#this post is courtesy of my brain being rude and my never ending feeling of not being trans enough bc of not transitioning or

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (18)

(Hey, everyone! I have an announcement to make! After posting this chapter, I am going to be taking a temporary leave due to family matters. They’re fun family matters, so don’t worry! but they will prevent me from writing any further chapters at this time. I plan to post the next chapter on June 27th. Sorry for the long wait! That’s just how things worked out, but I hope I’ll get to see you all then, and please enjoy this new update! Feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called Journal Entries!)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 17 / Ch. 19 (ao3)

Chapter 18: It’s the Little Moments

Felix grumbled to himself as he picked up his tie to pull it around his neck. Valentine’s Day parties were bad enough already with all of the love-sick couples that tended to crowd around him throughout the evening. Did he really have to further his torment by dressing up as well? His previous suit was perfectly fine for an event such as this. Fashionable, sleek, formal- there was no reason to change. Especially when it came to this ridiculous, unseemly-

“Oh, lighten up.” His mother told him, shooing his hands away so she could tie the tie herself. “It’s just a Valentine’s Day suit, and you’re wearing it for one night. There’s no need to scowl over it. I’m sure the other boys will be wearing some form of pink too.”

Felix scoffed. “Mother, don’t patronize me. You know I don’t care about the pink color. It’s the fact that you’re dressing me up to match the theme.”

Bridgette eyed him. “And?  You’re supposed to match the theme for parties. That’s why it’s called a theme.”

“But if I match the theme, other girls at the party will probably think I approve of the theme too.” Felix argued. “And then they’ll be asking me to dance or trying to talk with me in general. I’ll have to spend the entire evening trying to shoo them off.”

A laugh tumbled from his mother’s lips. “Aw~, it must be so exhausting having all of the girls fall in love with you.”

Felix shot her a flat look. “Would you want to spend an evening rejecting people?”

Bridgette tilted her head in a nod. “I’ll give you that one, but you know Allegra could always scare them off if they become too overbearing.”

Felix blew out a relenting sigh. He supposed that was true.

“Besides, even if the girls are chasing you, you still need to look nice Marinette, don’t you?”

Felix furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “No? Marinette’s not going to care what I look like, so long as I’m not a fashion disaster, that is.”

Which, in this suit, he might very well be, to be honest. Perhaps he should text her a warning.

“I thought you two were supposed to be going on a fake date tonight.” His mother replied, tugging lightly on Felix’s tie to straighten it.

Felix’s gaze snapped to her. “Where did you hear that?”

Bridgette chuckled, offering him a teasing glance as she said, “Oh, please. You know Allegra and I talk.”

Felix tisked and rolled his shoulders, making sure his suit wasn’t too tight. Of course Allegra would mention that ridiculous suggestion to his mother. Those two loved to gossip together, specifically about him.

“Well, we’re not.” He remarked, leveling out the annoyance in his tone. “That was just some frivolous idea that Claude came up with the other day.”

“Really? I thought the idea sounded rather exciting.”

Felix resisted the urge to scoff again. Her too? “Why on earth would it be exciting? You galivant around with someone, probably doing the exact same thing you would do with them on a normal basis, but you call it a ‘fake date’ for what? A good laugh when someone assumes you’re a real couple? I can’t wrap my brain around the reasoning.”

Another chuckle came from Bridgette. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t, but consider this: If you and Marinette pretend you’re dating for the evening, you might not have so many girls coming to ask you for a dance.”

Felix paused, his eyes widening slightly. That.. actually wasn’t such a bad idea. He might even consider it if the thought of asking Marinette didn’t sound so incredibly arrogant. ‘Would you mind being my fake date to help me escape the supposed hoards of girls who are going to chase after me tonight?’ You can’t convince him that that proposal didn’t sound anything less than tacky. She’d probably tease him about it the whole night.

“If it bothers you so much, though,” his mother spoke again, “why not ask Marinette out on a real date?”

Felix sputtered a bit at the comment, blurting out a bewildered, “Excuse me?”

Don’t get him wrong, Marinette was an extraordinary person and anyone who ended up with her would undoubtedly be lucky, but the very thought of him asking her out on a date felt.. strange. He couldn’t imagine asking her for anything more than what she was giving him right now, and he didn’t think there was anything she’d want from him when it came to a relationship anyway. Their dynamic was comfortable as it was. Why should they try to complicate things?

“Alright, alright, I was just asking.” his mother assured, almost seeming to laugh as she did. “You two are only friends. I understand.”

Something about the smile in her eyes told him that she didn’t understand, but he simply glanced to the side, electing to ignore it. Arguing wouldn’t change her mind either way, and in the end it was just a question. His friendship with Marinette wasn’t going to change over it, because neither of them harbored romantic feelings for each other. He was perfectly content to keep it that way. 

~~~~~~

Marinette stood in front of her vanity mirror, twisting her hair into a side ponytail for the fifth time that evening. She’d spent the last hour trying over and over again to perfect the hairstyle, but she could never seem to get it right. The ponytail was always too lopsided or too messy or the braid tied into it would begin to unwind. Now, the ponytail was tied tightly enough, but the braid was crooked, and there were too many stray hairs flying around for it to look neat. How can she still be struggling after practicing this for an hour?

“Ugh! I give up!” She huffed, throwing her hands down and staring ruefully at her nearly knotted locks. This is what she gets for taking the easy route and always putting her hair in pigtails. “I’m just going to stay home.”

“No, don’t do that!” Tikki quickly spoke up, flying to her holder’s side. “You’ve worked too hard on your dress to stay home! And your hair really doesn’t look all that bad. I’m sure no one will think twice about it.”

Marinette tisked, plopping into her rolling chair and crossing her arms. “But I’ll think about it, Tikki, and I’ll be more self-conscious than I was going to be before.”

Tonight wasn’t just a Valentine’s Day party for Marinette. That was mainly what it was, of course, but she also saw it as a sort of debut. With the amount of time she spent hanging around Allegra and Claude and the others, she hadn’t had time to truly meet her other classmates at Rosemary, but tonight, they would all be gathered together for her convenience and she would finally have a chance to introduce herself to the school as a whole. It was exhilarating.. and a tad frightening. She’d seen plenty of students in passing that appeared to be less than friendly. How were they going to react to her? Were they going to be as sweet as her current friends? Or did she happen to run into the best group in the school first? There was no telling.

“Try not to overthink it.” Her kwami said softly, though they both knew she would. “Why don’t you try a different hairstyle?”

“Because I don’t know any other hairstyles.” Marinette sighed. “Well.. I know a bun, I guess, but I really wanted this hairstyle for tonight. I feel like it would really bring the dress together, you know?”

“It would.” Tikki agreed. “And it does. But if you think you can’t figure it out-”

“Marinette! Felix is here to pick you up!”

Panic seized Marinette’s chest at the call, and she leapt out of her chair to look in the mirror again. Felix was there already? The party wasn’t for another thirty minutes! Why did he always have to be early? 

“Uh- j-just a second, Maman!” She called back, frantically trying to straighten her braid and smooth the wisps of hair around her ponytail. It didn’t work, unfortunately, so she threw a silver pin in her hair as a last ditch effort and made her way downstairs, trying not to whimper too much.

“Oh, Marinette, you look wonderful!” Her mother cooed as Marinette descended the stairs. “I need to go get Tom. Oh, and a camera!”

Marinette pulled a wince. They were going to have photo evidence of this failure of a hairstyle? 

“Maman, are you sure that’s necessary? I get dressed up like this all the time.” She tried to dissuade, but Sabine merely waved off her comment. 

“Of course it is! This is your first party at Rosemary. We must have pictures.”

“Best be prepared.” A voice cut in, catching Marinette’s attention immediately. “Claude will undoubtedly be thinking the same thing when we arrive.”

Marinette turned towards the front door with a smile, but a gasp escaped her when she saw Felix standing there. She knew it would be him, of course. She simply hadn’t expected him to be wearing a different outfit. 

“You..” She paused, briefly wondering if it would be rude to finish, then continued, “you changed your suit.”

Logically, she knew he had more than one suit. No one can wear the same suit forever, and Felix seemed to be too proper to do it even if he could. However, when he didn’t wear his usual suit, he continued to maintain the black and grey color scheme, so it never quite stuck with her that he’d changed. Tonight, though, his suit was entirely red, so deep a red that she might acquate it with blood, and he had a wonderfully pink tie on, along with a pink cloth folded in his front vest pocket to complement it. The sight nearly knocked her off her feet. He was even matching the party’s theme! She didn’t think he cared for things such as that.

A smirk ghosted Felix’s lips, and he nodded. “Yes, courtesy of my mother. I see you changed your hair as well.”

A blush crept across her cheeks, and Marinette reached up to feel how horrible the hairstyle was again. Here Felix was, doing his best and looking great as always, and she was just standing there looking like a mess. Typical.

“O-Oh, yeah, I mean.. I tried to change it. I don’t think it worked out too well..” She muttered, glancing down at the ground. Maybe she still had time to take it out before they left? 

Felix’s footsteps brought her gaze back upwards, and she watched him cross the room to her. His eyes were squinted ever-so-slightly, the way they always were when he was pondering something, and once he was close enough, he reached out, his hand lightly tracing over the side braid she’d attempted. 

Marinette stood still, allowing him to ‘examine’ her for a moment before saying, “It’s awful, isn’t it? I couldn’t get anything to stay where it was supposed to.”

Felix hummed absently, bringing his hand down to let the tip of her ponytail slide off of his fingertips. “No, not awful. If you practice a few more times, I’m sure it would be perfect.”

Marinette blew out a small sigh. That meant it wasn’t perfect now.

“Do you have the reference you used? If I see it, I might be able to straighten the braid out before we leave at least.” Felix inquired, causing Marinette’s eyes to widen. Oh?

“You know how to do hair?”

“Not quite,” he admitted, “but I learned some of the basics during a few sleepovers. For some reason, Claude and Allegra thought it important that I had a decent grasp on the subject.”

A smile came to Marinette’s lips. That sounded like something they would do. “And you think you can fix my hairstyle from your limited knowledge?”

“Possibly, if you have reference,” Felix smirked, “but it’s alright if you prefer to keep what you have.”

“Oh no, please.” Marinette said, quickly pulling her phone out of her heart shaped purse. “Anything’s probably better than what I have in now. Are you sure we have time, though?”

Felix nodded. “I always leave around ten or fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, so we should have plenty of time.”

Marinette nodded as well and opened the reference video she’d used for her hairstyle. Felix took the phone from her and watched it once or twice as she pulled out the pins in her hair. Then, when everything was down again, Felix handed the phone back to her and let it play in her hands for a third time while he set to work. His fingers brushed through her hair, carefully separating the different locks and tying them together. The feeling behind it was quite strange, mostly because she could hardly feel it at all. His hands were so gentle, so cautious that even when he had to tug on her hair to tighten the braid, it seemed as light as a cloud. Felix was always soft like that. He spoke harshly to others and liked to scowl often, but when it came to his actions, she couldn’t recall a single time he’d been rough. 

Recently, she’s been hearing that secret softness in his voice too, and it never failed to make her smile. 

“Aw, did her hair fall out?”

Sabine’s voice brought the two’s gaze to the living room doorway. She was standing there with Tom, a camera in her hands and a slight, disappointed frown on her lips.

“No, I took it out.” Marinette assured over her shoulder. “Felix offered to do the hairdo himself so it would look better.”

“Oh, how gentlemanly of him.” Tom chimed in with a satisfied smile. 

“Do you mind if I get a picture?” Sabine requested, prepping the camera in her hands.

“Uh..” Marinette looked to Felix as best she could. “Are you okay with that?”

“I don’t mind.” Felix shrugged. “Mother already bombarded me with pictures before I left. What’s a few more?”

Marinette chuckled. “You said she was the one who gave you the suit right?”

“No, she’s the one who made me wear it.” Felix corrected. “Something about having to match the theme.”

“Ah, I see.” Marinette said. She should have known Felix wouldn’t throw away his black and grey color scheme willingly. “She has great taste. You’ll have to let me meet her sometime so I can tell her ‘thank you’.”

A playful scoff passed his lips and brushed against her ear. “You know, I’m sure she would be delighted to do just that.”

*Click!*

The camera flash brought the two’s attention back to Sabine and Tom, who were both holding giddy smiles at this point.

“I think you both look fantastic.” Tom grinned. “Those boys will be falling over each other to get to Marinette tonight, I’m sure.”

Felix hummed as he twisted her hair to pin it into a side ponytail, muttering, “I quite agree.”

The comment was soft and absent, and it sent a blush exploding across Marinette’s face. That’s the second time he’s agreed to her being pretty and a supposed ‘boy magnet’. Does he ever think about what he’s saying or is it just some logical fact to him that shouldn’t mean anything? She’s not sure which one she prefers. 

“Done.” 

Felix’s hands fell back to his sides, and Marinette reached up to feel the hairstyle- gently, though, so as not to mess it up. The pull of the bobby pins was comfortable and tight, and her braid felt nice and straight as she grazed her fingers over it. Overall, it felt perfect, which was exactly what she’d wanted.

“Thanks, Felix.” She said, offering him a quick smile as she checked the reflection in her phone. “It looks great. You’re a life-saver.”

“And you two are going to be late if you don’t hurry up.” Her maman cut in. “Now gather together for a picture so we can send you off.”

Marinette rolled her eyes with a smile and tucked her phone back in her purse, then turned to stand next to Felix. He, in turn, straightened slightly next to her and clasped his hand behind his back for the picture.

“Alright, say cheese!” Sabine coaxed, holding up her camera.

The pair smiled. “Cheese!”

*Click!*

~~~~~~~

Claude’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he watched his fellow Rosemary students pile into the Mandarin Oriental. As usual, people of all shapes and sizes were here. The ‘cool’ kids, the music kids, the nerd kids, the geeks, the dancers- anyone and everyone who had a popular status at the school, along with a good group of others who counted as the stalking crowd. The younger, less-popular students who tended to follow the social hierarchies like loyal dogs. The ‘baby paparazzis’, if you will. They were all crowding inside with an urgency that only his- and Allegra and Allan and Marinette and Felix’s -parties could bring. Soon, Marinette and Felix will be there as well, and then the fun will really begin.

“Alright, Marinette just texted.” Allegra spoke up behind him. She was currently hovering around the buffet table to ensure the punch drinks were being dispersed properly. Claude, of course, was hovering around Allegra in case she needed his help with anything. 

“She said they’re parking now.” His ‘fake date’ continued, glancing over her phone screen as she re-read the text. “You remember what to do, right?”

Claude huffed out a playful scoff, reaching for the platter of shrimp as he replied, “Of course I do. Take her onto the dance floor to help her get comfortable in the ‘party atmosphere’, convince her to dance with Felix while you convince Felix to dance with her, and-”

Allegra slapped his hand, coaxing a yelp from the brunette.

“Don’t touch the shrimp until the other guests have some first.” She scolded.

Claude rubbed his hand with a pout. So touchy. Why should he have to wait for the guests to eat? If they wanted shrimp, they should come up and get some. Why can’t he have the food that he helped pay for? (Well, the food that his parents helped pay for.)

“And keep your voice down too.” Allegra added, flipping her hair over her shoulder when it fell in the way. Wearing it in a half-up-half-down style wasn’t nearly as convenient as her casual braid, but he had to admit, the free curls that fell around her shoulders were extremely nice. “Do you know the amount of people here who would love to get their grubby little hands on the fact that we’re trying to set stubborn, stuck-up, stone-faced Felix with the new, cotton-candy-sweet, bakery-girl Marinette? The gossip would reach both of them within seconds.”

“Yeah, it probably would.” He agreed. “But at least they’ll both know they like each other then. Saves us the trouble, right?”

Allegra shot him a flat look, meaning he probably said something wildly inaccurate again.

“Claude, the only gossip that would be spreading would be the fact that we’re trying to get them together. Not that they like each other. How do you think Felix is going to react when he realizes we’re playing matchmaker? What about Marinette? I think they’d probably be a little uncomfortable considering neither of them probably think that the other person likes them. Which is why we decided to be subtle about this in the first place.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yes, it does.” Allegra said, crossing her arms. “So keep your voice down when talking about it from now on, please.”

Claude nodded, leaning back on the buffet table as he faced the crowd again. “Sure, sorry.”

This was going to be a tough evening, trying to get Marinette and Felix together while not blurting the scheme out to the world. He just felt like everything would be easier if they simply talked to each other about it openly. But Allegra was more perceptive than he was. She probably knew things he didn’t about the situation. So he’ll go along with her plan and hope it works out. 

Besides, this way he gets to mess with Felix as much as he wants. And he won’t get scolded, this time! 

And if everything does work out, Marinette and Felix will be all the happier for it.

Win-win-win-win.

“Hey, guys.” Allan spoke up, joining them at the table and swiping a shrimp. “Do you know if Felix and Marinette are here yet? I haven’t seen them.”

Allegra opened her mouth to scold him about the shrimp as she had Claude, but Allan popped it into his mouth before she could. Claude held back a snort, watching Allegra purse her lips in annoyance. If he couldn’t have a shrimp, at least Allan got one.

“They’re on their way up now.” The blonde replied with narrowed eyes, unbeknownst to Allan. “They just parked a few minutes ago.”

“Cool. We’re still having Claude do his thing, right?”

“Yep.” Claude said, a devilish grin spreading across his lips. “And I am so ready to cause mischief.”

Allegra snorted and lightly nudged him in the arm. “Not too much mischief. This is supposed to be romantic, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Claude waved her off. “I’ll get them to be romantic. After I get to mess with them.”

“Claude-”

“Oh- there they are! Hey, guys!” 

Claude perked up at the interruption, the familiar voice drawing his gaze to the front of the Mandarin Oriental. It was the very voice they’d been waiting for, and the source wasn’t hard to find.

Marinette and Felix were making their way through the crowd towards them, Marinette clearly excited as she waved them down with a bright smile. The designer dress she was wearing looked fantastic, as Felix had predicted, and the hearts littering it matched the theme perfectly. She even had her hair all done up tonight! (Which really brought out the elegance of the dress, in his opinion.) An outfit like that was only going to make his job of setting up a romantic thought process between the two that much easier.

(Of course, with the way Felix was staring at Marinette right now, Claude had a feeling that that thought process might already be set up.)

“Hey!” he greeted, meeting the pair halfway to give Marinette a hug. Was it the flowers on the table or did this girl actually smell like roses tonight? Did she use a special perfume? Oh, Allegra was going to love this.

“You two look awesome! I was starting to think you’d never get here.” He teased, stepping back again to get a better view of her face. She decided to go with a pinker shade of lipstick tonight, along with a glittering, light pink eyeshadow, and it’s a wonder that Felix hasn’t collapsed from swooning at this point. (Though maybe Claude can catch that when the two dance later. The video footage would be priceless!)

Marinette let out a light laugh, touching the tip of her side ponytail with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. Felix was helping me with my hair.”

“Aw, Felix!” Allegra cooed, coming up behind Claude just then to join them. “You did Marinette’s hair? It looks lovely.”

“I knew those lessons would come in handy.” Claude smirked. 

“Yes, who would’ve guessed?” Felix muttered, briefly rolling his eyes, but Claude wasn’t fooled. He could hear the almost airy tone to Felix’s voice, see his eyes soften anytime he so much as glanced at Marinette. That guy had probably been ecstatic to do Marinette’s hair, and he just didn’t want to show it. 

He would, though.. Soon enough.

“Hey, guys.” Allan chimed in, finally joining them as well. “You both look great. I haven’t seen Felix wear that dark of red in a while.”

“Or red in general.” Allegra remarked with a smile. 

“Or pink.” Claude added, eyeing Felix’s shirt sleeves. “Actually, I haven’t seen you wear anything besides gray or black since Marinette had you wear that green, plaid shirt after the ‘flour incident’.”

“In other words.. Your mom made you wear that, didn’t she?” Allegra asked lightheartedly.

“Of course she did.” Felix said. “Why else would I wear it?”

“Well, I imagine you’d just want to look nice.” Claude joked, wrapping his arm around Felix’s shoulders and ignoring the blond’s scowl. “Either way, remind your mom how awesome she is for me when you get home.”

“I’m sure she already knows.” Felix replied curtly, shoving Claude’s arm off of him again.

A giggle brought Claude’s attention back to Marinette, who was now observing the party with sparkling interest.

“Everything looks incredible, you guys!” She nearly squealed. “The lights, the flowers, the food.. But I thought the party started at six. Did I get the times mixed up again?”

“No, it does- er, did.” Claude said. “People just get excited and like to get in as soon as they can.”

“Oh.” Marinette muttered, relief smoothing out her features. “So we’re not late?”

“Not at all. In fact..” Claude swept into a bow, offering his hand to her with a grin. “We were just about to start the dancing. Would you mind giving me the honors?”

A surprised laugh fell from Marinette’s lips. “Me? I thought Allegra was your ‘fake date’ for the evening.”

“She is, but I have to save the best for last, right?” Claude threw a wink at Allegra, who also let out a laugh and rolled her eyes. The slight blush on the her cheeks gave her away, though, and it caused his grin to widen.

Marinette gave an “Aw~.” and slipped her hand into his. “Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to dance with you.”

“Great!” Claude cheered, pulling her close. 

They glided onto the dance floor, quickly catching the attention of the room, and with that, the first part of the plan fell into place. Claude was dancing with Marinette. Now he needed to convince her to dance with Felix.

Out of the corner of his eye, Claude could already see Felix starting to flounder. He simply stood there, quietly watching them dance with that neutral expression of his and occasionally looking elsewhere. Without Marinette to anchor him in a room of people, the blond would no doubt resort to being a wallflower again and wander over to some corner. A nice, hidden corner where Allegra could easily- and discreetly -convince Felix to dance with Marinette. They all knew him too well.

“Are we the only ones dancing?” Marinette asked, bringing Claude’s attention back to her.

“For now,” he confirmed, “but someone has to start it, right? Look, they’re already joining in.”

“I guess that’s true..” Marinette said, glancing at the few couples that had indeed started to join them. “I don’t normally dance all that much, to be honest. So it’s a little weird for me to be the one starting it for once.”

Claude laughed and took a step back to spin her around. “Really? You’re a natural at it!”

“Oh, thanks. That’s a relief to hear.” Marinette smiled, hobbling into a spin.

“Course. But you know who else is a natural at it?”

Marinette hummed. “Let me guess.. Is it you?”

Claude snorted. “Well, duh, but I was actually talking about Felix.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Felix?”

“Yeah! He takes waltzing classes at the school and everything, but he never dances! Can you believe it?”

A chuckle passed Marinette’s lips. “Kind of. This is Felix we’re talking about. Maybe his mom wanted him to take dance lessons like she wanted him to wear that tuxedo.”

“Maybe.. But it’s still a shame to waste such carefully crafted skills. You should try to get him to dance tonight.”

Marinette snorted. “Oh? And who would I get him to dance with? He doesn’t like getting close to random people.” 

Claude hummed. “Now, that’s a question, isn’t it? Who should dance with Felix tonight..” 

He made a show of looking around the dance floor as he and Marinette waltzed in a circle, then looked back to her. “..Why don’t you dance with him?”

Marinette nearly tripped over her own two feet at the suggestion, and Claude had to hold back a smile. Was she getting flustered? That’s a good sign.

“You want me to.. Are you sure he’d be comfortable with that? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even want to dance.”

“Come on, who else could get Felix to dance?” Claude insisted. “He’ll say yes if it’s you, and we can’t let him be a wallflower forever.”

Marinette let out a soft laugh, looking quite bashful as a blush curled onto her cheeks, and she glanced over at Felix. He was already standing next to the wall near the punch bowl, looking idle as he watched the dancing crowd. 

“I don’t know, Claude. I think he rather enjoys being a wallflower.”

Claude chuckled. “Just say you’ll try? At the very least, it’ll make Allegra happy to see Felix out and about.”

Marinette turned her attention back to him and smiled. “..Alright. I guess I’ll try, but no promises about actually getting him to dance.”

“Deal.” Claude grinned. Mission success!

“On an entirely different note, though, your dress is incredible. You made that yourself, right?”

Marinette brightened and nodded. “Yes, I did! I had lots of fun with it so I’m glad you guys like it.”

“Aw, I’m pretty sure I’d like anything you make. You always put a cool twist on things.” Claude smiled. “By the way, how’s my prince suit coming along? Have you started it yet?”

“I have! It’s actually pretty close to being done. I’m on the ‘details’ stage.”

A gasp of delight escaped him. He hadn’t realized how close she was to finishing it! 

“Oh, sweet! You’re gonna have to come over to my house when you finish it. We can even have a mini-fashion show for you!”

Marinette giggled. “That sounds like a blast.”

“Yes!” Claude briefly let go of Marinette’s waist to pump his fist. “Man, am I glad you came to Rosemary. I mean, not just because of the prince suit- even though that is pretty awesome -but also because you’re a fun person to be around, ya know? Everyone thinks so.”

“Really?” Marinette’s steps lagged slightly, clearly taken aback by the statement. “That’s.. Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

For a moment, she almost looked relieved.. Or even sad. But another blinding smile appeared before he could figure out why.

“I think you guys are fun to be around too.” She said warmly.

Claude smiled, feeling his uneasiness melt away. She didn’t sound sad or solemn at all. He was probably just imagining things, or seeing a trick of the light.

“Excuse me.”

Claude and Marinette slowed to a stop, turning to another boy who had come to interrupt them. 

“Mind switching off with me?” He asked, offering his hand to Marinette. Was that even allowed during an informal dance such as this?

Nevertheless, Claude caught Marinette’s eye. “What do you say, Mari? Wanna switch off?”

Marinette blinked. “Oh- uh -sure. If you’re okay with it.”

“Absolutely.” Claude smirked, jokingly spinning Marinette into the other boy’s arms. “Just don’t forget your promise to try!”

Marinette chuckled as she re-situated herself into the dance position. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Claude watched the two dance away, smiling proudly at the seed he’d sown for Marinette and Felix’s romantic evening. Allegra was surely going to be pleased with his work, and he was going to be pleased watching it unfold.

Now to get that shrimp.

~~~~~~~

Felix leaned against the wall, quietly observing the other party members dance, specifically Marinette. Her smile shined brightly as a boy twirled her, and her shoulders shook with giggles when the boy dipped her a second later. She appeared to be enjoying herself, and Felix was enjoying watching her. He had a feeling the other boys from Rosemary would be showering her with attention tonight- it was one of the rare times when she wasn’t being smothered by himself and the trio, after all -but he was admittedly surprised by the amount of stamina she possessed. It’d been at least an hour or two since the dancing started, yet she was still going as strong as ever, non-stop.

Well, he supposed it wasn’t non-stop. She had spun over to his little corner a few times to talk, which was how he ended up carrying two cups of punch instead of his one. Still, she should probably take a seat soon. Those heels she’d decided to wear were bound to be painful after a while. Perhaps he should grab her attention and find an empty table-

“U-um, excuse me, Felix?”

Felix glanced to his right, meeting the face of a girl that seemed vaguely familiar and a tad timid. She stood a certain distance away from him, her lips stretched into a nervous smile, and gave a little wave. Was that all she intended to do?  

“Can I help you?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Oh- well-” The girl faltered, as though she hadn’t expected to get this far, and rubbed her arm. “A-actually, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to.. Dance? With me. Of course.”

Ah, Felix thought, heaving a mental sigh. He should have known that that would be her intention. Now her visible anxiety made sense.

“Apologies, but I don’t dance.” He replied smoothly.

The girl’s shoulders sank. “Oh.. really? I thought you took waltzing classes at the school.”

Felix schooled a neutral expression, if only to avoid glaring. What, was she stalking him or something?

“I assure you they are for my Mother’s pleasure only, but I myself do not dance.” He said, a flatter note in his voice than before. Take the hint.

Thankfully, she did, but not in the way Felix was hoping.

“Ah, I see.. How about I keep you company then?” The girl suggested, getting entirely too comfortable next to him. “You’ve been over here by yourself for a while now.”

Felix’s grip on the cups tightened. So she was stalking him. 

“While I appreciate the gesture, it’s quite unnecessary. I’m simply waiting for my friend to get back.”

“Your friend?” The girl asked, glancing into the crowd curiously. “You mean the black-haired girl who gave you that drink, right?”

Felix held back another scowl, his eye twitching. Seriously, how long had this girl been watching him? Didn’t she have someone better to bother? There were plenty of other guys here that would be willing to dance or talk with her. Why did she have to choose to annoy him specifically?

“Her hair is raven, and yes, she’s the one that gave me this drink.” He responded curtly, taking a sip of his own punch.

The girl nodded thoughtfully, blissfully unaware of his thinning patience. “I guess her hair does have a blue shine to it. Do you want me to hold one of the drinks? I imagine they get heavy after a while.”

Felix pulled the drinks away from her grasp, finally fixing her with a look. 

I want you to mind your business, you little-

“Felix!”

Marinette’s punch was plucked from his hands, and an arm settled on his left shoulder. He whipped to the new interruption, thinking what now? and about ready to snap at someone, until he saw Allegra’s smiling face. She must have noticed him getting irritated and came over to investigate.

“You look like you’re having fun.” She said brightly, swirling Marinette’s punch in her hand. “Thanks for holding my drink for me.”

Felix winced, practically feeling the gears in the girl’s head turning. He’d just told her that the drink was Marinette’s, not Allegra’s. She was no doubt going to pick up on that. (Unless she was dimmer than he gave her credit for. That could always be a possibility.)

“Wait-” The girl said, her brows furrowing. Great. “Your drink? Felix just told me that that raven-haired girl gave him the drink.”

Felix gave Allegra a tired look. Try getting out of this one now.

At least she got Marinette’s hair color right that time.

Allegra ignored Felix’s look, instead throwing the girl a sharp smile. It was a rare sight to behold, but a welcome one. (So long as it wasn’t directed at him, of course.) It meant she was preparing herself to tear someone apart.

“Yes,” She replied shortly, “I gave the drink to Marinette, so she could give it to Felix. Is there a problem?”

The girl frowned. “But that doesn’t make any sense. I saw her-”

“You don’t believe me?” Allegra cut her off. “That’s rather rude to say to the hostess of the party, don’t you think? Go ask her yourself if you’re so skeptical. I wouldn’t recommend coming back to me afterwards, though.”

The girl huffed and crossed her arms, but turned around anyway, marching right off to a small group of girls that must have encouraged her to come talk with him in the first place. They swarmed her quickly, asking what happened and glaring at Allegra, but all Felix cared to do was take Marinette’s punch back from the blonde.

“I’m grateful, but I’m still going to need this back.” He said.

Allegra laughed and straightened to throw her hands in the air as a sign of surrender. “Fine with me. I didn’t realize you’d grown so attached to the beverage.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “I didn’t. You just might drink it by accident while we’re talking.”

Allegra tilted her head in a nod. “That’s a fair assumption. So what did that girl want from you?”

He sighed. “A dance. What else would people be asking me for at this ridiculous party?”

“Hey, it’s not ridiculous.” Allegra argued. “Marinette’s having a pretty good time.”

Felix’s gaze swept over the crowd again, finding Marinette easily as she switched off to a new dance partner. Her smile was contagious as always, and it spread onto Felix’s lips with little resistance.

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He agreed, taking another sip of his punch.

Allegra leaned against the wall next to him with a light chuckle. “You know, I bet if Marinette asked you to dance with her, you would.”

Felix scoffed at the implication her tone gave. Of course he would dance with Marinette if she asked, but only because it would make her happy, not because he wanted to dance with her. (Not that he particularly minded dancing with her either-)

“She wouldn’t ask me to dance,” he said before his thoughts could get out of hand, “because she knows I don’t fancy it.”

Allegra hummed. “Maybe you should ask her then.”

Felix shot her a look. This was going to be as tiresome as the other girl, wasn’t it?

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you need to not be a total wallflower this evening.” Allegra smiled. “And it would make Marinette happy. She’s already danced with Allan and Claude tonight, but with your professional lessons, I’m sure she’d have a blast.”

“I believe we just established that she is already having a blast.” Felix remarked, to which Allegra groaned.

“Just think about it, alright?”

“Unlikely.”

Why should he have to entertain an uncomfortable idea when Marinette was already enjoying herself? Granted, dancing with her didn’t sound awful, but the thought that it might encourage others to attempt dancing with him did. People were already asking him to dance while he was hiding near a wall. Imagine how many girls would come out of the woodwork once they actually saw him dancing.

Allegra rolled her eyes and waved him off. “Alright, whatever. I’m going back to the buffet table. Feel free to walk over if you start getting the urge to snap on someone again.”

Felix smirked. “In other words, I’ll see you in a few minutes?”

Allegra snorted as she walked away, and Felix settled back against the wall.. Just in time to see Marinette making her way towards him from the midst of the crowd. She appeared to be out of breath, though she offered him a tired smile when they locked eyes, and he moved forward to meet her halfway. That way she won’t have to trek all the way across the room for a drink.

“Are you finally taking another break?” He asked, handing her her punch when they joined at the edge of the crowd.

Marinette breathed out a laugh and took her drink with a “thanks”. It amazed him how well her outfit was staying together. The bow that held the dress together over her shoulders hadn’t loosened at all, and her hair seemed to be in place as well, save for a few stray strands. One would think that that amount of dancing would have her looking more disheveled.

“Yeah, just for a second.” She panted. “I’m starting to get dizzy from spinning so much.”

Felix chuckled. “Would you like to go find a table for a bit?”

“Uh..” Marinette glanced around the room for a moment, thinking it over. “You know what? Sure. I could sit for a bit.”

Felix smiled and gestured for her to lead the way, though he did point out an empty table that he had spotted earlier.

Marinette sat down first, with Felix pulling out her chair for her, and he sat down next to her. Their position faced the party rather than the wall, which allowed them- or at least Marinette -to continue enjoying the party atmosphere while they spoke.

“So are you having a decent time?” Marinette asked, taking a quick sip of her punch. “I know parties aren’t your thing, but you’re not too miserable, right?”

A bitter laugh escaped him, and he twirled his cup on the table as he said, “Miserable is certainly a good word to describe this evening.”

“Aw~, I’m sorry. Do you think going out to get some air would help?”

Felix offered her a smile. “That sounds delightful, but it’s as you said: Parties simply aren’t my preference. This party especially.”

Marinette’s eyebrows knitted together. “Because it’s a Valentine’s Day party or because there are so many people?”

“The Valentine’s Day theme.” Felix confirmed. “Not only are people more inclined to invade my personal space, but they also like to make the ‘Day of Love’ about romance exclusively. It diminishes the other definition to a ridiculous amount in my opinion.”

“Other definitions?” Marinette inquired. “What do you mean?”

Felix allowed a small, humorous smile to catch his lips. She’d just inadvertently proven his point right there. People were so focused on the romantic sense of love that they seemed to forget the several other types of love that exist. 

“There’s more than one type of love, such as platonic love or familial love. In fact, the Greeks had seven different words for love. I believe they’re all important, so to see them all be dwindled down to just romantic love is aggravating.”

“Huh..” Marinette muttered, absorbing his words. “I never knew about the Greeks using seven different words for love. What were they?”

Felix briefly glanced up in thought. “If I remember correctly, they were Philia, Ludus, Storge, Philautia, Pragma, Agape, and Eros.”

“Wow.” Marinette smiled. “They sound beautiful. What do they mean?”

Felix smirked as well. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Always willing to listen and learn from my random facts.

“Well, the meanings are all decently complicated, but I supposed they can be summed up to this: Philia is the type of intimate love between friends. Ludus is the playful and ‘exciting’ type of love that one would get with a random crush. Storge is familial love, Philautia is the love of self, Pragma is the enduring type of love- which is the type of love needed for marriages or serious relationships -Agape is the unconditional love for humanity as a whole- which I clearly do not have-” He gained a snort from that “-and Eros is that of sexual love.”

The meaning of the last one felt a bit awkward on his tongue, but he pushed away the uneasiness. She had asked for the definitions, after all.

“I like those definitions.” Marinette said, a soft look coming to her features. “It’s cool that you know so much about them.”

“I have mentioned that I enjoy knowing things.”

Marinette giggled. “So you have. Just out of curiosity, though- and this may be a bit contradictory to the conversation -but have you ever had a crush on anyone? Or just, you know.. Been in a relationship in general? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Felix’s eyes widened slightly. He honestly hadn’t expected her to ever ask him such a thing. It made sense, considering the topic of the conversation they were having, but it was still surprising coming from her.

Nevertheless, he answered. 

“No, neither. I’ve never been interested in anyone enough to pursue them, and anyone interested in me has always been too clingy. If I wanted someone to fawn over me constantly, I would simply invite Claude and Allegra to my house more often.”

For some reason, his answer didn’t feel quite right as he said it, and he found himself gauging Marinette’s reaction. Did he answer the question incorrectly? Was she going to be upset? Or possibly disappointed? Why would she be either? How could there possibly be an ‘incorrect’ answer to the question he’d just been asked?

Marinette snorted, clearly not upset at all, and it left him wondering why he’d bothered to worry.

“I figured you’d say that. You don’t seem like the type to get caught up in feelings like that.”

Felix nodded, though he silently questioned what she meant by the comment. Was she implying that he couldn’t get caught up in those types of feelings? Why did that seem so offensive to him?

“What about you?” he asked, brushing his thoughts to the side. He was just being ridiculous anyway. “Have you ever had romantic feelings towards another or been in a relationship?”

He already knew about her affections for Adrien Agreste, of course, but he’d yet to find out how far they went. And, on top of that, there was always the possibility of her having more than one lover. So it only made sense to ask the question, especially since she had asked him first.

A grimace overtook her features, clearly telling him that she had, in fact, had a romantic encounter before.

“Well.. I’ll admit I’ve had a lot of crushes, but there was this one that really got me. You, uh, you’ve actually met him already. Technically, anyway.”

Felix took a guess. “Adrien Agreste?”

She nodded, a bitter smile coming to her lips. “Cliché, right? The baker girl falling for the famous model..” She glanced down at her drink, absently tilting the cup to watch the liquid swirl. “I didn’t like him because he was a model, though. I liked him because he was sweet, and he was thoughtful, and.. I don’t know, I guess I thought.. that we could live a happy life together.”

Felix frowned at the cloud that seemed to pass over her, the pain that swelled in her eyes. He hadn’t realized how strong her attachment to Agreste was.

Marinette shook her head, breaking free of the thought process, and plastered on a smile. “I’m sorry, you didn’t ask about that.”

“No, it’s alright.” He assured her. “You can’t let things weigh on your mind unattended. If you feel you need to talk about it, then I’m willing to lend an ear.”

Marinette’s posture relaxed, relief making her smile a bit more genuine as she said, “Thank you. I appreciate it.. I don’t have any feelings for him now, but the pain is.. It still comes back, especially with how things ended. Sometimes I wish it had been different, sometimes I wish I had been different, and sometimes I wish I hadn’t fallen for him at all.. but mostly, I’m just glad it’s over.”

“What happened?”

“Well.. nothing happened, to be honest. And I think that was the hardest part.” Marinette drew in a deep breath, allowing herself to relax before continuing, “He came to my school a little over two years ago. Everyone was excited, but I didn’t even know who he was. When I did find out, though, we actually had a little bit of a misunderstanding. It’s funny when I think about it now, the way things turned out during that first day.”

“He apologized about it later, even though it wasn’t his fault, and I think that’s when I started to see him as something more than a friend. The more I got to know him, the more I started falling head over heels, and soon my friends found out about it. They thought we would be a great couple too, which kind of made me excited, and we all started planning these elaborate schemes to get him to notice me.”

She put her head in her hands and groaned. “It was so embarrassing, Felix, you should have seen them. One even involved me dressing up like a cat since he loved Chat Noir so much.” 

Felix grimaced, though he tried not to show it. Marinette dressing up like a cat for some random guy’s attention? He couldn’t even fathom it. Who came up with that suggestion?

“Did it.. work?” He almost hesitated to ask.

Marinette laid her head on the table then, shaking it with a whine. “Not even close. This group of dogs saw me on my way over, and I guess my costume was too convincing because they chased me all around Paris. I ended up muddy and scratched up when Adrien actually saw me, which didn’t help at all.”

Felix was careful not to react, but he almost felt the need to pat her on the shoulder. How had she not died from embarrassment yet? If someone put him through that, he’d never go outside again.

“You see? That’s how all of it was. All. of. It.” Marinette said, lifting her head again to lean her chin into her palm. “Two years I spent chasing after him, making all of these plans and trying to catch his eye just once, but no matter what I did, I was only ever his ‘good friend’. A-And I’m not saying I hated being his friend or anything, I just.. I was trying so hard to be more, wondering why I wasn’t enough, and my friends were constantly cheering me on to keep going. It was exhausting.”

Felix offered her a sympathetic look as she went on, though he couldn’t help feeling annoyed by the story. What kind of ‘friends’ did she use to have that they would willingly push her to make a fool of herself in front of her love? What kind of friends would encourage her to continue chasing after someone who clearly wasn’t interested in her? That wasn’t healthy at all, and he could only imagine how miserable it would have made her.

Wait..

“Is that why he’s coming to see you now?” Felix asked. (or more of blurted out.) “Because of your previous feelings for him?”

“Oh, no.” Marinette said, going so far as to let out a laugh. “No, I doubt he’s ever going to see me in that light, but it’s still frustrating that he’s trying to visit me. Moving to Rosemary was supposed to be an easy break, but he just has to follow me here too.. Again, it’s not that I mind being his friend or anything, it’s.. I need time. To get over him. I don’t like the person I became when I only lived to gain his affection, and it’s hard to get over that mindset, ya know?”

Felix nodded. He didn’t quite understand her experience since he’d never loved someone himself, but he knew that old habits were hard to break, and that love can be known as an intoxicating and addicting emotion. It wouldn’t be easy to get rid of.

“You’re strong for deciding that.” He said sincerely. “It takes an immense amount of will power to let go of something that you think will make you happy, but I believe you’re right in thinking you’ll be better for it.”

Marinette pulled a small smile, twisting the small tip of her ponytail. “Thanks. I hope I am.”

Felix smiled as well and turned his chair to face Marinette more fully. He wanted to ensure that she would hear the words he was about to say.

“Marinette, you are.. an incredible person. And I’m not just telling you this to lift your spirits, I am saying it because it’s true. You are talented, intelligent, kind, and capable all on your own. You don’t need anyone to validate how amazing you are, because it’s evident in everything you do, and I truly hope you don’t ever doubt yourself because of Adrien’s foolishness.”

A blush bloomed across Marinette’s cheeks, and she glanced down to fiddle with her hands. “O-Oh, uhm.. Thanks.. Again. I won’t.”

Felix smiled, satisfied with the reaction, and picked up his cup to extend it towards her.

“Here,” he said light-heartedly, “to finding someone new, someone who appreciates you, even if that someone is yourself.”

Marinette giggled and picked up her drink as well, clinking the glasses together. “To finding someone new.”

Felix took a sip of his cup to complete the toast, but to his surprise, Marinette set hers to the side, instead standing up and offering her hand to him.

“Let’s go dance.”

Felix choked on his drink.

“Pardon?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Marinette insisted. “I mean, you only have to come if you want to, of course, but I haven’t danced with you yet, and Claude said that you took waltzing lessons at the school.”

Felix held back a scoff and glanced around the room, hoping to catch Claude’s eyes so he could glare at him. Why did that dolt keep telling people he took waltzing lessons? It only made it harder for Felix’s to reject people when asked to dance. 

However.

He looked back to Marinette, who held a fresh, bright smile, waiting for his response.

“I bet if Marinette asked you to dance, you would.”

Allegra’s words resurfaced in his mind, unwelcomed. Why did she always have to be right? It only made her more smug as a person.

Nevertheless, Felix took Marinette’s hand. “Alright, but only one dance. I don’t want anyone else thinking I’m open to the idea.”

Marinette chuckled and pulled Felix to his feet. “Of course not. We’ll dance near the darker spots of the room so your face won’t be seen.”

They moved to the dance floor, and Marinette put her hand on his shoulder, while Felix wrapped his arm around her waist. It was a bit awkward pulling each other close, since the only other person he’d been this close to was his mother and father, but once they actually started to dance, his years of practice easily took over. Felix slid into the role of leading, and Marinette followed him willingly as he spun her around the party room, smiling when she laughed during a dip.

Such a fool.. He thought, tugging her back up to him. How anyone could pass up Marinette’s affection was beyond him, but in a way, Felix was delighted that Adrien had. He might not have been able to meet her otherwise.

With the two being so enveloped in each other’s movements, they didn’t notice Allegra, Claude, and Allan watching them from across the room, nor did they catch the smiles and high-fives that the trio shared.

Tag List: @sasstrashforlike5fandoms  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252 @canivialemonsquints07  @derbygracie  @pleaseignorejustheretoread

#felinette #Felix Culpa #Marinette #Miraculous Ladybug #Rosemary AU #New Girl on the Block #quantic kids

[themurphyzone]

PatB Oneshot: A Whole New Life for You and Me

For the air mice nyoom’s server Secret Santa for @deez-art! Decided to gift them a fic for the wonderful Brainladdin AU cause it’s so pure and I live for found family. I decided to go with the happy ending for the movie, cause Genie’s reaction upon being freed melts me every time.

@nuttersincorporated came up with the fun idea of Wakko calling Brainladdin ‘Dad’ and Brainladdin denying it every time. I thought it was cute XD

Summary: The evil Snowballjafar has been defeated, but there's still some loose ends that need to be wrapped up. And really, there are way too many emotions going on here for Brainladdin's comfort. 

AO3 Link (No FFN post cause AO3 has easier x-over system). 

No power, however grandiose and terrifying, could go unchecked by the laws of the universe. Snowballjafar had forgotten there were unseen forces far greater than himself, even with phenomenal cosmic power at his fingertips.

The price to pay? Itty bitty living space inside a cramped magical lamp.

Brainladdin stared down at the black lamp that now contained his former friend turned enemy. While part of him would always remember Snowballjafar as a fellow young orphan on the streets, he also knew that this fate was karma for all of the hamster’s cruelty.

Jaspinky wouldn’t be forced into a union he didn’t want. Yakko wouldn’t be forced to hurt the people he’d come to regard as his younger siblings. Wakko and Dot wouldn’t be forced to live in an ACMEbah under Snowballjafar’s iron command.

ACMEbah was restored. Everyone was safe.

Brainladdin gave the lamp to Yakko, now back to his normal self, or as normal as could be for a wisecracking genie with a penchant for cartoonish humor.

“Allow me,” Yakko said, winking at Wakko and Dot as he zipped towards the palace balcony that overlooked the city. The kids eagerly scrambled over to the balcony to watch the proceedings.

In a flash of light, Yakko now wore a backwards blue cap, Wakko sported some strange armor that covered his chest and face, and Dot had a pink helmet with her trademark yellow flower painted on the side. Wakko and Dot grinned up at Yakko with adoring expressions, hanging off the balcony a little too eagerly for Brainladdin’s peace of mind.

“Wakko! Get off that railing at once!” Brainladdin shouted.

“Yes, Pops,” Wakko said in the universal ‘exasperated teen’ tone, which Brain suspected he’d picked up from Yakko. But Wakko planted his two feet on safe ground anyway, settling for standing on his tiptoes instead.

“I’m not—oh forget it,” Brainladdin sighed. It wasn’t worth arguing about, and he’d rather just take the defeat now instead of prolonging it.

Jaspinky giggled, his jewelry swaying gently with every movement. His blue eyes sparkled once again, a much welcomed change from the abject terror he had experienced while drowning in the sand-filled hourglass. And really, he looked much better in blue and gold than seductive red.

It was an objective fact.

Yakko held the lamp in his left arm, then wound it so fast that it resembled a blue whirlwind. “This is it, folks! The real teeth-clenching, nailbiting, game-winning swing of whatever century we’re in!”

Another magical burst, and Brainladdin found himself holding a tiny triangular flag emblazoned with Dot’s flower. Jaspinky screamed in glee, waving a giant pointing foam finger that now covered his right hand. Brainladdin rolled his eyes, but held the flag as high as he could in a silent show of support.

Dot readied her large mallet as Wakko crouched behind her, punching his fist into the palm of his hand. Yakko zipped to the other side of the balcony, then hurled the lamp towards Dot with all his might.

THWACK!

Dot’s mallet connected with the lamp and sent it soaring high into the blue sky and far beyond the walls of ACMEbah, straight into the heart of the vast desert.

“THAT’S FOR JASPINKY, MY BROTHERS, AND BRAINLADDIN CAUSE I FEEL LIKE BEING GENEROUS, YOU STUPID HAMSTER!” Dot screamed as she dashed around the balcony at high speeds, high-fiving Jaspinky’s foam finger as she passed him.

“And it’s outta here, thanks to my new sister sib! What a swing!” Yakko ruffled Dot’s hair as she threw herself at Wakko, knocking him down from his crouched position. The two laughed and embraced, laughing in joy and relief that their ordeal was really over. The duo began an odd victory dance that involved a lot of stomping both of them and rude hand gestures to the horizon on Dot’s part. “He’s looking at uhhhhhhhh…about a ten thousand year sentence in the Cave of Wonders. Without parole or bail, unless some poor shmuck decides to release him in a cashgrab sequel. But that’s a problem for another time.”  

Brainladdin allowed himself a tiny smile. And Jaspinky smiled that bright, silly smile that always seemed to make Brainladdin’s chest flutter swiftly and strange, but not in a wholly unpleasant way either.

To think this entire business had started out as a way to ascend to the throne of ACMEbah. Leave poverty behind him. Get Wakko some actual food and not worry about amputated limbs courtesy of angry shopkeepers.

He hadn’t counted on falling head over heels for Jaspinky’s gentle spirit. Who wanted to marry for love and not for power or fame or wealth. Nor had he counted on striking up a genuine friendship with a powerful magical being, who had wishes of his own yet was bound to the desires of his master.

Wakko lived by the rules of the street rat like Brainladdin, but he’d found a kinship with others willing to show him the affection Brainladdin couldn’t offer him.

Dot could finally be a child, a rather clever and self-sufficient one, and now she had brothers who would watch her back from this point on.

And Brainladdin found himself back to square one. There were other methods to take over ACMEbah, but he couldn’t continue perpetrating this lie.

Jaspinky deserved someone better than him. Wakko should be taken care of by people who would provide for every physical need and show him the love he deserved. He didn’t get along with Dot, but she was protective of Jaspinky, and it was by far her most admirable trait.

Most importantly, this quest would’ve been doomed to fail from the beginning if it hadn’t been for Yakko, who supported the endeavor in his snarky, playful way, entertained with his magic, and didn’t seem to begrudge Brainladdin for not keeping his promise when he’d been blinded by power.

Really, Yakko never should’ve been locked away from the world, only to come out when someone wanted to use him.

“Pondering again, Brainladdin?” Jaspinky asked. He took off the foam finger and set it down gently, then carefully pried the flag out of Brainladdin’s hands. His fingers were warm and gentle, much like how they’d held hands on that whimsical carpet ride just a few starlit nights ago.

“Yes,” Brainladdin said softly. He swallowed the lump in his throat, then took Jaspinky’s hands in his and tried not to think about how this would be the last time he might ever see him. “And I’m sorry I lied to you about being a prince.”  

Jaspinky teared up, his impossibly blue eyes reflecting the sky above. “It’s okay. I know why you did,” he whispered, like the lie was easy to forgive, just like that.  

A street rat couldn’t hope to change a centuries-old law. Street rats had no power, no connections, no respect. And the Sultan-CEO wouldn’t approve of any match but the ones she selected for Jaspinky, regardless of his wishes.

“I suppose this is goodbye.” Brainladdin squeezed Jaspinky’s hands, just to prolong releasing his hands for a little longer.  

“It’s not fair,” Jaspinky whimpered. “I love you.”

Brainladdin had seen those words float around in every step, every touch, every look from Jaspinky. But to hear it spoken out loud…

Well, it seemed he would be yearning for much more than power once he returned to the street.

A few teardrops splashed down from above. Yakko sniffed into a handkerchief, and Wakko and Dot stopped dancing, the reality of the situation sinking in, judging from their crestfallen expressions.

“Sorry. Never been this invested in a love story before,” Yakko said, poofing the handkerchief away as he drifted down next to Brainladdin. “But ya still got one wish left. Might as well use it. Just say the word and it’s riches, elephants, an entourage, and the whole prince shebang.”

Even after I went back on my promise to set you free? Brainladdin wanted to ask, but the words caught in his throat. You still want to offer me a chance to be with Jaspinky?

“Eh, what’s an eternity of servitude to love?” Yakko stretched casually, as if he could read Brainladdin’s thoughts. He bumped noses with Jaspinky, who smiled despite his tears. “You only come across someone like Jaspinky…well, never actually. Then again, trying to score a date can be pretty hard when you’re stuck in a lamp.”  

Brainladdin cupped Jaspinky’s cheek in the palm of his hand. He wouldn’t feel his warm, luxurious fur ever again.

“Jaspinky…while I-I reciprocate your affections, I can’t fabricate an entire persona to make you…you know.” Brainladdin looked down, unable to meet Jaspinky’s tearful gaze.

“Um…” Jaspinky just sounded confused.

“He stinks at admitting he loves you even though it’s completely obvious cause he actually wants you to be happy unlike all those other rotten, no-good, stuck-up jerkwad princes!” Dot shouted.

He could’ve done without the insult, but he nodded his thanks to Dot for the translation to Jaspinky terms.

“I understand, Brainladdin,” Jaspinky murmured. He kissed the back of Brainladdin’s hand, soft lips pressing against the calloused skin. Brainladdin allowed a moment for the kiss to settle, then pulled away to take care of one last piece of business.

“Yakko, I wish for your freedom,” Brainladdin declared.  

This was his chance to set things right. So that Yakko would have his freedom, never be forced to serve a cruel master again, and fully become the loving, questionably responsible brother he was meant to be.

“Right away! Vipers, monkeys, gold, coming right-” Yakko said, dusting off his gloves and cracking his knuckles. He raised his arms, then paused in surprise, the final wish not quite registering yet. “-wait, what?”  

Brainladdin held the lamp up to Yakko. The forever-teenager’s powers would be his own, never subject to anyone’s whims again.

“Yakko, you’re free.”  

Blue smoke poured out of the lamp as it rose out of Brainladdin’s hands, swirling around Yakko’s body as he looked on, completely speechless for probably the first time in millennia. His eyebrows drew up in shock, his arms making odd, meaningless motions as if he didn’t know what to do with his own body. Bolts of cosmic, ancient magic weaved around Yakko in indescribable colors, sparking clouds of massive energy that had never been witnessed before or ever again.

Jaspinky rested his jaw on top of Brainladdin’s head, not caring if he squished his fez. Wakko’s tongue lolled out happily, and Dot bounced up and down in sheer amazement before catching herself and settling for a joyful grin. Together they watched the golden shackles around Yakko’s wrists break and vanish into a cloud of magical sparkles.

Yakko stared at his own bare wrists, rubbing them and feeling the fur beneath his bonds, probably for the first time in his long life. He turned them in every possible direction, his mouth making movements that were heavily reminiscent of a fish out of water.  

“I’m free?” Yakko asked in disbelief. He gingerly picked up his lamp by the handle, tapping it a few times in case it had any power left. But the lamp had lost its golden sheen, its exterior now a dull brown. Yakko’s chest heaved up and down rapidly. “I’m free.”

His voice was tiny, not at all full of confidence and bravado as Brainladdin had admittedly grown fond of throughout this whole ordeal.

Then he cleared his throat, thrusting the depowered lamp into Brainladdin’s arms and startling Jaspinky enough that his arms slipped off Brainladdin’s head. Jaspinky laughed it off, and Brainladdin nudged him with his foot.

“Quick! Wish for something outrageous! Wish for denial!” Yakko begged as he covered his eyes, turning away from Brainladdin. “That’s it! Denial!”

Brainladdin shrugged, but obliged anyway. “I wish for denial?”

“Psych! Like you really need me for something you’ve already got!” Yakko shouted in Brainladdin’s face, giggling uncontrollably.

Brainladdin sighed and pushed Yakko’s face away from his, but Yakko’s glee was absolutely infectious, and even he couldn’t help but smile as Yakko bounced off pillars and roofs and the ground below, reveling in his newfound freedom. Whatever Yakko planned to do, Brainladdin had no doubts that the genie would use his liberation from the lamp well.  

“I’mfreeI’mfreeI’mfree—I’M FREE!” Yakko chanted the mantra over and over. He lifted Wakko and Dot onto his shoulders and nuzzled their noses, and they returned the gesture with huge smiles. Wakko leaned a little too far over for comfort as the trio celebrated in midair, but it seemed that Yakko’s magic allowed him to stay on without worrying about the laws of physics.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to see the world! You know how boring lamp interiors are? It’s good that you don’t, cause you’ll be bored if I answered that!” Yakko exclaimed as he conjured a long, blue slide that allowed Wakko and Dot to safely return to the balcony in style. Then he broke out an enormous suitcase, packing clothes, toys, and other items with a ridiculous amount of arms.  

So Yakko planned to leave too. But Brainladdin tried to hang onto the joy of Yakko’s freedom for a little longer, trying not to linger on how his life always consisted of saying goodbye to anyone he met that he’d grown to…tolerate.

“Well, off to see the sights! Tahiti, China, the Galapagos, Pennsylvania, Switzer-“

Yakko paused and looked down, a bag of apples in one hand and a potted cactus in another. His mouth opened in surprise. He was watching Brainladdin.

Then Brainladdin’s vision blurred. He wiped his eyes, and his fingers came away damp. No one else had commented yet, though Jaspinky’s hand was on the small of his back, but Brainladdin said nothing. Best to ingrain the memory of Jaspinky’s soft touch in his mind while he had the chance.

Yakko wiped away a few tears of his own, his form shrinking until he was just a head taller than Wakko.

“Poit. I’ll let you have a moment,” Jaspinky whispered. Brainladdin only registered his words just as the gentle pressure vanished from his back. Dot knelt, taking Jaspinky in her cupped hands. She was silent, only giving Yakko an odd look before retreating into the palace for her own private conversation with the princess, leaving Wakko and Brainladdin alone with Yakko.

A case of déjà vu swept through Brainladdin. He and Wakko alone in the Cave of Wonders. Wakko bouncing along to a bombastic musical number, where he could have a fun childhood experience that ACMEbah refused to grant. Yakko’s excitement over simply talking to living beings.

At first, Yakko was just a means to an end. He was powerful, and it wasn’t difficult to work within the boundaries of his genie limitations. Maybe he could’ve took things more seriously, maybe he could’ve stopped jabbering for just a few seconds so Brainladdin could get a word or two in. Although Yakko had been trapped within a role, he still made everyone smile, he was protective, and he was kind.

“Hey.” Yakko tapped Brainladdin’s forehead. “You really oughta stop that brooding habit of yours.”

“I don’t brood. I ponder,” Brainladdin shot back, ridding himself of the watery veil in his eyes. Yakko provided him with a handkerchief, and Brainladdin blew his nose. The item poofed away. “Thanks, Yakko. For everything, and not just for convenient items you can create without obeying the laws of physics and other scientific fields.”

“Are you really gonna see the world?” Wakko asked, his eyes shining with wonder.

Wakko had expressed a desire to see the world many times before, but only so he could earn enough money to help Brainladdin put bread on the table. One of Brainladdin’s regrets about this elaborate plan falling through, really. Nobody, especially a child, should ever have to worry about rationing one loaf of bread and an apple to last a week.

Here was a prime opportunity for Wakko to experience the world without financial woes dragging him down from truly enjoying it, since Yakko could just create money and food as needed and serve as a somewhat responsible guardian for him.

Brainladdin didn’t ask though, but only because he didn’t know how to broach the topic. Wakko would never follow his own dream if he was constantly worried for Brainladdin, and it didn’t feel quite right to request something of Yakko so soon after his new freedom.  

Yakko nodded, wiping away a stray tear from his cheek. “Well, more than what I’m seeing right now, anyway. And really, it’s no problem-o. At least you guys aren’t boring. Can’t say the same about all the other masters I’ve had.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” Wakko admitted. He held up his arms, and Yakko scooped him up in an enormous hug. Wakko flopped like a sack of potatoes, nuzzling into Yakko’s fur.

“Heh, you too, kid,” Yakko murmured. “Boy, have you been filling up on the palace’s sweetcakes or something since we started this whole thing?”  

It wasn’t healthy sustenance by any means, but if Wakko was truly putting on weight, then Brainladdin saw no reason to complain.

Yakko shifted his brother so that he was secure in one arm, then set his other hand on the ground next to Brainladdin, who stepped into the offered palm. Yakko set Brainladdin on his shoulder, a gentle brush of magic preventing any accidental falls.

“Yakko…” Brainladdin could barely look him in the eye. “Though your antics could be somewhat over the top, you go about them with a certain degree of charm. And I suppose…I’ll miss you as well.”

“Awww, only somewhat over the top? Looks like I gotta up my game.” Yakko cracked a grin. Then he pushed his nose against Brainladdin’s, and while it was an odd feeling to be nuzzled on the nose, he didn’t push Yakko away either.

Wakko made an angry noise in the back of his throat.

Brainladdin shrugged. His dignity had been torn to shreds anyway. “I can learn to tolerate one more.”

And Wakko immediately closed the distance, his knee digging into Yakko’s smoky tail and somehow making him go ‘oomph’ even though there shouldn’t have been anything with substance there. Wakko’s nuzzle was somewhat rougher than Yakko’s, but it wasn’t anything Brainladdin couldn’t handle.

And this was long overdue, Brainladdin thought as he patted Wakko’s cheek. Had he ever done this while Wakko was awake and conscious to feel it? He wasn’t sure, but as Jaspinky taught him…it wasn’t too late to start.

“Who cares what anyone says? You guys are always gonna be royalty to me,” Yakko declared.  

Wakko closed his eyes and almost melted right there, and Yakko had to set him down carefully since the kid’s body composition seemed to be made out of shifting sand with all the physical contact. Brainladdin carefully climbed down Yakko’s arm and tried not to tear up again at his words.

Just as Brainladdin’s feet touched the ground, there was a furious scream from the door on the far side of the room.

“The Sultan-CEO is just…AHHHHHHH!” Dot shouted as she stomped across the tiled floor and slumped against the balcony railing, her head smacking against the metal bars. Her brothers threw their arms around her instantly, and her ire diminished, though she was still wracked with tension.  

Jaspinky trailed behind her, his shoulders and tail drooping, the golden band around his tail making sad tap-tap-tap noises.

Shoot. He was still crying.

“I’m sorry, Brainladdin.” Jaspinky twisted his tail between his hands. “Sultan-CEO-Mom’s still awfully mad. Some dictator from the kingdom of Dunlikus was supposed to meet with her but got caught in a whirlywind from Snowballjafar’s evil magic. She wouldn’t listen to us. But…Dot tried to convince her about you. She really did.”

“I believe you, Jaspinky,” Brainladdin quietly said as he patted Jaspinky’s back. Jaspinky sniffed once, twice, then intertwined his tail with Brainladdin’s. While Brainladdin’s tail was crooked and stiff from the amount of times he’d been roughly grabbed while stealing, Jaspinky’s was smooth and unblemished. “Did she say anything to Dot in particular?”  

It was rather interesting to watch Jaspinky’s tail flow with every unrestrained emotion. Yet it also served as a reminder of their very different social statuses.

Jaspinky nodded sadly. “She said Dot doesn’t have any good ideas cause she’s just a kid who doesn’t know how the real world works. But then…neither of us have really seen the world outside the palace. The magic carpet ride was my first time, and it really was a magical wonderful memory I’ll treasure forever. But Dot-well, how do we know how the world works if we’re stuck here?”

For all his oddities, Jaspinky could ask the most profound questions.

“You won’t.”

But Jaspinky couldn’t live in the city either. Brainladdin didn’t want Jaspinky’s kindred spirit snuffed out by the cynicism and roughness of the streets.  

Jaspinky winced, hurt shining in his blue eyes. Realizing his reply came out blunter than he intended, Brainladdin rubbed a circle into Jaspinky’s hand in a silent apology. Jaspinky lifted Brainladdin’s fez and planted a kiss on top of his head, then made a show of adjusting the fez.  

Brainladdin took Jaspinky by the hand and led him to the siblings. He wondered how exactly he’d come to have more physical contact in the past day than what he’d given and received in years. Truth be told, it was a terrifying yet exhilarating change. But it would also be tinged with bittersweet.

After Jaspinky, he doubted he’d be able to ever touch anyone like this ever again.  

“It’s okay-“ Yakko tried, hands held out to placate Dot.

“No, it’s not!”

Wakko was silent, but he was the first to spot Brainladdin and Jaspinky joining them. He gently turned Dot so that she was no longer glaring daggers into the buildings of ACMEbah. The fur around her eyes was damp with tears.

Jaspinky climbed up the skirt of Dot’s pink and white dress and perched on her shoulder, humming comfort into her ear. Dot stroked his head with her finger, and his foot kicked rapidly. She gave a tiny laugh.  

Which was excellent, because Brainladdin was rather weary of all the crying. “Jaspinky explained what happened with the Sultan-CEO,” he said. “Though it didn’t have the results you wanted, we’d like to commend your effort regardless.”

“What Brainladdin said!” Jaspinky chirped. “Remember that mean ol’ Chance O’ Ler from Turkey? He was so scared of Sultan-CEO-Mom that his pants changed colors! But you didn’t even flinch in front of her!”

“Hey, how come nobody invited me to witness all this?” Yakko pouted, holding up a dramatic Greek mask with an exaggerated frown. “I would’ve drawn pictures of that moment, you know! I’m getting really good with my sketches!”

He snapped his fingers, and five large scrolls materialized, each containing a drawing of everyone in their group. Brainladdin thought it was a surprisingly accurate representation of himself…

…except his hands resembled a lump with misshapen sausages for fingers attached.

It was the most glaring flaw in all the other scrolls too.

“Are those chain-link sausages?” Wakko asked, pointing to his own sketch. Brainladdin was just glad he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“I like them!” Jaspinky said, wiggling his own fingers.

“It was mostly proportionate. But the hands leave a lot to be desired,” Brainladdin added.  

Dot only covered her mouth and ducked her head.

Yakko shrugged, the scrolls disappearing. “Private tutors and art references are hard to come by when you’re stuck in a lamp.”

Then Dot burst into laughter, Jaspinky chortling alongside her as her shoulders rapidly bounced up and down. She lightly struck the railing with her fist multiple times. There were tears again, but they came from joy rather than sadness.

“Those—ha! I can’t—Yakko, you really captured my good side…but oh my gosh-“ Dot could barely speak between breaths, a huge smile breaking out on her face.

Yakko winked at her. “Figured that would snap you outta it.”

Dot just hugged him back, and Yakko let out another ‘oomph’ as tiny yet strong arms encircled him. “Geez, what do you mice feed these kids?” he wheezed.

Jaspinky stood up, dusting his clothes off and trying a small test jump. “Zort! Brainladdin, catch me!”

A mass of fur, clothing, and narf crashed into Brainladdin, knocking him to the ground with no chance to prepare. He spat out a tassel from Jaspinky’s sleeve. The princess was way too cheerful about his impromptu belly flop.

Then Jaspinky sprang back up, helping Brainladdin to his feet as well. “Dot, I’m really happy to be your friend,” Jaspinky said. “But if Yakko doesn’t mind, I think it would be amazingly fun and wonderful if you could see the world for yourself.”

“Course I don’t mind!” Yakko exclaimed as he threw Dot into the air and caught her. “I’ll have to redo my travel itinerary, but it’ll be more fun that way! If I put Tahiti before Pennsylvania, we can go snorkeling with dolphins on a nice sunny Friday, no hold on a sec, China should be first cause it’s been way too long since I’ve had dumplings, and Greece can-“

“YAKKO, HOLD ON A SEC!” Dot shouted just as Yakko prepared to throw her again. She dangled somewhat precariously next to Yakko’s legs, but she didn’t seem to mind her position all that much.

It surprised Brainladdin that Yakko was willing to accept a new responsibility so readily, and he caught the wistful look on Wakko’s face when Yakko happily declared he’d love company on his trip, but he knew Wakko wouldn’t accept. From Dot’s forlorn expression as she glanced at Jaspinky, she wouldn’t take her chance either.

ACMEbah had a way of robbing everyone of a happy childhood. It appeared sadly common to every social class.

“I don’t take orders from anyone, not even princesses,” Dot growled. “And I’m not leaving you to the tender mercies of the Sultan-CEO or anyone who just wants a pretty face with money, Jaspinky.”

But Jaspinky shook his head. “You won’t have to worry about me though. Cause I’ll live in the city with Brainladdin and Wakko. So I won’t be alone!”

What? That is possibly the least reassuring thing you could’ve said right now, idiot!

Dot’s expression turned stormy. She was thinking along the same lines too.

“Did-did I say something wrong?” Jaspinky’s ears drooped. “I can do some good in the city. I-I never knew things were so bad. And I wanna help.”

“Put that fluff between your ears to use and think, Jaspinky!” Brainladdin snapped. Jaspinky’s mouth quivered. Brainladdin took a deep breath, mentally counting to ten before clasping Jaspinky’s hands between his own. “I…I’m sorry. For my outburst. But remind yourself of our first meeting in the marketplace. You meant well when you took the apple off the fruit stand and gave it to Wakko, but you barely understood the concepts of money and payment, and you completely froze when the shopkeeper barbarically tried to chop off your hand.”

“You saved me though,” Jaspinky said.

“Yes, but if the shopkeeper had been faster with his sword? If I was too far to help you? And your lack of a disguise was another issue. You waltzed into the marketplace with all your finery and no protection. Someone would notice eventually. The best case scenario? Your clothes and jewelry would’ve been stolen, but that’s all. And if someone chose to kidnap you for ransom or worse, the palace and royal guards would’ve been in an uproar. If that hypothetical situation came to pass, guess which group would be suspected first.”

“N-no,” Jaspinky whimpered. “I-I didn’t mean-“

“I know why you did though. You weren’t malicious, just naïve. There’s nothing to apologize for or forgive.” Brainladdin pulled Jaspinky’s head down until their cheeks touched. Jaspinky’s fur was a different sort of warm, not blistering hot like the desert sun, but more of a soft ray of light.

The princess had walked among the commoners for the same reason Brainladdin had disguised himself as a prince. Because he’d felt trapped by a societal role and just wanted to be free.

“Brainladdin?” Jaspinky’s voice was oddly distant.

“If you leave the safety of the palace—if they realize you’ve taken the lifestyle of a common street rat—they’ll hate you. Nobody will see you. But you’ll be blamed. For things you didn’t do…or just for trying to survive. And you’ll lose your good heart, Jaspinky. I can’t even protect Wakko from the consequences. But he’s already figured out some of it. So please…don’t…l-leave…”

Don’t leave the palace…don’t leave me…

Wakko’s hand rested against Brainladdin’s back. The child was always too generous for his own good. It was a quality that Brainladdin couldn’t bring himself to force Wakko to lose, as much as it was a detriment to his survival.

Brainladdin’s vision blurred, and he felt water leak out of his eyes against his will. He was going to die of dehydration at this rate. Jaspinky nuzzled his cheek, humming a meaningless tune into his ear.

The magic carpet ride had been one of the most awe-inspiring experiences of his life. Soft fabric beneath them, close quarters necessitating physical contact, a navy starlit sky above. Being weightless, being free from the worry of scavenging for scraps or taking over ACMEbah, being able to see the wonder in Jaspinky’s eyes as he touched a cloud for the first time…

They weren’t Brainladdin the street rat and Princess Jaspinky in the sky. No, there were no statuses to worry about, no pressures to conform to.

Jaspinky petting a wild horse as it galloped across the land. The stars twinkling in Jaspinky’s eyes. His excitement when he experienced something he’d never seen or done before.

Yet it would be nothing more than a wistful memory.

“They’re still trapped, you know. There’s gotta be something we can do,” a quiet voice said.

Wakko.

“Jaspinky. Brainladdin. You guys really love each other, don’t you?” Dot asked.

Brainladdin wiped his tears on his vest, not caring that it was one of the few pieces of clothing he owned. He looked up at Dot, who was seated on Yakko’s shoulders.

She’d been nothing more than an irritating obstacle when he tried to woo Jaspinky. But if it weren’t for her presence, Jaspinky likely would’ve been married to someone he didn’t love.

He really couldn’t fault her for hating the made-up Prince Brainli.

“He’s my world,” Brainladdin whispered, his voice barely audible, even to himself. He gave Jaspinky a tiny nuzzle, and Jaspinky’s tail intertwined with his own once again.

“And mine too,” Jaspinky agreed.  

Dot watched them for just a moment longer. Then her back straightened, her head tilting proudly. Her foot tapped against Yakko’s chest.

“As someone who’s secretly observed the Sultan-CEO’s political meetings and learned the do’s and don’ts of palace business, I’m the most qualified one here for the position of temporary Sultan-CEO,” she declared. “Yakko. A scroll and quill, if you please.”

Yakko grinned, and the requested items appeared. “Your wish is my command.”

“Thank you,” Dot said with a firm nod.

Brainladdin glanced at Jaspinky and Wakko, but they seemed just as confused as he was. He wasn’t sure if one could just declare themselves Sultan-CEO. That wasn’t really how it worked.

“I, acting Sultan-CEO Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Third, also known as Dot, hereby decree that the Royal Marriage Law of 1175 is null and void, and from this day forth, the princess of ACMEbah shall marry whoever they deem worthy.”

The quill jotted Dot’s decree word for word on the scroll, every letter emblazoned with a golden shine.

“Now for the seal of approval!” Dot shouted.

Another flash of magic transformed Wakko into a black and white seal, the scroll was brought down to his nose level, and he gave the paper a large, slobbery lick. Then he clapped, his flippers beating together as Yakko tossed several fish fillets into his mouth.

Then the scroll disappeared, and Wakko transformed back, white bits of fish still coating his mouth.

“This new decree is non-negotiable and binding,” Yakko said. “And I’ve also taken the liberty of framing, enlarging, and sticking it in a palace hallway our dear power-hungry Sultan-CEO frequents. She won’t be able to remove it no matter how hard she tries.”  

As if on cue, there was a distant horrified scream that practically blew one of the domed roofs of the palace off.

What just happened? She can really do that?

Jaspinky squealed in glee, right next to Brainladdin’s ear. He barely had time to rub the sensitive hairs before Jaspinky lifted him into the air and spun him around so fast that he saw more stars than the sun in broad daylight. And they were absolutely beautiful.

“I choose you, Brainladdin!” Jaspinky exclaimed. His laughter was like a melody, Brainladdin losing himself in the music, and he was probably grinning like a fool too but he no longer cared about that because he could be with Jaspinky, and there was an entire world for them and them alone!

Brainladdin clung to Jaspinky’s shoulders, steadying himself as Jaspinky set him down again. He brushed Pinky’s jewelry out of the way, and Jaspinky pressed his forehead against his own.

“Call me Brain,” Brainladdin murmured, and he held Jaspinky close.  

They were no longer trapped. They were free. They could be together.

His heart quickened, and it was an exhilarating feeling indeed.

“Alright, everyone into the group hug!” Yakko shouted, and a giant hand scooped them up. Brainladdin was instantly sandwiched between Jaspinky and Wakko, Dot squeezing herself into the crook of Yakko’s arm on Jaspinky’s opposite side. It was getting hard to breathe, but he couldn’t tell if that was from the force of Yakko’s hug or a side effect of the emotionally charged atmosphere. “Now that we’re all done baring our souls.”

“Thank you, Dot!” Jaspinky exclaimed, hugging the girl’s cheek. “Thankyousomuch! And now that I’ve got Brainladdin staying with me, you should go with Yakko! No ifs or buts, young lady!”

Dot smirked. “You just wanna get rid of me so you can do stuff with Brainladdin.” There was something sneaky in her voice that Brainladdin heavily disliked. “But I’ll gladly take this vacation.”

“I could never get rid of you, Dot! You’re my best handmaiden!” Jaspinky protested.

“Simmer, Jaspinky,” Brainladdin said, and the princess relaxed. “She’s only teasing. That being said, I highly detest her tone.”

He gave Dot a pointed glare, and she casually placed her elbow against Yakko’s arm. “You’re not a complete jerk, but if I were as bigheaded as you, I’d avoid most of the rooms on the southern side. I still haven’t disabled the booby trapped perfume bottles that spray catfish guts yet. You’ll be mostly safe on the east side though.”  

“And you’re not a complete brat. Just an annoyingly clever one,” he muttered.  

Dot looked all too pleased with herself.

At least he’d finally confirmed who rigged that perfume bottle on his second night as Prince Brainli in the palace.

“Perfect!” Yakko exclaimed, and confetti showered down on everyone. “So any particular places in mind? A change of scenery would do you some good!”

“Burbank. Machu Picchu. Rome,” Dot said. “I’ll come up with more later. You got any ideas, Wakko?”

Wakko shook his head, only staring at the ground far below them.

“Wakko? Wakster? Wakaroo?” Yakko frowned, gently shaking Wakko, who only went limp. “C’mon, we know you’ve got places you wanna visit. Mostly for the exotic food, right?”

“Sorry. I’d love to go, but-“ Wakko’s face fell.

This wasn’t like before, where Brainladdin refused to let Wakko venture outside ACMEbah. Now neither of them would be alone in this world.

“Look at me, Wakko.” Brainladdin held onto one of Wakko’s fingers with both hands, and the boy obeyed. “As the soon-to-be ruler of ACMEbah, I will be living in the palace with Jaspinky. There’s no more need for concern. And you have a somewhat responsible brother and an irritatingly capable sister who will always have your back. Your new objective is to explore the world for yourself, and if you try to send money back or work yourself to the bone, I shall have to ground you.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Wakko snatched him up for an enormous hug. Brainladdin gasped for air, fairly certain one lung was punctured and his left kidney had been knocked out of place from the tight squeeze.

“Oxygen!” he wheezed. Wakko relented and returned him to Jaspinky, who was more of a white and blue blur than a mouse right now.

“Faboo, Dad!” Wakko exclaimed, much to Yakko and Dot’s joy.

“Yes, faboo indeed,” Brainladdin muttered, a dizzy spell from the lack of oxygen overtaking him. He slumped against Jaspinky. “I expect a letter every night, Wakko.”

If Wakko replied, his voice was lost in Yakko and Dot’s chatter over their travel plans. Brainladdin and Jaspinky were deposited on the balcony, Brainladdin finally recovering his vision so he could see the siblings off.

“Bye-bye! Bring back souvenirs! Troz!” Jaspinky shouted, his jewelry jingling as he waved goodbye to the siblings.

“Farewell for now,” Brainladdin said, crossing his arms over his chest. Best to act like he was ruling ACMEbah after all. He tried not to squeeze too tightly, if only to stop the slight ache in his chest from all this emotional nonsense.  

“You heard them! Let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Yakko shouted, and he shot into the sky like a firework with Wakko and Dot in his arms. The two screamed in delight, their laughter echoing off the buildings of ACMEbah. “Let’s give the lovebirds some space!”

“We’re history!” Dot yelled.

“We’re mythology!” Wakko added.

“I DON’T CARE WHAT WE ARE! WE’RE FREE!”

In a shower of magic, they shot across the sky and were gone, off to tour the world to celebrate their new lives.

Jaspinky waved to the sky for a moment longer, then turned to Brainladdin, that stupid, silly, wonderful smile on his face. “I’ve got sweetcakes and tea in the kitchen. Do you want any?”

Brainladdin rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Jaspinky.”

They headed to the kitchen, walking hand-in-hand, never to be separated again.

o-o-o-o-o

Colorful fireworks burst around them, lighting up the night sky in flares of red and green and blue. The stars shone from above, the earth and all its worries far beneath them. A breeze tugged them along, the magic carpet pulling this way and that with no clear destination in mind. But they didn’t need one.

Whichever way the winds blow, as they say.

“Look, Brainladdin! Another letter!” Jaspinky pointed to a paper drifting towards them, protected by a cloud of Yakko’s magic. He leaned over the side in his excitement to grab it out of the air. Brainladdin kept hold of Jaspinky’s tail just in case, though the magic carpet was sentient enough to lift that side up to prevent accidental falls. The letter floated into Pinky’s hand, and he scrambled back to Brainladdin, showing off the letter proudly. “It’s a J! Wakko’s very good with oregano. I wish he’d teach me!”

He really should’ve been more clear with his expectations for Wakko.  

“That’s a Y, Jaspinky. And oregano is a spice. This is the paper craft known as origami.” Brainladdin tucked the Y inside the folds of his royal robe for safekeeping. It would go nicely with the W and D that were already on his nightstand.

“Oh. Well then, it’s a very nice Y!”

“Yes, it’s constructed well.”

Another firework flared, and Jaspinky oohed and awwed at the wondrous sight, his eyes ever an innocent, pretty blue. He’d picked a new outfit for tonight: a purple crop top with matching pants and headband, a see through, puffy material that framed his bare shoulders wonderfully, and golden earrings.

The fireworks paled in comparison.

Jaspinky gasped in awe. “Look, Brainladdin! A shooting star! What’d you wish for?”

Brainladdin glanced at the canopy above, where a meteor shower zipped through the upper atmosphere. “You first.”

“Narf! Alright. I wished for a world where we can all be happy! Your turn!”

Sentimental, yet thoughtful. Of course.  

“I wish…for our lives to be fulfilling.”

Jaspinky smiled. “Looks like our wishes came true then.”

“An astute observation,” Brainladdin said.  

Jaspinky kissed him, and warmth flooded through Brainladdin’s body. They soared into the starry horizon, the full moon shining from afar. A new world awaited them.

AN: This…uh…this is way longer than I intended it to be. I hope you enjoyed this story. This is my first time writing the Warner siblings, so I combined some of the posts Deez-art made about this AU for my characterization of them. I apologize if they were out of character, but I did have fun with them. Especially Dot. For some reason her dialogue is just fun to write.

Also, Brain angsts too easily. That’s why this story is almost 7000 words.

Some of the dialogue comes directly from the 1992 Aladdin movie.

I HAVE LISTENED TO A WHOLE NEW WORLD HOW MANY TIMES FOR THIS STORY. THIS ISN’T THE FIRST TIME I’VE DONE THIS EITHER. I NEED NEW LOVE SONGS.

As for why this story is published on AO3 instead of FFN, it’s just easier to tag this sort of thing there.

#pinky and the brain #brinky #brainladdin au #patb fanfiction

[sparklingchan]

Dancing with a Stranger || Lee Minho (Stray Kids)

Pairing :  Reader (fem.) x Lee Know

Word count: 6k+

Warnings: Cuss words, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a break up, slight violence and blood (its nothing intense, I swear) ,suggestive towards the end, not proof read.

Genre: Angst , fluff, boyfriend AU , break up - make up AU.

Description : Lee Minho is the best boyfriend you could have ever asked for but when you end up doing the only thing he had begged you not to do, things start going downhill.

Author’s Note: I KNOW I SAID I’LL POST THIS ON MY BIRTHDAY but I am an impatient person and I really wanted everyone to read this asap :( This imagine is one of my personal favorites and like Boyfriend!Minho really hits different, won’t you agree? (Reposting because tumblr decided to be a bitch and not show up my fic in the tags? It’s 2 AM and I’m legit crying?? I was so excited about this) Yeh le @chogiwow​ !

Please do reblog, like and send in your views about this fic. I’m always happy to receive DMs and asks!

Enjoy!

It is really funny how a crowded, happening place like your college corridor turns into a cold ,eerie location of some prospective gruesome crimes by sun down. But then again , if you really think about it , maybe it’s not much of a ‘prospect’ at all.

Your knuckles start stinging first ,spreading then to your palm and the rest of your arm.

And the horrifying yet unavoidable realization finally dawns on you - you shouldn’t have punched your professor’s daughter.

“Y-you! You bitch! How dare you touch me?” She has this annoyingly loud voice that pierces through the tense air like a bullet. The prettiest girl on campus , the nicest of them all, the most desirable , but anyone who sees her right now, would be convinced she is neither of those things. Excluding you , of course , because you always knew how double faced and rude she was behind the mask of a pure princess.

“You should have kept your mouth shut then, Anya.” You say , hoping that the girl in front of you doesn’t notice the sudden fear in your voice that has replaced your authoritative tone from before.

But you can’t back off now.

Anya stumbles back with her mouth wide open , clutching her jaw as she curses under her breath , “My mother will hear about this ! I will get you expelled !”

“Oh yeah? Try me and the only thing your mother will hear about is what you and our lovely class president John do in the basement when she isn’t home.” You shoot back. You mentally want to slap yourself for that sharp tongue of yours that refuses to stop any time sooner. You had always wished that you’d gotten your father’s gentleness but sadly , you were the fateful heir of your mother’s roughness.

Anya doesn’t reply , instead , she throws herself at you , pushing you harshly against the lockers .And it is not long before her balled fists find a way to your nose , punching so hard that you literally feel the blood dripping down your face. You are so glad that all the students and staff have already gone home , you’d have hated for anyone to witness this.

“You will never lay your filthy hands on me again, y/l/n. ” she wraps her left hand around your throat while the other one pulls your hair with the strength of a bull. You scream in pain. Your body goes limp for a second - not from pain but from fear , but you realise it’s too late now. You should have thought about your fears before punching Anya.

Now all you can do is save yourself and escape.

The numbing pain from your scalp spreads through your head , going down your face and then attacking your throat. It gets harder to breathe.

“I’ll tell you what , Anya , you deserved it. You deserved all of it. ” you croak , “I told you to stop spreading filthy rumours about my cousin but you didn’t stop , I told you to stop bothering me but you didn’t listen. And now you’ve gone as far as spreading bullshit about my boyfriend who you’ve never even met ! I hate to break this to you but all of this is not going to make your trash personality any cooler. ”

Anya yelps with anger , increasing the grip on your throat and hair as you kick your legs helplessly, coughing .

“Shut up, y/l/n .” She growls , “ and as a matter of fact, Your boyfriend is just a mere dancer , how funny. An A-grade college student dating a poor street dancer. What happened , y/n, ran out of good guys for yourself?”

You want to yell at her and tell her that Minho is anything but a mere street dancer . He’s an amazingly talented artist who loves expressing himself through dancing , he’s a hardworking and honest person who is part of the country’s biggest dancing crew , and he’s your safe place , your home , your everything and god save anyone who dare hurt him.

But you bite your tongue this time.

“What now? Afraid ?” Anya raises her eyebrow, her lips curving into an ugly, sadistic smile.

You hate that smile.

You use one of your free hands to grab her hair while the other one slams hard against her jaw.

“Shit.” She mutters , falling back into the hallway.

But you’re not done yet.

You walk toward her with furious eyes and balled fists , and it isn’t long before she lands on the floor on her butt with a bloody nose and a black eye.

“Keep your mouth shut or you’ll end up on a hospital bed next time. In a coma. ” you spit out those words while she holds her tears back, face caked with humiliation.

Then you turn on your heels and walk out of the stupid college campus which would yet again be filled with more bullies by tomorrow morning, just like it has for centuries.

The dorm in which Minho lives almost always smells like freshly baked cookies ( courtesy: Lee Felix) and on rare occasions, it smells like burnt pancakes ( also courtesy: Lee Felix). Today , it smells like the former and you sigh in relief.

“Oh , my god ,y/n. What happened?” Changbin opens the door after you knock thrice , “Minho, dude, Come out , y/n is here!”

You shuffle into their big living room , head hanging low and eyes avoiding all sorts of confrontation , afraid of having to explain your stupid behavior.

“Y/n?” Minho sucks in a deep breath at your sorry sight , his eyes glazed with dread and fear as he walks toward you, ”Oh god, what happened?”

He swiftly takes out a handkerchief from his pockets , pressing it against your bleeding nose. His eyes are glossy with fear.

“I-it’s nothing. I fell down the stairs.” You lie. Can he please shut up and hug you already? You hate his questions so much , especially when you just can’t answer him.

“Y/n , that is not what a fall looks like. I’m not stupid. Whom did you beat up this time?” He asks , crossing his arms across his chest. And you really do almost blurt out the truth because it’s that easy for you to open up to him and because he knows you like no one else does. You’ve dated him long enough for him to know you like the back of his own hand. And that sometimes gets you in so much trouble. Lying to him is a near impossible task.

“Y/n, look at me!” He says , slightly annoyed now. He touches your chin gently, coaxing you to look at him but you’re too afraid to face him right now. Too guilty. So you shrug him off and walk into his shared room with Hyunjin, a homely feeling enveloping you almost instantly.

“Y/n, don’t you dare ignore me.”

Ugh. He can be so nosy at times.

“I came here for comfort , not for an interrogation. ” you pout , plopping down on the bed.

Minho scoffs , closing the door behind him. He wears a loose black t-shirt with a pair of shorts , and he smells like the expensive shampoo you had bought for him a few months ago ,which he initially refused to take but now loves it. He looks so good and smells so good and suddenly all you want to do is cuddle him and talk about his day, with his Winnie The Pooh blanket draped around your bodies.

“You aren’t getting any comfort till you tell me what happened.” He says . He stands with his back against the door , and stares at you as if you were a criminal. Maybe you were one ,but that doesn’t mean he’ll hate you or something ,right?

“Did you hit the professor’s daughter?” He asks when you don’t answer even after two whole minutes. Your stomach does a somersault, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You regret telling him about Anya a few weeks ago and you specifically saying that you’d one day ’ punch her brains out ’. You wish you’d shut up sometimes.

You play with your fingers, staring at your feet. You can’t look him in the eye anymore , not when you did the exact (and only) thing he had asked you not to do. You feel horribly guilty.

“Well in my defense, she was being a bitch ,okay? She was calling you a good for nothing dancer and ugly and underqualified and - ” you sigh , “ My point is, I couldn’t bear listening to all that, okay?” You admit , cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Minho doesn’t answer, very unusual of him by the way, and you snap your head to look at him.

The eyes that had once held concern and fear for your well being now are clouded with disappointment . He’s mad at you.

“She’s not wrong though. I am a good for nothing dancer, I go to a stupid cyber college. Nothing worth fighting over. Why the fuck did you put yourself in danger like that!” And he’s yelling now , his relaxed posture from before now replaced with a tensed one. You notice his clenched fists and teeth ,and you shudder with fear. He is furious. But at what? You don’t really know.

“Are you seriously justifying her actions? Minho, she can’t talk shit about you. I will not let her do that! ” You yell back ,getting up from the bed , “She doesn’t even know you!”

“Which is exactly why her opinions on my lifestyle do not matter ! And you don’t have to just go around acting like my bodyguard all the time!” He says.

Your heart drops, brows furrowed in confusion at his words that feel like a dagger is plunged into your heart.

You walk up to him, trying to take his hand in yours but he extracts it right back. “I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking. You know how crazy I get when I’m angry.”

“A ’ sorry ’ doesn’t suffice it. The damage is already done. And if tomorrow, you are thrown out of the university, who’s fault would it be? ” he presses his hand to his face, trying to calm himself down , “I can’t believe I am dating such an immature woman ,y /n. Grow the fuck up, will you?” He says , his anger filled eyes staring right into your soul . Your heart breaks into millions of small pieces , as your breath hitches in your throat. He had never said something so harsh to you in the many years that you’ve dated him and you really wish he hadn’t done it today either because you realise you’re not very good at handling hurtful words, especially from Minho. At all.

“Minho , I know you’re angry - ”

“Leave.” The world stops spinning for a second , your eyes widening with shock, “Go home. Don’t come back again.”

You want to cry but tears seemed to have given up on you too , his words striking you harder than any of Anya’s punches ever did. All your feelings seem to have converted into a much worse state of numbness when those words leave his mouth.

“Y-you are not breaking up with me, right?” Your usually loud voice comes out as a whisper.

“I am. Go, please. I don’t want to see you right now.” He opens the room door for you to exit, his eyes never meeting yours. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, a sign that he’s about to tear up yet you don’t know if he wants too be comforted by you right now, or ever. So picking up the remaining pieces of your damaged heart , you walk out of the room , stopping only to glance over at him one last time , in hopes that he’d change his mind. But no, his angry demeanor is still there , strong and tough and unbreakable.

And when you finally leave , Minho is grateful that Hyunjin wasn’t home - for he would have hated to cry in front of his roommate.

The bright neon sign with ’ Kim’s Restaurant ’ written on it shines in the distance , blurred only by the tears in your eyes and not by the tiny droplets of water slowly falling from the sky.

You feel a soft blanket of comfort draping over you when you walk toward the familiar building.

Your aunt and uncle have worked hard to build a proper business from a small shop that had once just sold fried chicken and cold drinks ; and it makes you so happy to see their new restaurant still packed with people this late in the evening.

“Oh , y/n. I was just about to call you. Did you not go to your dorm yet? ” your aunt asks from the reception desk , chewing her favorite gum and typing aggressively into the computer.

“I stayed back today. Project work.” You lie. Your aunt lifts up her head , her eyebrows knitted together and a suspicious scowl gracing her face , almost mimicking your mother. Your mom and your aunt are twin sisters , born just three minutes apart , and since then it has become your mom’s life mission to remind your aunt of the whooping three minute gap every chance she gets. It’s hilarious, really.

“Don’t make that face at me. You look exactly like mom.” You mutter , leaning against the wooden desk.

“I do look exactly like your mom , y/n. ” she replies with a chuckle, “Anyway, what’s going on? You look tired.”

Honestly, you’d love to talk about Minho and the impulsive breakup and the aching in your heart with your aunt because there’s no better person to seek advice from, but you don’t feel it right to burden her when she’s working plus a part of you doesn’t really trust your aunt to keep all the secrets to herself.

“No, I’m okay. Just mid college crisis.” you say.

Your aunt hums in response, probably not buying it but you’re happy she doesn’t push it anymore, “ Are you hungry? Want something to eat?”

A bag of fries with a bucket full of chicken wings sounds terribly tempting right now but you’ve lost all your appetite for the day the moment Minho closed the door behind you. Now all you feel is drained, tired, sad. Moreover, that is not what you were here for, “Nah, I’m good. Is Yugyeom home though?”

The door to your aunt’s house opens only after you ring the stupid bell at least three times , as you stand on the porch, judging the loud music that blasts from within the walls. “Wow , you look like shit.” Yugyeom always has some snarky comments up his sleeve but you are in no mood to be playing word games with him right now. You barge into the house , pushing past your cousin who you smells like donuts and Axe.

“Shut up.” You say, plopping down on his bed . You really want to cry right now but Yugyeom has never been big on consoling so you try to hold it in .

“What’s wrong? I’m not joking.” He sits beside you, putting down his gaming console on the table by the bed.

You play with your fingers , breathing in and out to calm your nerves. Yugyeom, out of all the people in the world , is the easiest to talk to but today , you find yourself on the edge , trying to be very careful with your choice of words. Maybe you were afraid of angering him as well.

“I..I kind of beat Anya up.” You confess ,swallowing the lump in your throat.

Yugyeom becomes still for a moment , staring at you with his mouth gaping and then his face breaks into the widest grin in the world.

“You really beat that bitch up? Like for real?” He asks , excitedly bro fisting the air like an athlete after winning an important match.

You nod , “And then I went to see Minho. He obviously didn’t react the way you did. He was very angry and then he broke up with me. ”

Yugyeom’s celebrations are short lived as you continue to tell him the details of what had happened earlier, his smile slowly dissolving into a frown.

“Y/n, first of all you really need to learn how to break news to other people. It’s always the bad one first and then the good one. Noob.” Yugyeom bumps his shoulder softly to yours. You would otherwise have argued with him and told him why the happy news should always be first and why the bad news should be last but you feel too exhausted to speak anymore. Your shoulders slump as you put your hands on either side of your head.

“How could he just break up with me like that? He had no logical reason to! He’s so selfish.” You mutter , tears gathering up in your eyes. You try to blink them away before your cousin notices them.

“I don’t think he did it for himself , y/n. You told him that you hit Anya because she was speaking trash about him. Of course he’d distance himself from you so you wouldn’t want to fight his fights for him.” Yugyeom says.

“I wasn’t fighting his fights! She trash talks about you and me and him and everyone else. It was the last straw for me. I didn’t do anything wrong. ” you explain , your heart hammering against your chest.

“I didn’t say what you did was wrong ,y/n. You have a right to be angry with her. But what we’re talking about is Minho. Think about this from his point of view,” Yugyeom replies, his hands on your shoulders , “You beat Anya up , got hurt and possibly put yourself in trouble with her mother all because of him. He feels guilty.” Yugyeom is speaking to you like he’s speaking in one of those debates that he does at college. You love seeing him speak, mostly because he is so manipulative yet subtle , smart yet observant and he can convince you so easily. He could easily pass as the best debater in your college - too bad you’d already taken that place.

“Or it could be because he doesn’t want more trouble in his account. Maybe he’s ashamed of me. ” you whisper, “ And I told you, I didn’t do it just for him. I did it for me and you too and all those people she bullies and makes fun of. Why is he the only one reacting like this? ”

Yugyeom sighs, “Yes , I appreciate your concern for my well being, y/n. But he might not be thinking the same way as I am. I was happy that you beat Anya up , but he was worried about you. He obviously doesn’t want you to get badly hurt.”

You rub the tears that flow down your face with the heel of your hand then place your head on Yugyeom ’s shoulder.

“He might have fallen out of love with me. Maybe he just needed an excuse to call it off.” You mutter.

“You know Minho’s better than that, y/n.”

He’s right . Minho really is better than that.

Break ups suck. In the truest sense. But what you now realize is that break ups don’t hurt that much immediately, but slowly , as the days go by and the memories start flashing in front of your eyes every waking moment , you feel like nothing more than a sack of meat and bones, drained of all emotions.

“For this unit of organic chemistry, I need all of you to memorise the reaction mechanisms over the weekend.” Your professor’s voice feels distant to you , as if there were a wall in between the two of you , even though he stands just a few steps away.

Your classmates start murmuring among themselves, fixing study dates that almost always are unsuccessful and gathering notes they hadn’t bothered to complete until now. But you remain seated in your chair , staring out the window, not bothering to talk to anyone.

It is a bright sunny afternoon and you see all the happy faces out on the field - couples, friends , classmates. You feel jealous. You clearly remember planning a weekend trip with Minho a few days ago and If you hadn’t decided to mess things up so bad, he’d have already been at your college gate by now , waiting in his father’s old car. You clearly remember how excited he was about the trip.

The dismissal bell rings not long after and as you walk out of the college gate, surrounded by thousands of students, you feel lonelier as ever. And your mind imagines his car below the tall banyan tree , his lean frame leaning against the door with a silly grin. You could almost see him there. Even though its just in your mind.

You miss him so much that it gets hard for you to even breathe properly.

“Okay , how long are we going to stay here? I have better things to do than stalk your girlfriend, Lee.” Changbin’s whiny voice breaks the silence in Minho’s car, much to his annoyance.

“Just a few more minutes. Till she reaches the dorm.” Minho replies , his hand limp on the steering wheel and his lips pressed in a tense line.

His eyes are focused on you , your slump shoulders and your unusually slow walk and the dark circles under your eyes. It is obvious that Minho wasn’t the only one having sleepless nights .

“Dude , why don’t you just talk to her? I’m sure she would listen.” Hyunjin says from the backseat , munching on peanuts, “ Plus I think she saw us.”

Minho watches as you turn around a corner and walk toward your dorm building , away from him. He almost wishes you’d seen him.

“It’s not that easy.” Minho mutters, turning the engine on.

At least he knows you’re okay, and safe. That’s enough reassurance for him to try and move on but he somehow always ends up driving to your college gates during dismissal,  the brief view of your face still making the worst of his days better.

“It’s not that easy.” He repeats to reassure himself .

“Guess what.” Yugyeom chimes in early one morning, leaning against the locker door beside yours.

“What?” You ask , not sparing him a glance. Your hands busy themselves in flipping over the pages of your notebook ; last minute revisions before tests are more important than the actual studying.

“I saw Anya this morning. She was running late , I think, and she bumped into a junior near the gate. I was sure all hell was about to break loose but she just apologized and left!” Yugyeom says , laughing.

You turn to look at him, a look of surprise plastered on your face. Anya actually did that? Instead of being her usual, defensive, violent self she actually chose to apologize? It’s hard to digest but you’re sure Yugyeom wouldn’t be making all that up. He’s not that creative.

“The sun must have risen from West today.” You reply with a chuckle.

The morning bell rings throughout the corridor, indicating the commencement of your classes. Throwing in your notebook ,you close your locker and heave a sigh. Its just a small quiz but you find yourself stressing over every single thing these days.

“Oh and by the way , it’s Jackson Wang’s birthday party tomorrow.” Yugyeom adds as the two of you start making your way towards the chemistry lab , coats hanging by your arms.

“And we’re going?” You question ,cocking your eyebrow.

Yugyeom is not really into parties , especially the over-the-top , spectacular , rich-kid parties that Jackson Wang often finds himself throwing, yet Yugyeom always goes because a) Jackson is his best friend and b) Who doesn’t like to feel like a rich man even if it’s just for one night?

“Yes. Both of us.” He says. You shrug your shoulders. You have always liked going to Jackson ’s parties and fawning over his huge mansion and the various cuisines placed in front of you that you can’t even name properly and watching other rich kids like himself play golf in the living room. It was pretty entertaining . Even with your post break up gloominess, you wouldn’t want to miss all of that.

“Okay.”

“And one more thing,” he starts ,“I saw Lee Minho outside our college gate yesterday. You might want to do something about that.”

No, unlike what was expected of you, you didn’t really do anything about it but Yugyeom’s words stick to you like a piece of gum throughout the whole day ,consuming every thought and pulling out all those thoughts that you’d stacked up and thrown away into the top most drawers of your mind. You were convinced that the day he broke up with you , he was done. He didn’t want to look back or reconsider. He wasn’t coming back to you. And you’ve been trying to move on as best as you could ,keeping your mind occupied and busy all the time. Yet you had to accept that in the wee hours of the night , staring at the ceiling ,you would often find yourself reminiscing him and whatever you two had. The gentle touches , the late night walks, shy smiles and endless talks ; you missed them.

But his presence outside the college changes the whole game, doesn’t it?

Later that day, you kind of regret agreeing to go to Jackson’s party because you soon realised that both Minho and Jackson went to the same dancing school at one point of time , and Minho probably (like a 99.9% probability because Jackson Wang never leaves anyone uninvited) was invited too.

You dread every second in Yugyeom’s stupid car that brings you one more step closer to seeing Lee Minho again. And although you would never dare say it out loud , a part of you was a little excited too.

“Dude , y/n , I have never felt so underdressed in my entire life.” Yugyeom breathes in as the car stops in front of the huge metal gates of Jackson’s mansion.

“Me neither.” You agree, your eyes glued to the people walking in and out of the doors, wearing tuxedos and dresses and sparkly jewelry. You feel horribly out of place all of a sudden, like a fish flying in the sky and a bird swimming deep under the water- you feel like you don’t belong here.

You look down at your black converse , tightly laced and washed for this very party and your loose ,dark green tshirt and ripped jeans .

“Why didn’t you tell me this was a fucking masquerade ball or soemthing?"you hiss at your cousin.

"Shut up, y/n , you’re not the only one feeling odd. ” Yugyeom shoots back

But all of that discomfort is gone the moment you see Jackson Wang sitting on the huge sofa in the living room , wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a white tank top , drunk and wasted and blabbering.

“Let’s go before he sees us.” Yugyeom says , pushing you through the crowds of people clad in silks and pure cotton , “Drunk Jackson is difficult to handle.”

“Oh , I beg to differ , All Jacksons are difficult to handle.”

The garden behind the mansion is filled with even more people than your brain was accustomed to seeing while the DJ stands at the top of a platform , headphones on and screaming into the mic every once in a while to hype up the crowd in front of him , but you realise it’s hardly needed. People are already way too hyped up in here.

“Y/n?” You hear a voice say and you immediately turn around to face Hwang Hyunjin standing under the wonderful night sky, looking as gorgeous as ever. But then again ,when does he not look pretty?

“Hey, Hyunjin. How have you been?” You ask with a smile. Your awkward hand movements do not go unnoticed by him but he thankfully doesn’t comment on it.

“I’ve been good. How have you been ?” He replies , inching closer to you. From the corner of your eye, you see Yugyeom slowing disappearing into the crowds, leaving you all alone to deal with your ex boyfriend’s best friend. You make a mental note to never lend your Netflix account to him again.

“I’m okay, too.” You say.

Hyunjin nods, his eyes staring at you curiously, “Tell me , y/n , how have you really been? I know what happened between you and Minho.”

You gulp , heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about it.” You say, biting the inside of your cheeks nervously.

“If you say so.” he grins , putting an arm around you , “But I’ll be real honest with you , Minho - ”

The words are cut off when the DJ suddenly blasts a new song through the speakers , simultaneously yelling into the mic. The sweaty, wasted , hopeless crowd around you yell a few ’ Let’s GO! ’s and ’ Fuck It Up ’s in response.

“What were you saying?” You yell over the music , pinching Hyunjin’s t-shirt to get his attention. He glances at back you then points toward his left , “That.”

You turn your head in that direction , your heart skipping a beat the moment your eyes meet Minho’s nervous ones. You see him walk towards you in long strides ,his handsome features painted with anxiousness and worry and a foreign sense of guilt. You were angry at him ,yes ,but as he makes his way to you , his silky hair bouncing softly ,his pink lips slightly parted, his starry eyes locked on you ,he looks…Brilliant? Breathtaking? Gorgeous? Stunning? All of these?

He wears a blue tshirt with black pants and has a jacket tied around his waist. He looks beautiful- even though you are mad at him. He looks way too beautiful to not acknowledge it.

And just a few seconds before he reaches you , you break away from Hyunjin’s hold and run away into the crowd.

“Y/n, wait!” You hear the both of them yell at the same time. But only one of them follows behind you and you don’t even have to look back to know who it is.

Fear and anger creep into your body , slow but painful like poison. You remember the last few days and how horrible it had been for you , all because of Minho and his lack of understanding in a moment when it was needed the most. Over the past few weeks, your ex boyfriend had made no attempts to contact you whatsoever and if he thinks he could just pop out of nowhere and start talking to you again, then he’s gravely mistaken. You might still love him and want nothing more than to hold him close , but that doesn’t mean you aren’t angry anymore . You are not ready to face him. At all.

Your feet burn as you run further away from Minho, jogging up the stairs inside the mansion with your hand tightly gripping the cold metal railing.

“Y/n, please, just listen to me once.” He yells, still not giving up.

You scoff , “Why should I? You didn’t listen to me that day either!”

You find a door at the end of the staircase, your hands pushing it to reach the empty terrace that you’d heard Jackson bragging about during your English classes when everyone was too bored to listen to the professor. The terrace really was beautiful, with all kinds of flowers blooming and a fountain with lights , you would have almost been breath taken if not for the man closing up behind you.

“Y/n, damnit, ” Minho huffs, reaching his hand out toward you, panting, “Stop, okay? Just listen to me , please.”

Not like you have an option anyway. You sigh in defeat , walking toward the fountain, the carpet grass rustling under your feet. “What?” You demand, your voice bitter with anger.

Minho stands in front of you , his brown unkempt hair and firey eyes reminding you of the night you guys had kissed for the first time. He stands at an arm’s distance, giving you enough space to think things through. He would never want to force you to do something you wouldn’t want to. And even if everything turned out to be not in his favor tonight, he’d gladly accept it because he deserved it after treating you so badly.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers after a few seconds.

You roll your eyes, “For what? What did you do? As far as I know, THE Lee Minho never makes mistakes!”

He hangs his head low with shame ; he didn’t mean a single word he’d said that night. He was worried, yes, he was very worried about your bashful attitude but he was also very grateful to you for always having his back. It physically hurt him to see you bleeding and completely worn out that day.

“Well, I did make a mistake this time. I said some words that I didn’t mean at all and I’m afraid the girl I intended those words at hates me.” He says , pressing his lips in a line.

“Damn right , she does.” You can’t even look into his eyes anymore because you’re too afraid of laying your true feelings bare in front of him.

“I’m really, really sorry, baby. I know I’m an asshole and I hurt you. I have no excuses to offer but I just want you to know that a single second more away from you will drive me crazy. ”

You process his sentences slowly - letter by letter, inking those words permanently into your memories. “Why?” You ask. What a silly question ,y/n, do you really want to torment this man so much ?

Minho gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement, “Because you’re quite literally my everything.”

Minho only dares to grin a little when you no longer throw virtual daggers from your eyes at him. “I hate you , you know?” You say.

“I know ,y/n. I don’t even blame you. I shouldn’t have said all that. I was just so, so mad. But that really wasn’t an excuse to be so rude to you or break up. I should have talked it out instead . I deserve the hate.” He admits.

The frown on your lips dissipates slowly ,making way for a sad, small smile.

“It was so hard, Minho. You don’t even know. I had never felt so lonely in my entire life.” You say.

“Believe me, y/n, I know.” He whispers as your hands find their way to his cheeks, rubbing them ever so gently.

You scan his face, absorbing in the fact that he was actually in front of you and this wasn’t one of your unrealistic imaginations.

Minho takes not more than a half step towards you and you automatically wrap your arms around his neck , like the millions of times you’d already done before. Everything about him is so familiar yet so new. Like layers and layers to discover and only one goddamn lifetime.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck , mumbling soft apologies against your skin, his arms tightening around your waist with every passing second.

“I missed you so much.” You admit, playing with his beautiful brown locks, taking in the smell of his (your) favorite body wash.

“I missed you too.” He replies , “So goddamn much. I almost wanted to cuddle Hwang Hyunjin at night.”

You laugh ,as he admires the way your noes scrunches up when you giggle and the way your eyes bend into crescent moons. In that moment, Minho realises how much he loves seeing you laugh ,especially when he’s the reason behind it. It fills him up with so much pride.

You hear the DJ change the song into a slow , romantic one as his voice booms through the speakers once again , “Ladies and gentlemen, grab the person next to you, with consent of course, and hold them close for this one because tonight is all about dancing with strangers!”

The crowd goes feral.

Minho raises an eyebrow at the DJ’s words , a sly smile playing on his lips , “Shall we?”

He pulls away from the embrace, gently bowing toward you and offering you his hand like some gentleman right out of a fairytale.

“He said dancing with a stranger, not girlfriend.” You deadpan but you take his hand anyway.

He chuckles, leaning closer to rest his forehead on yours, “Technically, we’re still broken up. That makes us strangers.”

You have to give in - not because of his weird reasoning but because of how terribly cute he looks when he smiles like that at you. He holds you close, swaying slowly to the music and grinning like there’s no tomorrow.

“What’s so funny, Lee Minho?” You ask , raising your eyebrow.

He shakes his head, still grinning, “I just realised how rare it is to find a woman who would quite literally declare war for you.”

“Now, you’re exaggerating a little bit with the war thing but yes, that’s the essence of it.” You reply with a proud smile.

He laughs, as you put your hand on his cheek once again and press your lips softly to his. You’d missed this so much - not just kissing him but also this feeling of intimacy you share with him everytime you’re in a closed space, sharing the same air. You missed his teasing, his stupidly sweet laughter, the warmth of his embrace. You missed Lee Minho - your safe place, your best friend, your world.

And even after everything, you both know for sure that you would fight the world for Minho if need be, and he’d do the exact same thing for you. Every single time.

#inkidz #writekpop #starryktown #kafenetwork #stayhavennet #skz #skz kpop #kpop imagines #kpop ff #kpop bias #skz ff #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz angst #skz fluff #skz lee know #skz minho #stray kids #stray kids lee know #skz smut #skz lee know ff #skz lee know fanfic #skz lee know fluff #skz x reader #skz icons #skz felix #skz changbin #skz scenarios #skz series #skz soft icons

[shipaholic]

Omens Universe, Chapter 9 Part 2

Posting a little early today!

Mention of guns.

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 9, cont. 2019

Sunday, six days until Armageddon

The shadows were long in the garden. It was summer, and the sun had begun to think about slipping placidly beneath the skyline. The leaves of the apple tree dappled the orange light upon the lawn. They swayed in a humid breeze.

A glum-looking ten-year-old sat swinging his legs on the sturdiest branch. Next to him, coiled up and listening intently, was a large black snake.

“She said it made me look grown-up.” The boy gave a careworn laugh.

“Ugh,” said the snake, sympathetically.

“She’s a grown-up, and she gets to keep her hair long. I told her, I’m growing it for a reason. Don’t want everyone staring at this stupid thing all day, do I?”

Adam gloomily scratched his close-cropped hair. His nails raked the base of a red, curled horn on the left side of his head.

“Tarquin’s going to be here, and he’s gonna call me rhinoceros-head all day.”

“Headbutt him,” suggested Crowley.

“I did once, and his dad threatened to sue.”

That sounded about right, from what Crowley gathered about the Dowlings’ social set.

“I don’t get why she wants me to be normal and not head-butt people, but then she takes me down to a weird old barber who smells like dad when she’s throwing a fancy dinner, and shaves all my hair off. I’m practically bald now. It’s all everyone’s going to talk about.”

“Weeell.” Crowley wiggled his head from side to side. “You know, being the birthday kid has its perks.”

Adam gave him a withering look. “Like what, getting the secret service to karate chop them? I’ve tried that, too. Nobody listens to me.” He sighed, theatrically.

Crowley said nothing. Adam clearly hadn’t grasped that what he had just said was categorically untrue.

“Sometimes they really don’t listen,” Adam mused. He tilted back to stare into the leaves. “Like, they can’t hear me. Like someone’s scooped their brains out.”

Crowley’s long body gave a nervous twitch.

“Once I asked Dad if he used to hear voices at night, too, and he screamed.” Adam looked disturbed in remembrance. “Like he’d stayed up all night watching fifteen-rated movies. That’s how scared he looked. And then he looked at me and it was like he forgot what had just happened, and he looked confused and scared. And then he smiled and asked me what I wanted for my birthday.” Adam shook his head in disgust.

Crowley was unsurprised. The mental disintegration of the remaining humans left in this place was a long time in the mix. There was only so much memory erasure, perception alteration, and of course walking in on eldritch horrors using the bathroom,[1] that the human mind could take. The demons had got bolder the more their numbers grew. The last human staff member had broken down, weeping, five months ago, and been promptly replaced by a motivated imp. The only people, besides the Dowlings, who had stayed on were secret service members, though turnover was still high, and the men and women Crowley saw patrolling the grounds stroked their guns for reassurance a lot, even by American standards.

If Crowley had been in charge of this operation - just saying - the whole thing would have been handled discreetly, with subtlety and finesse. But Hastur simply loved being cartoonishly appalling, so there they were.

“Thing is,” Adam said, “I don’t even know what I want for my birthday.”

Crowley was aware what one present in particular would be. They’d all been briefed on it at the beginning of the week. He spied on Adam from the corner of his eye.

“Don’t suppose you’ve ever thought about getting a pet?” he said, so nonchalantly the words strolled out in a smoking jacket, lighting up.

“Oh yeah. I could get a real snake.” Adam brightened.

Crowley was offended. “Rude. Just saying.”

“It is a bit weird, though. Having an imaginary talking snake. Nobody else does. It’s probably because they’ve all got pets and brothers and sisters and stuff. I could get a snake with a machine gun in its mouth.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Or, a snake that shoots poison out of a machine gun.”

Crowley didn’t bother to point out that some snakes could spit poison without the aid of a machine gun attachment.

“You’ll never get a real snake that talks to you,” he said.

Adam shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. You’re not really talking. I’m making up your half of the conversation, aren’t I? I’m really just talking to myself.”

Crowley could say nothing to that.

“Be nice not to have to talk to myself for once,” Adam muttered.

Crowley couldn’t fault him for that. He’d missed a lot of things, the past seventy-eight years. High on the list was someone to talk to. The closest thing he had to a conversation partner was a boy who didn’t even believe he was real. And who was going to bring all life on the planet to an end later that week.

~*~

Wednesday, three days until Armageddon

Crowley skulked around the edge of the lawn, glaring at anyone who looked like they wanted a canape.

The Dowling’s back garden had been taken over by a marquee the size of a small chapel. The sweet, piping voices of children rent the air, while their parents milled, schmoozed and mingled. Many of them gave confused looks to the rows of decapitated stems in the flower beds. Ligur had been busy.

Crowley’s white waiter’s coat was stiff as a straightjacket, which suited him fine. What a bloody awful decade this had been. He was keen to see the back of it. Less keen to see the back of literally everything else.

Shit. He didn’t want the apocalypse. But there was nothing he could do. Even if he’d come up with some feeble plan to nudge the whole thing off-course, he was alone down here. The last time he’d had an ally he could have turned to for aid, Britain was at war with Germany. It would have been a stupid plan, anyway. Never would have worked, whatever it would have been. The only thing that would have made it worthwhile would have been Aziraphale’s company while they worried away the last eleven years. Well, so much for that. It had been a toe-curling span of gradually hunching in on himself to contain his unvoiced scream. Frankly, he might as well try to feel relief that it was finally over. So long, Earth. It’s been real.

He looked up and saw the cherry on the sundae. Hastur and Ligur, each in a grubby version of Crowley’s server outfit, hulked up the lawn towards him.

“Hi guys,” he said as they reached him.

“Get in the marquee. We need eyes on the boy,” Hastur growled. Not so much as a howdy. Whatever.

Crowley nodded. The children were all being entertained in the marquee at present. The pre-adolescent shrieks had all concentrated in there for the past twenty minutes. Crowley was surprised none of his people were in there. For the last three days, the only glimpses he’d got of Adam were through a phalanx of demons flanking him. He secretly missed their bedtime chats.

“No-one else available?” he asked.

Hastur looked nauseated. “The bastards all fled. Nobody could stand to be in there.”

Crowley frowned. “I know children’s parties can be grim, guys, but we all knew what we were signing up for.”

“Nobody signed up to watch a godawful magician,” Ligur spat.

Crowley kept his face carefully blank. His stomach turned cartwheels.

“Really? That awful?”

“Worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Hastur looked haunted. This was a demon who volunteered for extra guard duty in Dis whenever they needed cheering up.

Crowley’s heartbeat picked up. There were, surely, lots of terrible magicians specialising in children’s birthday parties. Most of them, in fact. He shouldn’t let his imagination run away with him.

Hastur pulled themself[2] together. They leered at Crowley.

“Get in there, then.”

“Enjoy,” Ligur smirked.

They slunk away. Crowley ran a hand through his hair. He squared his shoulders and strutted towards the marquee at a controlled saunter. His steps only wobbled when he got close enough to brush the tent flap with his outstretched hand.

A posh, desperate voice prattled away inside. Crowley’s insides somersaulted.

He slipped into the tent.

A smattering of bored children sat on the floor at the front of the stage. The long-suffering secret service stood at intervals around the edges of the space.

At the front of the room, mugging in a dusty frock-coat and a pencilled-on moustache, was a face that Crowley knew better and more dearly than any on Earth.

He swallowed. Behind his shades, he blinked, hard.

It was Aziraphale.

---

[1] Demons were terrible about locking the door, and all other basic courtesies. It was a matter of unprinciple.

[2] Hastur viewed all human progressive values with bewildered contempt. However, their time in a female corporation had sparked a glimmer of self-knowledge, and they now embraced gender-fluidity. This did not affect their grooming habits in any way.

(Link to next part)

#omens universe fic #omens universe #good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #steven universe #this chapter Hastur became one of my faves #i must emphasize that Hastur still smells like poo #that's a universal constant

[witch-of-letters]

Our Work Is Never Done, Part 1/2 (Ezio Auditore x Reader)

Word Count: 4073

Summary: You are a Spanish Master Assassin who has accepted the contract to kill a low-ranked Templar in Rome. Ezio decides to lend you a hand, but even that doesn’t prevent the mission from going south.

Author’s Note #1: I’m really trying to break the ice mountain called ‘Writer’s Block’, so writing this fic and posting it is the first step to doing so. The plot is rather random, but it worked for me as it wasn’t that difficult to think through (my brain has difficulties with writing short stories though, lol, so that’s why I decided to divide the one-shot into two parts for easier reading).

Please note that there are rather negative references to the Christian religion, and the Reader is described as a fervent atheist. My work is purely fictional and is not meant to offend anyone. So without any further ado, relax, sit back, and enjoy reading this fic!

Author’s Note #2: Translations are at the end. Cursive - thoughts/emphasis/Italian. Bold cursive - places/Spanish

Feedback and comments are much appreciated ;3!

Chapter 2

     “Come forth and browse my wares! Fabrics from all over the Mediterranean sea!”  

     “Jewels! Buy some jewels! Necklace for a lady, a ring for a man!”  

     “Freshly baked pastries! Straight from the oven!”  

   Perched on the roof of a building, you watched as the merchants tried to turn people’s attention to their wares. Some of them took notice and approached the stalls, others simply ignored all the shouting, preferring to only look and move on. If it weren’t for the fact that you were on a mission, you would definitely buy some kind of trinket (courtesy of being paid handsomely for completing the contracts).

 For once, your target was an actual Templar rather than a sleazy and greedy noble, or some other little villain. Normally you preferred to leave them to the assassins of lower ranks, finding that while ridding towns and cities from evil was all good, your skills were still wasted on rabble. You weren’t named a Master Assassin for nothing.

 Soon enough, your target, Antonio Vello dei Campo, walked around the market, seemingly disinterested in what the merchants were offering. He even turned down a gently spoken offer of a generous discount by a woman, whom you saw attracting people with her beauty and charm. Judging by the bulky men at his sides, he was being escorted by them, very likely for protection from attackers. They glared at anyone who stared too long at their master. A pathetic attempt at intimidation, but it was enough to make the folk turn their eyes away.

 You contemplated your options of attack. Usually, the contractors didn’t care enough to specify in which fashion the intended target had to be killed, leaving only the small description on a parchment. Antonio wasn’t that important of a Templar. Sure, he had a lot of connections in both Italy and France alike (most of them made through arranged marriages with his family members), but he didn’t care enough to further all of his Order’s goals, making him a rather untrusted member among his comrades. That is why your reward would only be some 1500 florins. A big disappointment for you.

 As he moved further into the market, you stood up to follow his party, using your Eagle Vision to keep track of him (something that only your closest friends and family knew - especially the Auditores). And while you were more silent and stealthier than La Volpe himself, you still prayed to whoever was above, that no guards would spot you on the roofs. They were annoying enough to be a huge nuisance to the assassins.

 Getting rid of his bodyguards would be an easy feat as you often come across such brutes in your travels. You knew all their weaknesses, and no matter what kind of armour they wore, they would always fall by your blade. But then again, you couldn’t just underestimate them. Such behaviour can often prove to be fatal when one isn’t careful.

 Continuing to keep an eye on him, you quickly and carefully moved across the roofs. From the sidelines, it looked like a graceful dance, with the way you moved your limbs. Your friends and comrades loved to point that out, much to your embarrassment. You knew that you were very skilled, of course, but you were not the one to brag about it, and that’s what Ezio loved about you.

 *****

 Unbeknownst to you, his heart always clenched at the mere mention of your name, finding out one night after fighting the traitors within the Spanish Brotherhood that he had fallen in love with you. At that moment, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts go back to Cristina, his first love. He had long ago let her go, as he couldn’t be with her while avenging the deaths of his father and brothers. He even beat up, or rather tried to talk sense into her fiancé to be a good and loving husband to her, for Dios’ sake! But when he thought about you, he knew he would do things for you so much more than that. Aside from you being very skilled and humble, he loved your divine beauty - the way sun shone down upon you, putting your auburn locks ‘on fire’; your freckles that dotted your cheeks and forehead; and your athletic figure, putting all the other girls to shame (with the exception of Claudia, of course). He loved how you were able to speak many languages besides your mother tongue with the greatest of ease. He loved how kind and caring you were to children. He loved how you aided him in searching for eagle feathers for his mother. And he loved how passionate you were about changing the world for the better. He loved everything about you, but even he had his own insecurities.

 For one, he knew that he had a reputation of a womanizer (something he was never actually proud of), and he didn’t want you to think that you would be just a ‘fling’ to him. For two, you had rarely reciprocated his attempts at flirting with you. While you had mentioned that you were very bad at flirting with men and women alike, he could never have imagined that you would be so oblivious when it was being directed at you instead. For three, he was afraid of being rejected. You were his best friend and he was yours, but even that couldn’t assure him that you wouldn’t tell him ‘no’ if he were to confess his feelings. He was a grown man, but with you, he felt like a shy little boy twiddling his fingers.

 Despite Maria being in a catatonic state for a long period of time, it didn’t stop her from being observant. She saw how much attention her second-born gave to you, always looking directly you with a gleam in his eyes that she could only describe as ‘being in love’. After you gave her the eagle feathers to complete Petruccio’s collection, she was immensely grateful for your support, already thinking of you as her second daughter. She could only pray that Ezio would man up and buy a ring for you.

 To Claudia, you were a complete stranger at first. You were a foreigner and an assassin on top of that. You were glad that Ezio had spoken to her about you, believing that face-to-face introduction would go easier that way. It did, of course, just not as warmly as you had envisioned. She wasn’t rude to you, but she still held herself with pride and a certain coldness you had a rather hard time shaking off. But after many attempts at befriending her, Claudia finally caved in, surprised that you were so relentless. From then on, she became your second confidant - someone, with whom you could speak about your growing feeling towards her brother. Boy, was she glad to start making future plans for your eventual wedding (as Ezio had confided in her about his feelings for you too). She wouldn’t, of course, dare to say such a thing out loud. Well, only to her mother, that is.

 Mario, oh Mario, was more than very welcoming. When he first saw you, he immediately went for a hug which you returned wholeheartedly. He was glad that Ezio was making friends while travelling (and he secretly hoped that you would keep him from falling over the edge with his vengeance). When he brought Ezio to his study for a talk, he told him that you were a keeper and that he shouldn’t let you slip through his fingers. He even mentioned he would be glad to attend your wedding, making Ezio choke on his water in surprise. You didn’t forget to tell him how much you loved his uncle’s joviality. After all, you did need someone to lift up your spirits after botched missions, or whenever one of your friends/allies was killed.

 Everyone around you saw that you were meant to be together. Where he was hot-headed, you were calm. Where you were shy, he was confident. You completed each other. You were soulmates.

 *****

 Antonio didn’t stop walking until they reached Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore. The square in front of it was large, and far too open for your liking. You did not want to kill him in public, even though it was easier to do. Thankfully though, he entered the church. You would have to wear a perfect disguise...as a pilgrim.

 “It is a good day, is it not?” Ezio’s voice brought you out of your thoughts, effectively stopping you from proceeding with the mission.

 “Ezio! What are you doing here?! I’m on a mission!” you spoke with clear irritation. You hated being interrupted like that. He got the clue though.

 “Mi dispiace, Y/N. I didn’t realize.”

 “No, you didn’t,” you glanced at him,” but my target is in that church. Have to go inside and finish him off.” You didn’t care if you sounded rude, crude, or bloodthirsty. It was just a part of the job, and you didn’t care how you worded your sentences.

 Ezio squinted his eyes at the building, ”You need any help? I’m available.”

 “Of course you are,” you huffed, but without any malice whatsoever. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long. “Come along.” Before Ezio could respond, however, you were already scaling down the wall. Once you reached the ground, the two of you split up, so that you wouldn’t garner the attention of the guards positioned in small groups around the square.

 Avoiding them on any other day is fairly easy, but today, they seemed to be on high alert, eyes trained on people like hawks’ are trained on their prey. As far as you knew, there were no important celebrations planned today nor was the church being closed off for the visit of some nameless ruler within Italy. So to remain unseen, you had to blend in within the bustling crowd of people. Thankfully, no one seemed to care about a suspicious-looking hooded person walking around them (much to your - and Ezio’s - initial confusion at the people not recognizing the assassins moving right next to them, as you were quite     sure that wearing a hood in public was the most recognizable of all assassins’ trademarks).

 Despite you hailing from Spain and training under the hand of the then-leader, Benedicto, La Volpe was the one to teach you how to remain unseen in the crowd. While he himself never gave out any of his secrets, you still pointed them out, much to his shock and surprise, having never expected to be so translucent in his actions (at least in front of you anyway). You even knew his real name, which he pleaded you not to reveal it to anyone. You understood him. Very few people did.  

 From the corner of your eye, you spotted Ezio, calmly moving forward like he was just a regular person enjoying his day. You admired that about him - how he never seemed to be nervous or indecisive when he was on a mission, and sometimes, you wished you could be the same (as many of your former friends and comrades have pointed out how tense and serious-looking you were when working for your Order - you simply did not take the duties of an assassin as a joking matter). And while neither of you were great thinkers like Leonardo, you still had that certain air of wisdom around you, having seen things that most people would never see in their lifetime. Knowledge was power, and both of you recognized it. Your shared experience within the Brotherhood was what made you two unique in a way - you understood what being a real assassin entailed, and how much one had to sacrifice for the sake of others.

 Only a few moments later, you arrived at the east entrance of the church, walking into shadows. To blend in with the pilgrims, you had to shed your assassin robes for a dress or remain in your own pair of breeches and a white shirt (which were quite form-fitting and would most certainly attract the attention of men inside the building).

 “What next, uccellino?” you heard from beside you.

 “Get me a new dress, for one. I want to get inside but not by sneaking.”

 Ezio placed his hand under his chin in thought and hummed, “I see. Perhaps we can ask a servant for a spare change of clothes for us both.”

 You had to suppress a laugh at the thought of Ezio looking like he wanted to pray to the God he didn’t believe in. He narrowed his eyes at you, “What is it?”

 “Nada. Nada. It’s just that I have a hard time with picturing you as a devoted pilgrim wanting to do all that stuff with drinking ‘Jesus’ blood’, ‘eating a piece of his flesh’, and making a cross in front of yourself.” To think, any other religious person would strike you down for that comment alone. You really don’t care about that though.

 “So you’re saying that I don’t have the looks of a pious man?” his eyes were glaring at you, but his voice was teasing.

“No, you don’t have the ‘looks’ of a pious man, you have the ‘looks’ of a handsome asesino,” you retorted.

 “You think I’m handsome?”

 He was, but you didn’t dare to admit that out loud, so instead, you just walked inside the church to find a servant, leaving your enamoured friend behind.

 Soon enough, you spotted a young girl (perhaps of the age of twelve) carrying a crate full of candles. Before she could walk out of the room, you jumped in front of her, making her shriek in surprise. You quickly put your hand on her mouth while making a ‘be quiet’ gesture.

 “Promise me you won’t scream,” you told her. The poor thing looked frightened, wanting to run away the moment you released her. Ezio was watching from the corner, unseen.

 The girl looked around frantically, trying to see if she had an escape route or if she could grab anything to help her push you off of her. Grabbing her chin with your free hand, you forced her to pay attention to you.

 Looking her right in the eyes, you repeated, “Can you promise me that you won’t scream? I am not going to harm you, little one.” The girl gave you a single nod, no glimpse of a lie in her hazel eyes. You released her.

 “Di cosa hai bisogno da me?” she spoke.

 “We want some regular clothes for us both,” you gestured at yourself and Ezio. At the sight of him, the girl's eyes widened. He wasn’t that tall of a man but he still looked intimidating with his dark robes and Altaïr’s armour on.

 The girl motioned with her hand to follow her downstairs to the lower level of the church. ‘Servants’ quarters. Of course!’ you remarked, mentally cursing yourself for not thinking of those before. Yes...you and logic were not as good friends as anyone else might think. That didn’t stop you from being very skilled in other areas though.

 Without breaking your quick strides across the long hall, you glanced around from beneath your hood, noticing that not one soul was inside. It was a bit strange but not overly so since it was almost noon and they were most likely just performing their daily duties. Ezio, on the other hand, did not feel at ease at all. While he has never seen anything like that before, he knew that children could be used for sinister purposes as well as any grown-up, mostly for leading men and women into ambushes by lying; playing on their innocence to charm their way into people’s hearts, or even getting paid for killing their hirers for killing their enemies (and even that was a rare case). Dread was twisting his gut.

 No sooner than his chain of thought had ended, did they arrive in a well-lit room with a lot of big cupboards.

 The girl approached one of them, pressing her hand on the wooden door, “I vestiti di cui hai bisogno sono qui, signora.”

 You took a look inside. There were plenty of simple shirts and breeches. Even a couple of brown-coloured dresses. Good enough for you both. With no further thought, you grabbed a pair of each, tossing one to Ezio. You did hope they would fit him, or else, they would tightly cling to his physique...distracting you. Walking into an adjacent room, you redressed quickly, and neatly folded you assassin robes before hiding them in an empty chest.

 “Are you ready?” you heard Ezio asking.

 “Si. Let’s get going.” You walked a few steps before suddenly pausing in the doorway, “Wait a moment. Where’s the girl?!”

 Ezio looked around. Indeed, the girl had vanished, probably the moment you started taking off your robes. His heart clenched at the thought of her running upstairs to rat them out, but he had to remain focused on your task. Come what may, you two would have to improvise if it came to Antonio being alerted of your presence.

 Sighing, you continued walking back to the stairs while subtly checking if your blades hadn’t fallen off of you. The Bells signalling the start of a mass were already being rung. When you reached the ground floor again, you saw a sea of standing men and women before you, neither your target nor his bodyguards in sight. Even by briefly activating your Eagle Vision you couldn’t spot them.

 “Fuck,” you quietly swore under your breath, already getting frustrated at how your mission was proceeding. Ezio noticed the brief furrow of your brows, not enjoying the sight of a frown on your beautiful face in the slightest. Even he tried using his special sight, but like you, he had no luck. Was this Antonio that slippery of a bastard?

 You pulled Ezio in the middle of the huge room and made the sign of a cross on your chests. It felt absolutely distasteful to you, for you did not believe in ‘God’. If he ever existed, why hasn’t he shown his face? Did he think of you ‘mortals’ as too inferior to actually see it? You never believed in all that bullshit the church was propagating and its priests were spewing, and yet, you couldn’t deny that people needed something to believe in, even if it was a ‘nobody’ above your heads.

 The head-priest started with a simple ‘Preghiamo’, before reciting the prayers. People around you murmured along, some of them with heads bowed, others were keeping their eyes on the man and their hands clasped together. You acted as the latter, not daring to miss Antonio. After a few minutes though, you started to fidget, just waiting to dash forward and out of the stuffy room. At the end of each passage, everyone murmured ‘Amen’.

 You jolted a bit when a rough hand was placed on your shoulder.

 “Calmati, amore,” Ezio whispered, attempting to calm you down with his smooth baritone voice. It helped, but you turned your head to the side to prevent him from seeing you blush at his use of the word. The man had too much power over you already.

 “We need to get going, Ezio,” you whispered back. “We’ve been here for some time already and we still haven’t spotted him. My guess is that he’s still within these halls, as I haven’t heard the guards opening the big door.” With that you swiftly moved away from him, gently weaving through the throng of people until you reached the entrance to the side passage leading further into the church. Ezio was right on your heels.

 “I can’t wait to get out of this dress! Ugh!” you pulled at your scratchy collar. “But unfortunately, we don’t have enough time to change our clothes.”

 “I rather like seeing you in one. You wear them too rarely.”

 “I am a woman, but in our line of work, they’re simply impractical. They’re good whenever I need a disguise but they simply won’t do for assassinating people...or escaping enemies.”

 “True.”

 “There,” you pointed at the stone rafters above, ”we climb them, get a better view of this place. Before you get that thought inside your mind though,” you waved your your finger at him, “do not look up.” You immediately started scaling the wall, not being that mindful of your dress, of course.

 Now, while Ezio once loved looking up the skirts of women, he dropped doing that the moment he realized he was in love with you, the thought of it suddenly becoming disgusting to him. He wouldn’t dare to allow such indignity to happen. Not from himself. Not from anyone. Instead of retorting back, he kept silent and followed you up to the rafters. He too wished he had his assassin robes on. No good would come out of it if you two got spotted by either the priests or Antonio’s entourage.

 “Shhh, be silent for a moment.” You listened closely to all the sounds around you.

     The water dropping onto the stone ground below.  

     The murmurs of the praying pilgrims behind you.  

     The sound of someone unsheathing their sword -  

 “Wait! Did you hear it?!” you inquired urgently, stopping Ezio from moving altogether.

 “The sound is coming from over there,” he pointed at a small but heavy-looking door at the far east corner.

 “Then let’s get to it.”

 Thankfully, that part of the church was empty of the priests and the servants, making it easy to sneak around. You doubted that Antonio’s room had more than one door, but even then, you could be wrong, as the door could lead into basement instead. Normally, you would do some reconnaissance in order to plan ahead and keep the chance of a failure to a minimum, but now, you’d have to improvise.

 “We have to go inside through that door. I see no other ways to enter the room.”

 Ezio cast a glance at his steel gauntlet, the hidden blade ready to be sprung out at any moment. You readied your own.

 With a quick inhale, you opened the heavy door with force...only to find Antonio lying in the pool of his own blood. Your eyes widened at the sight. You and Ezio arrived too late, but you had to keep your head cool and eyes focused.

 Turning him over, you saw the wound in the centre of his chest, dark red blood staining his overcoat.

 “Stabbed through the heart. What a painful way to go…,” you murmured quietly as you closed the man’s eyes with your hand. Ezio put a hand on your shoulder.

 “It’s not your fault, Y/N.”

 “No, it isn’t, but it doesn’t make me feel any better about it,” you paused, looking at Antonio’s corpse again. “Did his guards kill him?”

 “Possibly, since I don’t see them in here.”

 “Ah, then I guess that his ignorance of his superiors’ orders has finally caught up to him. He never was a ‘good’ Templar. Still, he could’ve told us at least something, but now, he’s dead and his lips are forever sealed. I’ll have to tell Mario about this.” Before you could leave though, Ezio pulled you into his embrace which you gladly returned. No words were spoken between you because they weren’t needed. They were unnecessary.

 Suddenly, the heavy door closed behind you with a loud screech. You ran towards it, trying to pull at the handle, but it didn’t budge in the slightest.

 “¡Maldición! ¡Estamos atrapados!” you shouted angrily. Ezio knew enough Spanish to understand what you meant, and he couldn’t help but be angry himself (something that hasn’t happened a lot in the past few years). You saw some kind of smoke coming from under the door.

 “Are they starting a fire behind it?!” You were not comfortable with the thought of being burned alive, even if it was beside the man you loved.

 “I don’t know, but...wait, do you smell it?”

 “Smell what?”

 “Something sweet and...calming.”

 Indeed, when you inhaled the air, it had a whiff of sweet vanilla and jasmine, almost instantly calming you down. Something wasn’t right though as your eyelids kept getting heavier and heavier, and all of your senses became dull. The last thing you heard before your mind shut down completely was a confused     ‘What-’.

Translations (Spanish):

Dios - God

Nada - Nothing

¡Maldición! ¡Estamos atrapados! - Damn it! We’re trapped!

Asesino - assassin (male)

Translations (Italian):

uccellino - little bird

Calmati, amore - Calm down, love

Mi dispiace - I’m sorry

Di cosa hai bisogno da me? - What do you want from me?

I vestiti di cui hai bisogno sono qui, signora. - The clothes you need are here, lady

Preghiamo - Let us pray

Tagging: @sassenach-on-the-rocks // @marshmallow--3 // @assassins-and-hidden-blades // @bangtansugababy // @imagines-of-the-creed // @kittitt // @kisstheassassins // @iceboundstar // @unreadpoppy // @ass-sass-sin-o // @one-who-hunts-eagles // @deejayers // @lefrenchfrye // @mavriarch // @theswordofeden // @mindadarksight // @undertastic-dork // @storminwomanform // @fanfic-reblog-central

#ezio auditore #ezio auditore x reader #ezio auditore da firenze #ezio auditore imagine #ezio auditore one-shot #assassin's creed #assassins creed #assassin's creed brotherhood #assassins creed brotherhood #assassin's creed one-shot #ezio x reader #creedwork

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Stay Ch. 16

Master List

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: Angst, and fluff, and feels oh my!

A/N:  So yeah I swear I wroth an authors note for this... but idfk what happened. 

ANYWAY! Thank you all for being so patient while I got my life together. This one is also short and sweet (guess that’s the mood I’m in). However, y’all should know me by now. This is just the calm before the storm. 

Hope you enjoy this one my pumpkins! 

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf  @disagreetoagree  @breezy1415  @peachthatdrinkslemonade  @5aftermidnight@jeromethepsycho  @marvel-randomness  @daniellajocelyn  @katecolleen  @yanginginthere@wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @lesbian-girls-wayhaught @siriuslycloudy2

March 2007

At some point in the last five months, you’d stopped recognizing yourself. The woman in the mirror wasn’t Y/N. Her hair was different, down to even the eyebrows. Her accent distinctly that of a life long Londoner. She worked for an independent UK couture fashion magazine, chose wine over whiskey, and was distinctly heterosexual.

When the chance to work this job requiring deep cover came up in December you jumped on it. You didn’t want to be you anymore. The you that couldn’t be with the woman you loved. The you that was heartbroken. The you who was beginning to doubt that you’d ever be happy. Fuck her.

Being Charlie Daniels was far better. She was, of course, a real person. Just one who was now living comfortably in the Bahamas courtesy of MI6. Even legit agencies had use of freelance talent every now and then.

Settling into her life had been easy. Not setting her boss on fire or blowing his brains out daily was a different task altogether. Turned out that a magazine was a great front for a crime empire. Lots of international travel, young and beautiful and desperate men and women, money exchanged in countless untraceable ways, on and on. And this fucker was happy to take advantage of every single disgusting avenue it opened up.

You almost had everything you needed to hand to MI6, get your obscenely large payout, and get on to another gig while they threw all of these bastards into cells to rot for the rest of their miserable lives. Just one more trip. After whatever horrible things they lay out in Tokyo you’ll be set.

Tokyo is one of those cities you can lose yourself in. Like New York but better for its interesting balance of vibrancy and grounded reserve. You absolutely love it.

The whole point of the trip, at least on the surface, was to focus on Fashion Week Tokyo. Honestly, there was a part of you that wished this was your world. Nothing but runway shows and after parties. Writing about the latest trends rather than delving into the inner workings of the worlds miscreants

Oh well. It was nice enough to pretend. You had to admit that you’d miss Charlie Daniels once you shed this skin in a couple of weeks.

You’re sitting two people down from your boss at an underground show. The level of security here screams that there are other things going on behind the scenes but it’s still a room filled with a who’s who of the Japanese and international fashion communities.

This was your third show of the day, and you knew there would be a party after where you’d have to schmooze all while plucking information from your unsuspecting fellow guests. You’re exhausted. So rather than pay much attention to the show you let your mind wander.

When she walks out you feel her rather than see her.  Slowly you turn your head to stare dumbstruck at the model walking onto the catwalk. Your heart begins beating against your ribs, your mouth goes dry, your hands shake.

It takes every ounce of control you have to keep your emotions in. To not scream “Natasha!” at the top of your lungs. To not grab her and run for the hills. Charlie Daniels and her easy life be damned. It’s hard but you manage.

As she turns and comes back down, passing now closer to you, her eyes don’t graze  the crowd at all. Head up, shoulders back, she walks the runway like she’d been doing it for years.

The rest of the show is maybe ten minutes but it feels like years. You know the models are all attending the party. Eye candy for the high end guests.

It’s fairly easy to ditch your coworkers in the crowd as you try to find the best vantage point in the room without being too obvious. After a solid twenty minutes, you find yourself planning an escape route. Most of the models are milling about but she’s no where to be seen. You will find her.

But you know you can’t skip out just yet. At the bar, you order a red wine and make yourself seen. Charlie would never miss the whole party after all. You spend a bit chatting with designers and a few models, feigning interest in the whole thing until you hear your boss call out to you.

“Oy, Charlie!” Carl’s voice alone makes you want to put him down. When you turn he’s waving you over to the bar. Sighing heavily you head over.

You’re about ten feet away when you see her, head back laughing at something Carl or his friend had said. Both men are far to close to her for your liking and the hungry look on Carl’s face sets your blood boiling.

He slings an arm around your shoulders and you carefully coach your face to not show disgust. “Charlie here is my best writer. Doin’ some pieces for us on this whole thing,” he waves his other hand around wildly.

“Good to meet ya, Charlie, I’m Dan,” the other man, clearly American says.

“Likewise,” Natasha doesn’t react to the accent at all.

“This here is-”

“Natalie,” Natasha cuts him off, extending a hand to you. Holding her eyes with yours you take it. It’s like touching a live wire.

“Natalie is an American model working here in Japan. May be a good topic for a piece.” He ribs you leaning closer, “And a good piece for the office eh?” Suddenly that MI6 money seems far less appealing.

“I’d love that,” Natasha beams. “Why don’t you guys go mingle and Charlie and I can chat!” The men exchange a glance, but there’s plenty of fresh meat around to sink their teeth into.

Carl flashes you a greasy smile and a wink as he walks away. Thinking clearly that you’re going to snare this woman for him. You, unfortunately, had a few others. Not something you were proud of. Demands of the job you told yourself.

“She’ll take a vodka neat,” you tell the bartender.

“Yes,” Natasha smiles at him, “Whiskey for her. Makers if you have it.” He thinks nothing of it and makes your drinks.

“So, how’s modeling in Japan?”

“Probably about as good as writing for a sleazy jackal.”

You laugh, “That bad? What’s the goal.”

“Getting a cover,” you commend the clever word play.

“That’s a good goal. Long term?”

“Something like that.” She takes a sip of her vodka, “How long are you here?”

“End of the week.” Your skin itches to touch her. The men are rounding back. You hold her gaze and shift your eyes back to them. She catches on.

“Perfect! It’s so hard to have a good interview here, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. Why don’t you come by my hotel?” You whip out your spare key card. “I’d love to get your story for the mag, maybe do a full feature.”

“A feature would be excellent exposure!”

“Wouldn’t it?” Carl slides up next to her. “We can get you all the exposure you could want Ms. Natalie.”

“Charlie was telling me all about it.” She flashes him a coy smile. “Thank you so much Charlie! I forgot I have a late fitting tonight for another show so I’ve got to run. But we’ll chat soon yeah?”

“Absolutely! It was so good to meet you Natalie.”

“Same! Bye!” She hurries through the crowded room and disappears.

“Busy girl.” Carl quips. “Whiskey?” You look down at the glass by your hand.

“Some guy sent them over,” you gesture to Natasha’s lipstick stained glass. “Seemed rude to refuse. Can’t stand the stuff though.”

“That’s a mans drink,” Carl laughs at his own perceived joke and you force a smile.

Somehow you make it through the rest of the evening. You’d refused to allow yourself to hope that she’d be here, too obvious to come the same night, better to wait. Kicking off your shoes you head straight to the mini bar and crack open a whiskey, downing it in one gulp.

“You really need to be more careful,” Natasha’s voice comes from the bathroom. “I mean not even checking around. Sloppy.”

“Charlie Daniels doesn’t have to check for Russian assassins in her bathroom,” a smile pulls your face so tight it hurts.

“Well, Natalie Rushman isn’t a Russian spy. So…”

You let your real accent resurface as you pull her into your arms, “Natalie Rushman, I don’t know if that’s clever or lazy.” She kisses you hard, tongue sliding over your lips hands gripping your ass.

“Mmm,” she hums. “Kinda like the accent.”

“Oh?” You revert to the clipped posh Londoner sound. “Would you rather be with Charlie? I hate to break it to you, she’s strictly into dick so you may need to get a bit creative.”

Natasha’s head falls back with laughter, “I’m always into a challenge but,” she cups your face in her hands, “I’d much rather Y/N, she’s got a cute accent too.” Your kiss is soft this time, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, honey.” Gently you push a strand of hair out of her face. “Is this smart? Are you gonna get-”

“I’m good. I wouldn’t be here if I thought there was risk.” She pulls away and tugs you toward the bed. “There’s no surveillance on me here, I check in every week, that’s it. This is strictly to build a cover.”

“Cover for what?” She gives you a sideways glance. “Right. National security.”

“Do you really want to talk about work?”

Smirking at her you push her back on the bed. “Maybe later.”

You lean down to her but she stops you by planting a strappy heel in the center of your chest. Trailing your fingers down her leg you snag a knife from her thigh holster. Carefully you slide the blade under the straps, the incredibly sharp edge cuts through the thin suede like it’s nothing.

“Those were very expensive you know,” eyes sparkling with desire.

You slip the shoe off and toss it aside. “I’ll buy you a new pair.” Your lips press against her ankle.  

Everything in your life until her was so fleeting. Even your own name, the sound of your own voice, who you were… But with her, you were grounded. You weren’t anything but her’s, you were Y/N.

Suddenly you’re overwhelmed. Caressing her muscular calf you just stare at her eyes. Emerald green, dark liner, lids heavy with lust and exhaustion.

“Natasha…” Your voice cracks and you fight for composure.

“Y/N? What is it?” She shoots up, cradling your face in her hands.

You shake your head, unable to really find the words and unwilling to send this storm of emotions to her. “I just…” You cover her hands with your own. It’s not that you don’t want her, you do. But…

“Can we just… I just wanna hold you…” Her expression immediately softens, eyes sparkling a touch with tears. “Sorry… I… I just…”

“I’d love that, baby.” Tenderly her lips brush yours, then your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids as they flutter closed.

You shed your clothes and crawl into the plush bed. Holding tight to one another you spend hours drifting in and out of sleep, covering the other with soft kisses. Before the sun rises your hands wander southward.

This time you don’t fuck one another senseless. It feels like you’re trying to memorize every curve, every sound, every subtle thing that marks being together. You both know you many not get to do this for some time. The knowledge aches but it doesn’t make having her any less sweet.

Post Snap

You lean your head back on the wall behind the booth. The crying man from last night is gone, you find yourself hoping that he’s resting peacefully somewhere… even though you know it’s pointless to hope for such things.

There are more people filling the bar than there was before. The TVs are off, radios turned up, reporters frantically trying to determine what happened. It was global, that was clear. All planes grounded, trains stopped, communications spotty due to damaged cell towers.

A man speaks frantically to someone who seems to be a friend that he was heading to Nuremberg from Budapest, how the roads are almost not navigable. He doesn’t know if his family is even still there but he has to find out.

Despite his distress, your lips curl a bit at the mention of Budapest.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black widow #queer fic #wlw

[secondaryaftermathhq]

Welcome to the secondary aftermath

Hi! I thought a good place to start would be to make an introduction post to explain what the point of this blog is.

So first off, what is Secondary Aftermath?

Secondary aftermath is the name of the TV show I’m currently writing. I don’t know what’s going to happen with it - it may sit on my laptop for the rest of time, it may get picked up and actually put into production, I could end up doing it myself, I don’t know.

The title is a work in progress (and bonus points if you get the reference) but for now I’m happy with it. I’ve got 4 seasons mapped out so far but I’m confident I can go further, currently I’m finishing writing season 1 but I keep getting sidetracked by designing characters and writing parts of the later seasons that I’m SUPER excited for. I also have a prequel series surrounding Aliana’s time in Denver and everything that happened before she met the gang that sits in my brain, constantly knocking on the walls to remind me I need to write it. It’s fun.

I made this blog because I’m going stir crazy having this entire world inside my head with nobody to share it with. I realise nobody might even seen this account but at least I know it’s out there this way.

What’s the plot?

...So here’s the thing. I suck at descriptions. Really, really suck at descriptions. Here’s the short version:

Superpowers, robots, clones, bowling for soup, lgbt+ representation, My Chemical Romance and all the 2000’s alternative music you can take. That’s the best I can offer without making it over complicated. I’ll do a more detailed description below for season 1 but I can’t promise it’ll be great.

“Felix, Kurt, Rory and Vince are 4 people with different superpowers (I’m gonna do a detailed character post soon) who live in a gas station. The gas station is outside the town Felix and Kurt used to live in before it got burnt and all the residents were kidnapped 6 years ago. When Felix goes back to the town to get an important part for the car, they find Kayla cowering as she hides from the very people that took Felix’s town. After years of trying to find the people that committed the crime, they finally have a lead to chase - except that lead is now chasing them.

The group leave the station and head north, where they encounter the straight talking Aliana and her motorbike. After listening to Aliana explain that she can help them stop the bad guys and discovering she is also a special like the rest of the group, they agree to go with her to another abandoned town where Angus is waiting for them.

Together they make plans to stop the evil Planetary Inc. (more bonus points for getting the reference) and release all the captured citizens of various towns in the area whilst keeping Kayla safe, but it won’t be that simple. When the right hand man of Planetary’s leader shows up wanting to help, the group discover more about the company’s history in a day than they had in 6 years and trust is called into question.”

I like to keep a lot of things hidden so that’s a pretty vague description but I think it covers the basics of season 1. I might update it in future idk.

Who are the characters?

So like I said, I’ll do a detailed characters post soon where I give more information about each individual but for now I offer you some blurbs -

Felix

Felix can only be described as a non-binary sweetheart. They deserve the world and I’ll fight anyone that fucks with them. Their powers are that they can conjure force fields and play music as loud as possible. They feel responsible for what happened to the town and have spent the last 6 years trying to make it right, with no luck. They’re a total worry wart. The kind of person who would start vibrating if they found out someone they cared about was anything less than 100% happy. They act as the leader of the group but they’re not the firm type. Mcr stan if I ever saw one.

Kurt/K

Felix’s best friend, they’re inseparable. He also feels responsible for what happened but he’s better at hiding it. Kurt is the voice of reason within the group, when everyone else wants to act first and think later, he’s the one that sets them straight. His power is that he can conjure elements from his hands and control the weather within the area he’s located. Kurt’s the friend you go to when you’ve had a day from hell and just need someone to sit and listen to you without any interruption or judgement.

Rory

Imagine if you could capture chaos in a jar and eat it. That’s Rory. He used to be a doctor before he joined Felix and Kurt at the station which is handy because his powers are he can heal anything and see places in real time within his head. Rory is Vince’s boyfriend and it seems like they never stop arguing but god help you if you say something rude about one of them in the presence in the other. Rory seems tough but he’s seen some shit and been through some shit, it’s what got him and Vince bonding at first. The last person you’d expect to be giving sage advice but he’s actually really good at it. Rory’s brought some unsavoury characters to the station in the past but the group never hold it against him.

Vince/Vinnie

The only reason Rory hasn’t died yet. Vince is seen as “the strong one” of the group, he’s actually a big softie and a good man but that’s exactly why he’s the last person you’d want to piss off. His power is he can look into people’s memories to find the information he needs. Vince lost his daughter and her mother a year before finding the station after an experiment conducted by Planetary went horribly wrong, despite all that, he’s in good spirits and likes to look on the bright side of life.

Aliana

She’ll buy you dinner then poison your wine. Aliana is a no-nonsense, speak her mind kind of gal. Her power is that she can turn invisible which has helped her a lot when hiding from Planetary Inc. in the past. She’s “married” to Angus and lives in an abandoned town, courtesy of Planetary, a couple hours from the Station. Aliana briefly worked for Planetary at a pop-up research facility in Denver and struck up a good friendship with Phoenix before it all went pear shaped and she was forced to flee back home, where she found her own town abandoned.

Angus

We need to put bells on his ankles because you barely notice he’s in the room until he speaks. Angus prefers to observe than participate, he keeps to himself and doesn’t judge you on anything you share with him. He’s just full of wisdom. His power is that he can spawn in multiple places, giving him eyes and ears everywhere. Angus can be found caring for Kayla when the others are out dealing with Planetary, he prefers to deal with the logical side of things rather than the physical side.

Kayla

She literally didn’t ask for any of this but Nolan just had to bring a kid into this didn’t he. Ugh. Kayla is an absolute sweetheart who doesn’t really know what’s happening, she just knows the bad men are after her. Kayla was artificially born within the facility 4 years ago, but they had managed to rapidly speed up her aging so she was closer to the age at which children gain their powers. Kayla was the first success I.e the first person to be given powers without being born into them. Her power is that she can start and stop time but for obvious reasons, she’s not having the best time controlling them yet.

(The)Phoenix

He’s made some big mistakes in the past but he’s trying to turn himself around and regain Aliana’s friendship. He’s Nolan’s right hand man and ex-boyfriend, he spent many years dedicated to the cause but after Nolan’s experiment killed Vince’s town and they broke up, things went downhill. Phoenix is a tricky one, you’re never really sure what side he’s on and even when you think you know, there’s always room for doubt. He rarely makes sense and likes to keep you on your toes by never telling you the whole story. He originally never had powers but after Kayla, they found the right formula and he was able to acquire his own. His power is that he’s able to manipulate the minds of others to make them say and do whatever he wants them to, which is why you can never fully trust him.

Nolan

This is all I’m willing to say on the matter.

Lindsey

I love her. I love her so much. Lindsey is a bass player in Felix’s favourite band who also coincidentally met Aliana when she was flying into Denver and became her best friend. Lindsey, along with her brother Tiger, helped Aliana and Phoenix in solving the mystery surrounding Planetary Inc. when Aliana worked for them. After Aliana was forced to leave without saying goodbye, Lindsey and Tiger were captured by Planetary but escaped after they were given powers of their own and Lindsey acquired her robot arm. Lindsey lost her left arm after a cockup on Planetary’s part during testing and was quickly given a robotic prosthetic arm by the facility in Denver. Her power is similar to Aliana’s, by request, she can camouflage to anything.

Tiger

On this show we support and cover trans individuals. Tiger is ftm and has cool lilac hair. As stated above, he helped the group when Aliana was in Denver and became good friends with her like his sister. Tiger plays lead guitar in the band with Lindsey and is often found with a book or a knife, it depends on the day. He’s a total sweetheart that would do anything for almost anyone if they asked. Tiger’s power is that he can sprout wings and fly, he can also produce balls of energy that reaaaally pack a punch.

The other stuff

I can’t really think of what else to say about the show? I’ve got drawings of the characters that I’ll definitely post, they’re not amazing in terms of detail but they’re simple enough that my level of talent can manage it and they look nice. I don’t actually expect anyone to pay attention to this account but if anyone wants to know more or has questions, shoot. I’ll be using the hashtag ‘#Release the secondary aftermath’ on all my posts (unless I think of a better one, in which case I’ll update this) so you can find everything there

#secondary aftermath #intro post #release the secondary aftermath

[thedrunkedit]

how to quit your job

Hello friends, today I quit my job! Maybe you’ve done this before and are curious as to how other people do it. Maybe this concept is foreign to you and you’ve been blessed with tolerable workplaces your whole life. Maybe you’ve never worked before. Regardless, I’m going to tell you about my experience, because it’s truly wild.

To understand how I ended up in this predicament, it’s crucial to explain the background. I just graduated in May of 2016. In the months leading up to graduation, I worked hard in class and pushed myself to do as well as possible I have always worked myself hard but it seemed especially important in that moment because there was no promise of grad school, this was it. 

In between writing essays and studying for exams, I began applying to jobs. All of my business major friends already had theirs lined up and it seemed like the only way to be successful was to follow suit. I watched my friends slowly gain employment around me, getting towed out of the wake of school and into the shoreline of real life. I waited patiently, treading water and hoping my lifeline would come soon. On graduation day, I worked hard to be “in the moment”. I wanted to be proud of myself and remember that no matter what came next, I had done all that I could.

But it didn’t last long. After that rather chilly day in Boston, I went back to my Allston apartment, grabbed dinner with my boyfriend, and panic set in. I was in the real world now, but I had no idea what was next. Sure, I had friends that were still out at sea with me, treading water, but there were so few of us now that it made me nervous. If a shark came, my chances of getting eaten were much higher! What if I drowned? How long could I tread?

It became a source of severe anxiety and stress for me. I felt like I had failed before I even began. Sure, I had worked hard for the past four (more like sixteen) years and had earned a coveted degree, but what did any of that matter when I didn’t have a job?! (Watch out: this becomes a recurring theme in my life.)

I embarked on the interview journey. You know the one, laden with nausea-inducing, generic questions, ones that make your brain go all fuzzy but you have to appear chipper every time you answer them? The type that makes you want to passive-aggressively burst out, “I don’t know, Donna, what do you think my greatest weakness is?” Yeah, those. It started as a test of willpower (when was the last time I did one of these? How long do they usually last?) and became a test of wits (I swear I’m smart, just look at all the current events I can talk about!). 

(I’d also like to take a quick aside here to point out that most of my job hunting was completely uneventful and silent. In fact, most companies didn’t even email me to tell me that I was vastly underqualified or that my name gave them a good laugh but they weren’t interested. The majority of any job search is spent shouting into the void and convincing yourself that you hear echoes. Most of my life is also spent this way.)

After many interviews, I stumbled upon The Job (spoiler alert: the one I just quit). The Job was full time, permanent, guaranteed to last as long as I could make it, and even came with the shiny promise of promotion. The Job started out as menial front desk duties and then would transition (spoiler alert: in three months) to a back-end, hard work type role. I asked them to pay be $35,000 because I live in Boston and anything less would be extremely hard to live on. They agreed and I took it. It didn’t look or sound glamorous, it wasn’t in the field I wanted or using any of my top strengths, but it was downtown and offered me a lifevest when I was one of the only people I knew still struggling through the formidable post-grad oceans. 

So, what went wrong? Well, reader, everything. I mean, that’s dramatic. It started slowly. My boss used to ask me to get her coffee all the time. This seems small and most of you would probably argue that it’s not uncommon in entry-level roles. But I was already overqualified to be in that position and, to be frank, my boss did nothing. She never lifted a finger to get any work done and coasted on the success of those beneath her. In fact, her paycheck was determined by our (the little people’s) ability to do our jobs, not her own. She also used negativity as her main driver. If the business was failing it was because we needed to do better, we needed to work harder, we weren’t up to the company standards. Miraculously, it was never because she was on Facebook four hours a day (It’s true! I saw her!).

Over time, my spirit was beaten down. When I was promoted, I was so excited to finally be seen as an equal or at least a person of value, but nothing changed. Day after day I was told that I wasn’t good enough and when I explained to her that I needed positivity and praise to thrive in my work she told me I would not receive any praise until the business was doing better. In short, if I was busting my ass (which I was!) it didn’t matter because the business was falling short. 

It also, as my friend Kayt pointed out, was a system of punishment before reward. I’m sorry but if you tell me that I am a fat lard and so obese it’s a wonder that I can get through a doorway then ask me to work out, I will not want to work out. I will want to sit down and cry for a solid three hours before going home, lying in the dark, and watching TV until my brain turns to mush. I know. I’ve been there. 

She also hired people who were sexist, sexual harassers, racist, bigots, you name it. It was hell. Dealing with people I genuinely did not like and being told that my hard work meant nothing was heartbreaking. I began getting migraines on almost a daily basis. I couldn’t eat at lunch anymore. My mental health was being stripped from me slowly. 

So what did our perilous heroine do? She started looking for jobs. Intermittently, between cold calls and helping our receptionist, I started finding positions that were a better fit. Again, mostly I heard nothing. But eventually, I got lucky.

This morning I got an emailed offer from a wonderful place that I’m genuinely excited to work at. It isn’t perfect but no job is (except the one where I get to wear sweatpants and be a best-selling author). It has everything I need right now, including the ability to write part time. 

So, friends, here we are. I told my boss I was leaving this afternoon, grabbed my things and went. The two-week courtesy didn’t exist at my company so it wasn’t rude to give such short notice. She took it surprisingly well. For a woman who made me feel like shit every day, she seemed to really care about me. She even cried a little. 

But after everything I had been through (so much of which I could never fit in one blog post), I couldn’t feel bad anymore. I needed to help myself. I needed to remember that nothing is worth losing your mental health (another theme!). 

I was so happy when I left today, I was beaming the entire T ride and walk home. That's a crazy feeling, my friends. I have only felt it one other time when I broke up with my high school boyfriend. Oh, don't worry, that story is coming too. Till then, stay foolish, stay happy, stay healthy, and don't try to change others. It never works and it will make you crazy. 

#how i quit my job #work #job #quitting #blog #blogging #aspiring blogger #new blog #new blogger #who the fuck am i honestly #i hate tags #damn #post 2

[enkelimagnus]

Scissors

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2618 words, rated M for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

Bucky goes to get his haircut, and ends up talking about his and his hairdresser's dating lives.

TW: homophobic language/terminology typical of the early 1900s, mentions of past rape and abuse

Read on AO3

Part 9 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

-------------

The only reason he makes it out of his house on Tuesday morning is because Charlie’s a nice girl, and he doesn’t want to be rude.

He even manages a shower, but it’s probably obvious to anyone he bumps into that he’s just crawled out of a proverbial hole. He’s going to have to deal with being in front of a mirror during his haircut and he’s dreading it.

It’s been three days since the Target incident.

Three days of forcing himself to eat, of no shower and barely any sleep, an endless loop of misery and darkness as he sat on the floor of his living room and waited for days to pass.

When he sleeps, he sees the deaths of Arkady Shostakov and his wife. It hadn’t been a good kill. It had been sloppy, with a boot print in the puddle of blood and brain matter on the apartment carpet. It had made for a good message sent to his handler’s other political enemies, however. He’d been punished for the sloppiness, with a whip. His handler, his обработчик, called himself traditional. He liked the whip. Bucky’s still surprised he healed without a trace from those days.

Needless to say, he’s barely functioning, but he has an appointment, and Charlie always puts time aside and lets him come early so he can be okay. She goes through so much trouble for him. So he’s going to show up, even if he would rather eat glass than stare at his own reflection for any length of time.

The sun is pale and hesitant as he reluctantly walks away from the locked door of his house. It’s less cold than it was a couple days ago, and the wind has subsided a little. His breath still forms clouds in the air.

He pulls out a cigarette and smokes one on the way to the salon, adding to the clouds he breathes out. He hates the new packages with their pictures of charred lungs on them. He gets why they’re there, but he also hates it. Too little too fucking late.

They got the American people hooked on cigarettes during the first world war, and have kept pumping it out ever since, under the guise of trying to make soldiers’ lives a little less terrible. His da didn’t smoke before the war, at least that’s what his ma used to say. They supposedly didn’t have many cigarettes in Romania when they were growing up. The reason why lungs like that exist in the first place is their own desire to make a profit. That kind of greed is the root of all fucking evil.

He crushes the butt of his cigarette against a wall two blocks from his destination.

The salon is small, modern. There’s a lot of dark wood, a lot of metal and white walls. There’s a crack in the wall behind the entrance desk, but they don’t seem to want to fix it just yet. It’s the kind of crack that might hide structural issues and he gets it. It’s not cheap to get that work done.

Charlie is not standing behind said desk when he walks in. He clears his throat a little loudly to announce he’s there but stays dutifully in front of the register, looking around the room. It’s half plunged into darkness, the timid sunlight not enough to chase the shadows of the deepest parts of the place.

The lights aren’t all on. They’re not officially open yet. It’s a privilege for him to be there. God Almighty, he doesn’t deserve that sort of kindness. He’s a broken shell of a man with a kill count that would make anyone kick him out without a second thought.

It takes a couple minutes before Charlie walks out from the backroom. Her hair is incredible, one side shaved so close to the skull it’s practically bold, the other flowing and beautiful, the back braided to keep the delimitation clean. A work of art, really.

“Sorry for making you wait,” she calls out and walks up to him. “Good to see you, James.”

He nods at her. “No worries.”

She shows him to his usual chair, gives him that weird robe to put on, grabs the spray bottle to wet his hair and her tray of things. He sits down on the leather, swallowing hard, staring down at the stack of magazines in front of him rather than the mirror.

Tension knots his shoulders high, he can feel it. He knows he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. He doesn’t want her to think he’s not thankful, but he can’t really bring himself to relax right now.

“Everything okay?” She asks as she walks back to him, putting everything in order by her side. She’s precise in how she moves, almost surgeon-like. He likes how she doesn’t move recklessly. When she does, it’s for a good reason. It’s comforting. “So the usual scissor haircut? Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Bucky nods at the first and second question, but pauses at the third. He hesitates long enough that she feels she has to justify her questions.

“You look a little worse for wear, buddy,” she explains. “I just want to make sure I’m doing everything I can to make you comfortable.”

Bucky opens his mouth and closes it. He looks up at her reflection for a second, trying to ignore his own face in the mirror. She looks a little tired, but kind and genuine. He’s going to leave her the biggest tip he’s ever given.

“I don’t mind accommodating you, okay? As long as it’s doable for me, I’ll do it, I just need you to communicate with me.”

Fuck, this is the nicest anyone has been to him in months. Sam talks to him like that too, sometimes, when he’s putting on the counsellor persona.

“Do you need the mirror to work?” He asks quietly.

He can almost hear the grinds in her head turning as she looks around, thinks through things… It takes a moment, and he’s about to open his mouth to say it’s no big deal when she smiles at him. “I might need it at the end, to make sure everything’s looking good together, but for most of the haircut, I can put something over it. Does that work for you?”

Bucky nods. The flood of relief and thankfulness unleashed into him rises up to his eyes. They prickle with tears. He immediately swallows them down as Charlie walks off to grab another of the robes. He’s not going to cry in public.

He immediately stands up when she comes back and helps her drape the robe over the mirror. She’s tiny and he’s already asking for so much. The least he can do is help.

They go back to their earlier position. He’s sitting in the chair, she’s standing by him, arranging her tools. He sees her slip off the ring that’s on her left ring finger and puts it on a chain that rests around her neck. She’s married.

“I’m going to start now and touch you,” she warns. “Let me know if you feel uncomfortable any time, okay?”

She’s asked that every time he’s been there. Granted, it’s the fourth time. But it’s more courtesy he’s been given within the last two months than he ever was for seventy years with Hydra. No one usually asks if he’s okay with being touched.

“Yes. Thank you,” he says quietly as she lays her hands onto his head, running her fingers through the strands and starting to figure out where and how she’s going to cut.

Her fingers are gentle but firm. Her touches are never too light. When she touches him, he can feel it, and he can feel when she doesn’t. There’s a clear, obvious difference.

Within minutes, he’s relaxing into the chair, eyes half closed, the exhaustion of the last couple of days weighing his eyelids down.

“You can’t fall asleep on me, James,” Charlie says softly. “I need you to hold your head up.”

He hums and shifts, opening his eyes to stare at the black fabric draped over the mirror. He straightens up a little. He’s going to fall asleep if he doesn’t have a conversation, so he tries to find a topic.

“You take off your wedding band for work?” he asks after a moment.

“Ah, yeah. I got tired of having bits of hair getting stuck between my skin and it.” She explains.

He doesn’t nod, because he doesn’t want to disturb her work. “So who’s the lucky fella?”

The energy of the room shifts. She has a small sigh and hesitation before she goes. “It’s a woman actually. My wife.”

“Ah, fuck,” he blurts out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

It’s been a struggle and a half to figure that part of the world out. He’s sucked more dick than most people alive can say, but seeing two people of seemingly the same gender kiss in public makes him want to run and hide.

“It’s all good,” Charlie mutters, and she seems a little less hesitant now.

“Really, I got… I don’t have a problem with it,” he says, and realizes how terrible that sounds. He closes his eyes with a grunt. “I sound like an asshole.”

Charlie chuckles behind him. Her scissors work lightly against his ears.

“Really, I’m happy for you. The whole marriage thing, it’s awesome. Back in my day, we couldn’t imagine that kind of thing.”

He’s pretty sure she knows who he is, how old he actually is. Hopefully, she’ll get what he means.

The last time he tried his hand at dating, sodomy was illegal. It could get him in prison or in a mental institute getting tortured to try and ‘cure’ him. He couldn’t even look at a guy too long, in case they’d take it badly, or worse, in case it was an undercover cop sent to find sodomites and arrest them.

When he was growing up, there were a few big name celebrities who were openly homosexuals, but by the time he hit his teenage years, they had been booted out of Hollywood and the world had turned even more oppressive against anyone they saw as different or wrong.

The only place a guy like him could perhaps get some action safely with another man was the YMCA. Bucky went there even if he was a Hebrew, and they famously turned the other way when it came to homosexual acts commited by their members. He’d never been with any guy there. With a few girls, once or twice..

Like Dorothea, the daughter of some rich donor who’d sponsored some of his matches. A spitfire sort of girl, who played coy and poked his bruises and went ‘oh, these must hurt so much’, then shoved him against the wall and wrapped him around her little finger so tight she almost had him calling her mistress when they did it.

“It’s been a lot to get used to,” he admitted, out loud this time. “Sometimes, I see two men kissing and I… it feels like I’m going to see them get beaten up on the spot. Or arrested.”

Charlie sighs softly. “New York’s nice, but it can still get pretty dangerous for people. Depends on the neighborhood, depends if you’re white or not… but it’s not perfect yet.”

For a second, he wishes they hadn’t covered the mirror, so he could look up at her.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “You’d think that kind of shit wouldn’t happen anymore, in 2024.”

She huffs behind him. “We take it one step at a time. We could get married, so that’s already that. At least the laws are less against us than they used to be,” she mutters. “The people… all we can do is keep existing.”

Bucky likes her a bit more every time she opens her mouth.

“May I ask about your wife?” He says after a moment of silence.

Charlie chuckles. “My favorite topic of conversation.” She starts a stream of information, their marriage date, how they met, and Bucky lets her talk, smiling slightly at the obvious tenderness in her voice. It’s nice to hear someone talk about their loved ones like that.

Her name is Katherine, she’s a psychology student at NYU, pursuing a PhD. They’ve been married for about four years. Neither of them got snapped, and they pretty much exchanged vows the second they found a working administrative structure.

They keep chatting about Charlie’s wife for a moment until she starts working on the fading hairs into his collar.

“So, what about you? Did you end up finding a partner?” She asks and he swallows.

He’s no good for dating right now. Who’d want a guy like him as a partner? Sure, the girl from Izzy’s, Leah, is cute and sarcastic and makes him smile more than a lot of people do but… He’s 106, with more trauma-related issues than anyone alive.

“Nah,” he mutters. “I’m not the dating kind. There’s a lot I gotta figure out first,” he says quietly.

Besides, it would be hard for anyone to exist in his world with Steve’s shadow hanging around every corner. ‘Yeah, the last person I was in love with is Captain America’. That would be unfair to anyone.

And there’s the whole issue of sex too. The last time he’s had sex was in 2014, if you can even call it sex. It’s not a problem of looks or opportunity. He’s aware he’s attractive, or at least desirable. He’s been made well aware of that fact, thoroughly, over the course of decades. He knows all about his eyes, his lips, his hair, his ass, his dick, his chest, his thighs, his prosthetic arm, his flesh one, his throat, his fucking feet.

He knows. He just has no idea what sex with someone that doesn’t hold pain over his head would be like. His fantasies are fucked up half the time, either violent or way too fucking sad. And he just doesn’t fucking trust anyone. He can’t. Charlie’s pretty much the only person he trusts to touch him.

“Yeah,” he adds. “I’m not in that place yet.”

Charlie nods. Her voice sounds like she’s smiling next time she speaks. “Take care of yourself first. That’s the smartest way to go about this.”

“It’s the only way,” he admits.

They fall to silence after that. Bucky feels self-conscious pretty much immediately. That hairdresser knows more about his personal life than anyone alive, including his therapist. It’s a horribly vulnerable position to be in, and he shudders at the realization of how much fucking trust he’s putting in this girl he’s barely ever met.

She’s a complete stranger and he just unpacked a lot of his shit to her, easily. She gently pulls his head until it’s tilted to the side and allows her to finish out the edges of his cut and he lets her. He lets her move his head around without complaint, barely tensing. What the fuck is wrong with him?

It’s not incredibly long until the cut’s over and he can pay for it, leave her twice the amount in tips, and hightail it back home, both cursing himself for his stupidity and more relaxed than he’s been in a long time.

His house reeks of sweat and misery when he comes home so he opens the windows to let the air flow through it. It’s vulnerable like this, anyone could get in, but it feels good. Sometimes, opening a little is what you need to chase away the misery.

#jewish bucky series #jewish bucky barnes #bucky barnes #marvel #mine #fic

[fayecallasdatingblog]

7 Tips on How to Communicate Effectively in a Relationship

It’s not every couple who knows how to communicate effectively in a relationship. Does this sound familiar?

You: “We need to talk.”

Him: “What the #%^& did I do this time?”

You: “You never listen!” 

If this is a typical communication session in your relationship, then this video and article are perfect for you because I’m going to teach you how to communicate effectively in a relationship!

Your Coach,

      P.S. Communication starts with understanding your partner. Download my Male Mind Map to get insight into what he’s thinking.

Introduction: How to Communicate Effectively in a Relationship

Having good communication in a healthy relationship is essentially having a partner who really talks to you, who is a good listener and a good friend, who likes and appreciates you for who you are, and does his part to make the relationship work.

If you don’t feel like you have that right now (or if you think you’re the problem in the communication equation), we’ll get into a few strategies on how to communicate effectively in a relationship in just a moment.

But before I get into these strategies, I want to say one thing: it is entirely possible to overcommunicate in a relationship. Frankly, I am guilty of overcommunicating in relationships. When I look back at past relationships — even the one I’m in right now — I see that I always want to talk about every little thing. I always thought that was a good quality of mine, but I’ve learned that in life and in relationships, you need to choose your battles, and quite frankly, bite your tongue sometimes.

You know what I mean. You start picking apart something he did or said, and before you know it, it’s blown up into a huge argument. That wasn’t your intention. So decide whether it’s necessary to talk about every tiny detail of your relationship. I’m betting not.

My big relationship tip of the year is this: Don’t let the little things ruin a relationship by constantly dwelling on them, and don’t let the big things ruin a relationship by NOT communicating them.

Got it? Great. Let’s dive into those tips on how to communicate effectively in a relationship.

1. Listen to Understand vs. Listen to Respond

If you listen to respond, you’re not really hearing him.

We are all guilty of this, so don’t feel bad if you realize you’re usually listening to respond. When you listen to respond, you’re not really listening…you’re busy thinking about what you want to say when he’s done. Maybe you’re coming up with your argument to his point, or want to tell a story.

Do you see a theme here? When you listen to respond, you’re being self-centered and not a good partner. You don’t really care what he’s saying, and believe me: he picks up on that.

On the other hand, listening to understand means that you do care what he’s saying, and you prioritize hearing him. Trust me: this is the kind of listening you need if you want to communicate effectively in a relationship.

2. Explain Your Understanding Rather Than Saying, “Yes, I Understand”

“WTF, Adam. I thought telling my boyfriend that I understand him was a good thing!”

I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, but if you want to be a better communicator in your relationship, try this technique instead.

After he tells you something, say to him, “What I hear you saying is…” and say, in your own words, what you heard him say.

This has a couple of benefits. First, it reassures him that you’re truly listening. But it also clarifies what you think you heard. If you use this technique and you got it wrong, he can better explain what he was thinking.

Let’s try it, shall we?

You: “What I hear you saying, Adam, is that if I say back to him what he said, then our communication will be stronger.”

Bingo.

3. Stay Solution-Oriented Rather Than Problem-Oriented

via GIPHY

In my many years of coaching people in relationships, I’ve seen a lot of communication issues that simply exist because one or both people in the relationship is focused on the problem rather than coming up with potential ideas to solve the problem.

So let’s say you’re sitting down with your boyfriend to express the fact that you feel he’s drinking too much. You don’t want to dwell on that problem, or he’ll feel like you’re attacking him, and he’ll get defensive. You’ll get nowhere like this.

Instead, communicate your ideas for solutions with tentativeness. Maybe something like, “Well, perhaps we could try…” Or “What if I did . . . and you did . . .”

By offering solutions softly rather than as a “You need to stop drinking now!” you communicate that you care about helping him or the two of you find a solution to something that is blocking your relationship.

4. Shut Off Your Devices

There is nothing more offensive than opening your heart up while someone’s checking Snapchat or a phone call comes in.

It’s common courtesy, ladies. Put it on silent. Leave it in your purse. Turn it off.

In a study by the University of Texas at Austin, students were observed while taking a test. They were asked to put their phones on silent. Some were asked to leave the phones in another room, while others had their phones near them. Those who had their phones in another room did significantly better on the test.

What is my point? Having your phone near you, even if it’s on silent, is distracting. You’re trying to communicate effectively in your relationship, so that means prioritizing listening to what your man has to say.

5. Use the Word “I” to Express How You Feel, Rather Than “You”

Using “you” too much isn’t a good way to communicate effectively in a relationship.

I’ve seen this a lot and even been guilty of it myself. Especially in an argument, it’s easy to start using “you” when talking to your boyfriend. This is a slippery slope.

“You always go out with your friends.”

“You never do the laundry.”

“You say things to hurt me.”

Unfortunately, talking in terms of “you” puts him on the defensive. He feels like you’re criticizing him, and he’s less likely to want to make changes to improve the relationship.

On the other hand, if you speak in terms of how you’re feeling, using “I,” you’re communicating your own emotions and reactions, not criticizing his behavior.

“I feel like we haven’t spent a lot of time together lately.”

“I’ve been getting overwhelmed with how many chores I have to do.”

“I was hurt by what you said to me.”

You can see that these versions tackle the same issues, but in a much softer way, and one that he’ll be eager to help fix.

Bonus: avoid absolute language. When you use words like “always” and “never,” first of all, you’re exaggerating, but you’re also setting the stage for an argument. He doesn’t always go out with his friends, though it may feel like it!

6. Don’t Interrupt

This is just rude behavior. I know you’re eager to say what’s on your mind, but let’s go back to #1. If you’re tempted to interrupt, it’s because you’re listening to respond. You both deserve to be heard. Let him have his turn…

Take a breath…

Then have your turn.

Interrupting can create arguments because he won’t feel like you’re really listening (you aren’t). If you want to remember what you wanted to say while he’s talking, make a mental note of it and come back to your point when he’s done.

7. Don’t Be Afraid to Say “I Don’t Know”

Not every discussion in a relationship needs to have a positive outcome or clearly-defined solution. It’s okay to walk away from it needing to think about it more. Sometimes not being in the middle of a heavy discussion is when your brain will come up with really great solutions, so plan a followup conversation if necessary.

Bonus Tip

Wanna know how to communicate effectively in a relationship? It’s as much what you do after you stop talking that can reinforce the positive vibes in your relationship. At the end of a good old-fashioned communication session, top it off with some good old-fashioned physical romance.

Having sex after a major talk will reduce stress and improve your mood. Sex is a fantastic bonding tool in a relationship, and those love endorphins will cement the two of you after what may have been a heavy conversation.

Conclusion:

I think after reading these tips on how to communicate effectively in a relationship, you’re starting to understand that it doesn’t have to be complicated to be a better communicator. But it goes both ways! You can put all the effort into you being a better communicator, but if your boyfriend doesn’t, it simply won’t work.

Know when to throw in the towel. If he’s unwilling to talk about the issues in your relationship, how can you expect to solve them?

So let me hear from you in the comments below: have you ever used any of these tips to communicate effectively in a relationship? How did it go? Do you have other strategies for us?

In part 2 of this article, I’ll give you 3 reasons why men emotionally shut down. Such a good topic. But to get access, you need to be a Sexy Confidence member. Signing up takes just seconds, and you’ll get instant access. Join today!

  The post 7 Tips on How to Communicate Effectively in a Relationship appeared first on Sexy Confidence.

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