#MORTIFYING to try to explain that to a group of (YOUNG! ONLY A COUPLE YEARS OLDER THAN ME!) sapros who don’t see it. lawl 🤪

[sjjdkdkwo]

Wong and Stephen don’t have fans like other superheroes. They’re names aren’t shouted at them whenever they walk out into the busy New York City streets, and people don’t have their faces on T-shirts or hung up in posters on their walls. No, Wong and Stephen work in the shadows, away from preying eyes and gone before civilians can even wonder if they imagined being saved at all. Neither of them minded though, they feel no indignation when they come back home worn and fatigued after a long battle only for the news to praise someone else. Alone in the Sanctum, together they find solace and praise with each other. It’s enough, and for many years it goes on that way, just the two of them hidden in a little corner away from the rest of the world. So when it changes they barely have time to register what happened.

 Wong spends a lot of his spare time looking for special offers, on food and toiletries mainly, more often than not with the help of Stephen. But ever since he’d found out that the other often missed roaming the vast and resplendent halls of New York’s many museums he’d added to looking for offers and special free

events on those too. They’re on their way back from a day trip to the MOMA— it had been kids get in free deal, and Wong hadn’t minded taking on the glamour spell as Stephen avidly explained each piece and the artist’s history to him — and had lost track of time. Between getting a late dinner from the dubious hot dog cart and the early darkening of the winter sky though, they both deem the bright and brilliant city night worthy of a walk home rather than their usual portaling. They’re a couple streets from home when they spot two older gentlemen arguing to each other garishly in the middle of the sidewalk. They almost walk away completely when they hear one of the men say they’ll never find their way back home now. Stephen sighs and looks at Wong who only nods in agreement and they make their way over. They learn that the men had misplaced their car, and could no longer find it and lived to far away to make it on foot.

 So they follow them as they look at every individual car around the street, listening to them berate and reprimand each other the whole time. Eventually they move on to other topics, commenting on Stephen’s messy hair and Wong’s clothing of choice. At some point they even offer words of wisdom, and they both listen earnestly as words of guidance are never something to dismiss when given freely. Each one whispering to either Stephen or Wong not to forget to the smaller more subtle moments of life, nor company that is willing to remain through the many years that will follow them as each old man spares a sly glance at his friend. It’s far later and they both know they would’ve been home by then when they old men tell them they remember that they’d taken the bus. Stephen and Wong can’t even find it in themselves to be angry with them, not when they’re laughing so zealously together and instead offer to walk them to the bus stop. They wait the entire time with them, worried now that it’s so late, and just before they can get on their bus, quickly place a protective spell on each of the men, waving them off and saying their goodbyes. They don’t think much on the matter after, and settle back to their regular routine.

 It’s Stephen who decides to do something kind for Wong this time. After many years as his colleague, Wong had slowly become Stephen’s closest and most treasured friend. A sentiment that was returned, though neither of them had to say so, not really. And when Stephen finds out that one Misses Beyoncé Knowles is going to be in New York for a concert, he enters every single contest he can find knowing well he’ll never be able to raise enough money to buy even one terrible seat ticket for Wong. As each attempt turns up futile though Stephen begins to loose hope. He’d already promised Wong that he would take him to the concert though, and watching him dance around the sanctum singing all his favorite songs Stephen knows he has to find a way. They’re outside the MetLife Stadium when Stephen spots the scalper, and really he knows he shouldn’t but Wong is decked out in his signature Beyoncé T-shirt and hat and Stephen has nothing left to lose. But when the officer nears, the scalper is shoving all the tickets into Stephen’s hand with Wong next to him and all they can do is stand there dumbfounded.

 Wong refuses to speak to Stephen while they’re in the uncomfortable cell, arms crossed and head turned away even as Stephen jabbers on apologies the whole time. Stephen sighs after thirty minutes trying and failing to say he’s sorry before he slumps down next to him. He’s almost ready to condemn himself to a long night of silence when resolve and perseverance run through him and he gets up in front of Wong. The other man barely spares him a glance till Stephen opens his mouth. “You’re getting your concert, Wong.”

 Wong can only stare in horror and shock as Stephen opens his mouth, swaying his hips a little before muttering softly to himself, “Vishanti, please no.” More than a half-hour later and a questionable rendition of “Irreplaceable” Wong is hiding what can either be tears of endearment or discontent. They’re startled out their little moment when they hear awkward clapping from the other side of the cell. A young man, sitting with a look of somewhat disdain and question on his face. Stephen quickly clambers back to his seat and allowing silence to overtake them all. It’s also Stephen who has to break it not one minute later to make conversation because he’s still mortified at the thought of anyone else having watched him perform terribly. After the initial awkwardness they find that the young man had gotten caught hot-wiring a car. Really it had been a job for a so-called friend who knew he’d been in need of the money and threw him under the bus last minute. He tells them his mother is very sick and they could no longer afford her medicine and Stephen in particular feels an ache in his chest at the words. Remembering a time where he’d have scoffed at a so-called “sob story” like this one and feeling awful for the young man in front of them. So he offers to look her over and pay for the medicine, he aware he can pull a few strings-though he really will pay, knowing it would be unfair to other people if he only offered the advantage to the young man alone, no matter how long it took-and looks to Wong with a strained smile. Wong however his smiling back, and gives him a little nod of approval.

 The young man looks at them doubtfully for a minute, they’re appearance not helping, before agreeing. Once they’re all set free Stephen and Wong allow themselves to be lead by the young man to his apartment. True to his word Stephen overlooks his ailing mother and a few hours later resurfaces with the medicine in question. The man looks near to tears when he thanks them both, hesitating for a second before hugging them each quickly much to their surprise. Stephen and Wong wave him off, leaving the two to rest for the night and to get some sleep themselves. And later if the young man gets a random job offer as an assistant for Stark Industries, all he can do is remember the two odd men from the night in the jail cell.

 The next time Stephen and Wong find themselves taking a long walk in the New York night they’ve just come back from mission across town. Nothing big really, just a few lowly demons causing mischief at the docks. So easy in fact they hadn’t been tired after and decided to enjoy the cool night air. It’s barely past three in the morning when they make their way around nightclub. A block down they come across a small group of young women, clearly inebriated and they keep a close eye from afar for a minute as their nerves become unsettled for them. A few moments later they paranoia is gratified when two men make their way over to bother them. They waste no time making their way over to step in, and a pained trembling first and panting Wong later they turn to check in on the young women. They offer to walk them to their next location, much to their mistrust and Stephen and Wong can’t fault them. With some skepticism they finally agree, not without proudly displaying the small can of pepper spray first though. It turns out they’d been on their way back home, and Stephen and Wong walk ahead of them a little to allow them distance. As they make their way onward though the women find their way next to them and begin to make pleasant conversation, and Wong and Stephen can only nod as the begin to speak about anything that comes to their minds. Somehow their conversations become more intuitive and before they know it they’re discussing deep philosophical matters. They’re almost to the women’s home when they turn and tell Stephen and Wong not to forget the rest of the world, that they’re not alone. They barely have time to respond when they’re waving them away and clumsily making their way through the door of their building. The words follow them for a few days before other worries wash over them.

 It barely a few weeks later when Wong and Stephen are out for a quick lunch during a rather peaceful day for them. They’re stepping out of the small deli around the corner when they hear the cries of children. Quickly forgetting everything else they run toward the noise and find four children alone in front of a building. Hurriedly they ask them where their parents are and the children explain that they’d ran off and lost sight of their mother’s. Knowing well that they won’t leave them out here alone Stephen and Wong sigh and resolve to forget their peaceful day to instead help the children find their way back. To Stephen’s surprise, of the two of them, Wong turns out to be a natural around children. Knowing exactly how to answer their questions and speak to each of them. Later he explains that he’d often looked after the young one’s in Kamar-Taj.

Stephen can only walk alongside them awkwardly as Wong shows them a few effortless spells and tricks, much to their delight.

 He flinches when he feels a small hand wrap around his own and looks down to find one of the boys pressing close to him. Stephen does his best to offer a kind smile and tries to speak with the boy only to find he doesn’t say anything in return. Briefly he wonders if he boy is hearing impaired or non-verbal and awkwardly tries to sign with his free hand, his past injuries and lack of practice make it awkward though. But when the boy only tilts his head in question Stephen decides not to press further and instead continuing their silent walk. Somehow though he finds himself speaking again, something about the boy makes it easy, like he doesn’t have to worry about being judged or seen as boring. He mostly rambles on about Wong, how his friend always manages to surprise him as he watches the other man lift one of the other children onto his shoulders as the others jump around him. Stephen begins to share with the boy quietly how much he’s come to care for the other man, and how he cherishes him dearly and tells the boy that if he should ever find someone like that to keep them close. Before either of them know it a group of women are running up toward them fussing over the children and they run toward them as well.

 After receiving the women’s unalloyed gratitude for caring for the children and brushing off any compensation they try to offer, they turn to say goodbye to the group. The children practically pounce on Wong telling him they’ll miss him and Stephen can only look on with deep fondness. He turns though when he feels small arms wrap around him and looks down to see the silent boy clinging to him. Stephen’s heart does a little lurch as he gingerly places his arms around him as well. His face breaks out in a grin when the boy tells him a soft goodbye, along with telling him he’ll miss him. As they watch the group leave they can make out the children telling their mothers that their new favorite superheroes are Doctor Strange and Master Wong. When Stephen admonishes Wong about this though the other man only shrugs as they make their way back home. But not before letting Stephen know, “I care about you too, Stephen.”

 The next few weeks pass in a blur, with more monsters than usual and workload by the double. So much work in fact that they’d forgotten to go out for food. Much to their chagrin though they find they’re out of money and their last can of beans has expired. They’re just about to chance the rancid smelling beans when there’s a knock on the Sanctum door. Puzzled they both make their way to answer it and to their astonishment it’s the mother’s from a couple days ago. When they question how they’d found them they merely wave them off, on of them saying something about hearing it from someone at work. Stephen and Wong don’t further question the women though when they present them with a casserole and a peach tart. Grateful for the food they gracelessly offer the ladies inside for some tea. Once inside the women take in all the oddities around the sanctum commenting on their “nice décor” before making their way into the kitchen with them. Once there they can’t help but take in their empty cupboards and shelves and question them on whether or not they’re eating properly. Stephen and Wong can only flush as they try an explain the situation but before they know it the women have already decided that it simply won’t do and start working their way into including two more servings in their future meal preparations. After some pleasant conversation the women leave much to their surprising dismay. And the women don’t give them the chance to say no when they promise to come by in a few days with more food. As Stephen and Wong eat the tart later in the evening they can’t help but feel a little bit of joy fill them.

 The women’s presence becomes permanent from then on, so they can’t help but be confused when the knock at the door one day turns out not to be the women, but rather the ladies they’d helped from the club all those nights ago. With groceries as well, to their bafflement. They explain that they’d been looking for them, and coincidently ran into one of the mother’s of the children at a salon. Through talking they’d come to find where they lived and wanted to thank them for their help. So once again Wong and Stephen open their doors and allow them inside for tea and a little chat. And just like that they now have a new group of people who bring them groceries and sometimes merely stop by to check in on them. And if they stop fussing less and less over the kindness and company, no one says anything.

 When the young man from the jail cell makes his way to the sanctum next, with the two old men no less Stephen and Wong let them in again. The old men are holding bags filled with blankets and coats and the young man carries a tool shed. It seemed one of the women they knew worked with the young man, and had shared their location with him. She’d also told him they’d had a leaky room for weeks now and he’d come to fix it in thanks. The old men meanwhile, lived in the same apartment as him and they too began to talk amongst each other. And learning that the Sorcerer supreme and his associate couldn’t afford heating had come bearing the blankets to keep them warm for the winter. Stephen and Wong are at a loss as they ease in and make themselves comfortable in the sanctum, repairing the roof and settling a box of arancini on their counter for them to eat. But the warmth that spreads through them stops them from even thinking of kicking any of them out as they make tea for each of them.

 Just like that Stephen and Wong are no longer alone in their little corner of the world. Instead, they have Tuesday dinner with the Dian and the other moms, Sunday football with the old men, Monday book club with the Sherry and the other girls from the club, and Friday movie nights with Hector the young man from the jail cell. The routine never stays the same though sometimes even having to jumble them together into one big gathering. And after a few times having to save each of them they catch on to the fact that Doctor Strange and Master Wong aren’t just any old New York City residents, and they understand when plans are cancelled or moved. But Wong and Stephen no longer go hungry, and the sanctum is no longer as cold as it use to be, and though they care for each other they can both admit that the new people in their life are a pleasant change. One that they both enjoy.

 So no, Wong and Stephen do not have fans like the other heroes. Not by a long shot. They have something else entirely. Something that, in their humble opinion is much better. Wong and Stephen have friends, who care for them both dearly. And if they only add up throughout the years that follow, well, they’ve come to enjoy the company anyway.

[sickficsies-and-whumpsies]

Request for @animewhump: she requested a sick!Inumaki, and I’m here to deliver. I hope that this is somewhat good!! Inumaki’s such a complex character to write, and since I haven’t read the manga (yet) everything’s even more complicated, but I did what I could…! Let me know what you think :)

TW in the tags.

////////

Inumaki wakes up feeling not too hot. 

Quite literally. 

Before he has the chance to ask Ieiri for some pills or whatever she is going to deem necessary, Gojou decides to drag Inumaki and the other second years outside, for training. 

Not that he stays with them for long, anyway.

Something comes up, something that needs his attention, so he leaves his students alone, trusting their judgement when it comes to training individually and in groups without adult supervision.

In hindsight, Inumaki thinks, he is glad that Gojou isn’t there now. The teacher would probably sense his student’s discomfort immediately, and he would force him to train even harder. 

Had it been someone else, someone with a little more tact, they would probably ask Inumaki to get some rest, but Gojou is… different, when it comes to handling problems like the one at hand.

Maki dries her forehead, panting slightly. She's sporting shorts and a T-shirt, wearing a cap to protect herself from the boiling sunheat, and Panda definitely looks too hot for comfort.

But Inumaki can't quite understand how.

He keeps pulling at his shirt, trying to wrap it tighter around his quaking shoulders, teeth chattering as if he were bathing in the Pacific Ocean in the middle of December. The sun does nothing to warm his freezing skinー it isn’t, he knows it isn’t, but it sure feels like itー and he is actually convinced that his toes are eventually going to fall off, at this rate.

“-ge, you okay there?” Panda calls, waving a paw from a few meters from where Inumaki is sitting on the grass. Even Maki turns around, cocking a concerned eyebrow at the boy’s unusual stiffness. 

Normally, he’d be participating way more actively, but today something about Inumaki feels indubitably off.

“Inumaki? Hey, are you alrー”

“Salmon.”

Maki is there too, looming behind Panda. She crouches in front of Inumaki, bringing a careful hand forward. “Here, let me…” 

Panda cuts in, approaching him, “You’re shaking pretty bad. Are you sick?”

Inumaki shakes his head, stubborn, averting his gaze, “Bonito flakes.”

Before she makes contact, however, Inumaki bolts upright, knees buckling under his weight. He takes a couple of tentative steps back, staggering, fists clenched at his sides as he snarls, “Bonito flakes!”

“Okay, okay.” Panda calls, eyes wide, taking a step back and extending one arm to force Maki to do the same, “But, huh, are you positive you're fine?”

“Salmon.” he nods, trying to keep the shaking at bay, to no avail. The young sorcerer sluggishly gets up from his spot, stumbling a bit but managing to stay upright. Lilac, half-lidded eyes blink at the offending sunlight that blinds them, and after taking a few steadying breathsー not that it works, reallyー Inumaki heads back to training, ignoring the concerned looks that are being casted in his direction.

Sparring continues without further interruptions, though Inumaki can feel himself getting weaker and weaker as seconds go by, bones freezing despite the melting heat of July. He feels jittery, clammy and wrong. 

Well-aware of the piercing gazes of his friends, evidently keeping an eye on him, he tries to look fine. He doesn't like this, he's never liked being a problem, not when he can't even explicitly explain, not when he's forced to listen to the people around him play guess. 

It's frustrating.

Sweaty palms reach to brush damp ash-grey hair off his forehead, as beads of sweat drip from the messy mane, down his forehead, onto his nose and cheeks.

He feels cold, and yet, he's uncomfortably aware of the heat radiating from his body. Maki’s blows ground him painfully, but he's aware of how dodging continuously will only result in his friends fussing over him, unnecessarily. 

“Put some spirit into it, would you?” Maki grins, cocky, landing another blow that sends the boy stumbling backwards. 

Panda watches from not too far away, humming. 

Maki’s staff jabs at Inumaki’s shoulder, pushing him backwardsー she is definitely holding back, it's painfully obvious at this point. He manages to catch himself from falling, ending up a few steps away from his opponent. His weak knees are bent, and his hands attempt futilely to pry themselves away from the kneecaps they seem glued to. Inumaki struggles with each rasped, shallow inhale, trying to will the thick fog away.

He can't, he can't! 

He needs to straighten up, to protect himself from the upcoming attacks. He's not allowed to slack like that, he needs to be physically strong too, because his technique has its limits, and he knows it far too well.

He knows he needs to focus, he's aware of the others’ gazes on him, and yet, before he can bring his eyes up to meet theirs, his vision flickers. 

The suffocating darkness gets ahold of his being, overwhelms his senses, drags him under, deeper below the surface.

The sorcerer lets out a pitiful yelp, choked.

He's out before he even hits the ground.

Until, he doesn't. 

Maki has seen it coming, she's been able to tell that her friend had been a push away from collapsing for a bit, and the confirmation comes when, after taking a few steps toward him, he doesn't acknowledge her at all, and drops like a sack of wet cement.

She leaps to cross the distance between them when Inumaki starts to bleach alarmingly fast during the fall, revealing the painfully obvious flush on his cheeks and eartips. 

“Inumaki!!”

“Toge!!” Panda cries simultaneously from his position, running toward his friends. Maki hooks her arms under Inumaki’s armpits, and starts to lower him to the ground, wincing at the heat. 

“Damn it, he’s burning up.” she hisses. Maki kneels next to her friend, patting his cheeks as she attempts to rouse him, to no avail.

Panda watches horrified as Inumaki’s face twists in discomfort, mouth gaping as he sputters shapeless sounds, eyelids twitching. He kneels to his other side, silent as Maki grabs Inumaki’s shoulders and shakes him slightly, hoping to make him come to, at last.

And, surprisingly, he does after a moment. 

Inumaki shoots into an upright position with a cry, shaking uncontrollably in Maki’s hold. She can see just how disoriented and delirious her friend is, pinpoint pupils darting around like a deer in the headlights', struggling to breathe.

He’s sweating and shaking, trying to pry himself from the hands on his shouldersー stay back, stay back stay back stay back stay back…!

Maki sees Inumaki's lips start to move, and immediately lets go of him, urging Panda to step back, for their own safety, and Inumaki's, too. If he uses his technique now, he's going to get worse, and right now they can't afford that.

“Inumaki, it's okay, you're okay. It's us, it's Maki and Panda.” she speaks, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible, “You're sick, okay? Do you understand what I'm saying? Inumaki.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, nodding after an instant. The two other sorcerers relax visibly, shoulders sagging in relief.

“Can we come close, please?” Panda asks tentatively. Another nod, frantic.

And so they approach him again, careful with their movements, slow and calculated not to startle him further. Panda nods to Maki, and she nods back, trying to catch Inumaki's shifty gaze.

“I'm going to feel your forehead for a second. Can you tell me what's up?” Maki's tone is soft yet firm, determined to get to the bottom of this. Her slightly calloused hand sets itself onto Inumaki's forehead, and her olive-green eyes widen behind the square spectacles. She hisses without even realising it, and lets her hand shift and move down to touch the side of her friend's neck.

“Yeah, definitely a fever. High, too.”

“Geez, alright.” Panda swallows the lump in his throat. He's always been a bit of a worrywart, especially when it came to his two best friends, “How long have you been feeling sick, Toge? “Why didn't you tell us!?”

“N-nori seawe-ed, soy sau-sauce, rice? Bonito flakes, rice.” Inumaki wheezes, shaky, and collapses, colliding with Panda's fur. The latter frowns, and so does Maki.

“We're notー we didn't get that, sorry.” he apologises, mortified, “Toge, do you think you can text us what's wrong?” Panda adds, handing him his own phone.

Inumaki grabs it with unsteady hands, sweaty brow furrowed as he types, painfully slow. After a minute, he hands the device back to Panda, taking a breather.

I feel bad. My head hurts. It's too cold.

“We should probably get you out of the sun, then.” Panda cues, and Maki nods immediately, grabbing their stuff. 

“Can you carry him?” she asks.

“Yeah, I got him. Call Gojou-sensei in the meantime, please.”

“Already on it.” Maki hums and heads toward Inumaki's room to get it ready, phone held between her ear and shoulder, praying for the teacher to pick up soon. 

“I'm going to lift you, now. Hang in there, alright, bud?” Panda asks, no, pleads, and he feels Inumaki nod, just barely, but it's there and right now, it's all he needs.

As soon as she leaves, Panda lets his gaze fall onto Inumaki's again. Everything about the boy screams discomfort: his already-pale skin has lost even more color, and splotches of red cover his cheeks and ears. His hair is damp, plastered to his face uncomfortably, and Panda delicately brushes it off his eyes.

They're clouded, dull, and it's obvious that he's in pain.

Gently, oh-so carefully, he lifts Inumaki, arms hooked under his knees and behind his back, neck crooked uncomfortably when the boy's head lolls to his side and his face is buried into the fur that tickles his nose.

Panda walks slowly, trying not to jostle the sick sorcerer. He whimpers, half-choked wordsー he wasn't limiting himself to onigiri ingredients anymore, eitherー escaping his trembling lips, eyes fluttering. 

“Shhh, it's alright, Toge. It's okay. We're almost there, your room isn't far. Maki already warned Gojou-sensei, and she's getting the room ready.” he hushes, tender.

Inumaki's dry sob is painfully grounding, and Panda's heart clenches in his chest.

“H'rs…” Inumaki slurs, and Panda almost freezes. It's not a command, per se, so it's not harmful, but he shouldn't be speaking now.

“I'm sorry.” Panda hums, sympathetic and worried, “Try not to talk. Rest. We're close, almost there.”

“Boni-ito fl-flakes.”

“Mh, ‘no’? What do you mean?”

Inumaki groans, fingers fisting the fur. It doesn't hurt, so Panda doesn't really mind. If it helps his friend to distract himself, then he won't tell him to stop.

Panda can feel Inumaki getting more limp, but the boy doesn't look like he's falling asleep, no. Instead, the young sorcerer seems exhausted, spent as if he'd just used his technique ten times in a row, on the brink of fainting.

The Cursed Corpse speeds up, and soon they're in front of Inumaki's room, door slightly ajar.

“I think he's getting worse, he looks so tired…” Panda says, and gingerly lays Inumaki down onto his bed. Maki's fast to take the boy's boots off, and she sets them on the windowsill. 

“Panda, is that you?” Maki calls from the inside, and opens the door for her friends, stepping aside to allow Panda to walk in without making Inumaki bump into the doorframe.

“How is he?”

“I got a thermometer from Ieiri-sensei, and fever reducers if it gets too high.” she says, and Panda hums out in gratitude. 

“And his mission?”

“Inumaki, hey.” Maki calls, running her fingers through his hair, and he only blinks sheepishly in response.

“I'm going to take your temperature. The thermometer's tip is cold, but bear with me for a moment.”

She slides the object under his sweaty armpit, and Inumaki shivers violently. Panda pats his head, and while Maki waits and makes sure that Inumaki doesn't move around too much, she looks at the other.

“Gojou-sensei will be here soon. I asked him to pick up some sports drinks, plus onigiri with pickled plum for Inumaki. Hopefully, he won't take too long.”

“Nothing he couldn't handle.” she reassures, “When I called sensei, he was already done. Ah, he says he got the first-years snacks, but nothing for us.” 

“Cruel of him.” Panda chuckles.

Maki does the same, nodding, “Right!?”

The thermometer beeps, and Inumaki jumps, eyes wide. He coughs and sputters, and soon he's lifted to sit on the mattress, rather than to lie down on it, and a handー a paw－ runs up and down the whole lenght of his spine.

“40°C, fuck.” Maki bits at the same time, glancing at the offending numbers, “We need to cool him down.”

“There, there, breathe through it, Toge.” he says, handing the boy a glass of water that Maki had prepared beforehand.

He helps him drink, holding the glass for Inumaki. The cold liquid drips down his twitching chin, but he swallows a couple of sips and, surprisingly for him, he doesn't choke on it.

“Lukewarm bath. Or shower. Whatever he can handle.” 

Panda hums, “What do you suggest?” 

As they talk, Inumaki throws his head back, evidently against his friends' suggestions, and whimpers a plea, or what his friends have learntー through the yearsー to identify as such.

Before he can tell them to stop, Maki's not there anymore, and he hears her drawing a bath, testing the water to keep the temperature around 32°C, not too cold but cold enough to cool him down. 

Hopefully.

“B-bonito flakes, bonito flー” he coughs again, bringing a fit up to stifle the cough. The glass is once again pressed against his lips, but he pulls away and shakes his head, teeth chattering, stomach twisting. “N-no, no pl-please.”

And, this time, Panda is forcedー quite literallyー to set the glass down. The fog that takes over the Cursed Corpse as Inumaki activates his technique soon fades, and he sighs.

“Toge, you need to stay hydrated. Your fever is very high, your body needs the water. Please, man.”

“Bon-bonito fla-kes.” he coughs, and Panda cringes. Maki pokes her head inside the room.

“Bath's ready. Can you strip him down, please?”

“Sure, but I'm going to leave his underwear on.” Panda nods.

“Duh, I wasn't planning on ever seeing Inumaki butt-naked, thanks. I already have enough trauma to deal with as it is, no need to add more.” Maki laughs, trying to ease the tension. It helps a bit.

Panda lifts Inumaki again and takes him to the bathroom, sitting him down on the lid of the toilet and taking his clothes, minus the boxers, off. Maki grabs the sweaty items and tosses them inside the laundry basket whilst Inumaki is gently lowered inside the water.

As soon as he's under the surface, up to his shoulders, he jerks and thrashes, crying out and sobbing as he struggles. Panda holds Inumaki's head to prevent him from accidentally drowning, whispering half-choked apologies, and Maki gently wipes a damp towel over his forehead and the part of his neck and chest that isn't underwater.

“Bonito flakes, b-bonito flakes!!” he yelps, face twisting up in pain, “Rice, mustard leaf, mu-mustard leaf, soy sauce…”

He's wailing, trying to get rid of the hands that are forcing him to stay inside the bathtub. It hurts, it hurts, it's too cold, he thinks he's dying, he knows he is.

He wants to get out, he's freezing, he's really  freezing. Inumaki doesn't understand why they're doing this to him, he doesn't know what he did wrong, he doesn't know why his friends are punishing him like this.

He vaguely remembers using his technique on Panda, and it only sends him further down the spiral of panic that's clawing at his chest. 

Inumaki's scared, and he's hurting. He just wants to get out of there, he needs to. 

“Has he boiled over yet?” asks someone from the bathroom's doorstep, and he can't turn around, but he wants to, and maybe this person will help him.

Maki's tempted to snap at Gojou, but she doesn't. “Did you get the things I asked you, sensei?”

“Sure I did!” he chirps, waving the plastic bag, “I got cold patches too. Didn't know what brand to get, so I got a bunch of them.” 

Maki and Panda thank their teacher, bowing their heads too. It's been ten minutes since Inumaki's been in the water, so Maki opts to take the boy out of it and into some dry, light clothes. 

Panda helps him out of the tub, and Maki wraps a fluffy towel around his shoulders. Inumaki’s shaking like a leaf, whimpering miserably, and Maki wrapped the towel a little tighter, sighing worriedly. She places the back of her hand onto his forehead, and it feels a bit cooler than before, but they need to dry him off before they can take his temperature accurately again, so Maki asks Panda to hurry while she goes rummage through Inumaki’s drawers, retrieving a pair of clean boxers and a T-shirt.

“Here.” she says, passing the clothes to her friend, “Do you need help to change him?”

“No, I got this, don’t worry.” Panda smiles, though worry seeps clearly through his features.

Maki nods, “Okay, then I’ll pour him a glass of whatever Gojou-sensei bought, and I’ll ready a bowl with water and a towel, for later.” she says. Then, she closes the door behind herself to give the others some privacy.

Gojou is still there, and Maki’s surprised that her teacher’s caring enough to wait and see if his student is actually okay. As if on cue, he chuckles, shrugging, “What, shocked that I’m not as heartless as you kids make me out to be?” 

“We have our reasons, sensei.” she says honest.

“I suppose you do, I’m not going to blame you guys for that.” Gojou laughs. A moment later, Panda comes out, carrying Inumaki. He sits him onto the mattress, back against the bedframe. Gojou tosses Panda the cold patches as he watches from a distance, leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

Panda gently applies it to his friend’s forehead. Maki slides the thermometer under Inumaki’s armpit for the second time that day. It takes longer than the first time, but it’s a good thing, they know it is. As a matter of fact, the results are good, and Maki and Panda exhale in relief.

“39.4°C, more than half a degree lower than before.” Maki says, and Gojou nods satisfied and relieved, even if he wasn’t too worried to begin with, to be fair. 

Inumaki does seem a bit more cognizant, but he’s silent, blinking slowly at his hands that rest on his lap. He swallows, and it’s the signal that friends’ have been waiting for. 

“Here, slowly.” Panda says, helping him to drink from the glass. It’s not water, it’s sweeter and mildly bubbly, Inumaki notices, tempted to drink more. But his stomach’s upset from the heat, so he reluctantly pulls away after three medium sips. 

“Hungry?” Maki says, grinning gently, “Gojou-sensei got you pickled plum onigiri.” 

Inumaki nods, still shivering, and takes the food that Maki hands him with unsteady hands. 

Gojou flashes two thumbs up and leaves without another word. Maki and Panda still bow their heads to express their gratitude as he exits the room.

“Should I ask Shouko to give him some meds?” Gojou asks, yawning as if he were annoyed, “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“Maybe some mild fever reducers? If it doesn’t spike, he’ll be fine, but... better safe than sorry.” Maki says, rubbing soothing circles between Inumaki’s trembling shoulders, not too hard.

Inumaki’s three quarters through his onigiri when he chokes, coughing abruptly and hitting his chest with a weak fist. Maki and Panda both rub at his back, trying to coax whatever got stuck into going down the right tube.

Inumaki’s slightly less pale than beforeー but still paler than averageー and his cheeks aren’t as scorching, and his eyes aren’t as empty and dazed. Still, the fact that he’s been silent for a while is definitely a source of worry.

Maki and Panda exchange a confused look at the expanse of his shoulders, before the latter clears his throat and speaks. “Toge, man, are you alright?”

“Yeah, you haven’t said a word.” adds Maki after a moment.

Inumaki nods, “Salmon.”

But something’s not right, he doesn’t sound convincing at all and even he knows it. He grabs the phone that had been placed on the nightstand, and opens the memo app. 

I’m sorry.

“For what?” Maki and Panda ask in unison. 

I ruined training. And you were forced to take care of me and give me a bath as if I were a child. I’m sorry.

Maki sighs, exasperated, and Panda shakes his head, “Toge, you didn’t ruin anything! And we weren’t forced to take care of you, we wanted to!! You would’ve done the same. You’re good, don’t worry.”

It was embarrassing.

“For you? Maybe. For us? Not one bit.” Maki explains, “Get over your embarrassment already, because you’re the only one who thinks that the need for help is embarrassing. I swear.”

She’s maybe a bit harsh, but she knows she is right, and so does Panda. Inumaki’s face heats up, and it’s not the fever’s fault, but he doesn’t question it. He grabs the hem of his T-shirt and brings it up to cover his mouth and part of his nose, gaze shying away. 

Gojou’s there too now, and he hands Inumaki a little blister with pills, “Here, take one now, and one if the fever isn’t down in six hours.”

Inumaki nods and bows slightly, before he lets Panda lift the glass for him. He drinks a sip, puts the pill on his tongue, and tilts his head to will it down after taking another sip. He coughs a bit, but the pill’s probably long dissolved by now, so it’s not a problem.

Maki smiles tenderly, and pats his back, “Come on now, get some rest. I’ll be back later.”

“Yes, we’re taking turns!” Panda explains to Inumaki, who only blushes further. Maki and Gojou live after waving their hands briefly, and Inumaki goes horizontal.

He’s still cold, but not as much, and his head hurts a bit less. Still, he’s dizzy, and tired. Struggling earlier has left him drained, and Panda’s constant chatter helps him doze off before he can apologise again, or wonder why his underwear is backwards. 

He’ll take care of that after a nice nap.

(3/29/2021)

[channiebbang]

fluttering hearts

synopsis: a cute first date along the night market and the bustling streets of Seoul. A little spark lightens up between laughs, blushing faces and fluttering stomachs.

characters: Mark, Jackson, Main Character

pairing: University Senior!Mark x Univeristy student!MainCharacter

genre: a shit load of fluff

word count: 2.7k

warnings: none

author’s note: this is by far one of my most fluff works lmaoo I'm sorry if there are any mistakes hehe

Y/n shivered as the chilly breeze caressed her bare arms. It wasn't a cold evening at all, the light wind felt nice, but she had been standing for some time now, and her sleeveless dress wasn't helping. She refrained from checking the time on her watch, having done that three times already in the last minute.

She thought at how she came to be in this situation. Dressed in a somewhat semi-fancy dress, a couple of steps away from a fancy restaurant.

Mark Tuan. Her university senior of three years. He was all everyone talked about, kind of like the "It boy", if you will. And for good reasons too. He was polite, soft spoken, gentle and a ball of positivity to be around. Everyone loved him. Professors, deans, students, everyone.

Girls drooled over him, boys admired him. He received confessions left and right from girls and the occasional boys. He had it all. Or so it seemed.

See, Mark may have been showered with attention on the outside, and to some extent he was grateful for all the nice words everyone said to him, but he didn't really feel a connection with anyone other than his few close friends.

In fact, the guy was careful who he talked with and what he said. He was a very reserved person and although he was very respectful he also liked being respected. He knew most of the people that tried to befriend him didn't do it because they actually wanted to be friends. It was either because his dad was rich or it was because being Mark Tuan's friend is benefitting. Words he had actually heard someone say. Or people wanted to date him because in the three years he had been in the university nobody had seen him with anyone that could've been labeled as his girlfriend. So the ladies wanted a piece of him. They wished.

So when he, not only showed interest in Y/n but asked her out everyone was stoked. Out of nowhere a junior had been asked out by Mark. Nobody ever saw the two together, nobody ever saw the two even talk. But once someone overheard Jackson asking one of Y/n friends for her number for Mark, the news spread like wildflower. And you bet your ass Mark didn't speak to Jackson for a solid day, no matter how many times Jackson whined that he was just trying to be a good wingman. In the end he gave in because, c'mon, it's Jackson Wang we're talking about, how could he stay mad at him when he was just trying to help out.

But it's not like Mark landed a date the first time he asked, no sir. In fact, y/n had ignored his dm's when he reached out on Instagram, not wanting to get involved with someone so much on the spotlight. She didn't like attention at all, she had two friends and she was happy to go unnoticed at university.

Of course she knew who Mark was and of course she found him breathtaking, I mean it's not like she was blind and lived under a rock. She knew of his more than good reputation but even then she didn't want to be involved with him in any way. She wanted to focus on her studies, thoroughly.

Because she had two great friends, it was obvious that they didn't agree with her decision and tried to persuade her countless times when she told them that Mark had slid into her dm's. She refused.

So a couple of days had passed when the two groups crossed each other in the hallway and of course y/n's lovely friends decided to greet Mark and his friends, lying later that it was just to show their respect to their senior.

Mark on the other hand was very glad because he had taken it upon himself to greet y/n separately, flashing one of his million dollar smile. She stared at him for a couple of seconds before she bowed her head and muttered a greeting.

When she went back to her shared apartment that night she had been doing homework, well tried to do her homework, because a certain Mark Tuan refused to leave her mind. She felt guilty about not replying to him. It had already been a couple of days but she felt bad because she feared she was being rude.

So, before she changed her mind, she took her phone and replied to his text. And that was how she spent more than three weeks texting with him. She had to admit, Mark was fun to talk to. In that short period of time he somehow managed to soften her up.

He had always a funny remark ready, always ready to help her with her studies, even when she refused thoroughly, worried that it would take away time from his own studies.

So there she was, she had finally accepted his request to go eat something. So she was clad in a soft lilac dress waiting for a certain senior to show up.

It was two minutes later when a car stopped on the side of the road, Mark quickly climbed out of the back of the car after muttering some instructions to the driver and walking to y/n.

Now, y/n knew about Mark's good looks, but this. This was straight up rude. He was dressed in a turtle neck and a long coat and he was breathtakingly gorgeous. So obviously, she gaped at him and totally missed his greeting. Mark chuckled, a wide grin spread on his lips as he waved a hand in front of her eyes. She blinked rapidly clearing her throat, blushing hard when he giggled at her flustered face.

"Hi," he greeted again, "Sorry, I'm late. There was an accident on the way and I had to take another street," he apologized, a mortified smile adorning his features. Y/n smiled shaking her head.

"That's okay, I wasn't waiting for long anyway," she assured him, Mark nodded before throwing a glance at the entrance of the restaurant. A slow blush creeped up his neck and tainted his ears a bright red. Y/n tilted her head sideways, concern written all over her face.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her fingertips lightly brushing over his elbow as he cleared his throat, eyes falling back on her. He found himself staring at her, only then noticing how pretty she looked in her dress and styled hair. He smiled fondly at the white sneakers on her feet, contrasting the rest of her outfit.

"Yup," the tall guy smiled, eyes crinkling, y/n found herself smiling too. She nodded.

"I think I'm way past my reservation time," Mark muttered in embarrassment, fingers scratching behind his ears as he gave y/n an awkward laugh. The blushing explained. Y/n looked at him amused.

"Oh," she mumbled looking back at the entrance of the restaurant before looking back at Mark, a smile on her face.

"How about some street food?" She whispered excited, Mark stared at her, mouth hanging open. Her eyes were sparkling, the widest grin he had ever seen on her graced her lips. She oozed of excitement and adrenaline. Maybe Mark stayed in that position for too long because Y/n's expression slowly fell.

"...or maybe not?" She said unsure, her statement sounding like a question. Was Mark uncomfortable with street food? Her eyes shifted at the high class fancy restaurant and she mentally face palmed. Of course he would be, look at where he wanted to bring you and think about what you offered, ugh.

She felt mortified. She shuffled on her feet, uncomfortable and embarassed to have his eyes on her. She cleared her throat and Mark seemed to come back alive.

"Yes," he breathed out, holy fuck, what was that? He thought. He felt like time had stopped for a couple of seconds too long. Y/n looked at him confused.

"What?" She muttered, eyes wide in confusion. Mark chuckled.

"Let's get street food, I know a market not too far from here. It's a bit crouded but it comes alive at night, let's go," the boy blabbed, before taking a hold of her wrist and starting to walk down the street. Y/n was left dumbfounded, she couldn't grasp onto what just happened.

She stared at Mark, trudging behind him. His long legs taking big strides to where she had to jog a bit to keep up, she didn't complain though. His hand had her wrist in a soft grasp, tight enough not to let her slip away but loose enough not to hurt her.

His dark hair bounced at every step he took, the big smile on his face lighting up his face and his surroundings in a mesmerizing way. Or was that just in her head? She didn't mind though.

Mark, right there, resembled more to an excited child opening up his birthday presents rather than the semi-serious senior she had sometimes seen on campus.

She seemed to come back to her senses when she noticed Mark had been standing on the side of the road, waiting for the streetlight to turn green. One hand in the pocket of his coat while the other still had her wrist in grasp. Mark turned to her and flashed a smile at her, automatically she sent one back.

"We're not too far from it, you'll love it," he assured her, slowly bouncing on his heels, excited.

"Do you go there often?" She asked, just as the light turned green.

"Yupp, usually I'm with Jackson and Yugyeom. Sometimes Jinyoung joins. Oh, and Jaebum too, he's the one who showed us this place," Mark explained, a fond smile on his face when talking about his friends. Y/n smiled up at him.

"You guys seem to be close," she pointed out. Mark sent her a huge grin. The proud look on his face mesmerizing.

"Uhhuh, we've stuck together since middle school," he nodded, "Although, Yugyeom joined us when we were in high school, he's the youngest but we met him in the playground we used to go to play basketball. He was freakishly tall for being so young, we thought he was our age until he started calling us hyung, then we found out he was like 3-4 years younger," Mark laughed, the sound so painfully adorable even y/n found herself chuckling and smiling at him.

"Oh! We're here. Stay close, it's crowded," Mark smiled at her as she nodded. They walked into the market, looking at the various stalls.

Mark, even though on the outside he looked completely fine, was dying on the inside. He had been holding on her wrist for a long time. Was it weird? Did she feel uncomfortable? Was it rude? Is he dumb? What the heck? All these thoughts were running wild in his mind. But nonetheless, he didn't particularly want to let go of her, so he didn't. Don't ask him where that courage boost came from because he didn't know.

He slowly let go of her hand and y/n would be lying if she didn't feel disappointed. What? Well sure, it's not like she wanted to go on a date with him at first but Mark had a way with people and she surely understood now why so many people liked him. Mark Tuan, despite his reputation and all the love he received from people, was a humble gem. He was ordinary, the kind of ordinary that makes you feel comfortable and at ease.

A blush crept up the duo's necks when Mark took a hold of y/n's hand. Mark stopped breathing for a second, testing the waters. Seeing if she'd pull back. But she didn't, and so he engulfed her hand in his. She looked the other way, hoping, wishing, she wasn't blushing too much.

"Hey," Mark whispered, tilting his head down to her height so that she could hear him.

"Huh?" She hummed, turning back around to look at him. Only her movement was a bit too fast, and before he could retreat to his previous height, her face was right in front of his. Her breath hitched in her throat, his features more clear, vivid, at the close proximity.

Mark straightened up, clearing his throat. He cursed under his breath, before taking a deep breath and turning to face her with a cheeky smile on his lips. He raised their clasped hands and shook it a bit.

"Hope you don't mind?" He giggled adorably, the sound making y/n forget about their previous awkwardness. She shook her head.

"I don't," she smiled at him.

The two walked along the stalls of the market, laughing and enjoying their time and food. They stopped at many stalls to try various things. Mark was glad that y/n wasn't one of those stuck up girls that didn't know how to enjoy this kind of places. The loud atmosphere, the tight and crowded street, the warm air, the strong smell of food. He was glad he could share this with someone that like him, didn't mind all those things.

Mark looked at the girl walking one step infront of him. She had tied her hair up with a clip, a couple of loose strands framing her face, her bag was hung across her chest so she had both of her arms free. His coat, too warm for the already hot air, was thrown over her bag. He had told her he could have just carried it on his arm but she insisted that he needed both of his hands to eat.

He looked at her as her eyes scanned over the stalls they walked past. Her eyes were shining with amazement, a wide smile lit up her face. In a way, he was glad he was late and his reservation got cancelled. He had a feeling they wouldn't have had this much fun if they had dined there.

Mark kept his eyes on the girl, it was happening again. As clichè as it sounds it felt as if time slowed down, all the noise around him seemed to fade away, everything sounded as if he was underwater, everything but her blurred out. It was as if he was looking at her through a camera lense and he had focused only on her, everything else just a meaningless background that he didn't particularly care about. All he could see was her.

Her beautiful smile, her shining eyes, the hair strands framing her face, her collarbones, the thin necklace adorning her neck. All he could focus on was her. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, he couldn't understand this feeling at all. But he didn't want it to end, he wanted to drown in this feeling, this emotion, he wanted it to always be like this. If he knew what the feeling of being drugged was, this was it.

If happiness and contentment had come his way, he didn't know, but he hoped. He really hoped this was it. He hoped that feeling of being full of something, feeling warm inside, that everyone talked about, that happiness that people associated with various things, he hoped he had finally found it. And fuck, if that was what happiness and contentment and being at home felt like, god, he wanted to feel like this everyday.

Y/n scolded herself mentally as Mark took her hand in his again. His eyes were focused somewhere else, his action seemed spontaneous and if it wasn't, y/n wouldn't know and she was okay with not knowing. She smiled as she too averted her eyes around herself.

She scolded herself for not answering Mark's dm earlier, she scolded herself for not going on a date earlier but then again, maybe that is exactly why this felt so good. Maybe letting things happen at their own pace was the right thing to do.

So she told herself not to ponder about what was already in the past too much, she told herself to enjoy her time with Mark now and for as long as she could.

She didn't know why and how Mark made her feel so comfortable and how she felt at ease around him. But she did and surprisingly that's all that she found important. She told herself not to overthink what was happening and to just let everything happen on its own.

Their laughter mixing with the loud chatter and laugh of the people around them as they enjoyed their silly banters and jokes. The chilly breeze didn't feel so cold anymore as y/n walked beside Mark, hand in hand, arms pressed against each other, as they talked about what to try next.

[buckybarnesdollface]

Body Shot

Warnings: Smut

Summary: Drinking games are never a good idea after a mission...Or are they?    

           “Whose brilliant idea was it to get drunk after a mission, anyway?” I groaned. I had just downed my fourth tequila shot of the night and was now trying desperately to get the taste out of my mouth with a beer. Sam laughed.

           “It was your idea, genius,” he replied. “You’re the one that was like ‘We should all get drunk tonight’ as soon as we stepped off the quinjet.”

           I groaned again and rolled my eyes. “Sober me is a real dick.”

           “Oh c’mon, (Y/N),” Nat teased. “We’re having fun! It’s not our fault you’re terrible at drinking games.”

           I glared at her, but it was true. I don’t know how it happened, but it seemed every game we played I lost, to the point where I was the most drunk out of all of us. Most of them I could understand – Steve and Bucky were supersoldiers, it would take a lethal amount of alcohol to get them drunk. Nat had a very high tolerance, as most Russians did. Sam and Wanda could handle about the same amount that I could, but yet they weren’t anywhere near as drunk as I was.

           “It’s not fair,” I grumbled. “These games are all rigged. I think you should let me pick the game.”

           Steve snorted. “You know very well these games aren’t rigged, (Y/N),” he said, “but if it makes you feel any better then alright, you can choose the next game.”

           I grinned wickedly. This was my time to shine.

           “Beer pong,” I stated. “That’s my choice. Somebody help me set it up.”

           “I’m down for beer pong,” Sam said, and Wanda nodded.

           “Me, too.”

           “How are you going to play beer pong, (Y/N)?” Nat teased. “You’re so drunk you likely can’t even stand up, let alone throw a ping pong ball into a cup.”

           Always a competitor, I glared at her. “I’ll have you know I won a championship in university for beer pong,” I said indignantly. “I’m a pro. You had all better be scared.”

           Wanda laughed, and Sam shook his head. “They’ll let anyone be an Avenger now, won’t they?” he said, and I reached over to elbow him in the gut.

           “Where did Bucky go, anyway?” Natasha asked. “Is it getting past the old man’s bedtime? Are we young ‘uns too much for him to handle?”

           “He went to put more beer in the fridge for you alcoholics,” Steve chuckled, “and I asked him to bring back some food for our drunker companions.”

           His eyes shot over to me, and my own eyes narrowed. “I’m not that drunk!” I argued. ���Look, I’ll prove it.”

           I pushed myself up off the couch, and immediately regretted it. I hadn’t stood in awhile and all the blood rushed to my head, making me dizzy. I gave myself a couple of seconds to balance myself and then took a few steps forward.

           “See?” I said. “I’m completely fine.” As if to prove my point, I tried to do a twirl. However, I overestimated my ability to balance and stumbled, tripping over my own feet. Before I could fall, though, a strong arm was hooked around my waist to steady me.

           “Careful, doll,” Bucky murmured, and I felt my cheeks grow red. I straightened up and pulled away, mumbling an embarrassed “Thank you,” to him; I could hear Nat and Wanda snickering to my left and I shot them a dirty look before flopping back down onto the couch between them.

           “I think Steve meant for those nachos to be for (Y/N), Bucky,” Wanda said pointedly, and my blush deepened. Bucky turned to me with a small smile.

           “They’re fresh,” he said. “Eat up – You’ll feel better.”

           “Thanks,” I mumbled, completely mortified at this point. Bucky nodded and then turned to hand Steve the beer he’d brought him before cracking open his own and returning to his seat in the armchair.

           “So what are we gonna play, then?” Wanda asked. “Beer pong is out, and (Y/N) needs a break from taking shots, but I’m not ready to go to bed yet.”

           The rest of the group nodded their collective agreements, and Nat grinned wickedly. I knew that grin. It could only mean trouble.

           “Well why don’t we play truth or dare, then?” she suggested, waggling her eyebrows. “It’s fun, and the only reason you’d have to take a shot is if you refuse to answer the question or do the dare given to you.”

           Sam nodded eagerly. “I’m in,” he exclaimed. “I’m a pro at the dares.”

           “Me too,” Wanda agreed with a grin. Steve nodded too.

           “Sure, why not. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

           Bucky and I were the only two that hadn’t said anything. Bucky tended to keep to himself most of the time and was a very private person, so I was surprised when he finally nodded as well.

           “Could be fun,” he murmured, and Nat grinned.

           “Perfect,” she breathed. “(Y/N), how about you?”

           I wanted to say no. Nat was way too excited about this for it to just be an innocent game of truth or dare, and she knew too many of my weaknesses for it to be safe for me. Five pairs of eyes were looking at me expectantly, though, and finally I sighed.

           “Fine,” I said, and the triumphant look on her face made me wary.

           “So who goes first?” Steve asked.

           “You’re up, old man,” Sam said to him with a smirk. “Truth or dare?”

           Steve narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust your dares,” he said, “so truth.”

           “Has a girl ever asked you to wear the Captain America outfit in bed?”

           Steve’s cheeks were pink, but he nodded. “Yes, once,” he admitted, and the room erupted into hoots of laughter.

           “Did you do it?” Nat asked, but Wanda shook her head.

           “Go easy on him. One question only,” she chuckled, and then she turned to Sam. “Truth or dare, Sam?”

           “Dare, obviously,” he said, as if offended that she’d even had to ask.

           “I dare you to replace Clint’s Cocoa Puffs with dog food,” she said, and the room all looked at her with wide eyes.

           “He’ll kill everyone when he finds out!” I breathed. “Clint lives off those things.”

           Wanda shrugged. “He ate the last cinnamon bun the other day. This is payback.”

           Sam, not being one to ever back down from a dare, dumped the cereal down the garbage disposal and refilled the box with the kibble that Peter had for the dog Tony had let him keep after he’d claimed it had “followed him home” one day. Sam came back to the common room with a mischievous grin on his face.

           “Done,” he said. “Your turn, Natasha. Truth or dare?”

           “Dare,” Nat replied boldly, one red eyebrow cocked as if challenging him to do his worst.

           “I dare you to hack into the compound’s database and change ‘Tony Stark’ to ‘Tony Stank’ so that’s what comes up on every last piece of paperwork and in every file.”

           I laughed. “Do it,” I urged. “Rhodey will lose it when he sees it.”

           Smirking, Nat pulled her laptop out from under the coffee table. For a few minutes she stared at the screen with her brows knitted together as she typed furiously, and then she looked up triumphantly. “Done,” she told us. “I even reprogrammed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to call him Mr. Stank.”

           “I love you,” Wanda breathed as we all tried to catch our breaths from laughing. Nat grinned.

           “Okay, my turn,” she giggled, and when her eyes met mine I froze. She opened her mouth to speak, but then turned instead to Bucky. “Truth or dare, Buck? You’re a little too quiet over there.”

           Bucky hesitated before he finally said, “Truth,” and even then he sounded unsure of himself.

           “Are you a guy that appreciates tits or an ass more?” Nat asked, and Steve nearly choked on his drink. Sam grinned from ear to ear, and I expected Bucky to look uncomfortable but he scrunched his nose before finally saying, “Definitely the latter.”

           “Smart man,” Sam said, and Bucky grinned ruefully before turning to Wanda.

           “Truth or dare, Wanda?”

           “Truth,” she replied.

           “Do you ever use your powers to get your own way?”

           Wanda had the decency to at least pretend to look offended, but the sparkle in her eyes gave away the truth before she even said anything. “Maybe…” she admitted, dragging out the word. “But in my defense, the woman at the DMV was a bitch.”

           “You used your powers to get your license?” I cried in disbelief. Steve shot her a stern look.

           “We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” he said, and Wanda rolled her eyes.

           “Oh, lighten up, Steve. Truth or dare?”

           “Dare.”

           “I dare you to drink some of Thor’s Asgardian liquor.”

           Steve shook his head. “That’s Thor’s, I can’t just take it –”

           “If he were here he’d insist you drink it,” Sam argued. “Besides, it’s the only thing that’ll get you and Frosty over there drunk. It’s about time you stop drinking beers like they’re water.”

           Bucky scowled at the nickname Sam so often liked to call him, but Steve sighed. “Fine, I’ll have one drink,” he said. “Buck, you want one?”

           “Is it really enough to get us drunk?” Bucky asked, and Nat grinned. She had already retrieved the bottle and poured them each a glass.

           “Find out for yourself.”

           The guys each took a sip. Steve had tried it before so he knew what to expect, but Bucky hadn’t and when it touched his tongue his face scrunched up. We all laughed and he shook his head.

           “It’s so bitter,” he choked, and Steve chuckled.

           “You get used to it. Just take it slow; that one glass is all you’ll need,” he explained before turning to Nat. “Truth or dare, Nat?”    

           “Ask me a question, Captain.”

           “Did you sleep with that pizza delivery guy the other night?”

           She grinned wickedly. “Yep. Wasn’t bad, either.”

           “You are incorrigible,” I chuckled quietly, and Nat turned to me.

           “What was that, drunkie?” she asked, and I cursed myself for drawing her attention to me. “You’ve somehow managed to stay out of the spotlight so far, (Y/N); we’ll have to fix that. Truth or dare?”

           I swallowed hard, weighing my options. If I answered with truth then she would most certainly make me reveal something that I didn’t want a certain someone in the room to know. If I chose dare, then god knows what she would make me do. But I couldn’t forfeit either, because I really didn’t think my stomach could handle another shot this early on.

           “Truth,” I finally said begrudgingly, knowing I could at least be creative with my answer if I had to be. She smirked, and I immediately regretted my choice.

           “When was the last time you got laid?”

           I blushed, but it could have been much worse. Glaring at her, I mumbled, “It’s been a year.”

           Of course, Nat had already known this – She was only stirring the pot. Wanda had known as well so she didn’t react. Sam’s eyes widened.

           “A year? Jesus, girl, how are you not more uptight than you are?” he cried. My blush deepened.

           “I’ve been busy, alright? Not all of us are naturally skilled in being a superhero. I have to train twice as much as all of you; it takes up a lot of time.” I frowned. “I answered Nat’s question, now let’s drop it. Sam, truth or dare?”

           “Dare.”

           I thought for a moment. “I dare you to pick a random number from the phone book and try to seduce whoever answers.”

           “It’s one in the morning on a Tuesday,” Steve said. “Who’s gonna pick up the phone?”

           “New York is the city that never sleeps, Steve,” Nat pointed out. “Someone will answer.”

           So Sam did it. He called a number, and an old man answered. We all had to stay quiet because he had it on speakerphone, but when the old man started getting unsettlingly into it and Sam’s face twisted in disgust Bucky snickered and we all burst into laughter. Nat quickly hung up the phone and Sam shook his head.

           “Nasty-ass man, Christ,” he groaned. “I vote we play something else now.”

           “Oh, c’mon, Sam, I thought you were the king of dares,” I taunted. “You said you would do anything.”

           “I draw the line at strange old men wanting to get in my pants.”

           We all chuckled, but Nat shook her head. “I have too many good ideas to stop playing now,” she said, and then she arched an eyebrow at Sam. His brow furrowed, but then his eyes widened as if he had just made a realization and he grinned.

           “Fine, we can keep playing, but it’s my turn to deal out some punishment.” His eyes scanned the room and landed on Bucky. “Frosty!” he exclaimed. “Truth or dare?”

           “How many times have I told you not to call me that?” he grumbled. “Dare, I guess.”

           Sam smirked. “Atta boy. I dare you to do a body shot.”

           “Off of you?” Bucky’s nose wrinkled. “Absolutely not.”

           “Off of (Y/N),” Nat offered, and my eyes widened. I looked at her in horror, but she was looking at Bucky expectantly. He won’t do it, I told myself. It amazed me that he had even put up with us for this long instead of going to bed. Surely this would be where he drew the line.

           “Alright,” he said with a shrug, “as long as (Y/N)’s alright with it.”

           I coughed, and Nat grinned. “Of course she is!”      

           “I don’t know…” I started, but Nat was already pouring tequila into a shot glass.

           “Lie flat on the table so it doesn’t spill,” she ordered, and she gave me a look that said if I didn’t cooperate, she would make me. Pursing my lips, I laid down on the table, and she set the shot glass on my belly button after sliding my shirt up some. Then she spread a line of lime juice on my stomach and sprinkled salt over top of it. I wanted to protest – It was way too close to the waistband of my leggings for comfort, but she was already motioning for Bucky to come over.

           “Hands behind your back,” she ordered. “Pick up the shot glass with your mouth and –”

           “I know how to do a body shot,” Bucky said indignantly, and Nat shrugged.

           “Just had to be sure. You never know with you old guys.”

           Bucky shot her a look of annoyance before coming to stand next to me. “You sure you’re alright with this, (Y/N)?” he murmured. My throat was too dry to say anything but I nodded, even though my heart felt like it was going to hammer right out of my chest. Shooting me a shy smile, Bucky clasped his hands behind his back and bent down to wrap his lips around the rim of the shot glass, downing the tequila in one gulp. Nat took the shot glass from him and then he leaned in to lick the salt and juice from my skin.

           His tongue was soft and warm, and as he dragged it across my stomach I could feel goosebumps prickle my skin. I had to bite my tongue to keep from whimpering, and then he was pulling away all too soon. He gave me an embarrassed smile as he straightened, and then offered a hand to help me off the table. I took it, though the dizziness I felt wasn’t from the alcohol in my bloodstream.

           “Steve, you’re up,” Bucky said as he sat back down in the armchair. “Truth or dare.”

           “Dare.”

           “I dare you to tell everyone what happened that night with Mandy White.”

           Steve’s face darkened as he glared at his best friend. “That’s not fair, jerk. We promised we’d never talk about that night again.”

           Bucky had a wicked grin on his face – A look I’d never seen on him before. I wondered if the Bucky that Steve knew from all those years ago was this Bucky now; carefree, light and mischievous.

           “Who’s Mandy White?” Wanda asked, and Bucky cocked an eyebrow.

           “Tell them, Stevie.”

           “She’s a prostitute,” he finally grumbled. “Buck and I were in high school and we snuck into a bar in Brooklyn. This dame – Mandy – took an interest in me right off the bat.” He shook his head in disgust. “That should have been the first clue, but I was a dumb kid. I didn’t clue in till she pulled me into the bathroom and told me she’d let me do whatever I wanted to her for the right price.”

           Bucky was howling with laughter, as were Sam and Nat. Wanda was giggling, and I was biting my lip to keep from laughing because I knew Steve was already embarrassed enough.

           “Poor Stevie,” I breathed. “Look at it this way, though; you’re Captain America now. If you met her now, she’d probably pay to have sex with you.”

           Steve scowled at me. “Yes, (Y/N), because that makes me feel so much better,” he said. “Moving on. Truth or dare?”

           I bit my lip, but Steve wasn’t a threat. He was too sweet to play along with whatever Sam and Nat had going on.

           “Truth,” I said, and Steve grinned.

           “Have you ever had inappropriate thoughts about another member of the team?”

           Sam whooped and Nat was smirking. Cheeks hot, I narrowed my eyes. “Yes, right now,” I hissed. “Does contemplating kicking all your asses count as inappropriate?”

           “Easy, (Y/N),” Nat chuckled. “You know that’s not what Steve meant.”

           I scowled. “I’ll pass. Hand me the tequila.”

           Steve shook his head. “Uh-uh, no more shots for awhile,” he ordered. “I never asked you to tell us who. Just answer the question with a yes or no.”

           I sucked in a sharp breath, casting my eyes to my hands. “Yes,” I finally admitted, and I could practically feel the satisfaction rolling off of Natasha. Pursing my lips, I stood. “I’m gonna go get some water, I’ll be right back.”

           I left the common room, my cheeks burning. Just as I’d expected, Nat followed me out to the kitchen, and I turned on her.

           “What the hell are you doing?” I snapped. She gave me an innocent look.

           “I don’t know what you’re talking about, (Y/N).”

           “The fuck you don’t. I expected it from you and maybe Wanda, but Sam and even Steve?” I shook my head in disbelief. “When I told you I liked Bucky, that was in confidence, Nat. The last thing I needed was for you to tell his best friend!” I groaned and sat down at the island, burying my face in my hands. “Now everyone’s gonna know…”

           “I didn’t tell anyone, (Y/N), and I’m offended that you think I would,” Nat told me. “I wouldn’t have to tell anyone anyway. Everyone in the compound knows how you feel about Barnes.”

           My head shot up. “What?” I hissed, and Nat shrugged.

           “I mean, you are an excellent fighter, but when it comes to hiding your emotions you’re terrible,” she said. “Everyone can see it.”

           I felt as if I were going to be sick. “Does he know?” I whispered in a panic.

           “Nope.” Nat shook her head. “But he’s probably the only one. The guy has to be pretty clueless.”

           I shook my head. “So this whole game thing was just everyone trying to push us together?”

           “We’re all rooting for you, (Y/N),” Nat chuckled. “We want you to be happy, and we all want Barnes to stop being so antisocial, too.” She cocked her head to the side. “Although he’s a lot more fun tonight than he’s ever been before.”

           “He’s not antisocial, he’s just nervous to get close to people,” I defended, and Nat grinned.

           “Which is why we’re giving you both gentle nudges towards each other. Now come back out. I promise I won’t put you in any more awkward situations if you promise to loosen up and flirt a little with him.”

           “I wouldn’t know what to say –”

           “(Y/N), I’ve seen you charm even the most sour of people. Just be yourself and stop being so nervous.”

           So I followed her back out to the common room. I noticed that everyone had changed seats, and the only free space was the spot next to Bucky on the couch. I suspected Nat had something to do with this and I shot her a look but she was all of a sudden very interested in her drink. Biting my lip, I sat down next to Bucky.

           “Hope you’re recovered enough to play another drinking game,” Sam said to me, and I narrowed my eyes.

           “Why?”

           “Never have I ever!” Wanda exclaimed. “I’ll start. Never have I ever been arrested.”

           Everyone but me drank, but even if I had meant to I couldn’t. I’d finished my last beer and hadn’t bothered to get another drink. After Bucky set down his own drink he reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a glass, handing it to me.

           “Vodka lime,” he said, and then he gave me a rueful smile. “Steve told me it was your favourite so I mixed you up one when I got myself a drink.”

           “Thank you,” I murmured, in shock that he’d even thought of me. He grinned.      

           “I would have given it to you a minute ago, but I figured you wouldn’t need to drink,” he chuckled. “You’re too new to the team to have ever been arrested before.”

           I ducked my head, blushing. Before I could say anything, though, Sam was speaking.

           “Never have I ever,” he said, “made out with an Olympic athlete.”

           No one drank but Sam, and we all groaned.

           “Sam, you gotta stop bringing that up,” Steve said. “We get it. You made out with Genie Bouchard in a bar in Montreal once. We’ve heard the story a hundred times.”

           Sam frowned. “Well sorry if y’all haven’t led as exciting a life as me.”

           Bucky rolled his eyes. “My turn,” he said. “Never have I ever thrown up on the Cyclone at Coney Island.”

           Steve was the only one to drink this time, and Bucky snickered when he shot him a dirty look. Natasha shook her head.

           “The point is to pick statements that more than one person can drink to, guys, c’mon,” she said. “Never have I ever had sex in a public place.”

           Everyone but Steve and Wanda drank this time. I was surprised when Bucky lifted his glass to his lips to take a drink, but then I remembered that Steve had told me that Bucky had been quite the ladies’ man back in their day. It was just so hard to picture the surly, quiet man beside me having ever been a big flirt.

           “Never have I ever stolen a car,” Steve offered, and everyone but Wanda and I drank. Nat narrowed her eyes at Steve.

           “That truck we stole to get to Jersey, you called it ‘borrowing’,” she said, using her hands to make air quotes around the last word. Steve shrugged.

           “It is what it is.”

           “Alright.” I clapped my hands together to draw everyone’s attention back to the game. “Never have I ever had sex on at least three different continents.”

           Nat, Wanda, Sam and I all drank. Bucky frowned.

           “Two,” he murmured. “So close.”

           Steve cocked an eyebrow at him and he grinned.

           “If you think there weren’t some European girls that didn’t want a night with an American sergeant then you’re crazy, Steve,” he teased, and Steve rolled his eyes. I pursed my lips, not wanting to think of Bucky with other girls. Nat must’ve seen my face because she quickly changed the subject.

           “Never have I ever,” she said, “fallen asleep during sex.”

           Only her and Sam drank, and I laughed. “Must have been pretty bad to have fallen asleep,” I remarked, and Nat rolled her eyes.

           “I hate vanilla sex,” she groaned, “and this guy was as boring as it gets.”

           “I was just really tired,” Sam explained. “The girl I was with got very offended, though. She left and wouldn’t answer any of my calls after that.”

           “I don’t blame her,” Bucky snorted. “You don’t leave a girl hanging like that, no matter how tired you are.”

           I bit my lip, feeling my cheeks warm at his words. Before him and Sam could get into one of their infamous disputes, however, Wanda spoke up.

           “Never have I ever had a sex dream about someone on the team.”

           Sam narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s not fair, you’re dating someone on the team,” he accused, referring to Vision. Wanda shrugged.

           “I stand by my statement,” she said as she took a drink.

           Begrudgingly, Sam took a drink, and then so did Nat and even Steve. I hesitated; of course, I’d had multiple, with the man sitting right next to me having starred in all of them. Cheeks burning, I finally lifted my glass to my lips to take a gulp while keeping my eyes downcast. Just when I thought I was the last one, out of the corner of my eye I saw Bucky take a drink. I tried not to overthink it, but my mind was racing. There were only so many women on the team, and I was going to drive myself mad wondering which one he had dreamt about.

           “Well, my drink is gone,” Wanda said, interrupting my thoughts, “and that’s probably it for me. I’m definitely feeling it now. If I want to get up at all tomorrow I should quit while I’m ahead.”

           Nat frowned. “Don’t go to bed yet!” she protested. “It’s still early.”

           “It’s two in the morning,” Steve snorted.

           “We could do something that doesn’t involve drinking, if y’all wanna stay up,” Sam suggested. “Poker?”

           Steve and Bucky agreed enthusiastically, as did Nat. Wanda shook her head.

           “Vis is probably waiting for me to go to bed. I should probably head upstairs.”

           We said goodnight to her, and then Steve looked at me. “(Y/N), you want to play?”

           “I don’t know how,” I admitted, and Steve shrugged.

           “We can teach you.”

           “No, you guys go ahead and play. I’ll stay up and watch, though. I’m not quite ready for bed yet.”

           So Nat found a deck of cards and the game started. I settled myself into the cushions of the couch with my legs crossed underneath me, nursing the rest of my vodka lime. Bucky looked over to me, a playful grin on his face.

           “Now don’t go tellin’ anyone what cards I’ve got, doll,” he teased, and with some of Thor’s liquor in him his Brooklyn accent was coming out. It was the first time I’d heard it and I smiled.

           “No worries,” I giggled, still feeling the effects of the alcohol myself. “I’ll keep my poker face on.”

           Steve snorted. “You’re in trouble then, Buck,” he warned. “(Y/N) has a terrible poker face.”

           I pouted at Steve, but Bucky shot me a warm smile. “I trust her,” he murmured, and my insides warmed. I gave him a shy smile in return, and he winked at me before turning his attention back to the game.

           For awhile I was enjoying watching them. There probably wasn’t a better group out there to watch – Each of them had perfected their poker faces. Years of military experience, and in Nat and Bucky’s cases years of being assassins and spies, would have trained them to know how to hold a blank face. They had also been drinking, though, and would slip up every once in awhile. I took note of each of their tells; Sam would scrunch his nose, Steve would rub the back of his neck, Nat’s eyes would dart quickly between the four of them, and the muscle in Bucky’s jaw would twitch.

           As hard as I tried to keep up, however, eventually it got too difficult. The lack of rest I’d gotten on the mission was finally catching up to me, and the liquor as well as just sitting there not doing anything wasn’t helping. I yawned, and Nat looked across the table at me.

           “Not you, too,” she said, and I shook my head.

           “I’m good,” I told her, even though I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. Steve chuckled.

           “You’re stubborn as hell is what you are,” he taunted, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

           “I can go for hours.”

           But I could not. Not long after I could feel myself drifting, and I kept trying to force myself awake but my body wasn’t having it.

           “(Y/N), you really should go to bed,” Sam told me. “You look like you’re barely awake over there.”

           I wanted to argue, but I knew he was right so I just nodded instead. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna turn in for the night,” I murmured. I stretched out my legs and made to stand, but it had been a couple of hours since I’d been on my feet and with the liquor still running through my bloodstream, I was a little dizzy and stumbled a bit.

           The next thing I knew, Bucky was up and at my side, a hand on my back to steady me.

           “Easy, doll,” he murmured. “You alright?”

           I blushed. “Just tired,” I mumbled. “And I need some water, I think.”

           Bucky nodded, and then he slipped his arm around my waist. “Let’s get you some water and then make sure you get to bed, then,” he murmured, and he turned to look at the others. “I fold the next few rounds, I’m gonna take care of (Y/N) and then I’ll be back.”

           I’m pretty sure Nat was giving me a look but I didn’t turn around to check before Bucky was leading me out of the common room. When we got to the kitchen he sat me in a stool before going to pour me a glass of water. When he came back over, my eyes were half-lidded and he let out a soft chuckle before shaking his head.

           “We need to get you to bed,” he said. “You’ve had a long few days. D’you think you can make it to the elevator?”

           “Yeah,” I mumbled, sliding out of the stool onto my feet unsteadily. With my glass of water in one hand, Bucky set his other hand on my back and led me to the elevator.

           “(Y/N)’s floor please, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Bucky said to the AI.

           “Right away, Sergeant Barnes.”

           The elevator began to move, and I leaned heavily against Bucky. He was warm and he smelled like soap, and I could feel myself drifting.

           By the time the elevator stopped, I was barely awake. Without hesitating and without any difficulty, Bucky gathered me in his arms bridal-style and carried me down the hall to my room. I laid my head on his shoulder and my arms wound loosely around his neck, and all I could think was that I was comfortable enough to fall asleep right there.

           Bucky opened my door and carried me inside without switching on the lights. He set my water on the bedside table before gently lowering me to the bed, and then he reached for the water, handing it to me.

           “Drink some, doll,” he urged, “or you’ll regret it in the morning.”

           I gulped down a few mouthfuls before setting the glass back on the bedside table clumsily. “Thank you,” I mumbled, “for taking care of me.”

           Bucky gave me a warm smile that sent my heart fluttering. “No worries, doll. Now get some sleep, okay? You need it.”

           “So do you,” I said quietly, and when his brow furrowed I continued. “You barely slept ten hours the whole week we were on the mission.”

           He shook his head and chuckled. “You don’t miss much, do you?” he mused, and then he gave me another smile. “I promise to get some sleep if you do. Goodnight, (Y/N).”

           “Night,” I mumbled. He had turned and nearly made it to the door when something – most likely the liquor – drove me to do what I did next. “Bucky?” I said softly.

           He stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to me. “What is it, doll?”

           “Will you stay with me?”

           My voice had been barely above a whisper and for a minute I thought maybe he hadn’t heard me, but then I remembered that being a supersoldier there was no doubt that he had heard it. His eyes widened slightly, and then he pursed his lips.

           “(Y/N), I don’t know –”

           “Please?” I bit my lip. “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

           He looked torn, but finally he crossed the room and motioned for me to slide over. I did, and he pulled back the covers for me to crawl under before following me.

           “Come here, doll,” he murmured, stretching out his arm across the pillow, and I scooted closer to snuggle into his side. He tugged me close, and between the warmth of his body and the steady, even rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took, it wasn’t long before I started drifting. I vaguely remembered feeling something – his lips, maybe? – brush against my temple lightly, and then I was out.

           When I woke up the next morning, my whole body felt heavy and I regretted drinking so much right after a gruelling mission. I stretched, letting out a soft groan, but my movements disturbed the arm that had been draped loosely across my stomach. I froze – I had forgotten in my drunken state that I had asked Bucky to stay the night, and now I was panicking. Before I could even try to come up with a way out of this situation, though, Bucky was shifting and blinking his eyes open.

           “Hey, doll,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. “How are you feelin’?”

           “Hungover,” I admitted in a small voice, and Bucky chuckled. He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes.

           “I actually think I might be, too,” he said. “I haven’t been hungover in decades. That Asgardian alcohol is killer.” He paused, and then looked over at me. His blue eyes were tired, but he looked more at ease than I think I’d ever seen him. “Did you sleep well?” he asked me.

           I bit my lip, then nodded. “I did,” I told him, blushing. “You?”

           Bucky’s smile was warm. “Better than I have in awhile,” he admitted.

           “I’m sorry if asking you to stay last night was weird,” I blurted out, and then ducked my head. “I was drunk and overtired and –”

           I didn’t get to finish my explanation, however, because all of a sudden Bucky was leaning in to close the distance between us. His lips pressed to mine and my body froze even though my mind was screaming at me to do something while my heart was nearly hammering out of my chest.

           Bucky pulled away, his cheeks tinted pink. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I wanted to do that all night last night but everyone was always around and then you were so tired…”

           I blinked. He was looking at me with increasingly worried eyes, and finally I found my voice.

           “Wait – You wanted to kiss me?”

           “That’s what I said,” he chuckled, and then he bit his lip. “Is that okay?”

           Instead of answering, I pulled his face back to mine. He caught on quickly, rolling his body so that he was overtop of me as our lips connected, his flesh hand coming up to cradle my head while he used his metal arm to support himself. His tongue probed at my lips until they yielded to him, and as our breaths mingled together my hands reached up to grip at Bucky’s waist.

           “You have no idea how hard it was holding myself back from taking you upstairs last night after that dare with the body shot and doing this then,” Bucky murmured, skimming his nose along my jaw and then kissing my throat lightly. My breath hitched and I felt him smile against my skin. “You like that, doll?”

           “Yes,” I whispered, my voice thick. Bucky pulled away enough to look at me, his blue irises nearly swallowed up by his lust-blown pupils, but there was a softness there as well as he smiled at me.

           “Good,” he murmured, “because I want to do this every day, doll, if you’ll let me.”

           I was temporarily snapped out of my haze, and I looked at him with my brow furrowed. “What are you saying?” I asked uncertainly, and Bucky’s smile was shy.

           “I like you, (Y/N),” he told me. “A lot. I have for awhile now, but I never knew how to tell you…”

           “So this wasn’t just brought on by the drinking games and the liquor and me asking you to stay last night?”

           Bucky chuckled as he shook his head. “Not at all, doll,” he assured me, and then he began to pepper kisses along my jaw. “I want you every day, if you’ll have me.”    

           His actions were confident but his eyes were nervous, and I reached up to cup his cheek in my hand. His skin was warm and the stubble on his face was rough, but he leaned into my touch as his eyes drifted shut and I knew in that moment that this beautiful man – this man that I had been pining over for months – really did feel for me the way I felt for him.

           “Show me just how much you want me, Sergeant,” I said in a husky voice as I looked up at him. “I’m yours.”

           Bucky made a quiet noise in the back of his throat, and then he crushed his lips to mine with feverish passion. My hands slid up under the hem of his t-shirt to slide along the muscles of his back, my fingernails grazing his skin lightly and drawing a growl from his throat. Disconnecting our kiss, he sat back on his knees and yanked the t-shirt over his head before tossing it carelessly to the floor. I sat up, tracing my fingertips over the planes of his abdomen, and when I looked up his eyes were blue fire, causing my stomach to flip in anticipation. Tugging lightly at my shirt, he stared at me as if waiting for my permission. I nodded and then the shirt was on the floor with his.

           Bucky’s lips latched onto one of my nipples and I let out a quiet moan, arching my back towards him. As his mouth alternated between my breasts his flesh hand toyed with the waistband of my leggings before slipping past it and underneath my panties. When his fingertips slid through my folds my moan was louder, and he pulled away from my breasts to smirk at me.

           “So wet, doll,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “This all for me?”

           “Mmm…” I managed to hum, and then Bucky was retracting his hand and I let out a soft whine at the loss of contact. He brought his fingers to his mouth to lick away my juices and a fresh wave of heat flooded to my core.

           “So fucking sweet,” he breathed. “I’m gonna have to get a better taste.”

           The next thing I knew, I was on my back and he had yanked the rest of my clothes off in one swift move, leaving me entirely naked under his hungry eyes. At this point I was practically aching to be touched and it must have showed on my face because Bucky flashed me a sinful grin before spreading my legs with his hands and diving in to swipe his tongue along the length of my folds.

           My hips bucked upward at the sudden contact and I let out a gasp. Bucky’s hands reached up to hold my hips in place as his mouth worked over me, drawing whimpers and moans from me. It didn’t take long for him to bring me to release, a panting and sweating mess tangled in the sheets.

           Bucky pressed a few light kisses to the inside of my thigh before he was sliding up my body and claiming my lips in a kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue, and it sent a fresh wave of arousal to my core.

           “Need you now,” I managed to huff out, grinding myself against his still-clothed erection, and Bucky grinned before quickly shedding the rest of his clothing. He slid his solid member through my folds slowly and I groaned, glaring up at him.

           “Stop teasing,” I hissed. “There’s plenty of time for that later, but if you don’t fuck me right now I honest to god might explode.”

           As I spoke my legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer to me. His eyes were dark as pitch and he growled before lining up with my entrance and sliding in with one thrust. I hadn’t been prepared for his size and my eyes fluttered shut as I let out a breathless, “James…”

           He stilled inside of me, and when I opened my eyes, he was regarding me with a mixture of shock, desire and tenderness. “Say it again,” he murmured huskily.

           “James,” I whispered, and then he was crushing his lips to mine and rolling his hips into me. My nails dug into his back, wanting to pull him as close to me as possible, and he pressed his face against my neck to suck lightly at my throat. It didn’t take long before I could feel my second orgasm that morning coming on, and I knew Bucky was also nearing release because his thrusts were getting sloppier. I dug my heels into his back as my hands grasped at his arms, opening my eyes to find that he was already looking at me.

           “James…” I breathed. “I wanna feel you come inside me, James, please.”

           “Fuck, doll,” he groaned, and then with a couple more thrusts he was spilling inside me with a grunt. His orgasm brought on my own and I cried out, my head pushing back into the pillows as my back arched up into Bucky’s body. As we came down from our highs he cradled me in his arms as he rolled us over to our sides, his now-softened member slipping out of my tender heat. I let out a soft moan at the loss of his length, feeling a mixture of our juices dripping down my thigh. Bucky reached up to tuck a damp lock of hair behind my ear.

           “Was that okay?” he murmured, and I let out a breathless laugh.

           “Are you kidding me, Buck? That was a hell of a lot better than just okay. My only regret is that we haven’t been doing this all along.”

           Bucky chuckled, but he looked relieved. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt sooner.”

           I rolled on top of him, pressing my lips to his. “Guess that just means we’ll have to make up for all that lost time,” I teased, wiggling my hips against his and grinning delightedly in finding out he was already half-hard again. Bucky smirked as he lifted his hands to grasp my hips, but just before he could lift me up to pull me down onto him, a shout echoed through the compound, followed by laughter and then the sound of glass breaking. Bucky and I stilled.

           “I will kill you!” we heard Clint roar, and I giggled.

           “Guess Clint found the dog food. Should we go make sure Sam doesn’t get himself killed?”

           Bucky shook his head. “Nah, Wilson’s a grown man, he can take care of himself,” he murmured, sitting up to place kisses along my jaw. “Now, where were we?”

           I caught his lips with mine and was just about to line him up with my entrance when this time F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupted us.

           “Sergeant Barnes, Ms. (Y/L/N), Mr. Stank requests that everyone meet him in the board room immediately.”

           Both Bucky and I burst out laughing, and when we finally calmed down enough to catch our breaths I said, “I suppose we should get dressed and get down there before Tony sends someone looking for us.”

           “Yes, because I have nothing better to do right this moment than deal with an angry Barton and an angry Stark.”

           I grinned and kissed him quickly before rolling off of him and pulling on a sweatshirt. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later,” I told him. “After all, we’ve got all the time in the world now.”

[thylalock]

Title: The Shoe Game By: thylalock Characters: Tom Blake, William Schofield, Sepoy Jondalar, Sergeant Sanders Pairing: William Schofield/Tom Blake Summary: “Who’s more likely to say something embarrassing—” Tom raised his cherry bouquet, prompting the crowd to burst out laughing. “I was going to say ‘in their sleep,’ but I think we’re quite convinced now.” Tom and Will had a shoe game on their wedding day. Additional Tags: modern AU, blakefield, jondalar is our host, the convoy boys are present and occasionally making hilarious remarks, instead of shoes blake uses a cherry bouquet and scho uses a handkerchief, sergeant sanders is blake’s landlord and is our narrator A/N: as told by Tom’s landlord, Daniel Sanders.

—

“Ladies and gentlemen, and now onto the most anticipated part of today’s event where we can glimpse into the couple’s lives: The Shoe Game!”

The crowd cheered, prompting Daniel Sanders, Tom Blake’s landlord, to chuckle to himself. Sitting at the edge of the crowd and nursing his drink, Sanders allowed a small smile to play on his lips. Thomas Blake and William Schofield sure did take ages just to admit to themselves they were in love with each other, frustrating the poor old landlord who had been trying to knock some sense into the the boys’ head, but looking at the couple’s happy faces, blindingly bright with joy, he could almost say it was worth it. 

It was a small wedding, not too crowded, with only the couple’s most dearest people invited. Though Sanders only knew a handful of the guests there—Tom’s mother and brother, Will’s mother and sisters, Will’s landlady, and a bunch of Tom’s friends from uni and work who would come to pick him up for drinks on Saturday nights—it was unmistakable that the couples were loved by those closest to them.

The venue was quite simple, not overly decorative or extravagant, but it was visible that Tom and Will’s personality bled into every inch of the place. The walls were decorated in white linen sprinkled with warm fairy lights here and there, giving the whole place a sense of warmth and welcome and the feeling of being home—Will’s idea, no doubt there—but at the edges, adorning lamp holders, snaking around pillars, and blooming in the middle of every table, were plants and vines and bouquets of cherry blossoms—Tom’s side. The whole event, including the way that Tom was dressed in a light grey suit and Will in sharp black, was a beautiful display of the contrasting natures of the two. 

Two chairs had been placed in the middle of the front space, facing away from each other, and on each of them was a bouquet of cherry blossoms and a plain white handkerchief. Sanders didn’t even need any explanation to tell which one was whose. 

It was quite funny to see the two of them sitting with their backs on each other, with Tom grinning widely at the crowd and Will looking quite calm himself, as though acting like each other’s antithesis.  

“Okay, I should think this one needs no explanation for you two, but I’ll explain it nonetheless,” the host, a tall handsome man with an Indian look, who Sanders had gathered to be one of Tom’s friends too, said. “I’ll read out a few questions and if you think the answer is Tom, you can raise the cherry bouquet, if it’s Will you can raise the handkerchief.”

Sanders and a few of the guests let out a soft laugh as the host turned to the crowd to say, “yeah, he’s modest that way.”

“Alright, let’s give it a go shall we? Who does the dishes more often?”

Tom and Will brought up their handkerchiefs in an almost mirroring movement it was almost comical, as though without any doubt. 

The host smiled, laughing in a low voice over the mic. “That was a test—we all know Will does all the dishes, but good to know you’re getting the hang of the game!”

At this Sanders let out a hearty laugh along with the rest of the guests. True—even in his own flat he had caught the younger man letting Will do the dishes when Sanders passed by his door, and on more than one occasion no less. 

Tom was visibly turning quite red on his rosy cheeks, a trait which Sanders had always found adorable because it gave away the younger man’s emotional state the way a ten years old boy couldn’t hide his feelings, but he was laughing nonetheless, accepting defeat. Will, on the other hand, smiled and began chuckling, a sign that the host had successfully broken the ice. 

“Question number two: who has the bigger wardrobe?” 

This time, as sure as the first question, the couple raised their cherry bouquets in unison—Will with a comical expression of defeat on his face and Tom with a rather smug smile on his lips, taking pride in his sense of fashion. No surprise there—the idea of having the grooms dressed in contrasting suits were probably entirely Tom’s idea.

“Who is more likely to cry during a sad movie?”

One of Will’s little sisters said, “Will?” but then covered her exploding giggling when the couple brought up their cherry bouquets.

The host joined the guests in laughter, turning to face her to acknowledge her earlier comment. “So much for thinking Will is the sentimental one, right?”

Sitting beside her, Sanders could see a man, who Sanders recognized as Tom’s brother Joe, shooting back a reminder, “give him dog movies!”

A low buzz of chuckling spread around the small crowd—apparently everyone was familiar with Tom’s love for dogs. Sanders himself had to deny the young man his request to get a dog in the flat at least a dozen times, reminding him that he worked almost all day long and wouldn’t be there to actually take care of it. 

On the front, Tom feigned defeat. “No! Not dog movies!”

The host gave a good-natured laugh, before carrying on, “who's more likely to say something embarrassing—”

Tom raised his cherry bouquet, a confident expression written on his face as though accepting that particular side of his nature, prompting Sanders and the rest of the crowd to burst out laughing. Even the host had to double over to hold himself from laughing too loud into the mic. 

He gathered that the host hadn’t finished his question, but that was fair enough. Even as a landlord, Sanders had witnessed how Tom’s carefree and honest and uninhibited personality had contributed to some embarrassing remarks said by the young man. 

The host walked up to pat Tom on the shoulder. “I was going to say ‘in their sleep,’ but I think we’re quite convinced now.”

At the finished question, Will brought up his handkerchief, saving Tom and bringing the crowd to another round of laughter. 

“I’m sure we’re all tempted to ask what, but that’s got to be for another time,” the host said. “Next question: who takes longer in the shower?”

There was a unanimous shout of “Tom!” coming from Tom’s friends, all clustered together on one corner of the crowd, and at Will’s approving wave of his cherry bouquet, Tom brought up his own bouquet in confirmation. True—sometimes even Sanders had been left with the job to entertain the boys who had come to pick Tom up because the man took forever in the shower. 

“No surprise there,” the host said, smiling as he peeked into his question list. “Who is the better kisser?”

When Tom and Will visibly took their time thinking and smiling to themselves, the crowd began cheering and the boys actually wolf-whistled. Sanders could barely hold himself from covering his face in his palms at the way the grooms slowly brought up the other’s attribute slowly, as though they were bashful twenty years old lads again, completely in love and aching for each other, driving the poor landlord insane, and not a couple getting married today. 

The guests went mad. 

One of the boys actually cried out, “oh my god, get a room!”

He was answered with a playful remark from another boy in the group, “shut up, Cooke!”

“It’s okay Cooke, they’ll get a lot of that in the following days,” the host interrupted, taking it as his cue, although he was still laughing. “Moving on: who is a bigger baby when they're sick?”

Again, there was a unanimous vote of “Tom!” from the boys, rivaled only by Will quickly shooting up his bouquet. 

No surprise there either for Sanders, considering how many times Will had knocked on Tom’s door, bringing hot foods and basically taking care of him like a husband even before they were together. 

In front of the hall, Tom smiled bashfully as he brought up his bouquet in admittance. 

“Who will kill the spiders in the house?”

Tom quickly shot up his handkerchief, waving it as though they were in the bathroom and it was a cry for help to kill the spider under the sink. On the other side, Will didn’t bring anything up for quite a time, laughing to himself. 

The host turned to Will. “No one? Will, you’ve got to turn around, he’s basically crying out SOS.”

Will turned around and Tom waved his handkerchief at him, raising his eyebrows and prompting the older groom to laugh. 

“I guess that would be me,” Will admitted, bringing up his own handkerchief. 

“Well, someone’s always got to kill the spiders, even if they don’t like it,” the host concluded. “Who is the better driver?”

This prompted the guests to giggle because Tom and Will brought up their own attribute for this. 

They each turned around, an expression of surprise etched to their faces as they found out they both took the credit. 

“You can’t even find the nearest chemist!” Tom  gave a jesting argument. 

Will replied something in return, but it died amidst the laughing guests. 

“Will said Tom can’t parallel park, which is true,” the host chimed in, earning a playful smack from the younger man. Sanders had to agree with the host though, it always baffled the landlord how Tom could get his driving license when he always parallel parked his car in such a mortifying angle in front of the flat. 

“Next question: who is the better cook?”

Unequivocal vote of “Will!” from the boys, to which Sanders agreed. Tom shot up his handkerchief while Will took his time raising his own handkerchief, as though not quite certain of his cooking skills. Sanders smiled to himself—the man was being too modest, everyone was a chef compared to Tom. 

“Who is in control of the remote?”

Both brought up their bouquet, which did not surprise Sanders. 

“Who will be most likely to wake up grumpy?”

There was a divided vote for each groom from the guests, but ultimately both Tom and Will brought up their handkerchief. 

“When you first met, who made the first move?”

Tom shot up his bouquet quickly, looking quite smug, while Will only laughed before he brought up his bouquet in agreement. 

“Who said I love you first?”

With more confidence, the couple raised their handkerchief in unison as the crowd cooed in soft “aww.”

“Who proposed?”

This drew a round of cheering and clapping from the guests, as Tom and Will both raised their handkerchief and bouquet. Sanders himself had his jaw dropped. He remembered that particular day because Tom was both too excited and nervous and bubbly that morning, and far too jittery than what he could face later that night, but he didn’t know this was what happened. It was almost comical to see that they didn’t even need to turn around to know that the other was raising both of their attributes. 

The host was visibly surprised, barely containing his own laughter. “What? How did it happen?”

“I was planning to propose,” Will said. “but it didn’t quite turn out the way it was supposed to, but apparently Tom’s also planned to propose on the same day. It was crazy.”

“We both had our rings that day,” Tom chimed in. “We end up wearing each other’s.”

“Oh, what wouldn’t we give for something like this, eh?” the host commented, earning a round of laughter and  ‘aww’, especially from the ladies guests. 

“Now, moving on to the last but most important question,” the host made a dramatic pause as he looked up from his question cards. “Now that you’re married, who’s more likely to say: it’s high time you start taking out the bins?”

Tom and Will brought up their handkerchief, and a nice round of applause closed the game in a nice wrapping. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, please join me in inviting the grooms to dance their first dance as married husbands!”

Fin

—

A/N: Prone to say embarrassing things, taking forever in showers, being a baby when they are sick, can’t cook to save their life? Basically, Blake is me. I’m sorry for embarrassing him a lot, in a way it’s me confessing my sins AHAHAHAHH

HFJDKHFJKDHFKD I do hope things didn’t come out too cringey because this honestly the first time I’ve written anything other than angst, and a humour no less, so really if you can’t finish it I really won’t blame you ahahahahh

However, constructive criticism is always welcomed! This is honestly my first attempt at humour, so if it’s not working I really won’t be offended if you say so. Thank you nonetheless for reading! What am I doing running away from Celestial, lol!

[kitaychan]

White Flame

Chapter 4

Rating: M

Warnings: Blood, Psychological Horror

General Summary:  Royal/ Magical AU. As their two Kingdoms get closer to a war, the past keeps on hovering around their choices. Prince Ivan has a hard time controlling his magical powers while being tormented by a mysterious ghost and Prince Alfred embarcs in seeking a revenge that might cost more than it’s worth it.

Preview:  Arthur tried to delay the crowning ceremony, he didn’t want to go through it, it was a horrid setting, the black dresses and the long and exhausted faces of the attendants made it worse. When he walked through the crowd of people, his heartbeat quickened, the silence that engulfed the scene was broken horribly by his footsteps and instead of feeling like the soon to be king in his crowning ceremony, he felt like walking the corridor to his execution.

A crown and a clock.

Arthur was accustomed to his life in the palace.

Tutoring the twins and keeping them company while the king was away was quite easy. He had been bitter at the beginning, deeming the task as a babysitting activity but the peacefulness when Alfred behaved and Madeline played the piano was something he didn’t have back home with all his brothers’ fuss and fights.

In the gardens, he heard the hem of Madeline's dress rustling against the bench while Alfred ran around them claiming to be a knight, the current obsession the young prince had. Arthur smiled at the sight of the fourteen year old liveliness, he hoped that this time Alfred would stick to it instead of abandoning his classes as he had done before, the boy didn’t seem to have a long- lasting vocation. Arthur was disappointed, Alfred showed more interest in the fencing practices than the magic lessons he offered him, after all the magic ran in the family but it was futile to teach the prince if he refused.  Madelaine on the other hand, was so diligent that Arthur was delighted, she’d be able to chant complex spells in no time, her attentiveness and carefulness were compatible with her curiosity and kindness.  

The warm and cozy scene was broken by the galloping of several horses and Alfred’s shouts, the boy ran excitedly to the palace as he heard the clicking of metal and hard footsteps. All that noise could only be due the King’s return.

He followed Madelaine to the entrance, a bitter taste crawling in his mouth when he observed the knights surrounding the entrance, one of them stopping Alfred in his tracks, telling him to stay away. Arthur stepped up to them, a single glance outside confirmed his fears, the horses had returned but there were few men left, the king was nowhere to be seen.

The twins were taken away by a maid, while Arthur was surrounded by courtsmen and the few soldiers that returned. An emergency meeting was held, taking the rest of the day as well as some part of the night, the King’s death was confirmed and the details for the following transition into the next monarch and the current defeat were arranged. Arthur had to sign a poorly done treaty, giving out territories to the enemy in order to assure peace. The only detail missing was that Arthur had to be crowned for the truce to be legitimate.  

The ceremony was going to be quick and solemn, after all, they had to save their respectful duel for the deceased king. Arthur stood still while some servants dressed him, not daring to glance at at them. He’d never admit it, but he was secretly scared and ashamed of his recent promotion if one could call it like that. He tried to not to worry too much about the situation but being told out of the blue that he was to take on the King’s duties until the prince was old enough to do so, were the kind of news that one had to take a week to overcome. All he was given were thirty minutes of breakfast and the resounding cries of two children when they got the news of their father’s death.  

Arthur tried to delay the crowning ceremony, he didn’t want to go through it, it was a horrid setting, the black dresses and the long and exhausted faces of the attendants made it worse. When he walked through the crowd of people, his heartbeat quickened, the silence that engulfed the scene was broken horribly by his footsteps and instead of feeling like the soon to be king in his crowning ceremony, he felt like walking the corridor to his execution.

The smell of incense made him dizzy and the feathery cape they put on him made him sweat. When the crown was placed in his head, he felt chills running down his spine. It was heavy and cold, he wondered if the late king had passed through something similar or if it was just him over analyzing the scene. Arthur tried not not think about it as it reminded him of the fate of the later king. They said it was a coincidence but it took a bit of curiosity and some questions to the soldiers to figure that it wasn’t only an unfortunate conflagration. Fire and ice at the same time were strangely rare and the dimensions of both were suspicious. Arthur was sure magic had to be involved, the question was what kind of it.

The only certain thought that Arthur had at the moment was that everything would change from now on. The predicament that tormented him was if it would change for the better or not.

---

Arriving to his homeland seemed like a fairytale to Ivan, seeing the outlines of the palace from the city entrance was surreal after such a long trip, the sight filled him with ecstasy.

They were received by a cheering crowd, they had returned victorious from a foreign land and for a moment, Ivan let himself be rejoiced by the sudden glory of it; staying back in the city instead of going straight into the palace alongside his father.

The evening went smoothly, the tired soldiers reunited with their families, the citizens offered a feast, unknowingly sharing it with their prince and for what seemed like a short span of time, Ivan felt himself at ease, not caring about his royal duties, his lessons or his father. What would he do? stand up from his illness and drag him back into the palace?

The soldiers seemed to forget about his title, treating him as they would treat any other comrade, offering him the same warmth as they did to their fellow friends. Ivan found himself integrated within the group, they sat alongside, devoured the meals and shared the wine until one of them started to sing.

It was only at that moment that Ivan understood he wasn’t supposed to be there, everybody joined the song while he just stayed there, drinking the awful beverage they called wine. The situation bothered him for a while but a couple of women served him another of those fermented liquors that made the whine seem like the greatest delicacy of the world. He pondered on throwing it away but the warm feeling it gave him made him change his mind.

The night came before Ivan could realize, the people arranged a campfire and some musicians started a simple tune, some gathered around the fire and started a festive dance. He was dragged into the crowd, not bothering much to follow them as the dizziness made him clumsy, not that it mattered as most of the soldiers were worse than him.

The dance was abruptly broken with the arrival of a carriage, Ivan trying to return to his sitting spot without tripping didn’t seem to register the scene until he was forcefully dragged into the carriage. Panic overtook him as he tried to ask for the help of the silent observers, reminding them that he was their prince.

He kept struggling until he met the face of her sister, growing embarrassed of his foolishness.

She crossed her arms glaring at him.  “I can’t believe what you did.”

He looked down, the situation was stupid, he couldn't help but laugh at the display of strictness from his sister. “Katya, what are you doing here? why did they drag me into the carriage?”

“You are drunk!” she exclaimed, furrowing her eyebrows and frowning.

“I am not… that drunk.”

She shook her head. “I won’t talk to you like this. You will go to sleep and we´ll talk tomorrow at first hour.”

“Fine.” Ivan wasn't stupid enough to talk back to Katya when she was displeased, but seeing her frown and give him such disapproving glance made him realize how similar she was to their father.

The silence was bothering him but he was too mortified to keep on talking with her, leaning against the carriage’s window and feeling his eyelids heavier with each second, he let himself drift out to sleep accompanied by the galloping of the horses.

The next day, Ivan woke up with a horrible headache and an overwhelming sense of dread. He had to force himself to be present at breakfast.

At the table, Katya sat with her brows furrowed. “What were you thinking?”

Ivan sighed, taking a seat. “Good morning sister, I am happy to see you too.”

She set aside her fork and scolded. “What is wrong with you? Everyone knows it was you, you stated it quite loudly last night, everyone is talking about it. What do you think Natalya and her family are going to think?”

A plate was arranged for him to eat, alongside some water. Ivan took a sip and  dismissed with his hand. “They’ll think that I got drunk with the rest of the soldiers, which is not wrong. That wasn’t the worst thing I could have done last night, Katya. Anyway, is not like they are going to draw back from the compromise, they did not care when I explained that I was disgusted by it.”

Katya gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “What has happened to you? you spend some time with father and return like a completely different person.”

“How is our father doing?” Ivan glanced at her sister before picking at his food.

Her behavior softened considerably. She moved away her food and looked away from him. “Not well, he keeps saying that the conquest is not over, that we must not sign or accept any peace offering”

“Well, in that he is right. why should we negotiate if we won? I don’t think that’s how a war works.”

She shook her head and raised her voice, her eyes pleading. “Vanya, you have to listen to me, while you arrived, there was a crowning ceremony in the west. The new king has sent a request, to end the conflict. It’s a good deal, convince father of accepting it. It’s enough bloodshed for now.”

Ivan glanced up to see her sister looking intently at him. The idea of talking with their father wasn’t attractive but he’d do as she wanted. After all, going back to another battle wasn’t something he wished to do. He nodded at her.  “I'll try.”

---

Ivan entered the room in silence, trying not to upset the figure resting on the bed.

He sat carefully in the chair that he supposed Katya had moved, meeting those familiar cold eyes that always glared at him, before he could talk, the king started.  “I heard you spent some time with the soldiers.”

“Father, I'm here to talk about something else. My doings in the city are not of importance.”

His father scoffed. “Of course they are. I know what happened, Katya told me everything.”

Ivan frowned, how cruel could Katya be, sending him right into the beast’s fangs.

“Ivan you are old enough to understand that your actions have consequences. What will people think when they see the next king, not only with the peasants but drunk?”

“If this is about Natalya and her family, I assure you they won't care.” Ivan said crossing his arms.

“Of course they won't Ivan,” the king laughed. “My sister will see that you marry her daughter no matter what. I couldn't care less. What I am talking about is the people that matter, like the other princes we've just barely defeated or those from the western kingdom whose king you killed.”

Ivan straightened his posture, fidgeting with his fingers. “Father-”

“Do not interrupt me. You have to get this through, you have a reputation to maintain, you can't show weakness because the moment you do so, they'll attack you. You think you'll win the respect of the one's left in the firebird by sharing a feast? What we'll do from now on is to feed their fear. You saw what happened back there, that Ivan will be the key  to maintain the order or to lose it. If they fear us, they won't fight back.”

Ivan leaned forward, looking down. “About that... they already surrendered, father. We have to rearrange administration and gain back the resources we spent. Signing the peace is the most sensible choice.”

The king sat up, raising his voice. “No, we won't I have to finish this, it is necessary. You are not capable of doing such thing.”

Ivan pushed him down again, not hiding the annoyance of his tone. “Father, you have to rest.”

“No, I can't. I will rest when I die,” he said, prying off Ivan’s hands from him. “This has to finish before you take over the throne. I won't die peacefully knowing that it'll be you doing it. Your mother will kill me.”

Ivan sighed, lowering his voice. “Father… I am sure that mother would have agreed to the treat, she disliked conflict. She'd like me to have a peaceful reign.”

“You Idiot, how dare you use your mother's memory like that,” the king fumed. “that's exactly what I am trying. Why do I have to bear with your useless rambling. Don't waste my time. I… Ivan, what time is it?”

“It’s four past five.”

His father glanced around and questioned. “Where is it? What have you done with it? I won't pass that clock to you, give it back.”

Ivan rolled his eyes and stood up. “I don't know father. It's clear to me that you deem me unworthy of the family relic.”

“Where is it? What have you done?” the king cursed, his tone grew desperate, some servants entered and Ivan stepped back, frowning at his angered father and shrugging.

“Idiot! Where is it? What have you done? Why, why does this have to happen? Not again, this can't happen again. Ivan, what have you done? Where’s Katya?”

His father's shouts were appeased when Katya entered the room and retrieved the clock from the nightstand. The scene made Ivan glare, no matter what, his father would always blame him for everything, even stupid things like this.

Once outside, Katya was scolding him for torturing their father.

Ivan walked hurriedly through the corridor. "It isn't my fault that he has gone mad."

Katya followed his pace, lifting her dress to take longer strides. “You should have told him it was there.”

“How could I if he doesn't let me talk?” he argued.

“Did you manage to convince him?” She whispered.

Ivan stopped, shaking his head. “Katya, just sign the treaty yourself or I will. Father won't last long anyways.”

She gasped, fear crossing her face. “How can you say that?”

“Katya, at this point we are better off without him.” He admitted, looking down after the words left his mouth.

“Ivan!” She warned looking around the hall.

“He won't know unless you tell him,”Ivan murmured. “Sign with his name, you have his seal. If he somehow gets the news blame me for it. What will he do? Execute his successor? The rest of the kingdom approves your plan.”

Katya gasped but stayed silent probably pondering on the idea.

Ivan walked away, trying to evade the blue eyes judging him from above, perhaps he could convince Katya to finally burry that haunting gray wolf.

[ssa25]

Day 5: Red string of Fate (Sasuhina Month 2019) - Part 1

@sasuhinamonth

Join us for the wedding of Yuuhi Kurenai and Sarutobi Asuma on….

He was the groomsman she was partnered with to walk down the aisle as Kurenai's bridesmaid.

She had fervently hoped to be paired with the gorgeously tanned blonde by the name of Uzumaki Naruto, instead she got his best friend.

His name was Uchiha Sasuke. He was devastatingly handsome in his crisp well fitted suit and combed back hair. Tenten had overheard a group of girls gossiping about him. He was extremely popular among women, but his attitude left much to be desired. That was what she got from them.

He was polite to her when they were introduced. Then he was aloof while the bridesmaids and groomsmen were chatting in a group right before the walk.

So, Hinata was pleasantly surprised when Sasuke reached out to her at the reception. She was sitting alone at a round table with a quiet old couple, having refused several invitations from her friends and some single men to dance, because her heels were killing her. Also, Tenten had warned her that all the single men at weddings hoped to get into the panties of bridesmaids. And the last thing she wanted was to become someone's easy lay.

But Sasuke seemed gentlemanly. He offered her a flute of champagne, seeing the one she was holding was already empty. He told her that he was working in partnership with his brother running their family's security services firm in Tokyo. She told him about how it was her first year as a full fledged nurse at a hospital in Kyoto. After talking about their families, he suggested an exit to the lush gardens. She agreed easily, and he offered to pick up her heels while she walked barefoot out to the patio.

The found a bench just in time to see the sun set over the backdrop of the rural village Kurenai had picked as the wedding destination. He wasn't much of a talker, his questions were direct and his answers on point. But he heard every word she had to say, his gaze lingered on her when she spoke, his smirk made her blush and when his hands fell over hers on the wooden bench, she didn't pull away.

She looked at their clasped hands and then at him with her uniquely big gray eyes. His eyes seemed to drink all of her in, as he said, "I don't think I've mentioned this… But I think you are absolutely breathtaking."

Her heart hammered against her chest, when he slowly leaned forward with obvious intention, but also giving her plenty of time and opportunity to back away if she wanted to. But she didn't. She wanted this too.

Their kiss was soft at first, gently nipping and stroking. But gradually, the movements evolved to something much more sensual. He was the first one to hold her by her nape for leverage, and then it was her grabbing on to the lapels of his jacket.

When they parted for air, he asked her if she wanted to come up to his room at the hotel. She could only nod, since she felt tongue tied after that heated kiss.

Quickly dodging all the guests, they made their way to the elevator. Luckily, they found an empty one, and quickly got on. He couldn't keep his hands off of her all the way to the outside of his room, her curves moulded to the satin of her champagne coloured wrap dress feeling heavenly under his hands. He quickly swiped his card and opened the door to find the lights of his room on. He let her in and closed the door behind them.

But Hinata stilled to see the view the woman in front of her. Dressed in the skimpiest of lingerie, a tall skinny pink haired woman was standing in the middle of the room, mirroring the expression of horror that was on Hinata's face.

"What the fuck are you doing here Sakura??!!", Sasuke's voice behind her, was low but filled with rage.

It made the woman named Sakura snap into action as she swiftly picked up a matching robe and put it on.

"I… I thought of surprising you.. It's your birthday tomorrow… So I asked Naruto for help… But….Who is she?", there was obvious displeasure in her voice as she questioned Hinata's presence.

"Whoever she is, is none of your business. Nor is my personal life. We broke up more than four months back. And for the last time, I would like things to remain that way between us.", he gritted his teeth as he tried to stop himself from lashing out. "So get the fuck out of this room."

Hinata who stood frozen, digested everything that was said. Her mind replaying Tenten's advice earlier that day. She had acted foolishly, letting momentary pleasure blind her rational thinking. She got chills when she realised that she was about to jump into a stranger's bed. A stranger who had sweet talked her. A stranger who had an absolutely stunning woman as an ex-girlfriend, and was on the verge of kicking said woman out.

"No.", she spoke up for the first time since facing Sakura. "I'll leave."

She could not even look at Sasuke's face, as he muttered her name in shock. "Hinata… Wait…. Look… This is all a misunderstanding…. Sakura and I broke up a long time back…"

"Is four months a long time for you?", she whispered incredulously. "I'm sorry, but I can't stay anymore."

"Why? She should leave. Not you. Just stay. Please. We were having a good time."

"Well, that's because I was not thinking straight… But now that I am finally, I'd rather sleep out in the cold than get into your bed."

Sasuke seemed frustrated as he brushed his hair back with his fingers, before trying again. "Fuck..Okay… We don't have to sleep together… Let's just talk… Okay?"

But she had made up her mind. "I'm sorry Mr. Uchiha, but I have to go."

-

Sasuke decided to give her the night to cool off after throwing Sakura out of the room and giving Naruto an earful. Early next morning, he called the receptionist, not wanting to disturb the newlyweds, for Hinata's room number or contact details. But he was informed that Hyuuga Hinata had checked out almost more than an hour back.

---

Thirteen months later

You are cordially invited to the marriage of Sabaku Temari and Nara Shikamaru on Saturday, the….

It was weird being the girlfriend of the bride's younger brother. You weren't exactly part of the family, but you were still more important than some of the attendees. You had to help around with some of the preparations, but you did not really have a say in anything. You were just there.

Not that Hinata wanted any of that. She was happy to help as much as she could, but she did not want to step on any toes. She had dressed up fairly quickly in a knee length off shoulder red dress. Her hair was also in an updo leaving her fringe to frame her face.

She stood beside her boyfriend of five months Sabaku Gaara, and his brother Kankuro, also with Shikamaru's parents to welcome the guests. She did not have to do much except smile, only a handful of people she was actually friends with, had been invited. So when she heard a loud voice calling Gaara, she snapped her head up to see a group of young adults walk in - Naruto, she would never forget him and his sunny disposition. Behind him was an attractive platinum blonde she had met before at Kurenai's wedding. Thinking about that fateful day, a chill ran up her spine. And right on cue, he walked in. Sasuke. He was dressed in all black, and it reminded her of why she had been fooled by him.

His eyes found hers and he was taken by surprise. She glanced away at Naruto who was shaking hands and talking to Gaara. Seconds later, Gaara greeted Sasuke too and then introduced Hinata, unaware of their short shared history.

"This is Hyuuga Hinata, my girlfriend."

She gave a shaky smile and outstretched her hand to a shocked Naruto who seemed to recognize her a second later, shaking her hand while looking back at Sasuke.

When Naruto moved away, it was Sasuke who offered her his hand, which she took hesitantly. Immediately he grabbed it with a vice like grip, and all she could remember was the familiar grip when they were all over each other in the elevator two years back.

"Good to see you Hinata."

"T-Thank you. Please enjoy the wedding festivities.", she said flatly.

"I will."

All through the vows and the reception, she could feel his stare on her. She had no clue what he wanted. It had been two years. Surely someone like him had moved on, so why was he making her uncomfortable.

Few minutes later, she excused herself from Gaara' side to visit the washroom. On her way out of the washroom, she saw Sasuke waiting. She maintained her cool and tried walking past him, but he got in front of her making her pause.

"Won't you even acknowledge my presence?"

"I'm just rushing back to my table.."

"To your boyfriend, you mean."

"Is there something you needed Mr. Uchiha?", Hinata looked at him sharply.

"Yes, I want to know why you ran away that time… You never gave me a chance to explain, your forbid your friends and Kurenai from sharing your contact details.", he bit back.

"I don't like my personal information shared with strangers I have no business with."

"I recall us being too close to be called strangers."

She looked mortified as her mind recanted the moments that she had buried in the deepest pit of her memory.

"All I know is that it's been more than an year since then.. We have to move on…. Aren't all wedding hook ups like that?…. You sleep with someone and then you forget about it."

"I didn't see it as a hookup…. And also we didn't get to actually sleep with each other.", he reminded her.

"Ah… So that's what this is about. I'm sorry to say, but you have to look for a different conquest… As you are well aware, I already have someone.",she replied acidly.

She saw his jaws clench in silence. "You like him?"

"Obviously I do."

"You love him?"

"T-That's not something y-you get to ask."

"Why not?"

"Hinata?", Gaara's voice echoed through the hallway.

Hinata looked over Sasuke's shoulder to see him, as he stared at her and Sasuke, like two pieces of puzzle, wondering about their relation to each other.

"Is something the matter?", he asked her.

"No. No. I'll be right there. Sasuke and I were just talking about something."

"I wasn't aware you knew each other."

"Just barely.",she shrugged.

Gaara blinked his eyes before nodding his head in acceptance to whatever she was spouting. "Bouquet's about to be thrown."

With that, he turned around and left. Not waiting for a moment longer, Hinata followed his path

But Sasuke wasn't done yet.

"It's been two years… But I just can't stop thinking about you…", he declared to her back. It made her stop abruptly. So he continued with what he wanted to say.

"I haven't felt this way about another woman before. I like you,.. A lot.. And although we were going to sleep with each other that night, my intention was not for a hookup like you seem to think… What you saw that evening, in my room, was something that I had no control over… Still, I was ready to apologize, because of the way I felt about you… But you got away before I could do that… "

His confession sounded genuine and heartfelt. But she couldn't just go back in time to change their circumstances.

"I guess that's our fate Mr. Uchiha… Maybe we were never meant to get involved in a relationship."

She turned back to him with a polite smile. "Have a good rest of the evening, Mr. Uchiha."

---

[gramon-my-otp]

To The End, With You - chapter twelve

Previous Chapter |  Next Chapter

Chapter Synopsis: Russell and Gareth participate in the entrance ritual of the secret gay brotherhood of Britpoplar. The Gallagher brothers prank Damon and Graham in an awful way - which escalated to a surprising revelation between the two friends!

Alternative Universe fanfiction placed in the 1600s. 

Words: 2040

Disclaimers:  I understand that Blur, Pulp, Oasis, Suede, Elastica and other bands members belong to their own and have their own personality and personal lives. I am aware this is nothing but a work of fiction and the way the characters are represented are fruit of my imagination and do not correspond to their real thoughts and way of life. Fanfiction should not be taken seriously.

(After more than three years, I came back to finish what I have started. Thanks for the giving me motivation @skygramon​ I can’t do this without you)

Two cloaked individuals sprinted around the borough of Britpoplar at night. They were aware that there were eyes in places they would never imagine. The location chosen for a secret meeting was unfamiliar to them, but the path that led to it was infamous for the grieving memory it sparkled. It was where Simon Gilbert last walked alive - and they were there, the two cloaked men, holding hands. They stopped by the butcher shop, as it was instructed to them. A straight gated iron door opened before them, almost invisible in the corner of the slaughter house. Only then the blokes noticed a flickering light in a window above. A hidden room above the shop. The negotiators had already been waiting. The men entered and the iron gate shut closed. Damon Albarn received the visitors with a knife in hand, pointing at them.

“Identify yourselves”

They removed their own covers completely, revealing to be Damon’s fellow Russell Senior and his young lover, Gareth Coombes. Damon put his blade back and greeted them accordingly. The setting was unsettlingly silent. The glow of candles reflected upon the stairs behind them.

“Up we go”, asked Damon, gesturing with his arms and hands. 

The blonde followed the couple climbing the stairs, heading to the bedroom. Another iron gate, and also a door. Anxiety built up in the two lovers hearts. They held their hands tighter, and carried on. On the edge of the bed sat Morrissey and Alex James. He wasn’t happy to be there, but as a member of the society he had to fulfil tasks when required of him. Russell wasn’t expecting to see neither of them there. He would never guess the so much respected librarian was homosexual, and he never cared for a poor lowlife profile such as Alex. He was speechless already. Gaz took a deep breath and gathered the courage to make his question:

“Are those the ones assigned to each one of us?”

“Yes”, answered Damon, behind them. “It was easy finding someone slim, tall, and young as you are for Russell. Believe me, it’s easier to get it done when the person resembles someone you like”.

“So, I have to lie down with fellow Alex, while he has to lie down with Morrissey”, Russell was repeating the obvious. He knew Damon wouldn’t volunteer because they were kind of close. Still, the thought of that passage rite was absurd, but necessary.

“Are you going to stay here and watch us?” - asked Alex, annoyed. “Aren’t we going to have a little privacy?”

“Mr. James… Somebody has to watch the surroundings. Damon had the idea that we leave as a group afterwards, pretending we’re drunk”, Morrissey explained. “I’m sorry this room doesn’t fit your needs, but it’s the only we could find in a hurry. Now, shut your mouth and do what you are supposed to!”

Gaz and Alex were tops, while Russell and Morrissey were bottoms. It was difficult for the couple having to have sex in those conditions, only to be accepted, protected by the community. Proof was necessary, and now they had it. The plan for them to leave in safety proceeded well. They were mistaken by drunkards lost in Britpoplar streets. 

~

The sound of boiling metal and hammers crashing against steel filled the emptiness of the air under the hot midday sun. The Gallagher brothers had been reforming armor pieces for the soldiers for the last few days. Not that they cared for the army. In fact, they didn’t, but gold was gold. The payment was good and they needed it. They constantly thought about what Jarvis Cocker and Brett Anderson said to them. Honestly, they thought they were crazy and being paid for following people was something way over the line. They rarely did the patrols they were supposed to, and never saw anything that called their attention. That day, though, was their lucky day. 

“Fuck, I’m bored!”, voiced Liam, dropping his working material. “Tired of doing this and bored!”.

“If you leave the hard work to me again, I will take your gold for meself”, warned Noel.

“You just try it!”, Liam raised his fist toward his brother.

When they were about to throw punches at each other, they noticed movement behind them. They see Damon walking past by with Graham, chatting joyfully. In the midst of the awkward silence between the Gallagher brothers, the two peasants ignored them. In fact, they didn’t even witness the foolish discussion. They were so focused and entertained with each other. 

“Let’s fool with them just like we did with that Justin Welch moron last week” - suggested Liam, with pure mischief in his eyes. 

“Do we really have to?” - Noel questioned, uninterested.

“Are you crazy?! Stop being a slackass and let’s go!”- Liam tried to encourage him.

“Alright, alright. They are full of shit anyway…” - Noel got moving then, and Liam went along.

Graham was actually having one of the most exciting afternoons of his life. Listening to Damon nonstop, telling stories of the town and sharing his adventurous experiences. He would either blabber about managing the gay community or how much he liked Justine. Graham couldn’t avoid thinking how big of a hypocrite and selfish Damon was at that matter. What the hell did he want in life? The answer was simple, Albarn wanted the whole world, he wanted everything. However, no man was able to play God, nor he was allowed to be larger than life just for the sake of good fun and self indulgence. Damon’s sins were numerous, as he was endangering both himself and all the people he cared about. Sooner or later, Graham would suffer from some kind of backfire. The blonde one had been spending the whole day with his friend, saying lots of things, but not what he really wanted to say. Coxon was fine whether Damon knew he was attracted to him or not. It was too dangerous to risk it all for an affair. He was more than happy with his friendship.

“Oi, mates! What a pleasure to see ya in this part o’ town!” - Liam came in grinning wide.

Graham froze from his arse up. He was aware of the Gallagher’s reputation. 

“What’s wrong, newcomer? Shat your trousers?!?” - Noel already got a grip of the brunette’s shoulder. 

If Damon decided to fight them he would surely lose. Graham was nothing but a scaredy cat - there was no way he was going to help out in combat. As Liam sunk his knee deep in Damon’s stomach, Noel punched Graham in the mouth. 

“Damon, no!” - uttered Graham.

“I’m okay, Graham. He’s too weak for me…” - Damon could barely talk, and still he mocked the one who bullied him.

The two victims were dragged by their enemies to Britpoplar’s cemetery. It had both fancy tombs for the rich families and some areas to drop poor abandoned chaps. Last time Damon was there he stole Simon Gilbert’s body away, to bury him at his homeplace. 

“Right! Let’s play a game!” - Liam held Damon by his hair, almost pulling it from his scalp. They kept climbing the hill on the cemetery until they found the tiniest stone mausoleum. It must have been built for a child, but the funeral never happened. The monument was there for a really long time, and the Gallaghers often took other young men there just to terrorize them, locking them up in the tomb for several hours. They were about to do it with Damon and Graham.

“Liam, I don’t know if they will both fit in! We never tried putting two at once!” - Noel was laughing at his younger brother’s psychotic necessities. He probably participated only for gags.

“Shaddap and help me” 

The only way Damon and Graham could coexist in that horrid conditions were positioned against each other, face to face, squeezed in the vault between the stone walls. 

“Let’s see how long it will take for them to figure how to get out” - the two friends in trouble overheard the sentence, as the voices from Noel and Liam disappeared with the distance. 

It was so tight in there that their rib cages didn’t have enough space to breath. Their legs were nearly intertwined with one another. Graham’s crotch was against Damon’s thigh, as well as the same for the other way round. The whole situation was disturbingly inconvenient, and yet it could get a lot worse.

“Graham, are you okay?” - Asked Damon after noticing his friend’s face twitch. - “Can you breathe?”

Coxon could only nod positively, while a drop of sweat ran down on his forehead. Damon struggled to move his hands and looked all around the stone enclosure.

“That’s what Justin Welch meant with being abused by the Gallaghers! What a bunch of useless cunts! If he got out, we can too!”

Not that Graham was relieved with the idea of being free from that nonsense, but while Damon was slowly searching for a lump, a button, or a handle of any sort in the walls, it was hard not move accidentally against his mate, rubbing himself against Coxon’s body.

“Damon, I am sorry, I am so sorry, I can’t!”

“What are you…? Oh, my… Graham, you…”

That was it. Graham Coxon got a boner, and his stiffness was screaming inside his trousers, trapped between Damon’s thigh and below his own navel. Damon first reaction was to be in shock. Never in his mind he could imagine this chap longing for him, even though Morrissey had suggested so a few days prior. Graham was truly mortified. He refused to open his eyes and wished he was dead only not to hear what Damon had to say. Instead of what was expected, Damon suddenly burst into laughter. Graham discreetly peeked at his giggling face. 

“That’s right! Laugh at me! I deserve to be humiliated!” - Coxon cried dramatically. 

“Shut your mouth, Gra.” - Damon silenced Graham himself, surprising him with a warm, magisterial, and hopeless kiss. He forced his tongue inside the man’s mouth, relishing on his sweet taste and extreme insecurity. 

Graham, at first, got so scared with Damon’s sudden move, that he fought it, refusing to believe that his life had come that - but as soon as Damon’s large tongue made way, his whole body simply swooned. He wanted more, and he didn’t want it to stop - but Damon had a million thoughts in his head. He started it, and he ceased it too.

“We shouldn’t, Graham, you’re my friend.”

“I… I think I am in love with you.” 

When they thought they were never gonna leave that wretched tomb, Damon unexpectedly hit his elbow on a piece of the wall and dislocated, making it possible for them to push the stones apart and escape the trap. They literally fell on top of each other when they made it out.

“You don’t want to get involved in this, Graham.” - Damon was referring to joining the gay brotherhood. “I can't let you risk your life over me.”

“But - I am not confused anymore! I know now, I want this, and I want you!” - Graham embraced Albarn, still on the ground.

The blonde one held Coxon’s chin, as if he was about to kiss him again, but then let go. He got up and assisted his confidant afterwards. 

“Try to imagine yourself with a maiden or something and get rid of this hard-on you’ve got, We’re going back to the university.”

Eventually, Graham’s erection faded away, but not because he imagined a naked woman - being rejected by Damon in that way had hurt him. He felt as if his feelings had been played with, like a dart game. Damon had hit bullseye, and his heart was now bleeding.  Neither him or Albarn could sleep that night. Coxon was just too sad, regretting that he opened his heart to his friend in a moment of fragility. Damon, on the other hand, kept awake because of his guilt. He didn’t want to mess with Graham’s feelings at all. He was still resenting Simon’s death, and believed he couldn’t keep his brothers at the secret community safe. He loved Graham too, still, he wasn’t ready to put his life on the line for the sake of their feelings. 

[bisexuhellvevo]

Poker Night at the Mellerelel’s

I’ve written up a few DnD sessions that I’ve played in here, and I have some to write still (fuck the False Hydra), but this one is my favourite so far. Partially because I ran it rather than playing in it, but also because it lead to the one scene that I’m most proud of as a DM and I’ll always remember. I’m gonna put this under a read more because it’s quite long.

The characters were:

Darryn Mellerelel, a Noble Half-Elven College of Swords Bard, who was born out on a illicit affair between the High Elven Lady Mellerelel and someone else, potentially another noble. He was kicked out at a very young age because it was eith er that or his mother lost her status and was thrown out with him. He’d come back to the city of Stoldhaven for the first time in nearly thirty years.

Joegan Greenfall, a Human Ancients Paladin of Mielikki, Goddess of Forests. His mother and father ran the Stoldhaven guard forces, and he was annoyed at being forced into this life away from his religion, so he stole his family’s ancestral greatsword and ran away. He was visiting for the first time in twenty years.

And Darvin, The Rat of Peatbog, an urchin Druid from the poor town of Peatbog. He grew up on the streets of Peatbog with a much more successful sister who’d left town before him, and after the orphanage he was stealing little bits and pieces for was suddenly granted a hell of a lot of money from a mysterious benefactor, he had no more ties to the town and left to make a name for himself as an adventurer. He had absolutely no business being sat alongside nobles in a poker game, especially since he had no idea how cards even worked.

First a little explanation of the setting. The heroes had arrived in Stoldhaven a couple of days earlier, only to find themselves completely stuck the morning afterwards as the city was trapped inside of a time loop, resetting at midnight every night and trapping everyone who stayed after that point. After some anger at the people around them for deciding to lie to incoming adventurers, they’d decided to see how they could help out.

They’d started investigating some murders and disappearances and, due to a combination of extremely good rolls and talking to exactly the right people at exactly the right time (and Detect Thoughts), had found out about the Timeless - worshipers of Savras, God of Divination and Fate - who were intent on keeping the time loop dome up, due to believing it was fate and anyone trying to work against it were working against their god. They found out that The Timeless One was a human noble by the name of Kara Dundragon.

Meanwhile, Darryn had made a deal with Lord Mayor Tressel, a Tiefling and current leader of the city, that he’d help as long as he got to see his mother again. He wouldn’t exactly reveal himself straight away, so he didn’t want her to be told who he was first, but he did want to speak to her. Tressel said he could get them all in to a poker game between a few of the noble families in his place (and they wouldn’t necessarily have to disguise themselves). At the poker game would be Lady Mellerelel, Lord Greenfall (the paladin stayed very quiet at that name) and Kara Dundragon.

The guards were privately hired, so they couldn’t necessarily be tipped off ahead of time - the adventurers decided they would rather keep things quiet and see what they could get out of her at the table instead of announcing she was a criminal and having her go underground. So, after some adventures around the city, they arrived that night for poker.

On his way there, the paladin was stopped by Kara on a little side street - with a whole bunch of civilian hostages to stop him trying anything. She explained that the group were meddling where they don’t understand what’s happening, and they should stay away. Joegan politely explained that he wasn’t going anywhere, and that he was going to stop her, and she merely answered that it was a shame and they were warned, before leaving.

Poker night started with Kara not present (the other two explained that she’s usually late), and was quite fun to begin with - Darvin had his cards backwards for most of the first few rounds, and they discussed the goings on in the town, the time loop business, and the two nobles repeatedly failed INT roles to recognise their own children (Lord Greenfall nearly got it, but Darryn and Darvin distracted him by juggling ice and dropping it in their drinks). The players gathered a little bit of money, too (mostly Darryn). Then Kara entered.

The mood immediately changed, and Kara spent the evening mostly taking jabs at the more prim, proper nobles, especially at Mellerelel’s infidelity. Also she kept winning despite not having proficiency in cards. The Paladin kept making vague threats towards her (leading to a great instance where, after making a comment about taking money from the group, he responded to her with “I’ll take something from you”, to which she replied “You can have my bra, if you’d like. If not, I’m sure the Lady can sort that out.”). The tension was heating up, and Darryn tipped her off that Joegan was about to try something, which lead to my absolute favourite scene I’ve ever DMed for ever.

Kara gets up and claims she has to use the bathroom, and Joegan stands up as she leaves and casts Command with the word “Truth”. She fails the save, but both Darryn and Joegan try to say something at the same time. Darryn is just a fraction quicker, and asks “What’s your favourite wine?” over the top of Joegan’s “Tell them you’re the Timeless One!”.

“I prefer a good red. There’s a great vintage made in the southwest kingdom that’s really lovely. Also, your mother fucked my father and that’s where you come from.”

The mood dropped. Darryn’s player sat there completely shocked, Lord Greenfall was looking between Kara and Lady Mellerelel as she looked at the floor, mortified. Kara then said “we should run, yes?” to Darryn, and they ran for the back door together. Joegan got up to follow, drawing a weapon, and the guards stopped him, but he convinced them to let him chase her as long as they were allowed to protect the noble. Darvyn turned into a horse to let Joegan get on and corner her at the open back door, and the players rolled initiative.

Darryn was up first, and cast Charm Person on both Kara and Joegan, both of whom failed, and he apologised for the Paladin attacking her, to which she forgave him (it wasn’t his fault, after all). Darvin was up next. Seeing that Darryn didn’t want Kara attacked or captured, he turned around and ran, letting Kara get away with two Action Surge Dash turns.

My main villain only got away because of the unprompted actions of my players, who were so invested in her as a person, the sudden reveal of a relationship between two of them and what she had to say about it that they let her. Not as a group, mind, but they managed to let her. That is the thing I’ll always be proud of as a DM, I think. Managing to create someone that they want to see a proper end to, rather than a cheesed “fight” against an unarmed opponent. The player playing Joegan wasn’t even mad because he’d have done the same thing if he wasn’t playing a super devoted Paladin.

Anyway yeah DnD’s good.

[honouraryweasley12]

Fizzy Drinks

I felt like writing something, but I wasn’t feeling inspired to work on any of my WIPs. I asked @aloemilk for a prompt and she gave me “theatre”. Here’s a bit of Sunday evening fluff!

~*~

It had been Hermione's dad's idea, which was unexpected.

It had taken The Grangers a few weeks, several heated arguments, and even more tears to accept what Hermione had done to protect them, but they'd finally made their peace with it and resolved to rebuild their family.

However, the one thing that still seemed to be a point of unease was the fact that Ron and Hermione were dating. Of course, given that Ron had made the trip to Australia, and how much of a support he'd been to Hermione, they had quickly put the pieces together, prompting the young couple to confirm that they were officially together.

Her mum was pleased with the development, but her dad had remained eerily quiet on the matter. Ron had felt, more than once, that the older man was sizing him up. Not that Ron blamed him—he hadn't really been able to clearly articulate to them how much he loved their daughter.

Little did he know that it was obvious to her parents, especially after Hermione had explained their goings on during the past year.

They'd cried during those heart-wrenching moments at Malfoy Manor, hugging Hermione tightly as she recalled the intense pain she'd endured and how Ron's screams fueled her hope and allowed her to keep fighting. Mrs. Granger had even hugged Ron after that, thanking him profusely for saving their only child.

All of this flew through his mind when her mother piped up during dinner one mid-June evening in Sydney, asking Hermione about their first date.

"Honestly, Mum, between everything at the end of the war, the… the funerals, and then coming here to find you, well… we haven't really gone on a date."

Her parents were surprised, seeing how that was usually the first step in establishing a proper romantic relationship.

Ron gulped, not wanting to seem like a disappointment. He badly wanted to take Hermione on a date, hundreds of them, really. It was something he'd been dreaming about for years, if he was honest with himself. Hermione was right, as usual. Between the weight of everything they'd done since Harry beat Voldemort, their moments together had been filled with grief and support. Yet he still worried; he wanted so badly to make a good impression.

An awkward silence descended on the group.

"The theatre," Mr. Granger suddenly blurted out. "You should go to the theatre. That's where I took your mum on one of our first dates. Hamlet, wasn't it, dear?"

Her mum nodded and smiled, a faraway look on her face.

Ron paled. He remembered Bill talking about the theatre once when he was taking Muggle Studies. A bunch of poncy gits dressing up, acting out a story, and speaking a bunch of nonsense. It sounded ridiculous. He was also aware that it could be rather pricey, and his funds were rather limited. Of course, he knew well enough not to say anything out loud.

Hermione spoke up, after noticing the subtle change on Ron's face. "Thanks for the suggestion, Dad. I think maybe the cinema would be a better option for Ron and I."

Blimey, he loved this woman.

Ron nodded excitedly. "I've heard a bit about the cinema from Hermione and some of the other Muggleborns at school. It sounds brilliant. But…"

"But what, Ron?"

"I… I wanted to do this properly." His ears flared red as he focused on his girlfriend. "Hermione, would you go out with me?"

Ron heard Mrs. Granger sigh, and Hermione beamed. "I'd love to."

Ron even chanced a glance over to Mr. Granger, who had an odd look on his face. Making eye contact, he gave Ron a genuine smile and a slight nod, approving of his actions.

After finishing up their dinner, Ron looked up at the clock. He had no idea what time the cinema closed.

"Well, I guess we'd better get going then."

"Ron!" Hermione screeched. "I have to get ready first! My hair is a mess, I need to change…"

Ron's confusion was evident. "Why? You look beautiful."

Hermione blushed. "Well, I'm glad you think so, but this is our first official date and I want to look… you know… special. Mum, will you help me pick something out?"

"Of course, dear."

Mrs. Granger's eyes were shining as the two women dashed up the stairs of the small house, talking non-stop and giggling, leaving the two men watching in awe.

Mr. Granger clapped Ron on the shoulder. "These women, eh?"

Ron nodded, suddenly dreading being left alone with Mr. Granger.

"Now, Ron, I'm sure I don't have to tell you this—seeing how we let you two share a room here—but if I hear a single word about you not treating my daughter with the utmost respect, I won't be very happy."

"Of course, sir. Besides, Hermione would probably hex my bollocks off if I did anything she didn't want to do." Ron's eyes widened, mortified at using such crass language.

Mr. Granger snorted. "I'm sure you're right, son."

A silent understanding seemed to take place between the two men, both of whom loved the bushy-haired witch upstairs. After an awkward moment, Hermione's dad spoke up again.

"So, you've never been to the cinema before?"

"No. From what I understand, it sounds like a bunch of people sitting in a dark room, watching a giant television."

"Well, I suppose that's an apt description of it. But it's more about the experience of enjoying something together. Not only that, but between the big screen, the sound, and the treats, it's quite fun."

Ron perked up. "Treats? What kinds of treats?"

Mr. Granger smiled, knowing of Ron's penchant for sweets—much to his professional disapproval. "Yes, there are a number of things we typically eat at the cinema, including popcorn, candy, and," he visibly cringed, "fizzy drinks."

"Fizzy drinks? Sounds interesting." Ron realized anything that made Mr. Granger look so disgusted was probably full of sugar and, and most likely delicious. He couldn't wait to try it.

Mr. Granger chuckled to himself. "One time, when Jean and I were dating, we went to the cinema and I accidentally spilled a drink all over her dress, halfway through the film. She was furious, so we missed the rest of the show and I took her home. Luckily, she still wanted to see me, and we laughed about it a few days later. It's a good thing too, because I was already quite taken with her."

Ron let out a laugh. "Magic certainly would have been useful there!"

As they came down the stairs, Mrs. Granger and Hermione was stunned to see the two men laughing jovially.

Ron caught Hermione's eye, and sucked in a breath. "Blimey. You look incredible!"

She'd pinned up her hair, and had changed outfits, opting for a black knee-length skirt, warm stockings, a dark blue jumper, and a denim jacket.

She touched her hair self-consciously, as Ron continued to stare. "It's nothing, really."

"Looks like I'm not the only who's quite taken," joked Mr. Granger.

Ron watched as Hermione approached, holding out her hand. He took it and stood up, pulling her into a hug and gently kissing the top of her head.

"Ready to go?"

He nodded, nerves suddenly exploding throughout his body. He was going on an actual date with Hermione, something that a few weeks ago seemed like an impossibility.

"I promise I won't spill a drink on you."

She looked up at him strangely, not understanding why her parents burst out laughing "I hope not."

[marauder--harder]

Methods of Torture- A Remus Lupin Imagine (Part 2 of The Torturous Year)

A/N: Guess who’s back bitches! Yep, I finally got my shit together and wrote the next installment for y’all. It is a doozy. Over 3.5 k words here. I don’t know what happened, and it honestly isn’t perfect but I am just too excited that I don’t want to tweak it any longer. So sorry if it is kind of choppy in some areas. I also wanted to thank you all for being so patient with me. I hope to keep writing every day, although I am moving into my dorm in 2 days so we’ll see. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! 

Previous Installments: The Torturous Year. (Part 1)

Throughout the next few weeks after your return to Hogwarts, you tried to get control over yourself. It was a battle that you were determined to win because ‘no, you do not like him and even if you did, this needed to stop.’

So you did your best to ignore the spike of your heart rate whenever his arm brushed against yours in the halls, or how your hands grew clammy whenever he would lock eyes with you in the late hours of the night. Although, dear Godric did he make things difficult for you. The boy had methods of torture lined up for you, in every detail of his body.

You learned quickly that he had also spent most of the summer abroad in France. He had a brief summer fling with a local muggle girl there, which no you were totally not jealous of. James teased his friend often about how great this French girl must have been to instill confidence in their now resident lover boy. You ignored the new found nickname for him, and the thought of a young, pretty, maybe slightly older French girl wrapped around Remus. Instead you focused on asking him about the other aspects of his time in France, like the mountains and the muggle shops. You asked him in great detail about Paris, and if it really was as amazing as every muggle book described. Luckily however, Remus, nor any of the others, didn’t notice that he had to repeat his adventures in France to you a couple of days after he had told the boys on the train. Where your brain was when he mentioned it the first time, you were hoping not to think about.

Although, over time you couldn’t help but realize that whatever happened in France with his fling must have been quite a trip for Remus to come back looking and acting the way he did. He was definitely not the same boy who left the Hogwarts Express with you just three months ago. All the boys had noticed his change too, as it tended to be a subject of teasing for Remus.

When Remus walked into Divination and had to duck, he earned the brief nickname of ‘Jolly Green Giant’ from Lily. The others not understanding and Lily having to explain the tale only made his teasing that much worse. You had noticed that his cheeks had dusted an attractive shade of pink, highlighting his newly found freckles.

James had also taken to the habit of using Remus whenever he was trying to get something from someone. For the longest time Peter was used as the way to weasel their way out of numerous detentions with his soft features and nervous, could-do-no-wrong look. However, this year the boys made Prefect Remus try because “Moony, I swear with your sparkling eyes and innocent smile, nobody can say no to you.” And it worked too. Remus tended to get them off the hook more than any other year that Peter tried. Whether it was smiling innocently at teachers or accidentally charming both female and male students, Remus got good at wiggling his way out of punishments for the whole lot.

The most notable thing about Remus’ change was his newfound strength. You didn’t notice it at first, maybe a few months after you had started the school year. By now you had been able to find a way to suppress your blushing and rapid heartbeat around the young boy, until one afternoon after Charms.

Professor Flitwick had asked Remus to help him with moving some boxes around after class and without hesitation he lifted them, moving them across the room. You watched with the rest of your friends, and a few other swooning girls, his biceps strain under his uniform and his jaw tense when his hands slipped slightly. It was only after he returned did you realize that your mouth was hanging open slightly, actually gaping at the ease in which he moved the heavy boxes.

“You know mate,” James had started, clapping Remus on the back lightly, “I know you want to show off and everything, but I think Flitwick meant that you were to use magic for that.”

Remus just continued to pack up his stuff, ducking his head to try and avoid the obvious blush travelling up his neck, across his cheeks and to the tips of his ears.

“Oh, sod off. I didn’t think about it. It wasn’t that big of a deal. They were just a couple of boxes with some textbooks in them.”

James laughed and pointed across the room, near the door, where a few girls had stayed behind to watch Remus’ show. “Tell that to your fans.”

Remus’ brows rose in slight astonishment and grew more red.

The rest of the group, still teasing him slightly, started to make their way out of the class; and when you hopped off your stool you noticed with a shameful amount of embarrassment that your legs were actually shaking slightly.

You stood there, absolutely mortified. The rest seemed to notice your absence and turned in confusion.

“You coming, Y/N?”

You cleared your throat and nodded, willing yourself to control your own body when you took a step. Your knee strained slightly, but held and you breathed out a small sigh, thanking all the gods you could think of. You truly didn’t understand what your issue was this year, as you kept telling yourself that Remus was still the same boy you had been with for the past six years. You needed to get a grip.

Once you fell back in place with the others, Sirius noticed the slightest flush in your cheeks. Leaning in closer, he grinned and whispered, “need a big, strong Moony to carry you there, love?”

He laughed when you tripped over your own shoe and stumbled slightly.

Thankfully for you, you had ceased to notice anything more about Remus for the next few weeks—until after the full moon.

It was during your visit the morning after his transformation. You had made it a habit for almost a year now to see that he was safe a few hours after sunrise each month. The boys would be in bed, resting after their long night when you’d sneak into the Hospital Wing. For the first few months Madam Pomfrey kicked you out, constantly scolding you about not letting Remus get his well needed healing time; but after your persistent nagging and repeated sneaking, she let you stay.

Most of the time Remus would be asleep, although there were many of mornings where he’d swear up and down that he wasn’t even tired and wanted to talk to you. The two of you would talk, filling him in lightly on the classes that he missed. Yet, after a few hours you would always notice that his eyes would begin to droop as he fought to stay awake. That’s when you decided that you would read to him.

“I’m not trying to get you to sleep, Moony, I promise!” You’d insist.

He’d smile tiredly and roll his eyes, both of you knowing full well that it was exactly what you were trying to do. “Okay, Y/N, then you better choose a good book.”

And you did, reading to him every morning, the two of you would go through book after book. Sometimes it would be muggle novels, other times astronomy books or magical stories. It got to a point, where both of you would almost look forward to the morning after each full moon. It was some sort of twisted comfort that you got in each other’s company.

This month, you decided to surprise Moony. bringing him his favorite muggle book, first edition; a gift that took months of searching and saving up for. Yet, when you pulled back the curtain to his bed, you stilled and dropped the present with a slight thud.

“Remus,” you whispered, as you watched Madam Pomfrey continue to wrap his bare chest to dress his wounds. He had a long gash from his left shoulder, across his collarbone, down to where you presumed would be his navel, as he was covered in a white dressing that wrapped around the lower part of his torso. You took in the many scars across his chest and arms, and quickly felt the stinging prick of tears behind your eyes.

At the sound of your voice, both Remus and Pomfrey turned toward you. Remus’ eyes quickly averted yours as his cheeks grew red with embarrassment. Madam Pomfrey, however, turned so she shielded him from you slightly, before standing taller.

“Ms. Y/L/N!” she started, snapping your eyes from Remus’ form and turning to the now slightly red faced woman in front of you. “I do recall saying many of times that you may visit Mr. Lupin each month after I have given him a thorough inspection and deemed him suitable for visitors. Don’t you?”

You slowly nodded as you tried to focus on what the older nurse was scolding you for, and not the growing concern you had for Remus. The scars on his chest ranged from looking red and angry to a ghostly white, which contrasted greatly against his newly tanned skin tone. His skin that looked smooth and soft, compared to the rough scars and his gash that quickly formed a deep pit in your stomach.

“Well then, Ms. Y/L/N, I would think that you should wait outside until I tell you otherwise?”

You blinked once, then twice, and shook yourself back into reality. “Yes, uh,” you stammered, suddenly embarrassed for the scene you were causing and the amount of discomfort you knew Remus was in, “I’m sorry Remus, I-I’ll just be waiting in your office Madam.” Without a response from either of them, you turned and rushed to her office as quickly as you could.

Once there, you stopped and closed your eyes, willing yourself to think about anything else besides Remus. You’ve seen him after the full moon for nearly a year now; this by far not being the worst that he has been. You recalled the moon that Remus had fractured his wrist in two places, or when he got the scar that is now a faint white line across this bridge of his nose.

Yet, when you saw Remus sitting there, you couldn’t help but feel the deep pit in your stomach grow. The way his shoulders tensed when he realized you were there, and how his muscles twitched under the hands of his caretaker made you feel equal parts concerned and flustered.

After what felt like an eternity, Madam Pomfrey finally returned, looking slightly tired and relieved. She made no acknowledgement to you, just turned and started tidying up her office space.

“So,” you started, “is he usually like that when he comes in?”

The question made her still, and look up at you. For a few moments neither of you said anything, just staring at one another. Madam Pomfrey studied you for a long while, before smiling ever so slightly.

“You seem to care for Mr. Lupin quite a bit, Ms. Y/L/N. He is very lucky to have a friend like you.”

You shrugged, looking down at the floor. “He has the rest of the boys too. It’s not just me that cares about him.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded, her smile growing. “This is true, my dear. Yet, I haven’t seen the boys come in here every morning just after sunrise to see him, now do I?”

You shook your head, thinking to yourself that you wish you could do half as much as the boys do for Remus. “You never answered my question.”

Slowly her smile faded, and she took in a deep breath. “There are months where he has come in much worse condition than this. However, it seemed as if the strength in which he injured himself has increased; and with the maturity that he has hit this past holiday,” she trailed off, and you couldn’t help the faint blush that rose to your cheeks at the mention of his change. “I am afraid that the full moons are going to be a lot more difficult for Mr. Lupin in the future.”

You nodded; and sighed, feeling your heart break for Remus. "Thank you, for being honest with me. May I see him now?”

Madam Pomfrey nodded, resuming her cleaning of her desk. “Yes, you may. Although, I must remind you that he does need his rest so please keep your visit short.”

Turning, you walked to her door and paused, your hand still on the handle. “Madam Pomfrey?” You asked, and she stilled again, turning towards you.

“Yes, dear?”

“It’s easy, isn’t it?”

The older woman furrowed her brows in confusion, “I beg your pardon, but what’s easy?”

You smiled softly, “Caring about him. You don’t even notice it, when you first start to. You just, sort of, do. He’s a very easy boy to care about.” You turned, looking away from his curtain, back to the older woman. “Don’t you think?”

A smile that you have never seen graced Madam Pomfrey’s face, and you briefly noticed how pretty she was in her growing age. “Yes, Ms. Y/L/N, that I do.”

With another nod and a smile, you turned and walked over to Remus’ bed. You cleared your throat loudly before peaking your head through.

“Is it safe?” you asked, eyes closed and grin wide.

Remus rolled his eyes and smirked, “I think it just might be.”

“Might be? Well, who am I to enter a fair gentleman’s chamber without knowing that he is properly covered?” You teased, opening one eye and looking around before dramatically whispering. “I may just be attacked by his dragon nurse.”

Remus laughed heartily, throwing his head back as you stepped in. “Just get in here, my knight in shining armor.”

Picking up the book you had once dropped on the floor, you smiled and waved it in his sight. “I am here to rescue you, after all.”

Remus’ eyes widened, his smile dropping along with his jaw as you handed over the book. “This is my favorite! Please tell me you’ve read this before.”

You smiled, and shook your head, “I haven’t but maybe you could read it to me this time. Now that you have a copy. I hope you don’t mind, actually. It’s a first edition, totally legit. And I know Christmas isn’t for another few weeks but I thought that it would be a good idea to give it to you now, because we always do the book thing. Maybe I should have waited…”

Remus just simply laughed, harder and harder until he was wincing and clutching his stomach. “Calm down, love.” he wheezed and you instantly found yourself fighting yet another blush. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Anytime, Moony.”

There were a few moments of silence between you before Remus broke it, saying, “well, let’s get you educated on the best book you will ever read, eh?” He shifted slightly, trying to sit up and quickly winced in pain.

You reached out, lightly pushing him back onto the pillows. “Easy there. I don’t want you busting that open and having dragon Pomfrey come yell at me.”

Remus sighed and looked up at you sadly. “How am I supposed to read to you then?”

Taking the book from his hand gently, you gave him a playfully wry look. “I thought you liked my voices?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, staring up at the white ceiling above him. A strange look passed over his face, all teasing gone.

“That’s not what I meant.”

You knew that the full moons were always a difficult time for the boy and this time around, you could feel the frustration and defeat rolling off of him in waves.

“Hey,” your hand slowly traced down his arm, to rest on top of his hand before giving it a gentle squeeze. “You can read it to me some other time. Right now, we can just talk; or you could get some rest—”

“No—” he cut you off, and you could feel his hand tense into a fist underneath your hand. “Please, don’t go.”

You smiled and pulled up a chair to sit in, before resting your hand back on top of his. “Then let’s talk.” There was a pause, where you glanced down towards his bandage. Madam Pomfrey’s words replayed in your head, over and over again; and you began wondering about how he fared each full moon. Over the months you had stayed with him, you tried not to ask much about his condition in fear of upsetting him. Although, finally seeing the severity of his wounds first hand, your mouth seemed to catch up with your mind before you had any thought to stop it.

“Does it—does it hurt much?”

Remus sighed gently, before shaking his head, “no, not really.” After a few moments he added, “you know this isn’t really what I had in mind when I meant ‘talk.’”

Paying his half teasing no mind, you pressed on, “do you usually get that hurt and I just don’t see it?”

It was as if your brain had lost all connection with its filter, as you asked question after question. You barely even registered the shameful prick of tears as they welled in your eyes. “I mean, how could I not have ever noticed? You always seemed so fine; exhausted and a bit beat up, but fine. A-And this isn’t fine, you know, like that has to be painful. Have you just been hiding it? Because, the marauders and I, we’re your friends; you don’t have to hide that stuff from us.” Suddenly you paused, and furrowed your brow slightly, still staring at his torso. More tears welled in your eyes, and you feebly fought them back.

“Of course, maybe the boys always knew about it. They are with you after all, so it only makes sense that they know; but that means that you’d be hiding it from me. Which technically you have every right to; you don’t owe me anything, let alone information about the thing you hate most. But I would have thought that we were close enough...

“And how long exactly are you in pain after? I mean, you usually come back to class a few days after the full moon; but that doesn’t mean anything. You’d totally be the type to come back even if you were in pain. You’re not in pain, are you?”

Brows furrowed and head tilted, Remus looked at you. “Hey,” your eyes finally met his, tearing away from the white of his bandage to meet the green of his eyes. “I’m okay, Y/N, really. See?” He took your hand in his and pulled it up to press lightly against his bandage. You felt the steady thrum of his heart under the wrappings, and tried to match your shaky breathing to it.

Neither of you said anything for minutes, as you closed your eyes while trying to calm yourself. Remus stared at you, however, a small smile on his face as he realized the depth of which you cared for others.

He didn’t see this side of you often, and he recalled that the last time you got this worked up over someone was when Sirius had broken his collarbone after a nasty fall during quidditch last term. You had screamed at him for a solid three minutes straight before storming off, tears in your eyes. He also noted that this was one of the only times he had ever seen you cry. Presumably you probably cried over Sirius’ broken bones but left after Sirius tried joking that you were going soft on them.

After a few minutes, you slowly opened your eyes to find Remus staring at you intently. You felt your cheeks grow hot under his gaze and feebly tried to hide your embarrassment at your outburst. “So,” you started, clearing your throat and sniffing twice, ignoring the obvious fact that you had just been crying. “You’re fine? Like, this isn’t a normal thing?”

Remus couldn’t help but smile slightly and squeeze your hand gently, “I’m fine. I’ve seen worse, but if you want me to be honest I have a feeling that the wolf is getting stronger. There will probably be a lot more moons like this, but nothing I can’t handle.”

You frowned slightly, yet couldn’t help but remember what Madam Pomfrey had said. It wasn’t just the wolf that got stronger, nor it a shock that he got this hurt, if the sudden toned muscle in his human form was anything to go by.

“Well,” he chuckled, trying, and failing to hide his grin, “I didn’t realize there was much of a change, Y/N.”

You paled and looked up at his now grinning form, watching his eyes dance with what you could imagine was only boyish pride. You groaned softly and took in a deep breath, covering your face with your hands.

“Please don’t tell me I said that out loud.”

Remus only answered with more laughter that made your cheeks flame even further. Picking up his book, you smacked his leg with it lightly, earning a slight yelp from the werewolf laying next to you.

“Just for that, I’m reading this book on my own.”

His laughter stopped abruptly and gaped at you, “hey! That’s my gift!”

“Yes, it is; but, I think you may just have to wait for Christmas for it now. You’re not being a very good boy.”

Fighting another grin, he cleared his throat, “are you saying I’ve been naughty?”

Eyes widened and another three smacks landed on his thigh, punctuated by each word. “Remus John Lupin!”

“Sorry, sorry! Is this my spanking?” Laughter could be heard now from both young teens until it was interrupted by a very angry nurse, scolding the two for causing a ruckus in her infirmary. Turning to you, she explained that no amount of caring will jeopardize the healing of her patient, so you had to leave.

Nodding your head, you turned to Remus and leaned in, whispering in his ear, “trust me, Moony, you don’t want to see the spankings I give actual naughty boys. Merry Christmas.”

You set the book on his lap gently, before pulling away and gathering up the rest of your things. As you left, you smirked, thinking about the amusing blush left on Remus’ cheeks and how maybe you could torture Remus just as much as he tortures you.

Torturer: 0

Tortured: 1

Tag List: (if you’d like to be tagged, let me know!)

@gondorgirl01 , @dare-to-dream-about-1d 

[valkyrieelysia18]

Guy Talk

"I need advice."

That sudden statement to Oscar Pine and Jaune Arc after they had just gotten back to their Inn after daily training (with Nora and Ruby conspicuously absent) left them staring down Ren for a few seconds before the blonde responded. "Okay, who are you and what have you done to my teammate?"

"I'm being serious Jaune, I need advice on what to do with Nora!"

"Seriously, if you've hurt Ren, you won't get a chance to think before she kills you!"

Oscar sighed, feeling a sense of calmed assuredness that might have come from his predecessors' experiences. "Jaune, stop yanking his chain. Ren, maybe you could clarify what you mean. From my point of view, you and Nora don't  seem to be having any obvious problems."

Ren sighed before he went on to explain. "Well, we're technically not....it's this whole situation that's kind of the issue."

Jaune spoke as he put away his and Oscar's gear for the day. "What do you mean by that?"

"I've been hanging with Nora around the city a lot more recently considering how Qrow is giving you guys and Ruby private lessons. I'm not complaining about that, I completely understand why given Ruby was his original student and you two seriously need the instruction. You're lucky to have it."

Oscar smiled. "Good to know how you feel."

Jaune's expression was utter deadpan. "I'd say you're the lucky one. I swear that guy gets off on making me suffer."

The wizard in the farm boy's head chimed in, unknowingly to the other two. Oh please, compared to my mentor, you two are getting off easy.

Before Oscar could get into another conversation completely in his head, Ren continued the discussion. "Anyway, ever since Kuroyuri, hanging out with Nora...it feels like things have changed between us."

Jaune asked. "Is it a bad change?"

The usually calm young man shook his head. "No, not at all! It's really nice. But it's like she's kind of expecting me to do more since I grabbed her hand on the airship. Before Beacon had fallen, I knew what I wanted. Become a Huntsman, get a house in Vale, settle down with Nora..."

Oscar was rather surprised at the forethought. "You were thinking that far ahead?"

"I was planning on proposing when we graduated. But with the way things are now....so much has changed and I don't know what I should do. After all, there's a very real possibility that we're all not going to make it out of this. So, I don't know where that leaves things."

Oscar winced before he went on. "Yeah....I can understand that. But at least there's nothing really keeping you from acting on your feelings."

Now it was Ren's turn to be a little surprised. "Really? From my point of view, you and Ruby seem to have good chemistry with each other."

"Well, it's kind of complicated to explain, but just because I feel that way about her, doesn't necessarily mean I can act on those feelings. And no, it has nothing to do with Qrow or anybody else in her family."

Yes, that was a cold bitter fact Oscar had to swallow. Just because he liked Ruby, doesn't mean he could truly act on those feelings. Aside from the obvious world ending war coming up (not explicitly stated but implied), having Ozpin be privy to his innermost feelings and private moments with Ruby was more than uncomfortable, it was mortifying. Not to mention, the memories of the loved ones of his previous lives could pop up at any minute. That's not even getting into Ruby's issues. Sooner or later, she would want answers and telling her the full truth would shatter what trust they had. They could be friends, they could flirt, but a real relationship was something that wasn't possible for them with the way things were.

The farm boy then came back to the conversation. "Anyway, it seems to me you and Nora are doing fine. I think maybe you're worrying a little too much."

Ren nodded, his expression contemplative. "I suppose that might true. So, should I just take it as it comes?"

Jaune then spoke up. "I'm not so sure that would be best."

Both black haired young men turned to the blonde, Oscar being the one to ask the question. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Ren you obviously care about Nora in the romantic way from what you've been saying, not just as a friend or family."

His teammate leveled a raised eyebrow at him. "I thought that would be obvious by this point."

"What I'm trying to get at it is if you were planning on proposing to Nora, when were you planning on dating her, or more specifically, when were you going to tell her how you feel?"

Ren opened his mouth before slowly closing it as he considered the question.

Jaune explained as he went on. "I mean, you two have definitely been together long enough that maybe you don't need to date to see if you're compatible like other people have to, but you still need to tell Nora that your feelings have changed."

"I....thought it was obvious to her that I cared about her."

The blonde stared down Ren incredulously. "Yeah, as a friend, but not romantically. Or was the together not together thing not obvious? Face it, Nora's idea of subtlety is breaking someone's legs."

The Mistralian born teen nodded slowly. "I suppose that was a presumptuous thought on my part."

Oscar then added his own thoughts to matter. "Yeah, I mean what if Nora had started dating someone else at Beacon? Or what if you had found someone else and your feelings had changed? These things do happen. And if by some chance the two of you had remained single, getting a proposal out of the blue after four years of no expressed romantic interest would come across less romantic and instead kind of cold. At least, that's my opinion, I get the feeling Nora would like some romance."

Ren took in those thoughts, before groaning as he hung his head. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Jaune shook his head with a sigh before his eyes took a somber tone to them. "You focused so much on the logical side of your relationship and completely forgot the emotional aspect. Listen Ren, if there is anything I have learned from my relationship with Pyrrha is that the key to a strong relationship is open honest communication. You both need to know what the other wants from each other. You know what you want, but what does Nora want? Until you guys get to an understanding, I don't see you guys really progressing."

Ren slowly nodded. "You make some good points. You're right, I really do need to have a talk with Nora."

"Well what you know, a couple of teenage boys are more mature about relationships than some adults I know."

Said young men turned to find Qrow Branwen in the corner, looking particularly amused at them all.

Jaune threw an irate glare at the older huntsman. "You're not exactly the pinnacle of maturity yourself."

The man's tone sharpened before returning to normal. "I haven't been in a relationship for quite some time and believe it or not, I was completely serious when I was. But that's not what I came to talk to you guys about. I was hoping you guys could come down and help and break up the mini food fight the girls caused down in the lobby."

Oscar's voice was full disbelief. "We've just been talking about them and they were in the middle of 'fighting' each other?"

Ren, on the other hand, was back to being even tempered as usual. "I feel like this is the opposite of how it's expected when boys and girls are separated."

"I could mention a few stories when Tai and I were left on our own on the girls' nights out, but now's not the time! I can't control that Valkyrie girl and Ruby isn't exactly happy with me at the moment after she found out about some stuff I was making you two do for training."

Jaune seemed to smirk at that, muttering worth it, getting a premium quality glare from the huntsman.

Ren and Oscar looked at each other before sighing in unison and walking towards the door. "I take Ruby, you take Nora?"

"I just hope whatever stains she's no doubt already gotten on her clothes are easy to get out."

"You know Ren, you already sound like you and Nora are married."

"You're not the first person to say that to me."

The two went down the hall, leaving the blonde huntsman in training alone with the actual huntsman of the group. It was silent for a few moments before Qrow broke ice. "So, I take you haven't decided to abandon the path of a huntsman and turn to counseling? Because that was on par with some of the best relationship advice I've heard period."

Jaune snorted before speaking. "Don't worry, you won't be losing your punching bag for stress relief any time soon."

Qrow's smirk was positively devilish. "I'm only hard on you so that you'll be able to get to the level you need to be at. Though, I won't deny I get some amusement from watching you squirm."

"You have issues."

"So does everyone who's in this line of work, some of them are just a lot more obvious about it. Anyway, let me pass on a piece of advice to you. I know you and that Pyrrha girl were close and the idea of getting romantically involved again isn't something you can see doing right now, if ever."

"Get to point."

"What I'm trying to say is that just because you'll never love someone else the same way you loved her, doesn't mean you'll never love again. And that's not just limited to romance, you're allowed to find another partner as well."

Jaune crossed his arms, his blue eyes as hard as gemstones. "Just because I understand what you're trying to say, doesn't mean I want hear it."

"Just the fact you're listening is fine for now. Anyway, while those four are sorting that problem out, how about a rematch?"

"You're a really sore loser, you know that old man."

Qrow's red eyes sharpened as he went to go get the game. "One, don't ever call me old. Two, that was luck. Third, this is just to satisfy my curiosity."

Whew, done. Seriously, this ideas of mine take a while to put up. I just thought this up after considering the ever present trope in some movies and tv shows for guys to just fight with each other while girls just talk about the boys they like. Believe me, it's very annoying how that's a thing.

Though, what could Qrow be curious about? What caused Oscar to change his actions toward Ruby? I'll probably get to writing to those instances later.

Hope you enjoy!

[johnadamsbignaturals]

an explanation

okay, so a lot of people have been messaging me about the seussical posts i’ve been making, about how i think the cat in the hat is a trickster god and whatnot, but rest assured that i am NOT EXAGGERATING HOW FUCKED UP THIS MUSICAL IS.

for those of you who’ve never heard of Seussical the Musical, it’s basically a mash-up of famous Dr. Seuss stories, which sound harmless enough, right? at least, that’s what i thought when i performed the Jr version a about 5 years ago at my camp. About two months ago, I got some of the songs stuck in my head and decided to look it up, and finally read the original script.

(this has some... well a lot of spoilers, so i guess if you plan on somehow seeing it then you might just want to skip this post)

Let’s just start off with the Whos. Most American children have read Horton Hears a Who at some point, and we’re all familiar with their precarious fate of the Whos’ tiny planet, floating aimlessly on a speck of dust, leaving them vulnerable to crashing, drowning, and any other kind of atrocity that could happen to a minuscule world. However, the Seussical writers decided to add on having the Whos fight the Butter Battle (from the Butter Battle Book, a Cold-War era Seuss story about mutually-assured destruction)

Now, let’s go onto the Cat in the Hat character. HOoooOOOoOOOOo fuckin boy. This guy. This fucker. No words can explain how much I’d like to sock him in the nose.

So, basically, the show starts off with a Boy finding that iconic red and white striped hat on the stage and then thinking Cat into existence. Cat acts as a narrator (as well as inserting himself as certain minor roles), and the Boy had been co-narrating with him until after the Who song, when Cat shoves him into the story, making him Jojo, the mayor’s son.

So now it’s established that the Boy, Cat’s creator, has no power over him, and this is where Cat starts manipulating things. Skip forward a couple scenes, and the planet of Who is in mortal peril. Vlad Vladikoff has just dropped them from mid air and they’re falling to the ground, a hundred miles down. Now, by this point in the show, Jojo and Horton, the main character of the entire show, have met and become friends, so Horton’s is particularly mortified by this. Then, this fucker, this fucking cat jumps on stage, freezes time, and starts singing to a cheerful tune about how lucky the audience is to not be a Who. 

So that happens. Now Horton has to search through thousands upon thousands of clovers to find the Whos, and after a certain amount of time he becomes hopeless. Enter: Mayzie LaBird, who’s sick and tired of having to sit on her egg, and begs Horton to take her place so she can rest for an hour or two. Horton, poor sweet naive Horton, agrees, and Mayzie of course fucks off to Palm Beach, leaving Horton to sit his ass on that egg for nearly a year, through the fall, winter, and spring, and because of this he is unable to continue looking for the Whos.

Suddenly, a group of hunters appear! They surround Horton, and while Gertrude McFuzz (a bird who’s romantically interested in Horton), is nearby, she can’t do anything but watch, because the tail she had grown to impress Horton was now too heavy to fly with. At this terrifying moment, our local trickster cat decides it’s time for a reprise of “How Lucky You Are’, only this time he decides to let the characters themselves sing it, their expressions going from petrified to jolly as they’re unfrozen.

And that’s a wrap for Act 1!

Act two begins with a lovely recount of what’s currently happening in the plot (i.e. everything has gone horribly wrong for everybody)

The hunters capture Horton and ship him overseas where his is auctioned and sold as a circus animal. Horton happens to bump into Mayzie, who refuses to take back the egg. Horton, helpless and heartbroken, reflects on his adventure in the intro to what is honestly the saddest bloody song I’ve ever heard (Solla Sollew).

I mean, just look at these lyrics:

Now it’s time to check back in on Jojo, who had been sent by his parents to military school in hopes to keep his wild Thinks under control. Now that the Whos had lost Horton’s protection, they are without a doubt going to war, and the young cadets at General Genghis Kahn Schmitz’s military academy have been training nonstop for battle. 

.................................

...Jojo blows himself up on a minefield.

Except, wait! He’s not actually dead! He’s just trapped in a horrific seussian nightmare realm filled with creatures called the Hunches. He calls out to Horton, begging for help, to no avail.

And, oh? What’s this? You guessed it- the Cat is the one running the nightmare realm! What a fucking surprise!

I don’t want to get too spoilery (and also I hate typing), so let’s just say that Jojo makes it out of the Nightmare Realm™ by taking control of his Thinks, and finds his way home. Horton is reunited with his clover and the Whos when Gertrude finds him (she had plucked the feathers out of her tail), and everything is wrapping up to be a happy ending when, wouldn’t ya know, THE FUCKING CAT POPS UP GOING “Oh, how touching! but this story’s far from over.” (Jojo also manages to break character for a few seconds be the Boy again and says “Oh, yes it is too! Get me down from this clover!”, which I think is interesting). 

The jungle creatures from the beginning of the play, who had ridiculed Horton for believing that the Whos were real, jump on stage and kidnap Horton, bringing him back to the jungle to be put on trial. 

So, umm???? There was honestly no need for that???? Were they just trying to prove a point or something?????????? I have no idea. 

In any case, let’s skip forward about a scene and a half to the actual ending. Things have wrapped up nicely, with a solution to everyone’s problems. There’s a big dance number, and everything’s a-okay. Then....

[sheikah]

#2 on the drabble prompts. How about for Jon and Daenerys since that's your thing?

Oooh! Thanks for asking me to do this. I love it. Drabbles have never been my strong suit so I hope this is okay? It’s kind of long haha. Also kind of fluffy and fanciful, entirely implausible in GoT canon. I regret nothing! XD

“How long have you been standing there?”

The question jolted Jon from his reverie and he glanced overto see his sister smiling coyly, taunting him. He hadn’t noticedSansa walk over to meet him, lost in his own thoughts amidst the bustle of theball, the press of people filling Dragonstone’s Great Hall to capacity.

“What else would you have me do?” he asked her, shrugging.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Sansa gestured dramatically at the grandspectacle of it all, indicating the couples dancing on the well-polished floor allaround them. “I suppose dancing neveroccurred to you?”

Jon scoffed. “These highborn ladies have no interest indancing with a Northern bastard.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re more than that, and you know it.‘The King in the North whose name is Stark,’” Sansa recited, stepping in frontof him to command his attention, her steely blue eyes finding his. “And you’vegot more than your fair share of willing partners,” she added, nodding almostimperceptibly toward the back corner of the room.

Jon glanced over to see little Lady Lyanna Mormont regardinghim from across the hall, her eyes shining with admiration. When she noticedhim looking her cheeks burned redder than crabapples and she turned awayhastily.

Jon couldn’t help but smile. He liked the plucky little girl.She reminded him of Arya. In his little sister’s continued absence, it was acomfort to have someone to look after—although, truthfully, Lady Mormont seemedmore than capable of looking after herself.

“You ought to ask her to dance,” Sansa urged. “It doesn’tlook good, you brooding away over here while everyone else is making friends.Remember why you’re really here. You need alliances from the North and Southalike, Jon.”

He sighed in resignation. She was right, of course. Sheordinarily was in these instances, being better versed in court intrigue thanhe was or wished to be. Jon was about to comply when Sansa continued, her wordsstopping him short.

“Unless, of course, you have another partner in mind.” She moved back to Jon’s side, leaving hisview of the dance floor unobstructed. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?”

“Who is?” he asked; but it was all a farce. Sansa knew. Of course she knew.

“You don’t need to play the fool with me, Jon,” she saidquietly. The Dragon Queen’s ball was evidently an opportunity for DaenerysTargaryen to get to know her new Southern lords bannermen. Jon and his retinuehad arrived from the North a week before seeking dragonglass, and were stillguests in her home. The queen had graciously included them in her soiree andsent an invitation to Sansa at Winterfell as well.

Jon felt glad of it, then. However often he bickered with hissister, he was grateful for her trust and companionship in this unfamiliarsetting.

He turned back to the dancers, his eyes finding the couplehe’d been watching when Sansa had interrupted him before. “Yes,” he admittedfinally, his eyes following Daenerys across the floor. “She is lovely.”

The queen was resplendent this evening, captivating. Her longhair hung in loose curls instead of the intricate braids she ordinarily wore.The steps of the dance brought her in an out of the light from the giant,candle-laden chandeliers overhead. Their glow made a rainbow of her shimmeringlocks, red as dragon’s flame one moment, and cool, icy silver the next. Her dresswas boldly cut, leaving her back and shoulders bare, her exposed skin brazenlyinviting roving eyes. The fabric of the gown, a deep, bloody crimson befittinga Targaryen monarch, clung to every one of her generous curves before fanningout into an impressive skirt that swept across the floor as she danced.

Something her partner said elicited a surprisingly girlishand youthful giggle and Daenerys stopped dancing, covering her mouth with herhand. Apparently, Yara Greyjoy was very amusing. They were both rubbishdancers—something which came as a surprise to Jon. He didn’t know much aboutcourt but he thought that all princesses and queens must have been instructedin dancing at some time. Regardless, the inelegant pair didn’t seem to be hamperedby stepping on one another’s feet. The two of them had been causing quite astir. A woman leading another woman in a dance was incredibly scandalous; buttrue to her daring personality, Daenerys seemed completely unbothered by thescrutiny of her court.

The song ended and Yara, dressed in a sleek, black leatherdoublet and breeches bowed low, planting a kiss on Daenerys’s hand beforeescorting her off of the dance floor. They stopped only a short distance fromwhere Jon and Sansa stood. Yara excused herself and disappeared into the crowd,leaving Danaerys momentarily alone as she poured herself a glass of fragrantsummer wine.

“Now’s your chance,” Sansa hissed urgently, shoving Jon inthe direction of the queen. For all his quick reflexes and fighting instincts,Jon barely had time to react as Sansa’s unexpected strength propelled himtoward the queen. He stumbled involuntarily forward amongst a group of othermen, the perfumed lords already approaching Daenerys in the hopes of being hernext partner.

She glanced up at their approach, her gaze moving right pastthe others; they might as well have been made of air. Her singular, lilac eyessettled on Jon and a broad grin graced her pretty face. She set her wine downon the banquet table behind her and addressed them politely. “My Lords,” shesaid courteously to her would-be suitors, dropping into a curtsy. Before anyonecould ask her for a dance she rose with a rustle of her silk gown and pushedpast them, halting in front of Jon.

“Jon Snow,” she began, arching a brow.“I haven’t seen you dancing once all evening. Are you not enjoying myhospitality?”

He was at a loss. Wasshe scolding him? By all appearances Daenerys seemed to be teasing him, but what kind of queen would play at jokes with aNorthern bastard in the presence of her noble guests?

He cleared his throatuncomfortably, searching for the right response. A glance over Daenerys’sshoulder revealed Sansa, her elaborate green dress and shock of fiery hairwere easily distinguishable in the crowd. His sister was desperately trying tomouth advice to him from a distance, but he could not decipher any of it. Jonsmirked at Sansa’s enthusiasm, feeling emboldened by her presence and encouragement,and by the fact that the queen—this breathtaking woman who had tamed dragonsand crossed oceans—had approached him.

“I’ve been waiting forthe right partner,” he explained to Daenerys at last.

A faint blush stoleacross her cheeks. “Oh?”

“Yes,” hemurmured, searching her face for a sign of reluctance, and finding none.“I think I found her.”

Daenerys’s radiantgrin widened as she nodded her assent. 

Jon’s nerves threatenedto get the better of him then, his blood pounding in his ears so hard it nearlydrowned out din of the crowded hall. But as if on cue, the music began againand he bowed slightly, offering his hand.

The queen placed hersmall hand in his as Jon led her to the dance floor with the other couples. Thedance was uncomplicated and not particularly intimate. Yet each time the stepsbrought them together, each press of palm to palm, each whisper of Jon’sfingertips across the smooth flesh of her back, created a crackle ofelectricity between them. His prior hesitation was replaced with palpableexcitement. Daenerys was surprisingly easy and pleasant company, and in spiteof all of his troubles—the looming threat, the doubt he harbored about his ownability to lead —Jon was surprised to find himself relaxing by degrees. He washaving fun.

Daenerys appeared tobe enjoying herself as well, her face flushed from wine and revelry. “I’msurprised, my lord,” she said breathlessly. “You’re quite the capable dancer.”

“Well,” he replied,his eyes dancing mischievously. “That makes one of us.”

For a moment the queen’slovely face hardened with a chilly indignation. But the light in Jon’s playful smile melted her ire away and she grinned demurely up at him.

“Very well, Jon Snow. Insultme again and I’ll feed you to my dragons,” she winked. “But I suppose I need tokeep you around to teach me to dance. Who would have thought that you would instruct me?”

“Is it so surprising?” 

“I suppose I justdidn’t imagine you would have much occasion for dancing, being a—”

“Bastard?” he finishedfor her through gritted teeth.

“A man of the Night’sWatch,” she corrected in a small voice.

“Oh.” Jon was mortified,floundering. “Well. I—I used to practice with my little sister, Arya. She hatedit, but our septa wouldn’t rest until she improved. So I helped her. That’s, um… why I can dance.”

Daenerys noddedthoughtfully. “I thought your sister’s name was Sansa,” she mused, her eyessweeping the hall and settling on Sansa in the distance, who was dancingskillfully in the arms of a very nervous-looking Podrick Payne.

Jon followed her gaze,his eyes brightening at the sight of her with Podrick. Jon had grown to likethe young man during his brief stay at Winterfell. He doted on Sansa with anendearing sort of devotion. It was good for her. “Yes,” he answered after amoment, turning back to his own partner. “That is Sansa. Arya was my littlesister. She’s gone, now. Or at least, we suspect she is.”

“I lost my brothers,too,” Daenerys offered. “It isn’t easy.”

She’s suffered so much, Jon thought to himself. It was easy to forget that the devastation of the past few years wasn’t isolated to what his family, his “brothers,” his corner of the world had endured. Grief and hardship had stretched across the Narrow Sea to get their hands on Daenerys as well. “Don’t we make a great pair?” he remarked, smiling grimly.

They moved together insilence for a moment, but then Dany spoke up, her hand tightening on Jon’sshoulder. “Yes. Yes, I believe we domake a great pair.”

Jon’s felt a strangelump rising in his throat at the sincerity in her sweet voice. Gazing down atDaenerys, the rest of the room seemed to dissolve into vapor. Her clumsiness ofbefore had vanished, and they danced with a graceful, effortless rhythm. Itseemed impossible for him to feel so at ease with a queen in his arms, yet hereshe was.

The song ended andthey broke apart reluctantly, Jon bowing to match Danaerys’s curtsy before shestrode away.

She cast a last,lingering look at him over her shoulder as she went, and he was seized by a madurge to chase after her and beg her to dance with only him for the rest of theevening. Jon shook his head, in awe of his own sudden, imprudent fervor.

They’d only just met,but already he felt that Daenerys Targaryen’s warmth could fend off theharshest chill Winter had to offer.

[justsomebucky]

Ten Years (Part 4)

Summary: AU. When a major account is on the line at work, reader is forced to revisit some old connections at her ten year high school reunion for a chance at success. Will she let the past consume her, or will she see the future in her grasp?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,215

Warnings: language, sarcasm, fluff, mentions of past cheating

A/N: I scrapped the original chapter four in favor of this one in which I went a bit overboard. Two more chapters to go, including this one, before the reunion. It’s trying to write itself, I can’t stop it. :)

You got so little sleep on Sunday night that you ended up calling off on Monday morning.

There was no way, no chance that you could have sat there all day with Sam and Wanda grilling you about your Friday night with Bucky. There wasn’t enough coffee in the entire world that would get you through that interrogation. You sent a quick text to Wanda to push back your lunch date.

Instead, you spent your day being totally lazy, perusing Facebook and the reunion page while the rain tapped against your bedroom window.

Tuesday went by quickly, with your coworkers so immersed in their own drama that they barely noticed you, thank goodness.

When Wednesday rolled around, you and Wanda spent your entire lunch hour going over potential conversation starters for when you had to be nice to Natasha and Clint. The plan was to emphasize that you’d moved on, even if you still felt a little hurt (which you were never to admit to them now or ever, per her instructions). Wanda had reasoned that it was okay to be hurt, but carrying it with you wasn’t helping you in any way, and you knew she was right.

On Thursday, you intended on spending lunch alone, but your quest for solitude was broken by a nervous Bucky.

Yes, James Buchanan Barnes, the unstoppable hero of Wakanda, Inc., was nervous about a pitch. If he was nervous, what right did you have to be so calm about it?

So, Bucky sat with you at your usual table in the café across the street from the office, but he wasn’t eating. His chicken salad sat untouched in front of him while he furiously typed on his iPad, adding some last minute touches to his spiel that he was going to use on Natasha.

You were busy looking at Facebook again, frowning at new pictures that Natasha had posted this morning. She and Clint were posing in front of your old high school, holding each other happily.

“Why are you glaring so hard at your phone?”

Your eyes flickered up to meet Bucky’s. “It’s nothing.”

He made a face, showing he didn’t buy it. “Try again.”

“It’s just…they keep posting pictures of themselves, and I keep torturing myself by looking at them.” You glanced back down at the picture.

Realization washed over Bucky’s features. “Ah…you mean the ex-friend and ex-boyfriend?”

You nodded solemnly, turning your screen so he could see. “I know I shouldn’t even look, but…”

Bucky rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he peered at the happy couple. “You know, we probably ought to have a couple of photos too, just in case. Most couples do, don’t you think? If we’re going to seem convincing, we need to step it up a little.”

Now it was your turn to make a face. “Yeah, but, we aren’t a couple, and my family and friends will see, and-“

“Isn’t that the point?” he interjected, brows raised. “At least for now? I mean, my friends will see it too, but that’s part of what makes it seem real and convincing. Think of us as part of the pitch. We have to sell ourselves to the client, in this case Natasha.”

He did have a point. If someone were to search for either of you on Facebook, they would see that you were single, with zero pictures of each other anywhere. How believable would that possible be?

Natasha wasn’t stupid. She would be able to see right through something that seemed insincere.

“Well, we’re out and about,” you said, shrugging. “We can take some selfies and pictures.”

You stood up and moved around the table until you were sitting beside Bucky. “Café selfie!” You waited for him to smile before taking the picture. “Selfies in one location aren’t going to be convincing enough.”

“We can make this an official work lunch,” Bucky suggested. “Let’s go walk around the city and take some more.”

“Okay.” You didn’t see the harm in it; it was only temporary, and the breakup would be public, too.

It’s just for work.

---

“There’s the fountain over there,” you pointed. The Lincoln Center fountain outside of the Met was one of your favorite places to visit in the city. It was beautiful, and the setting was elegant, and you didn’t really know why, but you never got tired of seeing it. “We can take one there.”

You didn’t even stop to wait for Bucky to catch up as you made your way over to the fountain with a small smile on your face. There were school kids running around, and a young couple sharing a snack, and a large group of tourists taking pictures.

But your eyes never left the water; it sparkled in the sunlight, and gave the whole place a magical feel.

“I never saw anyone so fond of a fountain before,” Bucky said, finally appearing beside you.

You peeled your eyes away to grin at him. “I don’t even understand it. I just…I love it here. This city is amazing.”

He gave you a smile of his own, and for the first time in a while, Bucky looked almost like he did understand.

When he reached for your hand, you felt your face heat up, but you let him pull you along until you were on the other side, facing the Met. There were less people on this side because everyone wanted the tourist shots. “A real New Yorker doesn’t care,” he explained with a chuckle.

He instructed you to have a seat along the edge of the fountain, while he went over to the younger couple and asked them to take a picture.

The guy agreed, standing up and following Bucky over to you. Bucky sat down beside you and threw an arm around you.

“Smile!” the kid said, aiming Bucky’s phone at you.

“One more,” Bucky called.

“Sure!”

To your surprise, right before the next picture was taken, Bucky kissed your temple.

Now you were really mortified, though when you looked at the aftermath, the pictures looked very convincing. You were actually beaming in that second picture.

You looked like a real couple.

He cleared his throat and tucked his phone back in his pocket, seemingly unaffected. What you would give to seem that cool and collected all the time.  “Come on. We can see what’s going on in the theatre district.”

Wordlessly, you stood and followed him, only flinching a little bit when you felt his hand at the small of your back. You’d have to work on that for Saturday, just in case he did that more often.

After a few more stops at iconic locations, you and Bucky begrudgingly headed back to work in a taxi. He held the door open for you, and then let you on the elevator first.

It was like he was a whole different person outside of the office.

You bit your lip, eyeing him carefully while he stared at the flashing numbers above the elevator door. When he realized you were staring, he turned to meet your gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just…” You shook your head, not exactly sure how to phrase what you wanted to tell him.

Bucky’s eyebrow lifted in question.

“I just... when I first started, I heard that you were married to your job, that you didn’t really know how to have fun.”

He nodded twice, then turned back to the door. “I get that a lot.”

Your heart sank at the tone of his voice. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I promise.”

“It’s fine, really.” His expression didn’t give away what he was feeling.

You turned your face forward, too, trying not to make things worse. Just before the number changed to seven, you looked back over at him. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s true. I had fun today.”

Bucky’s blue eyes met yours in surprise, but before he could reply, the elevator doors opened, and you both saw T’Challa standing in the hallway with his arms crossed in front him as if he’d been waiting.

He didn’t look happy.

---

Bucky was pulled away into an emergency planning meeting, but he promised to upload the pictures to Facebook as soon as he could.

After about an hour, you received a friendship request from him on your app, followed by a relationship status update and a tag for every single pic you’d taken today.

Almost immediately, you got a bunch of likes and messages.

Whoa, you look great! Hope you’re safe and happy! (That one was from your mother).

He’s a hottie, where’d you find him? (Your sister couldn’t help but chime in, too).

Your eyes narrowed when you saw that Wanda simply put a smiley face. She was probably loving this right now.

The next notification that popped up was one from Natasha.

You froze when you saw the little message with her name beside it.

She hadn’t interacted with you for so long that you couldn’t believe she’d be reacting now. Then again, with the reunion coming up, maybe she was just happy to see you’d finally moved on. Maybe she thought the two of you could reconnect.

It was all for work. You didn’t move on, though you were working on it.

But Natasha didn’t need to know that.

You decided to distract yourself by looking at Bucky’s Facebook page. He had quite a lot of friends, but very little content. There were a couple of pictures of him with an older couple, probably his parents. There were pictures of him out at bars or work events.

Then there were a couple of older pictures, not on his page but ones he was tagged in, of him and a beautiful woman. His arm was around her, and he looked happy.

For some reason, your heart sank when you saw those. You couldn’t figure out her name, but you could see from the date they’d been uploaded that they were a couple years old. You wondered what happened. Did he love her? Was it serious? Who ended it?

You shook your head. Did it matter?

Throughout the rest of the afternoon until quitting time, you amused yourself by completely avoiding any work and merely watching the notifications on your new pictures on Facebook. Bucky’s friends were commenting now, saying congrats and that it was about time he found someone. This one guy who seemed to be Bucky’s best friend, Steve, commented that he was really happy for him.

You couldn’t stop the cheesy grin on your face when you saw Bucky’s reply.

Thanks, man. I’m really happy, too.

“What are you over there grinning about?”

You snapped your attention to Sam, who’d finally returned from whatever meeting he was in all day. You turned your phone slightly so that he couldn’t see the screen. “Nothing.”

“Uh huh.” He gave you a look, then grabbed his jacket. “So you’re leaving early tomorrow, then?”

You nodded your head. “The boss wants us to leave early, so we’re driving out tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oooh, the boss wants you to do something. Look at you! Big Shot and Golden Boy.” Sam stood in front of you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’d say good luck, but seeing as golden boy has all the luck you need, I’m just gonna say this, instead: I see that moon-eyed look on your face. It ain’t real, Y/N. Don’t convince yourself it is.”

“I- of course not,” you sputtered, frowning up at him. “I know that, Sam. It’s just for work. I am trying to get ahead here, and I’ve actually been learning a lot from him. That’s literally all it is.”

With one more look showing he was completely unconvinced, Sam turned and walked away from you to the exit. “Whatever you say, Y/N. Just don’t come cryin’ to me on Monday, you got it?”

You didn’t reply. Were you really that bad already? Hell, you could have been watching cat videos for all he knew. Sam was just assuming.

But you weren’t, and you knew it. This was dangerous grounds for someone like you, someone with a big heart and the ability to fall too hard, too fast.

What Sam didn’t know was how badly you’d been hurt before. Surely you weren’t about to let someone in that easily again? That was absurd. Bucky had told you to your face that this was all part of the pitch.

You chewed your lip while you tried to convince yourself that you were stronger than that.

Just to take some initiative, you fired off a text to Bucky, telling him you’d see him tomorrow and to have a goodnight.

Bucky was having none of that, though. He texted back almost immediately, protesting your plans, and not long after, he showed up at your desk. “Leaving without me?”

“I figured we had the plans down already,” you replied lamely, looking up at him with a shrug. “Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

The corner of his mouth lifted ever-so-slightly. “Nah. Besides, we have to talk about Natasha, don’t you think?”

Your eyes narrowed almost immediately. This was the part you’d been dreading. “What about her?”

Bucky held his hands up. “Whoa, I just meant that it would help me do the pitch if I knew a little more about her. What is she like, what’s her personality…you know…”

You looked down. “Fine. We can go to my apartment, though, because I’m far too lazy to trek across town from yours, and I have to feed my cat.”

---

When you got home, you opened the door and held it so Bucky could step inside. It was still light out, but the sun was going down, so you walked over to turn on the lamp beside the couch, before moving to shut your blinds. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Bucky stood there in the middle of the living room, hands in his pockets, and looked around. “It’s nice.”

You scoffed, reaching for Mr. Fuzzypants when he came running to you. “It’s not Uptown nice, but it’s home.”

“Uptown isn’t all that exciting,” he said softly, moving over to you. He reached out to pet Mr. Fuzzypants, who started purring almost immediately.

“He likes you,” you told him, a small smirk on your face as you shoved the cat into his arms. You took your shoes off and made your way into the kitchen. “Do you want takeout? Maybe some pizza?”

“That’s fine,” he agreed.

After you ordered, you changed into a t-shirt and pajama pants, no longer caring how you appeared in front of Bucky. If it was all for work, you’d have to start acting like it. You flopped down on the couch beside him.

“So,” you began. “Natasha.”

“Natasha.” Bucky looked at you expectantly. “Our target.”

“What do you want to know?”

He had his iPad at the ready to take notes. “Personality traits.”

“She’s...nice.”

Bucky looked at you with an are-you-serious kind of stare. “You’re gonna have to give me more than that, Y/N.”

“I mean, to be fair, Bucky, I haven’t spoken to the woman in ten years. She could be a housewife with a neighborhood watch god complex by now for all I know.”

That made him chuckle. “Tell me what you do know, then.”

You let out a sigh, adjusting to get more comfortable as your cat made his way to the couch to sit between you and Bucky. “She was popular, gorgeous, sophisticated, basically everything I’m not. You know the drill; hot cheerleader befriends someone much nerdier and uglier to keep up appearances, that sort of thing.”

He rolled his eyes. “All I’m hearing is your astonishing inferiority complex. What else?”

You suddenly found your couch cushion to be very interesting. “She used to say she was going to move to the city one day, and she’d be a big-time executive, and marry someone rich and successful…” You looked up at him, eyes narrowing. “She actually used to be a lot like you, only she never got quite that far.” It kind of irritated you, now that you noticed the similarities.

He didn’t say a word, didn’t even look up but instead kept typing, so you continued.

“By the time senior year rolled around, I was busy trying to plan my future with my boyfriend, and as it turned out, so was she.” It was kind of mortifying to even admit it to Bucky, but he needed to know the truth, especially if he was going to meet them soon.

Bucky stopped typing to look up at you in surprise. “How did you find out?”

“It was right before finals week. I turned Clint down for dates a couple of times so that I could study.” You shrugged your shoulders again. “Natasha didn’t turn him down. After one evening spent studying advanced calculus, I went over to Clint’s house to surprise him. I found her wrapped around him instead.”

“Damn,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, I don’t condone anything they did…but at least they are still together now. At least it meant something in the end.”

“We might be able to use whatever personal guilt she might still be feeling to our advantage here. I mean, not to drag it out anymore than someone should, but it might help us get our inside info, or even a meeting with a higher-up.”

“Yeah.” You looked away, biting your lip. The thought of your sad, sorry past helping your future didn’t seem all that bad until you remembered that you had to, ya know, confront it.

“I get now why you really didn’t want to go to this reunion.” His eyes were full of sympathy, and you hated it. You didn’t want to be pitied.

Luckily, the doorbell rang, and the pizza provided a great distraction.

In between bites, you looked back over at Bucky. “You know, this is a lot of effort for one event. I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Me too,” Bucky replied, running a hand over his face.

Very reassuring, you thought glumly. All hope of getting through this weekend unscathed was slowly disappearing.

“Let’s do another one of those selfies,” he suggested. “You can post this one, since we’re at your apartment.”

“Okay.”

Bucky grabbed your phone, since his arm was longer, and the two of you took another selfie together, which you posted right away. “What should I write for this one?”

“Call it date night.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up. You knew he was trying to make you feel better about the whole Clint thing. “Done.” You uploaded and tagged the picture, smirking as it instantly got attention.

Bucky left about an hour later, bidding you and Mr. Fuzzypants goodnight. “See you tomorrow. Don’t worry, it’s almost over. We’ll have the account in no time.” He flashed a charming smile, then turned and walked down the hallway.

You shut the door behind him, feeling like someone had just doused you in cold water. Man, Bucky was convincing. He was a little too convincing. No wonder he always won the accounts he was after.

You repeated your new mantra in your head as you made your way to your bedroom:

It’s just for work.

---

Part 5

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[donegeonsndragons]

CoS: Session 3 Highlights

Weapons are silvered, information gathered, and a new complication arises.

Premise: with their fortunes and quest in hand, the party sets off to try to find a way out of Barovia, starting off in the Vistani camp

(This is a long one)

Vogal finally gets a moment to ask Bisnek where a blacksmith would be, and Bisnek leads them to a tent attached to a wooden shack

Inside is the blacksmith, who wears a tan apron and a weird hat, and his face is so NPC average that it’s incredibly forgettable

Although reluctant to silver a weapon in the domain of a vampire, with enough money he’s willing to do so

He silvers one of Vogal’s sword, though Vogal doesn’t know whether it actually does anything

When they exit out of the same entrance, they seem to be facing a different direction, and when they go back inside, nothing is there

Even Bisnek doesn’t remember being asked to lead them to a blacksmith, and says that there is no blacksmith

The party is weirded out

Remembering the letter that he found, Vogal brings up that they should probably head to the village of Barovia

Also to clarify, yes, the capital of the land of Barovia is named Barovia

They ask Bisnek to join them, but he has to stay as he now has business as the new chief 

But he does give them a map and directions to head towards the mountain, and they should get into the village

The party heads out in building fog and damp weather towards the mountain

Along the way, they come across some tracks

The varana is able to tell that these belonged to wolves (whether natural or werewolves, he’s not sure) and some humanoids

After a couple of hours of walking, they finally arrive in Barovia, a village made of desolate buildings at the base of a mountain where they can see a castle perched up among the peaks

All of the buildings have boarded up windows, and the only sound is of a woman wailing (and they can’t pinpoint where it’s coming from)

Damakos casts thaumaturgy and starts yelling 

Damakos: HELLO Damakos: ARE YOU OK Damakos: WE’RE FRIENDLY

Nothing happens

The group starts wandering through, seeing if they can find the source of the crying

Vogal stealths and goes with the group, but exploring a bit off to the side

They come across the town square, where a *very* attractive man steps out of the tavern and beckons them over (after telling Damakos to stop yelling, who does)

Heading inside and buying them some wine, he introduces himself as Ismark, the son of the now dead burgomaster of the village of Barovia

He tells them that he knows they’re adventurers, and are probably finding some way out 

He asks for their help in protecting his sister Ireena (the daughter mentioned in the burgomaster’s letter) from Strahd, who has been preying on her

Ismark says that he’d like the party’s help in escorting her away from the town of Barovia to the town of Vallaki, away from Strahd and his residence at Castle Ravenloft (the castle on the mountains)

He also mentions that their “elf friend” said they would be able to do this 

He also confirms that the crying is normal and belongs to “Mad Mary,” who has been weeping since her daughter had disappeared

They head out of the inn and walk a short distance over to the burgomaster’s mansion

The mansion is standing, but there’s clear signs of werewolves and other beings attacking the mansion 

Ismark knocks on the door, and a *very very very* attractive young woman opens the door and introduces herself as Ireena

When the party enters, they see that all of the windows have been shattered and boarded up and that there are holy symbols everywhere (to Buzzlorn’s delight)

Vogal is also able to smell a scent of decay from somewhere within the house

Sitting there is Raynn, who is glad to see them

She says that she took a wrong turn while running in the fog and encountered a few werewolves, including Lincoln (one of the people in Luna); she was knocked out, and she found herself lying in Ismark and Ireena’s residence as Ismark found and rescued her

The party then asks Ireena about Strahd’s visits

Ireena says that she can’t remember anything except for the hunger in his eyes

They’re also able to see that there are two set of bite marks, on each side of her neck

She also says that Strahd sent his minions to the mansion night after night for many months until about 3 days ago, when the burgomaster died

The party asks to look around the house a bit, and Ireena and Ismark leads them around 

The ground floor has nothing noticeable, but the second floor has 3 bedrooms

Ireena and Ismark’s bedrooms are open, but the burgomaster’s bedroom is closed

The party asks about their mother, who Ireena can’t remember but Ismark says died when they were very young

They then ask where the burgomaster is, and both Ireena and Ismark grimace and open the burgomaster’s bedroom door

Lying there, in a simple wooden coffin on the bed, is the burgomaster surrounded by flowers (and this is where the smell of decay is coming from)

Ismark says he hasn’t been able to take his father’s body to the church and bury it because he’s afraid to take Ireena out of the house or leave her alone for too long or too far away

Ireena refuses to go anywhere away outside of Barovia until her father is buried

The party decides to help, though they realize that taking Ireena outside was a risk

Buzzlorn almost convinces Ireena to lie in the coffin as well so that she can hide, and as she lowers herself in she freaks out and can’t do it

Vogal instead uses his disguise kit and makes her look like Mu’s human form 

Buzzlorn then tries to lift the coffin, and crit fails 

He lifts the coffin, his hands slip, and the coffin drops back onto the bed and the body rolls out

He’s absolutely mortified (with the permanent smile carved onto his face) and Ireena and Ismark are absolutely horrified

After they manage to lift the body back into the coffin, the varana, Vogal, and Raynn attempt to all lift the coffin

Raynn, the tiny wood elf, rolls a nat20

She lifts the coffin with one hand and dashes down the stairs as the rest of the party follows her down

They head towards the church, which is on the outskirts of town on the base of the mountains

This church looks like it’s trying to cave in on itself, and it has what looks like half a sun symbol on the front above the door

The party gets very excited, knowing that one of the items that are key for their escape is hidden “behind the sun, in the house of a saint”

They enter the church, where at the end of the church they hear quiet praying coming from the figure there drowned out by screaming coming from below the floorboards 

???: “Father I’m starving” The party: NOPE

Ismark goes to the praying figure and tries to shake the priest out of his prayer to no avail

The varana goes back outside, and with Buzzlorn’s help, investigates the sun symbol

He finds out that nothing could be hidden here, and goes down to report that to the rest of the group

The party sees a trapdoor in the corner, and attempts to open it

The priest immediately notices and stops them, saying that they shouldn’t

He introduces himself as Father Donavich, and that the person in the basement is his son, or at least what used to be his son

He explains that his son Doru went with a group of villagers to try to defeat Strahd about a year ago, and came back a vampire spawn

He managed to trap his son in the basement, and has been praying day and night for a way to save his son without killing him

They ask if he can bury the burgomaster, and he says that he would but he has been distracted by the lamentations of his son and wouldn’t be able to concentrate

He seems to regret this, as he was close to the burgomaster and his children

He actually notices that Ismark is there but apparently not Ireena, and he advises Ismark that he should take Ireena to the Abbey of Saint Markovia or to Vallaki

The party asks if this is the “house of a saint,” and he says that this is the church of the Morninglord Lathander, but the house of a saint may refer to the Abbey of Saint Markovia

Buzzlorn asks if he can do the rites instead, as his god is related to Lathander as they’re both good sun gods

He manages to convince Father Donavich, and the party goes out to help bury the body in the cemetery behind the church

Vogal and Damakos stay inside, and they go to inspect the trapdoor which is covered in chains and locked with a padlock

Vogal turns the lock, inspects it, and it just unlocks under his skillful hand

He tells Damakos that he’ll jump down there and investigate, and to be prepared to shut the door if he has to rush out and escape from whatever is down there

When Vogal climbs down the ladder, he sees a pair of glowing red eyes and immediately nopes out of there

As he scrambles up the ladder, he hears skittering along the wall and ceiling, and the feeling of a hand just about to grab his ankle

He lets out a scream, which alerts the rest of the party and they rush back inside

Vogal has run off to the opposite corner as Damakos slams the door down and keeps it there

However, the force of the vampire spawn below knocks the door open and pushes him to the side, and the figure of an emancipated teenager with glowing red eyes and fangs behind a curled upper lip attacks

Combat start!

The party attempts attacking the vampire spawn and realize that their physical non-magical attacks seem to work but not effectively

In retaliation, the vampire spawn slashes at Damakos and bites into the neck of Vogal, who suffers a lot of damage

Raynn and the varana try finding creative ways of damaging vampires, including trying to see if there’s running water (nope), garlic (nope), or sunlight (nope)

After realizing that holy symbols might work, Raynn attempts to lasso and pull the sun off of the outside of the church 

When that doesn’t work, they ask Father Donavich, and he hands them his personal holy symbol from around his neck 

Meanwhile, Buzzlorn attacks the vampire spawn that has now crawled up onto the wall 

We now learn that wooden constructs with no blood that can wield holy power are the worst enemies of vampires

He manages to bring the vampire spawn to about a quarter of his health with a combination of morning star and divine energy 

As the vampire spawn scrambles away to the middle of the room, the holy symbol is getting tossed around to different party members

Holding it out, they manage to tag team and drive the vampire back into the hole to the basement

They push a pew onto the door and chain and lock the door back up, effectively keeping the vampire spawn under 

The screaming resumes, though now contained and quieter

Father Donavich thanks them, and allows them to keep the holy symbol with them

He gives them brief directions to the Abbey of Saint Markovia, which is down in the valley away from the mountains

Ireena and Ismark, with their last business finished in Barovia, are ready to leave, and the party prepares to head out onto the next leg of their journey