boyd. Shielding him off from the rest of the world.

But nothing they could do now would make up for losing him.

They buried Boyd the next day, Fenton sneaking back to the village for food and a shovel. He came back with what looked like a little white fluff ball on his shoulder. “Hey, look who survived the fire!” the duck exclaimed as he approached Gyro with the food.

The witch glanced up, eyes swollen with tears, but no fresh ones in the moment. “What?”

Fenton sat next to him, passing him some bread and dried fruit. He then lifted the little puff from his shoulder. “It’s Bulb! I didn’t think he’d made it- but I found him in the woods right next to the house.” The duck hesitated. “What’s left of it.”

Bulb- Boyd’s kitten. The one that Gyro hadn’t wanted, but Boyd had begged for and cared for by himself to prove they could keep it.

Now it suddenly felt like it was all they had left of him.

Gyro sighed, reaching out to pet the little cream-colored kitten’s head. “Hey, Bulb.”

Fenton began digging a few minutes later, in an empty spot at the edge of the cemetery near the treeline. The ground was soft and the grass was dead, and the plot didn’t need to be very big. Fenton had it finished all too soon for Gyro’s liking.

He didn’t want to say goodbye yet.

Gyro saved four of Boyd’s soft grey feathers, and clung to them as Fenton lowered the little body into the ground. They’d wrapped him in a blanket that Fenton had taken from the village and laid some dried flowers down on top of him.

Fenton let Gyro put the first handful of dirt back into the grave, Gyro unfurling shaky fingers and letting the first fall loose. Letting go of the dirt felt like letting go of Boyd- releasing his hand for the last time.

A few moments later, Gyro threw up what little of the food he’d had at the edge of the trees while Fenton rubbed his back.

It really wasn’t much of a funeral, Gyro sitting at the edge of the grave with Bulb in his lap, numbly watching Fenton fill the dirt back in. He had too many thoughts whirling around his head to voice a final goodbye, he couldn't catch any of them and pin them down long enough to form a coherent thought.

The exercise was good for Fenton Gyro could tell- the duck had tears in his eyes as he worked but he put as much effort into it as his body allowed him. Sleeves rolled up, grunting, his face red with effort, he worked his way into a rhythm. Letting his emotions out that way.

Gyro couldn’t. He just stared at the hole as it slowly got more and more shallow, his body aching. Eventually Fenton dropped down next to him, sweating and out of breath.

Together they sat and stared at the grave until the sun went down.

—

It was a long time later that they both sat up, and Fenton wordlessly passed out the food. They ate mostly in silence, Gyro occasionally giving little pieces of peaches to Bulb.

Surprisingly the sun came out- the breeze picked up into a chilling wind, but it blew the clouds out of the way and allowed the warm sun to shine down. Fenton looked up as the sunlight hit them, smiling faintly. They could use a little sun right now.

Glancing back down, he realized Gyro’s hands were shaking.

The duck gently reached out and placed his hands on top of Gyro’s, steadying them. The witch swallowed, flipping his hand the other way to tightly interlace his fingers with Fenton’s. Fenton gave him a smile, which Gyro half heartedly returned.

He was trying. That was something.

“So much has changed since… since he was here.” Gyro voiced at last, clearing his throat. “It feels like we’re moving on without him, but… but then I come back here and suddenly everything’s exactly the way it was when we buried him.”

“The sun’s out,” Fenton pointed out. “And you didn’t throw up this time.” Gyro snorted. “So maybe things are better than then?”

The witch leaned back, propping himself up on one hand. “I suppose.” Letting out a heavy breath, he tilted his head back. “I didn’t even get to hold him one last time-” his breath hitched. “I wish I could’ve known I was tucking him in for the last time, there was so much I could’ve- I should’ve- said and done, I-” he took a deep breath. “I miss him.”

Fenton folded his legs tighter, looking back at the grave. “Me too.”

Even in a new place, Boyd’s empty space could be felt. Fenton missed him in the mornings, when he would make squealing noises to try and match the sound of the whistling kettle. The way he used to lay in the sun next to Bulb, soaking up the light just like the cat. In the afternoons he would pick flowers in the spring and present them to Gyro and Fenton, there were so many less vases of small wildflowers now. He used to sing the enchantment songs Gyro taught him at the top of his lungs just for fun, accidentally causing nearby flies to move in a particular pattern or the air to swirl around him. How when they tucked him in at night by telling him stories, he’d listen to theirs before telling an eternally long one of his he came up with on the spot- just so he wouldn’t have to go to sleep.

Fenton didn’t even realize he was crying again until Gyro had moved right next to him, kissing his forehead and wiping away his tears with his thumb.

The duck leaned into him, a fresh sob rising in his throat.

“I’m just so sad about it,” Fenton breathed, his face buried in Gyro’s shoulder. “All the time still. I- I don’t want to be sad anymore but- but I still want- I still need- to miss him.”

“I know,” Gyro murmured. “I’m sick and tired of being miserable but I don’t want to be happy without him.”

“Yeah,” the duck swallowed, wrapping an arm around his partner. “Yeah.”

The breeze blew past, ruffling their feathers and stirring the leaves. Doing it’s best to try and carry away some of their grief.

It wasn’t until the sun was setting that they made their way back to the house, Bulb walking at their heels. Fenton set up a fire near the back porch while Gyro put their things away. The day surprisingly had brought some life back into him- Fenton knew he could leave him alone for a minute.

They sat out on the back porch and watched the sun go down, both of them looking up at the stars and shedding a few last tears. At last they made dinner in the fire, sitting close to each other to stay warm on the cold early-spring night.

Gyro rested his head on Fenton’s shoulder. “Talk to me,” he asked.

Fenton thought for a moment, unsure what to talk about. If Gyro wanted to hear more about Boyd, or if he wanted Fenton to distract him from his grief.

So he recounted one of the fairytales from one of the storybooks inside. It was one they both knew, though neither had reread in a long time. They didn’t mind, it was something to fill the silence.

The witch let himself get really into it, doing impressions of the voices, acting out the scenes. At one point he stood to reenact a fight scene, and pulled Gyro up with him, letting him act as the damsel that Fenton was nobly trying to save.

Gyro spun around their imaginary battlefield with him, laughing and cheering as he collapsed against Fenton, listening to him recount the story.

Laughter like this from Gyro was all too rare these days, and Fenton pulled him close by the waist, pretending to fight off a great beast. Gyro collapsed into him, drunk off of laughter as he wrapped his arms around the duck’s shoulders and cackled into his ears. Fenton squeezed him tight, not wanting to let the moment go.

With one last dramatic whirl Fenton slayed their imaginary beast, and together they landed back in their seats by the fire, clutching to one another as they laughed. Gyro’s head on Fenton’s chest as he clung to his shoulders, shaking with laughter.

Fenton held on to him as their laughter died down, turning to a quiet contentment.

Gyro lifted his head, nuzzling the end of his beak against Fenton’s. “Thank you.”

The duck grinned at him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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pyroweasel · 11 months

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🤡🎢✨⛔💖💌❌👀🤲

🤡 (What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?)

I'll share this WIP line that will probably never see the light of day. You kind of need to know to appreciate it, maybe, but it still kind of makes me laugh. **"Don't fucking touch me - filthy little - do you ever bathe?”

"I try not to," Peep chirps, and then with a fresh grin they reach both hands out in Hazel's direction - making grabbing motions as if threatening to touch his face."** 🎢 (Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?) Had To Be You, hands down. Mostly because it would so wildly fluctuate from 'this part is so easy let me publish four chapters in a row' to 'I've taken two months to finish this chapter and I still hate it.' It was a good time over all but boy was it a ride to get through. ✨ (Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉) I already did one do I have to do another...(jkjk) I think my long/run-on sentences are pretty well-crafted and tend to add exactly the sort of punch/affect I'm trying to manage. ⛔ (Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?) Oh I have so many of these. I wouldn't even try to list them, but I'll highlight one of my personal favorites. I once had a fic planned that was essentially Addison being assigned Captain on this massive ship who's sole purpose was to transport "precious cargo." Spoiler alert, the cargo was an imprisoned Trep. It was very saucy, very much meant to highlight Trep's abilities as an Imp and was not necessarily destined for a good ending. It would have been fun, I think.

💖 (What made you start writing?) I couldn't tell you, honestly. I've been writing since I was a kid, since before I even remember doing it. We still have one of the first 'books' I ever wrote. What I can say is it's just...everything to me. It's a distraction. It's soothing. It's a way for me to connect with my partner and my friends. When I'm really sad, or really happy, or hell I'll say it even horny, writing is there, you know? I can do anything I want in there. I can write anything I want. I can bring these characters that mean everything to me to life in my own words. I can put them through hell, or get them comfort, or find them love. I can explore the world's brightest themes, and its darkest. I don't know. It's how I get all the things inside out. I don't really have any other creative pursuits that I feel like I'm good enough at to do that, so writing is the way. 💌 (How do you feel about comments and feedback?) I love comments. I love to know what I did right, what resonated, what people are thinking about what could happen next. I also love expressions of joy/enjoyment like keysmashes and such. I'm sensitive to criticism though, even well-meaning criticism, which is purely a me issue but can make getting feedback/comments kind of stressful sometimes. Especially when I'm nervous about a write to begin with.

❌ (What's a trope you will never write?) Never is a strong word because there have been times I've dabbled in things I thought I'd never dabble in. And I honestly can't think of any specific one right now that makes me thing 'ew no never.' I don't enjoy most things centering around pregnancy, though. Little cute moments with pregnant characters is one thing, but I don't like to focus on it much. 👀 (Tell me about an up and coming wip please!)

I have so many WIPs....a few fan favorites in the works are more chapters for the reincarnation AU for Hazing, Fable finally gets to meet Keet's pets, that one chapter for To The Left where these two finally get down, and a scattering of other hazing stuff. 🤲 (Would you please share a snippet of a wip?)

Okay...let me dig one up here. **Home, he thinks - spitting the word in his mind even as his feet turn in its direction. A tiny townhouse he doesn't know the first thing about fixing. A ratty bed, a shitty TV, a computer that barely connects most of the time. The self-inflicted bare minimum because it has never really been his home - only a place for his pets. A place to land when he wanted to rest because where the hell else was he supposed to go?

It's not his home, he thinks - bitter, angry, aching.

It's not his home, he thinks - paused outside, glaring up at the shingles and the brick. Humans pass around him - souls whispering at a distance, arching briefly in his direction until they're far enough away to snap free. Busy, loud, and something stings at his eyes.

"Keet?"

He starts, turns, and there's Fable. This silly little human who resists his pull but somehow keeps finding him anyway. Who'd held him at his worst, and called themself his friend, and who's here now, again. Standing near his apartment, watching him with a turned head and a curious stare.

"Are you alright?"

Keet opens his mouth to answer - closes it again - and then finally, after a second, he says instead,

"What are you doing here?"**

#ask game #5amanthus

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saucysheba · 2 months

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first four pages of what I've been working on, just a waring it's very self-indulgent and still working on editing/wrapping up the first chapter. This is just a little bit

Chapter 1

Notes: Song Mimzy sings is 'Empty Bed Blues' by J. C. Johnson / Recorded by Bessie Smith

Bee's Knees

Neon lights crackled in greeting, vibrant pink and reds framed her name. Bold, brash and a touch tacky, just like her. A series of taps on the door then he gave the password, but the bouncer hesitated. Alastor could only guess what all the owner had said about him since they parted. Nothing pleasant, if the stalling was anything to go by.

“Hold on. Let me ask” the doorman began, about to pull the eye slot closed, but he was quicker. Microphone-cane tiled to jam the narrow window open. “I wouldn't if I were you” ever-present grin and no malice to be detected, the promise hung in the air all the same. Slit pupils narrowed further, but there was a tremor of fear in their voice.“She's not gonna want to see you...”

He eased in close, the bouncer stepping back. A low glow to red eyes pierced the dark between. His expression didn't budge nor a change in tone, but the Radio Demon made it clear he wasn't walking away. Nor was anyone else getting in. Despite being a slight being, he seemed to take up the entire space all the same. “It's me. She'll want to see me.”

Without another word, the door unlatched and opened to him.

Spotlight in her eyes, stage beneath her dancing shoes and a fresh gin cocktail was waiting on her after this song set. Mimzy never felt at home anywhere else but this run down building. The crowd tonight was thin, but not as barren a landscape as before. Such a somber, heart-broken song to contrast her upbeat spirits, but a singer was not much off from an actress.

I woke up this mornin' with an awful aching head a gloved hand gently griped the microphone, the opposite pressed to the mentioned forehead, while behind her the pianist and trombone player accompanied.

My new man had left me just a room with an empty bed...lips painted a dark purple briefly pursed, letting her fall behind by a beat. Mimzy thought she saw a glowing set of eyes, peering out from the audience. Shaking that thought loose, she adapted her misstep to a soft ohh, leading into He was a deep sea diver with a stroke that can't go wrong.

A sly wink to one of her audience members, until his date decided to give him a not-so-discrete elbow. He can sense the bottom and his wind holds out so long a satin glove lovingly touched along the 'ribs' of the piano, tracing it's curves.

Oh, he knows how to thrill me and he knows how to thrill me night and day!

By the fourth verse, Mimzy noticed movement from the audience. Could pick up faint whispers, hushed tones and hasty footfalls. As she and the musicians built up to the chorus, the bar patrons dwindled, those glowing eyes were back. This time, Mimzy's vision had adjusted enough that she could see a triangle silhouette and yellow-grinning teeth. As the crowd dissipated, so did her enjoyment of the piece.

As Mimzy sang about her new love leaving her for a friend, static started creeping in, her assumption all but confirmed by the noise competing with her and the musicians. Chairs were reclaimed by beings crafted from shadows, all mirroring his smile. Mocking her. She was nothing if not a professional performer though, so even though her voice tightened and her expression less seductive and closer to annoyed, Mimzy saw the song through to the end.

Canned applause, the mockery of recorded laughter and whistles of a fabricated audience rang in her ears. A tight smile answered the pouring of affection from adoring phantom public.

“Thank you, thank you! My, what a turn out! Don't think I've ever seen such a packed house since the 50's!”

Whiskey was poured for him, while all around Alastor shadows made for a rousing audience. This is what she wanted after all. A crowd, all looking at her on center stage. She sang the old favorites, spared him a glance here and there, but refused to approach. Until intermission.

Although the shadows didn't need a breather for drinks and snacks, she kept to the program. A fresh string of musicians played as Mimzy came down to take to the dance floor. She picked a shadow, taking their phantom hands in hers to dance. He found himself amused at how Mimzy purposefully led her 'partner' near his table, making sure to spin out within inches of him. A pointed look, taunting even.

He was in no hurry to reclaim the flapper from any of his body doubles. Instead, Alastor politely tipped his glass and put in the order for another. A red hued gaze followed how she moved all over the dance floor, pulling his shadows to dance with her, fostering them to dance with each other. The power of suggestion from her was weak, but he indulged by letting them mill about and take up familiar dancing steps. As with her earlier patrons, one by one dancing pairs dwindled. Until it was her, one remaining shadow and him.

A graceful twirl reeled her into him, an effortless catch as the glass of whiskey switched from one hand to another.

“We meet again”

Her answer was a loud 'hmph', reddened cheeks and a turn of her head.

“Oh ho, someone still bitter over being turned out?”

She attempted to walk by him, to capture the shadowy form and resume the dance, but Alastor banished the distraction. Just them, the musicians and the bartender. Mimzy made it a point to turn to her musicians. Alastor returned to his drink, watching an animated conversation unfold.

“Why should we stay and play for one guy?” the pianist asked, hat tilted over yellow eyes, interlocked jaw only opening as he spoke.

“You'll stay if you want your paycheck!” Mimzy snapped in response, hands resting on her hips. She soon regretted her words though because she felt caught in a cross-fire of glares. Soon enough, the bassist spoke up, long fingers tapping against the body of their instrument “Mim, do you have the money to pay us? Thought you were banking on tonight's profits.”

“I...”she struggled for an excuse, a reason to keep them around. Years ago, she would have loved to have Alastor around. To bask in his attention. Couldn't run a jazz bar on a sole patron. Couldn't force her musicians to stay.

Instead, the blonde hung her head in defeat. “One more song, please. Then I'll pay you guys out and you can go home.” She needed time to gather her thoughts, figure out what Alastor wanted and turn in early herself since the Radio Demon taking up the entire bar would discourage more business her way.

Even the compromise got some grumbles. Mimzy felt their disappointment was a fair reaction. It was too late at night for them to find other gigs, they played over two hours and would get a paltry amount for their trouble. She would hardly be surprised if a couple of them quit or simply didn't show up tomorrow.

The final bars of “What'll I Do” echoed with Mimzy. Melodious and melancholy followed her upstairs to her office. A turn of the vault dial interrupted a somber humming rendition as the flapper knelt down. A frown followed by a sigh from painted lips. Gloved fingers raked through short blond hair as she looked at the stack of cash. She was thumbing through the bills on the way down, finding the bar as abandoned as she left it.

The musicians had packed up their gear, moved to the entryway, meaning the Radio Demon was free to move about. Darting glances to the being as dim glow from lit cigarettes and cigars soon flooded the hall with smoke. “He'd better not fuck with the piano, just got that bastard tunned” Brutus warned her as Mimzy handed over tonight's pay.

“What?”she turned on her heel to glance at the stage. Sure enough, Alastor was seated at the piano bench, his drink perched on a coaster with a conjured table end. “Oh no, it's fine. He knows what he's doing.” A scoff from her musician, but Mimzy let it go without remark. The bartender was the last to leave, lingering in fact.

“You gonna be okay here, Mim?”he asked, skin alternating between dark spots and patches of pale, one eye on her, the opposite roving to the man up on stage.

Honestly, she didn't know. Alastor would never hurt her, but for the life of her Mimzy couldn't figure out what he wanted. She lost business that was sorely needed just for him to drink and pretend to be an audience of one. If this was payback for getting him involved with the sharks, then Mimzy figured he wouldn't be around for much longer. These doubts wouldn't get her last employee out the door though.

“I've known him for forever, Chuck. I'm gonna be fine.” Hated having to repeat that word, but it seemed to be enough to ease the wary bartender out the door along with his payment. As the door closed, she was left alone with him. Not sure if that's what he wanted or if she too ought to remove herself from the equation, Mimzy took the safe route of heading to the stairs leading to her apartment.

“Turning in early? That's not like you at all!” the chiding rose alongside the melody coming from the piano keys.

Mimzy knew she could ignore his invitation, dim the lights, point out that the bar was all his and he just had to lock the front door on his way out. Instead, she had venom stored behind her teeth.

“I'll let you do what you like and go without the mockery, thank you” stated curtly. “That's cold, downright frigid in fact. Sure you're not the one who's changed over the years?”. He could have hit her with a hammer for all the bluntness of his words. Mimzy frowned, right arm crossed over left. Idle fingers plucked at the end of her glove.

“I came all this way to see you. Even let you finish your songs” he stated lightly, simply pleading his case. She outright scowled. Could tell it was a dig meant at her interrupting him last time Hands went to her hips after a haughty flip of her hair“You weren't 'singing' at the time. You were about to fight the King of Hell!”

“Ha!” the bark of laughter was followed with a tilt of his head. Shockingly her heart skipped a beat at his wicked smile, “We both know I could beat him seven ways to Sunday.”

“Sure about that? He's about as old as Heaven, if not the big G himself” In spite of herself, Mimzy left the banister to the stairs, coming closer. Magenta-hued eyes followed the fluid motion of his fingers along the keys of the piano. Took him seconds to come up with a melody, a siren song that drew her right to jagged rocks. A subtle nudge of her elbow to his side, wanting onto the piano bench too.

Mimzy knew she couldn't play, only wanted to be near him, but he was free to nudge her off or not budge at all. She was allowed. Her gaze flicked to every movement of his hands, melody washing over her and somehow reminding Mimzy she hadn't had one drink so far tonight. Gloved fingers deftly picked up an unattended whiskey glass, conjuring up a bottle and ice bucket to take it's place on the crowded side table. The first sip proved it was strong, but when she reached over to ice tong to mellow it out, a brush of his hands.

“Do you mind? Get your own glass if you're going to do that.” She gave him a scowl in response, but put down the tongs, banished the ice bucket as well, then took another sip out the glass. A chuckle mixed with static answered her soured expression. “Much too strong for you, I take it” Mimzy defiantly took another gulp, before setting the now empty glass down.

“How can you drink that?” she asked. Despite her complaining, Mimzy poured more of his favorite, this time holding the glass for him. A dip of his head to take a swallow in between playing. “I don't know why I'm bothered asking” Mimzy amended, “I've seen the things you eat. Strong liquor is hardly the worst thing.”

The flapper caught a wandering crimson gaze, a smug look as focus redoubled to some made-up symphony.

“What?” she asked, after easing the glass from her lips, a peek of a pink tongue-tip, gathering up a stray drop of whiskey.

“Nothing” the rise and fall of his voice a near song, taunting her. He had something to say, but was playing coy. Maddening, this man.

- -

Between the two of them, the whiskey bottle never stood a chance. Long after the glass was empty, he kept playing, having to pause at one point since Mimzy kept nodding off. A quick adjustment of his right arm, instinctively the blonde flapper curled to his side. God knows if he let her slip off the piano bench and to the floor to crack her head on, he'd never hear the end of it.

She hummed a few repeating bars, but for the most part let him play uninterrupted. At last, he eased the cover over piano keys. The movement stirred her, easing away from his side. A sway of her form, but even with her balance warring against gravity she picked up the empty bottle and their shared glass. It was amusing to watch her navigate on autopilot from stage to dance floor and to bar.

Methodical cleaning and disposal of the bottle before she moved to shut off the lights for real.

His presence wasn't needed here. Habit and the haze of alcohol put him out of her mind, a glaring blind spot. He could leave and wouldn't be missed.

#Ficlet #Writing

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fireemblems24 · 3 years

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Ao3 Ship Thoughts

To sate my desire to read Three Houses fan fiction and jump in on the shipping comments that have upticked recently, I decided to see what ships were the most popular on Ao3.

Some of it's exactly what I expected, and one in particular is just . . . what, why?

Ao3 is probably the closest you'll get to truly determining which ships are the most popular, or at least have the highest number of passionate fans. So I was curious to see who the top ships were. Here's the ones listed, in order:

Sylvain/Felix

Dimitri/Byleth

Edelgard/Byleth

Ferdinand/Hubert

Claude/Byleth

Dimitri/Felix

Dimitri/Claude

Felix/Annette

Caspar/Linhardt

Hilda/Marrianne

If I exclude the Byleth ships, Dimitri/Dedue, Byleth/Seteth, and Ingrid/Sylvain take up the three missing spots.

Byleth's Ships

I'm shocked. Really, truly shocked that Byleth/Lord is popular. Never wouldn't guessed. I am, of course, being sarcastic. If someone asked me to list who I think would show up in the top 10 most popular ships, the first three I'd list would be Byleth/Lord.

What I find more interesting is that Byleth/Seteth is the fourth option for Byleth. AO3 writers, I officially bow to your taste. It pleases me quite a bit that, if you're not going with one of the main lords, you all want Seteth. This I can agree with.

As for the Byleth/Lord ships, I feel kind of mixed on them. Every lord interacts with characters who have more depth than Byleth, but I still get the appeal. I'm going to deep dive into all of the lords relationships with Byleth later, but here's a quick summary.

Edelgard/Byleth is shoved down your throat so hard it's nearly impossible to ship Edelgard with someone else and even shortchanges her potential to have deep, non-romantic relationships because Edelgard puts Byleth on a pedestal that no one else can reach by her own dialogue.

Byleth's character arc works well alongside Dimitri's. While the relationship is pushed and fanservice-y scenes exist, the game leaves enough breathing room to see Byleth as a mentor/therapist/teacher figure, and Dimitri has no shortage of deep, meaningful relationships with others should you not want to do the whole self-insert thing. It's a good balance.

Claude and Byleth are the opposite of Edelgard and Byleth. They read almost more like friends than lovers. It's a breath of fresh air, honestly. Claude/Byleth seems like the healthiest possible romance for Byleth/lord because the lord in question here doesn't seem as dependent. That said, it lacks lacks romance and shipping fuel. I may complain about fanservice, but the Byleth/Claude dynamic does show why scenes of holding hands in the rain and teasing about badly drawn images might actually come in handy.

Edelgard's Ships

I'm not surprised, at all, that Edelgard has no popular ships outside of Byleth. Dialogue consistently shortchanges Edelgard's relationships with others by having her verbally, repeatedly put Byleth into a special "other" that no one else can reach for her.

Though, I guess I'm a bit surprised at the extreme lack of Edelgard/Hubert. I feel these two have a lot of shipping fuel and their supports left things unresolved. I've come across the sentiment in fandom many times that ship where things are tied off nicely with a bow leave less to explore and aren't as interesting, so I am bummed out no one seems interested in fleshing out Hubert/Edelgard more.

The outlook for Edelgard fanfic and me seems pretty limited. I don't like Edelgard/Byleth for various reasons beyond this scope of this post. I was kind of hoping there were some Edelgard/Hubert or Edelgard/Dorothea character study stuff that could help me get past how much Byleth gets in the way of Edelgard's character growth, but it seems fanfic writers only want to write about her and Byleth, which is a bummer.

On that note, I'm also surprised but also glad that Dimitri/Edelgard isn't a big thing. I thought it might be because tragedy of childhood friends turned enemies by events out of their control is popular. These two seem wildly incompatible though, so I'm glad people seem to agree.

Claude's Ships

Ok. Claude/Byleth. Expected. I'm feel positively towards the ship since they seem mostly good for each other even if it's not getting my heart all fluttering.

I'm surprised there's no Claude/Petra or Claude/Hilda. Those two are my personal favorites for him. I would've given Claude/Petra the edge given how they can uniquely relate to each other, but Hilda's scene in CF really gave Petra a run for her money. Even more so that Petra and Claude have obligations to two different nations and Hilda has no such complication.

But whattttt???? Claude/Dimitri? It's in the top 10?? More people ship Dimitri with Claude than Dedue?? I thought lord/lord might be popular, but I honestly thought Dimitri/Edelgard would take it, not Claude/Dimitri. They never really talk. So I'm a bit confused about this one. Though, intrigued by the idea.

Can I take a wild guess this partly stems from Claude having no real other viable M/M ships outside of M!Byleth and fics that plays up the chapter I'm about to play in AM (Dimitri saving Claude) or "what ifs" VW routes where Dimitri doesn't . . . you know.

I am really curious about this dynamic though. Because I like Claude - a lot. He's a character I want to get attached to. From experience, the fastest way for me to like a character is to give them a significant relationship I enjoy with a character I already love and the new character gets absorbed by proxy. So, fans, please, tell me more about this Dimitri/Claude. I am curious.

Dimitri's Ships

I am as unsurprised by Dimitri's being one of the biggest repeat offenders on here as I am by Edelgard being Byleth or bust. If Edelgard is written to fanservice the player by making the self-insert her one and only, Dimitri is fanservicing the player by being a shipping magnet. The writers knew what they were doing and who they were trying to appeal to with these two characters.

Dimitri/Byleth is a given. The game plays up the romance angle, but it's not at the expense of Dimitri's other relationships.

What I'm more interested in, though, is Felix/Dimitri. Between angsty CF stories, post-AM slow-burns, or fleshing out missing scenes from their shared childhood, there's just a lot to work with and a rich context to use their relationship - spun romantically - to explore each character. Felix and Dimitri's relationship is layered, complicated, heart breaking, and potentially healing. The fact they're two incredibly attractive guys doesn't hurt its popularity either, I'm sure. I'm not surprised it ranked that highly.

Claude/Dimitri surprises me. If two lords were going to get on this list together, I would've put bets on Edelgard/Dimitri. Since Claude and Dimitri's relationship is fairly unexplored, I'm really interested to see more about what exactly this is about. Don't get me wrong. I figured people would pair two main characters who are that good looking together, I just didn't think it would rank that high.

I am, slightly sad, that Dimitri/Dedue isn't a bit higher, but happy it seems to have some steam. I get it though. Dedue's not as flashy as some of the others on the shipping list and their relationship is so full of fluff by their A support it lacks the angst Felix/Dimitri and Dimitri/Byleth can draw out nor is as much of a play around with "what ifs" as Claude/Dimitri is.

Non-Lords/Main Characters Ships:

This list, more than anything else, shows AO3's penchant for writing M/M and F/F works for better or worse. Whether this phenomena stems from lack of representation, fetishizing by the fanbase, deeply ingrained gender roles making fictional M/F ships either less appealing to many fanfic writers, or M/F romances often getting assumed leading to less substantial writing compared to friendships - I don't know. Probably all of it.

There are a few surprises here for me. Felix/Sylvain is that popular? I figured they'd make the top 10, but #1 is surprising. Though, looking through the first page of the tag, it's true Felix/Sylvain have fics just for them, but it also seems like a common pairing in Dimitri/Byleth and Dimitri/Claude fics. It's the same story with Caspar/Linhardt, who I honestly didn't expect to see. They had a fair number of their own fics, but it seems many CF fics put them together rather than focus solely on them. Felix/Annette also balances being the main focus and an adjunct pairing. Marianne/Hilda seemed to have less fics where they took center stage and more they were one of many ships listed.

Ferdinand/Hubert having a lot of fics isn't surprising. I don't really care too much for it personally, but I can see the appeal of it.

I'm surprised Catherin/Shamir is nowhere in sight. Likewise, Rhea is absolutely nowhere. Kind of sad by the lack of adult characters in general. Especially Rhea. I think it's a pretty big sign of how the writing's treated her that such an important character is totally absent in this list.

Not surprised at all to see Felix also get so many ships. He, like Dimitri, seems designed on purpose to ship with many characters. I do really wish Dorothea and Seteth would get more attention though.

What do you guys think? Anything that surprised you? How do you feel about any of these ships and there popularity or lack thereof? Are there characters/pairings you wish got more attention? Any popular ships you despise (spill that tea)?

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fe16 #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von reigen #tagged them because I want to get people who ship Claude and Dimitri to see this and talk to me about that

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phdmama · 2 years

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Self-Promotion Saturday

except it’s Monday because I got distracted

Proprosals & Weddings

DRARRY

I Think I Want to Marry You (T, 6247 Words, Proposal)

5 times Harry Potter asks Draco Malfoy to marry him and Draco doesn't answer. And then the one time he does.

all of me (loves all of you) (G, 2844 Words, Proposal)

“What did you say?” Draco finally finds his voice and sees Potter shrug one shoulder.

“You heard me.”

“I heard you,” Draco concedes, “but I’m not sure I understood you, Potter, because I do believe you just suggested that we... get married.”

“I did,” Potter replies, and runs a hand through his hair, not meeting Draco’s eyes. “Yeah, I did say that. Suggest that.”

Completely baffled, Draco sets his coffee down and swings all the way around so that he’s straddling the chair and stares at Potter. “Are you quite well?”

this could be real (T, 2911 Words, Accidentally Married)

“The only thing that might make this worse,” Harry hears Draco mutter, “Is piranhas. Are there fresh-water swamp piranhas, Potter? Because that would just be the fucking cherry on the shit sundae that has been this entire mission.”

[Please note: this is a vignette that leaves room for more story. Please do not continue or finish it for me! Thank you for your understanding!]

Second Chance for a First Kiss (T, 4767 Words, Accidentally Married)

What happens in Vegas... can change everything.

LARRY

no heart for me like yours (no love for you like mine) (E, 46562 Words)

When Harry Styles, wedding dress designer to the stars (sort of) and Louis Tomlinson, wedding planner and relationship expert (kind of) meet on the occasion of their sisters' engagement, sparks fly. But not the good kind. Louis thinks Harry is a dick and Harry thinks Louis is an asshole.

That doesn't last long.

The road to true love isn't always smooth or uncomplicated. Can two stubborn men find their way?

[Note: while this isn’t a proposal or wedding fic for H&L, it’s a very wedding-centered fic and I think it fits! I also have to say that this is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, so if you read Larry, I’d love it if you’d give it a chance!]

Dance Me (to the End of Love) (E, 19306 Words, Proposal)

You would think that it's a simple process - you meet, you fall in love, you get married. But when you add one lawyer and one overly-competitive high school teacher to that equation, it's no longer a straight line from beginning to end. Or the story of how a simple proposal becomes a competition where no one loses in the end.

For Better and For Worse (M, 12681 Words, Proposal/Wedding but also TRAUMA!)

Written for the HL Summer Exchange - based on the prompt: "Harry and Louis have been together for 5 years and they've been getting questions when they would be getting married and start a family. Bur Harry doesnt have the time. They were arguing one morning when Harry had enough and left for work. He's a doctor and works at the a&e there is a call that there has been a bad car crash and that there is more than one patient coming in. Harry does his job good and works on the first patient and everything goes great until his next patient is Louis."

[Note: this is one of my very first fics! I did take some liberties with the plot but be aware, there is a major medical crisis in this one.]

#self promotion saturday #but on a Monday this time #proposals and weddings #my writing #my fic #fic rec of my own fic

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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I can't imagine my life without you

Day 13, Story #1 is by @cheesyficwriter

Title: I can’t imagine my life without you

Author: cheesyficwriter

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Prompt: Song fic (lyric prompt), “Imagine” by Ben Platt

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of postpartum depression

I can’t imagine my life without you

It’s a day like no other, leaving Hermione wishing it could be over.

The transition back to work at the Ministry full-time after giving birth to little Rosie presents more challenges than anticipated. Each day, she chips a fraction away at her massive to-do list, endless amounts of paperwork and research for upcoming trials, leaving her only mildly satisfied with what she’s accomplished.

In reality, Hermione is aware that it’s in her nature to obsess over all aspects of her work that could go wrong. She always prides herself on her professionalism and now struggles with maintaining the work-life balance necessary for a new mum.

Most days, she arrives at the Ministry too tired to think straight. The hours are long, and as someone running on frequent nights with minimal sleep, it’s difficult for Hermione to be as productive as she used to be in the department.

Rosie is a fussy baby, and the hours not spent at work are spent fighting for ways to keep her calm — holding her, rocking, changing her nappy, feeding, entertaining. It’s unnatural for Hermione to feel like she has no clue what she’s doing, and that realization is frightening for a first-time parent.

Ron is a doting father, who seems to be having a much simpler time adjusting to the new addition to the family. He approaches parenting with natural ease. As soon as Ron picks Rosie up, she stops crying. If Ron walks into the room, a smile lights up their daughter’s face. He brings joy into her world, leaving Hermione with an overwhelming feeling of uncertainty if she is cut out for her new role as a mother.

Although Hermione tries to throw herself back into work to escape her struggles in her home life, the exhaustion takes a toll on her, resulting in far more emotional outbursts than deemed appropriate at work.

It isn’t easy to remain patient when challenges seem insurmountable, goals unattainable, and negative thoughts creep in to seep the joy out of her day.

As Hermione walks through the floo network to head home for the evening, she mentally prepares herself for the madness that she is certain she will walk into, if every other evening that same week is any indication.

For the first time in weeks, Hermione doesn’t arrive home to a crying baby. In fact, the stunning silence brings a wave of panic, prompting Hermione to withdraw her wand and call out,

“Ron?“

Soft, melodic music floats through the room, and Hermione begins walking towards the source as she listens for the lyrics.

Your eyes give life a new meaning

It’s like I found the North Lights

I never knew what I needed

Until I felt your hand holding mine

The sight Hermione uncovers has her at a standstill in the doorway of the kitchen.

There is a self-stirring saucepan on the stove and several knives chopping potatoes. The sink overflows with bubbles, piles of dirty dishes sticking out from underneath the suds.

Ron is there in the center of the room, cradling Rosie in his arms. He has a flannel thrown over his shoulder and a dummy in his hand as he bounces their cooing daughter.

A flat disc spirals on the gramophone in the corner of the room, the sound coming from it reverberating off the walls.

Yeah, you say I’m your hero

But you are the one that saved me

If I ever lost you

I’d fall to my knees

Hermione leans against the door frame, her heart swelling with great love for her little family. She watches as Ron twirls around the room with a squealing Rose, and he’s dancing with a rhythm that she didn’t know he possessed.

Covering her mouth with one hand, Hermione stifles a giggle, thinking back to a younger Ron and his clunky two left feet when they danced together at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. He was so nervous then — they both were — and she marvels at how far they’ve come.

Dancing is about letting go and being free. When nothing else works — as Hermione suspects is the case with Rosie, who has quite the set of lungs on her — turning on music seems to do the trick.

I can’t imagine my life without you

I can’t imagine one night without you

Seeing her family in the kitchen does wonders to lift Hermione’s mood, and it’s as if all of the stress and negativity just melt away. All she can see is her husband and daughter, and Hermione becomes conscious of the heart beating inside her chest in time with the steady rhythm of the music.

She’s torn between laughing, and crying, and bouncing along, and crying some more. Sometimes the best surprises can change the entire tone of a single day from the simplest of tasks.

In the Granger-Weasley household, dancing is their reset button.

If something happened, don’t know what I’d do

I can’t imagine, I can’t imagine my life without you

Ron has his back towards Hermione, slowly rocking Rosie from side to side with one hand while flourishing his wand towards the plates to start setting the supper table for three.

“What d'ya say, Rosie?” Ron murmurs before plopping a kiss on his daughter’s cheek. “Shall we tell your mum to stop gawking at us and come join us?”

Your eyes give life a new meaning

It’s like I found the North Lights

Oh, I never knew what I needed

Until I felt your hand holding mine

Hermione gasps as Ron pivots around, meeting her gaze with a lazy grin and a wink.

Rosie squirms in Ron’s arms, and she’s reaching towards her mother with glee.

With a shaky breath, Hermione walks forward to take hold of her daughter, who rests her little head on Hermione’s shoulder.

“She’s missed her mummy today,” Ron comments as he leans over Rose’s head of ginger hair to press a soft kiss to Hermione’s temple.

“Mmm.” Hermione’s eyelids droop to a close. “Is she the only one?“

“Not a chance, Granger.” Ron brushes a hand down her cheek, making her eyelids flutter open. He’s studying her like he has a window into her soul, and it’s as if all of the emotions she’s felt throughout the day are now on full display for him to see.

Ron always does have the impeccable ability to get her, particularly when she’s stressed beyond belief.

“Bad day, love?"

"Better now,” Hermione replies, burying her nose into the small patch of curls on Rose’s head, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh strawberries and warm milk. A smell that is so wonderfully baby.

Her baby.

Yeah, you say I’m your hero

But you are the one that saved me

If I ever lost you

I’d fall to my knees

When Hermione first arrived back at their cottage for the evening, all she wanted to do was fall underneath the covers and wallow. It could’ve been easy for her to fall into a looping pattern of self-pity.

Seeing her family provides a sense of calm in the natural ebb and flow of life. However big or small, bad days are only temporary.

Now, standing with the two most important people in her life, she’s filled with a sense of gratitude for their constant presence. Thanks to them, she knows what it means to be happy and to see the beauty in tough moments.

I can’t imagine my life without you

I can’t imagine one night without you

If something happened, don’t know what I’d do

I can’t imagine, I can’t imagine my life without you

“It’s okay, love.” Ron cradles her cheek with one hand, a gesture that he knows always calms her. “It’s okay to let it all go.”

He rests his forehead to hers, and they slowly start to sway together along to the gentle rhythm of the song playing in the background. Rose squeals from the space between her parents’ bodies, reminding them of her presence. Both Ron and Hermione chuckle, planting matching kisses on both sides of their daughter’s cheeks.

A wide grin spreads across Hermione’s face, and a familiar set of words filter into her thoughts: Happiness can be found in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light. Fond memories flashing through her mind of Professor Dumbledore — long white beard, spectacles, and all.

It’s easy to lose sight of what’s most important when drowning in negativity. Dancing provides an opportunity for her to slow her thoughts down and root herself in the present.

Her family is the source of light in her darkest times.

I can’t imagine my life without you

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #tw: mentions of postpartum depression #romione #ron weasley x hermione granger #hermione granger x ron weasley

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hyunjilicious · 4 years

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what is and what should never be [bucky barnes]

A/n: ok, so. Im really fucking insecure about this. I literally poured my heart into this fic. I'm genuinely unhappy with the beginning, but I promise you, it gets better!! I don't have it in me to rewrite it for the 4th time. I really hope you'll still like it though. If you ask me, this is the best fic idea I even had. Please, please, if you enjoyed it, let me know!!!

Summary: It was you and Bucky. An unlikely couple that shared equally disturbed pasts. When you get a day off, your paradise turns into hell as Bucky's nightmares return, leaving you alone to deal with The Winter Soldier. (FLUFF, SMUT, ANGST) 12k

Warnings: 2 smut scenes - they're graphic but not extreme, fluff, angst, violence, mentions of death and suicide, blood, a fight scene - also quite graphic but it was written to serve the angst. I don't want to spoil the ending, but if you really connect with the characters, you will not hate me!!

This day had been long awaited. After months of back to back missions and endless efforts to climb up the greasy pole of US social standards, words failed to describe how ecstatic you were to know, that for the next 24 hours, your whole schedule would fully be in your hands.

You had the freedom to do just about anything you wanted, and the simple fact that the rest of the avengers left to deal with some paperwork excited you to no end. You woke up when it was time for them to take off, and made a snarky remark about heading to the gym - something along the lines of having a productive day centered on self development.

Just about 20 minutes later, you and Bucky, now also alone in the Stark Tower, decided to start off your day on the right foot. He offered to make protein smoothies as you changed into something comfortable and fitting for a workout, but neither of you got their job done.

You had no idea how that happened, but before you knew it you were wearing your sports bra and still had your pajama pants on, moaning on the counter of Tony's kitchen as Bucky had lodged himself between your legs, hungrily exploring the heated skin of your neck, peppering you with bruise marks that represented his adoration for you. "You heal fast anyway" he shrugged, pulling you closer and digging his teeth into your flesh, sucking profusely and eliciting an erotic moan from your lips.

With every new hickey he left, another one would disappear, which in turn would make him even more frustrated, “The hell should I do? Tattoo hickeys on you!?” he groaned, moving up your neck. You caught his cheeks into your palms and kissed him back, smiling as he kept getting more and more aggravated.

It didn't come as a surprise when the blender went berserk, splattering fruit pulp, almond milk and protein powder all over the pristine walls of the room - both of you have long forgotten about it.

The way Bucky cleaned the mess was the epitome of not giving a shit, and you couldn't find it more endearing. He bitched and whined his way through the whole process, and tears formed at the corners of your eyes at the ridiculousness of the half assed job he just did.

You eventually reached the gym - of course, against all your pouting and begging to put off this session. "Doll, you're the only avenger who can't fight. A punk on the street could snap your purse and there would be nothing you can do"

Wrong, he was not. You couldn't fight - but at the same time that didn't mean you were defenceless. It was your immense power that for months on end made your teammates consider you a liability. The energy that surged through your veins had been too great for you to handle, and in fact, it still was, but now, thanks to the joined efforts of Tony and Bruce, there was a way for that power to be contained. Their solution came in the form of two massive shackles wrapped around the length of your forearms. They were made of dimeritium and kept all kinds of energy from leaving your body. But, even so, that energy was in full form, buzzing inside every fiber of your being. And so, while wearing them you couldn't attack anyone, but there wasn't a way for them to harm you either. That field of energy protected you from every kind of damage and wounds you had ever encountered, ranging from fist fights to automatic rifles to guided grenades.

"I'm the only one that doesn't need to know" you huffed and puffed, annoyed but still determined to get this first training session done with.

But that never happened. Halfway through your warm up rounds, your teasing side awoke and it took you about ten minutes to go from batting your eyelashes and flaunting your ass, to nonchalantly cupping his cock into your hand.

No one could blame Bucky for not even trying to stop you. Bless him, he did everything he could, but he was never able to resist you. And probably never will be.

By the time you were done at the gym, both your bodies were coated in lecherous layers of sweat, no of them being from actually working out. It was only a matter of time until you managed to break his self control and he had you sprawled on all fours in the middle of the boxing ring, moaning your soul out as he pounded your pussy.

The momentum made your whole frame rock back and forth, your hair falling around your face, "Holy fuck-"

The room vibrated with the vulgar slaps he afflicted on your bare ass. You arched your back and cried his name out loud, "Come on, Bucky- I- harder please-"

"How are you already so needy?" he chuckled, caging your waist between his strong arms and pulling you up until your back reached his chest. "I ate this pussy this morning before we got out of bed"

"You know I love your tongue-" you giggled out of breath as you tried to look at him over your shoulder. "But it doesn't compare to your cock"

"What does?" Bucky rhetorically questioned before picking up his pace. He kept slamming his hips into yours, fucking you at full force as with each thrust, his cock rammed against your walls hard enough to make you see stars.

"I'm really fucking close, Buck" you whined, feeling your knees start to refuse to maintain your weight any longer.

"Don't cum yet" he panted, "Wait for me"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" you cried out loud, liquid pleasure seeping out of you in the form of fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. "Please-" you whined, "I can't hold it anymore, I'm-"

"Not yet, baby" Bucky groaned, easily stopping you from wiggling around in his hold. His thrusts became sloppy and the orgasm got the best of him. He buried his face deep in your shoulder as his high forced guttural moans to rip from his throat.

As he filled you up with his cum, as much as you wanted to comment about him making you wait and then not even bothering to tell you you could cum, you couldn't. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and your chest heaved as the spiral of bliss seemed to go on and on, tons of ecstasy propagating in long painful waves across your body.

"Fuck-" Bucky panted as helped you up, "I could get used to days like this. We should retire"

"I'm not retiring-" you teasingly shook your head, "not until you find a way to give me a baby"

"I'd give you all the babies" he retorted, tugging your hand.

It caused you to lose your balance and stumble into his chest, "I love you"

"Love you" Bucky kissed the top of your head and spun you around. With his palms on your hips, he started guiding you towards the door, "Let's get you cleaned up"

And then, another wave of unproductivity followed. You showered, ordered pizza, whined about how there was still some smoothie left on the floor, and after you warned him about it, your face fell as Bucky stepped directly in the middle of the puddle of almond milk. He was fuming, the incident wiped any traces of happiness off his face. He mumbled something about that being the last pair of comfy socks he had left and something about Tony's devices being a constant pain in the ass.

He went on and on until you ambushed him with kisses up his neck and shoved your hands under his shirt. In an instant his bickering turned into soft giggles as he innocently relaxed under your touch. You eventually cleaned up the mess and tried to make yourself busy. Nothing worked, you weren't in the mood for anything and at the same time, even though you did absolutely nothing all day, you felt a wave of tiredness envelop you.

At about 4pm, and you Bucky had already been lazily laying in bed, a mess of tangled limbs under the fluffy duvet. Your conversation started from the tactical gear he swore would look better on you than on him and then wondered how you didn't know how to sow.

"I'll hit you" you threatened.

"I'm sorry" he laughed, holding onto your forearm as it was resting on his chest, "But you know how much I love it when you get angry at my misogynistic jokes"

"It's rude" you scoffed - you didn't mean his jokes, but the fact that when he grew up, women were not anywhere near where they are today.

"You know I don't mean it"

"I know you don't" you laughed, "Otherwise I'd have actually hit you"

"Don’t worry" Bucky said, "I'd hit myself if I was that stupid"

"Cute" you smiled, kissing his shoulder. Looking up at him, you promoted your chin against his chest, "Do you miss it? The 40s i mean"

He thought about it for a second. "Nah" there was a bit of nostalgia in his tone, but you believed him. "I've kinda made my peace with the fact that everyone from my old life is gone. I wouldn't want to go back now. I got you. I got all of you guys. I'm good now, really good"

"I'm glad" you beamed, feeling yourself warm up from the inside just thinking of the progress he made. After a few seconds, you spoke up again, "But what about the society? Like the day to day life? How do you like the 2010s?"

"I can't lie" Bucky laughed, "I liked Romania better. Much simpler."

"You lived in a dead beat apartment, hiding everyday" you scoffed, "How was that better?"

"I don't know… maybe it was the simple life. Apparently I'm all about that"

"You'd move back there?"

"If you came with me?" he questioned, looking down at you. There was genuine sincerity in his eyes and a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. "Wouldn’t even think twice"

"Maybe one day" you sighed with content. You snuggled back against his side, and closed your eyes. "We're not done avenging yet" you mumbled.

He didn't say anything to that. You didn't know whether he was getting lost in thoughts or if he was starting to drift off, but you would have been fine with either. When he spoke up again, you didn't expect the conversation to take this route.

"About Romania…" he sighed, "What made you come with Steve back in 2016?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean-" he muttered, rubbing his light stubble, "I know why Steve came-" Bucky chuckled, "And Sam's all up his ass, so there's that. But what about you?"

"I-"

"I'm aware of the rift I caused between you guys back then. So that's why I'm asking. What made you stand by Steve from the beginning?"

"I knew how much you meant to him. And I know how this is going to sound, but I felt sorry for you, Buck. I know what it's like to be alone, to have everyone turn against you. You deserved better"

"Love-?" he called softly, his voice nearly breaking. "What do you mean you know what it's like to have everyone turn against you?"

As you maintained the eye contact, you felt tears prickle, "I know it wasn't fair of me to keep my past a secret, but-"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to-" he said softly, his eyes warm. The pain was readable on his features, he hated how your whole demeanour changed.

"It's not that I don't want you to know, it's just that I hate talking about it. Gives me nightmares."

"Then we can just drop it" Bucky murmured, gathering you closer.

"I wish you could know without me telling you" you laughed, "You make everything better and easier. I should've told you, I know. It isn't fair to you. We've been together for almost two years but as far as you're concerned I didn't exist until I joined the avengers. I don't even know how much they know. We never talked about it"

"Love, listen to me. I'm here whenever you want to talk about it. You didn't do anything wrong. There are a lot of things about me that you don't know either. We're not those people anymore. No one can blame us for trying to escape out past"

"Yeah, you're right" you sighed.

Gathering your power, you pushed yourself up and settled beside him, with your legs crossed. You grabbed his hand pulling it into your lap, and intertwined your fingers with his as you spoke.

"Forget the official story, there's no truth to it anyway"

"I really didn't believe your mum was a criminal and that you were in a mental asylum" he joked.

"Good-" you smiled, his words lifting the atmosphere a bit. "Truth is, I don't know anything about my parents. But I have my assumptions. I grew up in that soviet facility so I never met them. I was told it was owned by a group of socialite scientists who wanted our help"

"Our? Who's we?"

"There were 7 of us"

"Did they have the same power as you?"

"Approximately. When we were younger, we used to comply and do everything we were told but as we grew up, things started to change. We weren't happy. Who could be? Considering we were being held in cells and studied like lab rats. We started to act differently and some might even say we tried to rebel, but that didn't work obviously, and that's when the restrictions began. For the last 3 years I spent there, there hadn't been a day where the temperature passed 0°C."

Your skin crawled as you recaled the endless nights you spent shivering your way to sleep. Everything around you was ice cold. But it wasn't for the sole purpose of torturing you. It was your only weakness. As the temperature dropped, so did the movement of the atoms that made up your body - eliminating your powers to the point where you were barely alive.

"One day, as spring came, we wanted to break out. We made a plan, and figured that as soon as we were out, we'd be fine. We were wrong. We were off about the weather and they got us before we even exited the perimeter. That's when the avengers heard about us."

By now, Bucky's eyes were wide with genuine curiosity, his mouth agape as he took in the information you provided. With every word you spoke his grip tightened around your fingers and his eyebrows gathered even further. There was discomfort and anger in his features, but he didn't interrupt you once.

"After that, the restrictions got tougher. We realised there was no way out. A lot of things came together in that small time frame. I realised what that place actually was days after we tried to escape. My friends - or that's what I thought they were, figured out another plan. Why fight when you can just eliminate the premise?"

Bucky moved his lips but no words came out. He cleaned his throat and sat up a bit, "What- what do you mean?"

"They tried to kill me" you said, plastering a sympathetic smile on your lips, hoping it would make it easier for him to hear.

"What the fuck. Why?"

"I think my dad used to be part of that team. And I think he made me the way I am. Now I don't know why he wasn't around anymore, but that team wasn't trying to get us to do anything. They were trying to make more of me. So if I was dead-"

"There would be no reason to keep the other kids…" Bucky finished the sentence for you.

You nodded.

"And what happened?"

You bowed your head trying to find a way to put your words together. Bucky didn't rush you, just reassuringly rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, waiting. When a tear from your cheek slipped and landed on the back of his hand, you looked up and took a deep breath. "I killed them. All of them."

He didn't say anything. Didn’t move a muscle, as he waited for you to continue.

"I didn't even want to do that, Buck" you sobbed, breaking down. "I killed over 20 people because I was afraid. I didn't even move. I was in the corner of my room the whole time, but everyone who approached me was fried to death. I don't even know how I did that. I was just scared"

"Oh, baby" Bucky cooed, pushing himself up to wrap his arms around you. You fell against his chest, crumbling in his embrace. "I hope you know that was not your fault, ok?" he asked, rubbing your back. "You were just a kid, alone and afraid. It breaks my fucking heart, those bastards. Please don't feel sorry for them"

"I feel sorry for the other kids"

"They tried to kill you, Y/n" Bucky countered, "If you hadn't killed them, I would've gone after them. All of them"

"They were desperate..."

"So were you!"

"I can't help but feel like a monster sometimes, you know? Like I'm reckless and out of control. There are times when I'm all happy and excited about what tomorrow would bring, and then i remember what I did, and I have a hard time fighting away the thoughts that try to tell me I don't deserve that"

"What you deserve is the fucking world ok?" Bucky said, tilting your chin so you could see just how serious he was. "This past couple of years, you saved hundreds of lives and I know for a fact you did it out of the pure kindness of your heart, not because you wanted to make up for anything in the past. You're a fucking angel. You're the embodiment of good, you hear me? I know you. You'll never understand how much respect I have for you, and how in awe I am with the kind of person you are. Please, don't ever think less of yourself. Ever, ok?"

Tears rolled down your cheeks as his words proved to be much more than you were able to hear at that moment. "Thanks, Buck. That's sweet of you to say-"

"It's not sweet of me to say, it's the fucking truth" he scoffed, but he somehow managed to make it sound loving. "You didn't even fucking try, but just being around you made me feel like a person again. You're amazing, Y/n. We're all lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you."

"You're gonna make me cry" you sniffled, curling yourself into a ball against his chest, "I know you were in a dark place when we met. I'm glad I managed to help you through it"

"You pulled me through it" he sighed, tightening his hold around you. "I went from wanting to die, to thinking that I didn't even deserve the easy way out. Look at me now."

"Buck, stop"

"I love you so fucking much" Bucky laughed.

His whole frame shook as he pulled you back down, safely holding you between his arms, "You're amazing" he added, kissing the top of your head, "Perfect"

"I said, stop" you chuckled, slapping his side, "I get it, you like me, can we-"

"I adore you" Bucky cut you off after grabbing the sides of your face between his palms. "And thanks for trusting me. I know it wasn't easy for you to talk about your past, so thank you. I'm always here for you. If there's anything ever, I got you, ok? Forever"

"I got you too" you added, kissing his cheek and then moving along his jawline, "No matter what happens, you'll always have me on your side. I'm all yours, Bucky"

"Yeah, you are, doll. All mine"

After that talk, how you managed to fall into a deep sleep will always remain a mystery. Nightmares didn't make their way into your mind, and you settled for a dreamless slumber, actually fully content for the first time in a long while.

But not everybody processed grief the same way. And if Bucky mentioned earlier that he was lucky to have you, as you were pulled out of your sleep, you realised that he wasn't as lucky as you were when it came to the mysteries that creep up on you when you least expect them.

"Wake up sunshine"

The sound reached your ears, but it wasn't Bucky's voice, so you just groaned in response and rolled over to the other side, completely pressing your face into the pillow.

"Buttercup, it's time to wake up"

The voice seemed uneasy, as if the person speaking was actually terrified. You opened your eyes wearily, and were met with the usual, complete darkness of your room.

"Come on, Y/n" they spoke again. You turned to see one of Tony's maintenance robots hovering above your body, one small screen lit up on its front. Blinking a few times to rid yourself of the sleep still lingering in your eyes, you managed to make out the faces of Tony and Steve, both staring at you.

"What's going on?" you mumbled.

"You've got incoming," Tony announced, and then shook his head at whatever someone next to him had said. The microphone wasn't performant enough for you to hear what the other person said, but it was not like you cared.

"Incoming what?" you questioned, still confused out of your mind.

He turned his attention back to you, "The asshole"

You frowned and Steve scoffed, "Y/n, it's Bucky. He's not well"

"Wh-" you mumbled, your head snapping to the side, only then realising his side of the bed was empty. You shuffled your arm around the sheets, still warm. "What- what happened?"

"He's gone rogue, Y/n" Steve announced, genuine worry and guilt audible in his voice, "You need to make sure he doesn't leave. You need to stop him"

Tony's workstation. You needed to get the shackles off your arms if you wanted to stand a chance, "Tony? How do I take these off?" you asked, pointing to your cuffs.

"Already taken care off" he nodded, "Get to my desk, it's unlocked. All you need to do is actually get there. If you can"

"If I can-?" you began asking, but a loud explosion sound cut you off, causing the bed to shake as a wind blew through your room. "What the fuck!?"

"He may have found the grenade launchers" Tony smiled bitterly.

"Y/n," Steve called for you, "Please, be careful. And call us. Me and Nat will take the jet but I don't know-"

"Don't worry" you shook your head, jumping off the bed and rushing to your closet. You chose the first clothes you saw laying before your eyes and put them on, ready to go look for Bucky. "I got this, I promise"

"Oh, and Y/n?" Tony said, making you turn to him at the last minute, "Try not to fry my tower"

You nodded and refrained from making any promises you didn't know you could keep.

As soon as you walked out the door, the sound of automatic rifles going off became deafening. Stepping over piles of broken glass, you made your way to the emergency staircase, heading to Tony's lab. You did so with maximal caution, knowing that if you were spotted, there would be no going back.

Descending the last remaining flight of stairs until his work station, a rush of adrenaline surged through you, knowing just how close you were. Silently rounding the corner, your eyes landed on Bucky's frame, easily holding one of the remaining SHIELD agents up by the neck.

He turned to look at you, eyes cold and empty. Not even rage. There was nothing there. No expression, no empathy, no feeling. It was as if he was dead. This wasn't him.

"Buck-" you panted, raising your hands up in the air, signaling surrender. You eyed Tony's desk, determined to stall him until you managed to free yourself of the cuffs.

You took a cautious step to the side, hands still up in the air. Bucky watched you as the man struggled against his hold, legs spasming uncontrollably as he kicked and squirmed, even though it was so clearly in vain.

"Don’t mind me-" you smiled, sweat flooding your pores as you slowly approached your destination. "I'll just-"

"You'll just what-?" Bucky groaned, flinging his victim with impeccable ease. The agent's body flew across the room, crushing into the only device that had the power to help you get through this. As the work station crumpled under his weight, so did your hopes of getting out of this.

"Bucky, hey-" you mumbled, afraid of pissing him off, "I-"

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he frowned, starting to march towards you. Your blood ran cold, knowing you didn't have what it took to keep up with him. You were never able to dodge anyone's blows, let alone his. When he reached you, his hand instantly reached around your neck, lifting you off the floor, "SHIELD?" he asked after taking a look at your attire. Although not carrying the emblem, it was probably the only explanation that made sense to him.

"Well, um-" you huffed, holding onto his wrist in hopes of not running out air, "No, not SHIELD"

"Then who are you?" he growled, tightening his hold on your windpipe.

"Fuck-" you gasped, kicking your legs, even through he didn't even flinch when you hit him. "You're not gonna believe this but, um-"

"Try me"

You looked into his eyes, hoping it would serve as some kind of a memento, that maybe he'd remember you. "You know me, Buck. It's Y/n, I'm- your girlfriend?"

Even saying it made you feel weird. This killing machine, apparently hell bent on wrecking havoc, was not the man you loved, and you cringed just imagining his reaction to hearing your words.

And it did turn out to be worse than expected, as he spun around, doing a complete 180° with your body before slamming you down on the floor. The wood cracked under your bones, knocking the wind out of you. The pain of the impact was excruciating, propagating along your body in waves of some physical agony you had never felt before. The sound of your bones cracking made you sick to your stomach. Your ears caught the sound of your arteries being torn as your organs collapsed.

And if you felt every inch of your body being shattered and destroyed, it was God's way of making you pay for your parent's mistakes, as when your wounds healed mere seconds later, the pain did not go away. Your nerve receptors still registered damage to the tissues, and no matter whether you were actually as good as new, your brain couldn't process that.

What consumed you the most was the fact that as you struggled to stand up, the pain of broken limbs lingered on. But you fought through it, gathered yourself and stood up, facing him again.

You winced with every muscle contraction, but eventually your eyes met his. He showed curiosity, along with something else. Something else which you wished wasn't determination to finish you.

"Can we-" you whimpered, extending a hand, "Can we talk?"

"Talk!?" Bucky raged, grabbing your wrist and twisting your arm to the point where he spun you around, your back pressing against his chest. "Not here to talk" he growled into your ear.

The hairs on your body stood as you heard his voice. Even though it was technically the same voice you loved more than anything in the world, it made you now shiver with a fear you've never experienced before.

You didn't get a chance to sink too deep in your thoughts before Bucky raised your arm, dislocating your shoulder and busting your humerus into pieces. The pain cut your legs at the knees and you screamed in agony, falling to the floor at his feet.

"Stand up" he commanded, slamming his foot into your side. The momentum made your body roll away, until you settled back on the ground, face deep in the rubble. Your muscles pulled you to your feet with ease, but the pain coursing through you was immense, nowhere near close to what you thought bearable. You felt the skin being ripped from your body and when you looked down, your clothes were torn, soaked in blood, but your skin was intact. It was what you needed to keep going - to get inside your head the fact that you were fine, because at this point, the pain was one bruise away from making you faint.

"Bucky, please-" you cried.

"Stop calling me Bucky!" he yelled, starting to approach you again.

With every step he took, you slowly backed away. "Please, listen to me, just a second, please!"

He shook his head no, a demented smile on his lips as he closed in on you.

"Bucky-"

As a reply to your question, his fist flew up, slamming into your jaw, hard enough to throw you to the ground, "Why do you keep calling me-"

"What else do you want me to call you, huh?" you yelled at him, vision blurred under too many layers of tears. "Tell me, and I'll do it if it'll get you to listen to me."

"I don't want you to call me anything-" he cocked his head to the side, unstrapping a handgun from his thigh. He loaded it as you barely managed to crawl away, "You can take the pain. I respect that. Let's see how well you do with these lead bullets"

You saw them in slow motion, barely managing to duck your head behind the remains of what once was a heavy wooden bookshelf. The bullets missed your chest and face, but you saw them, felt them penetrate your skin, ripping through your muscles.

The sound of your tissues being pulled to shreds made you feel sick to your stomach. As the bullets left your body, your wounds closed back up, leaving you a crying mess on the floor. Your throat constricted due to the wave of shock that hit your body, and your lungs started hyperventilating. Lightheaded and gasping for air, you struggled to crawl away from him, tears marching down your face and ending up on the floor, nothing but diluting the droplets of blood that had fallen from your body mere minutes before. Your heart was in overdrive and your vision blurred as every fiber of your being threatened to let you down. "Please-" you screamed, your voice breaking as you raised your hand for him, "Let's talk, please. That's all I want. Give me a minute"

But he didn't. He didn't even consider it. Instead, the force that controlled the body of the only man that ever managed to make you feel safe, tortured, destroyed and consumed your body for what felt like the better part of an eternity.

You had been thrown through walls, shattered windows, had glass shards lodged into your body from all angles. He unloaded cannon after cannon on you, used up all the ammo he had on him, only growing more and more annoyed when you refused to give up.

There was no way to know how much time had passed. Now you were standing by the window, inches away from the spot where two nights ago, you and Bucky clicked your glasses, smiling at how far you both had come. He laughed, saying he wouldn't have made it without you. And then he kissed you, confessing that the thought that maybe you couldn't have made it without him either, was what kept him going.

And then there you were. 48 hours later, again, just the two of you. But now there weren't any champagne glasses between you, just his metal arm, wrapped around your neck, this time, as he said, for the last time.

"I don't get it-" he scowled, teeth gritted and frustration in his voice, "Why don't you fight me?"

"I can't fight you" you whimpered as your tears poured down against his cold hand, "And even if I could, I wouldn't."

"WHY?" Bucky screamed, and for a second, you thought you saw a crack there, a glister of emotion hidden deep in his otherwise beautiful eyes.

"Because I love you" you cried.

But there was none. He rolled his eyes and pushed you back, your body slamming into the window. You should've thought faster, been more witty and considerate, but terror washed over you and in the heat of the moment, you grabbed onto him for dear life, pulling him down with you, plummeting to the ground from what looked like the 70th floor of the Stark Tower.

If until now you had been afraid of what you'd have to endure, it was now that you met true terror. You'd survive the fall, but he wouldn't.

Even in the air, approaching the ground at a dangerous speed, he kept fighting you. Even in this state, you admired his determination - he had a job and wanted to get it done - even if that job was killing you. A man of his word.

By now, the pain was unnoticeable. If you wanted to keep him alive you had to act fast. Clinging to his body despite his vicious protests and ruthless blows, you used your momentum to turn the two of you around. And you did so at the last second, as before you knew it, your bodies crashed into the boulevard below, sinking down into the asphalt as it crumpled under your weight.

The impact cut your breath away and there was a gnawing feeling all over your body, as if you had blades under your skin, pulling your body apart fiber by fiber. But you snapped out of it.

"Bucky!" you yelled, slapping his cheek.

He had fallen completely on top of you, his head pressed against your chest. He didn't move and the continuous buzz in your ears made it physically impossible for you to tell whether he was breathing for not.

"Bucky, please-" you cried, trying to move him so you could see his face.

Nothing.

"No, no, no!!" you screamed, "You can't die, baby, please! Not like this, love. Please come back to me, Buck, I'm begging you!!"

You remained there and wailed, with him glued to your chest. Your arms had wrapped around his motionless frame, keeping him as close as you could. Nothing could have gotten you to stop. Tens of people gathered around the crater your fall created around your bodies, police showed up, cameras were pointed at your faces, but you didn't care. If he died, so would you.

"You're all I have, baby-" you muttered, voice hoarse and dry from all the wailing and crying, "Please, you can't leave me. This can't be the end of us. Please, I don't know what to do, Bucky, please!"

You were soaked. In blood, and you didn't even know whether it was his or yours. God, how you hoped it all belonged to you, how the pool of blood you laid in was all yours. Tears soaked your face, pouring down your temples as your whole frame shook with your sobs, that was the true agony. You'd rather spend the rest of your days fighting for your life if it meant he got to see the sun again. You wished he'd hate you, rather than not feel anything at all ever again.

"Please-" you said again but this time your voice didn't even reach your own ears, you didn't hold that power anymore, "Please, you need to come back! You deserve so much better than this. You're the best man I have even known, you can't die like this, not today, Bucky. Not today!"

By now, the people around you had scattered. They knew your identities and for all the wrong reasons, feared you both. You were grateful for that now, you were alone with him again, as the sun began to set and a chilly New York night began to settle.

Still, you didn't move. You still had faith. Or you were just stubborn. There was no way you'd pull away until someone either pried him off of you against your will, or someone that you trusted showed up promising they'd help.

None of them came, and you remained there, cradling his frame to your chest begging whatever God was listening, to bring him back. You didn't know if one of them heard you, or if it was just blind luck or fate, but you only realised his metal arm was lodged under your body when he moved it.

"Buck!" you cried, cupping his cheeks in your bloodied palms as literal life cursed through your veins. "Oh god, you're ok, you're alive!! You came back to me!"

You managed to hug him close one more time, before he pushed himself off of you. In the process of standing up, his eyes met yours for the briefest second. Again, nothing.

He gathered himself to his feet, wordlessly bending down to grab your hair. He forced you up and you instantly obliged, following him back into the building.

Once inside, he knocked you through a glass door, your body once again absorbing his fury. The pain had dissipated into a dull ache, and this time, you stood up faster. "I can do this all day" you sighed, the lie slipping past your lips with such ease, as if the energy inside your core wasn't running dangerously low.

"What did you just say?" he questioned.

He seemed taken aback, "I said that I can do this all day"

"Who are you?" Bucky yelled, marching towards you, determined to get answers out of you through nothing else but brute force. He slammed you back onto the floor, only to straddle your thighs and pick you up by the collar of your shit. "Why won't you just fucking die!?"

Circling your fingers around his wrists, you searched for his eyes, "Wanna know what keeps me alive?"

"Are you stupid enough to tell me?"

"I might be" you shook your head, "but I'll still tell you"

"Why?"

"Because I know you won't kill me" you cried, "I know you know me. I know you're in there somewhere. The man I love. I know you don't have it in you to kill me"

"Try me" he laughed, drunk with the power you were so willing to give him.

"These-" you panted, raising your arms in the air to show him your cuffs, "These are what's been keeping me alive but I know you won't-"

But you never finished the sentence. He didn't even think twice before ripping them off your arms and throwing them onto the floor, along with all the other mess you two had made.

You never thought he'd actually spare you. So it wasn't a surprise when the first thing he did after freeing you, was reach for his knife with the sole purpose of driving it through your chest.

But you were faster. You framed his face into your palms, releasing the energy from your body and allowing it to flow through his. It felt weird, wrong and chaotic, and the power surge wiggled itself out of your control, until a blast between your bodies sent you both flying back across the room, falling down onto the floor.

And this time none of you stood up.

"I leave them alone for what, a day?" Tony sighed, walking out of his Iron Man suit.

"Holy shit!" Steve cried out, his knees betraying him as he tried to rush to you.

"No, wait!" Nat stopped him, "You can't wake them up until we get them somewhere safe. We need to make new cuffs for Y/n, and find a way to keep Bucky contained in case, you know… he's still not Bucky"

Steve was fuming with anger, nostrils flaring, "These are my friends you're talking about!" he exclaimed, pointing to your bodies on the floor, "Your friends too, Nat. You see them like this and the first thing you think about is restraining them!?"

"We need to make sure we're all safe" she sighed with sympathy, grabbing his hand for a comforting rub.

"You make sure you're safe-" Steve scoffed, "I'll make sure they're alive"

"Hey-" Nat stopped him, "If you touch her and startle her in any way, you die!"

Her words hurt him but he knew you never would. Steve felt his heart shutter just imaging what you must have gone through. He was ablaze with pure determination to prove Nat wrong, and to do right by you and Buck. "I carried her in my arms while she was passed out when we rescued her from that facility-" he fummed, pointing at you, "She never knew a man that didn't try to hurt her before. And when she woke up, she was afraid. Scared for her life. She cried in my arms and begged me to not let them take her again! She was never anywhere close to hurting me! She's good. So good. There's only good inside of her, I trust her to not hurt me more than I trust myself, ok? If I'm wrong, so be it. I die. I don't care. She deserves someone to look after her. If I had to chose, saving her would be the way I'd want to go"

His rant left Nat speechless. She just gave him a simple nod and stepped back.

Carefully, he picked you up and carried you upstairs, as Tony put his suit back on and carried Bucky.

Never in your life had you woken up this fast. Your eyes snapped open and you sprung to your feet. 3 pairs of anxious eyes watched you, all of them ready to jump into action in case the situation called for an intervention.

"What-" you gawked, scanning the room, "Where is Bucky? Is he- is-"

"He's fine, Y/n" Steve assured you. He stood up and slowly approached you, arms outstretched. Your first instinct was to go for it, but when you reached him, you placed both your hands in his, and looked up at him with teary eyes.

"Are you sure?" you whimpered, "Can I see him?"

Sympathy took over his features, but Tony jumped in, "Absolutely not"

"What-" you turned to him, "Why? Did I-?"

"You didn't do anything wrong" Steve hummed, engulfing you in a hug even though you remained stiff in your spot. He rubbed your back, eager to soothe your worried mind, but you were too out of it.

“Can I just go?” you whispered, pulling back just enough so that he could see how serious you were, “I need to see him, please”

“Are you mad at him?” Nat asked with caution and your face fell.

“No!” you gasped, stepping away from Steve’s embrace, “No, not even one bit. I know that was not him, I know it’s not his fault. But when Bucky wakes up-”

“If he wakes up-” Tony sneered, roaming around the room. He nursed a glass of whiskey, as a mixture of disgust and exhaustion was readable on his features.

“When he wakes up!” you spoke through gritted teeth. Determination coated your words and the hairs on your body stood as you refused to even think of the alternative. “He will wake up. And I have to be there”

“What if the Winter Soldier wakes up?” Nat asked.

“That didn’t stop me last time”

“Oh, no!” Tony butted in, stepping in between you and Nat, arms outstretched, “You know I’m not one to cry after money, but you and your pal left me with $37 million worth of damage. You two are one broken cup away from getting thrown into the streets”

The sum he mentioned made the skin on your back crawl. You didn’t even have $37 dollars to your name, but it made sense. Your body alone crashed through three TV’s, one gamma ray projector and if you thought about it, you remembered Bucky pulling apart one of the Iron Legion robots, and only the thought made you flinch.

“So-” Tony said, “You two? Never in the same room again!”

“Take these off then” you suggested, pointing at the cuff on your wrists.

“Ha” Tony exclaimed, “A big chunk of that money comes from you frying all my electronics up until the 12th floor. Absolutely not”

“Tony, I’m serious” you whined, “He will hate himself. I need to be there! I need to make sure he doesn’t take all the blame on his shoulders”

He frowned, and sighed. He wasn’t an unreasonable man, and you hoped that core deep inside his chest really made up for a heart. And… it did. None of them were happy about it, but they finally accepted. Nat and Tony would have never probably given up if it wasn’t for Steve - right now, like so many times before, he really did seem like your guardian angel.

They ended up monitoring the room, and Tony waited for your signal, one hand on his cigarette, the other on the Iron Man suit. He was all talk - if anything was to go down and you would actually be in danger again, he wouldn’t even think twice before tearing his towers into pieces if it meant he could get you out alive.

And so you left, thanked them in the form of a simple nod, and headed down the dark hallways.

Oh, how you hated this.

What consumed you now had nothing to do with the pain you had endured in the past 24 hours. Its source was not physical, yet your whole body ached. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders - and in some way, it was - Bucky was your whole world, and the fear of losing him breathed down your neck.

It had been about 20 minutes since you stopped in front of the door that led to the room he'd been confined in. When FRIDAY announced that Bucky woke up, you rushed over, only for a hazardous sense of anguish to stop you dead in your tracks. Judging by the way he sat in the corner of the room, his fingers aimlessly tracing every indentation in the handcuffs Tony had restrained him with, you had no problem telling which one of him woke up. He broke your heart. His room was equipped with 5 different cameras and 2 microphones. Completely unaware of them, he sat inches away from one, and your heart shattered, sinking 3 stories below when you heard him whimper.

It was soft and quiet. His whole frame shook as he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. He was hunched down, brown hair covering his perfect face, but still, his sadness brought you to tears.

You heard him again. He sniffled as he laid back against the wall. His eyes were bloodshot, lips almost white and dry as his chest raced up and down. His muscles clenched and his feet bounced against the metal floor, it was a sight you never wished you see ever again.

Softly, you raised a hand, and thought twice before finally knocking.

"Go away," Bucky called, voice all hoarse and dry as it broke halfway through.

You were able to see him on the small screen next to the door, but he had no idea who came to visit.

Out of instinct, you knocked again before typing in the password and ever so slowly walking inside.

Instantly, he looked up. He was surrounded by an air of darkness and despair, ever so obviously tormented to the peak of his capability.

He stared at you for a few seconds as his eyes watered, and then he gathered his lips into a straight line, shaking his head. "Please, go"

"Bucky, I-"

"Please" he cried, head falling forward as he toyed with the metal edges of his prosthetic arm. He shook his head, "Please, don't do this. Just, go"

You took a deep breath, only then entering the room far enough to actually be able to close the door behind you. Slowly turning back to him, your palms sweated as you had no idea what to say to him.

"Can you talk to me, Buck? Please?"

He chuckled, "About what?"

"About whatever it is you think you did wrong, I-"

As he heard your words, his hands instantly flew up to cover his face. He was, however, stopped, as the cuffs on his left wrist kept him from moving too much. While a new row of tears flooded his cheeks, his eyes met yours, "Look at me.. I need to be restrained while you're alone with me"

"Those cuffs would literally do nothing to stop you from escaping, and you know it"

"Maybe it's just a sense of reassurance"

"To who?" you scoffed.

"To them" Bucky responded, nodding his head towards one of the cameras. "I'm a monster" he added, wiggling his cuff restrained hand, "I'm a danger to everyone"

"Oh for fucks sake" you rolled your eyes, marching up to him. With absolutely no remorse, you grabbed his hand and harshly pulled apart the metal that had him restrained to the bed. Before he got a chance to say anything, you bent down, unclipped the microphone from the foot of the bed, threw it on the floor, and stepped on it, until it was nothing but a small pile of shattered plastic.

And you kept going, destroying the second microphone along with the 5 cameras on the walls as Bucky watched you with surprise. You finished by going for the door and locking it from the inside. "You think I'm afraid of you?" you asked softly, "For 6 hours you did your best to kill me and failed miserably. Look at me, I'm unscathed"

"Did you hear yourself?" he cringed, shaking his head, "I tried to kill you"

"Ok, I know I said that you did your best-" you said, mentally scolding yourself for the error in communication. "We both know that wasn't you. That wasn't you, Buck. It was Hydra. It was the winter soldier, not you. My Bucky would never-"

"Y/n-" he stopped you, "I know you don't see things the way I do-"

"But I see them the right way"

"Listen-" Bucky sighed, driving his hands through his hair. For the first time that night you actually saw his full face, his cheek and signature scowl, his blue eyes and the tilt of the corner of his mouth - your soul melted when you associated the picture with the words that came out of his mouth. "I can't blame you for being here. I can't. If the roles were reversed, I'd be doing the exact same thing. But, holy fuck-" he sighed, pausing to gather his thoughts. Bucky looked you up and down. His lips quivered and his head fell to the side as a sad smile appeared on his lips. "Remember this morning? How we talked about our hypothetical child?" he laughed and shook his head, "Even if I know we could never have a kid because we're both sterile, it was still the most beautiful thought that ever crossed my mind, Y/n''

"Mine too, Buck-"

"And what did I do?" he dismissed your empathy, "Two hours later I was unloading an AK-47 into your stomach, like the brainwashed maniac that I am!"

"Don’t say that!" you exclaimed, "Don't you dare think about things like this!"

"Why wouldn't I?" he threw his hands up in the air, "What does it matter whose fault it is? I get to live with the consequences."

"But-" you breathed out, "We can work through this. You did it before. You can't let something that hydra did dictate your life, Bucky. You deserve so much better. You deserve to be happy!"

"I tried to kill you!" he screamed, for the first time losing his calm and standing up to be at the same level as you.

"That was not you!"

"So what?" he huffed, "I was there, Y/n! I will never, NEVER get the feeling of crushing your bones out of my head! I felt your neck snap! I choked you with my arms! That is not something I can live with! I can't live a life by your side if every time I look at you I'm reminded of those horrible things I did to you!"

"Buck-" you cried, looking at him from behind too many layers of unshed tears, "Please, don't say that"

"I'm sorry" he responded in the same fashion, his pain coating every word he said. "When I close my eyes I see you laying in a puddle of blood. I can't stop hearing your screams of agony. Agony that no matter how you put it, was caused by my hands. That's not something we can live with, Y/n. You were not made for this. You really do fucking deserve someone that won't wake up one day and try to murder you in cold blood"

"And what do you deserve, Buck?" you quietly asked, searching for his eyes, "To live your life alone? Forever? If you had been with anyone else, this would have turned out so much worse. That cute barista three blocks down that always scribbles a heart on your coffee cup? She's cute, yeah. You deserve to be loved by someone, but if that someone was her, you wouldn't be drowning in guilt right now, Bucky, you'd be mourning her. Yes, you got troubles. Yes, you've got a past more fucked up than anyone else I have ever heard about. That's the kind of shit you can't change. But whatever you do from now on, is in your fucking hands and yours alone. Don't try to tell me you're not worthy of having someone, because that's the fattest load of crap I've ever heard. You're a good man! With a fucked up past! And a dark side that you need to fight! And you have me! I don't care you dropped Tony's piano on my legs, apparently I can take it! I'm here for you no matter what! You don't want to be with me anymore? Fine. But don't you dare push me away, thinking that a ruined future makes up for a ruined past"

"Who's to say I won't try it again?" he asked, "I don't know what triggered the transition. But what if once a week I end up trying to kill you-"

"Apparently you can't!" you laughed bitterly.

"Ok, so I can't" he nodded in approval, "Is that what you want? I should be your rock, your best friend, I should always be there for you. Do you want to have your whole world turned upside down whenever my brain decides to go berserk?"

"See, Buck" you sighed, "Of course I don't want that. I can't fucking stand here and tell you that I do. What kind of credibility would I have then? But you know what I want? You. You and whatever nazi shit that comes along. I want you. To help you. To have you with me. To see you everyday. If every Saturday at 10am you decide you want to kill me, you best believe I'm sacrificing my morning coffee just so we can kung fu around the living room"

He looked at you for a long second, the corners of his lips fighting a hard battle against the hint of a smile that started to show on his features. Eventually he caved and chuckled, shaking his head, "That was a bit funny"

"And fucking true," you cried, going for his hands and bringing them up to your chest. He winced, but you spoke up again, determined to not let his mind torture him.

"I love you, Bucky"

"How do you not hate me?" he choked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Can you seriously look at me and not get even the slightest instinct to run away?"

"Bucky..." you breathed out, cupping his cheek. "How could I run away when I've never seen you in more pain than right now?"

"You're an angel, you know that?"

"I've been called a lot of things" you giggled, "Angel isn't one of them, but if that's what you want, I'll take it"

"Come here" he whispered, wrapping his arms around your frame. He had you nuzzle against his chest, his hold keeping you tight and secure. His heart beat against your cheek and your eyes watered again. There wasn't one thing in the world you wouldn't do for that heart - to make sure it keeps beating, and that it keeps the man you love alive. And content, above all. All you wanted right now was for him to accept the things that happened. You wanted to take whatever weight he was carrying on his shoulders, and put it upon yourself. "I love you so much, Bucky" you cried against his chest as your hold tightened around him, "I hate to see you torn like this. I don't want anything to ever happen to you. It terrifies me. I love you with all that I am. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You deserve the world, baby"

"So do you" he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You felt his chest shake, a deep rumble echoed from the depths of his lungs. You looked up to see him fight back a sob, his eyes wide open, glossy and red, trained down on you, "I love you too much to do this, Y/n. I'm sorry, I don't think I can"

"No!" you gasped, pressing your face back against his shoulder, "Don't do that. You can't do that. No"

"We won't work, Y/n" Bucky said as he brought you even closer, "I can't look at you anymore. I can't look at you without dying inside. You don't want to live with me like that"

"Yes, I do!" you sobbed. "I'll work with anything you give me, I swear there is nothing more I want. Just you. Just you and me. Bucky, please don't do this"

He held you close for what felt like half a second, but rationally speaking, your legs were getting numb. You just stood there, clinging to his body, taking in his scent and listening to his breathing even out until he pushed you away. Oh, how you didn't want to let go. Ever. But you did, and choked back a sob as soon as you felt the cold air of the room brush against the part of your body that had been pressed to his.

"We should get some sleep, Y/n"

"Are you coming with me?" you whimpered, afraid of the answer he might give you.

Bucky shook his head, "I think I'll just sleep here tonight"

That broke you. The shock and terror cut your breath away. It felt impossible - the feeling of losing him. The amount of pain that surged through you. At that particular moment, you felt like cracking your chest open to grip your heart into your hand and pick apart the broken parts. But not even that felt good enough, you were fairly sure you'd be left with nothing. It felt like a slap across your cheek, like a cloth had been placed over your mouth and your legs cut at the knees. It felt like the end.

Optimistic by nature, not even you could deny the reason he wanted to sleep alone. It was clear as day.

"If-" you mumbled, tears coating your face at their own free will, voice shaking as you barely managed to articulate the words over the violent sobs that ripped their way out of your throat. "If I promise to not do anything to try and convince you to stay… can you promise me that in case you decide to leave, you'll come and tell me first?"

"Oh, doll" Bucky broke down all over again, throwing himself at you again. He collapsed on top of you, molding his body around yours. "I promise, angel"

You just nodded. That was all you could do. It took another few moments for you to gather yourself and stop wailing, but you did, and then, with nothing else other than a sad smile, you left.

Your feet carried you to your room, and you were ready to collapse on top of your bed. Eager to cuddle into his pillows. They smelled like that shower gel you got him and you hated it. You wanted his scent. Not even caring how ridiculous it sounded, you padded over to the chair in the corner of your bedroom, the one Bucky uses to discard all his worn clothes.

You wanted to find a shirt he wore, one that smelled exactly like you knew him, but before you reached the clothes pile, your attention was drawn to the window.

Steve was standing there, facing the busy streets outside, hands in his pocket and his head turned in your direction.

"I didn't see you, sorry" you gasped, as your eyes accommodated to the darkness.

"It's fine" he shook his head, "I just figured you'd turn on the lights, you know, like the normal people. Didn't think I'd scare you"

"Yeah, sorry" you sighed, plopping down on the edge of the bed. "I did even think about turning the lights on"

He didn't say anything, but you saw him nod. He knew your pain. He lost enough in his life, and seeing his best friend sink back into his darkness was surely not easy for him either.

"Is he ok?" Steve eventually asked.

You shook your head, "He's too good of a man to be ok"

"That is Bucky" he laughed, and you couldn't help but do the same. The irony.

Steve's curiosity was palpable in the room. Words could not describe the appreciation you had for him for respecting your boundaries and not pushing you in a moment like this. But he deserved to know.

You opened your mouth to explain to him what happened, but as your mind processed everything all over again, you broke down. "I think he's gonna leave-" you cried.

Steve was quick to gather you in his arms, engulfing you in a bear hug, helping you stand on your own two feet. "What do you mean?" he asked, concern tracing his tone.

"I understand him, I do. And I promised I won't try to get him to stay if he doesn't want to. But- but I should've done more, Steve. I should've shown him somehow how much I love him. But I'm afraid he'll leave, and I don't want to live-"

"Hey, hey, hey" Steve hurried to stop you, petting your head softly before urging you to look up at him. "Bucky loves you more than I ever thought possible, ok? There's no question about it. I'm sorry I'm doing this, but I think he'll postpone it anyway"

"What?"

"The man wants to marry you, ok?" Steve smiled, "He asked Tony if he had any work for him so he could raise money. Can you imagine how that went down? He was red like a tomato, but he didn't think twice. James Barnes used the computer to look for rings for you. The Bucky I know? Never would've done this. You brought to life a part of him that no one else has seen before. He loves you. With all that he is. And trust me when I tell you, he won't stand to be away from you. You're his whole world, Y/n. He's my best friend, trust me when I tell you this is something you'll work through. I'll help, we'll all help. You're not gonna lose him, Y/n. He's so beat up about all of this because he loves you this much. He's all yours. If he decides to leave, I need you to be strong because he will be back. I got him back 70 years later. You just need to trust him. Trust his heart, ok?"

"Oh my god" you cried, "I don't know what to say"

"Don’t say anything" he chuckled, "We've been through so much together. All of us. Even if we try, nothing pulls us apart, ok? How many times has Loki died, hm?"

"God, Steve!" you scoffed somewhat amused and pulled back just to hit him, "Did you seriously compare Bucky to Loki!?"

"It got you to smile, didn't it?" he laughed. "But I'm serious. You've both been through so much worse than this. You'll get through this one too. And in case you ever feel like you won't, I'm here, ok?"

"Ok…"

Funny as it all was, it worked. He calmed you down - to some extent. Gave you hope you didn't know existed. If it wasn't for Steve, you probably would have not been able to fall asleep. And even though dreams didn't visit you, and you never relaxed enough to actually get some rest, you just dozed off. All clothed and curled diagonally on the bed, you cuddled Bucky's pillow to your chest as your eyes slowly fell closed.

When you opened them again, it was still dark out. You had no idea what pulled you awake as you struggled to sit up on the bed, but then you heard Bucky's voice again, from the doorway.

"Y/n?"

“Buck?” you gasped, turning around. Only his silhouette was visible, head hung low and hands deep in his pockets. He was leaning against the doorway, silently awaiting your response.

Right then and there, you felt your world collapse. Steve’s monologue made you actually fucking believe things would be fine, but here he was, keeping his promise. In the buttcrack of night, he kept his word, bidding you a much feared farewell.

“Is-” you sobbed, jumping out of bed and rushing towards him. You almost knocked him off of his feet when you flung yourself at him, but he was quick to reciprocate, caging you between his arms. “Is this it? You’re leaving?”

He didn’t say anything which frankly made everything worse. You broke down even further, clinging to his shirt as if it was the only source of oxygen keeping you alive - it sure felt like it.

“Look at me” Bucky urged you, tilting your chin up, “Please?”

You slowly lifted your head, your eyes meeting his.

“I’m sorry, I will make it up to you” he whispered, a frown settling above his tired eyes, “You’ll see”

“What does that even mean?" you questioned, tired and sick of this ongoing conflict that should not even have been an issue to begin with. "You don't have to make up for anything"

"I know you see things like that" he cooed, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. He spoke softly, his breath fanning against your skin, somehow, even in this situation, managing to calm you down. "But you can understand me too, right?"

"I don't want to" you shrugged, "I don't care. Why does it matter if I understand you or not if you're gonna leave anyway?"

"I'm not leaving, doll"

"What!?" you beamed, pulling away from his hold and grabbing his face in your palms, "You're not- but you're-"

His whole frame softened, "I'm not here to say goodbye, Y/n. I'm not going anywhere"

"Oh god" you gasped.

"Come on, come here" Bucky chuckled softly, bringing you back into his hold, "I'm staying here. I'm sorry for everything I put you through. You're the most badass woman I know and I managed to break you"

"I love you, Buck"

"I love you more, Y/n" he sighed, "I'll make everything right, I promise"

"Oh, fuck" you breathed out relieved, "Just do whatever you want, I don't care. You're here. That's all that matters."

"And we also need to teach you to fight-" he added, "For real. And find a way for you to take those goddamn shackles off in case this happens again"

"Tony won't be too happy about it" you laughed.

"Fuck if I care-" Bucky said strenly, pointing at you, "Next time, you need to be able to stop me. And fast"

"Maybe it won't happen again"

"Maybe not" Bucky nodded, "But if it does, we need to be ready"

"Thank you" you said, "I know I didn't play this right. I know I literally dismissed everything that you must have gone through today. I'm sorry"

"You don't get to be sorry" Bucky stopped you, "Not after-"

"Then you don't get to, either!"

"Meh" he shrugged, "We'll see"

"Bucky!"

"I love you" he laughed, bending down to pick you up. He planted his hands on the back of your thighs, picking you up with ease and walking you over to the bed. You plopped back against the fluffy mattress with a huff, and giggled as he crawled his way on top of you. Instantly, his lips met yours. It was exhilarating, the kind that made your chest ache. You moaned against his lips as love transpired through his touch. It was overwhelming and the first happy tears of the day streamed down your temples as you arched yourself against him.

"I'm so weak for you, fuck" Bucky groaned, his right arm reaching around your back and pressing you against his chest. "You're everything" he added as he kissed his way along your neck, "I'm all yours forever, Y/n. I love you too much"

"I'm here, baby" you moaned, hiding your face into his shoulder, "You're mine, Bucky. All mine."

His lips didn't leave your body as he pushed himself up just enough to be able to reach the buckle of his jeans. The sound made your core ache, and your mouth watered.

There was no patience in his movements. He barely pulled his jeans down to his knees before ridding you of your pajama pants. He lodged himself between your thighs, his mouth instantly back on yours again.

"Come on" you panted, steading your arms against his strong back. Your legs found their way around his frame, ready to pull him closer.

When Bucky guided his hands between your bodies to align the tip of his cock with your opening, you whimpered in anticipation. Agonisingly slow, he trailed his tip along your folds before reaching your clit. With a blissful moan, he reached further up, tapping his cock against your bare cunt a couple of times before returning his attention back to you.

"I got you, baby" he hummed, pecking your lips. "You ready? Is this ok?"

With eagerness, you nodded and wiggled under his weight, your pussy aching for him. "Yes, yes"

When you felt his cock push past your folds, you moaned out loud, your voice cracking with the pure pleasure that took over your being.

He eased himself in, going all the way until he all but knocked the breath out of you, and he stopped. Bucky reached down to kiss you again, his cock motionless, balls deep inside of you.

He bit down on your lip and you giggled.

"Felt your pussy clench around me, doll" he laughed, "You're good to me"

"You may be all mine, Buck, but I'm all yours too"

"Holy shit" he panted, shaking his head in disbelief. It was as if you weren't real. He'd have pinched himself, but if this was a dream, he really did not want to wake up. So he kept going.

Nibbling at the skin of your neck, he started to pull himself out of you. The slow pace was driving you insane. Your need grew so strong you felt everything. His breath, the way his hair tickled your chin, his strong around around your shoulders, his massive thighs rubbing against yours, every small vein along his cock that drove you closer and closer to the sweetest bliss you had ever known.

He got you all worked up at an agonisingly slow pace, before his thrusts became more and more aggravated. You moaned with each thrust despite your struggles to keep quiet.

"You know how much I love hearing you, doll" Bucky shook his head as he drove himself back inside of you all the way, "Moan for me"

"Fuck, ok" you gasped, and closed your eyes as you started to fall apart. You gripped the bed sheets into your hands and pulled as he kept fucking you, deep and hard.

"You're so good, baby" he groaned, "So, so good for me"

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, fervently sucking deep, maroon marks all ice your skin. Gutural grounds betrayed his air of self control as a plethora of curse words escaped his lips. "Taking me so fucking well. I can't keep going like this, you're too fucking tight-"

"Cum, baby" you encouraged, voice low and tender as you spoke against his ear, "Cum for me"

"Don’t have to tell me twice" he chuckled.

His thrusts started to become sloppy and irregular, as his eyes flew closed. You missed the blue of his eyes, but his mouth was slightly agape as he panted his way to an orgasm.

His chest heaved against yours, "How do you feel so fucking good?" Bucky cursed, eyes still closed as he barely managed to mumble his words between the numerous grunts of pleasure that forced their way out of his throat.

You gave him no answer, instead just clung to him tighter, "Fuck, Bucky, I'm close-"

"Come on" he encouraged, hurrying to rub your clit. His fingers found your bud in an instant, working experienced, familiar circles that almost drove you over the edge. "Cum with me, ok?"

You nodded, gathering your lips between your teeth. He kept fucking you, harder and faster until he had turn limp under his weight. You came as his name rolled off your lips, and he followed seconds after, pumping his juices deep inside your pussy.

You felt his absolute pleasure as he breathed heavily against your shoulder. He kept going until you were both spent, and then fell down beside you.

"Bucky-" you whined, turning over and curling into his side, the lack of contact making you more needy than ever.

"Yes, darling?" he panted, tapping your chin.

"Nothing. I just love you"

"Love you too, doll" he huffed, spinning you around so you laid on your back.

He effortlessly helped you out of your shirt and plopped down on top of you, his head resting on your bare chest. His warm, right hand cupped your breast as he closed his eyes. He wrapped himself around you, "Hold me" he muttered, "please"

"Always, Bucky" you said, engulfing him in the tightest hold you could muster. Only then did you feel him calm down completely, and there was nothing in the world you could ever ask for.

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

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Sup The Wine On Your Tongue (nsfw)

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Sally McKenna x Fem Reader

Requested by anon: “a billie x sally x reader smut fic”

A/N: basically this is porn without plot. Quotes are from The Song of Solomon because I love to sin 🤫 As usual, English isn’t my first language. x

Word count: ≈ 2 300

“Eyes closed, baby,” Billie Dean cooed. You shivered as her acrylics grazed up your left thigh, avoiding your center to glide softly over your hip and playfully tap the skin there.

You squirmed on the bed. “But I want to see you,” you whined, faking a pout. “You’re so pretty.”

Billie chuckled affectionately. She laid her other hand on your cheek, making you instinctively tilt your head to press a kiss to her palm. You hummed at the lingering perfume of her rose-scented hand cream, playfully nipped her finger and sucked on the skin to let the taste fill your mouth.

Billie chuckled again. “Kitty cat,” she smiled.

You peered up at her with a lovesick grin. Billie’s fingers were tracing patterns on your left hip, infuriatingly slow and chasing every thought from your mind to replace them with the burn and fogginess of arousal.

“There’s no one in the room next door,” you breathed, making Billie laugh. “I checked.”

“Of course you did.”

Your eyelids fluttered as Billie leaned down to pepper kisses between your breasts, her blond locks tickling your stomach and making you shiver. She flicked her tongue on your nipple before softly grazing her teeth over it.

Your hand automatically came up to stroke the soft skin of the nape of her neck, fingers brushing back strands of hair, fingers walking down her spine from one protruding vertebra to the next. Billie moved to your other breast, trailing open-mouthed kisses up the swell, sucking on your peaked nipple to draw a soft moan from you.

“Louder,” she growled, voice thick with desire. “You said no one could hear us.” Saying so, she pressed one thigh against your bare center, and moaned at the feel of your arousal on her skin.

You sank your nails into her back and started rolling your hips to grind down on her thigh, your head pushing back into the pillow and leaving your neck exposed. Billie immediately jumped at the chance. She pressed her opened mouth on your pulse point and greedily sucked on the skin.

“Fuck,” you breathed, eyes fluttering closed.

Billie groaned. “Louder,” she repeated. And you felt her flex the muscles in her thigh as she pressed it deeper into your core, felt the warmth of her hand as she rested it on the curve of your waist to guide your movements.

You tilted your head so your mouth was brushing her ear, and let out a low, long, sensual moan, followed by a slightly self-conscious giggle. Billie’s whole body shivered. She groaned, more hungrily this time, and pressed her mouth to your neck again.

But then all of a sudden she stopped. You let out a noise of protest, opened your eyes to see what was wrong.

Billie was staring fixedly at a dark corner of the room. You followed her gaze, but saw nothing there.

“Billie?” you called, anxiety piercing the cloud of lust in your head. But Billie’s eyes were soft and amused.

She coked her head to the side and smiled smugly. “Come on out, babydoll,” she rasped.

When you looked in the direction of the corner again, there was Sally, wearing a black velvet dress that cut to her knees, tears glistening on her cheeks and right hand holding a cigarette above her shoulder.

“By all means do continue,” Sally said with that quiver like a rift in her voice that meant she was mad. “I do not mean to interrupt your lay.”

You rolled your eyes at her, and sat up on the bed. “We didn’t know where you were, Sally.”

“Yeah, and it’s not like you took the trouble to find me, is it?” Sally’s eyes were flashing angrily in the dim light. Fresh tears spilled out, rolling their way through the dark makeup smudges on her cheeks. “Who needs dear old fucked-up Sally when one can screw a living bitch?”

Billie frowned. “Don’t be like that,” she scolded. She tapped your thigh to signal you to move. You reluctantly obeyed and slumped on the bed, pressing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing in your core.

Slowly, sensually, and completely naked, Billie stood up and crossed to Sally. When she reached her, she raised one hand to wipe the tears from her face and the other to take her cigarette. She locked eyes with Sally and slowly closed her lips around the cigarette, lifting her chin when she blew out the smoke.

Sally still looked mad, but something changed in her eyes. They flicked down to Billie’s mouth, then up to meet her gaze, then down to her mouth again. Her tongue darted out to lick her upper lip, and when she looked up to meet Billie’s gaze again, a small, sly smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Billie gave her back her cigarette, smirking.

You wriggled on the bed, letting out an impatient noise to remind them you were there, and very much needy. Sally looked at you, sank her teeth into her lower lip.

Billie took the cigarette from her again and grabbed her chin with her free hand. And then she crashed her open mouth against Sally’s, slipping her tongue inside and kissing her in that greedy, sultry way she knew made Sally so needy and so weak in the knees.

True to herself, Sally whimpered and pressed herself against Billie, wriggling her body to make it fit perfectly. And then she was all over Billie, hands roaming her body and kneading her ass and tugging on her hair, teeth biting and grazing, and you let out another impatient noise, because they were having entirely too much fun without you, and you were getting cold, and needed attention.

Without taking her mouth off of Sally’s, Billie guided her to the bed and gently pushed her down onto it. Sally immediately reached for you, and you gratefully met her mouth, hot and wet with Billie’s saliva.

“Did you forget about me?” Sally pouted into the kiss.

“Never,” you growled.

And as she was kissing you, Sally reached out behind her for Billie’s hand, tugging on it when she found it so she could feel you both and let herself sink into your combined warmth. “Closer,” she growled, to you or to Billie, you didn’t know. Billie pressed herself closer against Sally’s back, pushing her into you, and slipped one hand up to Sally’s head to guide it between your legs.

“Finish her up,” Billie rasped,”since you were so eager to participate.”

Billie winked at you and you let out a pitiful whimper, for Sally… Sally was so skilled with that tongue of hers. It had been months and you still had no idea how she did it. She could tease you for hours until you were a desperate, whimpering mess, or have you come in minutes. Billie closed her fingers around Sally’s dirty blond locks, and Sally groaned low in the throat as her mouth met your dripping center.

Your lips parted in bliss as Sally worked her magic, but soon she was pushing her pelvis towards Billie in a silent plea to be touched, and when Billie complied, Sally pushed her head back from you and arched her back to sink deeper into Billie’s touch, causing you to whine in protest.

“Dear me,” Billie chuckled. “What am I going to do with you both so desperate and needy.”

Sally groaned again, hips rolling like a dancer’s against Billie’s touch, short gasps falling from her mouth, but Billie tutted and removed her hand.

She sat up on the bed and pushed back her hair over her shoulder. Her eyes were shining predatorily in the dim light. “Lie back and touch yourself,” she ordered you, in that low, husky voice that made your insides melt.

You blinked, did as you were told. Billie swallowed and watched your hand as you ran it teasingly slow down your chest, circling your nipples, then down your stomach and between your legs. The lust in her eyes, so dark and so thick, made you shiver. Your head fell back slightly as you rubbed broad strokes around your aching clit, slow and lazy to draw out your pleasure.

Sally let out a frustrated huff. She wriggled closer to Billie and rested her chin on her shoulder.

“You like seeing us fuck, don’t you,” she rasped into Billie’s ear, drawing back her lips to nip at her lobe. A whimper fell out of Billie’s mouth. “I was reading a poem before you turned all naughty on me. It reminded me of you. Wanna hear it?”

You let out a moan as pleasure crackled between your legs, never averting your gaze from Billie’s, feeding on how blown her pupils were. With a noiseless laugh, Sally arched her back so her chest was pressing against Billie’s side, and slipped her hand down to Billie’s center. Billie sucked in a breath and bit back a moan as she lifted her hips to meet Sally’s touch.

“Your rounded thighs are like jewels,” Sally rasped, mouth opening on another noiseless laugh of delight at the ecstatic look on Billie’s face, “the work of a master hand. Your navel is a rounded bowl that never lacks wine.”

Your eyes flicked down to Sally’s hand, widening at the sight of her deft fingers teasing and pinching and rubbing. Wet sounds echoed the ones that came from your own ministrations. You let out another soft moan as you ran your eyes back up Billie’s taut stomach, her breasts, nipples peaked and pink, her plump lips, her stormy eyes.

“Your lips are lilies, dripping liquid myrrh,” Sally whispered, as she bit on Billie’s ear lobe again.

Billie’s eyelashes fluttered, but she kept her eyes open, kept holding your gaze, and you almost came at the sight of your own lust reflected in them. Billie was so goddamn beautiful, skin glistening, face flushed and lips pouring out desperate sighs and gasps as her hips waltzed with Sally’s hand.

“Oh, just like that,” she moaned, “just like that baby.”

You moaned again, louder, almost as a dare, and smirked when Billie shivered at the sound of it and almost closed her eyes.

Sally’s mouth had moved to Billie’s neck and was sucking and biting bruises on the immaculate, creamy skin – but then her eyes suddenly darted towards the wall before her, and you vaguely noticed the fear that widened them.

She was always glancing at the walls, Sally. When she was sad, when she was happy, when you were making love. You had brought it up to Billie, who hadn’t looked surprised. You knew the hotel was haunted by monsters infinitely more terrible than Sally. She had told you bits of stories you didn’t want to know the rest of.

“Eyes on us, baby,” you breathed.

Sally blinked, glanced at you. Her eyes drifted to your parted legs, to your hand moving between them, and turned a hue darker.

Billie’s hand came up to tilt Sally’s chin and press her mouth to hers. Sally half smiled, half sobbed into the kiss. When Billie pulled away for breath, Sally needily leaned in for another kiss, wet and sloppy, before sinking her teeth into Billie’s lower lip and pulling hard.

“There’s no one else here, baby,” Billie panted. And Sally believed her, as she always did.

She let go of Billie’s lip and resumed her lovemaking. Billie’s mouth parted on short breaths that grew more and more erratic; you saw her reaching out to clutch the sheet, saw the muscles in her arm tense up. She was close, and Sally knew it, too; she increased the pace between Billie’s legs, and you increased yours, because you wanted her and you to climax together.

There was something so hot in holding Billie’s gaze that was driving you crazy. You fed on the sight of her, blond locks curling above the fullness of her breasts, stomach and thighs taut and trembling with anticipation. You sucked in a breath as your body stiffened. Sally chuckled at the sound of it and responded by roughly pushing two fingers inside Billie. The sight of them disappearing into Billie’s wet, tight core was enough to send you flying over the edge.

You let out a loud, long moan that went right through Billie. She came maybe three seconds after you, her body tensing up and her hips bucking as Sally cooed in her ear, not slowing down her pace but smiling and twisting her wrist to push her fingers deeper as she continued to pump into her. You forced your eyes open to take in the sight of Billie as she came undone, your own pleasure coursing through your body in hot waves and bouncing off the walls right back at her.

Billie let out a whine, wrapped one hand around Sally’s wrist to pull her out of her. You stared and stared at Billie as you panted for breath, running your eyes all over her body, feeding on everything, her pale glistening skin, the heaving of her chest, the pleasure written all over the curve of her mouth and the flush of her face and the occasional trembling of her hips. Billie’s eyes smirked at you.

Hungry for attention, Sally leaned in to claim Billie’s lips. When she pulled away, she raised her hand to her mouth and licked her fingers clean, eyes boring into Billie’s. “How much better is your love than wine,” she teased, “and the fragrance of your oils than any spice.”

Billie let out a sleepy chuckle. “Are you quoting the Bible while pleasuring your girlfriend?”

“That’s so poetic, babe,” you laughed.

Sally flashed a wicked grin at you, mouth falling open, tongue peeking out. “Your lips drip nectar, my bride,” she laughed, crawling on the bed to you and teasing your mouth with hers, “honey and milk are under your tongue.” And then she let out a happy cry as you circled your arms around her waist and pushed her down underneath you, peppering kisses on her mouth and on that special spot on her neck that always drew giggles from her.

“Shush, now, princess,” you breathed against her skin, shivering as Billie ran one lazy hand up your spine. “Open your mouth and let me taste your nectar.”

Tag list: @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers @coconutlipss @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills @okpaulson

#is this too much about billie?#probably #can you blame me though?#ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #billie dean howard #sally mckenna #billie dean howard x reader #sally mckenna x reader #billie dean howard x sally mckenna x reader #fics

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drivingsideways · 3 years

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Hey talk to me about your top three favourite kdrama women. What makes them special? What's a fic you would like to write about any one of them?

Mystery anon! :D What a lovely ask.

I’m going to cheat a bit and divide my answer into characters I loved a lot, but do not want to write fic about, because I think the canon gives me what I need; and characters that I loved a lot but NEED TO BE RESCUED ZOMG. (My fic writing impulses are 50% spite and 50% fix-it )

Caveat being that I’ve still watched only maybe a dozen kdramas, so I’m pretty limited in my knowledge!

Characters that I love a lot, but have very zero fic impulses toward:

Han Yeo-jin from Stranger/Secret Forest: What a delight! What an iconique character! Is there anyone like her? NO. LSY-nim gives us a delightfully complex character, and Bae Doona knocks it out of the park in every single scene, so I’m just happy to be along for the ride. I think what makes Yeo-jin special for me is the intrinsic place of empathy that she operates from. I think “righteous” is a word that often comes with negative connotations (self-righteous, for eg), but I do think she’s one of the most righteous-in-the-good-way characters I’ve watched in kdrama or any drama. I’m tired of stories that portray goodness as “boring” , as unworthy of narrative breadth or depth, and I love that Han Yeo-jin comes to us like a breath of fresh air in our particular dystopian narratives hellscape. She’s good, but never naive. She’s righteous but never cruel in her moral certainties. I think that LSY nim, in the second season especially, gave Yeo-jin the kind of arc that character deserved when she’s forced to really dig deep into herself to figure out how she’s going to live in the world in the face of a deeply cutting, deeply personal disillusionment, and I’m really hoping for an S3 to see how that plays out further.

Goo Hae-ryung from Rookie Historian: Ok, I will admit this may be rose tinted glasses view due to this show being my gateway drug into kdrama, but c’mon! She’s a reader! and a Thinker! And loves her wine! She’s plucky! She’s cute! She’s got a wry sense of humour! She’s got principles! She’s got a solid common sense to her that somehow doesn’t get in the way of her dreaming BIG! Oh dear, doesn’t she sound like the Mary-est of Mary Sues? Good for her.gif, I say! Anyways, Shin Se-kyung is unutterably charming in this (AS IN EVERY SHOW OMG GIRL) and I just have a huge fondness for free-spirited heroines who get to tramp through the narrative changing the world as they do!

Lee Ji-an from My Ahjussi: I’ve never had my heart broken more OR restored by any single character. IU is *phenomenal * in this, I think she really stepped up to what the script demanded from her. Ji-an’s weariness, her fear and vulnerability, her prickliness, her anger and her bitterness, and how, despite everything, she fights : GOD. Just. Again, what I love about the writing in this show is that it’s deeply empathetic without being cloyingly sentimental. I think a less, hmm, imaginative writer/PD might have focused on the Lee Ji-an the victim, and while the show definitely tells you in no uncertain terms that she is one, of both circumstances and a cruel society, I think it refuses to take away her agency over her own life.(Lee Ji-an when we meet her is too busy hanging onto life by tooth and claw to indulge in self-pity, but we also see the toll it takes on her not to be able to say “this is too heavy a burden for me to carry myself and it isn’t my fault”; the show I think approaches Dong-hoon from the opposite side- his emotional isolation is partly a result of his own choices, but he doesn’t see it yet, and so his journey is also about letting people in and sharing the burden, but also recovering his own agency over his life. It’s an interestingly gender-bent arc, which is one of the things I love about this show. )

Ok, can I please add one more?

Hwang Han-joo from Melo is my Nature: She just felt SO real to me. She’s someone who doesn’t have the spectacular brilliance of either Jin-joo or Eun-jung, and struggles with accepting her limitations but not allowing herself to be defeated by them? I love her struggles as a mother, as a working woman in a sexist industry, a woman who’s perhaps having to rethink and reimagine what she wants from romance. I love that she’s a little silly, a lot kind, and an optimist, and just. I just think she’s the bravest of the three, tbh, and I LOVE HER AND I WOULD WATCH A SPIN OFF ABOUT JUST HER (i shouldn’t have faves among the three i know, BUT I DO, IT’S HER, IT’S HER.)

Ok! On to the next section! And I’m going to cheat again because I can’t stop at three. SORRY. NOT SORRY.

Characters I love and SHOULD write fic for if I weren’t such a tired and lazy bunny:

Song Sa-hui from Rookie Historian: Oh, girl, girl, GIRL. I love how she fights to snatch her freedom from the jaws of the patriarchy. I love that she unapologetically centers herself while doing that, because she knows that nobody else will. I love that she’s prickly and calculating. I love that she’s smart and knowledgeable. I am SO HAPPY that she got to carve out a little bit of freedom for herself, even if it also is exile to some degree. She *should * be Emperor Jin’s Prime Minister and steering the ship of state, while also carrying on a tumultous affair with Queen Min Woo-hee, while ALSO commiserating with Emperor Jin about his boyfriend Historian Min Woo-won’s regrettable tendency towards Principles (TM) and masochism-but-not-in-the-fun-way. (This takes up much of his time which is why Song Sa-hui is running the country, of course. It works out well for all concerned, well, except her dad, of course.)

Song Ga-gyeong from Search:WWW: What’s NOT to love about our brilliant, beautiful, emotionally tortured gay icon? Nothing, absolutely nothing. I loved how the show allowed her to be flawed and make bad decisions, and then allowed her to make better decisions and regain control of her life. What I do need to do, of course, is see the CANON LOVE STORY between her and Cha Hyeon through to the end. It must, of course, include at least one baseball game, a lot of tequila and messy beach kisses.

Oh Ji-hwa from Beyond Evil: Oh boy, this year’s runaway hit cleared the extremely low bar for standard crime/ thriller shows by leaving more than one of its female characters breathing and with all limbs intact, and got called feminist for it BUT it didn’t do justice to any of them in any meaningful way and that never hurt more than in the way they sidelined Kim Shin-rok’s talent by not giving Oh Ji-hwa anything much to do. She’s a tough as nails cop, a loving sister, a devoted but unsentimental friend-and by rights SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE HEROINE OF THIS SHOW. My secret fic fantasy is to rewrite the show entirely by making her , and the two other female characters in non-antagonist roles- Yoo Jae-yi and Im Sun-nyeo- as the central characters, as they investigate a serial killer who targets women. It’s the only acceptable version of this done-to-death (ha!) genre, I have no idea what the Baeksang jury and tumblr fandom is smoking when they hype the show so much, I want none of it.

Jung Sun-ah from The Devil Judge: I love her rage, her spite, her passionate defense of women, her style, her sexiness, her rage, her rage, her brilliance, her tenaciousness, her smartness, her clothes, her refusal to hate herself for everything she is and chooses to be, her ambition, her comfort wielding power, her EVERYTHING. Dead, her? NOT IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT. Here’s what *really * happened at the end of canon- she gets out of the building by planting that lady-like but still deadly gun against Kang Yo-han’s temple and making him lead her through his own “secret escape route” or whatever the fuck it was the show wanted us to believe. From there on out, it’s all sunshine and beaches, and scheming and waiting for the right moment to strike again-though of course, this time around, she also has to reckon with vigilant, tenacious cop Soo-hyun -another character who REALLY didn’t die for manpain reasons and had the good sense to leave her gay best friend to follow his psychopath boyfriend to Switzerland or wherever it is that star crossed lovers in kdrama land meet up on the regs these days- anyways, Soo-hyun and her are in this catch-me-if-you-can epic transnational honest and cute cop-and-beautiful sexy villain chase and yes, they WILL kiss (and more) AND IT WILL BE GLORIOUS.

*whew *

Thanks for coming to my TEDTalk.

#kdrama #thank you for this ask OMG #[fiona apple voice] ladies ladies ladies ladies

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 3 years

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homesick

summary: when you’re homesick near the holidays, Quinn does his best to make you feel at home with him and a cup of cocoa.

word count: 2.4k

note from the writer: day two! gotta say, this one was very self indulgent / masterposts of the Christmas fics

tagging: @bqstqnbruin @broadstbroskis @laurenairay @calgarycanuck @sorryjustafangirl @slapshot-to-the-heart @cthoodsthetic @tayella13 @wastedheartcth @kiedhara / add yourself to my Christmas fic taglist

Moving far away from your hometown had always been the plan. It was a fresh start, with new people, sights, and opportunities.

But, no matter how much you loved living away from home, you really missed it sometimes.

The Christmas season had long arrived in full force, decorations in every window and holiday songs on repeat in every department store. And usually you loved it, you were the first person to put up the lights and the last one to take them down in the new year. But it was your first Christmas away from home; work keeping you in Vancouver when all you wanted was the nostalgic familiarity of the holidays in your hometown.

As a result, you turned into a bit of a grump. Declining invites to go out with friends and opting to stay inside and mope by yourself. Really, it was doing nothing to help the feeling of homesickness, but you’d never admit that to yourself.

Quinn caught onto this; he was always sperceptive of your changing moods even before you started dating. So once you sent your message telling Jake and the rest of the group to go bar hopping without you, it only took Quinn half an hour to show up unannounced on your doorstep.

A knock drew your attention from the corny Hallmark movie you had been watching, and you hit pause on the dramatic confession of love. The woman who never had time for romance after moving to the big city to pursue her dreams could wait to tell the hardworking man from her hometown how she felt. On your doorstep was the man who managed to capture your own heart, even if you hadn’t quite told him in so many words yet.

“Hey, I didn’t realize we had plans tonight?” You told Quinn, nonetheless opening the door wider and letting him in. He ducked down to give you a kiss before replying, and it was only after he had shuffled all the way into your apartment did you notice the takeout bag in his hand.

“We didn’t, but I wanted to see you.” He shrugged a shoulder, making his way into your kitchen while you shut and locked the front door behind him. When you finally caught up to him, he was pulling containers of food out of the bag, and when you recognized the company’s logo, you looked at your boyfriend suspiciously.

“You ordered from Kimmy’s; you never order from Kimmy’s.” You confronted him, his answering laugh echoing throughout the otherwise quiet apartment. It was the old argument between the two of you; you loved Kimmy’s, Quinn loved Lucy’s. They had the same food and were in theory the same place, but you swore Kimmy’s way better. Even when you told Quinn to order from Kimmy’s, he always, without fail, came back with Lucy’s instead.

Except for tonight, apparently.

Quinn gave you a sheepish look and stopped pulling food out the bag, and instead opened his arms for a hug. Confused but not wanting to pass up the opportunity to be held by your favorite guy, you complied, and his arms came around you to hold you tight.

“I know you’ve been sad about not being able to go home lately.” He started, rocking you back and forth. You didn’t protest his statement, because there was nothing to object to. Instead, you waited for him to finish. “So I figured that we could have your favorite takeout, and then watch some Christmas movies. I also have a surprise for later.”

“This isn’t the surprise?” You questioned with a grin, tilting your head up to look at him whilst staying in his arms. A swell of emotions took over you, but the one that hit you squarely in the chest was the overwhelming desire to tell Quinn you loved him.

And you did love him. You loved that he knew when you were upset and when you needed a pick-me-up movie night. You loved the way he smiled and the way he laughed. The way he made you go to all of his home games when you were free and called you his good luck charm, win or lose. You loved him with your very being, and you had known for a while that you loved him, but you had been waiting for the perfect moment to tell him.

“No, this isn’t the surprise.” He chuckled, dropping a kiss to your forehead before turning to finish getting the food out of the bag. You slipped away to grab two plates, along with silverware, moving seamlessly with Quinn until you were sitting on your couch with him.

“What movie did you want to watch?” You asked, reaching for the remote to turn off the cheesy Hallmark movie you had all but forgotten about.

“This is your cheer up movie, you pick.” Quinn told you with a shrug, already digging into his plate. You rolled your eyes at his smile, biting back the joke about how he shouldn’t talk with his mouth full. Wasting little time, you pulled up a classic—Love, Actually.

“It’s a sappy romance movie kind of night.” You told Quinn decidedly, and he didn’t put up an argument. Settling back into your seat, you felt yourself start to feel a little bit better about not being able to spend Christmas back home. After all, you couldn’t worry about much with Quinn by your side.

By the time Colin Firth was jumping into the lake to save his novel, Quinn got up from the couch and whispered a quiet ‘I’ll be right back’ before slipping into the kitchen. You tried your very best, but you couldn’t focus on the movie any longer and instead you found yourself listening to your boyfriend doing something in your kitchen. Ratting dishes, running water, and the sound of your microwave—for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out what he was up to.

“Do you need any help?” You called after a moment, a smile toying on your lips as you heard Quinn let out a quiet curse. Part of you wondered if you should be a little more concerned, knowing his lack of domestic skills could very well lead to something disastrous, but you trusted him enough to tell you if something went awry.

“No, I got it.” He replied, and just then he was reemerging with two mugs of hot cocoa, decked out with marshmallows and candy canes that he must have snuck in with the takeout.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh, Huggy?” You teased, watching with mirth as he rolled his eyes playfully at the nickname. You spent too much time with his teammates, but you had to admit they were onto something with the teasing name. There was just something entirely too adorable about calling your boyfriend Huggy, especially when all he typically did in response was blush.

“Anything for you.” The comment was delivered in a light tone, but you and Quinn both heard the honesty that rang through the three simple words. Another set of three simple words made its way to the forefront of your mind, begging to be said. But instead, you chuckled quietly, most of your attention on the mug he was setting on the coffee table in front of you.

“Cheesy.”

“Hey, you said it was a sappy romance night.” He defended, settling back into his seat by your side. You didn’t respond right away, too busy taking a sip of the cocoa Quinn made. You could tell he was waiting for your reaction expectantly, and you gave him a proud smile when you realized it tasted perfectly fine.

“I love it.” You assured him, and with that final bit of convincing both of your attentions returned to the movie. You had to admit, as much as you felt like a grinch before, Quinn’s efforts to make you feel more at home thousands of miles away from your family were warming your heart.

Though, you wanted to say something a little bit different than ‘I love it.’

The movie continued and by the time credits were rolling, Quinn was on his feet and ushering you to the door with a grin. You complied, only after pouting your lips for a few short kisses that he readily supplied.

“So what’s the surprise?” You questioned, following Quinn’s actions by tugging on your coat. He chuckled, not taking the bait and revealing what he had planned just yet.

“I’m not telling you, but I got the idea from Brock.” He confessed, opening your front door for you. You shot him a teasing look, meeting his lopsided grin and feeling your heart swell in your chest. Following him out of your apartment, you couldn’t help the next comment that slipped past your lips.

“You’re taking romance advice from Brock now? Was Jake not available?” You joked, referencing his teammates’ mess of love lives. Jake was in a friends with benefits situation with someone he was falling for fast and you were pretty sure Brock was still in love with his ex from his hometown. Quinn shook his head in mirth at the chirp directed at your mutual friends, and instead of answering, he slipped his hand into yours.

“Well, it was my idea. Brock just told me where to go.” Was all he said on the topic, watching you lock your apartment door behind you. He filled you in on the latest jokes from his practice earlier in the day as you made your way out to his car. He was in the middle of a story about Petey’s sports car and not handling Vancouver’s winters by the time he opened your door for you and it was only after ten minutes of driving did you think to question him about where you were going once more.

“Huggy, where are we going?” You sighed dramatically. Even in the dark, you could tell he rolled his eyes playfully at the nickname.

“Why do you have to call me that?” He teasingly groaned, reaching over the center console to thread his fingers through yours. Giving his hand a squeeze, you chuckled at his mock annoyance.

“That’s not an answer.” You said in a sing-song to get your point across. It was Quinn’s turn to chuckle, the sound bringing a grin to your face and causing your heart to pick up in pace.

“You know how you said you wanted to go look at lights?” Quinn started, immediately piquing your attention and earning an excited gasp from you. He was smiling, clearly proud of himself and you felt your eagerness grow.

“You’re taking me to drive around and look at Christmas lights?” You sat up in your seat, turning to face your boyfriend with a hopeful look. He chuckled at your reaction, lifting your hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it as a form of answer. You could have sworn you felt your heart grow two sizes at the action, the three words you had yet to say to him begging to roll off your tongue.

“I remember you said that you always drive around your hometown with your family to look at the lights, so I figured we could do the same thing.” Quinn said as if it was something nonchalant like the weather, and not one of the sweetest things you had ever heard.

That was the tipping point.

“I love you.” You blurted before you could stop yourself. You felt the car swerve slightly as Quinn worked through his initial shock at your confession. He glanced at you, then, a broad smile on his face that helped calm your nerves slightly.

“Yeah?” He questioned with unrestrained glee in his tone. You nodded, watching as he pulled over onto the side of the road. As soon as he had the car in park, he was leaning over to your side and grabbing your face with both of his hands to connect your lips in a kiss that settled you completely.

He didn’t need to say the words back immediately, you felt them in the way he was kissing you, the way he was taking you to drive around and look at lights. You felt it in the way he bought your favorite takeout and let you watch your sappy romance movies. The way he knew you needed a night with him to help get over your homesickness.

You loved him and he loved you just the same.

“I love you, too.” He told you just that the moment he broke the kiss, the words mumbled against your lips with a sureness and honesty that you felt to your core. You were in love with Quinn and he loved you back, and with that knowledge you felt all your previous sadness about missing home disappear, because as long as you were with him you could make any place feel like home.

“Thank you.” You told him as he pulled back out onto the road and continued towards the neighborhood full of houses decorated to the nines with lights and other Christmas ornaments. Quinn gave you a confused look, though he was still wearing his same dopey smile he had since the moment you confessed your feelings to him. “For doing all of this, I mean.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He said simply, and now that you had already said it once, your second I love you fell past your lips with much more ease and a lot less nerves. He repeated his earlier action of pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, and you couldn’t help but admire his profile that was currently bathed in white, red, and green lights from the decorations outside on the houses. His smile turned a little mischievous, but you barely noticed, too caught up in your love for him. “You’re supposed to be looking at the lights, you know. Not me.”

“I can’t help it.” You replied with a chuckle, finally dragging attention from him and out the window. The sights were truly beautiful, but you were looking at everything with rose tinted glasses now that you had finally confessed and knew he felt the same.

It was funny, you thought, that you moved so far away from home and yet the lights on the decorated houses could have been the ones in your hometown and you wouldn’t have known the difference. You still missed your family, of course, but with one glance to the man driving you around, it all felt a little bit more like home.

Being in love made it all a bit easier.

#Quinn hughes #Quinn hughes imagine #quinnn hughes x reader #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks imagine #vancouver canucks x reader #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #12 days fics

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mysticalmusicwhispers · 3 years

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lovers’ dreams

Summary: “A day fit for a spring dream.” And then he kisses Roshan, and they become lost in each other.

Characters: India (Aditya), China, Iran/Persia (Roshan, genderfluid). Human names used. Indran, Churan, and Indchu for ships!

Notes: 100% distilled surrealism! This was supposed to be a writing exercise that ran away from me rip. There are many footnotes that explain Many things. Enjoy!

also on AO3! (there are bonus thoughts and explanations there for anyone who’s interested or slightly confused 😅. everything necessary for you to understand the story is here too but I ramble about my thoughts going into the piece on AO3 lol)

———

The willow’s drooping branches hide Yao’s face like a beaded curtain, a bride’s sheer red veil. The spring breeze snakes through the tree, and the sound of wedding suona—sorna rings through the silence. A flutter of phoenix wings brushes past their ear, a whisper on the wind. Roshan walks languidly until they are in front of Yao; it takes a minute—it takes a month. Yao’s face is sharp and his eyes glint, like the jade in his belt. But the kiss is soft when they take his lips in theirs, and it tastes of the rose’s tender petals. The clean sweetness of flowers is warm against Roshan’s face and the fragrance of tea drifts into their nostrils.

Yao pulls away, and Roshan opens their eyes to polished jade thorns sprouting up from the earth around them—crisp green, sharp-tipped; elegant, dangerous. So these are the fruits of our love. It is fitting. They lean to kiss Yao again, and this time, a laugh peals through the air when they part. It is not Roshan’s, and it isn’t Yao’s. But it is clear as spring water and tinkles like a bell, a joyous sound, and it makes Yao smile—a smile that is gentle, calculating; sweet, dangerous. A copper coin hides in the corner of his lips. “A day fit for a spring dream.” And then he kisses Roshan, and they become lost in each other.

When Roshan opens their eyes again, Yao is gone. They are standing in nothingness, a shell of a dream. A liminal plane. A wedding song echoes in the empty space, loud and cheerful, although there are no musicians to be seen playing the dohol, the sorna. Then sprung from the air, a mirror of fate, Aayeneh-ye Bakh, with its customary candelabras flanking it, and with their dots of golden light—miniature suns, sparkling stars. Its face shimmers, clear and gleaming: a pond on a full moon night—and in it, Yao stands, his reflection bright, splendid robes shimmering like gold scales and fine silk. Roshan reaches out a hand, and pulls him into a kiss.

“Welcome back, my dear.”

———

It is sunset, and a chill brushes past Yao’s shoulders and winds through his hair. The sky burns red, and fork tongued flames lick at the sun. A world bathed in fire, on the cusp of night. A lotus pond sits before him, and a figure is at its edge—Aditya, adorned in gold, the perfect figure of a prince. He, a dream of glittering palaces and beady emeralds, bright against the glow of the setting sun, sharp against the bloody sky. He holds a lotus blossom out, and Yao takes it. It is pure, tender in his calloused hands. A drop of blood drips from a petal. He lets it float into the water, and Aditya watches with him as the peach pink petals drop before their eyes—the lotus head balloons, then falls with the weight of seeds; it withers, a shell of its fruit. Divine beauty is short lived—seasons turn with the winds of change.

Aditya loops an arm around him, bare skin on bare skin, the warmth of the sun hanging around them like a curtain. Their lips meet. The kiss is long, and lingers even after Yao pulls away; it is slightly bitter, but how could it not be? Aditya’s eyes are like black tea, and Yao tastes acrid lily bulbs. The sky has faded into burnt orange, the aftermath of a blaze. Autumn leaves fall from ginkgo trees, golden yellow, bright with memories of the past. Aditya closes his eyes, and Yao watches him sink into a dream.

The scene shifts before his eyes. The lotus pond morphs into a giant chessboard, and they are on opposite sides. Aditya plays white. Cream colored pawns meet chocolate brown knights, and they watch as kings rise and fall, as steady as the spinning of the world. Chariots race and elephants trumpet; the cavalry fight with long swords and bows, and the peasants use polearms, raised fists. Yao meets Aditya’s eyes, warm but gleaming with an ambition that has never gone away. He nods to his neighbor to the west, to his rival, lover, partner, equal. Aditya smiles.

“So we meet again.”

———

It is afternoon, and the sun is warm on his face. Roshan sits on a bench in the courtyard, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, a pomegranate in the other. Aditya nestles into their side, and they give him a feather light cheek kiss, gift him a wisp of air. They hold out the pomegranate, offers it, and Aditya takes a bite. Roshan takes the other half. They watch as the fruit regrows, seeds become jewels, glittering rubies in folds of red fabric. Roshan holds one up to the light with a critical eye. They spread tawny wings, amber eagle eyes alight with the pride of the past present future. A lion and the sun. The wings disappear—a trick of the light, reality fallen away. Then they hold up the cup of coffee.

“For you.” Aditya smiles, and offers a cup of black tea in return.

We have shared many things, and fought over equally many. How will it be in the future? He takes a sip, and falls through the cup.

A cemetery of swords surrounds them, a memory of things gone by. Afternoon sunlight filters through the trees, winds into Roshan’s hair. Idly peaceful. Flowers sprout through the earth; wither; climb up the rusted metal once again. A vine of roses twists around the hilt of a ceremonial spear, supple and full against cool, glinting steel. The leaves flicker, green yellow dead green again. Its blossom is still fresh red, like passion, like their love, pooling around them like a million memories, a still night in the river of time. Aditya looks at Roshan, different yet the same, a reflection of what they once were. Familiar, always, despite the changing tides and shifting dreams.

———

Notes

this part might actually be longer than the fic itself rip 😔 reminder that there’s extra rambling on ao3 lol

Suona/sorna: suona (唢呐) is a traditional wind instrument often played at wedding and funeral processions in northern China! (also used in Southeast China + Taiwan) It’s very loud and has a super brassy sound, but personally I think it sounds alright! The instrument came from Central Asia and is also used at weddings in Iran (where it’s spelled sorna/sarna), where it’s played with a dohol, a large cylindrical drum.

Phoenixes: wedding imagery in China, where a dragon symbolizes the groom and the phoenix the bride. There’s also an analogue to the phoenix in Persian mythology, a simurgh, which is a benevolent creature that is said to purify the land, roosts in the Tree of Knowledge, and apparently has seen the world be destroyed 3 times. Can symbolize healing, divinity, wisdom, and life. (the simurgh symbolism doesn't have much relevance to the fic but I thought it was incredibly interesting to read about lol)

Spring dream: very loosely referencing the Chinese phrase 一场春梦 (yi chang chun meng), which literally translates to an episode of a spring dream. It means the feeling that past predictions or events were actually totally wrong and fruitless, like you expected something (probably really good), but then woke up to reality not being up to your expectations? I can’t translate 😔

Mirror of Fate: In traditional Iranian weddings, a large, elaborate table with flowers and food and different spices is set up (sofreh aghd). A mirror of fate and 2 candelabras are also placed in the center of the table. The mirror represents how fate brought the bride and groom together, and the candelabras represent light and fire. The mirror is there so that when the groom looks into it, the first thing he should see is his betrothed's reflection.

Lotus blossoms: in China and India and many other parts of Asia, lotuses represent purity (they grow from dark mud but the flowers are pure white/pink), the divine, elegance, spiritual promise, the good part of humanity. so, a lotus with a drop of blood in Yao’s hands would be interesting.

Lily bulbs: this is purely self projection but lily bulbs (baihe) are used in Chinese medicine and I despise them. They're not super bitter but they taste starchy, bland, and off. Also lilies and lotuses are pretty similar and I thought that would be interesting :>

Chess: idk if I need a note for this but chess originated as an Indian game called Chaturanga and spread over to China and Iran, among many other places in Asia.

Tea and Coffee: nothing really special about this besides that Iranians Really Like tea. Decided to make India drink coffee instead for contrast; realistically he’d also be drinking tea lol

Eagle eyes: the Iranian/Persian symbol of the Faravahar, from Zoroastrianism has wings that are supposed to be eagle wings (I think? correct me if it’s just unspecified). You’ve probably seen it; it depicts a man with spread wings, half kneeling in a side view. Nowadays it’s also a symbol of Iranian culture, history, and national pride, besides being representative of Zoroastrianism.

Rose: national flower of Iran, and obv I don’t need to explain the other rose connotations. Also I’ve fully adopted the hc that Roshan and all their stuff smells like roses so that’s there too.

Lion and the sun: getting lazy with the explanations, but the short version is that it was a very important Iranian national symbol for many reasons, moreso tied to the state than culture (imo); it was also on the national flag up till the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Although I’m still debating how much Roshan is associated with the state, I also think sun and lion imagery fits them (glory, golden days, pride and courage). It’s super interesting, go search it up if you wanna read more!

This whole fic was somewhat inspired by this one, and the indchu bit was also somewhat inspired by this fanart.

If you made it down here, you have all my gratitude. Feedback is welcome and appreciated! Thanks for reading <3

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lethargicsunlight · 3 years

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'Demon': Prologue ♡ BakugouXFem!Reader (Book 1)

Alright I'm doing it.

I'm doing the thing.

It literally keeps me awake at night I gotta write thisss *cough* okay

Originally I was only going to post this unto Wattpad, but getting traction on their website is a little more difficult than good ole' Tumblr, so I'll be posting it on both. Feel free to visit my Wattpad here: LINK if you want to support my writing on that end. (I would so appreciate it)

This post is going to run pretty long, as it will host both the prologue of the story and my author's notes. Just a heads up.

Summery:

A slow-burn action/romance where you begin in the bowels of a Villain base and rise up to join U.A.'s top Hero Class. This life was your choice. In the event of learning then losing the love of a friend, you make a decision that changes your reality at the core--to become an imposter among villains and bring them down from the inside out. The organization that ruined your premature perfect life was known as H.H., after their leader Head-Honcho. His crime of choice: intelligence. Training and conducting espionage agents and assassins across Japan as a means to further the dark underground network. Your training began at thirteen, after managing to impress the multi-faced villain with your stealth and your conviction. Rumors would soon spread through the dark alleys of Naruhata City of a masked assassin known as Demon, whose bare face could steal the souls of her targets. Everything appears to be going to plan; but the Hero Agencies you've been slipping information to are calling for an end to your superior sooner than you had anticipated. Your time as 'Demon' is limited. What will happen when your world comes crashing down? Where will you go, when everything you had known you helped to destroy?

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This is a slow burn fan-fic; and I am not italicizing those words without reason. This is going to be an agonizingly slow action-packed adventure-romance. This is a self-insert story, just like my three-part series 'Some Combat Training' (link) where you as the protagonist will not be described outside of being female, general physique, and a generalization of your uniform(s). Skin, hair, eyes, etc. will not be described at all--besides ambiguous adjectives. That said, I am taking liberties with physique and stature due to the nature of the story. You're abilities rely on stealth as well as close and fast combat, therefore you are described as 'small', 'lithe', 'athletic', and all of those other fancy little ninja woman words. Your personality has been shaped by the events of your life and the people within it; but if I were to describe it I would choose words like: Intelligent, determined, self-sacrificing, quiet, humble, and studious. The story will follow along with the anime for the most part starting at around the time of the USJ event, though at some point the story will branch off and become more my original concoction. (Such as, fast-forwarding the time-line to when the characters are older.) Some information about you as the protagonist will not be written here, as I plan for those to be revelations within the story. There will be angst, blood and gore, adult-humor, trauma, death, bad language and warnings will be listed with each chapter as needed. Feel free to comment on those chapters as soon as you see something that isn't mentioned that might make someone (if not yourself) feel uncomfortable. I will not be offended. This story is meant to get a little dark. Please comment if you can about your opinions! I have never posted an on-going fic before, and anything you have to say I would appreciate! <3 Now, please enjoy this short prologue~ Chapter 1 is being reviewed and edited, to be release very soon! 👹🖤⛓🔪💣 ...four...five...six.. You counted the footsteps behind your left ear, round the corner of the dim abandoned subway. You'd been stationary; still so long that your digits had all but numbed. Turn... one...two...three... The footsteps were distancing from the hall your attention had been set upon. A T-section, where the entity had gone down and away from your destination. You had to cross that 'T' to get to the junction--where you needed to leave a note completely undetected. The slightest mis-step would lead to suspicion. Suspicion would lead to investigation. Investigation lead to the five percent chance they could find that note--and no percentage was too small. It all hinged on absolute perfection. Nine...ten...eleven... This was their fifth round. A patrol. You had to make sure their movement were predictable before this would work--despite having successfully delivered the note fourty-two times and counting--you did not have the luxury of assumption. Only if their stride was even, only if you absolutely knew they were moving at a certain pattern, could you depend on the following information: It took fifteen steps before they would reach the broken light on their route. The haze of the dust and pollutants reflected in the working lights prior to that was your cover. Cross the 'T', leave the note, and cross it again. Out of sight and out of earshot, mission successful. Fourteen... f-- You turn, and it takes three steps to arrive at the drop to the tracks. You bunch and leap, and even the quietest friction of fabric from your uniform creases your brow. You land, just outside of the light's reach on the thin concrete slab beyond. Your eyes track the metals, the jutting wall tiles; that with which the barest touch could emit a sound--and you maneuver around them. Under, creeping low--and over, leaping to land on the balls of your feet and checking your balance before moving forward. Careful to not cast a shadow into the hall. Paced, so as not to move too quickly nor too slowly. Counting, because every second was controlled and calculated. You reach the juncture, and once again

edging the light you propel yourself to land back on the main thoroughfare. The next obstacle--removing the loose brick. Behind a metal bench centered between two closed-in stair cases, where the tile meets what had once been a decorative brick mosaic; eight bricks right and eighteen bricks up, was your note's destination. Just above your head, where you had to bend at an awkward angle to reach. Not practical, less detectable. You're wearing tight fabric gloves with grips on the pads, but thin enough you can feel the texture of the brick as you gently lace your fingers at each of the corners. Lifting, centering, and pulling the brick from its slot. Holding it just right, you can avoid the loud scrapes and grinds--but you have to hold it perfectly centered. Success. In goes the note. As does the brick, back into the wall. But you're only half-way done. Leap. Quiet, maneuver, avoid, measure. Silent. Leap. Hide. You're back is once again at the wall, the footsteps of the lackey you'd been avoiding closing in proximity to the Hall you'd just left. Four... five... six... Your eyes focus on the wall opposite of you as you ground yourself. The next few seconds determined a new reality. Either they followed their pattern, or they didn't. You had to be flexible. No assumptions. If they move towards the junction, you have to follow. If they move towards you, you'd calculate on your feet. Seven... eight... nine.. Turn. ...one...two...three.. You don't relax. Even after you count their steps to fifteen, even as you slip away back through the hall, even as you exit the unattended vent and breathe in fresh air--you don't relax until you're sitting on the floor in your room, calming down, your mask in your hands. After checking to make sure your door had not been opened, and no one had looked for you. No tracks in the dust. Only then do you allow yourself to ruminate on the contents of the note you had written, because you could still see every letter of it in your mind. ------ 55-1, Minami Senju 5-chome, Musutafu Target: Fukui Mitsuo Floor 8 3 AM. 7. Accompanied. Head. ------ For the briefest moment, you feel your hands shake. They always did on these nights. Realistically, you'd left no openings. Tested and re-tested every method. Calculated every movement. Left nothing to chance. But the 'what-if's' still linger, and you let them. The fear is good. It keeps you on your toes, your mind on edge, your tongue to the roof of your mouth. If he found out, you wouldn't know it until it was over. So you pretended he already did. Below you, underground in his base, plotting how to get at you when you were most vulnerable. Tear you to pieces, throw you in a pit or in a cage. No--too risky, he'd just kill you. A dead-end is better than a possibility. You'd learned that from him. You swallow, head turning so the amber morning sky is in your peripheral. All things considered, you would still unfortunately need sleep. You cherished the brief moments of sunlight and let your mind swim in the memories of your childhood spent in the daytime; before retiring to the broken and borrowed mattress. Seven days. You would check the location of your note in two. If there is another note in response, you would create a reactionary plan. The pattern continues. Until he finds out. ...Until he finds out.

#Bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x y/n #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #bnha #bnha fanfic #slow burn romance #bnha fanfic slowburn #bakugou x f!reader #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero fanfiction #bakugou x you

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bakugoulovesme · 3 years

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Bakugou x Reader

Title: Long Story Short

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, various pro heroes (mentioned), original character (who is not the reader)

Word Count: 2,783

Warnings: mentions of toxic ex, passing out, hospital visits (dw it’s all good), gross fluff

Summary: You had a terrible breakup that made you stop hero work. Now, three years later, you are dating Bakugou Katsuki and you jump back in the saddle.

A/N: Pro hero au! Lmao guys be nice I haven’t written a full fic since 2018.. oof... request headcanons pleeeaaaseee <3 (OOOH OOOH also this is the first of a very tentative series of stories based on Taylor Swift’s albums Evermore and Folklore,, AND this was crossposted on ao3)

You told yourself never again on a night much like this one, three years ago. You remember it all very distinctly. Nyx had already promised you a change of pace, somewhere as far away from him as you could get. They were standing behind you on the rooftop, a good few paces back. It was considerate, really: giving you space so that you could have your moment of dramatic catharsis. You remember bouncing on your toes once before sparring a glance over your shoulder at them. The blank motorcycle helmet that was a staple of their hero costume stared back at you, emotionless. They offered you a single nod. You turned forward again, facing the wind. You turned the ring over and over in your hand for a few more minutes, longer than you wanted to. It seemed cliché to you even then, when the wound was still so fresh, to get rid of the ring in such an over the top way. But damn, if it didn’t feel absolutely amazing.

And tonight you are standing atop the roof of that twenty-story building again. And Nyx, lovely Nyx, is standing behind you with their expressionless motorcycle helmet boring into your soul and their harrowing silent wisdom making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I’m not so sure that I’m ready,” you say after a beat. Your hero costume feels strikingly familiar and foreign all that at the same time. You play with the waistband of the jumpsuit absentmindedly.

“I am,” they say as if it is the easiest thing in the world. Don’t they know how hard this is? Shouldn’t they of all people understand? “And he is, too.”

They got you. They always do.

You heave a sigh—no turning back now. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that you can do this, that you are in fact a capable hero. Three years. You haven’t done this in three years.

Fuck. Can you do this? What if…

“I know what you're thinking,” Nyx says, allowing emotion to seep into their tone for the first time tonight. “And, I hate to break it to you, but… you are already doing it.”

“This is barely a patrol,” you grumble.

“Not a traditional one, no, but remember you’re still in your trial period. You are technically only my sidekick right now.” You don’t need to see the expression Nyx is wearing to be certain that they are smiling.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

The universe does not leave you much time to wallow in self-pity. Less than half an hour later, there’s a call. A building is collapsing. The number four hero, Edgeshot, has already taken care of the villain responsible, so it is time for clean-up duty: your specialty. All in a matter of thirty seconds, you shove your helmet onto your head (it matches the one Nyx sports; all of their sidekicks wear them) and run to grab onto Nyx as they teleport you to the scene. Gone is the gentle night air; here, everything is hot. The villain must be using some quirk-enhancing drug. (The damage they caused in their dragon form puts Ryukyu to shame.) Several voices chatter into your ears at once filling you and Nyx in. Nyx was gone the second they dropped you off, working as fast as they could to teleport people out of the upper floors of the building.

Adrenaline pushes you forward but you are stopped quickly, debris already blocking your path into the ground level of the building. Luck must be on your side tonight because you can see the number two hero, Hawks, fly in as he uses his feathers to aid in the evacuation. You feel comfortable enough to ask Nyx through the helmet to get you inside. And they do. You could not imagine how disorienting it must be for them because, after just your second leap of the night, you are incapacitated for at least fifteen seconds.

When the world rights itself again, you realize you have already put your shield up to protect yourself from the smoke. It does not take long to find the group of survivors to the left of you, trying—and failing—to break out of a crumbled window. You see eighteen at first glance, but as you approach, you can see a group of children, four of them all huddled together. Twenty-two, then. You drop your shield as you approach them. “Help is here,” you inform them, attempting to keep your sentences short so your helmet will translate them faster.

“Now, everyone remain calm. Everything will be okay.” Any doubts you had earlier have been seared away. You are met with thankful sobs and incoherent clambering. You direct them to stand around you, as close as they can fit. The children are lifted into their parent’s arms as everyone scrambles forward. As soon as all twenty-two are comfortably within range, you activate your quirk again. One of the children lets out an awed gasp at the buzzing bubble of blue energy that has formed.

You find yourself smiling.

“What do we do now?” An older woman asks incredulously, her entire body shaking in fear.

“We wait.” She opens her mouth to retort, but you continue. “Once the upper floors of the building and the surrounding block are completely evacuated, I will get us out of here.”

“Are you sure you can do it, Miss Hero?” A little girl asks. “My Daddy says heroes can’t really do anything...”

Her father has the decency to look horrified, but you just laugh. You crouch down to make eye contact with her, “I’m very sure I can do it. Do you wanna know why?”

She leans away from her father slightly, turning towards you with her eyes full of stars. It takes you a second to reply as you get the go-ahead that everything is clear. Perfect.

“Because… you are going to help me, of course!” You exclaim, removing your helmet. This forces you to use the translator that you wear around your neck which is not as loud (or clear), but you think it’s a good trade-off. The adults (and the other children) who were momentarily distracted hearing you speak to the little girl will need the comfort of a human face for the next part, this much you are sure. You gesture for the girl to be put down and you take her hand in one of your glowing ones. A little boy wriggles out of his mother’s grasp and grabs your other hand. You beam.

“Now you two have a very important job: you have to keep everyone brave!”

“How we s’posed to do dat?” The boy asks.

“Simple. You will walk with me in the front, okay? We can even sing a little song so everyone knows to keep walking,” you explain with a smile, more genuinely happy than is probably appropriate. The other children wrestle themselves out of their parent’s arms and grab their hands fiercely, ready to help drag them along. The pair holding your hands only take a minute to consider before nodding solemnly.

The boy leads the little marching tune as you calmly begin leading everyone towards the front of the building. It’s at the moment that your shield touches the front wall that the building comes down. Hard.

So much for raining small chunks, the full weight of the building crashes down around you. It makes you lightheaded, but you force yourself not to show any distress. You just keep walking, hunks of the building being forced out around the bubble. Suddenly though, something smacks into your shield from the inside and you lurch forward. Your eyes screw shut as you focus completely on regaining control.

“Daddy!” The little girl yells as she pushes past the group to reach her father, still frozen in shock against the farthest side of the bubble. You didn’t even feel her drop your hand... Before you can contemplate the fate of your other small charge. The boy squeezes your hand tight. You turn to look at him and smile. One hand grips yours and the other grips a younger girl, his sister you presume, who is latched onto their mother, as well.

You are more out of it than you realize because in no time at all, the girl is back holding your hand, dragging her father behind her. He looks sickly pale. Deep breath. “Everything’s okay. Almost over. Everyone please just keep being brave for me,” you say, squeezing the kids’ hands.

You close your eyes again and put everything you have into walking normally. Pushing. Pushing. It feels like you let the smoke in; there doesn’t seem to be enough air for you. You can’t remember feeling this tired, at least not in a long time. Just as you reach your limit—when you are certain you are going to fail to leave all these people to get tragically smushed—there is loud cheering. Huh?

You force your eyes open. Floodlights. People. Ambulances. Reporters descending upon the lot of you, now that the danger has passed. You can finally breathe. You drop the shield and fall to your knees.

Hmm. The ground is warm, and a lot more comfortable than you could have ever imagined. Your last thought before you blackout completely is a barely coherent image of cats rolling around on the warm concrete.

All you can hear is his voice.

For a second, the sound tricks you. You must be in your bed, at home. The heart monitor comes in second. A wave of nausea hits you as the disorientation sets in. You try to open your eyes but decide against it immediately. You don’t think your eyelids so much as fluttered, how could they when they weigh a thousand pounds each?

His voice is what grounds you again, makes you feel more centered. You think you might even be able to tell which way is up. You can hear him but you can’t hear him. Your brain is much too full of mush at the moment to hear anything with clarity. Everything feels sloshy; even still you attempt to move your hand towards the sound of his voice. As soon as you begin moving, his hands have met yours and his voice is softer. You still can’t hear him but you can feel him. His hands, as always, are hot and sweaty. You had always thought your hands were the hottest and the sweatiest, that is until you met Bakugou.

“Ka-” you try to speak but your voice is much too hoarse from disuse.

“Teddy bear,” you can finally hear him, “are you okay?”

You rumble in agreement and make a great effort to move your head in a gentle nod. He makes you regret agreeing all within a second. Now he is yelling and your eyes are all but forced open at the sound of it.

“Katsuki,” you groan.

“What the fuck were you thinking running into a collapsing building, dumbass? You’re still just a fucking sidekick.”

You huff feeling a little more like yourself the longer you hear him talk. “That’s just a technicality.”

“Regardless, I…” Katsuki lets out a deep growl, “you fucking scared me, teddy bear.”

“I’m sorry, Katsu” is all you can think to say as he cups your cheek and leans forward to rest his forehead against your own. You revel in the closeness, even the skin of his forehead is hot against you.

“I hope you know you aren’t off the hook, idiot, but I am really proud of you,” the glare he fixes you with doesn’t match his words.

You can’t stop yourself from beaming.

“So, how much time before you get back to being that dumbass’s sidekick?” He asks as he spares a glance from the road to look at you leaned up against the window in the passenger's seat.

“I should be good to go by Monday, believe it or not.”

The look he gives you tells you he doesn’t.

“I’ll call the doctor if you want,” you insist. You ignore the rush of nausea that hits you as you sit up and give him an indignant look.

He rolls his eyes. He takes a hand off the wheel to push you gently back so you’re resting against the window again. You sigh in relief at the feeling of the cool glass on your cheek. You can see him worry his lip a bit before he bites out, “I believe you.”

“Hmm I don’t know about that,” you start, “but, I meant it when I said me being a sidekick is just a technicality. I was a big hero before I ever came to Japan and met you.”

He huffs. Regardless, he nods his head in agreement. He does know that you were a big hero. An annoyingly selfless one too, that’s what got you hurt in the first place. He doesn’t say anything more though, he’s happy enough to let you fall asleep with the words to some stupid song on your lips. Even if he wasn’t driving he would be wide awake. Seeing you fall to the ground like that made him sick.

He shudders. He really thought he was ready for you to start hero work again, but… Seeing you like that was a lot to handle. Almost too much. He knows it’s hard for you too. You’ve had to watch him throw himself into danger countless times at this point. He hasn’t figured out how you handle the stress with such grace. He can practically see the look you would give him if he said that to you, he can practically hear your voice assuring him that the way you handle it is anything but graceful. Why is he imagining this conversation? He could be having it with you. It’s not like you’re dead or--

“Katsu, you’re going to get wrinkles if all you do is frown all the time. You’ll look like my Grampy,” you laugh as his frown deepens, “Really, babe, what’s wrong?”

He replies immediately, “Nothing. We’re almost home.”

“I know, but don’t think you can escape a conversation about whatever this,” you gesture at him vaguely, “Whatever this is.”

He growls as he pulls into the parking garage for the apartment building, but he decides not to comment. Instead, he takes the opportunity to tease you and poke at your ribs as he helps you toward the door.

Walking mixed with the impromptu tickle fight leaves you weaker than you thought you would be. You almost eat shit in the elevator when he lets go of you for just a second to punch the button to your floor. “Fuck, baby, are you okay?” He launched toward you as soon as you wobbled, catching you with his strong arms around your waist securely.

You groan softly and bury your face in his chest as the elevator starts to move. “I am now,” you say muffled as you nuzzle your face against his pecs.

“Perv,” he spits out, pushing your face away while still keeping an arm around you to keep you upright. He has to drag you down the hall to your shared apartment because you are so stubborn: refusing to be carried while being virtually unable to walk. He knows that’s a large part of why he loves you so his griping is lighthearted.

He leads you to the couch and plops you down onto the cushions. “You stay here. I mean it. I’m going to make that dumb recipe your mom told me about,” he says. He turns shuffling off to find his apron.

Your stomach turns, but this time in a much more pleasant way. He’s so fucking cute sometimes it makes you sick. Warmth settles over you as you pull the burgundy throw blanket over your shoulders and lie your head down on the scratchy decorative pillows. Everything feels a million times more comfortable now that you are comparing it to the impersonal feeling of a hospital bed.

Well, now everything feels different. Hero work felt different. Talking to Nyx felt different. Waking up in a hospital bed too, didn’t feel as hollow as you remember. You know it’s because of the idiot you can hear maneuvering around the kitchen. He makes everything feel exciting, it’s nothing like before. The apartment is warm, and the couch is a lot more comfortable than you could have ever imagined. As you fall asleep for the first of many sorely needed naps you think of the yearly fireworks your town had as a kid and how alive you felt listening to them. In the other room, Katsuki sparks off a mini-explosion to light the stove.

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