#you end up snorting and shrinking down from your true form to give him a hug and remark that he’s VERY lucky he’s your favorite nephew

[dragonanon]

Death!Reader and God!Brother head cannons

Note: you can thank @sherlockhomies-42 for this, my brain hasn’t known peace since I read their stuff about the reader being Death in Hazbin Hotel. And if I don’t get my thoughts out right now I might honestly combust. 🙃

Lore HCs:

- Before Hell, Earth, and even Heaven existed, there was nothing….Until by some cosmic miracle, God popped into existence. God started by building himself a luxurious paradise; the same paradise that would eventually become Heaven.

- God relished in his wonderful new home for a while, but quickly grew bored with being alone. So he began creating animals and other small creatures to keep him company. At first, this worked out great! But to an ageless, immortal being like God, several years felt like mere moments to him; and before he knew it, his beloved creations had become incredibly old and were in ever increasing pain and discomfort as they continued to age, and there was nothing God could do about it. All he could do was create life, and once life had been created God was powerless to do anything to stop it or take it away.

- Just when it seemed God would be forced to watch his creations suffer forever, another incredible miracle happened; you popped into existence. Sporting six mighty black wings and a set of horns gracing your head, you gently touched each of the suffering creatures, and with your touch each one FINALLY had their suffering come to an end as they died, and their now freed souls traveled down to a newly created realm to rest and wait for whatever came next; Limbo.

- God watched in awe as you gave his beloved friends what he couldn’t; an ending. God realized quickly, based on an instinctual pull he felt towards you, that whatever force had created him had clearly struck again, and brought you into existence.

- God was now in the presence of a being just as powerful as him, but while you may have been his equal in terms of how you both came to be and the sheer power you both held, your powers were VERY different from his; almost like they were the opposite of his. That’s when it dawns on him, you’re his sibling! His counterpart! If his powers are to begin and yours are to end, then you’re meant to bring balance to everything! After all, there can never be a beginning if there’s no end, and there can never be an end if there is no beginning.

- It’s then that you’re given your name; “Death”, and as both the younger sister of God and the only one capable of bringing an end to any life he creates, your very existence leads to you both creating balance in the universe for the very first time.

- As the first order of business, God started creating ageless beings, like the Seraphim and other Angelic beings. And with your input, he gave them the gift of sentience so they could all think, feel emotions, and communicate with each other and you and your older brother, and the ability to create just like him.

- At some point though, God started getting more lazy and careless, given he didn’t have to do much now that he’d created ageless beings capable of thinking and creating things themselves. He suddenly had more free time than he knew what to do with, and it culminated in him pretty much just sitting back in his fancy palace, and allowing allowing his children do as they pleased while he casually observed from time to time from the sidelines. (Dude basically just became super depressed because now he essentially had nothing to do, and felt like he no longer served any purpose in existing. He hasn’t told you or anyone about these feelings tho, just drinks himself silly everyday and vibes in his palace.)

- This annoyed you GREATLY as you now had to essentially step up and provide guidance to the Seraphim and other Angelic beings when they needed it, because your brother couldn’t even be bothered to do that. You started to resent God for his “hands off” approach to running things, while God began to resent you for being “nagging and controlling”.

- The resentment eventually boiled over when Lucifer and Lilith inadvertently created Hell, and the other Seraphim and Angelic beings banished them both into the realm they’d created. Outraged by what God’s lack of involvement had caused, you got into a nasty fight with him as you pleaded with him to intervene and FINALLY put an end to the chaos he’d allowed to run rampant for centuries. God vehemently refused, insisting that the Seraphim and Angelic beings knew what they were doing and didn’t need his input. Furthermore, God believed that the punishment was justified given it was their actions that caused evil to invade the Earth.

- You were getting NO WHERE in this argument, so for the sake of your own sanity, you returned to Limbo to continue your work of bringing death to those who needed it. Along with the new task of taking dead souls back to Limbo, where they would stay until you determined whether to send them to Heaven or Hell based on how the soul had behaved while alive.

- That’s how it went for centuries before you decided you needed a little break, and informed Heaven and Hell that you would be taking a well deserved nap. This would mean that they would need to work together to sort souls in the meantime, as your reapers would ensure that death still continued appropriately on Earth while you sleep. Heaven and Hell agreed to this, and with that you curled up in bed and went to sleep.

- Speaking of reapers, reapers are permanent residents in Limbo. They are neither Angels nor Demons, but they’re ageless all the same. God actually made the first reapers for you, so they’re essentially the Limbo equivalent of Seraphim and other Heaven born angelic beings. These reapers, often called “First Ones”, have sentience and emotions since they were created by God himself. So you typically have First Ones lead the other reapers.

- All the reapers you’ve obtained since the First Ones are Limbo’s equivalent of Sinners, often called “Hollows”. Hollows are souls who in order to avoid eternal suffering in Hell, instead opted to willingly relinquish their humanity entirely and become an undead being working for you. In giving up their humanity however, the souls lose their ability to feel anything whatsoever. They’re little more than robots; doing what they’re told and not questioning it, all while feeling absolutely nothing. They’re called “Hollows” because that’s essentially what they are, hollowed out husks that now only exist to serve you.

- Regardless of whether they’re a First One or Hollow though, they all have the same job; find the humans whom you’ve given death to, reap their souls from their bodies, and guide them down to Limbo and care for them until you’ve sorted them into Heaven or Hell. The only real difference is the First Ones are usually in charge of the Hollows, ensuring that the Hollows reap the correct souls and are doing their jobs.

- If you had only known what your absence would cause, you would’ve NEVER went to sleep. For as SOON as you were out, Heaven took it upon themselves to decide where the souls went, completely defying your orders that Heaven and Hell work TOGETHER to decide that. To add insult to injury, Heaven also became incredibly elitist and picky about who got into Heaven, and this resulted in a vast majority of souls being sent to Hell for even the smallest infractions. The unbalanced approach of sorting souls eventually caused the over population problem and subsequent annual exterminations.

- With Heaven’s incredible arrogance and Hell’s complicity in this, both realms are in for a VERY rude awakening when you eventually wake up prematurely and see what they all have done. You’re gonna read Sera, Lilith, Lucifer, Adam, Lute, AND God the riot act for fucking your shit up

Okay lore time over, here’s the silly, more generalized, shit you’ve all been waiting for!

- When making the Seraphim, God made them in your image. He really just wanted to show his love and appreciation for you in some way, and he decided the best way to that was by basing the physical appearances of his first sentient creations on you. Hence why all the Seraphim are beautiful and have six wings like you do. It was literally like a kid excitedly making a piece of macaroni art of their sibling and being super excited to show it off to them

- All of the beings directly created by God are considered his “children”, so they all refer to him as “father”. Given that you’re God’s younger sister though, it also technically makes them your “nieces/nephews/niblings” and it makes you their “aunt”. You get called “Aunt Death” or “Auntie Death” by them a lot, but you’re cool with it because you think it’s cute.

- You weren’t supposed to have any favorites, but you always did have a soft spot for Lucifer in particular. He reminded you a lot of how God used to be back when you’d first come into existence; so energetic and excited to create things. You affectionately called him your “favorite nephew”.

- You haven’t seen God since the fight you had with him after Lucifer’s banishment into Hell. You actually miss your older brother dearly, but you’re still so pissed at him that you don’t feel like talking to him for the foreseeable future. You temporarily go back on this decision long enough to chew God out for allowing his children to make a complete mess of your realm, and destroying the balance you worked so hard to create and maintain. You’re back to giving him the silent treatment after that.

- Limbo is ONLY accessible by you, Cerberus, dead souls, and your reapers. No one else is capable of entering Limbo, hence why everyone assumed that the exterminations were successful in getting rid of excess Sinners. In reality however, all the “killed” Sinners were really just getting yeeted back into Limbo for re-sorting since something that’s already dead can’t die again.

- The persistent wailing and cries of the millions and millions of souls who were now trapped in Limbo was eventually what managed to wake you up early from your nap. You were not pleased in the slightest.

- Despite having a very gothic and menacing appearance, you’re incredibly gentle and kind. You feel great honor in being the one tasked with giving everyone the ending they need and deserve, and you take pride in caring for the souls that may have to stay in Limbo for an extended period of time whilst you decide where they will go next.

- You take no satisfaction in having a send ANYONE to Hell. It doesn’t feel good to know that you’re condemning someone to an eternity of suffering, no matter how deserving of that punishment they may be. Hence why it can sometimes take awhile for you to decide where a soul goes, because you want to be sure you’re really making the right decision.

- You’re saddened by how much like your brother Lucifer has become after his banishment, and you wholeheartedly believe that the ONLY reason he hasn’t completely turned into his father is that he has Charlie to think of.

- You and God are both fucking MASSIVE in your true forms. Like, “skyscrapers BARELY reach your hips”, massive. You’re both capable of shrinking down to be able to better interact with people, but even at your smallest you STILL tower over most Sinners.

- You’re low key salty that Lucifer went and had a baby while you were sleeping, because you missed out on getting to play the role of “doting great aunt” while Charlie was growing up. You’re trying really hard to make up for the lost time by visiting frequently. Much to the minor annoyance of a certain radio demon who doesn’t like the feeling of being in the presence of someone FAR more powerful than him. He deals with it and is polite tho because it’s FAR better to have someone as powerful as you be an acquaintance than an enemy.

- You can walk the streets of Hell with complete impunity because everyone either knows EXACTLY who you are and goes out of their way to stay in your good graces, or they end up finding out real fucking quick that you are NOT to be messed with.

- That being said, your presence is generally more accepted in Hell than it is in Heaven. In Hell, you’re far more likely to be willingly approached and have a nice conversation with a Demon. Whereas in Heaven, everyone is scared shitless of you except for Emily and actively tries to avoid even making eye contact with you. It’s like pulling teeth just trying to get someone to tell you what time it is. Of course you can ask anyone in Heaven anything and they’ll respond because they’re too afraid not to lol. But they’ll look like they’re on the verge of fainting then entire time you’re talking to them.

- The aversion to you in Heaven gets better over time as you’re seen having friendly interactions with Emily, but most Angels still get a bit uneasy in your presence. Sera is one of them because she knows that you’re BEYOND pissed at her and she’s one more fuck up away from getting dragged to Limbo and being made into one of your reapers to serve you AND the souls she hurt.

- Much like sending souls to Hell, you get no satisfaction in turning someone into a Hollow. Completely stripping someone of their emotions and sentience is not an enjoyable experience, even if it does result in you getting more help in Limbo. Despite this, you’re still required to make this offer to all souls set to be sent to Hell. You do your best to explain though what the consequences of this decision are though, and thankfully most souls see what becoming a Hollow entails and opt to keep their humanity. However every now and then you’ll get few who insist that becoming a Hollow will be a better fate, so you end up with new reapers.

- Vox is BIG MAD that his biggest rival is now rubbing elbows with the LITERAL Goddess of death. Dumbass had no clue who you even were at first so he didn’t care, but as soon as found out you were Death, the ensuing meltdown he had knocked the power out for the whole Pride ring. Alastor is aware of how pissed Vox is about this, so he purposely goes out of his way to play up his interactions with you when he knows Vox is watching. He can practically hear Vox’s apoplectic screeching when he does it, and it brings him immense joy every time.

- You’re often accompanied by Cerberus; a massive, three headed, doglike beast. God made him for you as a gift AGES ago to be a bodyguard and companion for you. Not that you ever NEED a bodyguard, but the thought was appreciated all the same. You ADORE Cerberus, he is the goodest good boy that ever did a good in your book. Cerberus loves you just as much and loves to give you kisses and cuddles.

- Lucifer was dog sitting Cerberus for you while you slept. Cerberus was a little shit during this time because he missed you, so he would often purposely ignore any commands Lucifer gave him. Charlie loved him though and he was actually great with her, so Lucifer put up with it.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #death! reader #reader is death #death! reader head cannons #god these were fun to write #Lucifer trying to appeal to your generosity and mercy when you first storm into hell like: #‘Hello aunt Death! Wow you look great! Did you did you do something different with your hair? gosh it’s so good to see you!’ #meanwhile internally he’s like: oh god oh fuck please don’t kill me please don’t kill me pleasedon’tkillmepleasedon’tkillmepleasedo- #you end up snorting and shrinking down from your true form to give him a hug and remark that he’s VERY lucky he’s your favorite nephew

[parchmentedpetrichor]

➳all the king's men ♡ ☾

in which all the king's men couldn't put the pieces of y/n l/n together. we all have the days where we're insecure and broken, this is one of hers.

fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: ±1.8k

tw: insecurity, bullying

please if you are having overly harmful thoughts about yourself, talk to a friend or a professional. you are perfect the way you are and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

drop a follow if you wanna see more of this content!!

my masterlist:D

it's so sad that the best people tend to think the worst of themselves

all the king's men

y/n, for lack of a better description, was feeling like humpty dumpty. she had seen herself in the mirror last night, and felt positively traumatised. she had come back from a quidditch practice session, and the results were quite terrifying.

she didn't understand. quidditch made the guys more toned and even a few of her teammates had abs. what did it do to her? well, it made her shoulders broad, which she thought was highly unattractive to anyone, and not at all slim! sure, it was fun and kept her fit, but terribly horrible, in her opinion, in trying to fit in to the beautiful girls that went to hogwarts.

she admired angie johnson and cho chang and ginny. she really did. y/n knew how hard it was to be beautiful, and she liked when other people were so beautifully beautiful. it just made her feel terrible, because what was the chance of her keeping her boyfriend in fred weasley when fiercely pretty girls were dancing elegantly around her?

there wasn't any time to be mopey and sad, so she gathered all her books and immediately went to breakfast. she didn't even bother going over to fred and greeting him. she saw how happy he was laughing with george and lee. surely she wouldn't bother him. instead she plopped down next to alicia.

"you ok?" alicia spinnet asked her.

she nodded, "fine."

"you sure?"

"no."

"wanna talk about it?"

"do you think it's too early to get plastic surgery?" y/n joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"what the fuck, no. what's up?" alicia's eyes were lit with concern.

"i don't feel pretty," her voice was but a whisper.

alicia caught it.

"why? you're literally adorable."

"you're my best friend, you're supposed to tell me that."

"hmm, nah, i truly believe it."

"well i don't," y/n said miserably.

"oi, l/n, your hair down today?" adrian pucey snarled, "it's gonna give me aids."

a few students snorted.

"you can get aids then. shut your mouth," y/n retorted back.

the whole school look startled. was this the same, prefect, goody-two-shoes y/n l/n?

adrian pucey opened his mouth.

"i said shut. your. mouth."

fred weasley watched in a mixture of furiousness and pride. he knew that pucey had a crush on y/n too. he was just terrible in expressing it. fred didn't like the way y/n's eyes sadly flitted to alicia afterwards. and she hadn't come up to him and given him a kiss today. maybe she just wanted a bit of space??

"see?" y/n sighed, "not even my hair is pretty." she tied it up.

alicia laughed, "adrian just wants your attention."

that made y/n laugh. "why? why?" it was a rhetorical question. she got up, and smiled at adrian in the most menacing way that he shrunk.

"miss l/n, your outburst was quite rude-" snape began.

"my apologies professor, of course, i was in the wrong. adrian pucey brought the topic surrounding my hair up, called it ugly. now what would you do if a student called your hair ugly?" y/n said, eyes burning with fury but conscience too good to lose her temper.

"i-i would give them a scolding."

"likewise. good day, professor."

"fucking hell, he is such a sh-" alicia muttered as she got up and followed y/n out to class.

"ali, that's enough," their retreating voices could be heard.

fred kept his eye on y/n through the day, giving her the space he thought she needed.

she looked very like her normal self, until she encountered pucey again.

"l/n, nice squinty eyes," pucey laughed.

y/n's shoulders sagged. her eyes dimmed and she let her ponytail fall in front of her face.

"ponytail won't fix them," he laughed meanly, "can they fix your dumpling body?"

fred frowned deeply, "fuck off, adrian," he angrily said, "that's my girlfriend you're talking to."

"oh, you have someone like weasley to save you? i don't even think you deserve him as a boyfriend."

y/n didn't answer, fearing that tears would spill out of her eyes. she had just been feeling worse and worse about herself. instead, when the bell signalled the end of classes, she hurried quickly off to wherever, trying to pull herself together.

she felt like she was at the bottom of the earth. her eyes finally let go of the tears that needed to be spilt. she leant sobbing against a stout tree in the forbidden forest, head slumped gloomily against the trunk, eyes trying to find anything, anything, that could be remotely comforting and hands fiddling nervously with the flowers that bloomed happily around her. her whole body shook in anxiety. she wished she had her mum or dad here to help her. but they were back at home.

how did fred love her?

she wished she didn't have stupid hair or squinty eyes or a dumpling body. but she couldn't ignore the mean, yet so true, remarks about her body adrian made. they were morally wrong and he deserved to be stabbed, but they were factual. she used to just laugh and joke about him too, but now she realised that maybe she should pay more attention to the way she eats and works and the way she talks and looks and presents herself and put more makeup on and-

fred found her crying there, by the little pond, shrinking away from the mere sight of her own appearance. he didn't get it.

well, he did, but he didn't know why such a beautiful girl like his girlfriend was crying.

"y/n?"

she flinched and stopped crying.

"sorry, i'll leave. i don't think you want a dumpling of a girlfriend sharing this nice space," she attempted to joke, but it fell short. she wasn't joking anymore. her tone was serious and genuine. the unexpected good nature pucey's remarks were received in usually was gone, and for good reason. it had broken her into the tiniest little pieces.

fred felt it. he felt his heart stop.

"is this about what pucey said to you, lovely?" he asked gently, cupping her cheek, and pulling her close to him.

she nodded, feeling immensely better already. the smell of him made her calm down insanely.

"so you don't want space?"

"n-no, i was just..." she trailed off uncertainly.

"mhm?" he looked at her and waited.

"it's silly."

"well, it's got you crying, i don't think so."

"the stuff a-adrian says is true," her voice was quiet and small.

fred frowned.

"i'm not cute or elegant or even hot," she continued, "i-i'm not as pretty as anyone here."

"well, my little love, if my opinion even matters, you are stunning. i think you're the prettiest person in the world, both on skin and in here," he patted his own heart, "do you know how long i pined after you?"

"no?"

"i'm still pining after you, gorgeous."

"d-do you mean it when you say gorgeous?" her eyes were broken and teary.

"of course. it hurts me when you are upset. because you are gorgeous and much more because you are so nice and good to me and to everyone else too. pucey's a complete shithead and when i next see him i will bash his head in. i'm so sorry i didn't notice, love, i thought you were mad at me."

"no it's fine, i just don't understand. you're fred weasley. so many girl's want you and you-you choose...me?," a sad frown was etched on her face, her tone confused.

"y/n, you're my only choice. i don't want the other girls. i can see the appeal of you. i-i know i'm not the best with words like you, but i really care about you. i love you, i adore you, you're the bestest person i've ever met."

and he knows he's brought the happiness back in her. she giggled. he felt relieved, because he knew he wasn't good at all at comforting people and y/n was so special to him- why didn't he say that earlier to her?

"bestest isn't a word, freddie."

"well you get what i mean, right? you're really special to me," there it was.

she nodded slowly, a small smile forming on her lips as she kissed him on the lips, before snuggling closer to him.

"darling, wouldn't you rather go back to the castle to cuddle?"

hesitantly, she shook her head.

"why?"

"'drian's there."

"adrian cannot hurt you, okay? whatever he tells you is wrong. he's wrong," he gently says, pulling her close to him, "besides, if he does, i'm here, and you're strong."

"i just cried about it, i can't be strong."

"crying doesn't mean you're weak, darling, sometimes we all cry and that's okay."

y/n nodded.

"here, i brought this for you, maybe it's a comfort??" he blushed as he handed her his quidditch hoodie.

she grinned and put it on.

he couldn't stop blushing at the sight of her, so he tilted his face away to save himself the embarrassment.

noticing and mistaking his turned away head for disgust, y/n took the hoodie off, downcastedly handing it back to him.

"sorry," she gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as fred looked at her in confusion.

"y-you can have it back, yeah, there's no need to hide your shame, here, s-sorry," she stuttered out.

"shame?" he asked, looking worriedly down at her.

"mhm," she fiddled with the hem of her shirt, "sorry."

he finally understood.

"angel, look at me."

she reluctantly looked up at him.

"i wasn't feeling disgusted at all. i-i was actually embarrassed because i was blushing," his cheeks heated up again, "like i probably am right now. you're too beautiful. i was blushing too much."

"oh."

"yeah. now put it back on," he demanded, as he cheekily tugged the jumper over her head, blushing again as he saw her standing there in his jumper.

"c'mon!" he said, carrying y/n's school bag as they made their way to the castle, his arm wrapped protectively around his waist and the bright gold letters on the back of his sweater shining for anyone and everyone to see.

they didn't see pucey, thank goodness and they ended up talking with george and katie bell and angie and alicia by the fire.

as y/n smiled and giggled with katie over something highly scandalous, fred had his eyes on her, not so much monitoring her, but he couldn't keep them off of her.

when he had noticed her words start to become short and slightly slurred by tiredness, he lead her back to her dormitory.

"feeling better princess?"

she nodded, "you're so good to me, freddie. i love you."

it made his heart swell with happiness.

"i'd go to the moon and back for you, y/n."

she smiled drowsily, "and i, you."

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagine #fred and george #weasley twins #weasley family #harry potter #fanfic #gryffindor #y/n #frederick weasley #fredweasley #fred weasley x reader #hogwarts #harrypotter

[ayybtch]

The One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Things are going up and down for you as you try to navigate life after your breakup with Bucky. Everything leads to an accidental run-in with him at a coffee shop that leaves you and Bucky wondering if things could have been different. Based on the song The 1 by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: This is an angsty fic. The reader is actively struggling with mental illness and a breakup. There are mentions of being on antidepressants and symptoms such as anxiety, insomnia, and sometimes not having the energy for personal care, but nothing in-depth.

Word Count: 11,261

A/N: I owe a very special thank you to @borkingbarnes​, who has supportively been screaming at me for writing this ever since I told her this idea and gave me some brilliant suggestions during her beta read. The dividers were made by the lovely @whimsicalrogers​.

“So, how have the new meds been treating you? Are they still making you nauseous after you first take them?”

You looked across the room at your therapist and shook your head, “No, they’re not making me nauseous anymore. I’ve been making sure that I’ve got food in my stomach first and not just a cup of coffee. I’ve also been better about taking them at the same time each day,” you said.

She smiled at you. “Do you feel like they’ve been helping?”

You shrugged and offered a half-smile back. Not satisfied with your answer, she continued probing. “Well, do you feel like you have more energy than on the other meds? Are you sleeping more….?” She trailed off at the end, voice hopeful.

“Oh. Yeah, I have been sleeping a little better. I’ve been sleeping closer to 5 hours each night, though it’s still taking a really long time for me to fall asleep. I’ve had more energy but I don’t know if that’s because of the meds or the sleep?” You trailed off a bit at the end, unsure of if that truly answered her question.

“It could be a mix of both. I’m glad to hear you’re sleeping more though, you weren’t getting very much when you first started seeing me.” She offered you another smile before adjusting herself in her seat and continuing, “Now, what have you been doing with this extra energy? Any new hobbies, catching up with friends, going on dates, anything like that?”

You shook your head no. “I don’t have much of a friend group anymore, not since…” your voice faded before the sentence finished. You closed your eyes and shook your head slightly. Pull yourself together. “I am meeting Natasha after this, actually. She and I were friends before everything and she’s the only one that’s really stuck around since. It’s been about a month since I last saw her so I’m looking forward to seeing her.” The therapist nodded and offered a sympathetic smile that made your stomach turn. You decided to continue before she chimed in.

“I’m running again too. I used to go on a nightly run before things got bad. It’s not for as long or as far as I used to but it’s better than sitting on the couch, I guess.”

She nodded and began writing on her notepad, “That’s wonderful. What do you enjoy about your runs?”

Her question was unexpected and it took you a minute to answer. “It’s peaceful. It’s one of the few times I can shut my brain off and zone out. Though, if it’s a bad day it doesn't always work.”

She nodded and paused, as if trying to carefully choose her next words. “One thing I’ve noticed whenever stuff comes up is that you always talk about ‘before’, but what about the ‘after’? Have you thought about trying to get back out there and start your ‘after’?” An uncomfortable knot formed in your stomach as she spoke.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” you whispered.

She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. Eventually, she nodded and continued to make notes.

                                         ***

The session continued for another half hour before it ended with a smile and a brief conversation with her secretary, confirming your appointment for the same time next week.

As you stepped out the door, you let out a sigh of relief. Therapy sessions were hard. Even though today’s session had been relatively mild, the process was still draining and left you feeling exhausted most days. It really helped though and making the decision to go was one of the best decisions you could have made for yourself. A smile settled on your face as you pulled your jacket tighter across your chest before beginning your walk to meet Natasha.

You had discovered soon after starting therapy that walking to and from the appointment gave you the time you needed to prepare yourself for the session and unwind after. The hustle and bustle of New York created the perfect background noise for you to organize your thoughts. Most days it helped you process the questions the therapist asked. Often, you answered them a little deeper than what you had in the session knowing that nobody would know the real answer except for you.

Guilt gnawed at you as you thought about it. Wasn’t the whole point of therapy to be honest? Were you still getting as much out of it as you could if you were completely honest? You shook your head and sighed. Sometimes there were things better left unsaid.

One of the many things that had been left unsaid had to do with what you missed most about being with him. You had shrugged it off when she asked, saying it was nice having a person around because it was less lonely. While true, the full answer was more painful than you felt comfortable admitting out loud. He had understood you in ways nobody else ever had and nobody else ever would again. It gave you the freedom to be unapologetically you every second of the day. The thought of not being known like that again and having to put on a facade felt like the loneliest existence the universe had to offer. It made your chest ache.

Today though, it gave you the chance to collect your thoughts before Natasha had the opportunity to interrogate you. To be fair, it wasn’t really an interrogation. She was far too gentle when she asked you questions, though you’re sure that’s one of the many techniques she chose from. Interrogation or not though, she would be watching you like a hawk the entire meal to make sure you were actually doing as well as you were claiming.

It wasn’t long before you were standing outside Natasha’s favorite Italian restaurant. She always recommended meeting up here purely because of the breadsticks. She swore they were the best in New York and ate at least three full baskets by herself each visit. You paused before entering, suddenly nervous about how it would go. There’s nothing to worry about, Natasha isn’t going to bring him up and isn’t going to push me past my boundaries. You weren’t quite as convinced as you would have liked to be, but you couldn’t delay it any longer as you stepped inside.

A blast of warm air surrounded you as you were greeted by the hostess. It didn’t take for her to lead you back to where Natasha was sitting, a glass of wine already in her hand. A second sat waiting on the table for you.

You walked over, bending down to give her a side hug and a peck on the cheek.

“You’re late,” she said reproachfully, eyes zeroed in on yours.

“I know, I’m sorry. My session went a little over today.” You pulled out your chair and sat down before continuing, “How are you? It’s good to see you.”

Natasha smiled brightly. “I’ve been good. I’ve been really looking forward to this, I was so happy when you said yes. It feels like it’s been years since I’ve seen you.” You grinned slightly and she continued. “I’m sorry that it’s been so long since we’ve had a chance to catch up. Work has been keeping me even busier than usual. Stark has been working on all sorts of new tech developments and has somehow recruited me for testing.”

You nodded as you took a sip of your wine, “Nothing he’s made has killed you yet. That’s impressive.”

She snorted, “He’s lucky I didn’t flat out say no. His last update to the Falcon wings sent Wilson through the ceiling and landed him in the medbay for three days with a concussion.” Natasha noticed the look of concern on your face and waved her hand as she sipped on her wine. “He’s fine, don’t worry. All of the Avengers men have skulls harder than concrete.” The two of you burst into laughter at the thought.

A waiter arrived as your laughter died down to take your orders and to refill Natasha’s wine glass. You both thanked him as he turned to walk away. A quiet settled over the table and Natasha’s gaze landed firmly on you.

“So how have you been?” she asked softly, voice far gentler than anyone would expect from a former assassin. You shrugged and avoided eye contact.

“Some days are better than others,” you said, “Overall things are better than they’ve been for a while now though. My shrink has me on some new meds that seem to be helping and I’ve been working harder on doing little things to take care of myself every day, not just the good days.”

Natasha nodded, eyes still fixed on you. Slowly, she reached a hand out across the table and placed it on top of yours. “You know I’m always here for you, right? You can call me any time of day and as long as I’m not on a mission, I can be at your apartment within the hour.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at her words. You nodded quickly, eyes blinking fast to try and keep the tears that were welling up from falling. She gave your hand a quick squeeze before pulling back.

“Now where the hell are our breadsticks? This is going to be a failed meal if I have less than twelve in me before the main dish arrives.” Her words made you burst out laughing once again and succeeded in putting a smile on your face for the remainder of the meal.

                                        ***

“Are you sure I can’t drive you back to your apartment?” Natasha asked, wrapping her scarf around her neck as the two of you stepped out of the restaurant. You nodded at her and smiled.

“I enjoy walking, it clears my mind,” you said. She let out a disapproving hum but didn’t argue further. She pulled you into a bone-crushing hug before turning and walking towards where her car was parked. You watched as she stepped in and waved as she pulled out of the parking lot. You stood and watched until her car was out of sight before turning to start the walk home.

As it was on the walk to the restaurant, the busy streets provided the perfect background noise needed for you to quiet your mind. You focused on your breathing, allowing yourself to try and channel any residual nervous energy outward. With each breath, the faces passing by began to blur. Neon signs hanging in the windows of the shops you passed by became nothing more than a gentle glow in your peripheral. With each step you took, the background seamlessly blended together more and your focus on yourself heightened. A sense of calm settled itself in your chest. The feeling grew stronger with each block you passed until a small smile made its way onto your face. That feeling ended abruptly as you turned around the next block.  

There was a large crowd waiting at the bus stop, but your eyes focused on one man. You stared at his silhouette, panic building with each second. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you and your feet had magically turned into cinder blocks. Is that...? No, it couldn’t be…

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, the man turned slightly so you could see his face, and a sigh of relief left you. You stood there a moment longer to examine his side profile. It wasn’t him; he just happened to look like him. He was about the same height and weight, with similar chocolate waves. Your eyes landed on his light brown leather jacket and a lump formed in your throat. He had worn a similar jacket the day you met. It felt like being thrown back in time as you continued to stare at the man in front of you.

Natasha drug you through a hallway, not caring about your protests to slow down. “I have someone I want you to meet.” She smirked as she spoke, leaving you to wonder what she was plotting.

A group of choices greeted the two of you as you entered the room. You waved at Steve and Sharon sitting on the couch as Natasha continued to pull you across the room to where two men were standing. One of the men was Sam, whom you had met the last time Natasha brought you to the compound. The other was Bucky Barnes. You hadn’t met him before but you knew who he was. It was impossible not to given how public everything about Hydra had become.

“Barnes, I have someone I’d like you to meet,” Natasha said, turning slightly towards you.

Bucky turned to look at you, offering a charming smile as he held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Bucky.”

You shook his hand and introduced yourself, hoping to god you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. The pictures of him floating around on the news did not do him justice. Bucky was absolutely breathtaking. His smile lit up his eyes in a way no camera could ever hope to capture. His hair was cropped just above his shoulders, falling into a beautiful wavy pattern. You realized you were staring and felt your face get hot.

“Uh, I like your jacket,” you mumbled, hoping he hadn’t realized you were staring. The leather jacket was a beautiful light brown. It looked old, but well loved at the same time.

He smiled widely at you, “Thanks! Leather jackets are kind of my thing. Sam here thinks I have too many but there’s no such thing as too many leather jackets, wouldn’t you agree?”

As the memory floated away, you couldn’t help but think how Bucky probably would’ve gone up to the man to ask about his jacket. You chuckled at the thought. As soon as he walked away, he would’ve immediately started looking up where he could find one for his own closet. It didn’t matter how many leather jackets he had. He always wanted more.

The chuckle died on your lips and was replaced by an uncomfortable knot settling in your stomach. A heavy weight fell on your chest and you forced yourself to find the energy to trudge forward.

The remainder of the walk was a blur, but not in the same way it had been before. This wasn’t the good kind of blur that helped you to focus. It was the kind that left you feeling suffocated and as if everything would come crashing down all at once. That had been the first happy thought about Bucky since the two of you broke up. His presence in your thoughts was so strong, he might as well have been walking right next to you. You could practically feel his knuckles brushing against yours with each step you took. If you closed your eyes, you swore you could smell his cologne.

The harsh reality of how alone you were hit you as the greeting from your apartment’s doorman pulled you from your thoughts. You shot him a small smile before rushing inside and all but sprinting up the stairs. Your hands shook as you unlocked the door to your apartment, though you couldn't tell if it was from your thoughts of Bucky or from the sudden burst of energy that left you slightly winded.

Once inside, you rushed to your bedroom and changed into the first sports bra and pair of leggings you saw. You needed to get Bucky off your mind and the only way you knew how was to run. It was going to be a long run tonight.

The doorman waved at you again as you exited the building, surprised to see you again so soon. “Someone is feeling motivated today I see,” he joked. You shrugged and slowly began to jog.

                                        ***

It took a while to get into your groove, but once you were there you felt good. The movement helped settle the anxious energy that had been building since you had seen the man at the bus stop, while the steady breathing brought your focus back to the here and now just like it had before. That’s something else to mention if she asks about my runs again, you thought.  These runs bring my focus to this exact moment in time.

That thought was lost as you passed a small, hole in the wall theater. Small groups were exiting the building, each talking excitedly amongst themselves about the movie that had just finished. The nauseous feeling from earlier came back as memories resurfaced. That was Bucky’s favorite movie theater. Every Sunday they played movies from the 1920s and 1930s. He used to drag you along with him whenever he saw one he remembered from his childhood. Each time he swore up and down that you were about to experience a cinematic masterpiece like no other and that it would change the way you looked at movies. You always rolled your eyes as he said it, but the magic you felt in that theater with him was like no other.

Movies made back then were so different from the movies made now. The characters felt so much more real. They were allowed to be people. Their faults and flaws didn’t take away from the good things about them. These films never failed to make you feel all of the emotions you were meant to feel and each time you exited the theater, you couldn’t help but wish you could’ve remained in that little bubble just a few minutes longer. Those bittersweet feelings about the ending never lasted long though, as Bucky would wrap his arm around your shoulder and proceed to talk your ear off about the movie until you made it home.

“You know Doll, the greatest films of all time were never made,” he said, smiling down at you.

You just laughed and shook your head.“Bucky that makes absolutely no sense.”

Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically, making you laugh again. “Think about it though, how many movies haven’t been made because someone decided they weren’t good enough for the big screen? How many stories have been brought into existence but never been told to another living soul?”

A car horn brought you back into reality. Bitterness crept into your chest as you processed the memory that had just played out picture-perfect in your mind. Those afternoons with him in the theater had been some of the best afternoons of your life. Even if you weren’t crazy about the movie, Bucky’s sheer excitement about it was enough to convince you of how wonderful it truly was. If only he had felt that same amount of joy in other areas of your relationship.

Your bitterness slowly began to turn to anger as you thought about the last few months of being with Bucky. Sunday matinees had stopped being a regular thing as Bucky’s work schedule picked up until they stopped happening entirely. His new position training new SHIELD agents and prospective new members to the Avenger ate away at his time. All of his time. It got to the point Bucky never stopped working. Even at home, his thoughts were on paperwork to be filed, training to be planned, or meetings to be run. You’d be sitting on the couch next to him trying to talk only to receive disinterested “hmms” or the occasional “That’s nice honey.”

You tried bringing it up to no avail. He always brushed it off and said things would calm down eventually and that he just needed you to hold out a bit longer. He never outright said his work was more important to him but the implication was there and you felt the weight of it every single day. You bit your tongue and played along for a while, but after several months of hearing the same excuses, you finally snapped. Unfortunately, so did Bucky.

“All you ever do is work. I can’t remember the last time we went and did something together. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time you cared enough to even ask me about my day. It’s like you don’t even want me around anymore,” you hissed, glaring at Bucky.

“Excuse me for caring about my fucking job. One of us has to if we’re going to continue affording this place,” he scoffed.

Ice filled your veins as you stared at him, fist clenched at your side. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, we both know you’re barely getting your work done on time. You lay here on the couch all day watching TV. You’re lucky you’re allowed to work from home because you look like a walking disaster half the time. You’ve stopped wearing clean clothes, you hardly shower, you hardly eat, and you hardly sleep. Face it, you’re depressed.” His voice was flat as he spoke.

You furiously blinked back tears that were trying to well up as you processed his words. “First of all, I am not depressed,” you muttered, “Second, if I’m such a walking disaster then what are you even still doing here?”

“I am still here because I care about you. I have lost track of how many times I have asked you to get help. I’ve been where you are, I know what you’re going through and I know what it takes to come back from it. If you never bleed, you’re never going to grow. If you can’t move past this, then we -” he paused to motion between the two of you “- can’t move past this.” His eyes never left yours as he spoke. There was no malice in them, but there was also none of the kindness or warmth you wished for. His gaze just felt indifferent.  

You remained silent as you tried to find words. Bucky continued watching you, waiting expectantly for a response. A response never came, however, and he let out a loud sigh.

“If you don’t have anything to say to that, then I think we’re done here. I can’t keep doing this anymore. I love you, but neither of us is happy. I can’t give you what you want and you can’t give me what I need,” Without another word, Bucky grabbed his coat and walked out the front door of the apartment.

That was the last time that you saw Bucky. He had sent you a text a few days later asking when a good time to come pick up his stuff would be. You responded begrudgingly, telling yourself that the sooner his stuff was gone the sooner your life could get back to normal. When the day came, you forced yourself to get out of the apartment. The thought of seeing him after what went down between you left you seeing red. When you finally went back after he left, you felt none of the happy emotions you had convinced yourself you would feel.

Instead, you felt the empty spots in the room. Every missing item you noticed felt like a blow to the stomach and caused fresh tears to well up in your eyes. Pictures were no longer hanging from the walls; random gaps were in the bookshelves; his leather jacket was no longer slung across the back of the chair he loved in the living room. You stumbled back to your room with your eyes closed, refusing to see what other memories had been ripped from their rightful homes. Once there, you collapsed on the bed and laid there for two days. It wasn’t until Natasha broke into your apartment to check on you after countless missed calls and ignored texts that you finally moved from that spot.

For the millionth time that day, your stomach twisted as thoughts of Bucky floated around in your head. Despite it all, you regretted not being there when he came to get his things. There was never a proper goodbye between you and the thought drove you mad sometimes. Maybe if I had been there, we could’ve worked this out. You scoffed at the thought, but couldn’t deny the heaviness lingering in your chest.

At times you considered reaching out to him, wondering if he would be willing to give you the closure you so desperately needed. Even if it was just over text, it might be better than the nothing you currently had. You still had his number. The two of you even still followed each other on social media. He liked what few posts you made, but you had never been able to bring yourself to look at the stuff he posted. The lines of communication were there, you just had to use them. But communication is a two-way street; if he wanted to talk to you, he’d reach out. Right? That thought had kept you from texting him more times than you could possibly count.

Questions about what could have happened that day swirled throughout your head as your feet pounded against the pavement. Could you have fixed things, or would it still have ended in breaking up? Could you have agreed to still be friends? Would you have at least been able to say goodbye, or would he have walked silently out the door again?

The thoughts continued to plague you until the ache in your legs was too strong to take another step. Out of breath, you looked around at where you stopped trying to figure out how far you had run. It wasn’t until you noticed the fountain about a dozen feet behind you that you realized where you were.

Tony had once rented out a plaza nearby for a 1920s themed fundraiser gala the first year you and Bucky were dating. The gala was the first public event you ever attended with him, though it certainly hadn’t been your last. Natasha had taken you shopping and helped you find a flapper-style dress leading up to it. The two of you did your hair and makeup together, giggling about how you felt like you were getting ready for a high school dance. When you stepped out of the room with Natasha, Bucky wasn’t able to speak. He spent the whole night staring at you like a lovestruck teenager, only to turn bright red whenever someone mentioned it.

Towards the end of the night, you and Bucky had drunkenly stumbled out of the plaza to escape the crowd and found your way over to this fountain. Rather, you had stumbled out drunkenly. Bucky wasn’t affected by human alcohol and hardly had any of the Asgardian mead Thor had so generously brought. While he was a little more cheery than usual, he wasn’t intoxicated enough to even pretend like he was tipsy.

A giggle left your lips as you stumbled forward. “Bucky, I need to find somewhere to sit down. I need to take off my heels.”

Bucky laughed at you and picked you up, carrying you bridal style. He spun around slowly as he searched for somewhere he could set you down. His eyes eventually settled on the fountain and began walking towards it. He carefully set you down before sitting down next to you. His eyes were fixed on you as you took off your shoes, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth as you did. You smiled over at him, before turning around to stare at the fountain in wonder. A giggle left your lips as you pulled up your dress and began walking around in the fountain.

You laughed any time you went through a jet of water. The temperature difference was soothing against your skin and almost left a tickling sensation as you passed. Eventually, you arrived back at where he was sitting and the smile on his face filled your stomach with butterflies. You bent down slightly to press your lips against his, your hands making their way through his hair. His hands landed on your hips and pulled you closer to him. You felt dizzy as he held you, though you weren’t sure if it was him or the glasses of champagne. You pulled away abruptly as an idea struck you, leading to Bucky’s eyes opening in confusion. His gaze fell upon the mischievous look you wore and he opened his mouth to speak. Before he managed to make a sound, your hands left his hair and were reaching down to splash water onto him.

He tried to catch your hands to stop you, but you stepped back just out of reach, but not far enough you couldn’t keep splashing him. Without a word, he reached down to take off his shoes and socks. A gasp left you as he stepped into the fountain and you rushed to hide behind the fountain’s centerpiece. He chased after you, hands eventually catching your waist and spinning you around to face him. He stared down at you, wonder and adoration written on his face. He slowly leaned forward to press his lips against yours.

The dizzy feeling from before came back, though this time you could say with absolute certainty it was because of the man standing in front of you. His lips were so soft against yours, yet still carried such a force they left you breathless. Fireworks had nothing on how he made you feel. No words could ever hope to describe the love and adoration bursting in your chest.

This time, he was the one to pull back first. He moved his lips up slightly, pressing a kiss to your nose and your forehead before leaning his head against yours. “Would you like to dance?”

You nodded and the two of you began to slow dance in the fountain. You don’t know how long you were in the fountain dancing; it felt like eternity paused to give you and your love all the time the universe had to give so you could enjoy this moment a little longer. The only sensations tying you to reality were Bucky’s warmth and the cool water moving at your feet as Bucky spun you around. You pulled away slightly and smiled at him. “We should make a wish,” you said.

Bucky looked at you with confusion. “A wish?”

You nodded, a small smile filling your face, “You know, toss some coins into the fountain and make a wish as we do.”

The laugh that left his lips made your heart flutter. “I don’t think this is a wishing-well. Although -” he paused to laugh again, “-I hardly think they meant for anyone to dance around in it either, so why not.” One of his hands left yours and reached into his pocket, looking for his wallet. He opened it and pulled out two pennies and handed one to you. “It looks like we only get one wish each tonight, so we’d better make it a good one.”

You stared down at the penny in your hand, wondering what wish could possibly be better than the night you were currently having with Bucky. The wish hit you suddenly, a smile breaking out on your face. You pressed your lips to the penny and wished with all your might, ‘I wish for us to have more moments like this together, from now through the rest of our days”. You opened your eyes and tossed the penny outward. Bucky’s coin was soon nestled safely at the bottom of the fountain with yours.

“What did you wish for?” he asked, pulling you back into his arms to continue dancing.

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” you teased, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as he spun you. “And let me tell you, I really want this wish to come true.”

Bucky chuckled, “Me too honey, me too.”

Your eyes came back into focus and a quiet sob left you. You stood in front of the fountain and cried into your hands, cursing all of the emotions you felt. That night had left you convinced that Bucky Barnes was the one. You had fallen asleep dreaming of dancing like that with him at your wedding. But now? Now all you wanted to do was scream. You wanted to scream at him, at yourself, and at the universe for being cruel enough to lead you back to this fountain without him at your side.

As the tears began to slow, a new kind of weight settled in your chest. He really could have been the one. He could have been everything you dreamed of and more, but there was nothing you could do to go back in time to change things. He decided to walk out that door and leave you with nothing more than an empty space in your heart, one to match the empty spaces he left in your apartment.

The questions the therapist had asked you started ringing through your ears as you continued to stare blankly at the fountain. What about the ‘after’? Maybe she had a point bringing it up today. You were still stuck in the ‘before’. Maybe it was finally time to start moving on. Missing items could be replaced; missing love could be given by someone else. All you had to do was make the decision to take your first steps into the ‘after’.

Your feet remained glued in place as you tried to make sense of it all.

You were confused as to where you were. Looking around, nothing seemed familiar. It wasn’t until a familiar silhouette caught your attention that you realized where you were. Bucky stood at the top of the mountain, staring down at the canyon below. Green trees and bushes lined the ground and the air was filled with the sound of birds chirping. The view was beautiful, but you couldn’t stop staring at Bucky. He looked the same, yet something felt different. Bucky seemed calmer than you had seen him in years, almost as if all of his stress had faded away. His body language was relaxed and he seemed to be in no rush to leave where he was.

Suddenly, the once green mountain top was now covered in a blanket of snow. Bucky was now wearing a thick winter coat and was strapping his feet onto a snowboard. He soon had his helmet and goggles on and began his descent down the mountain. It felt like you were flying along with him as you watched him expertly weave his way through the trees. The ease at which he moved confused you. Since when did Bucky know how to snowboard? He expressed wanting to try but never had while you were together. Confusion clouded your mind until Bucky reached the bottom of the mountain and came to a halt. He removed his helmet and a look of pure exhilaration filled his face. His excitement made your heart burst. As you reached out to try and touch him, the scene changed once again.

This time you were in the middle of the ocean. The vast expanse of blue was the only visible thing in sight other than Bucky. He was in full scuba gear, just floating there waiting. He was so still that if it weren't for the stream of bubbles that came with each exhale, you wouldn’t have been able to tell if he was breathing. Out of nowhere, a shape appeared in the distance. As it got closer, you felt your stomach drop. A large shark swam slowly towards Bucky. You rolled your eyes at the realization. Of course, he would go swimming with sharks with no safety cage. That idiot had no respect for your nerves or your -

You were woken up abruptly by the sound of your phone ringing. You groaned and cursed yourself for it somehow not being on silent. In your confused state, you reached out and slowly felt around on the top of your nightstand trying to find your phone. Once you found it, you tilted the screen so you could see who was calling. A beautiful picture of Natasha filled your screen and you sighed. Only Natasha could call randomly and happen to wake you up from a dream about Bucky. You pressed the answer button and begrudgingly brought the phone to your ear.

“Morning, you better have a good reason for waking me up,” you mumbled, letting out a yawn as you finished speaking.

“It’s past noon, you know. Most decent people are already up by now,” You could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke.

“Shut up. It’s still morning if I haven’t gotten out of bed yet. What do you want? I was having a nice dream.”

Your gruff response got a laugh from Natasha. “Well I was calling to see how your Tinder date went last night, but now I’m wondering if I should be asking what you were dreaming about that has you being this testy,” she teased.

You rubbed your eyes and groaned, “The dream was nothing special, I’m just mad you woke me up. The Tinder date was also nothing to write home about. The guy was awful. He started off super charming like they always do, but he got snappy with our waitress and then tried to get snappy with me when I called him out on it. I paid for my half of the bill and left as quickly as I could.”

“Ugh, gross. Men are actually the worst,” Natasha said. You hummed in agreement and she continued, “So are you ready for me to start setting you up, or are you going to keep giving these Tinder people a try?”

You sighed and paused for a moment to think. “Nat, I know you’re trying to help but the only people you have that you can set me up with are all SHIELD employees. I don’t see it ending well if I go down that path given my prior dating history.”

A scoff came through the phone. “He’s dating again too, so he has no right to be pissy about anything if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, he was also the one who ended it so he doubly has no right to be upset.”

You sat up straight as she spoke, your stomach dropping at the thought. “He’s dating again?” Your voice sounded small, smaller than it had in ages.

This time it was Natasha’s turn to pause before responding. “Yes. He’s taken a few of the receptionists here out on coffee dates, but nothing seems to be sticking. If Wilson is to be believed, he’s also on Tinder. I can’t imagine that’s working out very well for him either though.”

You felt nauseous, but you forced yourself to pause to recenter your thoughts. Of course he would be dating again. It’s been almost a year since you broke up. If you’re dating again, it only makes sense that he is as well. He deserves to be happy too. A heavy sigh left you, “Well, I hope he’s having better luck than I am.”

                                        ***

You were on the phone with Natasha for another twenty minutes before she had to go. It felt nice catching up with her, and the two of you made plans for another lunch get together later in the week. The conversation had quickly transitioned away from dating, but the fact Bucky was dating again lingered in the back of your mind for the entirety of the call.

You had been on Tinder for a while now, but somehow it never occurred to you that he might be too. How does a superhero just casually join the worst dating app in existence? Do people actually believe it’s him when they come across his profile? You couldn’t help but snort at the thought. Conversations on dating apps sucked enough as it is, but having to try and prove you’re who you say you are the way Bucky must have to certainly would make it that much less enjoyable.

Almost as if it knew you were thinking about it, a Tinder notification popped up on your lock screen. You opened up the app and saw two new messages from someone you had matched with. You typed out a response and then proceeded to scroll through the list of other potential matches. Most of the profiles you looked at were immediate no’s, but there were a few you swiped right on. It never ceased to amaze you how bad the men on this app were at smiling in pictures. Most of them had only a slight grin in one or two pictures. Any profile with a man properly smiling almost always got a swipe right. The only other type of picture that had that sort of response was for cute cats and dogs.

You continued to swipe, pausing occasionally to respond to a message. Out of nowhere, a familiar pair of blue eyes started staring up at you, causing you to nearly drop your phone in surprise. Of course the day you find out Bucky is on Tinder is the day you come across his profile. You quickly took a screenshot before swiping left and exiting out of the app. You sent the screenshot to Natasha. She responded almost immediately, Guess Wilson was telling the truth 🙄

You laughed at her response as you got out of bed, ready to finally start your day.

                                        ***

A sigh of relief left you as you collapsed on your couch after spending most of the afternoon running errands. It hadn’t been anything too bad, but that didn’t stop you from being thankful it was over. You laid there for a few minutes, just enjoying the stillness and the comfort of being on your couch. Once settled, you reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the glass of wine you had poured, and opened up your phone.

You opened up Snapchat and responded to the few snaps you had from Natasha and other friends before opening up Instagram. You mindlessly watched people’s stories, skipping through any of the ones that didn’t interest you. You paused however on Bucky’s.

He was standing next to a beautiful woman, each of them holding a painting in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Both of them had smiles that filled their faces. You stared at the picture, unsure of what you should be feeling. On one hand, it was nice seeing him so relaxed and happy. His posture reminded you eerily of how he looked in your dream. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but feel a touch of bitterness. You had practically begged him to go with you to a wine and paint night while you were together. He always used work as an excuse, either he was too tired from work or he had too much work left to do. You stared at the picture for a minute longer, wondering if they’d be going home together or parting ways for the night. You sighed, shaking your head at your own stupidity before continuing to scroll.

The wind blew violently around you as you struggled to make your way up the street. The weather turned unexpectedly as you were out on your run, so you rushed towards the closest coffee shop hoping to wait out the weather and avoid having to pay for a cab back home. The barista greeted you as you stepped inside and you offered her a smile.

“What can I get for you?” she asked.

You stared up at the menu, considering your options. “One large hazelnut latte and a cinnamon roll, please.”

She entered everything into the computer and you held out your card for her. Once your payment was processed, you turned to find a seat. The coffee shop was crowded, no doubt due to the bad weather driving people indoors. You looked around unsuccessfully and had almost resigned yourself to standing when a familiar voice called out.

You jumped at the sound. You turned around and made eye contact with Bucky Barnes for the first time since he walked out your front door. He was sitting there grinning ear to ear, almost as if he was genuinely happy to see you. The thought made your heart burst and it was impossible to hold back an equally big smile.

“Hey Bucky, how’s it going?”

“It’s going really well! Thanks for asking,” he paused and looked around before continuing, “Do you want to sit down? There’s not a lot of seating left and it’s just me here.” His hand gestured towards the empty seat across from him as he spoke.

You paused, unsure of if you should take it or continue to look elsewhere. You looked around the room for an empty seat but didn’t see any. Well, I guess we’re doing this. You stepped forward and mumbled out a thanks as you sat down.

“I’m kind of surprised to see you here if I’m honest. I didn’t think you came to this part of the city very often,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I generally don’t. The weather took a bit of a nasty turn while I was out on my run. I stepped in hoping that by the time I’m ready to leave it’ll have calmed down.”

Another smile broke out across his face as you spoke. “You’re running again? That’s awesome.” He sounded sincere as he spoke which made you smile back.

You nodded, but before you could respond the barista arrived with your coffee and cinnamon roll. You thanked her and took a long sip of your coffee, enjoying the warmth you felt as you did. An awkward silence filled the air as both of you tried to size the other up. You decided to break the silence.

“So, what’s new with you?”

                                        ***

An hour later, the two of you were still chatting away happily at the table. Once the conversation started, it didn’t stop. Everything felt like it had at the start of your relationship: easy, comfortable, and filled with excitement. The only pauses that occurred were when the barista refilled both of your coffees and brought Bucky a cinnamon roll, which he ordered after you spent five minutes going on about how incredible it was.

One of the things you had forgotten about being around Bucky was the warmth he exuded. Even on his worst days, he had the unwavering ability to make the room feel safe. You couldn’t ever quite pin down whether it had to do with his cologne being a comforting smell or if that’s just who he was. All you knew is that he always left you aching to lean into his chest and stay there until you absolutely couldn’t. Needless to say, today it left you feeling quite confused given everything that had happened between you.

The thoughts you had several months ago about getting closure were brought back to the forefront of your mind. How had things gotten so bad between you? How had both of you let this wonderful thing fall to pieces without even one final attempt at holding it together? Each little pause in the conversation as you transitioned between topics left you aching to ask all of the questions you had. Everything was so easy and so smooth between you today that you almost felt hope that things were salvageable between you. Maybe, just maybe, your fountain wish could still come true. As you were finally working up the courage to ask, his next sentence knocked all other thoughts out of your head.

“Did you hear that Steve and Sharon are finally engaged? Took that meathead long enough to ask.”

A gasp left your mouth, “No way! It’s about freaking time. Have they picked a date yet?”

He nodded. “First weekend in June. Sharon’s already picked their wedding colors too; sage green and rose gold. She explicitly said she picked rose gold because she wants to serve that rosé champagne you introduced her to. It’s still her favorite to this day.”

A bittersweet smile made its way onto your face as you thought about what he said. You had brought two bottles of that sparking rosé to a dinner Sharon hosted once, back when she and Steve were still circling around their feelings for each other. Sharon had barely taken her first sip before asking you for details on where you bought it. Ever since, Sharon always had a bottle in her fridge. Her friendship was the one you missed the most after the breakup. There had been a few half-hearted attempts from both of you to reach out, but each time her responses felt forced. Eventually you stopped trying.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful wedding. They deserve it,” you said. A chuckle left your lips as a new thought entered your head. “How on Earth is Steve going to choose between you and Sam for best man?”

Bucky joined in on your laughter, making your stomach do summersault after summersault. “Sam and I were actually wondering the same thing, but apparently they’ve decided to not do a bridal party. That makes things easy for me though. I get to kick back and enjoy the wedding knowing I have no responsibilities.”

The idea of Bucky having a blast at a wedding made you smile. The smile faded slightly as you realized this meant Bucky was now going to need a date for this wedding. Images of him in a fancy suit, twirling another woman around the way he had in the fountain with you flashed before your eyes. You felt your heart breaking all over again at the thought of how it could’ve been you if you hadn’t fucked it all up. How stupid could you have been thinking the two of you could talk things out after all this time. He’s probably already planning on asking that girl from the wine and paint night to go with him. She had appeared on his social media several times since that night and each time it made your chest ache a little more. Bucky’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“Hey, you okay?”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. You tried smiling but felt yourself falter and knew he noticed it too. “Yeah, just caught up in my thoughts.” You needed to get out of here and fast. Conveniently, your phone screen lit up and you were able to fake gasp at the time. “Oh my god, look how late it is. I really should get going.”

Bucky stared at you, unsure of how to respond to the sudden change in the atmosphere. You stood and rushed to collect your things.

“It was really nice seeing you again Bucky,” you said, offering him a half-smile as you take your first steps away from the table. He nodded, still looking unconvinced.

“It really was. Maybe we could do this again sometime?” He asked, trying his hardest to keep too much optimism from creeping into his voice.

Your eyes went wide with surprise, but you slowly nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

The same awkward silence from before filled the air, only this time neither of you seemed to know how to break it. You offered a small wave and made your way out the door, refusing to turn around and hug him despite how strongly your body was screaming at you to do so.

Bucky stood there staring after you until you were out of sight. A sigh left him after you rounded a corner and he began to collect his things.

                                        ***

Bucky had made his way back to the Avengers compound with relative ease, though his mind was still stuck back at the coffee shop with you. He had nearly choked on his coffee when he saw you walk in and hardly realized what he was doing when he called out to you. His mind had started screaming at him from the second he offered you a seat and apparently had yet to find a good enough reason to stop. Talking to you had been magical. He had forgotten how well the two of you meshed once a conversation was started. Nobody else had ever been able to keep up with his constant jumping between topics, not even Sam and Steve. You never made him feel bad for his quick transitions; you just understood and accepted that was the way his mind worked. Even after all that time, you took it all in stride.

An unexpected slam of a cabinet door caught his attention as he made his way through the communal kitchen. Sam was standing there, unloading dishes from the dishwasher. Bucky greeted the man with a gentle nod of the head as he pulled out one of the barstools to sit.

“That was a long coffee shop visit, you run into a cute girl there?” Sam teased, smirk playing across his face.

“I ran into her.”

Sam’s motions paused as he processed Bucky’s words. He looked up at his friend, who was conveniently not meeting his gaze, unsure of how to respond. “Her as in…?”

Bucky nodded and Sam let out a slow puff of air. “How are you feeling?” Sam asked cautiously.

It took a few minutes for Bucky to find the words. “You know Sammy, I actually don’t know. There are too many contradictory feelings in my head to pinpoint just one.” He finally looked up and met Sam’s eyes.

Sam motioned for him to continue.

“It was so nice to see her again and talk to her. It made me feel like things were back when we were both still head over heels in love with each other. She’s doing so well. She’s made huge progress mentally, she’s been given a promotion at work, she’s just out there living her life. It made me so happy to see...

“But the happier I got sitting there talking to her, the angrier I got with myself for being such an ass while I was with her. Who has a woman like that in their life and chooses to ignore her for work? What kind of jerk does that?” He paused for a moment, staring down at his feet before continuing.

“There was a moment where she looked at me and I looked at her and I just knew we were both wondering where the hell we went so wrong. She looked like she wanted to say something so badly, but decided against it and just...got up and left. I kinda deserved it though-” he let out a dark chuckle, “- it’s what I did to her after all.”

Sam had continued unloading the dishes as Bucky spoke, trying to keep things casual while he got everything off his chest. Once Sam knew Bucky was done, he paused and rested both hands on the counter to give his friend his full attention.

“Yeah, you were an ass who put work first. She was a great girl who loved you unconditionally. You let her down and yourself down too. But she also had her issues that contributed to what happened. It’s not all on you.” Sam shot a reassuring smile at Bucky.

Bucky nodded, knowing Sam was right. He couldn’t help but sigh and put his head in his hands though as more thoughts swirled around in his head. “I can’t help but think about how my actions probably worsened things for her though, you know? She was depressed for a while before I started acting that way, but I certainly didn’t help the situation. And just...I walked out on her. I walked out and didn’t even give her a proper goodbye.”

Sam stood still and nodded along. “You did, but what you’re forgetting is that you also did because it was also the best thing for you at the time. Both of you were unhappy with who the other was becoming at that time. Sometimes breaking up is the best route to take and they don’t always end with a clear-cut goodbye. You guys may have missed out on some closure, but if today went as well as you said it did, maybe you’ve got a different kind of closure coming down the pipe.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked up at his friend. “What do you mean?”

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed softly, “Man, what did your dumb ass do with girls before I came along?” He continued laughing for a moment before resuming, “What I’m getting at is that if today went as well as you think before the awkward ending, what if there’s a possibility of reconciling? Even if it’s not in a romantic sense, you could always try and be friends.”

For a moment, Bucky’s heart surged. Maybe Sam was right, maybe things could be fixed. He knew things were going well before you got up to leave, maybe he could try and make things right.

Then, the memory of how uneasy and uncomfortable you looked at the end of the conversation replayed in his mind. He felt his throat tighten and tears well up in his eyes. You didn’t want him back. He had his chance today and he blew it.

He shook his head slowly and whispered, “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Sammy.”

                                        ***

Sam eventually let the topic drop and Bucky was free to make his way back to his rooms. A familiar meow rang out from across the room and was soon followed by the sound of excited footsteps rushing towards him. Alpine rubbed himself against Bucky’s legs, meowing expectantly. He chuckled and crouched down to rub Alpine’s ears.

“Hey there buddy, did you miss me?”

Alpine meowed, almost as if to say yes. Bucky smiled and picked up the cat before standing up. He made his way to his bedroom and let Alpine jump down onto the bed once they were close enough. His boots were kicked off haphazardly at the foot of the bed before he climbed into bed. Alpine came and curled up under one of his arms, purring slightly as he did. A sigh left him as he mindlessly pet the cat and adjusted his position until he was comfortable.

Bucky’s thoughts turned back to you almost immediately. His heart ached as he began to relive the night he knew he had fallen in love with you. How he wished he could go back in time and experience it all over again.

“So, Stark is holding a fundraiser in about three weeks. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?” Bucky asked.

The smile on your face made his heart flutter. “Of course! What’s the dress code?” you asked. “I’m not sure if I have anything fancy enough to wear to a Stark gala.”

“It’s a 1920s theme. I’m not entirely sure what he means by that though, considering I was barely old enough to remember the first half of the decade.”

A teasing smile broke out across your face as he spoke. “So what you're telling me is the oldest man in the room somehow still isn’t old enough to remember the roaring twenties? Tsk tsk,” Your teasing tone made him laugh and lean over to kiss you.

“I’ll have you know young lady -” he paused to place kisses all over your face “- this is a completely unacceptable thing to say. Don’t you know you should respect your elders?” You continued to giggle as he continued to kiss you.

                                        ***

On the day of the gala, you were whisked away early in the day by Natasha. She claimed the whole day was needed to properly prepare, which left Bucky standing there rolling his eyes. But when you finally stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of the compound, Bucky felt his heart stop. You looked ethereal. The flapper style dress you were wearing fit you perfectly, your hair was elegantly framing your face, and your lips were painted the most perfect shade of red he had ever seen. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you the entire night.

By the end of the night, the champagne finally had gone to your head and you were desperate to leave. You grabbed his hand giggling, rushing as quickly as you could out of the reserved plaza. You stumbled a few times over the uneven cobblestones, so he kept a hand on your waist just in case.

“Bucky, I need to find somewhere to sit down. I need to take off my heels.” you giggled as you spoke, making his heart flutter for the millionth time that night. Without a word, he picked you up bridal style and slowly spun around as he searched for somewhere you could sit.

His eyes landed on a large fountain a short distance away and he began walking towards it. You settled comfortably into his arms, with one hand sneaking under his tux jacket and gripping gently onto his shirt just over his heart. Bucky wondered if you could tell it was about ready to beat out of his chest as he leaned slightly to set you down on the fountain’s edge. He had hardly sat down next to you before your heels were kicked off. It was amazing how much more relaxed you looked just from doing that.

He was so focused on how beautiful you looked he almost didn’t hear you giggle or realize what you were about to do. His jaw dropped slightly as you stood in front of him in the fountain, dress pulled up slightly as you waded in.

Bucky’s eyes never left you as you walked around, letting out the cutest laughs with each stream of water that you walked under. When you arrived back at where he was sitting and his whole world stopped as you bent forward to press your sweet lips against his. Your hands found their way to his hair as his made their way to your hips. With every ounce of his being, he wished his hands could make their home. They belonged there, allowing him to hold you so tightly against him it was almost impossible to tell where his body stopped and yours began.

It startled him when you pulled away suddenly, but the confusion didn’t last long as he was met with a handful of water and mischievous laughter. The splashing was relentless. You refused to stop despite him begging for you to quit it. He rushed to remove his shoes and socks so he could jump into the fountain with you. The excited squeal that left your mouth as you started rushing through the water trying to escape him made him grin. He was going to catch you and you knew it. That didn’t stop you from trying to delay the inevitable though. You tried to hide behind the fountain's centerpiece and to fake which direction you were going to run. When you decided to leave the safety of the centerpiece, he had you back in his arms facing him within seconds.

As he watched your face, the overwhelming urge to confess the extent of his feelings filled his chest. He loved you. He had known for weeks now, but staring at your beautiful face reaffirmed it so deeply in his soul that it felt like an integral part of who he was now. Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but the words failed him. Instead, he leaned forward and he channeled everything he had into a kiss. He wanted this to be the kind of kiss written about in fairytales; one that leaves audiences tearing up over and longing for. He hoped you felt everything he didn’t have the courage to say tonight and the small voice in his head hoped you felt the same.

He felt you smile into the kiss, making his heart swell. He pulled away gently after a moment, staying close enough to press kisses across your face. You had told him once how special you felt when he did it; now he couldn't stop doing it. He needed you to know how special you were to him, how loved you were in his arms. When he was satisfied, he rested his forehead against yours. An idea struck him and he smiled at you, “Would you like to dance?”

You nodded and he began to lead you in a slow dance throughout the fountain. He had never felt more grateful for the dancing experience he gained in his youth and that it was a skill he somehow kept throughout the years of brainwashing and torture. The feeling of your body against his calmed his mind and kept his focus from wandering back to the past. The only thing he wanted to think about right now was how beautiful you were and how lucky he was to have you.

After a few minutes of him leading you aimlessly around the fountain, you pulled away gently and looked up at him with a smile. “We should make a wish.”

His face twisted with confusion. “A wish?”

You smiled as you nodded at him, “You know, toss some coins into the fountain and make a wish as we do.”

Bucky laughed as he thought about how much like a fairytale this night was turning into. Apparently his kiss had done the trick. “I don’t think this is a wishing-well. Although -” he chuckled again, “-I hardly think they meant for anyone to dance around in it either, so why not.”

Reluctantly, he let go of your hand and fished around in his pocket until he found his wallet. He’d never felt more relieved to see pennies in his life as he pulled out the only two coins he had. He pressed one into your hand as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “It looks like we only get one wish each tonight, so we’d better make it a good one.”

He watched as you stared down at the penny, wondering what wish you were going to make. Your face was serious as you thought but broke out into the most beautiful smile. You stood there, coin pressed to your lips, before tossing it out into the fountain. You stared up at him expectantly, waiting for him to make his wish.

He didn’t need to stop and think about his wish. He knew what his wish was from the day he met you. Following your motions, he pressed the penny to his lips and wished, ‘I wish for a life filled with more wonderful nights like this, with this beautiful woman in my arms’. He tossed the coin in and his hand found its way back into yours.

Without a word, he pulled you back in close to him and resumed leading you around the fountain. After a few moments of peaceful silence, he spoke.

“What did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” you said, voice teasing as you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “And let me tell you, I really want this wish to come true.”

“Me too honey, me too.”

As the memory faded, Bucky couldn’t help but let the tears that had been building fall. That night had been so wonderful. You deserve someone who could give you nothing but nights like that, not the heartache he put you through. He closed his eyes and whispered to no one but himself, “You could’ve been the one. You should’ve been the one...”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

[adrianasunderworld]

🧡Dragon!RaihanxReader🧡

Drakes Keep

The townspeople live in fear of the dragon in the forest and have decided to make you the sacrifice to save them all. But perhaps the dragon isnt something to fear after all.

      This was how it ends. You thought to yourself as night descended. The only sound was the occasional breeze rustling the branches or the distant howl of a dog. You tried once again in vain to wriggle from the rope that kept you tied to the tree. Letting the back of your head hit the trunk with a thump, you bit your lip and finally allowed yourself to cry. This really was the end. 

       A dragons supper, that was your fate. The creature that called the abandoned castle home had returned, and the fear of what it could do had sent the townspeople into hysterics. Turning to the old ways once more to keep it appeased. Unfortunately for you, that had meant you were the one tossed to the beast. The old stories spoke of fair maidens and kings sons bravely sacrificing themselves for the better of others. But of course no one wanted to send their beloved children to death. But you? Orphaned and thieving,___? No one opposed that. And now you stood, hands bound to a tree as close to the Drakes Keep as they dared to bring you, waiting for death. 

     Night had finally fallen. The sound of crickets and the skittish steps of a rabbit your only company. Then as suddenly as it started, the forest was quiet and still as a grave. Even the breeze that blew the branches seemed to stop. Then the snap was heard. Then another. The crunch of leaves as if something heavy was being dragged across the ground. Then you saw it, a pair of teal blue eyes peeking out from between the trees. Tears continued to stream down your face as you locked gazes with the creature that would end. 

     "Just make it quick," you managed to choke out, throat raw from your sobbing. Not even sure if the beast could even understand you. "Please, be fast, that's all I ask."

     The dragon finally moved. It slowly stepped out of the darkness and you could see it in it's full view. It's dark midnight scales almost blended into the night, in stark contrast to the golden scales that went up its stomach and throat. It tilted its triangular head curiously as it examined its food. Your eyes snapped shut as it got closer and closer, until you felt the hot breath of your face. The wet sound of its jaws opening was heard, and you could not help but scream.

      Then the ropes went slack.

      "Relax." said a deep voice. "I wont do anything." 

     Opening your eyes, the dragon looked down at you, spitting out a piece of rope. "I...I… I dont understand." You shuddered out, wiping you tear stained face. "You arent going to eat me?"

     The dragon rolled its eyes. "Honestly, what's with these villagers and thinking I want to eat people? Of course not." 

     You removed the last bits of rope around your wrist, glancing at the dragon all the while. It wasn't going to kill you. What did it want? "So…" you began cautiously. "What now? 

       "What do you mean what now?"

       "If I'm not a meal, then what was the point of sacrifices? What is it that you want from the village."

       "Nothing." The dragon replied as if it should have been plain as day. "I never wanted any sacrifices ever. I untie them and let them go. I don't want anything from your village." 

       "But… but…" you stammered. "The missing livestock. And all those old stories about a dragon that burned the town centuries ago!"

      "My grandpa," the dragon replied. "Dont remember much about him, other than he was an old grouch. But that was a couple decades before I was even bored. as for livestock, sorry to say I was hungry. Large game have been scarce. Not my first choice, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Now," the dragon leaned down and sniffed at you, its warm breath blowing at your hair. "Who are you?"

       "-_" you stammered. 

      "And why, ___… did they decide to pick you to feed it the beast?"

      You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "No one wanted me." You answered honestly. "They were glad to have me gone."

        The dragon sniffed once more, like a hunting hound committing a scent to memory. There was the sound of thunder out in the distance. "Well, you're free of them now." Was his only reply. "Theres another town just south of here." He pointed a claw to his left. "I can only guess you wouldn't want to go back from where you came."

     You looked back between the direction the men who had tied up went,then the dragon, then to the direction he pointed. "So...so you'll let me go? Just like that?" 

     "Just like that." He assured.

It seemed too easy. The dragon letting you go and free to start a new life far far away.  The sound of thunder drew a little closer, and with it the wind returned to rustle the trees. You shivered. They had taken your cloak when you were arrested, and obviously did not bother to give it back when you had been left to die.

     The dragon seemed to take note of this, and tilted his head curiously. "What's the matter?"

      "Cold." You admitted. "Since I can leave, do you happen to know where I could sleep for the night?"

      The dragon eyed you once more and sniffed again as if looking for something of offense. When it seemed he did not find it, the dragon turned and nodded his head towards the direction he had come. "Follow me."

      "You know my name," you said as you followed the creature further into the forest. "What's yours?"

     "Raihan." He replied. "The Great Raihan."

    "Who calls you that?" You asked,trying hard not to snort.

    "Plenty of people." He said, twigs and leaves crunching under heavy feet. "I'll have you know, I have met many a knight and king that called me a great dragon."

     "What kings? Anyone I might have heard of?"

    "All sorts," he assured. "King Lance of Kanto. Queen Cynthia of Sinnoh. And most recently, your king Leon here in Galar."

     "So tell me then, great dragon Raihan, why are you out here in the back water forests outside of my nowhere village?"

    "Just as birds migrate, so do dragons." He explained. "We go from place to place, seeking spots of comfort to rest. Making a new home for ourselves or going to old ones."

    "I take it this is an old home then?"

   "Very old." He finally stopped and gestured to an ancient stone structure. With its half crumbled towers and vine covered parapets. "Very old indeed."

   "I've only ever heard of this place." You said in awe as you walked up the stone steps of the ancient castle. "My grandmother used to tell me about the dragons lair. She and all the other elders called it The Drakes Keep."

     "That's what you humans call it, yes." Raihan replied, pushing his large scaly body against the giant oak doors to open them. "But the true name of this place is Hammerlocke. Hammerlocke Castle."

     Walking into the grand entrance, Hammerlocke caslte was oddly well kept for not having a human inhabitant for centuries. Aside from the few cracks in the stone from age, the floor was clean of dirt and debris. There was even decorative tapestries that still adorned the walls. 

     Raihan pushed against the doors once more to shut them firmly, keeping the cold out. Then you realized something.

     "Um… not to sound rude or anything. But this doesn't look like a living space, and the doorways look far too small for you." 

     "Good observation. Sadly, castle life isn't very accommodating to this form."

     "Form?"

     Instead of elaborating, Raihan showed you what he had meant. In a flash of light you saw the large creature shrink down and take the form of a very tall and very handsome young man. He stretched out and let out a sigh. "Yes form." He grinned at your shocked expression. "There are many things about dragons you don't know."  

      It turned out dragons were very hospitable. Raihan had kept the fire in the sitting room going with ease, making warmer than you had ever known. He had a sorts of finery stashed away, including good coats and blankets of the softest materials. He had explained it was in a dragons to hoard things of great interest or value. Despite that he may not have a need fancy furs to keep him warm or nice bottles of wine, they were still soft to lay on and tasty to drink, and so he kept them. 

      "I'm still surprised dragons can take human form." You commented, swaddled up nicely in the furs Raihan had loaned you, stomach full of the food he had gathered the other day.

      "Oh yes, we are creatures of magic. Dragons,unicorns, the various breeds of fae." He took a sip from the golden goblet he poured the wine into. Unlike you he seemed to not be feeling the effects of it. "We were created by magic, neither human nor animal. So we are free to choose whichever form we please."

       "Do you appear human often?" 

       He shrugged. "I'd say it's fairly even. There is a time and a place for my true form, and I do enjoy visiting cities and what not, and that only really can be done like this." He gestured to his human form. 

       "I was always told dragons would sit in caves on piles of gold. Seeking princesses and young knights to drag away. Never that they like to be tourists."

       "Everyone is different." He said. "Truth be told, all those stories are rather old fashioned. Me? I like humans. Well...some of you." He flashed you a grin, seeming to imply you were one of the likeable ones. "I suppose I've always been a rather curious one. When I was a hatchling, I would sneak off to town and play with local children."

        "Now that does not surprise me," you said playfully while returning his grin. "You strike me as the sort who was a little scamp when they were young."

      "Oh trust me, you are not far off." He chuckled. "My parents could do nothing to keep me away. Everywhere we went, I sought out people, and when I was grown I went all over. I learned to read in many of your human tongues. Learned histories of every land I could. Befriended as many as I could."

      "That sounds amazing," you said wistfully. The life he described sounded like it could have only existed in a novel. You had never been able to venture out past the borders of the village. "I envy you, Raihan. I've never known such freedom." 

      "Well now you can." He replied. "All those townspeople think you won't return. You can start somewhere else."

      Looking down at your own golden cup, your reflection stared back in the red wine. Never go back...that certainly was not the problem. They would not miss you, and you would not miss them. But what kind of life could you have out there? "I doubt wherever I go will be much better."

      "And why is that?"

      "...Once a thieving urchin, always a thieving urchin." You said with all the resentment in you. That brand had followed you over half your life, and odds are it would follow you to the grave.

       "I take it that's why they tied you up to be sacrificed." Looking up, Raihans face portrayed no emotion. Part of you wondered if now he was disgusted knowing he let a thief in here, or maybe he pitied you. Honestly you weren't sure which would feel worse.

        You nodded. "When I was ten, my parents died. My grandmother long gone years before. My father's shop had caught fire, you see. And suddenly I was an orphan. No money, no home, no family. No one wanted to help. I had nothing, and so to the townspeople I was nothing.I did the only thing I could do: I stole to keep myself alive. I was arrested now and then, but I always got out. But the more I did it, the better I was at not getting caught. Well, until recently. And I think you know how that went." 

         "I wish I could say this is the first I've heard something like this, but it does seem like a sad reality to humans."  Raihans face then turned to concern as he reached out to put a hand in your shoulder. It wasn't until the tears were welling in your eyes a moment later did you realize it was because you were on the verge of crying. The events of today finally sinking in. Then he added. "But that doesn't mean you cant move on from it. Trust me, I've lived long enough to know what I'm talking about. Some of the best people I've known have lead similar beginnings to yours. I know it must feel awful now, but it'll get better. I promise."

      "You can't promise anything." You said, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "What am I going to do in this new town? All I know is how to steal. I'll just end up back where I was."

      "I mean, you could add some flare." He said jokingly. "I'd say you'd make a handsome jewel thief that steals hearts along the way." 

      You couldn't help but snort. "That is absolutely ridiculous." 

      "It's merely a suggestion." He grinned. "All I'm saying is why not have some fun with your self fulfilling prophecy?" 

      You paused for a moment. "...What was it like? When you first left to travel?"

     "A bit frightful." He admitted. "But exciting. Often times lonely."

     "Lonely?"

     Raihan nodded. "Yes, dragons, though we live long, are few and far between. Besides my family, it would be a few years before I saw another of my kind. Those stories you talked about of maidens in towers, I can assure you the reason was never malicious. Those drakes did it more for companionship than anything else."

      "You make it sound like you speak from experience."

      "Well…"

      "Raihan, you didn't!"

      "Oh I assure you ___," he smirked like an absolute cad and winked. "All princesses under my protection were there willingly.  And treated very well, if I do say so myself." Your face flushed at what he was implying, and Raihan bursted out laughing.

      After a moment you began to laugh as well. It had been so long since you could sit like this and be friendly with anyone. Raihan was so good natured, it felt like it would be a challenge not to like him. "Are you going to stay in this castle long?" You asked. Wondering if it would be forward to ask if you could visit him from time to time after parting ways.

      "For a few weeks," he said, taking a long drink from his goblet. "Then off to Wyndon."

      "Wyndon? As in the capital city Wyndon?"

       "The one and only. Off to visit a friend for the spring."

      Part of you felt a bit disappointed for him to be leaving so soon. "I hope you enjoy it, " you said,meaning it. "I admit, I'll miss your company."

     "Then dont miss me."

     "What?"

     "Come with me, I could use a travel companion."

     "What would I possibly do in Wyndon?" Even as you said it, your mind raced with the possibilities. You had only heard in passing of the great city where King Leon held court. Of its beautiful building and the wealth of opportunities to be found there.

      "What couldn't you do?" He replied. "The better question is what do you have to lose? Be my travel buddy, ___. See lands beyond this forest. Hear languages you've never heard. Rub elbows with royalty. If you don't like it I can drop you off in that village south of here, how does that sound? Unless of course you're considering being a heartbreaking jewel thief. In which case I wholeheartedly endorse your decision."

        You thought it over and over. Be a dragons companion. Go to the capital and regions beyond. Or go to some other backwater town and possibly live in the mud once more. It wasn't a very hard decision. "I'll take you up on that offer."

       Raihan smiled, a small fang poking at his bottom lip. He tapped his golden cup against yours. "Cheers. We ride in two weeks time."

#come vibe with a dragon #pokemon #raihan #gym leader raihan #swsh #raihan x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #dragons #dragon #fantasy #pokemon fanfiction

[untaemedqueen]

The Bird Cage

Mafia!Jimin x Reader

Chapter 14.

Warnings: (In This Chapter) Reader Views Uncomfortable Sexual Acts

 Eventual Smut, Blood, Guns, Knives, Smoking (Cigarettes)

Tag-List: @imaforeigner​, @q1st1na​, @gensneverland​, @autumnnflowers​, @toddsgirl27​, @yaniposts22​, @babyboytae1​, @dearlydreadful​, @vivpurple7, @kthfeed​,  @probably-trying-too-hard​, @si-deus-me-hanyu-senshu​, @bts-chub​

"The mansion is now open." Yoongi grins widely before lighting his cigarette as he leans back into his chair with his glass of whisky. 

"Don't go into any of the rooms without us. This place is about to get perverse." 

"The seven rings of Hell couldn't compare." Taehyung jokes aloud as Jimin leans over to you before looking at the upper balcony of the second floor. 

"Welcome to our world." He whispers as people flood into different rooms. 

"Heroin." He points to one room.

"Cocaine." 

"Cigars." 

"Sex." 

"Crack." 

"Gun worship." 

"Cock worship." You blanch as he points at all the different rooms. 

"Pussy worship." 

"My favorite." Namjoon says standing up and fixing his suit. Jimin chuckles in your ear before continuing on.

"Orgy." 

"Adultery." Namjoon heads off making Yoongi roll his eyes. 

"We won't see him until the nights end." 

"Third floor is for deals, which no one really does at balls. It's kind of against the unspoken code. Tonight is for fun, not for fights." Jimin wraps his arm around you pulling you close to his chest. 

"Want to visit any?" You shake your head fiercely with wide eyes making him laugh putting his head back. 

"You're a good girl." He kisses your cheek and puts his hand on your thigh. 

"Jimin!" You hear a woman call as she approaches the table.

He groans silently before putting a smile on his face. "Y/N. Jung Jiyoon." You nod to her as she looks you over with a sneer. 

"I heard you were here with your fiance. Wanted to see if it's true." Jimin nods before leaning back. 

"It is." She blatantly disregards your stare as she sizes Jimin up. Of course, he was handsome. Dripping with power and allure which makes you roll your eyes as she licks her lips. 

"Accompany me?" Jiyoon asks pointing upstairs. 

"I'm good." Jimin says rubbing your thigh soothingly. You begin to stiffen as Jiyoon leans over the table. No bra with nipples on display as her dress hangs lower. 

"Are you sure?" Jimin grips your thigh tighter as he feels your heart beat quicken out of anger. 

"No. Jiyoon." She pouts and you tilt your head. She goes to protest which you cut off quickly. 

"Are you fucking deaf?" You ask loudly, she looks over at you wide eyed and Jimin closes his eyes. There she goes, the lioness is out of her cage. And, all he can do is smile. You were his now, fully. If you could get angry at one simple advance, you were his and you were faithful to him. He chuckles quietly as he sips on his champagne. 

"Excuse me?" Jiyoon asks loudly, drawing attention from other guests as you stand up. 

"I said, are. You. Fucking. Deaf?" You lean over the table slamming your hands on the white clothed wood as you knock your champagne glass to the floor. 

"Kitten." Jimin's tone is full of glee as Jung Mina looks over at her sister. 

"Jiyoon! You don't want to do that!" She calls hurrying over. 

"Who the fuck are you to be talking to me like that!?" Jiyoon spits at you and you simply laugh as Jimin clasps your wrist. Your vision turns red as Jeongguk stands up quickly to defend you. 

"Baby, don't do anything stupid." You pull out of his grasp making him sigh as you round the table. 

"JIYOON!" Mina yells as you press yourself up against Jiyoon. The air was tense around you, the classical music stopping in full. The ball room staring at the sight of the two of you getting catty. 

"Why don't you go take a walk." You tell her, Mina finally reaches the both of you putting a hand on Jiyoon's shoulder. You stare at Jiyoon's small eyes, 

"Let's go." Mina pleads with her sister pulling at her shoulder. 

"You know before you Jimin used to take me at every ball, fuck me real good." Jimin rolls his eyes as Jiyoon informs you of their tryst. 

"Yes. Before me. And, now there is me so why don't you go before you get yourself hurt." You knock Namjoon's whisky glass onto the floor, the glass shrapnel spreading around as Jiyoon takes a step back. 

"She's a Park now. Don't try it!" Mina insists pulling Jiyoon. Jiyoon spits on your neck and you smile widely putting your head back. 

"Fine." You say before advancing at her, hands ready to grasp her neck. 

"She's under the protection of Lee Hyunah!" Jung Mina yells pulling Jiyoon away. Jimin smiles as he sips from his glass watching the sight. 

Jiyoon freezes before looking up at the second floor. You look up as well to see Lee Hyunah standing at the balcony. Her arms folded as she watched the sight before her. Her beige dress rippling as she stands up before clapping. A smirk presents on her face as Jimin looks up furrowing his eyebrows. 

"Very good show!" She calls out before putting a cigarette in between her lips as a man lights it for her. It wasn't Lee Oh, her husband. You've seen his picture before. 

"A lioness is in our midst." She calls out with a laugh as Mina begins to shrink in form. 

"Y/N! I'm so sorry it won't happen again!" Jung Mina whispers fiercely to you as she smacks Jiyoon upside the head. You hum in agreement before looking at Jiyoon. 

"You're right. It won't happen again." You kick some of the glass towards Jiyoon who begins to bow her head embarrassed. Jeongguk crouches down grabbing a cloth and pushing the glass away from your feet. 

"My, my!" Hyunah calls out as everyone is silent.

"You would all do well to steer clear of trouble this evening. Know your place." Hyunah says loudly before looking down at you and winking.

"Y/N, if you would." She calls to you as she walks into the orgy room. You look at Jimin who stands up fixing his suit jacket. 

"Just Y/N! Jimin." Hyunah calls out not looking back as Jimin looks up at the second floor as she disappears from sight.

"Kitten." Jimin mutters, spinning you towards him as he pulls out his handkerchief and wiping your neck of Jiyoon's spittle. 

"I'm sorry." You mumble as a waiter brings over a new glass of champagne. 

"Nothing to apologize for, you were protecting your own." Jimin leans in, his lips centimeters away from the shell of your ear. 

"You looked sexy giving that bitch what for." You snort before sipping your champagne. Jimin pulls away before narrowing his eyes in seriousness. 

"Don't act feeble, Hyunah doesn't like that." Yoongi tells you as he burns out his cigarette. 

"Be yourself, Mina already said you were protected. Just keep it that way." Taehyung mutters leaning across the table as Jimin fixes your dress. Jimin couldn't help but ogle you in front of his men, his lip tucking in between his teeth as you push your straight hair over your shoulder. You were too sexy, too tempting in this mansion. After the display of prowess you just showed he wanted nothing but to bend you over the table and fuck your brains out. 

"Park Y/N!" Someone calls from the second floor. You raise an eyebrow at the name before looking up. 

"Lee Hyunah will see you now." You look back at everyone as you step around your chair. 

"Park?" You ask confused as Jeongguk steps behind you.

"You're mine, Kitten. Must I remind you every second of the day?" 

"Maybe." Jimin chuckles before leaning in and giving you a gentle kiss. 

"Go, now. Before she gets impatient. Yoongi, Jeongguk." Yoongi smiles before standing and fixing his bow tie. "Come on, little one."

You step inside of the room, your eyes not knowing where to look as you watch naked guests fucking in every direction. Breasts and cocks out on display as you take Lee Hyunah into your sights. She sits in a chaise lounge smoking a cigarette calmly as she watches a man eat out a woman. The moans filling your ears make you shuffle in anxiousness. This is weird. 

"Uh." You mumble looking at Jeongguk who snorts in amusement. Hyunah looks up before smiling at you. 

"Come." She says patting the chaise lounge as she sits up. She eyes Yoongi behind you before smiling wider. 

"Yoongi." 

"Hyunah-ssi." He lights a cigarette looking her over before sniffling and standing beside you as you sit down next to her. 

"I love the human body. How beautiful it is to look at, how graceful people move." She tilts her head as she watches a man stuff his cock into a petite mouth. 

"How simple pleasure can be." You swallow at her weirdness before taking a sip of your champagne. 

"How easy it is to take someone's life and beauty away from them." She looks over at you before pointing at the man getting his dick sucked. 

"Strangle her." She tells the man, he does as told watching the woman scratch at his hand making small cuts appear on his tan skin. Blood beginning to trickle out. He begins to fuck her face roughly, his pre-cum and her spit coating her cheeks and her chin. 

"That is beautiful." Hyunah says to you as the girl's eyes roll back. 

"Fuck!" You hear the man curse through gritted teeth. 

"Yes, alright. Enough. Don't fucking kill her." Hyunah says with an eye roll before turning her body towards you. She caresses your cheek with her thumb as she pulls from her cigarette. With her this close you could really take her into your sights. She was beautiful, indeed. No help from plastic surgery. Her skin was taught and smooth but she was probably 45 to 50 years old. 

"I see promise in you, little lion." You clear your throat as she begins to smile. 

"You remind me of myself when I was younger. Full of anger and passion. Do you know what I do, Y/N?" 

"Yes, I do." Hyunah hums in amusement. 

"Smart girl. But, for the first time in a long time, I do not know what you do. You simply don't exist anywhere in the world anymore. Like you've been taken off the map." So she tried to get information on you, Namjoon probably made it all disappear. 

"And if I can't find anything on you then I find that very interesting. Because, I hire the best." You nod to her, she carries herself in such a way you couldn't seem to find words good enough to answer her. 

"That means that little Park Jimin loves you." She laughs loudly before looking at Yoongi.

"A weird sentence to say, wouldn't you agree?" Yoongi nods his head before inhaling from his cigarette. 

"Indeed. Weird." She hums to him before caressing your cheek again. 

"So pretty, so full of anger and hope. Who wouldn't fall in love with you so easily." 

"I mean, I've known him for a week so it might not be l-" She narrows her eyes at you and you close your mouth. 

"Are you saying I don't know what I'm talking about?" You shake your head to her before sipping your champagne. 

"Good. Because, I do." She pats your cheek delicately before leaning on the arm of the chaise lounge. 

"I've decided that I like you, Y/N. I heard stories from Mina and Mingyu. My little pets. So, I'm going to give you a chance to close a deal with me. We should get you started on your own project as a Park." Hyunah stands and you stand up confused. 

"Come with me." She says before walking past and grabbing Yoongi's balls making him cough loudly choking on his cigarette smoke as you follow her without a word.

Jimin stares at the orgy room door with a cigarette in his mouth, Taehyung talks but Jimin hasn't been listening. 

"Tae, shut the fuck up!" Jimin whines loudly as Hyunah leaves with you in tow. Taehyung does as told as Hyunah heads up to the third floor with you. She smiles brightly at you and you return the smile as one of the Im's opens up a third floor room. Jimin scoffs in amazement as he leans back into his chair as if he has had the wind knocked out of him. 

"Whoa." Taehyung mumbles as Jeongguk stays outside of the room as Yoongi shuts the door behind all of you. Jeongguk searches the floor before looking at Jimin with a wide smile. 

"Oh Kitten. You amaze me." He mumbles to himself before standing and pulling from his cigarette. 

Hyunah sits down behind the large desk, putting her feet up on the wood as she leans back in her chair. "I would say for us to do this deal alone but Yoongi knows me so well it's like he isn't even here. Isn't that right Yoongi?" He hums in agreement as he sits on a wooden chair by the door. 

"Put your knife on the table, Y/N." Hyunah pulls up her dress, pulling her own knife out of a garter before placing it on the desk. 

"This is called fair trade." She explains as you do the same. Your hands were getting sweaty. You've helped Jimin a few times in meetings but you've never been alone in a room with a mafia boss before and you would certainly never consider yourself one. Yoongi seems like he would be no help if she wanted to murder you, seeing as how he was sitting so far away. You eye her wearily as she smiles. 

"What do you like to do?" The question confuses you, what does she mean? Like to do? 

"Uh." You furrow your eyebrows and she chuckles. 

"Nothing? You don't have any vices? Cocaine? Killing people? Nothing?" You still for a second before shaking your head. 

"No." You tell her simply, she seems pleased. 

"Good. I don't like heroin but I sell it. It's good to keep yourself unattached from what you sell. Keeps you level headed." Hyunah calls Yoongi's name and he looks up quickly as he burns his cigarette out on the floor. 

"Two whiskys." He hums in agreement as you wipe your sweaty hands on your dress. 

"I have a few new ventures I would like to dip my toes into and I know Jimin has ways of acquiring what I would like to start up so I'm coming to you. Because, since he is SO in love with you, I'm sure you could make him move mountains." Yoongi hands you a whisky before handing Hyunah hers and she gathers the fact that you hold more weight to him than her. 

"I hear that a large shipment of guns went missing from Po Gunmin." Yoongi perks up at her announcement. "I have them." She says with a carefree laugh. 

"I will give you those back, if you make a deal with me." You feel lost. You don't know what you're making a deal for and when you do you have Namjoon give you research on the item and the person selling. You look between her and your whisky glass as she sighs. 

"Feeling confused, lion?" You sigh before nodding. There was no point in lying, you couldn't be brazen with her because it would just fizzle out and die. 

"Good. Sometimes we don't have all of the answers. And, that's okay. When I first started I didn't know a goddamn thing. Look at me now." She says pointing at her diamond necklace. 

"I'll give you a tip, little lion. Always barter even when you don't know what the fuck you're doing. So if I tell you four million, you say?" 

"Six." She smiles widely before nodding. 

"Exactly. I think you'll come up quick in our world." You sip from the whisky glass, the alcohol twirling and burning your esophagus as you swallow. 

"What are your thoughts on courtesans, little lion?" You raise an eyebrow at Hyunah. Prostitutes? You've never really thought about it. 

"Everyone makes money in their own way." You tell her and she nods with a smile.

"They do, don't they? You should run a courtesan business." You point at yourself confused.

"Yes. Lion, you. It doesn't have to be hookers on the street corner. It could be fancy. Like us." You tilt your head, how could you run such a business? 

"I will help you, of course. We will scout out the talent, with the help of Jimin. Before you, he has known many women who have dipped their toes into such a profession." You bawl up a fit at her words, he was yours now but he wasn't always and even still, it makes your blood run hot. Your nails dig into the skin of your palm and Hyunah eyes this carefully. 

"Of course, we won't put the women he has seen before to hire. I have drugs, I have guns and now I will have women. I told you this before, the body is beautiful. You would make good money, your own money. What do you say?" Hyunah pulls from her cigarette and you watch the white smoke curl upwards towards the ceiling. 

"How would I go about such a thing?" She points at you impressed before sipping her whisky and taking her legs off of the desk to lean forward. 

"You and I will be in charge. A 60-40 business. Sixty for you, fourty for me. A wedding present you could say. I will give you the guns, the 60 percent. All you have to do is run it." You click your teeth with uncertainty as you begin to feel more comfort in the amount of money. 

"Why are you helping me?" You ask furrowing your eyebrows as you hear Yoongi light a cigarette from behind you. 

"I have no daughters, a shame but true. I want a woman to carry on something worth while." 

"Jung Mina?" Hyunah laughs putting her head back.

"She couldn't sell you a bag of weed without fainting. No, not Mina. She's sweet but she holds no power. Now you, you Y/N, you can run the world if you want." You hum to her as she hands you her cigarette. 

"Do you smoke?" You have a few times, if you've drank quite a bit but you never had money to indulge in such habits. 

"Not really." 

"You will, when the stress gets bad enough." Yoongi snorts from behind you as he fixes his tie. 

"So what do you say, lion? Will you join me on a money making adventure?" You stare at her narrowed eyes. You want to prove yourself, want to make a name for yourself. When Kim Shin is done and over with you would still be Jimin's and still have nothing of your own besides him. You could make money, good money. Send it to your sister, help her out in her times of trouble. You would be able to protect the women that you put in your business. It doesn't seem unreasonable. 

"Sure. Let's go on an adventure." Hyunah smiles widely before spitting into her hand, her thumb demurely wiping at her lipsticked lips. You spit in your palm before stopping. 

"One more thing." She raises an eyebrow as she holds her hand out to you. 

"I want Kim Shin, he's mine to do with as I see fit." Hyunah hums clasping your hand. "I can't wait to hear this story, little lion. So be it, the Lee's have your back." Yoongi closes his eyes happily as he pulls from his cigarette. 

"Yoongi, go wait for me in the office next door." Hyunah tells him and you look over at him as he stands up winking at her. 

"Yes ma'am." He leaves both of you in the room as Hyunah pulls your hand harshly. Your breasts smacking into the desk as she leans in. 

"You say you're his fiance, but you aren't." You pale in complexion as she whispers fiercely before looking around. 

"My family. We see things. We hear things from the beyond. You have a red string of fate tied to both of you and you would do well to make sure it isn't frayed. Put his legacy in your belly. Then you keep him." 

"What?!" You ask trying to pull away from her.

"It will happen whether you like it or not. There is no one else for you but Park. He will keep you as his and for you to keep him wrapped up completely, you will have his baby in your belly by the months end." She stands up before letting your hand go. You wipe your hand on your dress before scoffing. 

"I get knocked up, that’s what you suggest?" 

"Little lion, I'm not suggesting anything. I'm telling you your certain future." She doesn't look back at you as you drop the cigarette in the ash tray on the desk. You stand mouth agape at her words.

"I'll be stopping by sometime next week to finalize papers." You sigh before thinking of the house.

"Hyunah!" You call to her quickly, she turns her head as she grasps the doorknob. 

"Do you know what maid the Jung's have gotten a hold of in our house?" She pauses for a second before shaking her head. 

"No, but I'll find out for you. Remember, little lion, the future is in your hands." She opens the door and she's gone. You slam back down into your seat as you sip the whisky in your glass. Why would she tell you to get pregnant? What does that have to do with anything? Jeongguk enters eyeing you carefully. 

"Are you okay? You were in here a while." You nod rubbing your forehead with your hand before sighing.

You step down to the ballroom floor before spotting Namjoon talking to a woman, a large dimpled grin present on his face as he rubs her sides. 

"Joon." You call to him and without a second glance he leaves her to be at your side. 

"I want everything on Lee Hyunah. Everything." He raises an eyebrow before nodding. 

"You got it." You look over at the table, Jimin smiling as he talks to a woman in front of him. She leans in, pressing her breasts against his arm as she whispers in his ear. You hear his, what usually is contagious, laughter and you roll your head on your shoulders. You can hear how hard your heels clack into the floor as you approach. Jimin takes notice of you calmly as the girl continues to try and worm her way underneath his Italian suit. You clear your throat and she looks up nervously. 

"Who're you?" You ask folding your arms, Jimin begins to smile crescent moons for eyes as he chuckles. 

"I told you, my fiance wouldn't be happy." You raise your eyebrow at her.

"I asked you a question." Your voice is sharp and Jimin sits up straighter. 

"You should answer her before she gets angry." 

"B-Bang Gija." You hum before grabbing a champagne glass off a waiters tray as he whizzes past. She looks up at you with panic stricken eyes. 

"Get going. Before I get angry." She scrambles to leave, standing up in a flurry before disappearing out onto the dance floor. Jimin opens up his arms for a hug and you smirk at his cuteness. 

"I missed you, baby." You waltz around the table before giving him a sweet kiss. He groans into the kiss, his thumb caressing your cheek as he pulls you closer to him. 

"What'd she want?" He whispers, pulling back and rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip. 

"A business deal." He pulls back impressed. 

"Without me?" 

"You aren't the only Park that can make money." His hand stills on your cheek before beginning to smile like the Cheshire cat. 

"What're you saying? You're marrying me?" He asks confused, the way he tilts his head has you wanting to mewl at his cuteness. 

"Yes." You say simply making him pick you up and spin you in a circle. 

"Fuck, you're always surprising me, Kitten!" He kisses you deeply, his tongue peaking out to caress your bottom lip as he wraps his arms around your waist. You have nothing else to go back to, you can make a new start and Jimin is this new start. He pulls away before sitting down and pulling you on to his lap. 

"Let's get this night over with so we can go home and I'll show you how much I appreciate this news." He whispers in your ear making you giggle. That you couldn't wait for. 

"Boss, incoming." You hear from Min as he walks past the table. You both look up as Kim Shin approaches, his blind blue eye sending chills down your spine as the both of you sit up straighter. Kim Shin smiles widely at you before bowing his head. "May I have this dance?"

#the bird cage #park jimin #mafia!jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x you #mafia!au #mafia!bts #hoseok #yoongi #jeongguk #namjoon #taehyung #jimin #jungkook #seokjin #jin #hobi #bts story #bts series #bts smut #bts imagine

[pettyprocrastination]

Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Reader

Chapter Two

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Profanity, slight sexual themes, description of the beginning of an anxiety attack, Max puts his hands on you for a hot second but then you rip him a new one lmao. 

Chapter Summary: The Lord’s have a discussion while Max work’s from home and you meet the other half of D.C’s richest power-couple that you now work for. 

Tag List: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ @captainsamwlsn​ @zeldasayer​ @readsalot73​

Chapters: 1/2

The Lord manor was silent, as it always was. Even when Max and Valerie were home, it was still lifeless. 

Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked into her bedroom, which was larger than most living rooms. The steady click-clack echoed throughout  the grandiose household and bounced right back to the source. Nothing else was heard; no laughter, no pitter-patter by the feet of excited pets or even children to see mommy come home. Not even the eagerly awaiting footsteps of her husband to welcome her back, take her bags, and ask her how her day went. 

Maxwell was never the type for such idiosyncrasies, and never would be. 

Cold, empty, fake.

A dollhouse meant for Barbie and Ken was more authentic. 

I guess that made them no more real than the toys themselves.

Well, that is if Barbie and Ken secretly hated each other and slept with other people on the side all throughout their relationship. Valerie didn’t know much about dolls. 

She set the plastic bag onto her bed and began unbuttoning her blouse, letting it fall off her shoulders and onto the ground before shimmying out of her jeans. 

Valerie Lord wearing something that isn’t designer? She picked up the sundress that had first caught her eye, pressing it to her chest and marveling at just how soft it felt. That’ll be the fucking day. 

She slid it on with ease, she couldn’t say that for half of her wardrobe. 

Dresses were made to hug her figure and accentuate her curves. Constricting, suffocating, so tight she could barely breathe and the flashing of cameras so bright, nothing was there to ground here, nobody was.  She couldn’t see it all was too-

Soft. Her fingers ran along the fabric, hips swaying slightly as she watched the long skirt flow with her movements. It hugged her chest like it was made just for her, but it didn’t suffocate her - not a choking grip on her lungs, but a gentle hand on her chest. Her hands drifted down to the pockets, where she slid them in and remembered the grin you had on your face when you told her. 

“It’s sort of my signature.” You boasted, chest puffed out like you just won a gold medal. Valerie couldn’t help but notice the shirt you had been wearing, a button up with covered in different colored squares, so tacky and loud she could feel the migraine building just from looking at you. 

She also couldn’t help but notice just how little buttons were actually used to close it. A wide expanse of your chest on display, smooth skin practically on show for her before stopping just above your belly button, the curves of your chest peeking through enough for her to wonder if you slipped, would you be completely exposed?

Valerie shook herself free from the thoughts of the ridiculous seamstress, with her ridiculous tattoos and that ridiculous nickname. ‘Stitches,’ give me fucking break. She scoffed, but then turned around to admire the dress from the back. You do good work though…

The idea was set in her mind, and Valerie Lord was as stubborn as they come. There was no turning back. Won’t be too bad, she reasoned with herself. I could count it as my charity work for the month. 

~

Maxwell sat in his office, nursing a glass of scotch while going over a contract sent over to him late that afternoon. He could’ve easily stayed late at work, it wouldn’t be the first time. Valerie wouldn’t have worried, or cared at all really. She slept in a separate bed, in a separate room on the other side of the house. 

She wasn’t his reason for coming home early. Christ, she wasn’t the reason he did anything. 

The true culprit was his secretary. 

Delilah Harris was a pretty young thing who must've thought that sleeping with the big man would get her a better job, better pay, or maybe a side job as his sugar baby. What she wanted exactly he wasn't too sure about, but if he had to deal with the pathetic woman cuddling up to him at his own company as if they were lovers moonlighting a secret affair? Oh, he was going to lose his shit. 

So he found himself  sitting at the mahogany desk in his office, glasses pushed up on his nose. Finally able to get work done without being distracted by some incompetent bimbo batting her eyes at him.

The door to his office creaked open. He didn’t bother looking up.

Spoke too goddamn soon. 

“I've commissioned a seamstress to make me a dress for the gala in September.” Valerie’s voice was always so matter of fact. So condescending, as if her flimsy shrink degree suddenly meant she was smarter than him, the one who actually made money. 

“I’ll be meeting with her tomorrow.”

“That sounds positively riveting, dear.” Max drawled, turning a page to read more of the agreements. He was only a quarter through the damn thing and he already knew half of these deals weren’t going to be made unless he was six feet fucking under. Somebody was definitely getting fired tomorrow.

“I’ll be a bit tied up at work. You know, since I actually have a job and all. But you go ahead and make sure to tell the sewing mice I said hello, Cinderelly.”

He heard his wife huff and put her foot down, Max didn't have to see her to know she had her arms crossed and a frown on her painted lips. Like she always did when she didn’t get her way, a petulant child with an endless temper tantrum. 

“She’ll be making a suit for you as well, darling.”

The glasses slipped down his nose as his head shot up. “Excuse me? If you didn’t notice I’m a little busy running-” He stopped in his rant to take in the flowing white dress she wore that came all the way down to her shins. “Well that’s a bit too ‘Little House on the Prairie’, don’t you think?”

She uncrossed her arms, hands coming down to the skirt to bunch it around in her fists and swish it side to side. “Well I like it, and I’ll be damned if I don’t do something just because you don’t like it.”

Max snorted and set his glasses on the table. “Well that much is true, given how much you know I loathe that laughable model, yet you still keep him around.” He feigned thought and looked off in the corner. “What’s his name? Randy?”

“Robert.” She corrected. “And how’s the secretary, still drooling at your feet like the little lap dog she is?”

“At least she gets on my lap.” His eyes roamed her figure in the dress with a hunger she hadn’t seen in God knows how long. “What are you wearing under that?”

Valerie grinned, her hands slowly slid up her legs, dragging the dress along with them. “Well wouldn’t you like to know?”

Her husband sighed, head falling into his hand but never letting his eyes leave her form. “You know I hate games Valerie.” His tone was even as he spoke but she could see the tension in his shoulders like a steel wire ready to snap.

“Well that’s not true at all.” The dress passed her knees and slid up the silky skin of her thighs. “I know for a fact that you love games.”

Her hands released the skirt, letting it fall back around her legs.

“But only when you win.” She turned on her heel, fabric swishing around her as she did. “Wednesday afternoon, Maxwell, don’t be late!” Valerie slammed his office door shut behind her, leaving her husband alone once more.

Maxwell sighed, long and loud, before he pushed his glasses upright on his face and returned his attention to the stack of papers in front of him. For the rest of the night he did all he could to push away the phantom image in his mind of his wife’s supple thighs gripped in his hands. 

~~

Max looked to the building his driver parked outside of with great disdain.

“Check again.”

The driver, Daniel, sighed and looked through the mirror to meet his employer’s eyes. “I have sir, three times already. This is the address that Mrs.Lord gave to me.”

The shop was tiny, the name “A Stitch In Time.” on a sign above the door. A series of little figurines, mugs, and warrior knic-knacks lined the multiple window sills. It was quaint, homey, and the type of place many feel like a friend rather than a customer. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Max stomped out of the car, shutting the door with so much vigor it shook slightly. 

“Wait here for me.”

“Of course sir.”

His first step onto the asphalt, was directly into a puddle of muddy water that splashed back against the end of his trousers. Even through the window he could hear Daniel cough to hide his laughter. 

Max peered through the windows, looking for a sight of anybody within the store before grabbing the door using only two fingers and walking inside. 

A small bell jingled against the door as his entrance, and a voice called out from the back of the store.

“I’ll be out in one moment!” A woman shouted, Max took the chance to look at the racks of clothing around him, picking up one particularly horrendous skirt with the tips of his pointer and forefinger with a frown. 

This was the place that Val chose? Maybe he should sign her up for rehab, because she’s got to be smoking something to think-

“Welcome to a Stitch in- oh shit.”

Max turned his head to see you standing at the back door, mouth slightly agape. He took in your cheap jeans, your gold chain resting against your chest, a large expanse of skin left sinful on display due to the especially gaudy shirt you wore only being buttoned by the button three. Untamed curls framed your face like a halo as you stand shocked by the man before you.

“Son of a bitch.” You mumbled, your eyes raked over his blonde hair all the way to his designer shoes. “That lady was actually for real.”

“That Lady, being my wife I presume?” 

Max's voice, though annoyed, was rich and smooth and shook you out of your stupor.

“That she is. She came in on Monday and briefly spoke about..a commission?”

“Yes.” He continued to walk around the store, looking at everything with a sour face, even you. “Why she did I’m not so sure.”

“Excuse me?”

Five minutes in and Max Lord was already proving to be worse than his wife.

“Is this place up to health code?”

“Excuse me?”

Five minutes in and it was confirmed that Max lord was definitely worse than his wife.

He waved a dismissive hand in the air before he stopped browsing judging your store. 

“But what baby wants, baby gets.” He drew a hand to his heart in what could only be described as a sarcastic display of fake love.“Happy wife happy life and all that bullshit, right?”

You knew from the get-go that Maxwell Lord the Fourth was a load of shit. The moment you saw his dazzling smile in his commercials you knew that in real life he was probably like every other rich person in the world. Entitled, classist, and so judgmental they’d reject a glass of water in the Sahara if they knew it was tap.

You weren’t sure if it was satisfying or disheartening to know you were right. 

Nonetheless, a job is a job and you’d having to be fucking insane to reject a giant payout like the Lord’s would no doubt offer. 

But that didn’t mean you had to be happy about it.

“Timeline?”

Max blinked. Usually people who thank him for the oh so amazing chance to work for him, but you stood your ground. He tilted his head to the side, looking at you with  a new inkling of respect. 

“Four months.”

“Event?”

“The museum of Natural History is throwing a gala for it’s donors.” He adjusted his cuffs as he spoke to you, only looking at you in brief glances which pissed you off even more. “I’m the top one.”

You scoffed under your breath. “Of course you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said how charitable of you.”

The animosity of his glare dissolved into a smirk. “Of course.”

You stuffed your hands into our pockets so he wouldn’t see how tightly they were balled up into fists. 

Think of the money, dumbass. You reminded yourself. Stomach the rich people bullshit for a little bit for a huge payout. You've got this.

“I’ll be able to do it, but it may be a time crunch.” His face fell once more. 

“This is a job, honey.” He spoke slowly and moved his hands with each word as if you didn't understand what he was saying. 

“I expect it to be done to the best of your abilities, whatever pisspoor standard that may be.”

Well, you thought before you marched forward until you were nearly nose to nose with the billionaire. You lasted this long, that’s reward enough. 

“Listen here you glorified trust fund baby, I work hard and I work well. But keep in mind I have a multitude of people coming through that door every damn day that I also do work for. So don’t think that just because you and your trophy wife have matching silver spoons wedged up your-”

Max’s left hand lashed out and clamped over your mouth, his fingers digging into the plush skin of your cheeks. If you weren’t so fucking pissed that this mother fucker had the audacity to put his hand on you like that, you may have taken a moment to marvel at just how soft they felt against your skin. 

You reared back, blood roaring in your ears before you finally found your voice. “You’ve got to be out of your goddamn mind if you think you can put your hands on me like that and not expect me to shove my foot up your-”

While you yelled, Max fished a slip of paper out of the pocket of his coat and handed it to you with a condescending smile. “Will that suffice?”

His manner, so calm and collective while you were about to wring his neck made you pause. 

“Will what suffice?”

He sighed, wiggling the slip in the air. “This.”

You set your hands on your hips and stare at him in defiance. “Oh? What is it? A certificate for being the most pompous-”

“Just take a fucking look and you’ll see!”

While at first his sudden booming voice caused you to jump. You couldn’t help it, but your chest swelled with pride at seeing the great Maxwell Lord lose his temper at you. To know that you could get under the skin of the most powerful man in D.C. was almost enough payment in itself. Keyword being almost.

You snatched the paper from his hands, anger melting into shock when you realized it was, in fact, a written check and-

That’s a lot of zeroes. 

Max picked some imaginary lint off his shoulder before he took in your gobsmacked form with a satisfied smile. “I trust that will be enough to cover the consultation fee?”

Christ on a cracker, this was just for the consultation fee?

Stand your ground, girl. You reminded yourself. Don’t give him power over you. Give this corporate ken doll a piece of your mind.

You cleared your throat as you tucked the check worth more than your car into your backpocket and crossed your arms. With squared shoulders and your head held high you spoke in the most impassive and neutral tone you could collect from yourself. 

“It’ll do.”

Maxwell grinned like he was the cat and you the canary. You wondered what that made his wife. The sadistic pet owner most likely.

“Marvelous.” He all but purred. “Valerie will be in tomorrow to talk design with you. Until we meet again, Stitches.”

With a quick pivot on his heel, your richest client walked out of your store and into the car waiting for him outside. 

You felt a bit of your pride return when you watched him step into the dirty puddle of gutter water for a second time that day.

#maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #valerie lord #valerie lord x reader #maxwell lord x valerie lord x reader #ww1984 #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #Stitches

[moth-and-raven]

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I’m not sure when we made it to bed, but I wake up the next morning to Julian’s breath on my neck. He has me tucked into the curve of his body, holding me close with one of his hands resting on the flesh of my belly.

I don’t want to disturb him, but blinks himself awake almost as soon as I shift.

“Good morning, darling,” he says softly, his voice still rough with sleep.

I roll over in his arms and kiss him; his unshaven cheek bristles against my lips. “Good morning,” I echo. “Um, how did we get here?”

Julian chuckles. “I’m glad you don’t remember. I woke up, oh, a good few hours after dinner and it broke my heart to see you still sitting on the floor, asleep against the chair. Like you didn’t want to let me go, even for a moment.”

I kiss him again, more soundly. “I didn’t. I don’t.”

He pulls his hand from between us to cup my cheek. “What a lucky man I am, to have someone like you.”

After all this, everything that’s happened, it still feels impossible. Every event that’s lined up just so, every ounce of serendipity, has led us to each other. And now we’ve conquered the biggest barrier to being together. Julian is a free man. The other details seem inconsequential.

Before I can tell him that, I startle at a knock on the door, followed by Portia’s teasing voice from behind the solid oak.

“Wake up, lovebirds!” she calls. “Or if you’re already awake, stop doing whatever you’re doing so I don’t scar myself forever by coming in!”

She doesn’t wait to open the door, though, and only laughs to see us scramble out of the bed.

“Feeling better today, Ilya?” she asks, looking him over.

“Much. Amazing what a solid meal and some sleep can do.”

Portia rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure I’ve been telling you that for years, and Mazelinka years before that. And yet you always seem to forget it.”

“Nonsense!” he says indignantly. “I tell my patients all the time—”

“For you, dumbass.”

“Ah… right.”

She laughs and shakes her head. Someday, maybe, we’ll get through to him that he deserves the same kind of care he shows to others.

“Anyway, you’ll be happy to know that Asra’s waiting for you,” Portia says to me. “We didn’t even have to go out looking; he was at the palace gates this morning. Did you talk to him somehow?”

I blink, stunned. I didn’t reach him, or even try. But he’s always been mysterious like that, showing up exactly when he’s needed. “No, I haven’t talked to him since before I came up here, the first time.”

My own words sink like stones in my stomach. He doesn’t know about any of this, all that’s happened in the handful of days since he slipped out the back door of the shop.

Julian interjects, coughing weakly. “Aha. Well, then. This will be, erm, some sort of reunion, won’t it?” He’s pale and fidgety, brushing his hair back from his forehead and letting the auburn curls fall over his eyes again and again. “Can’t say I’m overly excited for it.”

That makes sense. It’s been years since they last saw each other, and those weren’t the best of times. And apparently Julian stole from him on his way out, too. But it’ll be okay. I tell him so as I take his hand.

Even through his reluctance, he smiles at me. It lights up his eyes, both gray and red, and I can’t help but smile with him.

Portia lets the feeling hang for a moment, then pipes up again. “Nadia’s with him already. They’re in the big salon, with breakfast. C’mon!”

She leads the way down the stately palace halls, chatting with us. Nadia wants to announce Julian’s innocence at the start of the Masquerade, she says. It’s its own form of justice served, I suppose, clearing his name rather than solving the mystery of the Count’s murder. I’m certainly not complaining.

As we reach the door of the salon, Julian stops, letting Portia go on ahead. His palms have only gotten slicker the closer we get. He looks down at me, biting his lip, and sighs heavily.

“Erm, darling, I have to, ah. Asra. He and I had an, erm… He might not be overly pleased to see me.”

“What?” I’ve never known Asra to be on anyone’s bad side. “How come?”

“We, ah, didn’t part on the best of terms. The mark, the curse, it’s… well, it’s my fault. I—”

He doesn’t finish the thought before Portia turns back, exasperated, and grabs the loose fabric of his shirt to push him into the room. I have no choice but to follow, mind astir with prickles of unease. She shuts the door behind me.

This salon is brighter, much more colorful than Nadia’s personal suite. Rugs and curtains add splashes of orange and purple and red, met with sprays of blue forget-me-nots and tall white lilies nestled in glass vases. Nadia sits resplendent in a shimmering golden robe, her hair flowing like water over her shoulders. She’s laughing as we walk in, hiding it behind her hand. Opposite her, Asra sits cross-legged on an ottoman with Faust curled around his forearm to drink tea from his cup.

“Reyja!” Asra says, beaming at me. “You did a little more than take care of yourself, didn’t you?”

I smile back. Despite our differences, Asra is my oldest friend. He knows me, at least as well as I let him, and it’s nice to see him again. “How was your trip?”

He waves the question away. “Not that exciting. Nothing like what you’ve done. Nadia’s filled me in on everything.” His lilac eyes darken, and for the first time he shifts his attention to Julian. “And everyone.”

The room falls silent, chill in the morning sun.

“Erm, hello, Asra.”

“Julian.”

“Aha, long time no see?”

“Could’ve been longer.”

“Ah.” Julian scrambles for something to say. “H-how’ve you been?”

Asra takes a deep breath and drops his smouldering gaze. Immediately, the sunlight slanting through the windows feels warm again. “You’re right,” he offers. “It has been a long time. And it’s felt like a long time, too.”

That isn’t really an answer. But with Nadia here, and even with me, it’s probably the best Julian’s going to get. Something happened between the two of them; even if Julian hadn’t said as much, it hangs in the air like smoke. And now is not the time to discuss it.

“Good morning to you both,” Nadia says, cutting through the awkward silence. “I trust you slept soundly, for this morning brings new challenges.”

We both nod, eager to move on.

“Excellent. Indeed, as Asra said, I have shared with him all you told me. I must admit I was surprised to hear that he, too, was at the palace around the same time.”

Asra shrugs. “I had to help.”

Nadia smiles at him. “I’m sure your talents were put to good use. If nothing else, Reyja’s training proves you to be a strong and skillful magician.”

“Ha, thanks.”

“But I’m afraid I have reached the end of my knowledge,” she continues. “Though I understand there is more to the story.”

Julian clears his throat and gives my hand one last reassuring squeeze before dropping it and stepping into the middle of the room. "Yes. While sifting through everything else, Reyja and I came across some more pieces of the puzzle. Now, erm, I don't want to step on any toes, but—"

Nadia interrupts with another gentle smile. "You have my permission to speak freely, Doctor."

He lets out a noisy breath. "Thank you, Countess. Erm, Nadia. But you might not want to hear it."

"Perhaps not. But it must be said nevertheless."

"You aren't wrong." Julian squares his shoulders and turns away, pacing across the ornate damask rug. He stops abruptly in front of the windows and wheels around, lip raised in a fierce snarl. "There’s a snake in your midst," he declares.

Asra snorts. "Who, Faust?"

"No! Quaestor Valdemar. It’s very possible that they’re the one responsible for Lucio’s — I’m sorry, Count Lucio’s — murder,” he says. “I admit that this evidence isn’t the most solid, and what I would give to have the answers! But, erm, bear with me. We, Reyja and I, we spoke to an old friend of mine, who was here back then as well. Maybe you remember him, Asra? Skylar Trevelyan?”

Asra shrugs again, noncommittal.

“Ah. Well, at any rate, he, erm, reminded me that it was Valdemar who infected me with the Plague, and Valdemar who had been—” He stops, stuttering. “You both know all this, don’t you?”

“I would like to hear it from you, Doctor,” Nadia says kindly.

He flashes a grateful smile. “Skylar also reminded me that I, ah, wasn’t at my best back then. Especially towards the end. I suppose, to put it plainly, I was losing my mind. Those rumors, at least, were somewhat true.” He laughs harshly. “But I’ll flatter myself by saying that that was mostly the Plague’s doing. The Plague, and magic.”

Asra and Nadia respond together, with varying degrees of credulity. “Magic?”

“Magic,” Julian confirms. “Dreams, and tarot, and this.”

He drops to one knee and, before anyone can stop him, slides a thin blade from his boot and slashes it across his forearm. I barely stifle a scream as I scramble out of my chair to his side. I know he’ll be fine, but—

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Asra says, only mildly alarmed. Faust has repositioned herself around his shoulders and flicks her tongue as if to punctuate his remark.

Julian laughs and holds out his bleeding arm. As we watch, the cut shrinks, sealing itself in the light of the mark on his throat. Within seconds it’s gone, leaving behind only ribbons of blood smeared across his pale skin. “Nothing’s wrong with me, Asra.”

“No more than usual, I guess.”

“It certainly comes in handy.”

Asra rolls his eyes. “I’m sure. Trust you to make a bargain-mark kinky.”

“A what?”

Asra sighs and refolds his legs. “That sigil. It’s the mark of a deal struck. Someone gave it to you…” He closes his eyes and sends a tendril of his own magic out, washing over Julian in search of answers. He finds them quickly. ��The Hanged Man? How did you—? Oh. I get it.”

Julian pulls his sleeve down again and busies himself tucking it back into his glove, avoiding Asra’s accusing gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No. You shouldn’t have.”

“But, erm. I did.”

Asra stares daggers into Julian. “No shit,” he spits after a moment. “Okay, Nadia, here’s what he’s telling us, since he won’t just say it: he used an ancient ritual to contact an ageless being from a magical realm, and while they were chatting, he gave him something important enough to merit superhuman abilities in return. And now, unless I’m pulling this out of my ass, the good doctor wants whatever he gave him back.”

“What?” Julian snaps his head up. “I never said—”

“You want to talk to the Hanged Man again, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“He’s not going to give away anything for free,” Asra says. “If you want answers, it’ll cost you.”

“Oh. I see.”

“You really don’t.”

All four of us sit quietly for what feels like an eternity. Eventually, Nadia picks up her tea cup and breaks the silence. “This mark is what allowed you to heal so quickly from the torture instigated by Quaestor Valdemar,” she says to Julian.

It isn’t a question, but he answers anyway. “Yes, it is. I can share its power, too.”

He glances at me and smiles. Nadia follows his gaze, understanding.

“What do you hope to learn from this Hanged Man?” she asks.

“What Valdemar was planning, three years ago. Why they’re still after it now. Where they’ve gone, maybe. And why there’s still evidence of the Plague leaking through the palace, putting the people I care about in danger.” His mismatched eyes linger on my face, tracing my features. He can’t resist reaching for me, trailing a finger along my cheekbone.

“Do you have a plan?”

He drops his hand, and with it his smile. “I do,” he says quietly.

I haven’t said a word since we walked in, but I can’t let him go through with this. “It isn’t possible,” I say, more to him than Nadia.

“Oh?” Nadia cocks her head.

Before I can elaborate, Asra laughs raucously and falls back against the sofa. “Let me guess,” he says, words molten with contempt. “Is there some martyrdom involved?”

“Asra—” Julian’s voice is stuck between warning and whining.

“For fuck’s sake, Julian, you haven’t changed at all, have you?”

“Of course I—!”

Asra sits up again, slowly, and runs his hand through his fine white hair. “Makes sense, why you’d want to,” he says reluctantly. “I guess I can’t blame you for that. And why you’d decide that there was only one way to do it.”

“The book—”

“Was written for magicians, who would already know that there are other ways to contact the Arcana.”

“Oh.”

“I know the ritual. I can send you into the Hanged Man’s realm. Without killing you, even.”

Julian hesitates, glancing between me and Asra. “Alone?” he asks softly. I can’t tell if he wants the response to be yes or no.

Asra sighs. “Ideally. But honestly, I’m not sure I like that idea.” His eyes meet mine, from the other side of the room. “What if Reyja went?”

I hadn’t considered the possibility. I have magical skills, and more of a connection to Asra than Julian does, regardless of what happened between them. It might work.

“Instead of me?” Julian shakes his head and, almost automatically, reaches for my hand again, pulling me closer. “No. I won’t put her in danger.”

“Look, I’m just laying out the options. If shit goes wrong, there will be two lives at risk instead of one, and it takes a huge amount of magical energy to do what I’m suggesting.”

“So I have to face this alone.”

“Still on that kick, huh? No, that isn’t what I said. I can send you both, I just need some time to prepare. And a quiet place, preferably near water?”

Nadia, still seated in her cozy armchair, nods. “Valdemar’s threat is still present. If this stops it, I will do what I can to assist. You shall have all you require, and I’ll personally see to it that no one disturbs you.”

“Thanks.” As he stands and guides Faust back into her usual spot in his shirt, Asra eyes me closely, lingering especially on Julian’s hand in mine. “Don’t make this ‘represent’ anything, Julian,” he says. “And Reyja… actually, nevermind. It’s not time yet. I can tell.”

What’s that supposed to mean? He’s doing it again already, deciding for me what I can and can’t know. He did the same thing during my apprenticeship. It does inspire me to do better, and more, I suppose, just to prove him wrong. If Julian and I are going to the arcane realms, I’ll make sure we’re safe, no matter how dangerous Asra thinks they are. I’m not the same person he left standing in the shop that night. If nothing else, now I have someone to fight for.

------

We part ways with both Asra and Nadia at the base of the stairs. They’re heading out to the fountain in the garden to set up the ritual, which Asra said he’d start preparations on as soon as he finished his noon salat. Nadia recommended that Julian and I take advantage of the last few minutes of downtime we have before we go, and I was quick to agree.

Julian looks over his shoulder almost guiltily after I shut the door of my room.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing, nothing. Just, erm… I was trying to tell you, warn you, I suppose, before we went in, that Asra and I— It didn’t last. Clearly. Ha, really, the only feelings I retained are embarrassment and dismay, over my own actions.”

“Oh.” I have no experience with bitter exes. “What happened?”

I realize too late that that’s a very personal question, but Julian just shrugs. “Our involvement was almost purely physical. I needed… someone. Something. A, ahem, a firm hand.”

I swallow the image of Julian on his knees, submitting to Asra the same way I had pictured him submitting to me. “Did you get that, at least?”

“Oho, that and more, my darling.” He steps closer to me and reaches out to mesh our fingers. “But I took it too far. He wanted to end it and I, erm, didn’t. I’m ashamed of the lengths I went to hang onto him.”

“And that’s why—?”

“More or less. I think. It was all such a mess. I don’t blame him for, for responding like that. Holding a grudge. For all I know, I made it worse during the time I can’t remember.” Julian shakes his head.

“I mean, it’s good that you… aren’t like that anymore? Right?”

He chuckles. “I hope I’m not.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Mm.”

We stand together for a moment, then, biting my lip, I pull him closer to the bed. He follows gratefully, sinking down and letting me lean against him. His lips are soft on my cheek, his breath softer.

“Asra was one of the only people I could remember from my time in the palace,” he says. “That’s why I was searching for him when I found you. I had hoped he would know something.”

“I guess he did.”

“But I wouldn’t have known which questions to ask without you, my dear.”

Strange how it all fits together. “Did Asra live at the shop back then?”

“Yes. I believe it was left to him many years ago.”

I frown. “I wonder why he moved out, instead of making me leave.”

“For both of our sakes, I’m glad he didn’t. How would I have found you then, hm?”

That almost chills me. I don’t want to think about a world in which we never met. “We would’ve found each other somewhere,” I say quietly.

Julian lays back, settling me into the crook of his arm. “Yes,” he agrees. “But I’m grateful we didn’t have to wait any longer. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

He’s said that before. He said it the night we spent at Mazelinka’s house, and when we were in the library. And he’ll say it again, I’m sure.

I wonder, briefly, painfully, how many people he’s lost to “something happening,” that would make him so eager to repeat such a sentiment.

“I won’t either.”

“What’s that?”

I snuggle closer to him and tilt my head back to look him in the eye. “I won’t let anything happen to you, either. You… mean a lot to me.”

“You mean a lot to me, too, my dear. More than, erm, more than I could possibly say.” He blinks, letting the smile that had been floating at the corners of his mouth blossom. “Not that I won’t try, though.”

But he doesn’t have to say anything. Not right now. It’s enough, for the moment, to lay here with him, our hearts beating in tandem.

I doze off to the steady sound of his breath and awaken only after the sunlight has moved down the wall, to Asra stepping into the room without knocking. He looks haggard, already worn out by the work he’s done to set the stage for our adventure.

He pushes his hair back from his forehead and sighs. “It’s time.”

—————

Skylar belongs to @ollifree​.

prev || next

#the arcana #the arcana fanfic #julian devorak #reyja north #moth & raven

[marvelouss-marvel]

Feelings | T.H.

Summary: Tom and Melina have feelings for one another but are lost in expressing this through words. Do actions actually speak louder than words?

Pairing: Tom Holland x OC (who’s black, so you’re welcome ladies)

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: I meant to finish this yesterday but got tied up yesterday with schoolwork. So, I apologize. This is a contribution to the Quarantine Writing Challenge created by @chaneajoyyy​ and @shaekingshitup. Thank you for adding me to my very first writing challenge. Also, I recommend you listen to “Feelings” by Lauv; it’s a masterpiece and the inspiration for this fic.

Is my love too much? Or is it just enough for you, for you? 'Cause it's getting late, would you like to stay? Ah 'Cause I'm bad at reading signs

All evening, Tom had been sneaking glances Melina. The tempered glass on her prevented him from viewing her observations but he knew it had to be either Tumblr or Twitter; both platforms had a tendency of stretching her lips to form that soft smile of hers he’d grown to adore over the last few months. On top of that, she would hold her phone up to his face once in a while to grant Tom the chance of witnessing what made her snort.

Although secretly watching her was simple, Tom found it difficult to prevent his thoughts from skedaddling all over the place like ants running from human feet. He was attempting to gather the courage in revealing his true feelings to her but a second of his mouth opening effected the various “what if” scenarios he created.

His ringtone for Harrison went off, pulling the two best friends out of their silent world. Tom reached for his phone on the small coffee table but paused his actions once he noticed the time. “Uh, Mel?”

“Hmm…?” she hummed. She was quick to retreat back into her personal bubble.

“You do realize it’s 2 in the morning, right?” Tom continued.

“W—” Melina paused her video on Twitter to pull the control center down on her phone. “Crap! I gotta go!” She stood from the couch to begin gathering her scattered belongings.

She was right that she needed to leave… but Tom didn’t want that. Sure, they hardly spoke to one another for the rest of the night after watching the 2-hour long Netflix film but he wanted her company a bit longer. In addition to that, it was too early in the morning for him to be questioning her whereabouts.

A lightbulb went off in his head but it was the idea itself that rapidly pumped the blood to his heart. “You know… you can stay the night?”

Melina scoffed. “Tom, no. We’re not having this discussion.”

“Um, yeah we are. It’s late Mel. And I don’t want you out.”

“I know how you feel, dad, but I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.” She slightly rotated her head to wink his way. The irony of her statement was that she was petite for her age. Most of their friends were five-foot-five and above while Melina was often mistaken for an elementary student trying to fit in with the “big kids.”

Tom shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him. “Melina, no. Stay the night.”

“And miss the comfort of my bed? I don’t think so but thank you for the offer Tommy.”

Before Tom knew it, he was taking long strides to the front door and snatching her leather coat off the coat rack before her arm could reach out. Melina only raised one of her perfectly shaped brows she managed to do on her own in response.

“Okay?” she voiced. “What’re you doing?”

In that moment, Tom realized how much of a freak he perceived himself to be. He resembled a robot by shoving the item in her direction for her to take. “Um, I think it’s too late. And, I was wondering if you wanted to stay the night? It’s just I worry about you as your friend this time of the day.”

It took her a moment to respond but once she finally gave him his answer, he subtly released a breath he didn’t remember inhaling.

“You know, if you asked like that in the beginning, I would’ve said yes.” Melina smirked as she slid off her shoes. “You’re weird sometimes.” She left him by himself, claiming she needed to use the restroom.

But I, I wanna do whatever you wanna do If you wanted to, girl, we could cross that line

Even after two years of living in London, Melina continued to struggle in socializing. If she wasn’t lounging around in Tom’s apartment, the best friends were at the hottest club with their group of friends. No bad blood existed between her and the others; it was just the environment they chose to reside in for the evening.

Tom always noticed this quiet side of her. How she seemed to shrink in posture with slumped shoulders, even though she was gorgeous in her club attire. How she practiced her nervous habit of fiddling with her hands when it wasn’t her to turn to talk yet. How she sidled up against Tom every chance she got if people (mainly men) needed to squeeze by in reaching their destination. To tell you the truth, Tom found these adorable and made it a mission to protect her every time they went out.

The group had split a few minutes prior with Melina and Tom making their way to the bar. After constant begging, Melina hit the dance floor. Tom and the others cheered her on for three songs until she grew tired and yearned for some water. Like the unspoken bodyguard he was, Tom followed her.

“That was fun.” She began. “I haven’t danced like that since my family reunion.” She flagged the bartender down with a raised palm. “Excuse me, can I get some water?”

The woman behind the counter nodded with a smile and proceeded to fix the drink. Melina didn’t hesitate to grasp the foggy, clear glass and chug a large amount of the cold liquid down her throat.

Tom chuckled. “And when was that?”

He watched her chocolate eyes shift to stare at the ceiling in deep thought. “Like July? Of 2018?”

“Aren’t those every year?” he wondered. Last time he remembers having this discussion with Melina, she stated her family met up in the middle of July at one of the local parks every year.

“Yeah but, my parents didn’t go last year and don’t plan on going again this year. I gotta ask my mom again w—”

The sudden pause in the short story encouraged Tom to look up from the bar and into Melina’s eyes. Only, she was looking beyond him with an expression representing discomfort.

“That guy’s been eying me all night. I don’t like it.” she disclosed.

Tom swiveled around in his seat to find the man she was talking to. His eyes were able to pinpoint the stranger instantly searching for another area in sight to claim for straing. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Melina affirmed with a nod of her head. She gazed at the back of her best friends head, praying he wasn’t thinking about making a scene. That’s the last thing she wanted for him. “Hey Tom?”

“Yeah Love?” His eyes were back on her, softer than before when he reversed the role of eying the creeper.

Melina only pursed her lips in embarrassment. After the first club incident where an intoxicated man approached Melina and Tom stepped in to play the role of a protective boyfriend, it had become an unannounced habit to cozy up with one another to ward off the eyes of complete strangers. Still, Melina was anxious in requesting his form of rescuing.

“Come here, Darling.” Tom urged. One of his arms wrapped itself around her waist to twist her body so her back faced him. That same arm also maneuvered her to sit on his lap like a child posing with Santa Claus for a picture.

At this point in their friendship, Melina considered Tom to be her second home. Her immediate family lived thousands of miles away, calling her when they could on Whatsapp and bringing a smile to her face. Tom provided her the same form of comfort just about every day now that her life was here in London.

Realizing this, Melina rested her back against his chest as if he were a pillow. This was temporary but, she couldn’t help but want a little more.

But I feel 'em in my chest A tiny war within But when I pull you closer Girl, I can't explain

Two months had passed but that didn’t stop the two from growing closer in physical contact. Behind closed doors, Tom did more of pulling her into his side when sitting on the couch and for some odd but cute reason, Melina felt the need to straddle his lap when presenting exciting news.

Today was Melina’s hair day and she needed help taking out the box braids she had installed over a month ago. If she took the braids out herself, it would’ve taken longer due to how exhausted she was again from another rough week at work. So, Tom was her next option.

“Sorry if I ripped you away from any plans you had.” She apologized for the fourth time that day.

Tom scoffed. “Darling, how many times do I have to tell you to stop apologizing? I’m currently on break from work and trust me, I’d rather be here than at my place by myself. Haz went out with the crew and I wasn’t up for that today.” He explained. “Besides, I’d rather be here with you.”

A tiny smile sufficed, which didn’t match the beating of her heart that suddenly felt as if it was trying to crawl out of her chest.

“Putting these in looks hard but taking them out? Different story.” Tom commented.

“You’re telling me. Which is why I have other people do it for me. I knew a girl who installed similar braids herself but… it didn’t really come out right in the back. I think it was her first time.”

“Reminds me of the first time Harry tried giving himself a trim.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We ended up giving him a decent buzz cut.”

Her giggle had now become music to Tom’s ears. Whether it be her speaking, crying, or laughing, Tom wanted to record her voice and carry it with him for his travels away from home.

Home. She was now home to him. But how could he reveal that truth to her when his feelings ran deep and he didn’t want to ruin what they had?

He continued to remove her braids in tranquil silence while Melina pulled out her iPad to play a few levels of Homescapes. The further he moved up her head, the more Melina relaxed against his torso by slouching.

The close form of contact affected the temperature of his armpits. Tom was currently stuck on the level of Friendzoning where physical contact with Melina affected how his body responded to her touches. From sweaty armpits to a beating heart, Tom felt powerless in controlling his reactions. And it didn’t help that her head rested above his heart.

It was six-thirty when Tom was pulling the last braid from Melina’s natural hair. She was just shutting her eyes at this point with her iPad turned off and cradled under arms like a student on her way to class. Slumberland grasped her conscious mind once Tom’s fingers began massaging her scalp. Sure, it was dirty but it was necessary her head receive a good kneading from someone aside from herself.

“Feel good, Love?” he whispered.

She hummed in satisfaction. “I need this.”

And I know, and I know that it's on your mind That it's on your mind when I kiss you But I wanna do whatever you wanna do

“I like you. A lot.” Tom panted.

It was the first thing he blurted to Melina as soon as she opened the door to her apartment. He looked as if he’d ran the whole way with his disheveled hair, slightly wet face, and drenched-in-sweat T-shirt he the threw on.

“What?” Melina whispered. Her heart and mind were hoping he meant what he meant.

“I like you a lot. And I mean that as in I have a major crush on you. I have for a while.” He elaborated in between breaths.

Melina ushered him in with a wave of her hand. “Come in, Tommy.”

He stepped over the threshold into the warmth of her apartment. His nose immediately picked up the scent of seasoning for her famous enchilada’s. The ceiling lights were dimmed to create a relaxing vibe. Behind her living space, the tiny dining table was blanketed with a cream table cloth and a vase of flowers stood in the middle of it.

“I just had a good day today, that’s all. I wanted to give myself a bit of a celebration.” She weakly explained. This moment in particular was something she anticipated for the longest but not in the manner of her appearing to set up for a date that wasn’t with Tom. “Um, so you like me?”

“Yeah, I do.” He moved his eyes away from the setting to fully look at her. Her digits were fiddling with one another again and her eyes landed on the space between their feet. Tom rested his hand over hers to lace their fingers. “I just think you’re… beautiful inside and out. You make me happy every time I’m around and… and I just wanted you to know.” He braced himself for the next part. “But, if you don’t feel the same that’s totally fine.”

She chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I feel the same?”

He knew what she was doing. Things could get awkward when Tom had these truthful moments with people. She wanted to ease his feelings through jokes. “Darling, c—”

“I’m being serious. Why wouldn’t I feel the same about you, Tom? You’re everything I like in a guy. Fine as hell, sweet, funny, and all in all: a gentleman.”

They were holding direct eye contact now, a smirk resting on Melina’s lips. She was the one who eventually leaned in connect their lips. Eyes closed, Tom’s arm snaked itself around her waist to pull her closer while both of Melina’s arms wrapped around his neck.

He moved away first, resting his forehead against hers. “Is there room for one more person for your celebratory dinner.”

“There’s always room for one when I’m having a good day.” She giggled as he leaned down to peck her lips again.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x oc #tom holland x black!reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland #peter parker x oc #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman fic #marvel #marvel fic #penning while black

[mollymauk-teafleak]

baby, you’re like lightning in a bottle (chapter one)

Peter Nureyev has a new name, a fake identity, a fake life to step into to complete his very first off planet solo mission. Unfortunately, it involves going undercover as a high school student at Oldtown High. And the people he meets there mean his mission will go anything but smoothly.

This high school AU was the idea of my amazing girlfriend @spiky-lesbian

Please leave a comment over on ao3 or reblog if you like this! 

---

If he repeated his mission over and over again in his head, he couldn’t fail.

That’s what Peter Nureyev told himself as he sat on the hard plastic chair, gripping it’s edge with knuckles tighter than they needed to be, his jaw set hard like he was trying to chew something that wouldn’t go down. He would fix his face, smooth his posture, shift his face into the look of unshakable confidence he’d spent so long perfecting but he needed to look nervous right now. He needed to look like a cornered animal.

Which was convenient, at least. Less work for him.  

Repeat the instructions. Remember the rules. Follow the plan. Don’t fuck up. It sounded so simple and, if Peter believed hard enough, it would be. First rule of thieving, belief in your own skills is half the battle.

There was a secretary at a desk across from him, taking up most of what little room there was in the anteroom to the office. She was mostly focused on her computer screen, typing or tiredly slapping the flat of her hand against it when it glitched out, but every so often she’d give him a sympathetic glance. The kind of glance you’d naturally give a clearly underfed, scrawny teenager, starting a brand new school in the dead centre of the roughest part of Oldtown, with his too big, second hand clothes, scuffing his worn trainers against the carpet. The kind of glance that said oh you poor thing, you have no idea what you’re in for.

If only she knew, Peter thought with a dry amusement. If only she knew just how far he’d travelled, how out of his element he was right now, how he’d simultaneously faced things so much worse than a high school and was so deeply terrified by it. If she saw everything in his cheap rucksack that weren’t school supplies; the long range signal device, the pen drive stuffed full of the galaxy’s most insidious malware, the plasma knife, all carefully concealed amongst the notebooks and pens and pencils. Peter wondered how her face would change then.

It was as if remembering it was there had reminded him what he was here to do and the nerves welled up fresh, like a wound had been prodded. His heart began to thud in his thin chest, his palms began to prickle with heat, the old tic he’d been trying so hard to suppress made his knee bounce. Peter tried to tell himself it would be fine, talking himself through the plan, repeating the mission again and again as if to prove to himself that he knew it by heart. As if simply remembering the words Mag had left him with would be the same as pulling off his very first solo, off planet job.

First rule of thieving, don’t go into a gig you aren’t ready for. Mag was a pragmatist, he’d always been the one sensibly pouring water on Peter’s fervour, after all, making their risks calculated and manageable. And so much was riding on this, the work Peter did here would open up whole new streams of income for them back on Brahma, so much more fuel for the fight. With everything invested in it, the ticket to Mars, the accomodation for a month, the effort to build Peter a fake life solid enough to get him enrolled in a government funded high school, there was no room to play it fast and loose. If Mag said his apprentice was ready for this, then it had to be true. When had he ever steered him wrong?

Peter allowed himself a sigh, one that the secretary wouldn’t hear or, if she did, she’d chalk it up to the understandable anxiousness of the new kid. He’d come a long way from the first time he’d stolen an apple from a stall under Mag’s careful eye.

To keep himself focused, he played a game. Peter did that a lot, he found himself uncomfortable with any time not consumed by some useful distraction. It was why he always listened to the radio as he fell asleep, no matter how many times Mag threatened to take the power brick out of it. He just couldn’t stand idle silence. So he pushed his glasses up his nose and took a quick study of the secretary’s desk to see what information he could glean about her.

His brain worked fast, plucking the bits of information out greedily. Family picture, wife, three children. Notes on her desk, the numbers of different homes for the elderly in Hyperion. Infirm parents and an upcoming heavy drain on her finances, then. Her nails were long but the polish was chipping, like she drummed them on her desk frequently. A short temper or just stressed? More likely the latter, she’d been kind to him so far. Or at least as kind as someone who worked in a place where she must see a hundred neglected, underweight kids with clear signs of poverty could afford to be without going insane. Her desk had no signs of organisation whatsoever, not so much as a sticky note to pin a flag in that riot of loose papers. So she was distracted, under pressure and clearly prone to losing track of information.

Peter thought he could drain the full contents of her bank account within a month.

Obviously, thinking that didn’t make him feel good and he’d never actually do it. But he could feel how proud Mag would be, if he brought him all of that from just a minute of observation, her whole life mapped out in a blueprint. How he’d smile at him and squeeze his shoulder and remind him of the first rule of thieving, know how to read your marks in a single glance, a glance might be all you get. Peter had mastered that one at age seven.

The secretary’s intercom buzzed suddenly and Peter didn’t need to fake his nervous jolt at the harsh, staticy sound. The voice on the other end was too muddy to make out but the secretary lifted her eyes and said, “You can go on through now. Mr Spoor is ready for you.”

Nureyev nodded, scrambling to his feet, patting himself down in a way that would look like he was trying to neaten himself up when in fact, he was deliberately ruffling his hair, yanking down his t-shirt so the frays on the hem would be visible, missing the smudge under his ear. First rule of thieving, you’re never in such a position of power as when the mark underestimates you.

The principal’s office was pretty meagre but at least had a slight edge on the rest of his run down, underfunded school. The chair Peter sat in was worn through so the stuffing poked out, the desk between them had deep gouges in it that hadn’t been sanded down, the computer to the side of them was an ancient model that Peter could have cracked with his eyes closed. That boded well for the rest of his mission.

“It’s customary to have these orientation meetings with your guardian present,” the principal's voice was cool and had no trace of a warm welcome in it, not even a greeting. It matched the expression on his craggy face, “I was expecting to meet them.”

“Um…” Peter swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably, shrinking himself down, “They, uh...my dad...he...he was sick this morning so he couldn’t come.”

There was a lot that could be read into that, half a hundred hidden explanations that, given the catchment area of Oldtown High, Mr Spoor would have seen again and again. So he didn’t press, just giving Peter an unimpressed glance like it was his fault that his non existent father was absent, turning to the screen.

“Very well then...Peter Ransom, correct?”

“That’s right…” Peter nodded.

“That’s right, sir.”

Peter gave a little start, cheeks reddening to come off as merely intimidated and unsure rather than outwardly defiant. As fun as that would be, it wouldn’t make his task any easier, “Sir. Sorry. Sir.”

Mr Spoor likely would have narrowed his lips if they weren’t already worn down to a permanent grimace of disapproval, turning back to the screen and whatever information was on there. Most of it counterfeit, of course.

“So you were born on the outer rim...passable scores in your previous assessments…”

Peter kept his face impassive, though something roiled inside him. The grades Mag had put together for him were fantastic, he knew that for a certainty, and he could match them with his ability. But he didn’t rise, he didn’t bite. He just looked suitably shy and intimidated, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the floor, fidgeting with the large, second hand glasses Mag had given him to replace his usual sleek, cat eye ones.

“You’ll be starting with us as a senior, given your age and...supposed ability. I expect you to maintain an acceptable standard of work, given that you’re joining so late in the year. We cannot afford for you to fall behind,” Mr Spoor continued, looking more at the screen than the child in front of him, “What is it exactly that brings someone from a place like Brahma to a Martian high school?”

Peter swallowed, “My dad got a job on Mars, sir. He said things would be better for us here...that I’d be able to go to a good school and make friends…”

The principal didn’t even try to hide his snort of disdain, deepening Peter’s instantly formed dislike of the man. He must have thought this new student of his was blind, that he hadn’t seen the graffiti covering the front of the building, how the chairs didn’t match in the classrooms he’d passed, how the books were dog eared and the floors permanently scuffed. Did he enjoy seeing these children clearly born just after the war, with their tattered families and nightmares of a time they could only half remember, crossing the galaxy for something close to a life worth living, coming through his school and being ground down just like the rest of them? Did he find it amusing, seeing a boy who’d grown up scared of the sky itself daring to hope that things might be better here?

Again, Peter repeated his mission in his head.

“We might as well take you on,” Mr Spoor said, as if he didn’t particularly care one way or the other, “I’m sure you’ll fit right in with our other students.” The way he said it made it sound neither reassuring or like a positive.

“Thank you, sir,” Peter feigned a mix of relief, excitement and fear, “I promise I’ll work really hard and do really well.”

The look Mr Spoors gave him made him wonder how he’d like a plasma knife at his throat but, thankfully, it was brief, soon replaced by dismissal, “You’ll begin classes after lunch. Go wait outside again and my secretary will give you your timetable.”

With more breathless, slightly panicked enthusiasm, Peter retreated, looking forward to rewarding himself with a momentary, bitter scowl in between the door closing and approaching the secretary.

But, as it happened, he never got the chance. Because there was now another student was occupying the same chair he’d been sitting on. And Peter’s heart stopped dead for a moment, for a number of reasons.

One, their face was covered in blood. Splatters of it radiated out from a nose that was now swollen and tender, from a lip that was messily split, and Peter knew enough of basic field medicine to know their left eye would be black and purple and swollen nearly shut the next day. The fists angrily clenched in their lap had split knuckles too, just to complete the image.

Two, the face beneath the gore was beautiful.

Peter steadied himself, swallowing hard and taking the seat next to his new schoolmate. Almost immediately, the uninjured eye fixed a glare on him so sharp and vicious that Peter promptly shifted to the next chair along.

He knew the over eager, overcompensating new student he was supposed to be playing would immediately try to make friends, stick his hand out in the gap between them and introduce himself in a too loud, too sunny voice as Peter Ransom. Probably to be met with another glare and possibly a punch to the face, given how much they were twitching with what was clearly post-fight adrenaline. But for some reason, he couldn’t quite manage it so they sat in a frosty silence, punctuated only by the secretary's nails tapping on her computer keys and the steady drip of blood from their nose to the floor.  

Still, Peter had a thief’s curiosity. He stole enough glances at the other kid to glean a little bit about them. They were his age, though shorter and stockier by nature, with an anger naturally set into their face that poor newbie Peter Ransom would never feel. Their hair was a mess of black curls, piled on top of their head and shaved underneath, their ear held numerous piercings they were clearly too young to have acquired legally or hygienically. That surely wouldn’t be permitted by the dress code Peter had studied avidly along with the schematics of the school, the faculty list and every other piece of information he’d been able to get about Oldtown High, determined to do a good and  thorough job. The code would probably have had something to say about their combat boots that were a size too big, their fishnet tights and short skirt, their sleeveless shirt with, incongruously, a picture of a cartoon man on it and the bright, bubbly text reading ‘Turbo!’. There had probably been bigger misdemeanours to think about at the time than a dress code violation.

“What the hell are you staring at?”

Peter jumped at the rough, angry voice, realising the kid was scowling right at him. Their face was clearly made for that expression; Peter had faced down armed guards, lasers from the clouds, jobs that would have landed him in jail for ten times the years he’d been alive but he’d seldom felt so intimidated.

And people didn’t normally notice him looking. After all, first rule of thieving, your eyes are your greatest weapon, don’t be obvious when you use them.

“I...nothing, I’m not…” he searched for a response, glad it was in Ransom’s nature to be easily put off.

“Do I look like the kind of guy you want to mess with right now?” the scowl deepened, sending a fresh line of blood running down their chin from their broken lip.

“Um...no,” Peter decided it was better to give simple answers.

“Yeah,” they gave a dry snort with no humour in it, “So keep your eyes to yourself or lose them, pal.”

Blood, angry tones and threats didn’t scare Peter Nureyev but they weren’t the reason he looked away hastily and was glad of it. It had more to do with dark eyes, holding depths he knew he’d never open up with just a glance, a faded white scar across a flat nose that he thought he’d like to trace with the very tip of his finger, full lips that looked soft somehow even as they were curled in anger.

Peter gave himself a mental slap, repeating his mission again, louder and firmer. He could practically hear Mag laughing at him all the way from Brahma.

First rule of thieving, stop mooning after every pretty boy who so much as glances at you, Pete! How many times do I have to tell you?

He had to admit, he’d been hoping for a smoother start on his first off planet solo mission.

Fortunately, the secretary spoke up not long after, “Peter? Peter Ransom?”

He jumped to his feet, receiving a few papers from her. A class schedule, a map and an outline of expected behaviour. Peter had seen all of this and far, far more in his research but he made sure Ransom looked at it with apprehension, as if it was written in another language.

“And for you, Mr Steel, another detention slip,” her voice took on a kind of fond, bemused exhaustion, “Add it to the collection.”

The other student jumped up and swiped the pink piece of paper from her hands, stuffing it carelessly in the pocket of his skirt, “Thanks, Brenda.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to Peter, “It’s lunchtime at the moment, I’m sure Mr Steel here would be happy to show you to the cafeteria.”

Instantly, Mr Steel stiffened and shot her an exasperated look which she soundly ignored, turning back to her computer screen in a manner that suggested he could stand and look at her like that all day, for all she cared. Eventually, he gave a growl and stomped out of the office, down the corridor. Peter followed, pausing in the doorway to give him a chance to storm off and leave him behind.

There was no hiding his surprise when, after a few seconds, he snapped, “Are you coming or what?”

Peter did.

Nureyev knew every inch of the hallways but of course Ransom didn’t, so he fixed an expression of wary awe on his face. There were some things that didn’t take a lot of effort, like the swear word carved into one locker that he’d never even heard of or when the sound of a muffled explosion shook the floor above them where the science rooms were. They passed other students, who shot unsurprised looks at the state of Steel and appraised him like a piece of fresh meat in a butcher’s. Peter would have loved the chance to try his knife or his wits against one of them, he’d long ago learned to make up for the scrawny appearance that made them look at him so hungrily.

Stick to the mission. Follow the instructions. Do your job.

Abruptly, Steel stopped, without turning around, “Cafeteria’s down that way. See you.”

Peter blinked, glancing at the double doors he was indicating with a thumb, which were practically shaking out of their frames with the sound of what had to be a riot behind them, “Aren’t you eating too?”

“What’s it to you, pal?” Juno did turn then, just enough to fix him with an incredulous look.

Before Peter had to come up with an answer, they were interrupted by a loud shout of, “Juno!”

Peter thought his eyes were playing tricks on him for a moment, an exact copy of Steel was bounding down some stairs to their left. Except this one was smiling, a hundred kilowatt grin, and wearing leggings, an oversize sweatshirt and sneakers that flashed when they hit the floor.

“Oh god, Juno, your face is a mess,” he grimaced at the sight of his twin’s face, “Jones did a number on you, huh?”

“‘Bout half the number I did on them, they got carted off to the emergency room,” Steel, now Juno, grunted, still stiff and awkward, throwing glances in Peter’s direction.

“I’m sure they deserved it,” the other Steel shrugged, turning their grin on Peter, “Hey! I’m Benzaiten, you can call me Ben or Benten. You new?”

“Um, yes! I just started today actually, I...I’m from off planet and…”

“That’s cool! You can tell us more over lunch,” Ben’s tidal wave of positivity bowled over him, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder.

Both Juno and Peter froze.

“Over what now?”

“Uh, that’s kind of you but...um, I don’t know if I…”

“He’s new, Juno, of course he’s coming to sit with us!” Ben shrugged, like the matter was obvious.

Juno was staring daggers at his twin, looking ready to throttle him, “The guy says he’s fine, so he’s fine.”

“Come on, Juno, don’t be a bitch,” Ben laughed fondly, like he didn’t see that his twin was gritting his teeth hard enough to shatter, “We’d better get moving, Mick and Sasha will already be waiting…”

He turned on his neon flashing heel and bounced down the hall in the complete opposite direction to the cafeteria, not waiting for them. Juno groaned and pressed his fingertips to his temples like he was trying to ward off a migraine. After what was clearly him counting backwards from ten, he frowned and set off after his brother.

“Come or don’t come,” he growled over his shoulder at Peter, “I couldn’t care less.”

For a moment, neither Nureyev nor Ransom really knew what to do. He repeated his mission again in his head.

Blend in. Sneak in after dark. Find the evidence. Upload the malware. Send it to Mag. Run.

Nowhere in that list did it say follow a beautiful, angry stranger and his bubblegum brother god only knew where. In fact, Peter was pretty sure they fell squarely under the definition of a distraction, something he knew to avoid. He knew what the sensible choice was, the decision someone who could be trusted with missions like this, who would work tirelessly to be the best thief he could be, would make.

But...wouldn’t this count as blending in?

Armed with that flimsy excuse, Peter followed Juno Steel.

#jupeter #juno steel #peter nureyev #high school au #benzaiten steel #mick mercury #ben/mick #sasha wire #slow burn #enemies to friends to lovers #please reblog! #or comment! #or both! #make my whole damn day!

[whirlybirbs]

— tenderly feral, ii. 

summary: you are starting to trust daryl, but neither of you trust alexandria. pairing: daryl dixon x female!reader rating: t for violence, references to murder/assault/loss, s5 spoilers, if that matters. word count: 2.3k a/n: set mid-season 5. this is shorter, but there’s some bonding + touching, so pls enjoy daryl & boston becoming closer and closer. also, @thatdamnokie​ made a playlist for this fic and i cannot say enough good things about it. please give it a listen! 

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Deanna seems... nice.

All of this seems nice. Too nice.

Like a dream.

(You’re waiting for the twist; when does this dream turn into a nightmare? When does someone pull a gun, force you to your knees, and pull the trigger?)

The floorboards creak under your boots as you move through the living room, eyes drawing up the walls decorated with wallpaper and photos and curtains and... life. This home is full it, bursting at the seams with it. It smells like vanilla and laundry. Outside, the birds chirp and the sun filters in through the windows to dance on the carpet.

It feels like some sick joke.

“Do you mind if I film this?”

You swallow, lashes kissing your cheeks as you blink away your cynicism. Your head swivels, flying to find Deanna standing in the doorway. There’s a creeping feeling under your skin; it’s a mix of distrust and confusion and fear...

“Who are you?”

“I could ask the same of you,” she says softly, settling in, “So sit. And we’ll talk.”

So you do.

✘

You leave the house after an hour.

A shaky breath falls from your lips as you pull the door shut and find Daryl lingering on the porch. He turns, cigarette hanging between his fingers as you wring your own hands. Blue eyes slip along your form, eyeing your posture and expression -- worry flashes across his face like a lightning strike.

(He’d been waiting close by. Didn’t wanna leave you alone. Not with some stranger. Not in some... house. Daryl doesn’t trust this. You don’t either. He can see it on your face.)

“You okay?”

His voice is a rumble. Like thunder on a humid night.

“M’fine,” you breathe, stepping forward. The others watch the exchange from the lawn. You move to pass but slow up, letting your shoulder touch his. After a beat, your raise your chin you speak lowly, “Be nice.”

His lip quirks. Like a snarl. He flicks his cigarette off the porch and drops his head. He exhales a laugh.

He’s last to go.

“Me?” he croaks, brushing by, “M’ always nice.”

✘

“What did you do?” Deanna had asked, “Before all this?”

Your lip had twitched. You had fussed in your seat, crossing your legs and leaning forward and shaking your head. The look on your face, at that moment, was steeped in an emotion shaken and stirred with nostalgic regret. You scratched your brow as your mouth moved... but, nothing came out.

So, Deanna waited.

Your eyes traced the pattern in the rug for the hundredth time.

Then, you cleared your throat and spoke.

“I was a teacher.”

✘

Rick insists on sleeping in the same house tonight, together.

While everyone begins to hunker down, you poke around the house. It’s nice, something that would go for a million in the suburbs outside of Boston. It’s got a lotta space and good lighting and better bones.

Michonne catches you in the upstairs bedroom. She leans in the doorway, head tilting as she watches you fleet from wall to wall. When she does speak, her voice is soft. You jump.

“There’s a change of clothes in the dresser,” she says, “Should fit you... and the shower’s open.”

You blink at her. Shock draws up your brows.

“Shower?”

A nod.

“... Hot water?”

Michonne just smiles.

(The paint in the bathroom reminds you of your cousin’s house. Heron grey.)

You spend a good hour in there -- scrubbing and washing and grinning ear-to-ear for the first time since this whole thing went down. The shampoo smells like a life you lived before and when you step out into the steam of the bathroom, you can almost pretend the world is normal again. The towel is soft and the air is warm and your happily pull on the pair of jeans and sweater that Michonne had laid out.

You pad downstairs, face happy and eyes heavier.

Daryl is in the kitchen, poking around for a snack, when you wander in.

You smell like... fruit. Flowers and fruit.

He squints.

“You clean up nice.”

He means it.

You snort through your nose and snake around the counter. There’s a basket of fruit there -- so you pluck an apple from the bunch and move to lean against the marble island. Daryl, still dirty and still fussing, continues to dig through the cabinets.

“You gonna shower?” you ask after a few bites of the apple.

“Nah,” he spits, “Later.”

You roll your eyes. Daryl catches it. He drops his crossbow on the counter with a rattle and hops up, legs swinging. You move closer, crossing the kitchen to lean against the counter next to him and look out the window above the sink. In the next room, the chatter of the group washes out the silence.

You raise the apple, offering it.

The moon hangs high in the sky.

He takes it, bites, and hands it back.

“Think we’ll stay?”

“Dunno,” Daryl mumbles, “... I dunno.”

You just nod and chew your apple.

✘

“We have a school,” Deanna had explained, “And we need teachers. Our children... they’re our future.”

You fell quiet, arms wrapping around yourself as your knee bounces.

It hurts to remember your classroom -- to remember your kids, your coworkers, your school. When things got bad, FEMA rolled in and made it a shelter, but with no National Guard left for stationing and a rampant looting problem spreading through the city, things went south fast. Those children... your chest aches to think about where they are now. If... If they are... if they just are.

“I know that.”

“Will you help?” she asked, “Teach them? Math, art, science, history... anything.”

“I taught fourth grade.”

Deanna smiled at you like you were the sun, then.

And you felt sick.

✘

The living room is full.

There’s a roof over your head and food in your belly and a pillow under your head. You’re safe, as safe as you probably could be. Behind two feet thick steel walls and the four more that make up this damn Alexandria mansion. Rick and Michonne and Daryl are here. Glenn is here. Maggie, Sasha, Carol... Everyone.

Except Tyreese, except Beth.

But, you’re here. And you’re safe.

And still, you can’t sleep.

You roll, hips complaining from the position you’d taken up in the corner. The blanket around your shoulders is warm, and falls around your waist as you sit up, hair wild, and sigh.

Daryl, still perched at his spot by the window, can see the frustration written on your face from across the room.

Your eyes catch his, and he speaks softly.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

✘

You wrap your arms close around you, steps falling in line with Daryl’s as you sniffle and shiver a bit. It’s getting colder now with autumn creeping in -- it’s not as cold as Boston, though, so you suppose you’re thankful. The first winter there was miserable; the walkers froze solid, so it was safer, but with no heat and no food?

You were as good as frozen.

The sound of a pack of coyotes baying in the distance brings you back.

Alexandria is quiet -- the only lights come from the moon overhead and the candles glowing in windows here and there. The tops of the trees bleed into the horizon like ink in water. It’s peaceful, air filled with peepers and crickets and the kiss of the wind in the trees.

Daryl’s hands are shoved in his pockets.

His breath, glowing in the cold, curls around him as he speaks.

“... She give you a job?”

You’re quiet for a while after he asks. As Daryl walks, he watches your face out of the corner of his eye. You’re thinking -- your face is warped into a look he’s never seen before. It’s heavy with concentration. But not on the conversation.

Once you hit the end of the block, you shrug.

“Yeah,” you mutter, “She did.”

Daryl blinks up at the stars. Tries to play off his interest.

“Somethin’ good?”

“Somethin’ I used t’ do.”

His brow lifts. “Before all this?”

“Yeah,” you parrot with a lack of substance, “Before all this.”

His head falls. His hair is in his eyes when he stops short and looks at you.

“Why?”

Your nose scrunches.

“Why what?” You keep walking.

Daryl hops to catch up.

“Why th’ whole...” he gestures at you, “... Why’re y’ mad?”

“I’m not mad,” you mumble as you walk, shaking your head. You turn to catch his eyes. In the light of the moon, he seems more boyish than before. A little worried, a little scared. You slow down to let him catch up fully. “It’s just scary. I don’t... I don’t trust all this.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Neither do I.”

“That why you weren’t sleeping?”

Daryl nods. You hum.

“You?”

You laugh bitterly as you round another corner, shoulders brushing his. “I’m just... I haven’t slept in a house in... months, maybe. Not one where I didn’t have to keep an eye open, or... Or one where I knew I was... safe. But, I don’t know that. I don’t know that I’m safe. I want it to be true, but...”

“But, we don’t know.”

You cross your arms tighter and inhale as you stop, facing him fully. He takes pause, too, and rocks on his boots. As your eyes scale him, his drop. He shrinks, then, toeing the pavement.

“What did you do,” you ask then, spurred by a moment of wonder, “Before all this?”

Silence is the response. Then, he reaches and digs out a cigarette from his vest.

“Does it matter?”

His lighter clinks open, then closed. His face is illuminated by the embers of the Marlboro.

“It did,” you shake your head, eyes glimmering with exhaustion and sadness, “To them.”

“I was nobody,” he chirps, wetting his lips and shrugging. He turns on his heel. You follow, “Nobody.”

“You were somebody to someone,” you mumble, not complaining when his arm brushes yours. He’s heading back to the house, “Right?”

He dodges the question, fast and hard. “What about you, huh? Before shit went down, what’d y’ do?”

“Fourth grade.”

“What?” he squints.

“I taught,” you laugh a little, dry and sad, “I taught fourth grade.”

Daryl slows up, for a second, and lets his face soften. He can see it now -- you, showered and in fresh clothes and looking happier. He could see you, wrangling in a bunch a’ screaming kids. Teachin’ math, or arts ‘n’ crafts. He can see you being not-so-feral. Reading along, recess duty, and PTA meetings.

You note the expression on his face. Yours warps into one of sheepishness.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he chirps quietly, taking a drag of his cigarette, “I can see it, s’all.”

“You can see it?” you jab, knocking his arm, “What’s that mean?”

Daryl just shrugs. And you let the ghost of a smile play on your lips.

As he makes his way up the steps, you linger. He takes note and leans against the porch beam.

“Y’know,” he rasps, “This is th’ most you’ve ever talked, but you ain’t sayin’ much.”

You guess he’s right.

So, you follow him inside.

✘

“Your friend outside... Daryl, is it...?”

You pulled up your gaze from the carpet, a soft look flickering there. Deanna saw it. It brought a smile to her face, then, and she nodded knowingly -- her hands were knotted as she spoke.

“Is that what you are...?” she asked, “Friends...?”

You felt like you’d got cottonmouth.

“... Why don’t you ask him that?”

“Oh,” she laughed, “I will. But... I have a feeling he’s gonna give me a run for my money, isn’t he?”

“... He saved my life.”

“You owe him,” she spoke quickly, “Or... you... feel like you do?”

“Maybe.”

She hummed.

And you let that hit you like a ton of bricks.

✘

“Quit squirmin’.”

You’re tossing and turning and it’s not until you’ve accidentally elbowed Daryl twice in five minutes that he speaks up. The whisper falls on your ears with a pointed edge, weighed with the bleariness of sleep. The archer kicks his legs then, rolling to look at you from over his shoulder.

You groan, palming at your eyes as you roll flat on your back and huff.

You croak out an apology.

Daryl exhales, making a point of his sleep-driven irritation, before he rolls back over to face the wall.

He, however, does not go back to sleep. Instead, he stares at the wall and thinks.

Daryl Dixon does a lot of thinking -- might not show, but he does. He sure as hell doesn’t speak his mind, but the man works things out up top before he acts. He’s grown past firing from the hip... most of the time. Doesn’t mean he doesn't get angry or frustrated or violent. Just means he’s careful.

And right now, he’s got a lot on his mind.

Your breathing never evens out -- it’s still shallow and you’re still fussing. So, Daryl decides it’s in his best interest to do something. Y’know, so you won’t keep him up and he can get some damn sleep.

He promptly rolls flat on his back and hauls his blanket up over the two of you.

He sees your lashes dances as you blink, confusion flying across your face as you turn to eye him. He dodges your glance, eyes focused on his hands as he tucks the blanket over you and rolls to lay on his stomach. He drops his face into the pillow, ignoring the way your shoulder fits up against his ribs and how your legs touch his, and croaks out a grouchy:

“Go t’ bed.”

And that’s that.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon imagine #twd imagine #twd reader insert #the walking dead imagine #norman reedus x reader

[mikauzoran]

Adrienette: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Eighteen

Read it on AO3: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...as encouragement.

“What did I miss?” Adrien called as he trotted up to his friends waiting at the bottom of the school’s front steps.

“Marinette’s going to win this contest Hermès is holding,” Alya announced with a smirk. “You know. No big.”

“Alya,” Marinette sighed in exasperation. “I haven’t entered yet. I haven’t even come up with a design.”

Adrien gave Nino a fist bump in greeting before turning to beam at Marinette. “Yeah, but you’re going to win once you do.”

“I don’t know about that,” Marinette mumbled, looking back down at her sketchbook.

“I do,” Alya snickered. “Listen to the boy. He knows what he’s talking about. He’s a fashion thoroughbred.”

Adrien blushed, finger going to tug at his collar. “Uh, technically, I think I’m more of a nouveau riche upstart, but I definitely know a thing or two about fashion, and you’ve got talent, Marinette. What kind of contest is it?”

“Ties,” she sighed, trying to hide how red her cheeks had become at his praise. “The artistic director for the men’s line, Véronique Nichanian, is going to be judging the finals herself, so I really want something that’s going to stand out.”

Nino gave Adrien a nudge. “Didn’t you do some modeling for Hermès a year or so ago when your father was pimping you out to other fashion houses to quote-unquote ‘expand your resume and build up the foundations of your career’?”

Adrien sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah. That happened.”

“Well, hook a girl up,” Alya chuckled, giving Adrien a teasing shove. “Not that I don’t think Marinette can win on her own merits, but having an edge never hurt anyone. What kind of insider knowledge do you have?”

“Nothing really,” Adrien admitted shamefacedly. “I wish I could be more helpful, but the only piece of advice I can think of is to do a fun, quirky pattern, but camouflage it so that it doesn’t look tacky. Like, Hermès does have some silly patterns. For example, there’s this one with horses and jockeys up in the clouds, and then on the reverse side it has the horses and jockeys with parachutes.”

Nino cracked up. “Seriously? And let me guess…they want, like, two hundred euros for it, yeah?”

Adrien shrugged helplessly. “It’s hand-sewn silk?”

Nino shook his head sadly. “Mec…no. Two hundred euros for a silly tie? That’s criminal.”

“Okay,” Adrien admitted. “That one’s a little…less sleek, in my opinion, but then they have this one tie I actually really like.”

“Also probably for two hundred euros,” Nino chuckled, elbowing his best friend playfully.

“It’s got a bunch of little blue fish on it,” Adrien explained, giving Nino a light shove. “From afar, it just looks like a normal tie with a small geometric pattern repeating, but when you get up close, you can tell that they’re fish, and it’s kind of funny. It looks professional at a distance, but up close it’s a quirky tie. I think that’s the kind of design the judges will be looking for.”

Marinette, who had been hanging on Adrien’s every word, nodded, making mental notes.

As if coming to an important realization, Adrien gave a start and hurriedly added, “Only if that’s what you’re inspired to do. I don’t want you thinking you have to limit yourself based on what I said. I don’t really know what I’m talking about, and you have such a sharp instinct for this kind of thing, so…just do whatever you think is best.”

“No, I really appreciate your input,” Marinette assured, stepping in across the little circle their group had formed to rest a hand on his forearm. “In the end, I’ll go with my gut, but what you said gave me some ideas, so I think I’m off in the right direction. Do you think there’s anything I should avoid doing? Any colours or patterns or subjects?”

Adrien bit his lip as he considered briefly. “A lot of their products have the H logo all over them. I think they’ve done the H in all the ways it’s possible to turn an H into a design element. I know you’re super innovative, but I think that, since it’s their signature thing, they’ve probably seen pretty much everything and have higher standards for what they want in that kind of design, so it might be really hit or miss. I’m not saying to play it safe, but maybe save tackling a new take on one of the signature elements of their branding for later.”

“Noted,” Marinette affirmed.

“Also, maybe avoid horses,” Adrien added with a grimace. “It’s another one of their things. I’m sure plenty of other people do horses, so if you do horses, you might not stand out unless your design is over and above amazing—which I’m sure it will be anyway, but—and, besides, they already have a lot of merchandise with horses on it, so I don’t know that that’s what they’d be looking for.”

“Why horses?” Nino couldn’t help but wonder aloud…though, he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know.

“If I remember correctly, the company founder originally made luxury leather goods like saddles and stuff for English nobles for horseback riding. So, yeah. Lots of horses,” Adrien explained with a smile and a shrug.

Nino frowned. “I mean…I guess that’s legit.”

“So, do you have any ideas now?” Alya excitedly inquired of Marinette…who didn’t respond because she was already absorbed in her sketchpad, quickly drafting the beginnings of a handful of possible designs.

The squad watched in awed silence as Marinette’s pencil moved frenetically across the page.

Less than five minutes later, she had three rough sketches and half a dozen other fledgling ideas in the works.

“What do you think?” She flipped the sketchbook so that the others could see the page with her quick sketches and notes on colour.

Adrien’s eyes went wide as he observed that the designs were all Chat Noir-inspired.

The first featured green paw prints on a black ground, spaced close together and turned around anticlockwise on their axis so as to give the impression of cohesive dynamism.

The second was black cat heads on a rose-pink background that had the same effect as Adrien’s fish tie. From a distance, it would look like a respectable, grownup tie, but up close you could see the fun in the design.

The third had miniature Chat Noir batons arranged in staggered, downward diagonal lines that, again, looked like a normal tie design from farther away.

“That’s amazing,” Adrien breathed, looking up at Marinette as she stowed the sketchbook back in her satchel. “Did you seriously just come up with all these right now, in, like, five minutes?”

Marinette smiled shyly, tucking a bang behind her ear as she shrugged. “What can I say? You really inspired me.”

A surge of joy and pride and love welled up in his chest.

His girlfriend was the most talented, incredible woman, and he wanted to put her up on a pedestal so that everyone could see how awesome she was. And yet, she was so humble about her gift and her achievements, going so far as to pretend that he had anything to do with her genius.

He took her by the hands and watched as her eyes went wide, locking with his.

“You are so amazing, Princess,” he cooed, overwhelmed by her greatness and the miracle that a girl so out of his league could be interested in him. “You’re going to win this contest. I know you are. Do you even know how epic you are?”

She opened her mouth to reply but was cut off as Adrien leaned in, catching her lips in a short, sweet, bolstering kiss.

Marinette froze as her brain tried to reboot.

Alya gasped even as she mentally lamented the fact that she hadn’t been recording this momentous occasion.

Nino cursed under his breath, preparing to build his bro back up after Adrien inevitably got shot down.

“I am so proud of you,” Adrien continued obliviously as he pulled out of the kiss. “You’re going to have your own label before you graduate.”

“Adrien!” Marinette hissed as her system came back online, pulling back and turning away.

Adrien blinked, shrinking slightly at her sharp tone. “What? I think it’s true.”

“Adrien, you can’t kiss me like that,” she groaned.

“…Oh, crap,” he breathed, covering his face with his hands. “I did it again. I am so sorry, Marinette. I don’t—”

“—Back up,” Alya interrupted. “‘Again’? As in, this has happened before?”

“Al,” Nino growled warningly.

Alya didn’t seem to hear him. “How many times have you guys kissed behind my back?”

“Three now?” Adrien mumbled miserably.

“Alya, this is serious,” Marinette chided. “I have a boyfriend—a serious boyfriend.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Who I’ve never met and don’t even know the name of. Girl, you may have given up on Adrienette, but I haven’t. If my ship is sailing, I deserve to know.”

“Alya,” Nino snapped even as he put one arm around Adrien’s shoulders and rested the other hand on Adrien’s forearm. “Situational awareness much?”

To Adrien, he directed a soft, comforting, “Hey, it’s okay, Mec. It’s going to be okay.”

“This is kind of a big deal,” Alya huffed. “My bestie could easily have the man of her dreams, but, instead, she’s insisting on pretending to have some fake boyfriend she made up because she’s afraid to accept happiness and the good things the universe has sent to her. Clearly, an intervention is necessary for the good of both of our best friends.”

“He’s not fake!” Marinette retorted vehemently. “I told you, I met him online. We game together, and I only know his username, but he’s a real guy, and we’re really dating, so I can’t be making out with other blondes behind his back.”

“The good of our best friends?” Nino snorted crossly. “Right now, I think the best thing for our best friends is to keep them from getting akumatized.”

“I am so sorry,” Adrien repeated powerlessly, unsure of what else he even could say.

Nino gave him a squeeze. “It’s okay, Mec. Why don’t we head down by the river and try to calm down, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Marinette huffed, making a break for it and striding off towards the bakery. “I’m going home.”

“Marinette!” Alya called and started to chase after her.

Nino sighed, briefly watching them go before getting back on task.

“Come on, Adrien,” he gently coaxed, leading Adrien down onto the walkway along the river.

They found an empty bench and sank onto it, Adrien snuggling up against Nino’s side and dropping his head onto Nino’s shoulder while Nino wrapped an arm around his friend and gave another supportive squeeze.

“It’s okay,” he repeated like a mantra, keeping an eye out for purple butterflies. “It’s okay.”

“I think I just ruined things with the person I’m desperately in love with,” Adrien responded blandly. “I don’t think it’s okay.”

Nino was silent, contemplating for a moment before he amended, “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to make this okay for you, all right? Marinette’s still going to be friends with you, and everything’s going to be fine, yeah?”

Adrien didn’t have the energy to engage in optimism. “I royally screwed up, Nino.”

“Yeah, but what you did wasn’t unforgivable,” Nino tried to comfort. “Things can be patched up. You’ll see. Just hang in there for me right now, okay? Try to think happy thoughts.”

Adrien managed an affirmative grunt.

And then his phone chimed with an incoming text.

There on the screen was a short message that restored his strength.

Marinette had written: “I’m not mad at you. <3 Everything’s fine between us.”

Adrien tipped the screen so that Nino could see and then smiled up giddily at his friend.

“There you go,” Nino chuckled. “Everything’s fine.”

Adrien sighed, sinking back into Nino. “No, it’s not. Wanna hear a secret?”

Nino shrugged. “Sure.”

“I’m Marinette’s boyfriend.”

It felt really good to finally get it out into the air.

Nino took a deep breath, schooling his expression into a cautious neutral before responding. “…The one she plays online games with?”

“Yep. She doesn’t know it’s me, and you can’t tell her. She has her reasons, but she won’t let me reveal my identity to her, so…I keep accidentally kissing her because she’s my girlfriend, but she doesn’t know she’s my girlfriend, so…we end up having scenes like the one you just witnessed,” Adrien wearily informed.

“…Dude,” Nino replied poignantly.

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed.

“You have to tell her,” Nino insisted. “No joke.”

“Yeah,” Adrien repeated. “It’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Nino pursed his lips, trying to process. He wanted to tell Adrien that nothing too bad had happened when Nino and Alya found out about Rena Rouge and Carapace’s secret identities. (In fact, Alya had seen through Carapace right away, so…) And nothing bad had come of Nino being ninety-nine-point-nine-repeating percent sure that Adrien was Chat Noir, so…

Nino took a deep breath and let it out, giving Adrien’s hair a distracted tussle. “Well…if…when you do want to talk about it, I’ll be here. You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything.”

“Yeah,” Adrien breathed, snuggling in closer, resting his head under Nino’s chin. “Yeah, I know. I want to, and I know I can trust you with anything, but…I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay,” Nino agreed, letting his chin rest on top of Adrien’s head. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Adrien hummed, closing his eyes and letting himself relax.

#Adrinette #Adrienette #Marichat #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Chat Noir #Nino Lahiffe #Alya Césaire #Kissing #Writing Prompt #Mikau's Writings #Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses

[astrotum]

reel against your body's borders (i know you hate this place)

Jill Valentine was no stranger to nightmares, not by any stretch of the imagination. They were the kind of nightmares that pulled her out of sleep, leaving her heart fluttering like a bird trying to flee from a cage, leaving her breathless as she sat up straight. She hissed when a stinging pain shot through her spine, gritting her teeth as her world seemed to shrink around her. It was her dreadful stress response, every nightmare, every panic attack ended with her awkwardly hunched over in the uncomfortable space that was her bedroom 

She hated how it made everything around her feel small and fragile, how it made her feel like a monster in comparison, as if she was too big for her body. Jill leaned her head back, hair barely avoiding brushing the ceiling and cursed under her breath. It felt like a curse, hell, it probably was a curse

She felt her face fall when she heard footsteps, suddenly reminding her that Carlos couldn’t find her like this, a towering mess of limbs trying to keep still and hardly move so that her apartment―admittedly already in disrepair―from collapsing around her. Though, Carlos being terrified of her and the way it didn’t set right in her stomach was a far more pressing matter

She swallowed nervously when she met Carlos’s gaze from her doorway, and on instinct, she slumped, carefully, to make herself look smaller. Still looking for any sign of fear in his eyes, waiting for him to bolt. Nothing.

Rather, he walked closer, placing a warm hand on her wrist, which, in turn, made her breath hitch, made her want to pull away “Mind telling me what happened while I was away, Supercop?” his voice was soft, the way it always got when he was comforting her, or when he was soothing a scared child in the shelter

Jill huffed, rolling her eyes at the nickname “Is having a trauma-induced nightmare, and being rudely awoken by it a good excuse?” she answered. Carlos blinked, shaking his head and grinning at the taller of the two “A completely valid excuse, Ms. Valentine” Carlos replied, lightly patting the larger limb beneath his hand

She’d been about to reply, though, a low growl from her middle had beat her to the catch, she winced inwardly. She’d forgotten to eat before she fell asleep, she placed her free hand on her stomach, hoping that in some way it would ease her hunger. It didn’t.

“You didn’t eat again, did you?” Carlos inquired, Jill only grimaced “Y’know, normal food isn’t probably...gonna fill you at that size, right?”

Jill swallowed dryly, knowing what the man was implying “Carlos no, I don’t—What if I hurt you?” Carlos exhaled sharply, looking at her pointedly “Didn’t stop you before” that much was true, and it made the woman pout “I wasn’t starving, before” she retorted.

Carlos understood why she was hesitant, though, she was afraid of hurting him, at her size, it was probably hard not to be afraid of hurting someone ten times smaller than you were “Jill, I promise I’ll be safe in there, just please trust me on this”

Jill set her jaw, huffing “Fine. But if I feel that you’re not safe for a second, you’re getting coughed up” she groused, splaying her hand palm up so that the smaller of the two could climb on, Carlos snorted “Sure, supercop” he replied, delicately moving to climb into her palm, her fingers curling upwards protectively, to keep him from falling off (which, to be frank, he wasn’t planning on it) as she lifted her hand closer to her lips, carefully opening her maw. Revealing soft, pinkish flesh, arched sets of teeth framing the tongue and even darker throat, He wouldn’t lie that no matter how many times he’d been face to face with it. It was still intimidating, but it didn’t dissuade him any less, he knew he’d be safe, was safe. He felt the palm beneath him tilt, feeling himself slide forwards onto the sizeshifter’s tongue, the muscle accepting him gently, not with hungry intent, before sealing him in darkness

Jill couldn’t stop the low rumble that rose from her chest, some predatory instinct rooted deep within proud that nobody could have her prey, have Carlos for themselves. He was all hers, sealed behind her jaws where nobody could find him. Protectiveness swelled in her chest at the thought as she gently prodded at Carlos with her tongue, her makeshift way of asking for Carlos’s approval to swallow

Two taps on the surface of her tongue was all the encouragement she needed, giving Carlos a light, reassuring nudge before she tilted her head and swallowed softly, feeling the man’s form slip comfortably into her throat, lightly tracing the bump with a finger as she felt him him slip past her collarbone, deeper into her chest

Soon enough, Carlos slipped into the warm chamber that seemingly cradled him, the walls gently contorting around him as he shifted to get comfortable in the cavernous space, a sated gurgle resonating in the darkness

Jill swiped her tongue over her lips like a cat, before letting her hand settle protectively over her middle “You good?” she inquired softly, kneading at Carlos beneath her skin. Carlos yawned, before placing a hand on the nearest wall, the flesh quivering at his touch ever slightly “M’good, Supercop, don’t worry” he answered, and the shifter around him hummed, content that the mercenary was safe, as safe as he could be in a place built to break down and destroy, beneath her ribs and under her heart.

#safe vore #soft vore #resident evil vore #resident evil g/t #valeveira #writing #i forgot to post this here #carlos oliveira #jill valentine

[vesuvian-american]

Part 2 of Abandoned in the End

Chapter 2: Spider Lily

Here’s part two, I didn’t like it at first but after a bit of tweaking i’m fairly pleased with myself! I hope you all enjoy! Enjoy it on AO3 too!<3333

Words: 2,010

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since you last saw them in person. You could still feel them though, alive, far away in the other world. Moving on with their lives. You used your magic to check in on them, to watch them. However, each time you did you noticed they changed. They sensed you there, lurking, unwilling to leave them be. Their smiling faces would fall, shivers creeped up their spines, eyes darting around the room to catch a glimpse of you. Not because they missed you, not because they wanted to see you, but because they wished to avoid you at all costs. Turn the other way and run.

Asra’s deck would scream at him to keep his guard up, immediately pulling his attention from whatever he was doing, whether it be spending time with Julian or tending to a customer. A part of you liked seeing him so spooked, another part, a repressed part, ached. It yearned to reach out and comfort Asra, your lifelong friend. He doubled and tripled his protection spells, trying in vain to keep you at bay. You’d bring him back to you eventually, whether it be this life or the next.

Nadia’s headaches returned with your presence, her sixth sense sniffing you out immediately. She was uneasy but she always asked you to leave. She was annoyed, she hated you now and that hurt. If she wasn’t too preoccupied, she’d leave you to walk off somewhere else and distract herself with a task, you’d follow. You never gave her a moments rest, always keeping the beloved Countess on her toes. She was strong though, the new Vesuvia she made was beautiful, you hated not being a part of it.

As much as Julian lacked sleep before, you made it even harder for him now, every time he slept, he remembered you, he cried for you, even yearned for you but he knew better than to get too caught up. You weren’t the same, and he wasn’t going to try and love the new you. He deserved better than that, so he fought. He drowned himself in coffee to avoid thinking about you, running himself into the ground to escape you. Hyperactive, because if even for a second he relaxed, he’d fall asleep and be tormented by your memory.

Muriel, well, he was tricky to get to. He didn’t give you any attention, you knew he could sense you there, watching, but he was good at hiding from his feelings. That is until you started to manifest physically in his presence for a reaction. Using your magic to create doppelgangers of yourself. Hard to ignore seeing the person that saved you from you demons sitting at the foot of your bed at night, looking like how you did in life. He broke down at that, but you didn’t let up. You chased him, always showing up just out of the corner of his sight. You got your reaction, and now the Devil inside craved more.

It was hard for Portia to get back to normal. She missed you, and you missed her too. She was like a warm ray of sunshine after the coldest winter, refreshing. She thought about you constantly, brought you up in conversations, but when she started to notice those around her hated your name being spoken, she stopped. A part of you broke, you thought at least you’d have someone in your corner, even if she was the most afraid of you. Portia bringing up your memory was only a way for her to avoid and ignore the crippling fear she felt thinking about the new you... the better you. She left Vesuvia for a spell another way to hide from the current you, but you still found her. She visited the other princesses of Prakra and you followed. Like a storm on the horizon, ever present doom followed poor Portia. “You can’t forget me” you’d whisper to her.

Now Lucio, he was back to his old ways. Throwing parties and drinking to ignore his pain. He wasn’t Count anymore but he still held a bit of status. You envied him. You wanted to ruin him. You pursued him constantly, scaring him, keeping him in a constant state of fear. Every time he was too drunk to stand properly, you’d lure him to his old ashen wing of the palace, and their you’d lurk. An ever-constant reminder of his failures and treachery. You reveled in the power. You felt strong.

No. You felt weak. They still weren’t here! They were free! Living their lives, not stuck, trapped bound to the Devil. Watching enviously from the sidelines. You hated this new form.

Actually, no. You loved this new form, truly. You’ll bring them back eventually. They won’t ever leave again. It was time to stop fighting. To let the Devil have his way. You may be stuck in this realm but that doesn’t mean they can’t be here stuck with you, you thought. A devilish grin cracked across your face; your crimson eyes glowed.

For this to work you’ll have to back off for a few years. Allow them to live in peace, and think all of this is of the past. What a rude awakening they’ll have coming for them. For the next years you’ll be growing stronger, preserving your strength for the night you’ll drag the back home to hell.

20 years passed, though it felt like no more than a few months for you, you looked the same of course. You took a little peak at them, they couldn’t feel you, this time. You watched them fall in love, grow, heal. Even with all of these changes they were still the same as always. Asra, so outgoing, holding everybody together. Nadia, strong and elegant. Julian, smart as ever, and still so funny. Muriel, quiet but ever kind and gentle. Portia, happy and mischievous, and fun-loving. Lucio, charming and transparent, and still a heavy drinker. You loved it. You loved seeing them like this, thinking they were safe and free, all the better for when you destroy them.

It happened one night. They all slept soundly, safe and cozy in their beds. Except they woke up in the Devil’s realm. Right at your feet, the throne room was unrecognizable. You had destroyed it after they left the last time you saw them decades ago. Burning it to the ground with your thoughts alone.

“Rise and shine my pretties.” You hissed, such glee dancing in your crimson eyes. Muriel was the first to wake, just a split second before the rest. You laughed hysterically as they realized their new circumstances. They were trapped. All of you together forever in the throne room of the Devil’s realm. You couldn’t control yourself, your laughs coming out in bursts and wheezes, they could hear the true Devil’s voice laced behind your own.

“Y/N... What have you done?” Asra asks, sounding so pathetic. Your old friends all cowered close together, trembling with fear, utterly confused.

“Oh Asra, you don’t look so good. I thought you’d age better than this.” You sneered, it was a lie though, of course he was still beautiful and full of life. “If you haven’t all figured it out yet, you’re going to be spending the rest of your days here with me.” You grinned, the smile was unnaturally wide on your face, a wicked grin. Silence ensued but you could hear their hearts races, the sound alone made you tremble, aroused by their fear.

“Don’t all cheer at once, I know how happy you all must be, right?” You joked, snorting out another short laugh before continuing. “So, get as comfortable as you can get here, it’ll be a while.”

“Whatever do you think to accomplish with all of this, Devil?” Nadia spoke, her voice projecting throughout the room. You rolled your eyes dramatically.

“First of all, you know my name Nadia, dear. Secondly, I’ve missed you all, haunting you for those first few months was getting so boring.” You whined, “I need the real you here, with me, to make up for lost time!” You were still suspended a few feet off of the ground by the rope they bound you with, you tried to wiggle free. “So as you can see, I’m still bound to this hell and couldn’t come visit.”

“...That never stopped you from showing yourself.” Muriel spoke in a hush tone, making a point to avoid your fiery gaze.

“Well, love, if you weren’t being so proactive in ignoring me, I wouldn’t have to have worked myself up, stretching my magic all the way to you like that. Don’t blame me.” You stared at him intensely, watching him shrink in on himself as much as he could. Even as Asra spoke you still were persistent in staring at the gentle giant, seeing the fear settle deep into his bones brought you happiness, you waited so long to see him in person again.

“This isn’t you Y/N! Let us go!” Asra shouted, rushing over to Muriel’s side to hold him.

“I know this isn’t me Asra, isn’t that what I was trying to convince you all of 20 years ago? Hm? Was it not!?” You shouted, fine cracks stretching up the walls. “I begged you all to let me go, I begged for you to see past this hideous form and to the real me! So, if I’m stuck here forever, you all will be too! This is your fault.” You struggled against your ropes, but they only tightened.

“Ugh honestly! What did you do to me? These ropes are really starting to work my nerves.” You carried on as if this were just normal conversation, before Julian finally spoke.

“We’ll be here f-forever?” He asked, stuttering his words.

“Yes, beloved, forever. I won’t harm you all, I love you too much. Though, you all should really consider setting me free so that it can truly feel like old times.” You cooed.

“IT CAN’T BE LIKE OLD TIMES!” Lucio shrieked, shoving a golden clawed finger in your direction. He had the nerve to talk to you like that, after all he's done.

“How dare you speak! How dare you speak like that to me!” You voice made the entire temple vibrate, threatening a collapse. The rest of the group shrunk back; Portia started to cry.

You sighed, the magic you expelled was taking a toll on your patience. “Don’t cry Portia, I’m sorry for Lucio’s foul behavior, you know how he gets.” You tried to sound as sincere as you could, but something in you wanted to laugh in their faces again.

The face she makes in response tells you all you need to know. Talk won’t help. “Okay, okay! I’m only kidding. But I assure you, I’m still me, I’m just a little bitter for the last two decades in solitude. You all moved on and fell in love. While I’m here alone watching from the sidelines.” Your head hung low, the anger your felt years ago was back at a boiling point. Honestly, you had to spell it out for them again?

“Lucio caused this whole mess but even he’s free, I saved the world and I’m here. That hardly seems fair. But, I’m willing to let bygones be bygones if you set me free from these ropes and allow me to move on with you all!” You give them a winning grin, and wiggle your fingertips and feet. That’s all the movement you can manage given your circumstances.

You give your word that won’t harm them and you remind them that you can’t lie as an Arcana. Over time, you promise them more freedoms, things do start to become a new normal. Not long after that, do they forget their days of freedom, they forget why you’re even tied up to begin with. You’re free. Free with your friends, whom you’ve granted immortality to, so long as they’re in the Arcana realms.

You’re all together again, forever. Forever together.

#the arcana #the arcana game #fic #main 6 #angst #devil!apprentice #abandoned in the end #part 2

[feistypaants-archived]

Between The Pipes [Chapter 5]

Rating: M Words: 1742 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: a short boi, sorry! .... hopefully still semi-enjoyable...  decided to denote a POV change mid chapter with a bigger break in paragraphs. Hope that’s fine!

Thanks for all the love y’all are the best!!

Enjoy!

Sven had kept true to his word, and after practice for the last few days he had been inviting her out to lunch or dinner to help her learn the basics of the sport. In return, she happily bought him whatever food or drink he wanted. 

“So that, and icing, are two major things that will cause a stoppage of play.”

Anna spent a lot of time nodding and writing notes these days. She wanted to prove that she could do more than just smile pretty for the camera, wanted to prove that she could figure this all out and be an actual reporter for the team. Or at least more than just a recognizable face. 

“Other than penalties.”

“Yeah, those too,” Sven chuckled, nodding. “And unfortunately, some of our boys really like to get penalties.” 

She couldn’t help but laugh. From seeing how they behaved in practice, it wouldn’t really surprise her to see a long list of penalties per game. “Hey, as long as they get it done, right?”

“Right.”

He leaned over, grabbing the pen and notepad from her before drawing a diagram of the rink. “So… here’s the anatomy of an ice rink.”

They spent another thirty minutes discussing every marking on the ice, learning who was positioned where, what faceoff circle was used when, what all the marks around the net meant, and every other little thing that she questioned him about. Anna’s brain was starting to hurt. It wasn’t complicated, but it was just so much.

“I think it’s time for another drink,” she laughed, twisting in her chair and looking around for the server.

A smile was on her face until her eyes landed on him, walking through the door with a cocky grin pulling at his lips. She felt her cheeks flush, and a thick lump form in her throat as her fingers tightened on the back of the chair.

Sure, she had been seeing him at the rink, but rarely out of gear, and rarely… this put together.

His dark wash jeans were tight and fitted around his thighs and ass, a cream colored Henley stretched over his chest, and it was all topped off with a warm, all-the-colors-of-autumn flannel rolled up past his forearms. Sighing deeply, Anna bit at her bottom lip, startling when a finger tapped her shoulder. 

“You’re drooling.”

Anna jumped, wiped at her lower lip, and frowned as her lipstick smeared across the back of her hand. “What?” She laughed, pressing her hands flat against the table. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Fuck, did he know?! 

Sven grinned and raised his hand in the air. “Kris! Over here!”

Anna shrunk, face beet red and thumb raised to her mouth, teeth chewing nervously on the nail. Why was she getting so flustered? She had been pretty successfully avoiding him over the last few days, knowing that she was horribly embarrassed after the incident in the weight room, and knowing that the second he opened his mouth she’d probably be irritated again. 

But lord, she liked to look. 

She could feel his presence behind her, looming over the back of her chair as he moved to sit in the only free chair at the table, his hand skimming the backrest of her seat. “Why’d you invite her?” He started, jerking his thumb towards her as his eyes locked on Sven. 

“Well, to be fair, she and I were already here, and I invited you.” Sven lifted one brow, frustration obvious on his features. “Didn’t I tell you to try and stop being an asshole?”

Anna couldn’t help the laugh that came out as more of a snort, and Kristoff’s eyes jerked over to her, looking her up and down quickly before he rolled his eyes.

“We were going over the basics. Any brilliant bits of insight you’d like to bestow upon her?” Sven seemed as if he was trying to keep it casual, but Anna could sense a tiny bit of tension rising around the table. 

It was probably because of her. 

Kristoff lifted one hand to signal to the curious waiter that he was ready, and quickly ordered a beer. “Insight?” He laughed, leaning forward with his arm pressed against the table top. “Maybe don’t get a job in a sport you know nothing about?”

Anna felt her shoulders tighten, and clenched her fingers on the table edge. She would not let him get to her. She would not let this asshole get under her skin. 

“Another great piece of advice. Thanks so much.”

“Kristoff.” Sven’s voice held a warning, as if the strict captain was starting to emerge. “I’m serious.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, taking a swig of his beer as soon as it came. Then stayed quiet. As if he decided it was better to say nothing at all, because he probably didn’t have anything nice to say anyway.

Anna felt herself shrinking, felt herself frustrated and upset from one sentence. All he had to do was open his mouth, and her good mood was shot. “You know…” Sven turned to her, and Anna smiled while reaching down to grab her bag. “I should probably go. Thanks,” she patted his shoulder and moved to stand.

“Oh, come on,” Sven leaned further back in his chair, and she jumped slightly when he kicked Kristoff under the table. “You don’t have to go on account of this dickwad.” 

Kristoff was practically glaring at Sven.

“Seriously, right Kristoff?”

Kristoff rolled his eyes and lifted the bottle to his lips, voice monotone and clearly sarcastic. “Oh, please, don’t go.”

Taking in a deep breath, Anna raised her bag to her shoulder, straightening her posture. “No, it’s fine. I’m very clearly not wanted here. But, Sven,” she turned to him then, leaning forward and squeezing his shoulder again. “Seriously, thanks so much. Can we meet again tomorrow?”

He smiled and nodded. “Maybe do a mock-interview?”

Anna felt herself lighten. Sven was a good friend, and she was grateful that he wasn’t hitting on her like some of the other players were. “Sounds great.”

She stood straight again and turned to Kristoff. “Kristoff, a pleasure as always.”

“Always. See ya.”

An exaggerated eye roll and then she stalked off, hands gripping the strap of her bag tighter. She felt a burning on her back, and itch on her neck, and she scurried out even faster, a blush rising on her cheeks. 

God damn it.

—

-

—

Kristoff let out a low whistle as she left. So sue him, she had a great ass and she was wearing these tight, high waisted jeans that did nothing but emphasize it, and boy oh boy he was completely fine with looking. He laughed as she darted out of sight, and turned his attention back to Sven, who was glaring at him with disdain. 

“What?” Kristoff grinned, tapping his bottle on the table. “What!”

“You know what, you prick.”

Rolling his eyes and reaching over to steal a fry from Sven’s plate. ”She’s a spoiled little rich girl who doesn’t deserve the job she got.”

Sven kicked him again, eyebrows furrowing. “At least she’s trying! She could just not care.”

Kristoff scoffed, crossing his arms and slumping lower in his chair. Sven was right, but he wouldn’t admit that out loud. 

“Look, man,” Sven started, clasping his hands together in front of him on the table. “I know you’re like super weird whenever you feel like something could affect your career, but just…” he rolled his neck, curls bouncing with the movement. “She’s a nice girl, I don’t think she asked for this job. Besides, it’s not like she’s doing anything that’s hard. Just interviewing. Anyone could do that job.”

He let out a hmph before scratching at the back of his head.

“Give her an actual chance, dude.”

Kristoff didn’t know exactly what it was about her that was getting so deep under his skin. It wasn’t just the attraction, right? He’d been attracted to other girls who worked at the rink, and that never got him quite like this.

Was it the threat that she was related to the owner? That letting her get close could just result in more hurt? In career-ending fights?

Or was it the way she could handle him, kick him back down a notch, the sheer fire in her personality that made him sweat with just a glance?

He groaned, leaning forward and pressing his head against the table. “Fine, fine. I’ll…” he swallowed, rolling his head to look up towards Sven with sad little eyes. “I’ll try. But I’m not promising anything.”

Sven clapped a hand on his back, grinning. “It’s all I’m asking for, buddy.”

Let’s see how long this lasts. 

—

Eventually he got home, a few drinks later, and sat down in his office to watch back some tapes. He needed to figure out where he was lacking last season and make it better. 

At least, that was his intention.

But then he wound up on her social media accounts, and couldn’t stop scrolling. Photo after photo of her in different places, smiling brightly, posing, showing off outfits, and all around just writing about her experiences. Far enough down, there was a photo of her in an L.A. Kings jersey, and he felt his features contort with disgust. Poor choice, in his opinion.

Beyond that she had a few pictures with some assorted players, and he felt like some of his suspicions were being confirmed. A girl like that, looking like she does, surrounded by horny hockey players that would do pretty much anything to have sex with her… there was no way she wasn’t taking advantage of it. Especially with how she posed with them, with how their hands rested low on her hips. Especially with how she was putting herself on display.

That, he realized, was what was bothering him. 

She knew he was attracted to her, and fuck he knew she was attracted to him, and she must be plotting. But there was no way. He would not have sex with the owner’s daughter. He would not risk his career like that. No matter how hot she was. Nope. 

She would not win.

He’d be nice. 

But that was it.

He could handle this, easy peasy.

Until the next day, when Sven asked him to fill in for lunch with Anna, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

#btpfic #sorry this one is so short #just didnt want to swap back to Anna’s POV again #meh

[ask-de-writer]

Several of my stories have mentioned Canbe, a mortal living in the Borderland of Nightmare  with the Lamia Flowering Ash.  This is the tale of how they met.

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Return to Tales to Read AFTER the Lights are OUT!

The Day After Nightmare Night

by 

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

2284 words

© 2016 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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I really should have known better.  It was the day AFTER Nightmare Night.  Morgan and I were out strolling around, looking at the remaining decorations and assorted minor pranks that had been played.  

Sawnax's Lumber Yard office had got it by at least two or three pranksters.  It was covered in ribbons of cheap toilet paper and the windows had been painted over with egg whites and liberally dusted with dirt.  It was understandable, if not really excusable.   He was always too cheap to put out a Foal Bowl.

Passing Caramel Treat's Sweets, we saw that Ponyville's genuine werewolf was still in the form of the gigantic Everfree Ridgeback Wolf that was her when she was not a pony.  Smiling, she was passing out treats to any who were still in costume.  

A good many foals knew of her habit and were lined up, chanting, “Nightmare Night has passed away!  Now it is Nightmare Day!  Please give us something sweet to bite, to celebrate the daylight!”

She was happily giving treats out and posing for pictures with the assorted little ghouls, alicorns, very phony deer, liches, and witches.

We watched for a little and went on our way.

It was not long before we were passing the shoulder high stone wall of the Ponyville Cemetery.  We found a perfectly lovely and unusual gray mare staring at us, over the wall.  She smiled, keeping her lips shut, and said with mild humor, “So, looking over the wall between life and death?”

“Sort of,” Morgan replied.  “Canbe and I are out looking at all of the assorted pranks that have been pulled, that's all.”

She kept pace with us, she on the inside, and we out.  Her head swayed in a sort of undulating way, instead of bobbing a little, like a pony's usually does.  

She offered, “Are you just looking, or are you doing anything to help fix the pranks? I am not sure why, but some ponies think that it is fun to mess up the graveyard.  Do they think that they will disturb the rest of those who have passed beyond life or are they trying to upset the living by knocking over or wrecking grave markers?”

Actually looking across the wall, at something besides the lovely mare's head and shapely neck, I commented, “I don't see any damage here.  What happened?”

Sadly, she replied, “You can't see it from here.  There is a really ancient part of the cemetery.  Nopony knows how old it is.  It is far older than Ponyville.  It has crypts, tombs, mausoleums and markers that nopony around here now knows how to read.  It is over the hill, there, where those big trees show their tops.”  

She pointed to an area that I had never paid attention to before.

I sort of shook my head in surprise.  “I did not even know that those trees were in the cemetery!  Old stones that nobody can read?  That sounds really neat, actually.  If I come to help you, would you mind if I made some rubbings of those stones?  Maybe a scholar like Twilight Sparkle could read them.”

The gray mare raised her eybrows in polite surprise.  “That would be a true boon, if she could.  So many old things are simply forgotten.”

Morgan snorted, “Never could figure out why anypony bothers with history!  Basically, it is a pack of lies told by the winners to make them look better than they were!”

The gray mare gave Morgan a disturbed look.  “That is partly true.  The truth of what did happen can often be found out.  It is the best understanding of the past that can serve to guide you and help you to avoid the mistakes that your ancestors made.”

Bitterly Morgan snapped back, “I was one of those 'mistakes' that somepony made!  I was abandoned on the steps of the Ponyville Orphanage without even a note!  I don't want to know who my mother or dad was!”

Morgan rudely turned his rump and stomped off.

The lovely gray mare turned to me and gave me a beseeching look.  “Will you come to help us?  We cannot undo the work of the vandals alone.”

I shrugged and opened the gate.  Entering I offered, “Sure, why not?  What is to fear now that it is broad daylight?”

The mare had hidden behind a large stone monument.  She pointed a shapely foreleg and hoof skyward.  “That is a common misconception.  So long as the Moon of Nightmare remains in the sky, we can be abroad.  That, I fear may tell you who you are coming to help.

“I will guarantee your safety if you do come to help us do what we cannot do ourselves alone.”

I paused to think over this development.  “I will make you a small deal, my sweet pony. Show me yourself.  If you are an undead, as you have said, and guarantee my safety, I will aid you as well as I can to fix what the vandals have damaged.”

She nodded gracefully and slithered out from behind the stone.  Her body, from the navel back, was that of a huge serpent.  “As you can see, I am a Lamia. Had I not guaranteed your safety, I could easily crush and rend you. You may still leave and I will thank you for even considering giving aid to such as I.”

I kind of shivered all over but gamely offered, “Lead the way, my Lady Lamia.  I am known as Canbe.”

She led me across the hill.  If I remembered correctly, the back wall of the cemetery was down the hill only a little ways.  Before we got to where the wall should be, I noticed that the Lamia cast no shadow from the light of the sun.  She did, however, cast a shadow.  It was from the light of the moon, still in the sky, though getting low.

We passed under the trees without coming to the cemetery wall.  Long streamers of moss like stuff hung from branches that almost seemed to move of their own volition.  The foliage of them was a far darker green than it had appeared when seen from the street in Ponyville.  It almost looked black.  That was when I noticed that nothing here, not even me, cast any shadow but one from the full Moon of Nightmare which was now at zenith, rather than nearly set.

I nearly fled when I noticed that.  My promise held me.

I was led to a fallen obelisk about two or two and a half meters long.  I saw the marks where it had been pried from its base.  I pointed out, “I cannot lift this, it is too heavy for me.”

Several voices replied, “We can lift it if you will help us.  Lay your mortal hooves on it and keep them on it until we have restored the stone to its place.  This work takes the cooperation of both the mortal and those beyond.”

As I laid hooves to it, a little past the center, the stone was seized by hooves of several undead sorts.  I did try to help with the lift, but it was the strength of those ponies who were long past the grave who actually did most of it.  As the stone was properly replaced, the break appeared to simply vanish.  The stone stood tall and proud again.

As we were walking to the next damaged monument, I stumbled on a fallen slab of stone.  A simple grave stone.  I paused and asked, “What about this one?  It has fallen too.”

The Lamia looked back and replied, “True, it has.  Time did that, not vandals.  You agreed to help us to undo the vandalism.  This goes past your agreement.”

I sort of surprised myself by replying, as I scraped at the moss grown stone to get a better grip, “Not quite so, my lady Lamia.  Time is the greatest vandal of all.  Let us set to rights all that we can.  Even the simplest grave deserves to be remembered.”

The many undead here all looked at me thoughtfully and agreed, “What he wants to do goes beyond our agreement.  We should do the same for him.”  If appearance was any guide, faces that had not smiled since they died smiled in agreement.

As we were lifting the stone back up to standing in a well dug socket hole, one of the liches actually shed a tear.  He stated, “This stone and grave are mine.  Thank you, Mortal.”

I think that the others were astounded when I held his apparently rotting body and said, “You are welcome.  Now I am doubly glad that we did it for you.”

We all went on, from grave to crypt to mausoleum fixing and setting things to rights.  If I could touch even so much as a rotting bit of an ancient oaken and iron bound door, some one among them was able to make it whole again. We even did the same for the decayed remains of coffins in the ancient crypts.

It did take a long time to do.  I was bone tired at the end of our labor.  Not hungry. Not thirsty.  Proud.  The ancient necropolis was now well tended and all was as it ought to be.  

I looked up.  The Moon of Nightmare was unchanged in the sky.  It was still at its zenith.

My lovely Lamia saw my glance and spoke softly, “Our lives spring from and are ruled by Her.  The Princess of the Night.  We may be of the Nightmare Realm but our Ruler is not without compassion.

“We did notice something about you as you helped us to restore our ancient homes. Not only did you not shrink from us, going so far as to give comfort and share happiness with a zombie, you appear to like us.  Is that true?”

That sort of opened up my eyes.  I had been getting along with these once living beings far better than I ever had with any living ponies.  It just took Lamia's question to make me notice it!

I nodded sort of slowly as it sank in.  “That is true, my lovely Lamia.  If there was some way to stay with you, my friends, and keep this gift of helping you all, I would have no desire to return to ponies who do not care about me at all.”

The Lamia stood up, supported by her elegantly coiled snake body and said softly, “My name, Canbe, is Flowering Ash.  You have asked a boon of Our Princess of the Night and we in no way forced you to it or tricked it from you.

“Do you truly ask of Princess Luna, Ruler of the Night, Harbinger of Dreams and Sometimes the True Embodiment of All Nightmare, the boon to stay with us, keeping the ability to aid us in preserving our places of rest, our homes?”

I did not hesitate, “If it can be done, Flowering Ash, I do ask that boon of Princess Luna.”

There grew a shadow on the Moon of Nightmare overhead.  Gliding down to a landing as silent as a dream was Princess Luna.  She alighted before me and smiled.

“Canbe, I have favorably heard your request.  You are a creature of the Day.  A pony who grew up under the sway of my Sister, Celestia.  Would you renounce her to fulfill your request?”

I thought carefully and she gave me the time to do it.  “Princess Luna, you and your Sister Celestia are two parts of a whole.  I had not heard that you two are in contest.”  

I gathered the lovely Flowering Ash on one side and the zombie whose grave I had restored on the other into a hug.  Still holding them, I went on, “Knowing that you two Sisters are not in contest, I will willingly do whatever is necessary to fulfill my request.”

Princess Luna bowed her horn to just touch my forelock.  A fine wisp of midnight magic, shot through with stars flowed between us.

She straightened and proclaimed, “Canbe, as the subject of us both, Myself and my sister Celestia, you may stay here with your friends.  Here, you will retain your Mortal Gift to aid them.  Here, you will not age.  Here, you will not hunger.  Here, you will not thirst.  When you do much, as with this night's labor, you will tire.  A little rest will cure that.

“You may leave here and return at will but only through the Ponyville Cemetery.  While you are away, you will age.  While away, you will hunger.  While away, you will thirst.  While away, you will tire from labor as you always have.

“You have chosen more wisely than you know.”

With that, Princess Luna spread her huge wings and made a powerhouse of a downstroke. She flew up, seemingly to the Moon of Nightmare.

Luna alighted on a patio of the Palace of Canterlot and trotted into the Dining hall. There she found Princess Celestia happily munching on chocolate topped donuts.

Princess Celestia's snicker suddenly turned to a stricken look as she saw Luna's expression!

With a grin that showed her perfect teeth, Luna reported, “I WON!  

“Canbe did NOT renounce me when he was put in with those Nightmares!  Most interestingly, he chose to STAY with them but he was clever enough not to renounce YOU either!

“Now pay up!”

Luna hoofed over a substantially sized tray.

Glumly, Princess Celestia began to pile on tan topped pastries.  She returned the tray to Luna with a sad, “Farewell, my butterscotch treats!”

~~THE END~~

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#THE DAY AFTER NIGHTMARE NIGHT #MLP Fan Fiction #Tales to read AFTER the Lights are OUT #Written by De Writer

[proherostories]

A Ridiculous Notion

AO3 LINK

WC - 1327

Archive Warnings - Rated T & Choose not to use Archive Warnings.

TW - Blood & Injury

Pairing - DabiHawks

Summary - Dabi’s lips were pulled tight and he crouched, going quiet and thoughtful. How funny that the first time he would touch Hawks’ skin was because the dumbass had gotten hurt.

Notes - Written for "#writersmonth2020" from tumblr

Day 5 Prompt = Soulmates

Written for "#writersmonth2020" from THIS POST

Ending up a vigilante was never something Dabi had anticipated. Then again, who did? Sure there were some kids who grew up wanting to become a vigilante because they didn’t like the ‘hero-villain’ aspect, and would prefer following the grey road.

Dabi didn’t have a problem with that. He helped people like that, actually. Why not, since he was right here doing the same thing? It helped a lot that he had contacts in the police department.

The difficult part was avoiding the Hero Commission. The ones who tried to shut people like him down because he didn’t ‘fit the mold’. 

Fuck the mold.

Unfortunately, that also meant they tried sending people under their thumb to track him down. 

Unfortunately, that meant meeting with Hawks, the one and only number two hero.

They’d crossed paths three months ago, and it felt like he wasn’t able to shake him ever since. Something felt off. It was as if there was a magnet pulling them together. As cliche and vomit-inducing that was, it was true. It pissed him off, and he had plenty of arguments with the goddamn bird, but none of them got physical. They never touched. Closest was ever three feet apart.

Recently, however...something was changing. It started when the arguments turned into more playful banter seemingly without either of them noticing. That had been around two months. Now Hawks was more quiet than usual; it freaked him out a little, but Dabi found it easier to talk to lost kids and angry teenagers than it was to the stupid bird. 

Feelings. His own were closely guarded and he could tell so were Hawks’. Even if a begrudging understanding was formed, they were both terrible at it. Dabi even more so since leaving the Todoroki household. He could be ‘Touya’ for family holidays to make Fuyumi and Natsuo happy, but he hated running into his father.

Grunting, leaning back against the brick wall, he turned his head up to the starless sky above the alleyway. He’d been busy, trying to keep unfortunate souls off the street so they didn’t get in trouble with the Hero society. All he wanted was to reduce the amount of people going through what he’d gone through. He couldn’t save everyone, he knew that going into this, but he could find satisfaction in helping those he was able to. 

A feather floated in front of his face, nearly making him cross-eyed as he snapped back and suddenly focused on it. There was a soft, warm laugh and he looked over after snatching the dumb feather out of the air. Hawks’ breath hitched and he narrowed his eyes at him. It wasn’t the first time he’d grabbed an offending red feather, but the way Hawks leaned against the opposite wall had him frowning. “What’s the matter with you, birdie?”

“Ah...nothing.” Hawks was off one foot, but it wasn’t casual. Dabi had been around the block, he could tell he was favoring that side. His hands were dug into his pockets, and Dabi came over to him, lips thin as he raked his eyes up and down the other. “Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not-” he froze when Dabi got in his face, golden eyes widening. He sucked in a breath and because he was so close, Dabi noticed the grimace as tiny of a movement it was.

“You’re not fine, stupid bird. Where are you hurt?” He reached for his coat, though didn’t force it open in case he aggravated whatever injury there was.

Hawks smacked his hand away, leather gloves loud against flesh, “It’s not like you care so why are you trying?”

What Dabi was taken aback by was the venom in his voice and he blinked slowly at him. “What makes you assume I don’t care? You know what I do. I do exactly what you do, just in a different way. We’ve had this talk before.”

Hawks’ feathers ruffled and he seemed to shrink in on himself, digging his hands deeper into his pockets and hunching his shoulders up, “I’ve met a couple of people you helped. One of them works at a convenience store I frequent.”

Dabi arched a brow at him, “Yet you don’t want my help.”

“You don’t need to, hotshot. It’s not necessary.”

Dabi rolled his eyes and grabbed at his coat regardless, pushing it aside and he grunted at the sight of the blood by his hip. “Not necessary my ass. This is fresh.”

“Yeah ‘cause-” Hawks was cut off as Dabi pressed his hand against it, moving the torn flight suit to look at the gash closer, forcing him to move his arms to give him more room, “-I pulled it open while flying.”

Dabi’s lips were pulled tight and he crouched, going quiet and thoughtful. How funny that the first time he would touch Hawks’ skin was because the dumbass had gotten hurt. A tingling warmth as if his Quirk was activating crawled up his arm and he froze. Suddenly, his heart was pounding and it was hard to keep his breathing even.

He’d heard about this while out and around among the people. A ridiculous notion, but it had key factors to it. Soulmates. Now he was thinking about it and taking all of his encounters with Hawks into account…

Swearing softly, his eyes flicked up and blue met gold. “I know you carry a first aid kit in your pockets.” He reached into one of his own and pulled out his own, “Sit your ass down and take your jacket off.”

“Unless you want me naked I can’t take off my suit.” Hawks snorted but did as he was told, getting a matching kit from the cargo pants pocket. He used his jacket as a cushion to sit on, leaving his entire upper body basically bare.

There was a throb through his body and Dabi let a long breath out, “It doesn’t matter. Just your jacket, and kept your arms out of the way.” Grunting as he got down, he opened both boxes and went about cleaning it of the blood and whatever could’ve been in the gash. Once ointment and gauze was on, he started on the wrappings, “You better go straight home after this, birdy. No crazy stunts, twists or turns. This needs to heal or your precious Hero work will be affected, so think about calling tomorrow off, too.”

“How’d you even know I was hurt?” he clicked his tongue.

“When you leaned against the wall, it wasn’t your casual cockiness. You were favoring this side and didn’t look normal.”

Hawks snorted, “Oh? What’s normal?”

“A pinched expression, like you were wincing but keeping your face neutral. I know a mask when I see one. Takes one to know one, after all.” He fought the reflex to lift his lips at Hawks’ bark of laughter. “Stay still.”

“S-Sorry,” he kept the shaking of his body to a minimum, “So you’re admitting you keep things locked away, too, yeah?”

“I’m not going to get all touchy-feely with you in an alleyway, birdy.”

“No need to, hotshot.” He shook his head, “It’s just...nice to know. Another time, maybe.”

Dabi rolled his eyes and finished up, pinning the bandages together so they wouldn’t move, “Sure, whatever you say.” He bore into him with his intense gaze, “Don’t be so stupid and maybe it’ll happen.” Maybe it was realizing they were soulmates, but Dabi genuinely felt ill seeing Hawks covered in blood. “Be more careful.”

“Yes mom.” Hawks winced openly when Dabi smacked him upside the head, “Sorry, sorry. No need to abuse me.” He was perceptive enough to watch Dabi freeze up and his face went icy. The Hero’s throat bobbed, “Hey...I didn’t mean it.”

A deep breath through his nose and out his mouth, “I know. Another time, maybe.”

This time Hawks smirked, expression softer than Dabi’d seen it before, “Maybe.”

#hotwings #dabihawks #dabi bnha #hawks bnha #keigo takami #writersmonth2020 #soulmates #soulmate au #ao3 #bnha writing #Bnha writing blog #blood and injury tw