#I had a whole grand speech in my head about how I would hold her accountable for this mistake

[neverendingford]

.

[bigfootsboytoy]

Part two of this story, where Robin discovers Steve’s type. A lot of people seemed interested in more, so here you go! 

The conversation doesn’t go quite the way Robin is expecting it. She’s fully prepared for Steve to launch into saying how confused he is because he’s feeling weird pants feelings for Eddie, but how does that work because he likes girls? She’s been mentally preparing herself for that exact discussion since she watched Eddie Munson call her best friend ‘Big Boy’ in the middle of committing grand theft auto. So when Steve starts talking, curled up on the gross linoleum tile of Family Video, she’s taken by surprise. She doesn’t even get the chance to answer his question before he’s throwing her prepared speech out the metaphorical window. 

“That’s stupid, you already told me that. Sharon Parker in the 5th grade, holding hands for Red Rover, blah blah blah, I know that. But like…Have you ever acted different around a girl, and then one day, you realize it’s because you like her? Like, you had a crush on a girl without even realizing it? Does that make any sense?” 

It takes Robin a second to reboot, but the second she manages, Steve throws her even further off track. 

“It’s just, Tommy H came by the other day, and he said some stuff that really has me thinking and-” 

Robin can’t stop herself. As soon as she hears a name other than Eddie Munson, she has a hand out covering Steve’s mouth. He gives her a look, surprised and confused. Maybe a little annoyed. She valiantly ignores him because what he just said has her head spinning, and she needs to put a stop to it right now. 

“Steve. My best friend in the whole universe. I’m here for whatever you need and whatever you might be figuring out about yourself. You know I’m going to support you 100% no matter what happens but…Please. PLEASE tell me that you didn’t just discover you have a crush on TOMMY H! He isn’t even your type, Steve! He isn’t even in the ballpark of your type! He’s so far off it’s honestly kind of laughable and-” 

Now it’s Steve who puts a hand over her mouth. 

“Jesus, Robin! First of all, gross. I’m not into Tommy, okay? Never gonna happen, not in a million years. And second, what the hell do you mean ‘my type?’ What the hell would you know about my type?” 

Robin carefully removes his hand from her face and shakes her head. She has absolutely no clue where this conversation is going, but there’s still a chance it can work its way somewhere good. Somewhere Munson-related. And she owes it to Steve to listen to his crisis properly. 

“Nevermind, forget that. What happened with Tommy?” 

“Okay well, he came over, like I said. He was super wasted, and I guess he and Carol broke up? And he started talking about when we were friends, and how he always used to try and get closer to me. He said he almost asked me if I wanted to practice kissing once? And he talked about like, trying to touch me all the time, trying to make me laugh? Basically saying he had a crush on me, which was super weird.” 

Robin nodded, because really, she had no idea what to say to that. 

“And then he kissed me. Which was kind of gross because he tasted like whisky and he was being all sloppy, like he wanted to eat my face. But…” 

“But?” 

“It wasn’t as gross as I would have expected I guess.” 

“I thought you said you didn’t like him!” 

“I don’t! It just, wasn’t a totally horrible kiss okay? Only a little horrible.” 

Robin sighed and let her head tip back against the wall. 

“Okay, I’m not seeing your dilemma yet. Tommy liking you and kissing you is kind of weird sure, but it doesn’t change anything about you.” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, and he let out a puff of air. He looked small in this bathroom, scared in a way that Robin hated. They had faced down monsters, torture, long shifts with Keith. A conversation with his best friend should never have Steve looking that afraid, ever. 

She reached out and took his hand in her, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Hey, it’s okay Steve. Tell me what’s going on in that head.” 

“It’s just…Some of what Tommy said. About how he tried to get closer to me, to touch me and make me laugh and shit? I guess I realized that I’m doing that stuff. With somebody else. And if Tommy did it because he liked me then…” 

“You think it might mean you like this person. This…guy?” 

“Yeah. This guy.” 

There it was, the Eddie Munson of it all. Because Robin only knew of one guy that Steve spent his time with and would be trying to be touchy and close with. She had watched it happen with her own eyes, the way Steve would look for reasons to lean past Eddie, to put a hand on his shoulder, his back, once getting brave and putting a hand on his waist. She’d watched Eddie do the exact same things around Steve, too.

Part of her almost just comes out and tells Steve, that she knows who he’s talking about. Except he still looks unsure. He looks like he wants to throw up a little, and Robin has to fix that. 

“You know it’s okay right? For you to like this guy?” 

“I know. It’s just weird, to realize I might like him that way. Normally I can figure out when I’m into someone.” 

“Well, normally you aren’t friends with the people you’re into first. That makes it confusing.” 

“And I’m normally into people with boobies.” 

“That too.” 

Steve lets out a tiny laugh, and it makes Robin beam. Something about Steve is lighter now, like somethings been lifted off his chest, something that’s been there for a really long time without him knowing. She wants to tell him how much she’s loves him. How much she cares about him and supports him. She wants to tell him about all her research, and fully explain to him her findings when it comes to ‘his type.’ 

She wants to tell him that she knows the guy he likes is Eddie. That she thinks Eddie might like him too. 

The ‘ring for service’ bell ruins her chance at saying any of it. 

She and Steve both clamber off the floor, adjusting their vests before exiting the bathroom to greet whoever keeps ringing the stupid bell over and over again. Robin can’t decide if it’s the best luck in the world, or the worst, when it’s Eddie Munson himself standing at the counter. 

She leans towards best luck when she sees the way Steve’s cheeks go red.

A few people asked to be tagged if I did a part 2, so hopefully I do that right! I’ve got a few more parts planned, so if anybody else wants to be tagged let me know and I’ll do my best!

@kaiscove​ @wolfstarlights​  @awkwardgravity1​ @anonymousbandgirl​  @f1ct1onwh0re

[unicyclehippo]

One word prompt for hawkeye/bishova: tense

(Also yay! Excited for you to try to write for them! Love ur writing and also hawkeye 🫶)

ok just a short one while i have my coffee. in the same vague story as regret & stumble

//

so far, kate’s talked for the whole drive.

it’s not something she’s particularly proud of, okay? it’s just a fact. she does start to think she would make an incredible politician purely on her filibuster flair but the thought passes, a little because she can’t think of anything worse than politics, a little because she starts feeling guilty that her present filibustering isn’t some grand speech in defence of civil liberties but a desperate attempt to fill the car with noise so clint won’t ask her questions.

‘—and that’s obviously where everything started to go wrong, because apparently the bell wasn’t fixed in the tower properly and the arrow doesn’t weight that much—what am i saying, you know how much arrows weigh, and this was just a flute14, they’re like, what three-eighty?’

‘three eighty-five.’

kate turned in the seat to stare at him, mouth agape. she hadn’t seen him turn his hearing aid off but she had just figured, after three hours of this, that he’d managed to tune her out. she didn’t think he was really listening.

oh well. in for an arrow, in for a quiver full.

‘right! so i didn’t think it would bring a tower down. obviously. but it turns out that the weight of the arrow is nothing and it’s actually the force you gotta calculate, which, i should obviously have realised but yknow what they say about hindsight and shooting arrows at bell towers. i guess the bell wasn’t built to be rung because when i used the snapshut head—‘

‘snapshut?’

‘yeah. they have a claw on the front so when you hit something, it clicks the trigger and closes the claw around it.’

clint tilts his head. ‘huh.’

‘anyway, the arrow pulled the rope and the rope pulled the bell and the bell pulled the beam and the beam pulled the top of the tower and everything kinda…collapsed from there.’

if she had to pick when things started going wrong this year, that was probably it. or was it just the latest in a long string of things going wrong? there was an unhappy thought.

‘did you design the snapshut head?’

kate beamed at clint. she was so happy he was her partner—he knew she needed to talk. talk about taking one for the team.

‘no, i saw last years olympics champ using something similar. well, i guess i designed my snapshuts—design feels like a really sophisticated term,’ she confessed. ‘i just kept trying stuff until it worked.’

clint glanced sidelong at her. ‘yeah,’ he said. ‘that’s what designing is.’

‘oh. then yeah.’

he huffed a little laugh and turned his attention back to the road.

it was really pretty. they were still in pennsylvania and the highway ran straight and clear ahead of them. on either side, dense forests crowded in grey and green and on a distant ridge, she could make out rows of looming hemlocks like a fence of arrows.

maybe not arrows, she supposed. just because something was triangular didn’t mean it looked like an arrow.

she leaned her head against the window. it shuddered and jumped under her skull from the tiny bumps in the road and made her teeth buzz.

clint reached carefully back and grabbed his sweater, holding it out to her.

‘what’s this for?’

‘fold it up, use it as a pillow.’ he said it all stern, an order, like it wasn’t the sweetest thing in the world. ‘you’ll get a concussion if your head bangs around like that.’

‘another concussion,’ she pointed out cheerfully. ‘oh. you didn’t know that? i mean, i’m fine.’

‘mhm.’ clint glowered at the road.

kate folded up the soft sweater and tucked it between her head and the window. then, between one blink and the next, she fell asleep.

//

lucky barked when clint took him out to pee at the next gas station. kate jerked awake with a kick and a snort.

‘shh,’ clint soothed, patting her shoulder. ‘go back to sleep.’

//

‘you should have woken me up!’ kate insisted for the sixth time. ‘i can’t believe you bought chips, of all things. i mean, salt? what were you thinking? it’s gonna dry us out, parch the lips, we’re gonna be gasping for liquids, clint!’

‘will it stop you from talking?’

‘in the worst case scenario, yes.’ she narrowed her eyes at him and asked, darkly, ‘why?’

he scratched at the stubble on his chin, but not fast enough to hide his smile. ‘just wondering. there’s something blue in the icebox, by the way.’

‘blue?’

kate twisted to check what drinks he bought. it looks like the worlds most off-brand gatorade and she gets why he just said blue. it’s not only the name but also the most prominent and upsetting feature.

‘it’s so blue…’

‘i know.’

‘this can’t be healthy.’

‘can’t be.’

‘…want half?’

clint rolled down his window and poured the dregs of his coffee into the highway gutter, passing the styrofoam cup over.

//

‘so. you had drinks with yelena?’

kate dug very nonchalantly into the bag of chips. she pulled out a folded chip between her pointer and middle finger.

‘did you ever get told it was bad luck to touch a folded chip with your thumb?’

‘…no.’

‘weird.’ she shoved it in her mouth and chewed obnoxiously loud. maybe he’d take it as a hint.

he didn’t.

‘some protege you turn out to be,’ he teased (she hoped). ‘you couldn’t have waited a week? she only tried to kill me yesterday.’

‘she wasn’t trying very hard,’ kate pointed out. ‘if she wanted either of us dead, we would be dead. like, you saw her fighting, right?’

‘yep.’

‘i’m not bad at fighting, clint! i have won—‘ she totted them up quickly. ‘seventeen trophies! important trophies! i got my black belt at fifteen. and she’s like, wow. so much better.’

clint nodded. his face stayed smooth but kate, half turned in her seat to lean against the window, had a perfect view of his hands curling tight around the steering wheel.

‘yep.’

‘was—‘ kate stopped. shoved another chip in her mouth.

clint’s lips turned up very slightly. ‘you can ask.’

‘are you sure?’

‘yeah.’

‘okay.’

kate thought carefully about how to phrase it. the black widow—the black widow—was a sore subject for clint. hawkeye. for obvious reasons. and with each hour that passed in this rust bucket truck that smelled now of gasoline and potato chips and dog, everything got a little bit more strange. she had known instantly who clint was when he stripped the mask from her face—the hawkeye! her hero! the world’s hero!—and then the week passed like a kidney stone and now he was hawkeye and also nathaniel’s dad and a husband and this guy. who was strange in his own right. like, who went into a gas station and bought the weirdest stuff on purpose? and kate was sitting in his passenger seat, their bows were packed together in the back seat, he had walked her dog. it was a lot. and she didn’t want to fuck it up.

‘was natasha like that?’ she asked quietly, words half vanishing under the putter of the engine so if he wanted to, he could pretend he hadn’t heard.

‘she was better.’ when kate scoffed, he grinned that tight lopsided grin, like he’d half forgotten how to smile. ‘i’m serious. she was the best. once, that meant she was the worst of the worst. and then…’

‘the shot you didn’t take.’

‘yeah.’

‘and she came to your side.’

‘not at first.’ clint opened his mouth. kate threw a chip in and cheered when he caught it between his teeth. ‘it was messy,’ he said through the crunch. ‘she killed some more people, injured more, broke into some facilities.’

‘what?’

‘she was a bad guy, kate.’ clint’s smile faded a touch. ‘yelena is too. just ‘cause she’s out doesn’t mean she’s changed.’

hot words raced up her throat into her mouth like bile; kate bit them back, surprised and a little weirded out by her own intensity. you don’t understand! she wanted to say, which was dumb as hell because of all the people in the world, the black widow’s best friend knew.

kate lowered her eyes to the dashboard. she thought of bell towers and scoldings and her mother’s gentle hand on her chin, looking at her the same way she had at eight years old.

‘i’ll be careful,’ she told him softly.

‘okay.’

//

clint had been a trooper through the trip, kate could and would readily admit that. she was the worst road trip buddy in the world. school trips relegated to being the teachers buddy could attest to that.

the last hour, kate folded her lips tight and her hands in her lap, only reaching out to stroke lucky’s head until he glared sleepily at her out of his one eye and turned away.

‘you’re being pretty quiet.’

‘are you sure i should come?’ kate blurted.

clint laughed. ‘bit late for that, isn’t it?’

‘no? i mean, the nearest airport is, what, two hours drive? or i could rent a car and drive back. it’s really pretty here, it’d be a nice drive, i wouldn’t mind at all. because christmas is a family thing and i know your kids were really wanting you back—‘

‘you’re coming.’

‘okay.’

clint threw her a few worried looks as the minutes ticked away.

‘she invited you. my wife. they want to meet you.’

‘me?’

‘no,’ he drawled, ‘the other girl archer who saved my life.’

he admitted it! kate very coolly grinned and pumped her fist in a secret little cheer.

‘okay,’ she said again.

she thought it sounded very happy that time, she thought she was very happy that time, but then clint had to sling a question her way—unfair—and she wasn’t so sure.

‘do you want to be there?’ he scratched at his head, above his deafened ear. ‘i didn’t really ask, i guess. did you want to stay in the city?’

kate leaned against the soft sweater and turned her eyes to the highway. the grass plain and the rolling hills that curtained the barton farm from the rest of ohio and the world.

‘nah,’ she said, tone light. ‘are you kidding? and miss out on christmas with the real hawkeye?’

given that she had raised her misgivings like, twelve seconds ago, she deserved his very intense and disbelieving side-eye. but it was sweet that he didn’t press.

//

cooper, she learned, was like his dad in that he kept most of his thoughts inside his head. he was less like his dad because when kate started rambling, he actually seemed to enjoy it and laughed at all her jokes. he probably got that from his mom, who was the most incredible host. warm and gracious and welcoming from the get go.

nathaniel—nate—was cheeky and bright and goofy and totally enamoured with lucky. he was at that age where he constantly had sticky hands and something on his face and when he laughed more than anything else.

lila was an odd combination of her parents. she looked a lot like her mom, and older than her years in the way kate remembered from high school, wanting to seem older than she was. she was so obviously sharp, clever and pointed and had a ton of questions for kate that started off kind and got way more… harsh wasn’t the right word. protective, maybe. of her dad and his time he had promised them. of herself, when it came to this stranger who had stolen their dad for a long precious week.

‘so, you’re like, his apprentice now or something?’ lila asked when her parents were busy in the kitchen kissing hello and, kate assumed, telling her some of the more important things that had happened.

‘um. something like that.’

‘that’s cool. you’re an archer like him?’

‘yeah, yep.’

‘and you nearly got both of you killed?’

‘lila.’

‘i’m just asking.’

‘not in front of nate,’ laura murmured, with a sweet smile. ‘and maybe not at all, yeah hun?’ she tugged at her daughter’s ponytail lightly, teasing.

‘i don’t mind,’ kate lied brightly, sitting tall and tense on the sofa with the girl. ‘it’s totally fair to ask.’

‘see! she doesn’t mind.’

kate had to look away when laura sent her daughter The Look; her ribs ached, clenching so tight around her chest, and it was weirdly hard to breathe for a second.

‘—ate? kate?’

a soft hand touched her shoulder. kate jumped up from the sofa, jostling laura and her own hot cocoa.

‘hey, sweetie, are you—‘

‘which way to the little girl’s room, sorry? it was a helluva long drive,’ she laughed, and chattered as lila stood at another parental look and guided her through a warren of doors and halls to the guest toilet.

‘sorry for badgering you,’ she said quietly, sharply, but not begrudgingly. ‘i’m just glad he’s home.’

and safe, she didn’t say.

kate smiled down at the girl. ‘i get it,’ and rolled her eyes when lila huffed and strode away. wild. she was usually so good with people, and especially kids. she had it on good authority that she was still just an older kid a lot of the time.

tucking away in the washroom, kate sat and let herself breathe. it smelled of lavender soap and some leafy plant on the windowsill. everything was clean and kitschy and so not home that kate had to curl up tight around her bruised and battered body and press her face into her coat, smell the singed sleeve and remember that yeah, she had fought kingpin and a thousand tracksuit goons yesterday and—and everything else that happened too.

her pocket shivered. more accurately, the phone in her pocket shook with an incoming text.

(yelena), the ID said. kate had changed it pretty fast. not that she was likely to forget.

no message to say you are there safe? how rude.

kate laughed softly.

we got here safe. no thanks to clint

should she have said that? yelena wasn’t on the warpath anymore but would she get it was a joke?

he bought this weird blue drink, she started, and kept talking until clint called her for dinner.

[pulse-oflife]

Prompt #4 // Off the Hook

"There has to be a way to mute a linkpearl," Keryn said as she flopped rather bonelessly into a chair. She was currently in what she had taken to calling the lobby of the Waking Sands, where Tataru played clueless secretary to anyone who wandered in without specific purpose. "I'm sure Urianger knows a way to do it, but he won't tell me what it is. I bet if I made him listen to these speeches, he'd change his tune."

The Lalafell ignored Keryn's minor rant in favor of continuing a letter that politely told some noble from Ul'dah that the Scions would not be looking into why he was being undercut at the market board. "How did these Grand Company recruiters even get my information anyway?" Shifting to sitting upright, she drummed her fingers on the table. "Unsolicited linkpearl communication should be illegal. Or something. I don't know. They're just being incredibly pushy about this whole thing, and I'm tired of it." Looking over at Tataru, Keryn sighed. The secretary swore up and down that she didn't know how the Grand Company officers had gotten hold of Keryn's personal linkpearl information and Keryn was inclined to believe her. Mostly. Maybe it had been on some paperwork and she'd left it out? Maybe Minfilia had given it to them.

It didn't really matter at this particular juncture, as it was likely that the mild harassment would continue until she did choose a Grand Company to join. With another loud sigh she stood up and headed downstairs - there'd be paper there and she could make a list of reasons to join or not join each group. "Nice to chat with you Tataru, it's been helpful."

[ninjastormhawkkat]

“Oh Matthew, there is nothing wrong with wanting to know your past, even years now.” Carl reassured him. “I don’t blame you even after finding out that not only is your deadbeat father alive, but hasn’t even aged a day. This would make anyone want to investigate their own past whether good or bad. You aren’t being paranoid over this.” Carl spoke in a calm and soothing tone. Matthew swallowed his breath, trying to hold back some tears, and just hugged Carl even more. After a while, the two old men finally released each other from their grasp. Carl let out a long sigh. His face still looked uneasy. “I’m assuming you don’t want to tell our children of your discovery yet.” Matthew’s face dropped at Carl’s remark. He shook his head and silently muttered a “no.” No, he wasn’t ready to do that yet. Carl let out one more deep and uneasy sigh. “Okay then. Whatever you want to do about this, then I will support you. I will trust your decision on this matter.” Carl exclaimed. Matthew raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You trust my judgment. “ Matthew asked. A slight amused tone filled his voice. Carl rolled his eyes. “You do make good decisions when you are thinking with a clear head Matthew.” Carl lightly scolded. This caused Matthew to let out a chuckle. “Okay. Thank you love.” Matthew said. Carl gave a small smile. The two then headed back downstairs. They saw their youngest son Gene who still looked a bit frazzled but not as stressed as he was before. “Is everything okay?” Gene asked his dads. Carl nodded and answered in Matthews’ stead. “Don’t worry son everything is fine with us. Just talking some things out. What about you, did you get to Victor in time?” Carl asked. Gene raised an eyebrow at the change of question but said nothing about it. “Well luckily despite having your outbursts dad, Victor didn’t go through with killing Doohickey. I just got off the phone with Tristan. He told me Patricia took his reaction wrong and that Victor was only going to give Doohickey his variation of the “shotgun speech”. He still had Doohickey shaking by the time the others came around.” Gene explained. Matthew looked relieved at that and so did Carl even though Carl looked a bit miffed at Gene’s comment about his own anger issues. “So what are the others planning to do now?” Matthew asked. “Well we talked a bit on the phone and we all decided to settle this whole emotional news now and just come here to talk about it when Emily gets off work.” Gene replied. He then turned to Melina. “You don’t have to stay any longer if you don't want to.” Gene offered. Melina shook her head. “I’ll be fine. You guys may need a pacifist to help quell things with how angry and emotional you guys can get from time to time.” Melina remarked with a teasing tone. Gene huffed, looking offended. “We don’t get angry and emotional all the time, Melina.” Gene retorted back. Melina shook her head in amusement. “You guys do sometimes.” Melina replied. Constance was humming a pleasant tune to herself as she roamed through Fair City’s shopping district. She had a few bags in her hands already. Items that included dead insects for Fluffy, a few care items for her son and daughter-in-law, and a lot of toys and clothes perfectly suited for her granddaughter Charlotte. Constance loved spoiling the heck out of her granddaughter and Fluffy and there was nothing anyone could do to stop her. As Constance hummed to herself, distracted by the thoughts of her precious grand babies, she didn’t notice she was about to bump into someone until she felt a strong oof. Luckily Constance still kept a tight hold on her bags. “Oh I’m sorry I didn’t see you there. I apologize.” Constance hurriedly spoke up. She soon realized she was face to face with a woman wearing gaudy makeup and a leopard print outfit. Constance fought back hard to avoid laughing and tossing her cookies. ‘This woman makes Woody look like a fashionista.” Constance thought. @dualnaturedscientist

Heart of chaos

A year had passed since the B.E.A.W Labs organization had fallen. Since all the events had taken place. Becky being taken along with Bob. The poor girl being experimented on by a cruel scientist who had no love for anyone but himself. Matthew had broken out of the facility with her, Carl and Steven. Gene's true identity being revealed along with losing his Dr.Two-Brains persona. Shocking revelations unfolded. Betrayals and redemption. Things had calmed down significantly since but that didn't mean life had been dull. It certainly wasn't for Fair City. Especially with the villains, heroes and its eccentric inhabitants livening up the city. Becky had been making a wonderful recovery. Though she still wasn't at her full recovery Becky was still making so much more progress than the year prior. Gene still had identity issues, dealing with the loss of Squeaky. Though he didn't go through it alone. The still mad scientist had his family and friends help him through everything. Matthew and Carl took up residency within the city. A house that wasn't too far from their sons. Life in this place was definitely lively and peaceful in comparison to the hellish place many innocent souls were imprisoned in. Matthew was less exhausted than before. Relaxing within the living room in his son's house, watching whatever was put on the television. Matthew felt his eyes beginning to droop. Sleepiness hitting him out of nowhere. He simply allowed himself to doze off, not fighting it. Knowing that he was safe there. It wasn't until he felt weight on him that Matthew opened his eyes. Usually a dog or cat would be the cause for this but Matthew met many eyes. Fluffy had snuck into the house yet again. A small warm smile spread across his facial features, patting the spider on its head. Fluffy leaned into Matthew's hand, making soft happy noises. It was funnily cute to him. Though he understood as to why Gene was so afraid of him. Even Carl was squeamish around the giant spider. “Aw, who's a good boy? You are! You're a good boy!” Matthew couldn't help but baby talk the arachnid. He looked up, wriggling his chelicerae in response. As to say ‘Me! I'm a good boy!’ He chuckled at that, giving Fluffy gentle scritches. It was like a huge puppy in a spider's body. Though the peacefulness was interrupted by a sudden shout. “NO! WHY IS IT HERE AGAIN?!” Gene was in the doorway of the living room. Looking quite terrified at the huge arachnid. Fluffy instantly moved around on Matthew's lap to look at Gene. Excitedly jumping off of the supervillain's lap in favor of his son. He bolted right for the mad scientist, causing him to yelp loudly and make a run for it. “SOMEONE KEEP THAT ABOMINATION AWAY FROM ME!” Matthew gave a small laugh. “Can't help but feel abit rejected there.” Archie, who was quiet until then, responded. “I know that feeling.” This caused Matthew to jump up startled. “Don't do that! I'm old. Also I could accidentally blast you.” Archie blinked in confusion. “You didn't notice me? I came in with Fluffy. He got loose and snuck into the house. I just came to bring him back before he got to Gene. Too late for that now.” Archie frowned. “I can't help but be jealous at how much Fluffy loves him. Though Gene is terrified of him. That spider just won't listen to me when it comes to his favorite person.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “You want me to help you?” Matthew was being genuine with his question. He didn't want his son dying of fright from the giant arachnid. “That would be greatly appreciated. I have to take him back home. He can't avoid taking his medication this time.” Matthew got up, stretching first before doing anything else. This earned him a strange look from Archie. “What? I said I'm old. If I don't stretch I'll pull a muscle.” The hero shrugged. “Let's go get him soon. I have to look after Charlotte as well.” Archie always had the brightest smile when Charlotte was brought up. Either by him, Sunshine or anyone else. It was sweet. “Alright, alright.” They were completely unaware of an enemy observing them. Waiting.

Miss Power growled in frustration at the display she was witnessing through a window to the Boxleitner or rather the Woods household. A display she thought was very disgusting. How badly the alien conqueror wanted to charge right in their and obliterate everyone in her sights. She couldn't do her usual tactics and tricks right now, not after what she learned after coming back. She was still ticked off after that little alien brat Wordgirl and her parents dupe and tricked her into leaving the planet in defeat. There was no way she could go back to her planet and face her people with such a shameful stain to her otherwise brilliant record. Fueled by revenge and hatred, Miss Power spent her time preparing, training, and waiting so she could exact her revenge against those who wronged her, against the little hybrid girl and her freak of a family that humiliated her. Sadly when Miss Power and her loyal sidekick Colonel Gigglecheeks did decide to return, they were not prepared for the recent changes that had happeend in their absence. Miss Power did not care much for this Darius person or B.E.A.W labs, she had seen those like them a dime a dozen before on other worlds. The alien wished she could have congratulated the person who tortured and dehumanized Wordgirl and her sidekick. If it was up to her, Professor Ross Moran would receive high honors among her people for his actions. She did give her condolences at his unmarked gravestone. While the recent trauma Wordgirl and her sidekick have suffered gave Miss Power an opportunistic advantage, the alien conquerer unfortunately could not risk using it especially with her grandfather around. Miss Power was amazed at hearing about the past and recent exploits of Maddrix the Malicious. She was shocked that someone so bloodthirsty and powerful was the father of that scientist who used to have a mouse brain attached to his skull as well as a weird cheese obsession. To her disappointment, Miss Power could clearly see the man was too human and had regretted his actions in the past. Actions that would have made him highly respected among her people despite him being human. Still Miss Power wasn't going to risk striking back while that old coot was still alive. Age did not always equate to weakness according to what she had been taught. Even though he was old, Maddrix was clearly still powerful. It was likely that her and Gigglecheeks would wind up dead by the man's hands before they could claim revenge and victory. A chittering sound snapped Miss Power out of her musings. She turned her head to see her sidekick give her a concerned look. He chittered again and asked 'So what are we going to do?' Miss Power smiled and scratched her sidekick's head which he enjoyed. "Don't worry Colonel Gigglecheeks. We'll get our revenge soon. We just need to learn more about Mr. Malicious and what weaknesses he might have so we can use it to defeat him." Miss Power cooed. She then took her sidekick and flew off without anyone being the wiser. Miss Power was brash and bold and could be tricked sometimes, but she was no fool. The alien conqueror learned long ago that the best way to win your battles was to be prepared and know your enemy more than they know themselves. Carl sighed with relief and slight exhaustion as he sat down in a comfy chair. He had just finished sweeping the floor of his and Matthew's home. Now all he had to do was sit and relax until his husband got home. Carl wanted to try a nice 'mom and pop' owned restaurant that one of Gene's friends, Chuck, had recommended to the man. Carl had been itching to get out and do something more and more recently. If he had to be honest, he was getting bored. In the past, Carl had his job and work as a scientist to keep him occupied along with spending time with his husband and kids. Unfortunately after his 20 year imprisonment, Carl couldn't step in another official science lab ever again without a severe anxiety and panic attack @dualnaturedscientist

[primofate]

Hi there, can I request the boys seeing you got injured or being attacked, whichever is fine ^^

Hey anon! You didn’t specify how injured but I’ll just run with it hahaha :)

Shortfic

Scenario: You got injured Part 1

Part 2 with Zhongli

Part 3 with Xiao

Characters: gn! reader x Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Childe

Warnings: angst, injury, no character death though

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Diluc

“Master Diluc, if I could just interrupt--” one of the caretakers in the winery walked up to his office and prepared for the assault of words that could be fired towards him, sure enough, Diluc interrupted. “What is it? I’m a little busy right now, make it quick,” he hadn’t turned his face to look at the grim expression weaving in and out through the caretaker. Hadn’t bothered to look up to check if there was anything amiss, but the caretaker continued quickly “It’s Y/N,” the caretaker had only paused for a moment but Diluc had already picked his head up at the mention of your name. It was here that he realises something must have gone wrong, the caretaker’s expression was not a pleasant one. He was up on his feet, eyes widening a fraction at the following words, “They came back to the mansion seconds ago and they’ve been injured past what Adelinde could fix so we called for a doctor—”

In Diluc’s hurry he had stumbled over his chair, it tripping behind him with a thud on the floor but he ignored it and fast runs towards your room. Dear Archons he should NOT have let you go on that commission by yourself. You could hold your own, yes, but things happened and he really should have thought that through first. He was berating himself for it as he swung the door open. “Y/N?!” 

The urgency in his voice tells you that he perhaps had the wrong idea of what was happening, it was really just a gash on your leg, although it was bleeding profusely, the cut must have been deeper than you thought. The maid had already placed a tourniquet to stop and slow the bleeding. You tried not to show it in your face, not wanting to alarm your lover any further, but it. hurt. like. hell. “Diluc, I’m fine, it’s just a gash,” 

The maid that was previously sitting on the chair next to your bed moves away, Diluc replacing her, his eyes didn’t tear away from the wound on your leg, his expression contorted to that of worry and nervousness, before finally turning to your face, reaching a hand out to cradle your cheek. “Stop lying. You’re pale, you’re sweating--” of course he sees through you, he knows the second you get upset, knows every crease on your forehead and every slight furrow of the brow. He had memorized every inch of his beautiful, beautiful treasure. “Your hands are trembling, you’ve lost too much blood, where’s the doctor?!” He grips your hand at the realization that you might actually be in a more dire situation than presented, and just on cue the doctor comes through the door, asking for some time alone with you to do his job. 

Diluc paces outside the door, unable to stay in one place for long. He kept thinking about how frail you looked. How, if you were unlucky, it wouldn’t have just been your leg. He shook his head at the thought. He didn’t know how he was going to let you out of his sight from then on. He knew full well it would annoy you to have him following you around everywhere but.... How could he not after this?

The doctor emerged half an hour later and explained that you just needed a bit of rest and that, with a little healing magic, you didn’t need the stitches at all. “Don’t let them use that leg for a day and they should be fine, it’s nothing life-threatening but they did lose a lot of blood and is going to need time to recuperate. They’re asleep at the moment,” 

Diluc takes note of everything and quietly slips into your room. They must have sedated you in the process and he sighs as he plops down on the chair that was still placed next to your bed. His eyes soften at the sight of you finally relaxed and less in pain, hand reaching out to brush off strands of stray hair that blocked his view of your face. “You’re the only one who can scare me this much,” he mutters under his breath, as if complaining and he swears that he sees a very small and light grin on your face, as if teasing him. He smiles a little, just happy that you’re stabilized and leans in to kiss your forehead, opting to stay by your side till you wake up.

----------

Kaeya

“What do you mean unconscious?”

“J-Just as we said, Captain. They were unconscious when we found them,” Kaeya sighs in slight exasperation. Normally he was a jolly camper but when the knight in front of him is unable to say how injured you are, Kaeya gets a little wordy. “I meant to say why were they unconscious? Were they hurt? Where are they now?”

Kaeya stands. He was in the middle of some Favonius paper work. “They were bleeding profusely from the head,” Kaeya stops as if lightning has struck him and stares pointedly at the knight. “These details should be said early on,” he thought that it had just been something less threatening. Perhaps you had somehow passed out, exhausted, on your bedroom floor. Or perhaps had just rolled from the bed and onto the floor. They said that they found you in the bedroom, and his blood froze when he realizes that someone went in there to attack you.

Kaeya doesn’t bother talking the other knight into giving better reports next time, he’d do that later. He could guess that you were probably taken into the Favonius infirmary. Sure enough, when he walks in there, face scrunched up into what could only be described as worry and anger mingling together, you were awake, head bandaged up and your eyes meet. His heart breaks at how you still smile at him despite the fact that he wasn’t there to protect you. He stands next to the infirmary bed and gingerly touches your cheek, peering into your eyes. “Y/N, what happened?” he asks, eyes scanning the bandages wrapped around you. “Who did this?” and there was that angry and cold undertone in his voice that you rarely heard, as if his cryo vision had taken over his whole being.

“I’m sorry, Kaeya, I-- I can’t quite remember,” You put a hand up to cover half of your eye, your head was still throbbing and in quick realization Kaeya eases up on you and gently pushes you on your back to rest. “It’s fine, sorry, I just--” he cuts his own speech off and takes a deep breath in. Focus on the good. He tells himself. “I’m glad you’re alright, take it easy, I’ll take care of things,” By that he means he might just slaughter whoever even had the guts to break into your house and attack you in the middle of the day. The break-in was reported by townspeople, and Kaeya was sure as hell he’d get every witness to describe that asshole’s face. 

“You’re staying with me for the moment,” he decides quite quickly, and you had no qualms with that whatsoever. Hearing that you had no protest at all, he grins and leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss, afraid to hurt you. “No complaints? Perhaps this was your grand scheme all along to come live with me,” You can’t help but chuckle at how quick he bounces back. “Maybe, honey. Maybe,”

----------

Albedo

“Ow--” the knife clatters to the floor, as blood starts to pool around your finger. Albedo spins around at the meek sound you make, ignoring the knife on the floor and strides over to you just as you’ve turned on the sink and started running water on the small cut on your finger.

“Let me see,” You turn to him, blinking. His face was blank. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking but he was staring straight at you. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s just a small cut,” but he doesn’t waver and glances at the water running over your finger. “Let me see,” he tries again, this time rather forceful. That got you to obey. Turning the faucet off and awkwardly offering your hand to him.

He receives it and cradles it in his as if it was porcelain, upturning your hand to look at the small cut on your pointer finger. It was tiny. Really nothing compared to wounds that a knight might sustain. Albedo sighs and looks up at you, “Don’t go anywhere,” before stalking off, coming back a few seconds later with a first aid kit. “...Al, it’s alright, it’s not a big deal,” Albedo would only let one person give him a nickname. You. No one else. Frankly he thought the nickname was weird but if it danced on your lips, he didn’t mind it at all.

“Y/N, you’re mistaken if you think I’m going to take this lightly,” he takes out some ointment and a small roll of bandage, starting with the ointment. “Everything and anything that hurts you is a significant thing,” his gaze darkens, as if glowering at that microscopic cut. “Miniscule or massive, it doesn’t make a difference to me,” he starts wrapping your finger, “if it taints your skin, I cannot help but feel--” he doesn’t know the right word, but you do, judging from how his hold on your wrist tightens. 

A soft smile paints your features at how he was such a worry-wart. Sometimes he was so bad at navigating his own feelings but you could decipher them anyway, from his actions. You let him worry over you, and thank him once he’s done. He finishes his work by taking your hand, and pressing it to his lips, his eyes darting up to lock on yours. That made you blush every damn time. His green eyes were just so mesmerizing, and so was his heart.

----------

Childe

Dear mother of the Archons, perhaps whoever was responsible for your injuries had some type of death wish. Everyone should offer prayers for whoever had cut you up. Your arms and legs were littered with small scratches from trying to run away from the attackers, you thought going through the thick forest was a good idea. In essence, it had slowed the thieves down. They had managed to throw a fire bomb at you that severely burned your right hand, and the right side of your abdomen. 

Perhaps it was thanks to adrenaline running through you that you had actually managed to make it to the gates of Liyue, just before the bridge, but you’d crumpled down right then and there. The Millelith guards didn’t recognize you, but the three Fatui agents walking on the bridge did. “Someone had better tell him,” The group of Fatuis scrambled nearer to you, one of them picking you up, but glancing at the other who had just spoken up. “I’m not doing that, you do it,” it was slightly comical, seeing them pass off the duty of who was supposed to report to Childe about it. “You know how he gets when it comes to them, I’m not doing--” then one of them finally gets their bearings together.

“Shut up, get them to the healer first,” The tallest one shoves the one carrying you, urging him to go fast and off he went. Now it was just two Fatui agents looking at each other. Two Fatui agents who decided that they would just face his wrath together. “Sir,” one of them starts as Childe turns around to look at them. He actually had no tasks today and was just about to go off to find you. “About Y/N...” Childe’s eyebrows shoot up, what in the world could these agents have to say about you? “We’ve sent them to the healers, they collapsed at the entrance of Liyue, it... doesn’t look good...”

All hell descends upon Childe’s demeanor and poise. His face darkens, his eyes burning holes through the two agents and his fists closed up on his side. His bow appears and hovers behind him, the only thing that shone through his dark person. “The two of you--” he starts, “are going to find out who did it. I’m expecting a report by nightfall,”

Childe himself shows up at the healers quarters, and was told of your condition. “Their hand is going to scar,” keeps reverberating in his head. Like the sound that he imagines the skulls of those who dared touch you crunching under his feet, over and over again. Childe actually winces when he sees you. Small bandages on your arms and legs from the scratches, your right hand wrapped up adequately and, he couldn’t see it now, but he was sure your abdomen was wrapped too.

You cracked an eye open, feeling another presence in the room. Childe immediately appears next to you, leaning over the bed and watching your expression. “...It hurts, doesn’t it?” he asks, tracing over your bandaged hand. You remained quiet for a moment before nodding your head slowly. Just remembering it caused a blinding pain in your mind’s eye. You’d been given drugs to ease the pain now, but there were still traces of it lingering on your skin. “How dare they,” both your eyes snapped open at Childe’s nearly contorted voice, shadowed and overpowered by rage. 

You pick up your good hand and touch his arm with the tips of your fingers. You didn’t like it when he got like this. “Childe, it’s alright,” far from it, but it was the only reassurance you could offer. He catches your hand and brings it up to his face, pressing your hand to his cheek as if it was a lifeline. “It’s not. It’s not,” he repeats to himself, his anger also stemming from the fact that he wasn’t there to protect you. “They’ll regret even laying eyes on you,” You knew he wanted to go now, knew that he wanted to get to the bottom of it, but you yet again pull your hand away to grasp at his shirt, the fabric scrunching up under your hold. “...But stay with me for tonight? Please?” 

That got him. He would never say no. His form relaxes and he leans in to kiss your lips, gentle yet with a hidden hunger in them. “Of course,” he simply says, as if his previous agenda forgotten.

But he would never forget. He would never forget for as long as he could see that scar. 

Tomorrow, he would decimate each and every one of them.

[dat-bruv-person]

OOOOH my bad homie let me try again

Self aware genshin Au

Beidou Ei Yae sucrose and ninnguang reaction to darling entering genshin and proposing to them and taking them back home with them

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ I AM PROPOSING

a/n: THIS. THIS IS WHAT I LIKE TO SEE - I LOVE YOU.

gn!reader, poc!reader friendly :)

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Yae Miko was just chilling at the Grand Narukami Shrine when she heard the familiar sound of a certain genshin player logging in. She smiled and looked directly into your camera, you had spawned here for a reason. Ever since you found out that the characters you knew and loved became self-aware, which was probably a glitch but whatever, there were no characters for you to control; only for you to chat to and walk alongside. You only deployed parties when it came to fighting- but most of the time it was you, your beloved travellers and Paimon and your party. This all happens in first person, unless you need to actually use the characters. Then it becomes third person. That information isn't relative to the writing, but to give you and idea. Speaking of which, you had other ideas than doing commissions and completing expeditions, no. You were going to propose to the Lady Guuji, through the screen, even though she was fictional. The kitsune was in shock when you did though! Her cheeks were rosy and arms folded tightly. Well, if you insist, [name]. I shall be your wife, and I shall wait for you here every day.

It was another day on the Crux Fleet for Captain Beidou, for Kazuha, and the rest of the crew. Once again, the familiar whoosh rang in her ears over the sound of the waves and she grinned. The woman waved the wandering samurai over, and together they both came to greet you. You told them to hold on whilst you claimed your Blessing of the Welkin Moon, but in actual fact you were rehearsing to ask Beidou to marry you. You had told Kazuha the plan in advance, and he might've been a little upset that it wasn't him that you were proposing to - but hey at least he was getting a second parent! Hey, crew, [name]'s here! Oh? You want to speak to me privately? That's fine. You and the captain moved to the sleeping quarters below deck. So, what did you wanna talk about, huh? You- you want to marry me? Why? All I've ever done is disappoint people my whole life. Are you sure this isn't a joke? No? Oh, okay... Beidou looked down at the wooden floorboards, her hairpin shining due to the amber lanterns that illuminated the lower deck. Sure, I'll marry you.

Sucrose, little baby Sucrose. She was up in Dragonspine with Albedo conducting experiments in the extreme cold, but then you came along. Of course she had to say hello! Albedo greeted you warmly, coming in for a hug but had to settle for a high five instead. He couldn't do that either so he decided on a smile and a wave. When you were asked by Sucrose what you were doing on the icy mountain, you leaned on your desk and placed your head in your hands. Frost sounds. You were dying of Sheer Cold. Did you move? No. You dramatically lowered your voice to make it sound like you were dying, and sank into back into your chair slowly as you spoke. This caught the assistant alchemists attention. Just as you were on 150hp, your speech came to a close. Wait, no! I love you but please get to somewhere warm! You smiled at her softly before collapsing, only playfully but you know how she is, making her fret and frenzy. Albedo chuckled softly. Relax, Sucrose, they'll respawn.

Ei cocked her head to the side and blinked twice. Why would you want to marry her? As far as she knew, she was part of a virtual simulator and you were real. She could see you, you could see her. Was that not enough for you? However, the concept of marriage did seem nice, so... Okay, I accept your proposal. I shall make the public aware of our engagement.

Ningguan was in the Jade Chamber when you spawned, she wanted to say hello but you got straight to the point. Congratulations! You've flustered Liyue's leader! I- this is a big honour, but quite sudden, no? I'm not saying that I will not marry you, but I'm not saying that others will like it either. Whatever, let those Inazuman fools come after me. I'll take matters into my own hands. Of course I'll marry you :)

[hops-hunny]

Stories That Are Told

Pairing: Tarrant “Hatter” Hightopp x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: (Y/n)’s so used to being the background character in everyone’s story that she forget she can be the main character in her own.

Warnings: Slight angst but majority fluff!

A/N: I love this man with my whole being omg pls

Stumbling into Wonderland with Alice had been a wonderful thing for not only Alice, but (Y/n) as well. For Alice it was an escape from all the things she didn’t wanna do and would never wanna do. She wasn’t forced to marry some sod of a guy who’d make her miserable for the rest of her life or to be the proper lady she was expected to be, but instead she got a taste of freedom. And although it was an escape for (Y/n) as well, it was an escape of a different kind.

In the other world, with it’s dreary skies and monotonous patterns and cycles, (Y/n) lived a very humdrum life. Her family had never been as fortunate as Alice in any ways of the sorts, it was a miracle that they were friends to begin with. Alice’s father had been friends with (Y/n)’s since boyhood and because of that, he always made sure they knew they were welcome to anything of his that they wished. And while (Y/n)’s father had never taken advantage of that from the way Alice’s mother treated (Y/n) and her family, it wouldn’t be hard to think otherwise.

When Charles was still around, she hadn’t done anything out of line. The older woman always kept to herself, occasionally having an afternoon cup of tea with her own mom. However, her true colors and feelings came to light after the passing of her husband. During the next few months after her husband’s absence, the (L/n)s were there for Kingsleighs. Although they didn’t have the funds to help them monetarily (for they also didn’t need it), they offered their labor and services to the two as much as they needed. Farm work, house cleaning, garden maintenance. Anything you could think they had done. But as soon as Helen was well (as well as you could be after losing someone so dear) , she had forbid them from coming to their property. She didn’t believe her and Alice should associate with people of “such low stature” because it didn’t “align with their image”. But that had never stopped Alice.

Anywhere Alice went, (Y/n) was always there by her side right along with her. They practically went everywhere together and that hadn’t changed since they arrived in Wonderland. (Y/n) was grateful that she had chased after her friend. It was like she knew something would happen. Afterall, crazy things always happen when you put two curious girls together for more than a moment. The friends they had made since they arrived were nothing short of lovely. She knew her sister would describe them as odd characters and disturbing individuals. Telling her to stay far away from them and to not associate herself with those types. But what was wrong with being odd or even disturbing? The only things worth doing in life were a bit odd and disturbing and if that made her peculiar than so be it. 

For the first time in her life, she felt as though she belonged. Sure, it wasn’t her story nor her destiny to be here as it was Alice but that did not mean she did not appreciate Wonderland for what it was. The story had never been her story, not here, and certainly not where they were from. Alice was the main chat and she was the topic that would get trickled in after. 

“Everyone has a part to play, (Y/n). Even if it is not large or as set in stone, each person’s role is necessary for the story to progress, even yours. You’ll see.” the words of that tricky caterpillar replayed in her head over and over again whenever she had a moment to think. What had he meant by that? Was her story not more than to be here in support of her dearest friend and the latest edition to their friends? Was she not just a tool in the scheme of things? (Y/n) had never known people of lesser importance as herself to contribute much of anything big to a legacy as large as Alice’s! 

From her end of the table, she watched as Hatter threw his hat high into the air before it landed on his head causing everyone to erupt in a jostled mess of laughter and cheering. She smiled fondly from a far. Tarrant was a kind man. No matter what was going on or where they were, he always had a way of making her feel included. That’s just who he was. He had known what it was like to feel excluded from things and the last thing he’d wanna do is be the cause of that for someone else. But it was nothing more than his nature, that’s it.

“You know, you should just tell him how you feel.” a velvety voice sounded from beside her ear causing her to jump. The (h/c) haired girl glared at the purple cat, reaching a hand to swat him away but he disappeared once more before appearing on her other side. “He watches you often, even when there is not many around to see. But I always do of course.” The Cheshire cat said in a sure tell tone. The girl scoffed at him, shoving another small pastry into her mouth.

“I’m not in the mood for one of your jokes today, cat. So if you’ve come to mock my feelings during my 2nd to last day in Wonderland, I wish you well and send you off.” she huffed out, crossing her arms across her chest, turning her gaze away from him back to Tarrant who was already looking at her. The Hatter gave her a secret wink and a smile before turning back to the March Hare who seemed rather frazzled about something. Or perhaps excited. But once again, the grinning cat appeared in front of her face once more.

“Silly girl, you ignore the plain truth in front of you? I can see why you and Alice get along so well, both of you can be quite foolish. Oh well, the story isn’t over yet after all.” and with that he was gone. What did he mean by that? The story was clearly over. Alice had done what she set out to do. The Jabberwocky had been slain, the White Queen ruled once again, and all had been made well. And what was with everyone with stories? Not everything you can do will always be a story and not every story comes to an end. She decided not to dwell much on it. This was her last night she’d ever spend in Wonderland and she’d rather like to keep it in good memory.

So when the White Queen offered her a hand to dance she took it, their dresses swaying in the wind in oppositional unison. They all danced with one another, twirling, laughing, and having a grand time. The entire time the smile never once left (Y/n)’s face which a certain hatted man enjoyed with all his being.

--------------------------------------------

“I can’t believe you’re leaving today. It seems as if it was only yesterday when you arrived.” the girl swiveled around to see the red head there, a bittersweet smile on his face. His smile grew once she turned to face him. Removing his hat, he bowed as he grabbed one of her hands placing a delicate kiss to the top of it. “I am delighted to have known a woman as graceful as you.” hot tears sprung into her eyes which she quickly got rid of before he stood up. Giggling some she hopped onto the large sit swing, motioning for him to join her.

“Don’t get sad yet, Hatter. I’ve still got a few hours left. You can’t rid of me that easily.” he joined her on the swing, a wide grin still on his face. Although it was partly real, she could tell there was some sadness lingering behind it. (Y/n) turned her gaze to the sight in front of them. From the large benched swing, you could see just about all of wonderland over the edge of the cliff. “Besides, there’s not much to miss. I’m just me.”

“And ‘just you’ is a lot! I’ll miss everything about you. The way you mimic the bird calls you hear, the way you get excited when the rock you skipped across the water goes further than you imagined,” she looked at him in shock as he continued to speak, “E-even the smaller things like how you leave the crust of your sandwich for last and give your crumbs to the ants. But I think more importantly I’ll...I’ll just miss your presence.” he said the last part softly, staring off the edge of the cliff to avoid her gaze. A million thoughts raced through her heads as he spoke. Could it really be? Could he really share the same feelings as she did? (Y/n) reached a shaky (s/c) hand to lay on top of Hatter’s pale one, intertwining their fingers.

“Hatter, I've got something to tell you. During my time here in Wonderland, I’ve enjoyed every second I’ve had with everyone. But more importantly, I’ve enjoyed my time so much with you and I believe it’s only fair to share with you that my feelings I have for you go beyond those of normal friendship. I guess you can say I’ve grown...quite mad for you.” his head whipped to face her as he stared into her eyes, tears welling within his own. He flashed her another smile except this one was genuine, filled with the love and warmth he had shown her the entirety of her time in Wonderland.

“(Y/n)! Alice sent me to fetch you. I’m afraid it’s time for the two of you to head back.”

-----------------------------

After a lot of shedded tears, heartfelt speeches, and goodbyes that were nothing short of wholesome, it was time for the two to head home. Alice patted (Y/n)’s shoulder before holding her arm out for her to grab. As they neared the portal, (Y/n) turned around once more to stare at her friends but when she got to Tarrant, her heart began to break. The gaze they held with one another was long until she simply couldn’t take it. Without thinking she ran up to him once more, grabbing his shoulders tightly.

“Hatter, Tarrant, I need to know how you feel. I couldn’t live with myself if I left and never knew.” he shook his head, looking away from her as he tried to stop the waterworks that were withheld behind the dam. Hot tears streamed down the delicate skin of the girl’s face. “Hatter...please.” her voice was broken as she begged.

“I believe I wasn’t honest myself either. I am completely enamored by you, my dear. I wish I had said something sooner but even though I couldn’t, I’ll always hold a special place for you in here.” he said, placing a hand over his heart. Standing on the tips of her toes, she leaned forward placing a quick peck to his cheek.

“What if it isn’t too late? What if I stayed?” she started, watching as he shook his head, “Hatter listen! You may think I’d regret if I stay but I think I would regret even more not following my heart the first time it’s ever tried to tell me something. Nothing would make me happier than staying here with you...that is if you’d allow it.” a silence fell over as everyone awaited his answer. Without another thought Hatter leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and sweet. Filled with a silent promise, a silent vow to care for her as deeply as his heart will allow. 

“I do not know what I did to get so lucky, but I would do it again if needed.” she felt herself grow flustered at his words. A quick peck was placed on his lips before walking over to Alice once again. The blonde had tears of her own in her eyes. She was glad her friend had found something to fight for, something to call her own. But also for the first time in many years, they would not see each other everyday as they once did. They both stared at each other before throwing themselves into each other's arms, laughing in unison as bittersweet tears fell.

“Good luck. Make sure you put your foot down. You’re Alice! You listen to no one and march to no one’s drum but your own.” Alice gave her a curt nod.

“Take care. We’ll meet again, do not doubt it.” 

Although Alice’s story had seemingly come to an end, it seemed as though (Y/n)’s story was just beginning. For once she wasn’t the side character in someone’s tale, but the main character in her own.

TAGSLIST: @de4ds0up @pink-hufflepuff​ @redpanda-poetry​

[buckybringsviolets]

Be Mine, Forever

40’s Bucky & F!Reader

A Valentine Drabble

700 words

No warnings, pure fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On a cloudy, blustery February 14th in 1923, an almost 6 year old James Buchanan Barnes held in his hands a slightly crumpled piece of pink colored paper. His mother had helped him cut said piece of paper into the shape of a heart. He was able to write his name all by himself, hers with a bit of assistance from his mom.

He now stood on the stairs of an unassuming brownstone in the New York borough of Brooklyn. He looked up at the door, a door he’d knocked on quite a few times before. But today was different, because today he had something special to give to the sweet, pretty little girl that resided behind that door. What if she laughed at him? What if she didn’t feel the same way? What if she told Stevie and the two of them thought he was a joke?

Holding on to that small crinkled paper heart, he gently knocked. He soon realized his worries were for naught, as the little darling opened the door, smiling at him, taking ahold of that Valentine from his outstretched hand, pulling it tightly to her chest. A smile appearing on her face, so bright, lighting up her whole face. A smile only for James, or Bucky as she always called him. When he left her house that fine day, she’d place the first of many many kisses on his blushing cheek.

And so every February 14th, Bucky would present his girl with a Valentine, some years cards, homemade and store bought when he was old enough to earn enough to pay. He bought her chocolates, flowers, and stuffed toys. One year he even bought her a pair of roller skates after she lamented on how Suzie down the block was always going on about hers.

But he’d never bought her jewelry. No, no that seemed too… something, he wasn’t sure of but just knew it wasn’t right for what they had, what they were. At least not until now.

As he clocked out for the day and headed off from the docks, he thought back to all those past Valentine’s Days, some good, some not so good and some absolutely fabulous, like the year you’d finally agreed to be his girl officially. He’d been teased by his friends, called doll dizzy, a label he’d gladly worn because his love for you had made him a bit nuts.

When he’d reached that same brownstone from years ago, a little more weathered, he patted his coat pocket, making sure this year's “Valentine” was still there. And just like he was with that first Valentine’s, he was nervous. Would she scoff at him? Was he wrong in assuming that this would be the perfect gift, the perfect time? So into his head he hadn’t noticed the door had opened and she had stepped out onto the snow covered stoop.

Buck? Her melodious voice called to him. Always a sweet song to him.

Doll… His voice sounding quiet, timid. He could do this.

He slowly climbed the stairs and once reaching the step just below her, he slid down on one knee, the small box held out in his shaking hand. His nerves getting the best of him, he closed his eyes. Bucky had this grand speech prepared, a beautiful testament to their timeless love story. But all that came out was Will you marry me y/f/n y/l/n?

He carefully opened one eye, not quite brave enough to open both, he looked up to see her face. He didn’t see confusion, irritation or mocking. No, he saw the face that he saw that Valentine’s Day so many years ago, a smile that could light up the very darkest of nights.

She stepped down just as he rose back up. She gently took his hand, the one that had the box, the ring, in it. It’s beautiful, Bucky.

He tipped his head at her, a slight grin appearing. And…?

I can’t believe after all these years you can’t guess my answer!

She threw herself into him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, almost sending the couple down the slippery steps. Carrying his girl down those stairs that he had walked a million times, he looked into her eyes, a look of true and pure love looking back.

Softly, she raised her face and placed a gentle kiss on Bucky's stubbled cheek. Like a thousand times before.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes

Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs, Barnes

[alluringjae]

it’s a royal order - jjh

⤑ summary: one of your royal campaigns became a success, and your bodyguard jaehyun was there to see it all happen. it’s only fair to celebrate, right?

⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader

⤑ word count: 2k

⤑ genre: fluff, suggestive (dirty talk, jaehyun got a daddy kink, superiority complex!!), implied smut | bodyguard!jaehyun, princess!reader, slight enemies to lovers!au, modern royal!au (where south korea remains under monarchial power)

⤑ warnings: mentions of alcohol, drugs, family problems and therapy, explicit language

⤑ playlist: lows by pink sweat$ | céline by gallant | i put a spell on you by iza | nasty by ariana grande | dance for you by beyonce | body by sinead harnett

⤑ author’s note: this is definitely less emotional than all i do is wait! i got this idea from a show i really enjoyed before it got cancelled named the royals. specifically, i really liked the story of eleanor and jasper, which is the whole princess x bodyguard dynamic. the pining and tension, ugh! if you know this show or not, it doesn’t matter. anyways, thank you for the 30+ followers and 200 notes on aidiw! enjoy!

i need holy water because of this piece.

⤑ credits to jeongjaehyuns for the gif above uwu

⤑  leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

“On behalf of the royal family, I would like to extend my utmost support for the Anti-School Violence campaign for all students to have a safer and more meaningful learning environment.” You proudly announced to the board of officials alongside other influential individuals in Korean society.

Being the only princess in the current royal line may have its pressures, but holding a strong, direct impact for a brighter future for the people motivated you to take advantage of your platform for the better. As the image of pure innocence and revamped women empowerment, you aimed to accomplish all the things your mother wished she could before her untimely death alongside your personal aspirations.

Expressing genuine joy with the campaign, with a tinge of desire to annoy the old-fashioned and closeminded officials, your prying eyes were more enamored by a certain man in the back clapping by the ballroom doors. You can’t help but act flustered whenever he witnessed you in a state of success and satisfaction.

This man went by the name Jeong Jaehyun, your trusted bodyguard since you were in your early twenties. 3 years later, he still stuck by your side and helped you endure all the darkness as a royal.

Back then, you went through a rebellious phase that was ruining the image of your family. Clubbing almost every night, drugs, skipping school, you even managed to get all assigned bodyguards to quit! The media ate up all your tricks, turning them into scandals. That was the plan, of course. You desired your own freedom from all the royal obligations because you didn’t ask to be born into that lifestyle. To all of your peers who wished to be in your footsteps, you would’ve impulsively passed your title to them. There’s so much deception that lies behind the glitz and glam of it all.

This unexpected change in your former untainted attitude came to the point that your father, the king himself, stepped in and personally assigned one of his men to get you in check. He figured that appointing a guard nearest your age may lessen the tension and mend you back together.

In the start, you absolutely despised him. There was no way to fool him when you were up to no good. He easily found your alcohol and drug stash which he disposed of on the spot and stood by your bedroom door every night so you wouldn’t sneak out past curfew (which your father also strictly implemented).

One big turning point in your relationship was when he rushed you to the royal hospital when you drank a cocktail that went unnoticeably spiked. To think that this was a typical social gathering with other royals and officials, you’re a constant target to many. You didn’t wake up for a few days, and the entire time, Jaehyun willingly stood by your bedside and outside your hospital room.

Since that and more instances your father insisted you get involved in royal affairs, you softened up. As cliché as it was, the more time spent with him, the more you knew about him and vice versa. He was the one that got you to fully open up about your grief towards your late mother, encouraging you to seek help. Turns out you weren’t as different as you thought despite your differing ranks in society when he also had a void for a missing parent. In his case, it was his father, who ditched his family for his mistress. Silently, you helped each other recover from your traumas alongside therapy. From dreading his presence, you started treating him more casually. Your father’s tactic of assigning a bodyguard around your age admittedly worked.

Oh, how time flies.

This campaign was the last thing on your weekend agenda, so you had the entire late afternoon and evening to yourself. Bowing one last time to the audience, you stepped down from the platform and accepted the soft hand of your bodyguard, who quickly made his way to you despite the flashing cameras. It was something he got used to as it is part of the job.

Once he successfully ushered you out of the ballroom, his hand still held yours. Nothing new, except this event was quite public and you didn’t want anyone to get any wrong ideas. Strolling down one of the many hallways in the palace became a pastime for the both of you, where no one can catch you. It was a safe haven within the destructive life of the Park kingdom.

“You did phenomenal as I expected, your highness.” Jaehyun complimented, recalling your panic the night before as the stage fright hit strong when you were reciting your speech to him over and over again.

“We are in private, Jaehyun. Must you really use those formalities with me?” You taunted, bobbing your head sideways mockingly. With him could you felt like a normal young adult, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Jaehyun loved being frisky with you, catching you get irked up. And he was up to do it again.

“Hmm last time we strolled these halls, Yuta caught us making out after a successful meeting with the Prime Minister.”

You gasped at his statement, conscious of whoever may be in the vicinity. But before you could refute, your hand that was interlocked with his were mightily slammed against the white wall. You lost your breath for a moment, his warm body closely on yours. His free hand freely roamed up and down your covered waist. His lips were dangerously near your neck, where you’re sensitive. Your hips naturally grinded against him to release the pent-up tension.

“Something tells me you want to do it again, princess?” Now he’s just using your title as a pet name, but you couldn’t complain. It just hits differently when the situation was set up like this.

“I deserve it, don’t I? Got a lot of those hell-driven officials on my side for this round.” You raised both your brows cockily, licking your lips.

“Hell yeah, you do.” Finally, he rids of the tension and plants open kisses on your bare neck. Your throaty moans were uncontrollable, and you could care less.

“My princess,”

Kiss.

“So intelligent,”

Kiss.

“So benevolent,”

Kiss.

“So helpful,”

Kiss.

“But,” He changed his pace and direction, swollen lips near your ear.

“But?” You question naïvely. He scoffed, smirking at your antics of playing dumb.

“But a total slut for her bodyguard.” He dominantly planted his lips against yours, one of his veiny hands gripping on your waist and the other by the arch of your butt. He was hungry, needy even. Due to your shared schedules, it’s been a constant struggle to have proper alone time from the snooping eyes of Korean society. After all, it wasn’t in the norm for a princess to fall deep for her bodyguard. Nor were you sure you would be accepted by anyone. Yuta, the bodyguard of your oldest brother, the crowned prince Jinyoung, finding the both of you at that time was a total shock but didn’t care either.

All that mattered was that your feelings towards each other are real and strong. Accepted or not, you had each other.

All this lust put you in a daze, wanting much more than another smooch fest in the hallway. Tugging on his belt, he squeezed your butt tightly. You emitted a moan, which allowed his tongue access. No way could you keep your hands to yourself, touching his upper body and the flexing of his abdominal muscles from his button-up. You felt his now hard member poking through.

Analyzing your area, you were on the other side of the palace. Farther to your bedroom where numerous rendezvouses were made, one kink you’ve considered in the past amplified your mind. Considering this area was also the king’s side, and he was abroad for royal affairs, this was your chance.

“I have an idea, my love. You up for it?” You rose a brow at your lover, challenging him. Not one to overpower this man in bed, but always suggesting a way on how to spice it up.

“And what exactly does your feral brain want to do with me, princess?” His finger lifted your chin so you meet eye to eye. You can just see the fire still burning, and oh how you were ready to intensify it.

“The main ballroom, where my father and late mother’s throne rest, are a few doors away.” Your fingers signal him to lower his stance as his tall height was difficult to reach. With a sneaky smirk,

“Let me ride you in the king’s throne, my love.” Your lips brushed over his and sucked his bottom lip, tugging him by his belt. He groaned, squeezing your butt. “It’s a royal order.”  

“Nasty, your highness. Insanely nasty, you are.” His hands hoisted your waist, boosting you up in his arms. You gasped with profanities, ravenously cut off by his lips again. His nails digging deep in your bare thighs, your legs naturally linked themselves around his torso while your arms passionately intertwined his broad neck.

In between kisses, he carried you to the said main ballroom. One of your wildest imaginations, just a second away. This room remained to be the only place without any guards stationed technological advancements or updated interior designs to preserve its traditional beauty. Dated as far as the 19th century, only special events were held and the highest of the high were allowed inside. Spacious, surrounded by gold linings majestic paintings of angels from above with a huge crystal chandelier right above the center. Right ahead, the original thrones that your ancestors, grandparents, and parents sat on when they were throned in its pure glory.

Pushing your lover on the king’s throne, the gold sun-like rays plastered behind the headrest, he cockily leaned back and manspread his legs for comfort. He rubbed his hands before patting his thigh, waiting for your submission. But you weren’t going to give in just yet.

Not when you prepared a mini-show just for him underneath your designer silk dress.

Jaehyun’s solemn eyes marveled over your gorgeous figure as you stripped down one strap after the other. Due to its silk fabric, it effortlessly dropped down to your figure to reveal a new set of black lace lingerie from your previous trip to Paris. Ages ago, Jaehyun unhesitatingly ripped your favorite ones during his birthday, so you decided to get a mature version of it. A version where your bra lifted your breasts more and undies hiked up to your waist to elongate your legs. Only for the eyes of yourself and the man in front of you, establishing that you were a powerful woman who can be absolutely anyone she can be. Princess, a normal young adult, or his slut, it’s up to you how you see yourself.

Jaehyun mumbled all the profanities he could think of at the moment. Looking like a divine angel when the sun from outside shuns behind you, his slacks tightening so much more than a while ago.

“All this for me?” He ogled shamelessly, undoing the buttons of his dress shirt and untying his necktie. “What did I do to deserve such regal treatment?”

You sneered at his comment, stepping out your dress in your heels and stationing right in front of his luring lap. “You’ve always been there for me, thick and thin. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

Lowering yourself to straddle him, his breath hissed when your damp core collided with his crotch. Distracted and caught in your trap, “I don’t think you answered my question, my love.”

Rather than a verbal response, he roughly pulled you back in for a kiss. His hands scattered to explore from your back down to your waist. Your hands messily ran through his hair, tugging on some when your body got too sensitive to his wild touches. The thrilling sounds of the two of you drowning in your fiery romance bounced throughout the ballroom, not minding if anyone passed by the hallways outside. It was a private room after all, and whatever happens here, stays here.

Rolling on his crotch while his lips trailed down to your collarbones, the quick snap of your bra wires echoed. The tight lift lessened as Jaehyun’s fingers dropped the straps, unveiling your bare chest covered in his marks.

“Enough playing, princess. Let daddy have some real fun with you.”

[wondernimbus]

everything you didn’t say — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: reader has secrets of her own. a party at the malfoy manor reveals them.

a/n: i had to rewrite this bc im dumb n my first draft didn't save which was Very upsetting but anyways i hope you like it :'') 

“Well, don’t you look dashing.”

Draco’s eyes snap up in the mirror.

[Y/N] is standing in his doorway, having somehow opened the door without him noticing. She has one shoulder leaning on the doorframe, arms folded over her chest, eyebrows raised. There is a glint in her eye that Draco knows all too well; that of playfulness, of fondness. One he has long since associated with safety.

He breathes out a short laugh. “How long have you been standing there?” Draco asks, ringed fingers deftly resuming to work on his tie, but he isn’t having much success. He feels far too jittery, and as a result he keeps accidentally knotting it, only to unwind the silk and try again, over and over like some messed up routine.

Watching her through the mirror’s reflection, he sees [Y/N] step into the room. She’s wearing a plain black dress; lace sleeves, collarbones in display, the silver necklace he’d given her hanging around her neck.

“Long enough to find out that you’re a grown seventeen year old who doesn’t know how to tie his own tie.”

Draco still has it in him to roll his eyes, to let out a short-lived laugh. “I do,” he mutters, yanking a little at the fabric in frustration. “It’s just..”

[Y/N] swiftly pads across his room to join him at the dresser, a tiny grin playing across her lips. Standing in front of him, she gently knocks his hands away so as to work on his tie herself.

“Nerves?” she says quietly. The grin on her lips falls slightly as she fixes her gaze on his tie, hands quickly working to loop the loose ends together.

Draco inhales sharply. His palms are clammy, his heart is beating too fast inside of his chest—to say that he’s dealing with nerves would be an understatement.

”You could say that,” he decides, curling and uncurling his fists at his sides. When she looks up to meet his gaze, he tries for a weak smile, if only to quell the storm inside his heart.

”It’ll be fine,” [Y/N] tells him with a pursed smile. She’s done tying his tie. Her hands move to rest on his shoulders, which are covered with his suit jacket. His mother had insisted he wear it, just as her own mother had no doubt insisted [Y/N] wear her dress; it is somewhat of a special occasion, after all, although what they are celebrating is hardly something that neither draco nor [Y/N] feel too ecstatic about it.

”There’ll be drinks,” continues [Y/N] with a lilting tone, thumbs smoothing over the creases of his suit. “And..”

She trails off. There isn’t really much to say.

”Dancing?” Draco suggests half-heartedly.

There is one brief second in which their eyes meet, and both of their lips are already beginning to quirk up at the corners, and then the next they are both breaking out into laughter. And it’s not the kind that hurts your stomach or has you pounding your fists on the ground, but it’s laughter nonetheless—a little rigid, a little heavy-hearted, but it’s just as relieving.

[Y/N]’s shoulders wrack with subtle giggles. “Yeah,” she agrees, nodding. “And I suspect Greyback will be giving a motivational speech.”

Draco feels his lips tug up into a crooked grin. “Hear my aunt might skip out on the party. She’s got knitting to do, you see.”

Both of them let themselves paint a picture inside their head: the infamous, untamed Bellatrix, sitting in a quiet corner with a quilt in her lap, humming a little tune to herself.

[Y/N] throws her head back in a loud laugh, and this time it’s not quite as tense. Draco watches her, laughing quietly on his own, and suddenly his heart doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

He watches as the last of her giggles dissipate, and she is smiling down at her shoes again, and then back up at him.

“We’ll be okay,” she tells him softly, once more reaching out, but not to tie his tie or to smoothen out the creased fabric of his suit, but to card her fingers through his hair the way she knows relaxes him.

Staring down at her—holding her gaze, which is warm and comforting and reminiscent of simpler times, like when she would sneak into his bed at Hogwarts and they would whisper and laugh quietly into the night, taking care not to wake up any of his roommates—Draco allows himself to breathe. To feel like himself again; a boy in love and nothing more.

”Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes, leaning forward to lean his forehead on hers. “Yeah, we will.”

—

Gatherings at the Malfoy Manor were usually a grand event; peacocks would mill about the lawn, some wandering past the large castle doors and into the drawing room, where the guests would stroke their feathers in admiration with one hand and hold a glass of the finest mulled wine in the other as they spoke among themselves, laughing and boasting offhandedly about the ancient living room set they'd imported from France or their children's future careers. Sometimes one would have enough courage to bring up the notion of arranged marriages, only for Narcissa Malfoy to turn them down and say that Draco would choose for himself when the time came, veering the conversation away towards things like ministry connections.

Parties happened often back then—not as much to celebrate as to fill up the overly large halls of the manor with pointless chatter—but things have changed. It’s been a while since the Malfoys last opened their doors to guests.

Does this count as a party? Draco wonders to himself, watching Death Eaters filter into the drawing room, some wearing sickening grins and others looking dead inside.

There are no more wandering peacocks. No more music, no more friendly guests eager to wed their children into the Malfoy family. There are only murderers. Death Eaters. There is laughter, but the kind that has Draco feeling uneasy.

Things have changed. Draco wonders if it's for the better.

He knows he and [Y/N] can't hide here forever—at the edge of the shadowed banister overlooking the entrance hall—but they stay there for as long as they can, until his grim-looking mother comes up the staircase and beckons for them to join the party.

Party. Ha.

So Draco and [Y/N] trail after Narcissa, who leads them into the drawing room, where most of the Death Eaters have gathered. No peacocks, no music, but there is wine, and almost everyone is clutching a glass of it.

He feels [Y/N]'s fingers graze against his. Looking over at her, she sees him staring placidly in front of her, meeting no one's gaze, but she seems to feel his eyes on her—so she turns her head to the side, and Draco sees her facade slip away for the smallest of split seconds as the look on her face softens and she gives him this small, reassuring smile.

He can almost hear her voice inside his head: we'll be okay.

Draco swallows. Nods just a fraction of an inch.

People clap him on the back as he passes, congratulating him and [Y/N] for a job well done at fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. Draco nods mutely and lets [Y/N] do the talking—she has always been better at keeping her composure, masking her true thoughts.

"Could never have imagined it," cackles Alecto Carrow, marching up to them in the middle of the large room. Her cheeks are already tinged pink with intoxication, voice a higher pitch than usual. "Most I expected from you lot was.. well, nothing, really. Doubted you could even fix a dresser, much less a whole bloody cabinet!" she shrieks with laughter, some of the wine from her glass spilling onto the floor.

[Y/N]'s gaze is stony. "Thank you."

Alecto’s nose wrinkles, her chortles dying down. "Thank you?" she repeats. "S'that all you have to say?"

For a brief, horrifying moment, Draco almost thinks [Y/N] is going to bite back with a sarcastic remark—but things have changed and there is a mark on her arm now, so instead she says, flatly, "It wasn’t an easy feat." A slight pause. "We’re just as surprised as you."

Alecto grins. She seems satisfied. "Well, 'course it wasn't an easy feat, or at least for you." She takes a big swig out of her glass. "Could’ve done it myself in ten minutes, isn't that right, Amycus?"

Her brother Amycus snickers but doesn't reply. Draco knows it's because he doubts Alecto's claims just as much as they do; she doesn't seem capable of writing even a bloody paragraph on her own.

"Well," says [Y/N]. "We appreciate your.. praise."

Draco almost snorts. It’s uncharacteristic of her to be so formal, and most of all to take the high road when being insulted. He knows that if things were different, if their lives weren't on the line, she wouldn't be standing here at Draco's side—no, her wand would be at Alecto's throat.

But that little bit of humor quickly fades when Draco finds Amycus staring at [Y/N], uncouth eyes roaming from her lips to her exposed collarbones, the skin hiding just underneath the lace of her sleeves, the dress hugging her figure—

Draco feels anger flare up, hot and heavy inside of his chest. Unconsciously, he finds himself stepping forward, urged on by that unpleasant feeling worming its way into his stomach, curling his hands into fists, tinging the tips of his ears red as his fingers edge closer to the wand inside his pocket.

¨What are you looking at, boy?¨ Amycus sneers, meeting his gaze.

Draco thinks, at that moment, that magic would hardly be fit to put this ugly brute of a man in his place—no, he´d much rather use his fists, pummel them into that crooked nose of his until he kneels at [Y/N]’s feet and begs for her forgiveness, because no one should look at her like that—

[Y/N] is whispering something, but he can´t hear it through the blood rushing in his ears.

But all of a sudden, Amycus’s gaze changes. He is no longer looking at Draco; rather, at something over his shoulder, and then he is bowing his head, eyes downcast.

All it takes Draco is a brief glance behind him to realize why.

He hears [Y/N] now: he’s here. He’s here.

An odd hush has fallen over the large room. The cause is easy to pinpoint; the Dark Lord has appeared at the entrance of the large drawing room, bringing with him a familiar sense of foreboding as everyone’s breath seems to hitch. It’s funny, in a sick way, how easily the atmosphere has shifted from something like ease to suffocating tension. How Alecto, who had been cackling into her glass of wine just moments before, now looks like a dog called to heel. How Amycus has torn his hungry gaze away from [Y/N] to instead stare down obediently at his feet. How Draco’s own parents, who stand a few feet away from the Dark Lord at the entrance, have their lips pursed and their hands clasped in front of them in submission.

Draco would laugh, but he is one of them now, and his head is hung just like the rest of them.

¨My, my,¨ says the Dark Lord, tone soft. ¨What a lovely party.¨

It had been he, the Dark Lord, who had suggested the idea of a celebration to revere in Draco´s and [Y/N]´s success. Not out of fondness, of course, but out of sheer spite for the Malfoys, caused by Lucius’s failure at the Department of Mysteries. This party was just another part of his little mind games; not only had he forced their son, Draco, to let Death Eaters loose inside Hogwarts, but he was now forcing them to celebrate it.

But why is he here?

It had been he who proposed the party, but no one had expected the Dark Lord to actually come. He had other things of actual importance to attend to: things that involved torture and kidnap and blackmail. He was on the brink of taking over the Ministry of Magic, and thus was a busy man—the Dark Lord only goes where he is needed, and not to pointless parties.

Draco swallows.

So why is he here?

¨It is only right, of course,¨ Voldemort continues, his voice still so oddly soft, like he´s addressing children, ¨That we celebrate the success of our young Death Eaters. The task I gave them was not an easy one, I’m afraid, and yet they prevailed, in the end, and proved themselves to us.¨

He wonders if Voldemort has spotted him and [Y/N], and feels bile rise at the back of his throat. Draco doesn´t want him anywhere near her.

Just leave, Draco thinks to himself, his teeth gritted so tight he hears how they scrape inside his skull. Just leave.

“I must admit, a few months ago I had my doubts.. but now here we are, applauding them, congratulating them for a job well done, treating them as one of our own.. welcoming them.”

“Draco.”

[Y/N] has inched closer to him. A moment later she feels her fingers weaving through his, squeezing his palm so tight Draco knows without having to look that her knuckles have turned a ghostly white.

He squeezes back, thinking that she might just be as surprised as him. Just as nervous.

It’ll be okay, he tries to tell her without saying it out loud. He´s too scared to speak. It’ll be okay.

¨And yet even as we toast to their names..¨

Draco keeps his head down. He can hear the sound of Voldemort´s robes rasping against the floor as he moves about the room.

But that is not the only thing he hears. Cold sweat trickles down the side of his temple, because in the Dark Lord’s voice he hears an edge. He senses danger.

A thought bounces around Draco’s skull as he fixes his gaze intently on his shoes: why is he here?

"Even as we welcome them with open arms.. as we let them walk among us unharmed, revered, almost, for their bravery..¨

¨Draco,¨ [Y/N] repeats, a little louder this time but only for his ears, and if the room wasn´t so quiet he wouldn´t have heard her ragged, almost panicked breathing, but it was and he did. 

He senses uneasy movement from behind him. One of the other Death Eaters.

¨Despite our kindness, one of them dares to turn away from us. One of them dares—¨ The Dark Lord´s voice grows colder, angrier, losing control and then all of a sudden softening again after a pregnant pause; ¨One of them dared.. dares to feed information to the fools that call themselves the Order of the Phoenix.¨

Draco hears the collective murmur of surprise that ripples through the room.

“Draco.” [Y/N]’s grip on his hand, if possible, tightens.

¨One of them dares betray us.¨

There is a brief moment of confusion on Draco´s part. He turns his head to look at [Y/N], brows furrowed as he struggles to make sense of the Dark Lord´s words.

But then Draco meets her eyes. Sees the look on her face.

¨I´m sorry,¨ she whispers, and realization hits him like a burst of icy cold water.

¨Seize her,¨ Voldemort says coldly. When Draco looks up, he sees that he is halfway across the room but his gaze is fixed on them—on [Y/N].

Amycus and Alecto are the first to move. They drop their glasses with no hesitation, sending them to the floor where they break into a hundred tiny pieces, and grab [Y/N] by the arms. She resists, wrestling in their arms, but the string of words that leave her mouth aren´t curses, nor are they pleas to let her go; no, they are apologies, repeated over and over again like a mantra as she desperately holds Draco´s gaze—”I’m sorry, Draco. I’m sorry.”

He watches as they yank [Y/N] across the floor, towards the Dark Lord, away from him. His lungs have stopped working, his heart is pounding wildly somewhere inside his throat, and [Y/N] is being roughly thrown at the Dark Lord´s feet—

Draco can´t breathe. His mind is buzzing, blanking out to a field of white, noise and heat colliding and melting until he can´t think through the blood rushing in his ears.

“Pity,” the Dark Lord whispers, gripping her chin harshly, jerking it up so that she would look at him. 

“I thought you'd proved yourself to be worthy of my praise, but instead it seems you've proved yourself to be rather the opposite—“

She snaps her head away. “Fuck you.”

“You, my child, have proved yourself to be a fool.”

“You´re never going to win.”

The Dark Lord seems unfazed. A grin splits wide on his face, stretching his lips into an uncannily amused grin as he stares down at the girl at his feet for a few seconds before nodding—and then turning around, twirling his wand in his hands—when had he pulled it out?

“And now, my brothers and sisters.”

Draco doesn’t feel his feet move underneath him, but they do.

“Lo and behold what happens to ungrateful fools who turn us away believing that they are saving the world, when in fact they are ruining themselves.”

Everything happens so quickly that Draco barely has any time to react; Voldemort raises his wand, and it seems to almost shine in the light as he points it directly towards [Y/N]—the Dark Lord´s mouth opens, the spell resting on the tip of his tongue, [Y/N] at the opposite end of his wand—

“No!”

It’s as though something inside of Draco has snapped, like he is being jarred awake. He doesn´t think—just darts forward with no real goal in mind other than to put himself in between Voldemort and [Y/N], but then there are hands grabbing at his arms, holding him back—

“Let go of me!” his tone is feral. He jabs his elbow into someone´s stomach, trying desperately to wrestle himself free, but the more Death Eaters he rips off of him, the more take their place. “[Y/N]!” he is breathless. “[Y/N]—”

The Dark Lord is going to kill her. He´s going to bloody kill her.

“Draco,” he hears his mother´s voice but doesn’t see her—he´s too busy thrashing wildly in the arms of whoever has hold of him, yelling out profanities and curses and [Y/N]´s name; “Draco, come. You don´t want to see this.”

“Let fucking go of me!”

But then the Dark Lord´s voice cuts through the havoc—¨Let him stay.¨

“[Y/N]!” Draco shouts, gritting his teeth. There are tears in his eyes; he doesn´t realize they´re there until they´ve fallen and he tastes them on his tongue. “Don´t touch her! Don´t fucking touch her!”

But the Dark Lord is, once again, unfazed. He turns his gaze to Draco but doesn´t lower his wand. “Watch, my child,” he says, voice ringing throughout the room, cold and unforgiving. “And pay close attention. This is what happens to cowards. To fools. To ungrateful scum.”

[Y/N]´s back is turned to Draco, and maybe it is better that way, because when the Dark Lord raises his wand, he doesn´t have to see the light leave her eyes.

Draco feels the entire world slow down. A single thought appears inside the ruined mess that is his mind, almost as if it’s mocking him—[Y/N] has always been better at masking her true thoughts. At hiding things; even from him. 

We’ll be okay, [Y/N] had told him.

She had lied.

¨Avada Kedavra!¨

general taglist:  @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03​ @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy​ ​@kpopgirlbtssvt​ @lumielikesbooks​ @teheharrypotter​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual @chaoticgirl04

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Prompt- Nyx tickles Rhys in front of all the hewn city members. (Rhys is very ticklish)

A Visit to Hewn City

Fluff//1565 words

“You are not taking our child to Hewn City. Absolutely not.” Feyre’s arms were crossed and she had an obstinate look in her eyes.

Rhys just smirked. “Fine. You can take him with you to your art classes.”

Feyre winced, likely remembering the last time that had happened. Nyx had gotten into a bucket of paint, smeared his hands all over the wall in a desperate attempt to get it off, then started crying. “I’ll stay home today.”

“I thought you were short-staffed.” Rhys knew exactly how this conversation would end from the sigh that escaped his mate’s lips.

“Can’t you go to Hewn City another day?” Feyre asked in a last-ditch attempt to keep her son away from there.

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “We’ve both already rescheduled the last few dates we were meant to go. Keir was annoyed enough as it is to hear that only one of us could come today.”

“We could get a babysitter—”

“Mor is off being our emissary. Cassian and Nesta are in the mountains. Azriel’s on a mission. All of our other friends are busy in some way. Do you trust our son with a stranger?”

Feyre squeezed her eyes shut. “I know you won’t let anything happen to him, I just don’t want Nyx in that environment.”

Rhys gaze softened. “I know, darling. I understand. If you really don’t want me to—”

“No,” Feyre cut him off. “I trust you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and tried for a smile. “Just think of the look on Keir’s face when you show up with a baby. He only found out about Nyx during out last visit, yes?”

Rhys’ lips twitched. “Indeed. I imagine he’ll be rather surprised. And hopefully annoyed too. My dear uncle deserves a bit on trouble every now and then, don’t you think?”

Feyre grinned. “Absolutely. I need to go now.”

Rhys gave Feyre a peck on the cheek. “Have fun.”

Feyre returned the sentiment and winnowed away.

Rhys gathered Nyx in his arms, ready to head off to his meeting. And really, he was the most powerful high lord Prythian had ever seen. Only Feyre’s power rivaled his own. How hard would it be to keep a baby under control for a few hours?

—

As predicted, the look on Keir’s face was absolutely priceless. Rhys winnowed nearby, then strutted into the throne room with a baby in his arms. Of course a few residents of Hewn City dropped their goblets at the sight.

Keir, though… he looked absolutely enraged. The first glimpse of his distantly related grand-nephew did not seem to meet his standards.

Rhys just grinned at him and kept walking. Passing occupants of the Court of Nightmares, who were all scrambling to bow, seemed to please Nyx. He was reaching out of Rhys’ arms at everyone they walked by, excited to meet new people.

Rhys made it to the two thrones and took a seat in his own. Nyx settled on his lap, cooing.

“You brought the newborn,” Keir commented. His voice was strained.

Rhys just smiled. “I hope you don’t mind. Your High Lady is busy today. Subjects, may I present my son, Nyx.”

The whole room seemed to collectively take a breath, processing the situation. They clearly hadn’t been expecting a baby to appear in their domain.

Ignoring the silence, Rhys turned to Keir once more. “Any important updates?”

Keir was still frowning at Nyx. “Everything has been as it usually is. We only need to discuss how to calm down some residents who have gotten a bit worked up about some issue or other.”

Rhys, accustomed to the vague references to his people, wasn’t bothered by the lack of willingness to share. He was, however, bothered by the way Keir scowled at Nyx throughout this little speech. Even now, his eyes were on the baby who was currently pulling at Rhys’ hand.

“Do you have an issue with the presence of my child, Keir?” Rhys’ voice was icy.

Keir’s eyes snapped to Rhys. “He has wings.”

Trying to keep from throttling the male in front of his son, Rhys kept his tone even. He noticed the whole room tense at his words. “Does that matter?”

Keir frowned. “Being commanded by an Illyrian and his bastard Illyrian friends was bad enough. Now the child?”

Rhys wanted to use his power on the man. He’d done it before. Feyre had as well. But with Nyx there… absolutely not.

Instead, Rhys smiled. “I’m glad you’re pleased with him. Now go fetch some wine for me.”

Keir tensed, debating whether to argue, as he’d done many previous times. But something hard in Rhys’ eyes had the male scampering away.

Nyx seemed totally oblivious to the encounter. He gave his small wings a flap and scooted on Rhys’ lap. A string of babbled baby language left his mouth.

Rhys smiled fondly at the boy. “Hello, son.”

The entirety of Hewn City was watching their high lord coo at his baby, but Rhys paid them no mind. He wasn’t going to be cold and ruthless in front of Nyx.

Keir reappeared with the wine and Rhys took the goblet, not bothering to thank him. Then he dismissed Keir with a wave of the hand and went back to playing with his son.

—

Rhys wasn’t meant to be at Hewn City for long. After a couple of hours, Rhys had the small issue Keir had mentioned sorted out. He’d also entertained the court for as long as his lordly duties required.

Ready to leave, Rhys tried to scoop up Nyx, who had crawled over on Feyre’s empty throne. The baby managed to get Rhys back on his own seat and clung to his tunic, babbling.

“Now, Nyx, it’s time to leave,” Rhys said in a gentle voice, much of the court still watching curiously. They certainly had a very long attention span.

Nyx remained uncooperative. He tried to climb up Rhys’ shirt. In the process, his little baby fingers dug into Rhys’ side.

Rhys let out a startled laugh.

Pleased with the reaction, Nyx repeated the movement.

Prepared and trying to hold it in, Rhys lasted a few seconds before laughing once more. The entire court was staring at them now, entirely unsure of how to react to seeing their high lord being tickled. Keir was glaring with disapproval from the sidelines.

Nyx didn’t let up, surprisingly strong for a baby. Rhys had a bit of a laughing fit while trying—and failing—to corral his son.

Not sure if he’d be able to pick up the rascal and make it out the door, Rhys just smiled at the Court of Nightmares and said, “Your High Lady and I will visit next month. Be on your best behavior.” Then he winnowed away, hoping he didn’t sound as embarrassed as he was feeling.

Gods, Rhys’ face felt warm. He was blushing. Maybe they’d blame it on the wine.

Having appeared in his home, Rhys straightened and stepped toward the bedroom door, hoping to make inside before Feyre caught him. Nyx, still unused to winnowing, clapped his hands excitedly at the change in scenery.

“What did you do?”

Rhys slowly turned. “Do?”

Feyre had her arms crossed. She didn’t look particularly angry; she only seemed curious as to why her unflappable mate was blushing and trying to sneak into their bedroom.

“Did he get into trouble?”

“He was on his best behavior, actually. You shouldn’t be so doubtful toward him, darling. It hurts his feelings.”

Feeling entirely unhurt, Nyx hiccuped and reached for his mother. Feyre lifted him out of Rhys’ arms, rolling his eyes at the pathetic attempt at a deflection.

“What did you do then?”

Rhys winced. “Why do you think anything happened at all?”

Feyre impatiently knocked at her mate’s mental shields, not trusting a word that came out of his mouth. Reluctantly, Rhys lowered them, allowing Feyre full access to his mind.

After witnessing the day’s events, Feyre burst out laughing. “Oh, gods.”

Rhys pouted. “Stop that.”

“Being tickled by a baby in the middle of the Court of Nightmares. How will you ever look them in the eye again?” Feyre managed between laughs.

Rhys sighed. “I won’t. You’re on permanent Hewn City duty.”

Feyre smiled. “Right. Gods, I need to go tell Mor.”

Rhys’ eyes widened. “You need to do no such thing!”

“And Cassian. He’ll never let you live it down.” Feyre was fighting a smile.

Rhys crossed his arms. “Think of the child. What would poor Nyx think of his mother bullying his father so terribly?”

Feyre grinned. “He seems rather pleased with himself, actually.” Indeed, Nyx was stretching his lips, smiling toothlessly, tugging on Feyre’s sleeve.

Rhys sighed. “Oh, well. I think I’ve about given up on dignity at this point.”

Feyre smiled fondly at her husband. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Rhys guided his wife to the bedroom so that she could set down Nyx and let him play.

Upon asking how her day was, Rhys discovered she’d had a great time with her students, teaching some newbies how to mix the colors.

Despite the lingering embarrassment, Rhys was no longer upset about what had occurred in Hewn City. After all, a little bit of sheepishness was definitely worth seeing the look on Keir’s face. Maybe he’d bring Nyx with them again next time.

———

Tag List:

@feysand-loml

@aelin-bitch-queen

@story-scribbler

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Sparks pt.2

Summary: Peter Maximoff comes back after a weekend at home to find Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters crowded and booming with noise. He decides to investigate and finds out that it's orientation day for new students. He sees you and immediately is head over heels, but in his attempts to impress you he embarrasses himself beyond belief and runs off before you can even introduce yourself. 

You can read Part 1 Here

You and Kurt made your way inside the school along with a handful of other students. You had been assigned to Kurt’s orientation group, each current student was assigned to be a guide to the new students and show them around and help ease them into life at the school. When you first met Kurt he was telling you that one of the current students was away for the weekend so he had more students to show around than usual. You now assumed he was talking about Peter.

Kurt led the group through the entrance, doing his best to explain the history of the school but he kept getting distracted by the snickers that echoed throughout the group. He glanced over at you, a worried look on his face and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Why are they laughing, am I doing something wrong?” He had only been able to introduce himself to you personally before the orientation started so he felt more comfortable around you than any of the other students for the time being.

You shook your head and replied in a whisper trying your best to spare him of any further embarrassment. “Try looking in the mirror.” He gave you a confused look before turning to glance in the hallway mirror. He turned back right after still not realizing what they were laughing at but then immediately swung his head back towards the mirror. He let out an agitated groan. “Peterrrrr.” He licked his finger and tired his best to wipe off the doodle but all he did was smear it. His tail stood at end behind him, a clear sign of his anger. You felt a little bad for and a part of you was starting to understand why all the other student’s had a grudge against this Peter guy.

For the rest of the tour Kurt was agitated, trying his best to be professional about the tour but the constant snickers and students praising Peter on his antics didn't make it easy. You guys wrapped up your tour, coming back to the main part of the school where all the other students and their mentors were standing. Xavier was at the front of the crowd giving a welcome speech. He was basically recapping all that Kurt had told you before coming to the conclusion. “And you all must graciously thank your orientation leaders for showing you around today.” You smiled and Kurt and mouthed thank you, he mirrored your smile with an eye roll. “Some of your mentors are the best we have at this school. The X-Men.” Xavier motioned for those who fell under that name to step forward. 

Kurt made his way through the crowd and stood up on the stairs behind Xavier along with others whose names you didn’t know. Xavier spoke up again wheeling up to the first boy in the line. “This is Scott Summers, better known as Cyclops.” Xavier tossed up an apple and the boy lifted his sunglasses up, laser vision disintegrating the apple before your eyes. Everyone in the crowd began chattering excitedly at the display of his powers. Xavier continued down the line introducing them and you tried your best to remember all their names and what powers they possessed. Xavier made his way to the end of the line and let out an exasperated sigh. “We actually have one more X-Men member, Quicksilver, but it seems he was too busy pulling pranks to show up for introductions.” The crowd let out a laugh. 

“I’m never too busy for you professor!”  A voice rang out from the back of the crowd. You turned around to see Peter sitting, rather relaxed in an antique chair. “Pranks or not.” He got up making his way through the crowd shaking hands with new students and introducing himself. When he got to you he opened his mouth to give a sly greeting like he did to the others but no word came out.

 Your previous anger for the man seemed to fade as you finally got to see him up close. You felt yourself gulp, he was cute. You guys held eye contact for a second more before he sped past you, your hair blowing back at the sudden gust of wind. Next thing you knew he was up on the stairs, waving to the crowd as they cheered him on. He removed his googles and held his arms out, giving a grand bow. All the other X-men just looked at him with narrowed eyes. Xavier shook his head and turned back to address the group. “Here you will learn to control your abilities and learn that they are what make you special. With the help of myself and the X-men I hope you can find your place here.” He smiled warmly at the crowd. “Welcome home.” You cheered with the crowd, clapping for his speech. 

Xavier dismisses you all and has your mentors direct you to your dorms. Kurt passed out cards to the students and to you. It has the room number on it in case you ever got lost. It also had the name of your roommate on it. Her name was Jubilation Lee. You prayed that she was going to be nice.

Your prayers were answered when you opened the door to your room. She practically leapt off the bed to greet you. “Hi! It’s so nice to meet you! What’s your name.” She sweetly smiled at you

Just being around her made you feel happy. You replied. “My name is (y/n) (y/l/n). “

“I’m Jubilation Lee, but you can call me Jubilee.” She took your hands in her’s. “I can already tell we’re gonna to be great friends!” You felt your smile widen. You were so happy that you were going to be rooming with someone like her.

“Yeah totally!” 

Kurt left you two alone as he continued on with the other new students to show them to their rooms. You began unpacking, Jubilee insisted on helping you. And by helping she meant going through your stuff, but you figured she didn't have any mal intentions so you let her. “You have the newest Madonna record? I’m jealousssss.” You giggled as she rifled through the rest of your record, giving compliments here and there on your music taste. When she got to the bottom of your bag she let out a little giggle. “I didn't take you as a snack junkie.” 

You stopped what you were doing and turned to face her. She was holding a handful of twinkies and hostess cupcakes. “I’m not. I picked them up from the floor.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

“Not like that!” You defended. “I just picked them up after that kid dropped them earlier. I was going to return them to him.”

Jubilee tilted her head to the side. “That kid? Oh you mean Peter!”

“Yeah him.” You admitted, you smiled softly at the thought of him. Jubilee watched you smile to yourself at the thought of him.

“Oh. My. God.” She rushed over to you and slid on the floor, landing next to you. “You have a crush on Peter!”

You could feel blush staining your cheeks. “I do not!” You quickly got up and putting the folded shirts away in the dresser. Jubilee followed you, pestering you. 

“You are blushing so hard.”

“I am not!” You squeaked.

“Are too.”

“I do not have a crush on him I don’t even know him.” You huffed. “But..”

“But?” Jubilee questioned a wide smile on her face.

“I do think he’s cute.” You admitted face turning red. Jubilee squealed.

“You guys would be such a cute couple.”

“Getting a little ahead of yourself there.” You laughed.

“I know but-“ Jubilee paused as you both heard a soft tap on your door. Peter peeked his head into the room, hand covering his eyes. 

“I hope you’re decent Jubilee.” He said with a smirk.

“Shut up you Perv,” Jubilee said, throwing one of her hair brushes at him. He dodged it laughing. He hadn't noticed you yet. 

“Professor asked me to tell you and your roommate to come to the main garden.” 

“For what?” 

“How should I know? I’m just the messenger.” Out of the corner of his eye Peter saw the stack of hostess snacks that Jubilee had taken out of your backpack and put on the bed. He sped over to it and picked one up. “Have you been holding out on me Jubilee?” He ripped one open and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. “So good.” He opened another one tossing he wrapper onto the floor. He turned to Jubilee. “Gimme em’” He ordered with his mouth full. 

“That’s so gross Peter, close your mouth when you’re eating.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Besides, they're not mine.” 

“Huh?”

“They belong to her.” Jubilee used her powers to create little firework arrows pointing to you, they exploded in a multitude of colors. You could have died of embarrassment, you playfully smacked her shoulder and she let out a little laugh. Peter looked over at you and suddenly the twinkie became hard to swallow. “Hey.” 

[amesstm]

Happy Endings

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Reader

Word Count: 1134

Warnings: angst, character deaths, manga spoilers up to ch. 138

The Scouts were huddled around a makeshift campfire, the only source of light in the big forest you were based in. You and your friends were all telling stories, from Sasha’s hunting adventures to Eren’s exaggerated encounter with titans. Laughs were exchanged, eliciting a warm atmosphere in this cold world.

“Y/N, do you have any stories?” Historia asked, a smile on her face. Always one to include everyone, she now turned to you in anticipation.

You pondered for a moment before shrugging, “Not any from my childhood, it was pretty average.”

“Not even anything embarrassing?” Ymir whined, earning a nudge from Historia. She turned to her friend and stuck out her tongue.

You shook your head, “No, not really. I suppose I do have a story from my childhood that my mom always used to tell me.”

“Is it a fairytale?” Eren asked, with an eyeroll to accompany his question.

“No,” you replied. “But it does have a happy ending.”

“So, it is a fairytale,” Jean teased, leaning into you for emphasis.

You blushed, “Okay, slightly. I’ll just tell you the story:

Long ago, to a time before Titans, a princess lived in a hole. She had no recollection of how she got there. There were only items that could keep her alive with no way out. She tried using her clothes to make a rope, throwing it up in hopes that it’d latch onto something. Yet nothing was there. Then, she tried using spoons to dig her way out of the hole. But the spoons broke, never to be used again. After that, she tried calling out for help until her voice was so sore that she couldn’t speak. However, one day, a knight in shining armor came by. He fell in love at first sight. He asked her, ‘My fair lady, do you require help?’ The princess replied only with a nod, but that was enough for the knight. He helped her up and they lived happily ever after.”

There was a silence. Eren laughed, “How is that a happy ending? She struggled for no reason.”

“The moral of the story is that you just need the help of others to be happy.”

Jean chuckled, “Even from this suicidal bastard?”

Eren sneered with anger and rose, until Mikasa dragged him down. You spoke, “Yes. Even Eren.”

Armin tilted his head and queried with a small voice, “Y/N, do you believe that happy endings exist?”

You peered at Armin, whose eyes held a glimmer of hope. Your blank face lifted into a smile, “Yes.”

“How can you have hope in a world like this?” Jean asked. His eyes didn’t hold his usual cockiness, but a genuine wonder.

You shrugged, “We all need hope, don’t we?”

~

It seemed that there were happy endings. Although Commander Erwin passed away, Armin survived. Once they unlocked Eren’s basement and discovered the truth of the world, everything seemed so much more possible.

A few years flew by, with Eren making a grand speech about not wanting to give any of his friends his Titan powers. Jean had his arm around your shoulder, being one of the few relaxed in this situation. His presence was calming and you leaned into his neck. You two had long confessed your feelings for one another, but would you two live long enough to be married?

Ironically, the rashest boy was being the most vulnerable in this moment. “I won’t let my friends have the Attack Titan.”

A part of you was relieved, knowing that you and Jean could live a long happy life together. If the rest of the world would let Paradis live in peace, though. Before meeting Jean, you had nothing to lose. You entered the Scouts thinking that you’d be able to sacrifice your life to a greater purpose. No one was waiting for you at home, anyways. But now? Now you had everything to lose.

You clutched Jean’s arm, basking one of the nice moments that would inevitably end.

“Y/N, do you still believe in happy endings? Even when we’re hated by the whole world?” Connie asked after his stare-off with Sasha.

Truthfully, you wanted to believe in such things. Deep inside, you wanted to say yes because under the right circumstances, it could be. In a different world, with different choices having been made, this reality had the possibility of being one with a happy ending. Surely, it had to be.

In an assured voice, you answered. “Of course.”

~

However, the world truly seemed to be ending. Millions had died at this point, all because of Eren wanting to protect his loved ones. Ironically, Sasha was dead, but so many of his other friends died, too. Not in the physical sense that they no longer walked this earth, but the innocence that these children once had was buried into the ground long ago.

“I want you to live long lives.” Weren’t those the words of a friend from long ago? Certainly, that boy died, too.

Oh, those days when you would just rest with Jean under a tree or eat ice cream when you first arrived to Marley. Now, things could not be more different. Trees were trampled into the earth and all the ice in the world melted from the overwhelming steam of the Rumbling.

Still, happy endings truly did exist. All you ever wanted to do was die surrounded by loved ones. Now here you were, surrounded by gas with the threat of turning you, Jean, and Connie into titans. “It’s just another day for the Survey Corps.”

Connie made some remark about Jean being the one to blame because we all joined him. Yet, you mulled over all the details of Jean’s face, like you were looking at him for the first time. You thought about how his facial hair would tickle and prick you when you two kissed; over how you would brush your hands through his hair; and the feeling of his rough, calloused hands clasping yours in a secured fist.

“Y/N, still think that happy endings exist?” Connie asked, amused by the idea of hearing a different answer.

Did they? All the promises you and Jean made to each other - to survive this and finally marry each other – to have kids of your own... they wouldn’t come true now.

But you shook your head, “Always. I’m with the people that I love so this is my happy ending.”

Connie nodded and Jean kissed you one last time. His lips displayed a neediness that you never truly felt before. His head leaned into yours further. Then, you tasted the saltiness of tears. Whether they were yours or his, you couldn’t tell. Then it hit you: this was the kiss of a lover saying goodbye.

Then, you couldn’t think anymore.

[qitwrites]

⬅ Previous || 28 || Next ➡

“Um, what are you guys doing?”

Jirou doesn’t normally intrude on whatever the class gets up to in their free time, but when she sees a small group standing off to one side of the common room staring intensely at the couch, she’s intrigued, which usually isn’t a great idea but it’s Saturday afternoon and she has a grand total of zero plans for the day.

So yeah, screw it.

Tokoyami looks over his shoulder and gives her a curt nod. “We are observing one Shinsou Hitoshi.”

“Ohhkay, why though?”

Kirishima leans back and whispers, “He hasn’t looked up from his phone in the last three hours.”

Jirou quirks a brow, “Not even once?”

“Nope.”

“And you’ve all been watching him this whole time?”

“Not the whole time, but every one of us that’s been in and out for the last few hours has seen him glued to it. He hasn’t even moved; we checked to see if he’s breathing.”

“Is he?”

“Yeah, he is,” Midoriya confirms quietly. “I don’t know how he does it though. It’s like he’s playing a one-man game of statue.”

“Hmm.” Jirou holds her chin in her fingers. “Have you guys tried talking to him or something, instead of, I dunno, just standing here and staring?”

“Watch,” Ashido says as she bounds up to the purple-haired boy.

“Hey Shinsou.”

Shinsou hums softly, “Sup?”

“I really do believe the Earth is flat.”

“Freedom of speech, you do you.”

“I think cats are terrible.”

“You lead a sad life and I feel sorry for you.”

“Memes are like, the worst.”

“You’re fluent in meme.”

Ashido walks back to the group and shrugs, “He’s been like that for ages. Hasn’t looked up once.”

Jirou nods in amazement. She looks around at the group of people before smiling wickedly.

“Wanna make a bet?”

Everyone perks up at that, turning around to face one another and huddle together.

“Ok, what are the stakes?” Kaminari asks excitedly.

“First person to make Shinsou look up gets their pick of dessert from our trays for a week.”

Kirishima pipes in, “Also, we can take over their cleaning duties for the week!”

Everyone hums in agreement. Jirou looks around the group and says, “Who wants to go first?”

Predictably, Midoriya takes the first shaky step. Everyone watches with bated breath as the green-haired boy approaches the couch. They expect him to say something, maybe joke around or ask a plethora of quirk related questions, but instead, Midoriya, in total Midoriya-fashion, just walks up behind the couch and squats down –

- and then picks the entire couch up, Shinsou still perched on it comfortably.

He starts squatting him then, making it look effortless. Jirou shuts Kirishima’s dropped jaw as she watches Midoriya finish an entire 10 rep set before putting the couch down gently. She bursts out laughing when she notices that Shinsou lacks the decency to look even mildly surprised, and the only thing different is his grip on the couch armrest to keep him stable during the reps.

“I really thought that would work,” Midoriya says with a wobbly lower lip. Kirishima envelops him in a big hug and murmurs something along the lines of You’re so manly, and the games continue.

Jirou offers to go next and decides to plug in both her earphone jacks into the couch and amplify her vibrations, hoping to jar Shinsou off the couch or maybe even just vibrate him off of it.

10 seconds in, Shinsou sighs and sinks in deeper as he yells, “Ahh, massage chair.” Because that’s how harsh the vibrations are.

Kaminari wails, and Jirou takes one of her earphones out of the sofa and shocks him stupid.

When Jirou finally slinks back to the group, Tokoyami ruffles the feathers on his neck and says, “The darkness shall prove victorious.”

He slowly makes his way over and calls on Dark Shadow, the night creature slithering out and shrouding his body to create a menacing silhouette.

They’ll never know what Tokoyami’s plan had been because the minute he gets within a foot of Shinsou, the class 1a insomniac just angles his phone and switches his flashlight on, effectively reducing dark shadow to a completely weakened, measly version of itself.

Tokoyami does the walk of shame back to the group, head hung low.

“I have failed.”

Midoriya gives him a pat on the back while Kirishima gives Dark Shadow a hug as the night creature pouts about the purple meanie.

“You guys are amateurs,” Kaminari scoffs, cracking his knuckles obnoxiously. “Watch and learn children.”

The blonde gets maybe within 5 feet of the couch before Shinsou picks up a cushion and throws it right at Kaminari’s face, sending him toppling back. His aim is impeccable, and Jirou can barely breathe.

“Oh my god, that was amazing,” she wheezes, slapping Kirishima’s back, the redhead doubled over in laughter. “Please tell me someone recorded that.”

Midoriya throws her a thumbs up, his phone still pointed at the scene, and Jirou lapses into another fit of giggles. When they finally calm down, Kirishima takes a few deep breaths and slams his fists together in front of his chest.

“I’m gonna do it!”

The redhead barely takes a step forward when Shinsou whips his head up, eyes roving the crowd before suddenly settling on someone just behind the group. He staggers to his feet and walks towards them, and they part like the ocean as he makes a beeline towards Todoroki. Shinsou doesn’t say a word or anything- just barrels into the impassive teenager and gives him a bear hug that lasts all of two seconds before pulling back and whispering reverently, “Thank you.” He then proceeds to stalk right out the dorms.

Kirishima’s head whips between the dorm entrance and Todoroki before he bursts, “Wha- how- what just happened?”

Todoroki holds his own phone up and the screen is on his chat with Shinsou. The latest message is an image attachment from Todoroki and he opens it with a shrug and says, “He’s wanted it for a while, I just kept forgetting to send it.”

The picture is a little grainy and taken with shaking hands probably, but immediately the class knows what they’re looking at- a picture of Aizawa tangled up in his capture weapon, looking at Shinsou with the most unamused expression.

“Blackmail material,” Todoroki clarifies as he tucks his phone back into his pocket. He turns to walk away before looking over his shoulder and saying, “And I don’t want dessert, but extra cold soba would be lovely.”

Jirou rolls her eyes but she’s got an indulgent smile on her face, just as Kaminari races after Todoroki, begging for some blackmail material of his own.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

Fjorester Week Day 3: Family

Read on ao3

Jester clutches Fjord’s hand nervously as they walk down the street. Nicodranas is bustling at this time of night, more so than usual. In the recent weeks the city has been abuzz with gossip as the Ruby of the Sea’s secret daughter returned to her hometown to open up a new art gallery. And tonight is the grand opening. 

Jester fights down her nerves as they get closer and closer to the gallery. Both of them are dressed up to the nines. Jester is wearing a glistening white dress with flowers embroidered on the hem, the skirt falls almost to the floor. Fjord’s tie matches Jester’s dress and he wears a light grey suit and a lollipop tie pin. 

Jester is sure Fjord can feel her sweaty palm as they turn the corner. Only three buildings down from the Lavish Chateau is a small brick building with the words Lavorre Art Gallery painted on the facade. It’s still early so there’s no crowd yet, but Jester knows that within an hour the street will be packed. It had been surprisingly easy to find and purchase this building, especially considering it’s proximity to the Chateau. Jester and Fjord spent the last five months transforming the building into the art studio of Jester’s dreams. 

The whole second floor has been converted into an art studio with plenty of room for canvases, paints, pencils, and any art supply she could desire. The first floor was renovated into a gallery with more than enough room for all of Jester’s paintings. 

Jester takes a deep breath and leans into Fjord’s shoulder as they walk towards the gallery. He smiles down at her and squeezes her hand. When they walk inside Jester breaks into a huge grin at the sight of everyone inside. She invited all of her friends to come early so they could have some time before the crowd comes. 

Inside are Beau and Yasha looking at a pastel drawing of  Xhorhas. Caleb and Essek talking with Kingsley, all three of them holding champagne flutes. Veth and Yeza are walking around, just looking at all the paintings while Luc swings off of Caleb’s arm. And Caduceus talking to Marion and Babenon. When Jester and Fjord enter everyone turns to look at them. 

“Hi!” Jester says. She goes to add on, but before she can her mother crosses the room and scoops her into a big hug. 

“I’m so proud of you, my love,” Marion whispers in her ear, planting a kiss to the side of her head.

“Thanks, mama,” Jester says with a grin. When she looks up, all of her family is surrounding her with proud smiles. Fjord stands a little behind them all and when she meets his eyes he's looking at her with such adoration that it nearly makes her melt. 

“Thank you guys for coming!” She bounces on the balls of her feet in excitement. “Okay so,” she looks at them all, a glimmer in her eye, “part of why I wanted you to come early is because I have gifts for all of you.” Jester claps her hands together and rushes over to the storage closet where she had stashed seven paintings the day before. 

“You didn’t have to do that, Jester,” Beau tells her. 

Jester shakes her head, “You guys are my family and you all helped me get here. I wanted a special way to say thank you.” With that she takes the first painting off the stack. 

“Beau and Yasha.” She hands the first canvas to Beau. On it is a painting of the two women facing away, holding hands. They are silhouetted by a brilliant sunset and the ground by their feet is filled with wildflowers. 

“Caleb and Essek.” This painting is of Essek and Caleb in profile, their heads bowed together, eyes closed. Around their heads are stars and fractals. 

“Veth, Yeza, and Luc.” This painting is of the three of them at the beach. Veth and Yeza hold onto Luc’s hands as he splashes in the water, all three of their faces scrunched up in happiness.

“Mama and dad.” This painting is a traditional portrait. Babenon stands behind Marion, looking over her shoulders with a small smile. In Marion’s arms is a little blue tiefling child, about four years old who looks at the two of them with adoration. 

“Kingsley.” This painting depicts Kingsley in his full pirate garb, swinging on one of the ropes, smiling brilliantly, the rest of the Nein behind him cheering him on. 

“Caduceus.” The last painting shows Caduceus with his arms around his family in the Blooming Grove. The seven of them smile happily, dirt on their faces and hands. 

As everyone is looking at their paintings, thanking her and telling her how beautiful they are, Jester walks over to Fjord and extends the last one to him. Of all the paintings, this is the one she is most nervous about. He gives her a fond look and takes it silently. 

The image is of the two of them dancing, smiling at each other in the way only two people deeply in love can. In the background is the beach and both symbols of the Traveler and the Wildmother. But the part she’s nervous about is the two gold bands that clearly are painted on both of their hands. 

It takes Fjord a moment to find the detail and when he does he looks up at Jester with a smile, “Does this mean what I think it means?” 

Jester grins and from her pocket pulls out a gold ring from her pocket. “I’m not going to get down on my knees because my dress is too pretty to get it dirty,” Jester begins. He shakes his head with a laugh. “Shush,” she tells him, “I’m trying to propose.” He shuts up. “Fjord, we both know that I don’t always know the right thing to say or the best way to express my feelings. But I know I love you and I know that there is nothing I would rather do than spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” 

“Of course I will,” Fjord says. She hears their family cheer as he pulls her in by the waist and kisses her. They’re both smiling too wide for it to be a proper kiss, but it feels just as magical. When they pull apart, Jester takes Fjord’s hand and slips the ring on his finger. Fjord blushes and says, “I, uh,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black ring box, “I was going to propose tonight too.” Jester laughs and stands on her toes to kiss him again. 

“You can propose to me after the party,” she tells him. “You can talk about how proud you are and how much you love me and-”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Fjord shakes his head fondly. “You can’t spoil my whole speech.” 

“Then you should have gone first,” Jester teases. “I thought mine was pret-ty romantic, good luck topping it. You know-” Fjord cuts her off by pulling her into another deep kiss.