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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years ago

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bloodlust ~ jasper hale;twilight

word count: 1754

request?: yes!

“I’m not sure if you do Twilight, but if so can you please write a Jasper Hale x reader where it’s just him coming to terms with his feelings and trying not to push the reader away just cause they’re human. Thank you no matter what love :))��

description: when she thinks he’s avoiding her because he hates her, he has to tell her his biggest secret

pairing: jasper hale x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of death

masterlist (one, two)

I didn’t understand Bella’s extreme obsession with Edward Cullen after they started dating until Jasper Hale started showing me the same attention.

I had known Jasper since the Cullens moved to Forks. Or rather I knew of Jasper. Much like his adopted siblings, Jasper kept to himself or to the Cullens. It wasn’t until our English teacher paired us together for a project that I finally got to know him.

Despite the whole school knowing that Jasper and Alice were together, I started to notice that the way he looked at me, or the way he treated me, mirrored Edward and Bella’s own romance. And before I knew it, my feelings also mirrored Bella’s.

I felt on top of the world to have the attention of such a beautiful man. I felt unworthy, but at the same time I felt a sense of pride. And overall, I felt strong, romantic feelings for Jasper; feelings I was sure he had for me as well.

Until he started ignoring me suddenly. He wouldn’t talk to me, he changed seats in English class to be further away from me. He wouldn’t even look at me when we were in the same room.

“He hates me,” I said to Jessica as Jasper drifted past me in the lunchroom without acknowledgement once again. “I don’t now why, but that’s the only reason I can think of that he’d be ignoring me.”

“Or Alice has him back on her chain,” Jessica suggested with a shrug.

“He and Alice broke up a while ago, Jess,” Angela pointed out. “Didn’t you know that?”

I laughed as Jessica shook her head. “The great gossip of Forks didn’t know something? Mark the calendar, Angela, this is a historic day.”

Jessica threw her nearly rock hard dinner roll at me.

That evening while I was home alone, a knock came at my front door. Confused, I went to answer. I was shocked to see Jasper stood there, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Jas?” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“I owe you an explanation,” he told me. “Care for a drive?”

I followed him to the flashy sports car he drove, one of very few in all of Forks - the others belonging to his siblings. He held the door open for me as I got in. He was in the driver’s seat and had the car started before I even had my seatbelt on.

Jasper’s driving was way too fast, and he was weaving in and out of the cars too carelessly. I was starting to regret my decision to get in his car. One hand was gripping the passenger door so tightly my knuckles were white. Jasper noticed and chuckled.

“Relax, I drive like this all the time,” he assured me.

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better,” I muttered. Jasper chuckled again, which made me slightly annoyed.

After some time, Jasper pulled up to a hiking trail a short ways out of town. I watched him unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the car. He paused, waiting for me to follow. I was starting to feel panicked and wondered why I had decided to go with him. Why had he brought me out here alone? Why hadn’t I told anyone where I was going before I left home?

We walked in silence for a while. I started falling behind, stumbling over the twigs and rocks. At one point I almost fell, but Jasper was quick to steady me.

“I forgot you can’t walk as quickly as I can,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” I asked, but he had already started walking again.

We came to a clearing where the sun was just peaking through the trees. Jasper paused, looking back at me for a moment. “This is going to look silly for a moment, but know there is something serious underneath it.”

Before I could ask, Jasper stepped into one of the sunny patches. I gasped as his skin lit up like a diamond under light. He looked anywhere but at me, as if afraid to see what my reaction to this was.

I approached him slowly, extending a hand towards him. I poked some exposed skin, wondering if I was about to find out I was dreaming or that Jasper had never been real to begin with. His skin was cold and hard as stone, and I realized in that moment that I had never touched Jasper’s bare skin before.

“What is this?” I asked. “What are you showing me?”

“I heard you talking to Jessica and Angela at lunch today,” he explained, “about whether or not I hated you and if that was why I was avoiding you. But the truth is I was avoiding you for the opposite reason. I don’t hate you, (Y/N). I never could, but I’m dangerous. To you, anyways.”

I stepped back, feeling very uneasy. “What do you mean, Jas?”

“I’m not...human,” he explained. “And I haven’t been for decades. There are many names for what I am, but the most commonly used is vampire.”

I felt like the air had been knocked out of me. I was convinced this was some sort of practical joke on me, but I didn’t think any of the Cullens were capable of doing that.

“Are...are all of you...” I started, trying to find my words.

“We are,” he confirmed. “Carlisle found all of us and changed most of us. There’s a very long history about our family. I won’t go into it now, I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked him.

Jasper stepped out of the light, his skin almost immediately returning to normal. Every logical part of me was telling me not to let Jasper get closer to me, but at the same time I trusted him. I didn’t think he was going to hurt me, I trusted him not to hurt me.

He reached out for me, but hesitated. Against my better judgement, I stepped forward to let him touch me. His hands were cold against the skin on my exposed arms. His golden eyes looked down into mine and I felt myself subconsciously leaning into his body.

“Because I feel something for you that I’ve never felt for anyone besides Alice before,” he told me. “And I know you feel the same way for me. I tried to distance myself for your safety. I’m still new to living with humans as I was the last to join the Cullen’s lifestyle of just feeding from animals, but I realized that was only hurting you more. I needed to tell you so that you could make your own decision about how you felt for me.”

He was right, it was a lot to take in. I had so many questions, but at the mention of Alice I realized there was one outstanding question I needed answered before we went any further.

“What about you and Alice?” I asked. “You two have been together...I guess basically forever. What made you two decide to break up?”

“Alice, Edward and I all have special powers that we developed after we were changed. Edward can read minds, I can feel and manipulate emotions - which is how I know for sure that you feel the same way for me - and Alice can see the future. She saw many visions that included you - most of which included the two of us in a romantic setting. I told her it would never happen because I loved her so much, but she was so sure I’d love you too. She told me to wait until we were paired up for that project and I’d actually get to know you, then I could make that decision.”

I winced. Knowing that Alice saw visions of her boyfriend falling in love with another woman - a human at that - before Jasper even knew I existed made me feel guilty.

“Was she angry?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

Jasper laughed, a beautiful sound that echoed through the otherwise empty woods. “Not at all. If anything, she was excited. She claims that you two are going to be best friends the way she is with Bella, and she’s very excited to have another female in the family. That is...if you’re still willing to be with me with...what you know now.”

I had to admit, the thought of the person I was in love with being a vampire was terrifying. Not because of the needing to drink blood to live - like I said, I trusted Jasper. If his or any of the Cullens’ desire for blood was a risk, they wouldn’t be living amongst humans. But the thought of growing old while Jasper remained the same age forever, of him eventually not wanting to be with me because of that age difference was terrifying. And the alternative...I didn’t want to consider that right now.

I moved closer to Jasper. He moved his hands to my waist, pulling me so that my body was touching his. Our lips were inches away, and I finally leaned in to close the gap between us.

His lips, much like the rest of his body, were cold, but I felt a sensation when kissing him that I had never felt before. I placed a hand against his face, gently stroking his hard skin as our lips moved perfectly together. His grip around my waist tightened a little, but not enough to hurt me. It felt more like he was making sure I wouldn’t disappear on him.

I pulled away first, resting my forehead against his. “I hope that gives you your answer.”

He smiled and I felt a happy sensation wash over me. I remembered he said he could manipulate the emotions of others and I wondered if his happiness was so strong that it was effecting me as well, or if he wanted me to know how happy he felt.

“We should get you home,” he said. “Your parents will probably be worried sick if they come home and you’re missing.”

“You’re right,” I said. I reluctantly pulled him his grasp, but took his hand in mine as we walked back to the car. “But can you not drive like a maniac on the way home? I’d rather not die of a heart attack in your car.”

Jasper chuckled. “No promises. One thing you have to learn about vampires, we love to go fast.”

#jasper hale #jasper hale imagine #jasper hale x reader #jackson rathbone #jackson rathebone imagine #jackson rathbone x reader #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight saga #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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boldlyanxious · 4 years ago

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Incidents of Mistaken Identity

I've had some requests for identity shenanigans from my Mistaken Identity fic. I don't have a lot but wanted to do something.

Absolutely feel free to add your own if you have an idea. Thanks to@ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole for brainstorming with me

Marinette knew the lower floor of the building was open to the public but still she felt a little nervous going in. Once she got there though she realized there was a lot going on and no one would notice her being there.

She looked all around taking it all in. She would stop and sketch here and there but she didn't start in one place too long. She smiled when she made eye contact and somehow that landed her a free coffee. She wasn't going to complain.

Now it was time for her to leave but she had to figure out how to get out. Every direction seemed to have a security check but she hadn't been checked in. She was still trying to figure it out when the elevator dinged loudly startling her. A woman grabbed her arm and started guiding her.

"There you are," she said. "Come on."

Marinette didn't respond; she just took another drink of coffee and braced herself as the elevator moved. She didn't recognize the hallway they walked down. She must have gotten really off track.

She should have questioned sooner. She started to ask after the third turn down a hallway but the woman suddenly stopped and opened a door before pushing Marinette in.

Suddenly she was propelled into a room where at least a dozen people in business attire turned to look at her. She froze. Her guide was already gone after delivering her here. A couple of the business people demanded to know what she was doing there but suddenly one of them laughed.

She looked at him as he approached. He was the same one who came in when she had been kidnapped before.

Apparently this was another case of mistaken identity.

---

Tim hardly looked up at the person dumping their stuff at his table and running off asking if he would watch it while she went to the bathroom. He glanced at the clothes and shoes but she didn't even wait for a response. It wasn't incredibly uncommon, probably less so in Gotham than other places. But he was always willing to help.

He almost forgot by the time she came back it had been a bit. Looked like she had gotten her coffee order before coming back too. She was very talkative as she came back. She moved all her stuff but rather than leaving she sat down across from him. She took a long drink of her coffee and didn't look to find his reaction until she set her cup down.

She jumped back up. The chair typed over behind her.

"Who are you?" she screeched.

Everyone was looking at the spectacle. Tim was a little shocked by the reaction since she had joined him without actually asking. He didn't really decide how to answer before he saw a woman he recognized walk in. She walked up to the table.

"You have got to be kidding me," Marinette said with a rather resigned voice.

Apparently he also caused cases of mistaken identity.

---

Metropolis was so much different from Gotham. The people smiled in the sun. They walked at a leisurely pace along wider sidewalks with brightly colored shops. Marinette hadn't seen one dark scary alley or a gargoyle since arriving.

She was trying to soak up as much of the bright sun as she could before she headed back to Gotham. She turned to look in the little shop she was passing and then checked the time on her phone to see if she had time to look inside. She froze when an arm went over her shoulders and pulled her against a body.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here today," the man said close to her ear.

She pushed against him and turned to see his mouth trying to kiss where her cheek had been. She was filled with rage at the audacity so she punched him right in the mouth.

Her perfect trip to Metropolis was no longer perfect. He pulled his arm back and looked at Marinette as she pulled her hand back. He didn't seem hurt but she felt like she punched a brick wall.

"Oh my gosh. You're not Tim. I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Is your hand okay?"

Somehow even away from Gotham she was suffering from cases of mistaken identity.

Taglist

#maribat #it's always maribat #humor fic #mistaken identity #boldlyanxious #shenanigans

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imherongraystairstrash · 3 years ago

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I’ve been thinking about this for a while, do you think Charles,Barbara, Eugenia and Anna were close? Anna maybe less because she’s closer in age to the merry thieves set and she probably ghosted Charles after the Ariadne engagement. Would you consider a fic of them all growing up, starting with them 4 as little kids and then slowly becoming teens and adults and then dealing with Barbara’s death. I think it would be a fun idea since nobody ever considers them to be a older merry thieves.

You can thank my social anxiety for this one bc I stress wrote it in school 🙃

TW: panic attacks, death

Title: When we were young

Characters: Barbara Lightwood, Anna Lightwood, Eugenia Lightwood, Cecily Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood, Alexander Lightwood, Sophie Lightwood, Gideon Lightwood

Anna was sitting by the fire when Charles came into the room. She hated him. She truly did. But, somehow, at that moment, she felt strange. He looked at her and it took her many years back, to when they weren’t exactly friends, but they were far from what they are now to each other.

…

“And that was how Consul Wentworth fixed the crisis of 1687.” Charles said with a satisfied smile to himself.

The Lightwood girls were his audience. Well, sort of. Eugenia’s cheek was resting on her fist, squishing the right side of her face as her lidded eyes approached shutting completely. Anna was slumped against Eugenia, her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes opened wide, staring at a fixed spot on the floor. Their luminous dark blue glittered in the witchlight, looking exquisitely uncanny. Barbara was mid-yawn, leaning on the leg of a sofa.

“Wow, Charles. Thanks for the history lesson.” Eugenia said, monotonously. It was evident that she’d inherited her mother’s sass from the day she was born, when Barbara had woken her up by exclaiming at the sight of her newborn sister, and Genie responded by pulling her sister’s hair.

“Oh, and in 1690-“

“NO!” All three Lightwood daughters shrieked.

“I’m still not done, though.” Said Charles.

“Yes, you are.” Eugenia said, standing up and settling the matter. “We are positively bored. There is absolutely nothing to do except listen to Charles talk about politics, and if those are the only two options, frankly, I’d rather be bored.”

Charles crossed his arms. “Being an intellect is not boring.”

Little two year old Anna looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

“I swear, Thomas is having a better time than we are,” Eugenia said glaring at to where their parents were, with the tiny, almost invisible baby nestled in Gideon’s arms, his fingers wrapped around Sophie's thumb. The parents were all laughing about something, which made Eugenia scowl even more.

“To be an adult.” Barbara said, with a martyred sigh.

“We needn’t be adults to have fun.” Charles said.

“I suppose you’re going to torture us with more political trivia.”

“No,” Charles said. “I was going to suggest we go through the attic.”

The girls looked up at this and Charles smirked, clearly proud of himself at having come up with a good idea. For once.

“What is in the attic?”

Charles shrugged. “I don’t know, but there’s probably strange and obscure things. There’s a lot of that kind of stuff in our house.”

Barbara and Eugenia exchanged a look before the eldest Lightwood sister turned to him.

“We shall go and discover this mysterious attic you speak of.”

…

“What could this even be?” Barbara said, holding up a loose gear-like contraption.

“Papa sometimes builds things out of clockwork.” Charles said, sitting cross legged. “Or, he used to at least.”

“That’s…”

Genie and Charles looked at Barbara as she trailed off.

“Nevermind, I have no comment.”

Charles nodded as though that was a common reaction people had in terms of his father’s experiments.

They rummaged through boxes upon boxes, finding momentos they didn’t understand such as papers upon papers of things that said many difficult words. They could distinguish a couple of words such as “infernal” and “devices”, however there were many that made no sense to them.

“What is a Mortmain?” Asked Genie.

“I think it’s an undead horse or something along those lines,” said Charles.

“Oh,” said Eugenia. “That’s disgusting.”

“Quite,” agreed Barbara.

Anna was toddling around the room, giggling. She almost tripped over a loose floorboard, and would have, had Charles not reached out and grabbed a hold of the back of her dress.

“This is too dangerous for a small child like Anna,” Barbara said, ever the mother-goose. “I shall take her downstairs before she hurts herself.”

Anna protested at first, but acquiesced once Barbara bribed her with the promise of dessert.

…

“What are you doing here?” Anna asked.

He looked up, his green eyes meeting her blue ones.

…

Charles remembered that day like it was just yesterday.

He and Eugenia had stayed behind rifling through boxes, which wasn’t unwelcome, as Eugenia and Charles had an easy, lighthearted and, at times, profound, friendship. Despite their age gap, they enjoyed each other’s company, though neither could say why. Perhaps, it was simply because they mocked each other. Or perhaps, it was sometimes they would occasionally talk about things such as philosophy, and whether what they were seeing was true, or the world was just a figment of their imaginations. Or a mixture of the two; they’d never really discussed it.

Eugenia surprised him when she said, “do you ever feel… different from your parents?”

Charles furrowed his brows, “in what aspect?”

“Love.”

“Have you a suitor?” Charles inquired, intrigued.

“No. Actually, that was my question. I find that, sometimes, I don’t only enjoy the idea of a male suitor, but perhaps, I also enjoy the company of a woman. Perhaps.” She pressed her lips together tightly, as if forcing herself to stop speaking.

Charles looked at her, his bright green eyes wide. “I-um-…”

“But I’m not sure, of course.” Eugenia blurted out. “It’s not as if shadowhunters are precisely fond of that particular preference or-“

“Do you really think they wouldn’t like it?” Charles asked, softly. “Do you believe they will reject those who are like that?”

Eugenia looked down. “I’m afraid I’m most sure of it.”

Charles had then realized that he couldn’t have both. There was no way around it.

He knew his parents were happy and that love made them complete. However, they didn’t have to choose. They could be married and the idea wouldn’t affect their respective occupations. Charles, on the other hand, couldn’t be Consul and have the kind of love he wanted. He almost resented them because of it. They were able to do what they loved and nobody forced them to pick between one or the other.

It was unfair. So incredibly unfair.

“I guess you better get rid of your feelings towards women than.” He said simply, “unless you’re willing to let something as simple as love get in the way of your dreams.”

“Dreams?” Eugenia asked, looking confused and a tiny bit hurt.

But Charles got up to go back downstairs to his parents, aunts and uncles.

…

Charles slumped down in a chair and dug his fingers into his hair.

“She was just here.” He said quietly. “Babs, was just here.”

Anna felt sudden rage. “You are not allowed to mourn her.”

Charles looked up. “Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I can’t be sad. She was my cousin too. Perhaps not by blood, but she was still a cousin.” He pressed his lips together angrily and stared fixedly at the witchlight stone that was illuminating the room.

Anna, however, couldn’t find it in her to be diplomatic; she got up and left the room.

…

Anna had never seen Eugenia look this way. She was always put together, posh. But now, she looked hollow. Like a shell of who she used to be. Anna wanted to go up to her, to say something, but she felt lost for words. What did you tell someone who lost a dear sister? If Anna felt sorrow, she couldn’t imagine what Eugenia was feeling.

Her head was tilted upwards, looking up at the pyre where the corpse of her sister lay. Tears were streaming down her face, rolling down her cheeks, throat and chest, leaving streaks on her face that looked like the roots of a tree.

Sophie had her arm around her daughter. The sight of the four of them was very strange. There was a gap missing where Barbara should have been. She suddenly felt a hand take hold of her own. She looked to her right and saw her mother looking straight ahead, squeezing her daughter’s hand. Her father was looking down, holding Alex. Her baby brother was one of the few who looked up at the cousin who’d taught him to play simple songs on the piano, and had always let him sleep in her arms on New Year's eve.

She didn’t know what he must have been thinking now, staring up at the pyre.

Though, to be fair, she didn’t quite know what to think herself, as she looked up at the cousin who’s life was cut far too short.

…

Eugenia’s body didn’t feel like her own. She hadn’t felt this body was her own for a while. Even since Augustus and the secret she’d kept to herself.

This was somehow worse. To be torn away from your best friend, whom you’d shared a room with almost your entire life. Eugenia didn’t know how to live in a world without Barbara. Sometimes, in the rare moments when she forgot about her sadness, she’d call her sister’s name, ready to tell her about what had happened in her novel. Or find herself walking to Barbara’s room without thinking and then staring blankly at the door that has remained shut ever since the day she passed away.

A couple of weeks ago, she’d found a letter Barbara had sent her when she’d been in Idris. It was in between her copy of Jane Eyre. She couldn’t bring herself to read it in its entirety, but she stared at the signature blankly.

Suddenly, she got the urge to run. So she ran. That’s how, an hour later, she’d gotten a small tattoo under her ankle that said “Sincerely, your favorite sister Babs.”

It felt right to have Bab’s signature there, we’re only she could see. It made her feel accompanied everywhere she went, even though nobody else could see.

Now, looking up at the pyre, her face tight from tears she’d left to dry, her mother weeping silently, she could almost imagine that her sister was there, simply caught in a slumber and that she’d wake up at any moment and come tumbling down, throwing herself in Eugenia’s arms.

Any moment now, she thought when the pyre burst into flames.

“Ave atque vale, Barbara Lightwood.” The crowd said at once.

Eugenia shook her head and swayed on her feet. Her breathing became heavy and her fingers began prickling. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. No nononono.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, vaguely that it was her father’s.

Not Barbara.

Not Babs.

“Calm down, Genie.”

Not her sister. Her sister couldn’t possibly be up there.

“Breathe Eugenia.”

She wanted to scream that she couldn’t, that she’d never breathe again, as long as her sister wasn’t breathing with her. Why did she have to live? She would have much preferred that Barbara live in her stead.

The world was numb and fractured, never to be fixed again.

…

(Don’t worry, Gideon was able to help Genie after the fic ends bc he’s the best dad)

Tagging: @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @rinadragomir @youngreckless @autumnangel20 @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @ninacarstairss @stxr-thxif @writeforjordelia @icouldnotask @jordeliasupremacy @cordelia-cardale @will-effing-herondale @axoloteca @heronstairs2014 @ilovemanicures @ti-bae-rius @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @readersconfessions812 @nightshade3465 @livvyheronstairs @zemiraa @proudtobealuthor @neurogliadudette @theenchanteddreamer @cheeseandmacarons

If you want to be on my tag list, or if you changed your url recently and your not in the tag list anymore, let me know! Also, if you want to be removed, send me a dm! I won’t be offended in the slightest :) Oh, and if you asked to be on the tag list and you’re not on it, please tell me (I’m very absentminded lol).

#tsc #tlh #eugenia lightwood #barbara lightwood #charles buford fairchild #gabriel lightwood #anna lightwood #cecily lightwood #cecily herondale #tlh fanfic #tlh fanfiction #the last hours #tid #sophie lightwood #gideon lightwood

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dirt-cup-draco · 4 years ago

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Fred x Reader- Ease My Mind

can you do fred weasley & the love language of touch, if that is something that you do?

a/n: he is darling and coming right up <3 ALSO, Important note! I switched phones and forgot to save some of my notes so if you were on my taglist for my fics please send me an ask or dm! I will try to put down those I remember but I may forget a few

Your shoulders tensed immediately as you walked through the doors of the joke shop. The melodic ringing of the bell attached to the brightly colored wooden frame was drowned out by the sound of kids laughing and parents scolding. Fireworks erupted somewhere above as your eye caught a glimmer of ash and magic descending onto the glossy wooden floors.

It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable in the shop. You had long since become used to the jarring noise upon entering and it had stopped bothering you, your social anxieties overcome. Yet you were nearly certain it was because every shelf and sound and smell reminded you of the man you loved most. His heart and his soul emanated from every nook and cranny.

What made the hair on the back of your neck raise and your palms begin to sweat was the look of distress on George’s face as you entered, his attention immediately going to you. His lips were in a thin line, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes more pronounced by the bags that lay just underneath his eyelashes and colored the very tips of his cheeks a dull gray. Your heart was stuck in your chest as he plastered on a grin that was so forced it made your own jaw ache as he dodged past another pleased customer.

“Where is he?” You asked, stomach tied in knots and George shook his head, a guilty look on his face.

“We were stocking this morning and I was goofing off-”

You nearly let out a snort but stopped yourself as you noticed the strained expression on your dearly beloved’s brother’s face.

“-accidentally spooked him and he stumbled down two or three steps on the ladder and the box he was holding came crashing down around him. He’s just barely started going ‘round without his cane and he’s’ frustrated with himself I think and with how the merchandise came down around him...”

George trailed off and you gave him a sympathetic smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand as a group of girls ran around your legs in search for the coveted love potions, one hollering about she would never be as silly as her friends and was only looking out for them. She reminded you of yourself when you had first met the twins.

“Georgie, it’s not your fault,” You promised as he struggled to meet your eyes. You knew from George’s words that it was likely Fred had been forced back into the past and was seeking comfort in the safety of his bedroom in an attempt to ground himself and stay in the present. “I’ll go see him,”

George’s slouched shoulders seemed a bit less heavy with your promise and he gave you a short nod, going to help the lonesome cashier who was overwhelmed with a line wrapping around the place. You gave your near brother in-law a thumbs up and then made your way to the far reaches of the store so you could begin your ascent into the twins’ apartment.

You knew there would be bad days and good days but for Fred’s sake you had hoped that the good would outweigh the bad. At first they had, there was the thrill of finally having no more fear of Voldemort even if his dark forces were still tucked into dark corners. Things had been looking up and everyone was just happy to be alive, yet as the days and weeks flew by it seemed that the horrors of war would be sticking around long after the Dark Lord’s defeat.

The apartment was colder than usual and Fred wasn’t to be found in the kitchen or the sitting area. There was no music playing to fill the silence nor was there a cup of tea in sight. If it wasn’t for the cleanliness of the place you would’ve wondered if it was inhabited.

You forced your foot falls to resonate against the flooring louder than usual to give your longtime boyfriend some warning as to your presence yet you kept your knock gentle as you tapped a melody against his door, hand frozen on the doorknob.

“Fred, love, it’s me,” You called out. “May I come in?”

The shuffling of socked feet paused momentarily and then the doorknob was twisting against your palm and the door was pulled away from you. Fred poked his head out from behind the door and you gave him a bright smile. Even under such circumstances you couldn’t help but be delighted at the sight of him- especially when you saw the stony expression on his face fall away as he locked eyes with you.

“Darling,” He greeted, voice croaky from misuse all afternoon. He looked more tired than George and you realized that the younger twin must have been up caring for Fred all night. You regretted going out with Hermione.

You shouldered your way into the bedroom and took Fred’s hands into yours after he closed the door securely behind you and locked it for peace of mind. You knew he didn’t fear someone coming for him as much as he feared the uncontrollability of an unlocked door. He wasn’t willing to let much into his space and you felt a swell of honor in your chest as you thought about the ease at which he let you in.

“Sit with me?” You asked, squeezing his hands as his eyes searched yours- his frown not yet gone but the grim glaze over his eyes had dropped away and he was trying to relax for you. Fred’s glance broke away and he stared at a spot on the floor, just behind you.

“I don’t want to be still,” He mentioned softly, like the admission made him weak somehow.

“How long have you been pacing?” You had to ask, hands falling away from his to settle on his hips and he shrugged.

“Since before we opened shop,”

“Have you eaten?”

“We can later,”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest as Fred couldn’t meet your eyes. You could tell guilt was chewing away at him and you couldn’t stand to see him struggling so much. If you could take his pain from him you would without a second beat.

“Would you let me go grab you something? Or maybe we could take a walk to that pub you like,” You offered, trying to give him the freedom to choose and think on what he would be most comfortable with yet you hoped he would get something to eat as it might help him relax. Whenever he’d been upset at Hogwarts, locked away in his room, you’d snuck him hand pies and juice and he’d always brightened up considerably.

You pulled away from him then, making a move to get him some tea, biscuits, anything. You were stalled however by his arms wrapping around your waist fiercely and pulling you to his chest with a grip that almost felt like fear. Your hands laid flat against his back and you rubbed with soothing circles as you stayed in the same spot you had been since entering his room.

“Y/N,” He grumbled, pressing his nose against the side of your neck as he took a deep breath. You could feel the sudden pitch in his heartbeat against your own chest as he reminded himself you hadn’t left yet and you were still within his grasp.

“What do you need Freddie?” You coaxed, reaching to tangle your fingers in his hair that had been growing out for some time now. He didn’t trust you or George with cutting it but he hadn’t been too comfortable heading to a salon when all he could see outside the shops were rubble and the clear signs that life still wasn’t back to normal.

“I-” He started but then dropped off for another heavy moment. His voice had cracked and you could feel your top growing damp as he buried his face deeper into the junction between your shoulder and neck.

“Anything,” You promised, pulling him impossibly closer to help shield him from the challenging feelings he had swirling around in his mind.

“M-maybe sitting would be nice, or laying down. Being close helps, just having you near is all I need,” He finally settled on and you took half a step back just to look into his watery eyes. Even when they were shining with tears his eyes were the most beautiful you’d ever seen. It wasn’t so much the color as it was the life that swam behind them. Even in his darkest times Fred Weasley was filled with beauty and life.

“Of course,”

You let Fred take the lead, his hand still clasped tightly with yours as he tugged you over to his bed. You noticed he was favoring his right leg, his cane discarded probably somewhere near the entrance to the apartment. Helping pull the sheets away from the bed you helped Fred settle onto his side. Once you joined him he let out a deep breath that he had been holding in. His arm found it’s place around your waist and he pulled you to his chest as he curled up tighter, smaller. He’d had struggles with claustrophobia yet he was entirely at ease with his head resting over your heart and his legs tangled with yours- barely a paper’s width between you.

You trailed your fingers down his side affectionately, hand rubbing gentle circles against his hip and thigh knowing he was hurting from the way he sighed softly, hot breath fanning against your collarbones. Poor Freddie had been pacing too long and pushing through the pain from his injury.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here this morning,” You apologized softly. Maybe if you’d fallen asleep with him his nightmares wouldn’t have been so vicious and his short fall from the ladder that morning wouldn’t have caused such a severe reaction.

“Don’t be, you’re here now,” Fred put your guilt to rest and snuck his hands under your shirt to rest against the warm expanse of your back. He’d always liked the contact and you were glad that you could help ground him in any small way. Your fingers brushed through his hair and you let your nails lightly scrape against the nape of his neck, a shiver going down his spine as he curled up tighter against you.

You weren’t sure how long you two laid there in silence, hands shifting every so often to pull one another closer or to place an affectionate kiss against a forehead or nose. Your eyes had drifted shut and you weren’t sure if the both of you had drifted off for a moment or if the time was just passing comfortably. Fred’s breathing and heartrate had evened out and you were able to let out a sigh of relief. His hurts were your own and you felt such a deep peace when he was able to come back from the darkness.

“This feels safe,” He admitted into the shared space between you, voice gentle like never before. “Thank you for easing my mind, Y/N”

“Thank you for letting me in,”

Fred smiled against your neck, brushing a kiss against your pulse point. You ruffled his hair and let your eyes fall shut again. Despite Fred’s need to move earlier and the loud memories playing back behind his eyelids he let himself fall into the warm embrace of sleep, nestled against the love of his life.

#mildly brought on by the song by ben platt #fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fluff #love language challenge #anon ask #request #it's currently 8:13am and I haven't slept since the day before so I have coffee coursing through my veins and I'm gonna get some writing #done today dammit

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serenityseventeen · 3 years ago

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Love & Letter: To The Thirteen Boys I've Loved Before

The Seventh Letter

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

To: Jeon Wonwoo

From: Y/N

Hey, Wonwoo.

Now that I think back on us, we were a romance novel with a bittersweet ending. Every moment I spent with you felt like I was drinking a comforting cup of hot chocolate even if it didn't have any additional toppings. Warm. Sweet. Lovely. Temporary. I guess I finished the cup of hot chocolate now, huh?

Maybe one day I'd get a refill.

But for now, I'm satisfied.

I don't know how to exactly explain this. I'm just grateful. I'm also happy. I'm not happy with the breakup of course, because it's sad and I'm heartbroken too. I'm happy with the memories we made. I'm happy that a warm and sweet guy like you loved me. I'm happy that I got to love an understanding and intelligent guy like you.

I think deciding to become an avid reader may have been one of the best choices in my life, even if our love lasted only about a year. My unfortunate love life has taken a toll on this love as well. I know you'll say it wasn't any of our faults that we broke up. Knowing you, you'd probably say something along the lines of, “We couldn't hide our hearts that's why we dated. We can't change time that's why we have to separate. We didn't have a choice.”

You're always positive like this. I know that sometimes you're hurting and I was hoping that maybe one day you'd tell me about everything; everything that hurt, bothered, or annoyed you. You did tell me a few things that cut deep but I knew, each time that you opened up to me, that there was an even deeper cut in your heart that you didn't dare to tell yet.

Wonwoo, you were always a happy kid in my eyes. I think you wanted to show me only your good side even though you acted as if you could tell me everything. You were able to speak up for me when I couldn't and you even put my friends in their place. Thank you for that.

At that time, we weren't even dating, so I was always asking myself, “Why is he defending me?”

You were just this bookworm I met in the town's book club that I signed up for. You were just this guy who always happened to be reading in the local library. So, why were you defending me?

Well, we both know that answer now. It was because you liked me.

You began seeing me almost every day, at the local library, because I wanted to build a good habit of reading books. You looked like a cold nerd, always reading in that same, dark corner, barely lit by the lamp nearby. Sometimes I would just, while picking out a book to read, wonder what book it was that had you so invested.

Did you notice me staring? Or is it because I always took a long time looking for books? You never told me which of the ones were the reason you approached me. Well, I also never asked but by the time the question crossed my mind again, we had already fallen in love and broken up.

When you approached me with a book in your hand, I can still hear the words you said with your deep, calming, and dreamy voice. “Read this one if you're having a hard time. I already finished it.”

If you're reading this letter, you're probably cringing, right? Such a cheesy line for a first actual meeting. Well, I will admit now that it left quite an impression on me and lingered in my mind for a while. I never told you that though because I thought it was embarrassing.

You were really sweet even before we started dating. I was always wondering why you would leave me yogurt when I wasn't looking or become protective of me when I was alone. You always acted as if it wasn't a big deal but I know you were taking hours to head home because you insisted on seeing me off every time.

Wonwoo, when we began dating naturally, I wasn't convinced I was in love with you yet. I'm sorry if it sounds like I deceived you but the reason this letter is being written is because I loved you. Back then, even if you don't know my heart, I want to tell you that I'm sorry for dating you when I wasn't sure of my feelings. Whenever I dated or liked someone, it didn't end up that happily.

That day when I told you outside the library at night about how loving me felt like a curse, when you kissed me that night and reassured me that I wasn't cursed, that's when I truly fell for you. You were willing to accept me even when I talked so much that night about my past and failed relationships. Your lips... breath... It was all so warm that I didn't want to let go of you.

You didn't mind it when I talked about my ex-boyfriends and you understood me well. Even the next days that followed my breakdown, you treated me the same. You treated me like I was yours. When you wanted me to be close, you'd pull me close with my chair and ask if it was okay. When you wanted to hold hands, you wouldn't hesitate to do it in the most natural way possible.

You were also very romantic, I don't know if you think of yourself that way though, Wonwoo. I hope the things you did to me and my reaction also made your heart flutter; because every little thing you did to me made my heart race. It's memorable. I wanted to do the same things but I lacked the confidence. At least I gave you some good laughs though?

I remember, one time, I accidentally forgot my book at home during the book club and there were no extras. No one knew we were dating then and you suddenly took the seat beside me and slyly slid your arm around my waist and hand in mine before you started reading the chapter. You don't know just how much my heartbeat spiked because of that. I'll also be honest here, I didn't remember anything you read out loud and ended up reading the chapter again at home.

I think we got close because of our many conversations. Soon, I grew attached to you in many ways. You were the reliever of my stress, the lover of my nights, and an inspirational reader of my days. I had you to talk to when things were hard. I had you to talk to when I wanted to flirt and have fun. I had you to talk with about books.

What a boyfriend you were, handling so many jobs just for me. Now that we've broken up, I've realized that I was selfish. I used you for myself and though sometimes I did try to try and get rid of your hardships by listening, I found that you were independent. You thought you'd be able to handle it all so you always told me, “Just seeing you is enough.”

I honestly hope you don't think that way. I want you to be like me. Be a little selfish sometimes and allow yourself to use another person to rant. I want you to be able to let out all that stress you're having, whether it's from school, home, or your part-time job. I want you to be confident and continue being positive without having to hide your scars, but please, don't make the mistake of trusting the wrong person.

Remember the day when I called you crying, whining about how I failed an important test? It was probably almost midnight at that time and you were probably sleeping. I don't exactly remember the details but I remember this much.

You woke up, got out of bed, and ran to me. When you saw me crying on the bench beside a lamppost in the park, you immediately hugged me, not saying a word. Do you know how thankful I am for that?

It wasn't even that big of a deal. I was being a baby over something so trivial but you still ran to me. Your warm embrace filled with love... I could never forget that.

I still always think about that day when you came over to my house with the excuse that you wanted to read together. You ‘fell asleep’ on my couch.

I don't know how you knew I was staring at your handsome features but somehow, you knew. I still don't know how. I was just staring at you while thinking, ‘This guy cares for me... he's really nice... Why does he like me?’

It was like you could hear my thoughts. You turned your head to me and opened your eyes gently then pulled my head closer and kissed me. My heart fluttered so much and even thinking of it now gives me butterflies.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to do it without your consent.”

Seriously, which novel did you learn that line from?

I also know that sometimes when you ask me to hug you, it's because you're having a hard time, not because you missed me. Do you think I wouldn't know that? I can just remember how desperate your grasp was and how weak your breath was. I wished that you would tell me about your problems one day.

Even though you didn't end up telling me about your deepest fears and scars, I'm glad that you wanted hugs from me. That means I was at least some sort of comfort, right? I was also comforted when I hugged you, even though you were the one who asked for hugs.

I can't do anything but compliment you in this letter because our relationship did not have any flaws. Truly, we only have happy memories to reminisce. Like that day when you kissed me in the library, between bookshelves, or that day when you made a poem about me and read it out loud, or when you came over to my house and helped me water the plants but ended up getting both of us wet. When I was with you, I only had smiles and it felt like I could forget everything and just live as if there were only the two of us.

Because of you, I could forget about college for a while, I could stop stressing about schoolwork, I could be happy and live in the moment. I hope it was that way for you too. Your cold face when you're not smiling and your sharp eyes are enough to slice someone in half. You need to smile warmly with that beautiful smile of yours. You have a beautiful smile.

Wonwoo, I know you're a strong guy. Even without me, your ‘healer’, I know you'll be fine. Please don't make me the only one who remembers this love story. If I wanted to, I could write a romance novel about us. You, the male protagonist, and me, your love interest. We had so many lovely moments that I just want to keep it all in a book.

Well, it's a shame that we have to end our relationship like this. Maybe the timing is just never right for me. College is in a few months and long-distance relationships would never work for us, that's why I asked for us to break up. I know you and you usually rather act than talk. I'm sad about it but there's nothing I can do. I need to go to college.

I just have a few more things to say to you in this long letter.

Wonwoo, sometimes you would be straightforward but sometimes your words and actions would be implicit. Sometimes, even though you were my boyfriend, I would find myself failing to understand you. Everyone is complex but you may be the most mysterious man I fell in love with.

What was I to you?

Was I like a warm cup of hot cocoa?

Or a blanket to give you warmth throughout the nights?

To me, you were warmth, reassurance, love, and like the seasons.

You taught me life lessons while being my partner.

Even if sometimes you seem like a stranger, I don't regret it. I think you must've had a hard time but I'm sorry I couldn't do much to help you. Now that we're over, I'm just happy about what we had.

The fact that we loved each other is enough.

Yours truly,

Y/N

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

6/24/21 - 11:42 am

a/n: My baby brother and parents came back so I spent a lot of time with family and didn't get to finish this. + SVT appearing on so many western shows/channels makes me so happy... I'm just happier these days :)

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spider-pxrkers · 4 years ago

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i'm all yours || bucky barnes x reader

summary: y/n pulls bucky in for a late night slow-dance to try and comfort him from his nightmares, all while he struggles to accept whether he deserves to be loved.

a/n: these past few weeks have consisted of me falling so hard for bucky barnes i decided to emit everything into one angsty fic lmao enjoy

warnings: fluff, angsty, swear words, bucky needing like a million hugs.

masterlist || add yourself to my taglist!

i do not own any gifs used. all credits go to the original creator.

A light breeze blew through the kitchen window of the tower. The room was dim lit, the soft stream of the full moon’s light through the large glass panes were enough for Bucky to get around the room. He moved his arm to wipe the thin coat of sweat covering his face before reaching down into the fridge, his metal fingers wrapping around a cool bottle of water before he brought it to his lips, walking to slump down on a bar stool.

His shoulders still shook as his eyes shut, his face finding its way into his hands as he sighed.

His nightmares.

His fucking nightmares again.

It was like there was someone out there who made it their mission to make sure he never forgot what he’d done when he was in Hydra.

Not that he ever could.

Most days he’d be fine. He would go by quiet as usual around the tower, making light conversation with whomever was willing to talk to him. Missions would go by well and if it was a particularly good day, he’d actually catch himself cracking jokes during group conversations amongst the team.

Other days he’d close his eyes and the faces of innocent men and women he’d killed would flood in, haunting him. His anxiety would take over and he’d lock himself in his room, refusing to talk to anybody. His nightmares would leave him days without sleep, making him grow not only more irritable but it would feed into his guilt even more, causing a wave of insecurity to wash over him again.

Today was one of those days.

His breath was shaky as he reached down into his pocket, pulling out his phone knowing what he needed to do. He swiped to unlock it, fingers tapping to play that one song you’d told him you thought he’d like. His lips turned at the memory.

You had insisted on it about a hundred times, jokingly going on about how it was ‘old’ and it would fit right up his alley. He was unsure at first, but there was something about the way your eyes lit up that day when he agreed to give it shot and reached for the earphone you held out to him that made him realize the last thing he’d want to do is hurt you in anyway.

Turns out, he actually liked the song. It wasn’t too quick like a lot of the songs on the radio these days, but it wasn’t too slow either. The song had a good balance in rythym, something he found comfort in.

Bucky closed his eyes again as he lightly dropped the phone back on the counter, music softly echoing through the speakers. He took those deep breaths Romanoff had told him about to calm him down before hearing light footsteps to his right.

He lifted his head from his hands, tilting his face to the side to see you walk in. A gentle breeze circulated the room, lightly kissing your skin and lifting your hair slightly before it settled back into its usual position to frame around your face. He was in awe of you. A smile reached your lips as you moved to press a switch, a faint yellow light flickering on above the kitchen. It wasn’t too dull that one couldn’t see, but not bright enough to disturb the almost tranquil atmosphere in the room.

“What are you doing up so late?” Your voice was quiet and gentle as you walked to sit on the stool beside him. The simple action alone made his chest flutter as he shifted to face you better. You had that power over him, a power you didn’t even know you possessed. Your ability to make his heart stop with the simplest of smiles fell into one of the million reasons he adored you.

One of the million reasons he’d never act on it either.

It scared him. After years of Hydra hammering the shit they did into his head he was convinced the world would never get better, could never get better. That was until he met you. Somehow, you’d wormed your way into getting him involved in conversation and recovery. Yet, every time you neared the brink of getting him to open up, he’d spiral back into pit of guilt and grief, refusing to pull you into that part of his life no matter how many times you’d beg him to let you be there for him.

His eyes glazed over at your question, shaking his head at you. Your lips turned upwards into a faint smile and he almost cringed at the pity in your eyes. He hated that about you. He hated how much you felt for him. How you’d always seek out to see how he was doing, how much you’d sympathize with him no matter what he did. The way you’d defend him in front of Stark and the way you refused to end a conversation unless he’d smile.

It was also one of the million reasons why he loved you.

“Tiny Dancer, huh?” He looked back up at you again to see you gesturing to his phone. He couldn’t help but chuckle at you beaming beside him, your eyes twinkling as you sat basking in the fact he actually liked the song you told him about.

“Y’ were right doll-” his voice came out hoarse, causing him to cough. He looked up to see if you noticed and his face fell as he saw it again, that pity in your eyes. The same pity he hated seeing on you mainly because he knew it only came out for him. He hated how you worried about him and now, there was no hiding the fact his voice was hoarse because of his screaming from the nightmares before. He almost wanted to walk right out of the kitchen then and there, but when you rested your hand on his knee his heart grew and he cleared his throat continuing. “It’s a good song.” He whispered. He wasn’t lying, the song reminded him of you, and how could that not be good?

That same smile returned to your face once more, but it wasn’t the same as before. It felt like a mask to cover your eyes that currently scanned his face, judging him for scaring so easily and acting like a fucking child who couldn't sleep because of his stupid nightmares. But he knew that wasn’t true, no matter how much he tried to convince himself of it.

You never judged Bucky, you were never scared of him like so many people were. You managed to see through his torture and abuse and slowly started uncovering the real him. And that’s why Bucky always felt at ease around you, there was no doubt about it. You had a way of understanding things he had no clue about.

He liked knowing you cared.

You chewed on your lip for a bit as the first verse of the song ended. His eyes were back onto his barely touched water. Your heart broke at the sight of the man in front of you. His broad shoulders were slumped on the stool, dark bags under his blue eyes. You wanted to hold him, trap him in the warmest embrace and wash away any negative thought in his head. You wanted to storm Hydra’s base and find anyone and everyone who was responsible for breaking the man beside you. Instead, another more practical idea struck you.

You grabbed his phone earning an eyebrow raise from him. You stood up, putting the song a little louder to fill the room even more before your fingers wrapped around his hand, tugging him to stand up with you.

“Where are we going?” he asked, letting you lead him to middle of the large kitchen.

You had a large grin spread over your face as you laughed a little. “We’re going to dance.” You told him while you moved both his arms to wrap around your waist.

He quickly shook his head before pulling away from you and taking a step back and chuckling humorlessly. “I don’t think so doll.” Years ago, he never would have passed up the opportunity to dance with someone as beautiful as you. But now, he knew the only reason you were doing this was to cheer him up, to distract him.

And he wasn’t worth that.

A frown flickered across your face. “Why not?”

He eyed you, a pang of guilt hitting him at seeing your frown. Still, he shook his head, shrugging.

You cleared you frown, your gaze meeting his as you reached for him again. “Come on, just one dance.”

He wanted to rush to you, hold you and even kiss you for being so loving, so patient towards him for years. Someone like you, so bright so happy, didn’t belong with someone as broken as he was. The two of you played this song and dance for years of mild flirting and mutual pining. But his side always hurt more because he knew no matter how much he wanted to, he could never make you happy the way you deserved, and that would never change.

So why did the sight of you two feet away make him want to throw those morals out the window and instead hold you all night?

He sighed, allowing you to guide him. This time, you moved his right arm to your hip and he didn’t resist as you interlocked your hands.

His eyes closed in bliss at the feeling of your warm hand resting in his metal one.

“‘m probably gonna step on you, you know.” He tried to joke, the sound of his deep voice over the song making you smile again. He looked down at you, pleased at your reaction. The two of you began swaying, slow dancing to the song.

He couldn’t help but brush your hands with his thumb, allowing you to pull him closer. His eyes never left yours before you leaned against his shoulder, softly singing out the lyrics. “When I say softly, slowly.”

He rested his chin on top of your head, joining you. “Hold me closer, tiny dancer.”

“Count the headlights on the highway.” You couldn’t help the laugh that broke through your singing. You continued the song, trying to push away the laughter, but it just made you grow even louder and he swore you were the one who put the sun in the sky. Bucky looked down at you, an amused twinkle in his eyes as he grinned at you, pulling you even closer to his chest, your frame shaking in chuckles.

Bucky couldn’t stop the feeling in his heart as he felt you smile against his chest. He moved the hand that was on your hip to the back of your head, his hand resting in your hair, holding you against him. He never imagined he’d have something like this. Something so warm, so full of solace. He was convinced there was no good left for him after Hydra and because of that, he pushed you away.

But you. God, you were so persistent. So determined to be there for him. And no matter how much he tried to project his rejection towards you, he knows how dependent he is on you. How much he craved your words after a hard day, how easily you could break his heart with a smile. He was starved for your touch but refused to ever ask, afraid of getting too attached.

But now, with you in his arms, it’s evident how much he’s fallen for you, no matter how much he’ll deny it. It began hitting him slowly, then all at once and he couldn’t stop the words from falling out of his mouth.

“Doll,” he murmured after your laughter resided and you hummed in response. “You know I’m all yours right?”

You tilted your head away from his chest, the two of you remaining in your close proximity. “Are you?” You whispered. “You push me away every time I get close.”

His mouth parted as his blue eyes flickered between yours, his hand grasping tighter around yours as you lightly swayed. He shut his mouth, shaking his head, not knowing what to say.

All you did was take a deep breath, leaning up to press your lips against his cheek before pulling back. “You deserve to be loved Bucky. No matter how much you try to deny it.”

He shook his head, a sad smile finding his face. “You can’t love me. You shouldn’t.”

“Yeah then how come I do?” He looked back down at you, not realizing how close you’d leaned in, your face a few mere inches from his. “And before you try to say anything, I know you love me too.” Your thumb rubbed circles on the knuckles of his metal hand.

Your voice was soft and gentle, your words sending him as he shook his head at you once again. “I’ve hurt people, doll.” He whispered. “I’ve killed and stolen, I’ve even-“

“And none of it was your fault.” He felt his breath stop at your words, the words he’d been longing to hear ever since he got out of that Hydra base. The same words which if it was out of anyone else’s mouth wouldn’t have meant a thing. But here you were, right in front of him and for a moment the thought of letting you in didn’t seem so bad. “You are not what Hydra made you.” You murmured, your hand leaving his shoulder and instead stroking the light stubble on his chin, making his breath hitch in his throat.

His eyes immediately closed at your touch. “Then what am I?”

You thought for a moment, looking him up and down before a smirk settled on your face. “You’re my tiny dancer.”

His eyes crinkled as they opened in laughter at your dumb joke. You grinned at him before he finally leaned down, trapping your lips against his.

The two of you stopped your dance, his right hand moving to pull you closer by the waist while his metal hand squeezed yours. Your lips moved against each other’s, divulging in years of desperation and pining into one gentle soft kiss. You stayed that way for a while, your head eventually tilting to deepen the kiss while his right hand cupped your face.

After some time, he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours as you opened your eyes and watched his smile.

“I’m so fucking in love with you.” He breathed out, voice raw as his breath mixed with yours while he rubbed small circles in the corner of your mouth.

“I know you are.” You pushed your head back onto his chest, hiding your smile as you tugged him to go back to dancing with you. “You’re gonna be okay.” You mumbled.

His smile faltered before he caught his breath, pressing his lips to your head. “If you say so, doll.”

“If you say so.”

Permanent Taglist:

@lovewolfspirit @averyfosterthoughts @mylittle-peach @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #winter soldier #captain america #mcu #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #captain america tws #civil war #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

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Golden Days of Yore

It all happened much quicker than Emma was entirely prepared for. A string of words, and a sprint out of the throne room, and Killian’s hand was impossibly warm in hers, twisting through side streets of Camelot with a battalion of guards on their collective heels. That was to be expected, she supposed. Refusing a proposal wasn’t particularly diplomatic, after all.

----- Rating: Teen with kissing and magic and sword fights Word Count: 7K AN: Today’s festive prompt comes from @strangestarlighttree and is “I wasn’t planning on asking you, but it appeared to me that life is short. Will you marry me?” This took several iterations to finally happen and owes most of its existence to @shireness-says who was like “you really like Pirates of the Caribbean.” She’s right, I do. So, most of this is shamelessly stolen from that scene in At Worlds End.

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam.

-----

“You have got to stop doing the face thing.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Killian did not, in fact, stop doing the face thing. If anything, his expression only grew more pointed, lips thinning and eyes turning appraising, and Emma supposed that was an understandable reaction to the last seventy-two hours or so, but those same seventy-two hours had been just as stressful for her and—

It was snowing.

All things considered, that seemed entirely unfair.

“What does the face thing entail, exactly?” Waving a hand through the barely-there space between them, Emma refused to acknowledge whatever fluttered in the pit of her stomach. At the continued arch of his one eyebrow, and the way his lips quirked up ever so slightly, which only made it all too obvious how her eyes kept lingering on his mouth, but that also might have been the crux of her problem, and she was seriously considering strangling His Majesty King Arthur of Camelot.

On principle, or something.

“You’re doing it now,” Emma sneered, voice rising on every letter. “Can’t you tell?” “What my face is doing at this very moment? ‘Fraid I might have a few other things on my mind.”

Yanking his sword out of its scabbard felt slightly over the top, even when the soft whoosh of metal was oddly comforting, although Emma’s mind was quick to point out that also might have just been him and them and all those collective and vaguely possessive pronouns made the shouts chasing after them a little less intimidating. Still, admittedly a bit problematic, but—

None of this was supposed to happen.

Everyone knew. Everyone had always known. Watched them grow up together, less-than-covert glances in the throne room, and more time spent together than was entirely appropriate, but no one had ever told them to stop and Emma was fairly certain she wouldn’t have listened anyway. And by now, most kingdoms had simply accepted the inevitably of it all, willing to ally with Misthaven in a different sort of way, but Arthur was something of a noted ass and almost too self-important. Killian’s shoulders had gone very straight when it happened.

“Oh, you think you’re very clever,” Emma grumbled, letting him twist and turn her until she was flush against his side.

“I think I’m rather fantastic at making you blush, actually.” “Overconfidence does not become you.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Killian argued, tapping a free finger on Emma’s warmer-than-usual cheek, and the snow was getting stronger. Heavier, maybe. Specifics could not have mattered less. They had to get out of that kingdom. “C’mon, let’s—” Yanking on her arm nearly pulled the stupid thing out of its socket, Emma’s objection falling on deaf and determined ears while they darted down a different street. “This looks good, right?”

“If you get us lost,” she warned, “I’m going to be very frustrated.”

“That’s what will frustrate you most? Of all the things? My sense of direction?”

“Do you smell that?” Grimacing, Emma could see every one of Killian’s teeth, and it smelled like stale ale and sailors in desperate need of a bar of soap, and somehow, like hay. “What if we stole some horses?” she suggested. “Just for fun.” He kissed the top of her hair. More than once — almost like he was making sure she was still there, and that had never really been up for debate, but Emma could not stop thinking about the state of his shoulders, and the amount of tension in them couldn’t have been healthy. “Why did we even agree to come to this God forsaken place at all?”

“Diplomacy, or something. And Liam didn’t want to sail, for what it’s worth.”

Huffing, Killian’s gaze kept darting back over his shoulder. The guards were getting closer. Louder, even. More shout-prone. “Few gold pieces, at least,” he grumbled, and that time it was Emma’s laugh that was a little out of place. “Although our vaunted captain would be rather put-out if we did steal horses. Nowhere to store them on-board.” “Ah, yeah, that’s a good point, actually.”

“Do you think we still get paid despite all of that desired diplomacy almost spectacularly blowing up in all our faces?” “Ok, nothing blew up, that’s—” “—A technicality, I’m sure.” Not sticking her tongue out was not the victory Emma wanted it to be. “Wasn’t a possibility.” “Rather atrocious liar, m’dear.” A victory likely couldn’t count as a victory when it ended as suddenly as that one did. Cold air stung Emma’s tongue as soon as it snuck between her teeth, Killian’s expression turning knowing and a hint more confident and he kept shaking his sword. So the snow wouldn’t stick.

Liam really had not wanted to sail in the winter.

“Reasonable, though,” Killian added, shoulder bumping Emma’s while she tried to turn and somehow keep moving and the arm around her waist was even better than all those pronouns from before. Noticeably warmer, too.

He was always ridiculously warm. Like her own personal—

That was dramatic. Overly so, honestly. And no matter how straight his shoulders might have gone, Killian had never actually done anything. Not yet, at least. Said a few things; whispered them in Emma’s ear when they ducked into that one corner that no one ever seemed to glance towards in that one hall that was often abandoned in the castle, or as soon as Emma’s arms circled his neck the moment his feet returned to solid land, and that second thing had been happening more often, but she knew it was only because her parents trusted him, and Liam was a rather fantastic captain and the Jewel of the Realm was the pride of Misthaven’s naval force.

Separations were better with reunions like theirs. And he was exceptionally good at kissing her. Specifically. On the edge of the dock, or anywhere else.

“My father might challenge Arthur to a duel,” Emma muttered, trying to catch her breath. Easier said than done at the moment, more footsteps and cries that sounded suspiciously battle in nature. Fighting their way out of Camelot had not really been part of the plan.

Tightening his arm, Killian spun Emma again — her back colliding with the nearest wall, and that didn’t do much to help the state of her lungs, but she assumed that was simply a product of everything else and Killian’s eyes were almost soft when she let her head loll to the side.

“He might have to get in line.” “Sounding awfully confident in your sword skills.” Scoffing made his shoulders shift, and the few strands of hair that fell across his forehead moved. As if they knew exactly what that did to Emma, and her magic, and the overall state of her heart. All of them threatening to combust there, in a dingy Camelot alley. “You know,” Killian drawled, “I’d never really understood the expression to see red until I was standing in that throne room, listening to some bastard king try to marry you off to his nephew.”

“I was worried my magic was going to actually cause an earthquake.”

Emma wasn’t sure when, exactly, Killian’s hand had found hers again — only that his fingers tightened and his thumb started tracing the edge of her wrist and both of those things were more than enough to calm her unsteady pulse. Magic, too. It had always worked like that. With them. There had always been a them.

“Mmhm, I could tell. Rather noticeable when the ends of your hair glow, you realize?” “What was that about being a bastard?” “Orphan,” Killian amended, “if you’d like to get technical. Born into something almost resembling honor, and married parents.”

Her head was already dangerously close to resting on her own shoulder, so Emma knew her neck couldn’t take much more of this particular angle, but she also could not have cared less and the hitch in Killian’s voice made her whole body ache. “Arthur’s an idiot. This was...none of this was supposed to happen, it was supposed to be trade routes and opening up business with Camelot’s grain producers and—” Emma sighed, blinking back tears that would do nothing to help the situation. “Mordred had horrible hair.”

Something, something, like her own personal sun.

Turning his head slower than she entirely appreciated, the force of Killian’s answering smile was enough to root Emma the ground. Magic roared in her ears, some kind of emotion-based symphony because everyone had always told her that magic relied on emotion and most of hers had always been centered around the man currently staring at her like she was the center of the known universe.

It had always worked like that. With them.

“That’s what made all the difference, huh?” Emma shrugged. “I wouldn’t say all the difference, but it was certainly a factor.” “Naturally, and what else does the crown princess look for when choosing a suitor.? Aside from hair length and—” He narrowed his eyes, leaning close enough that his nose nearly brushed Emma’s cheek. She wished it would. She almost forgot they needed to keep running. “I’m assuming a lack of well-tailored clothing.” “Gods, right? Like he was wearing a burlap sack.” “Not very becoming for a royal.” “Or anyone,” Emma corrected, tugging lightly on the front of a uniform with more medals on it than she remembered. “Nothing was ever going to happen, you know that?”

“The hair really was a rather fantastic clue.” “I’m serious.” Another head kiss. Fingers that grazed the edge of Emma’s jaw, threatening to card through strands of hair that weren’t as greasy as Mordered’s, but were growing increasingly damp the longer they stood stock-still in a snow storm. He nosed at her cheek.

She tried very hard not to fall over.

“I know,” Killian promised, something just on the edge of his voice that Emma couldn’t name. Part regret, and something almost akin to disappointment or desperation and that last one likely had something to do with the shouting. Growing loud again, despite their imperfect hiding spot, and of all the things she could have done, pushing up on her toes, slinging an arm over one of his shoulders and kissing the ever living daylights out of him probably wasn’t one of her better ideas.

Even after sailing to Camelot in the winter.

Still, it only took, by Emma’s admittedly shaky count, about three seconds for Killian to respond. Enthusiastically.

Pulling Emma closer, she was never entirely sure who made what noise. Only that one of them might have gasped, and the other certainly groaned, her hips canting up and his hand flat against the small of her back, panted breaths coming between lips that moved much quicker than usual. As if they realized they were pressed for time, and anxious to use all of it — to prove something, possibly.

Snow continued to fall on both of them, covering Killian’s shoulders and clinging to the ends of Emma’s hair, some of which had also started to shimmer just a bit. It cast shadows around them, bits of light stretching across the cobblestone street and splaying across Killian’s chest when Emma leaned back because oxygen appeared to still be a basic human necessity, despite her efforts to prove otherwise.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have run out of the throne room,” she mumbled, mostly into Killian’s mouth. Moving away from his mouth appeared to be impossible in the moment.

He kissed the bridge of her nose, that time.

“I believe, love, that you were the only one who sprinted out of the throne room, I—” “—Oh no, there was no sprinting!” “There was, I watched it happen.” “In this gown?” Emma argued, another wave of her hand and she figured she had an excuse to stare at Killian’s lips now. More so than usual, at least. “Explain the logistics of that to me, please.”

Opening his mouth, Killian’s jaw snapped shut before he could respond with what was undoubtedly the realm’s snarkiest answer — both of their gazes darting towards a brand-new voice. Who sounded suspiciously like Arthur’s captain of the guard, and Emma had only met Lancelot a few times, but he always seemed fairly nice. She was starting to reexamine that position.

“Your Highness,” Lancelot called, rounding the corner and his sword was drawn too. “Stop this. Just—” His eyebrows lifted when he took in the scene, and Emma could only imagine the state her hair was in. Killian’s hand didn’t move. Tightened, maybe — on the back of her gown, which really was much too long to sprint in. “You need to come back to the palace, Your Highness. His Majesty is willing to overlook all of this if—” “—I marry his nephew?” Lancelot didn’t respond. Didn’t really have to, not when he was suddenly flanked by half a dozen more uniforms and obviously sharp swords.

Emma exhaled. “I think I’ve made it rather clear how I feel about that, don’t you, Sir Knight?”

“It’s a good match, Your Highness.” “And I’m sure you’d really like to believe that, but—” Shrugging continued to be the easiest reaction. Aside from the kissing. Which was always easy. And good. Really good. Their overall talent at kissing each other had to count for several things, Emma was sure. “—I’m afraid I’ve got to tell you that your king is,” Emma hissed in a breath, only a little worried about the state of Killian’s shoulders and his grip on her dress, “an idiot.”

He snickered. Honest to all the Gods Emma could name, and a few other she couldn’t. Directly in her ear, chest shaking with the effort and Lancelot’s eyes understandably bugged when Killian kissed the side of Emma’s neck.

Not particularly diplomatic. “Might have just squandered away your payment, Lieutenant,” she muttered, dimly aware of Lancelot’s orders and the limited number of escape routes in this alley.

“Ah, it might have been worth it. Did I mention I love you, today?” “I don’t believe so, no.” “Foolish. Shall we start running again?” Using Killian’s shoulder as leverage, he only grunted slightly when Emma jumped up. But then his arm was curled around her waist again, and her feet weren’t touching the ground and—

She nodded.

“Might be in our best interest.”

Smacking a kiss to his cheek on her way back towards the ground, Emma’s feet barely made contact before they were moving, darting around confused passerbys and a handful of interested guards who were immediately reprimanded for not stopping the prisoner, which—

“I’m a prisoner now,” Emma mused, “that’s interesting, I’ve never been that before.” “Keep moving, and we might be able to avoid that.” “Oh, promises promises.”

“Am I still doing the face thing, then?”

Making an undignified sound in the back of her throat, Emma nodded as obnoxiously as she was able, fully expecting the tip of Killian’s tongue to find the corner of his mouth. Somehow, the stupid thing still managed to be distracting, but then tilted lips rather quickly became a smirk, and something far closer to teasing than their current situation should have allowed and his sword moved far quicker than she was entirely ready for.

Steel hit steel, directly above Emma’s head — those same eyes that had been so content to linger on wholly out-of-place flirt-type expressions widening before she could properly school her features, and Killian had actually had the gall to laugh. Soft, and slightly under his breath, but the noise was still there and the fluttering in Emma’s stomach was starting to inch up her throat. If her cloak got ruined by these snowflakes, she really would do something drastic to Arthur.

Who, it appeared, had sent a rather large battalion after them.

That might not have been the right word, honestly. Caring about proper vocabulary seemed to be a waste of time in the midst of what may very well be a declaration of war, or at least open hostilities, and that did not really match up with the season, or the reasoning behind their initial visit, but that initial visit was apparently a rather enormous rouse and—

“Yes, but,” Killian grunted, pushing on Emma’s shoulder and he didn’t need to. Ducking on her own, she flipped her palms up, warmth buzzing under her skin and through any number of veins in either one of her arms, and the nearest Camelot guard dropped. Almost immediately.

She grinned.

HIs eyebrow practically disappeared into his hairline.

“But,” Emma echoed.

“Simply telling me that I’m doing something doesn’t exactly describe what I’m doing and—ah, bloody hell.” Grinning even wider, she sidestepped another swipe of his sword, the ends of her now snow-stained gown twisting around her ankles, and there were more of them. Guards continued to pour across the drawbridge in front of the castle, and that castle wasn’t much more than a blot on the horizon anymore, but Emma could still see the flags fluttering from the tops of several dozen spires, the minimal sunlight glinting off metal and stone and neither one of those things felt particularly fair either. Nothing about that castle deserved gleaming spires, or well-maintained flags, and it took about twelve seconds of increasing frustration for Emma’s magic to noticeably shift.

Into something far closer to frustration, and possibly even anger and the guard in front of Killian gasped. Once the sword hilt he was holding started to burn his hand.

“Impressive trick, Your Highness,” Killian said. Another chuckle. A more potent smirk. Flirting in the middle of attack likely wasn’t one of their better ideas, either.

Even though—well, one time they’d snuck out of the castle, to try and learn the constellations, which at the time had felt very romantic and entirely swoon-worthy, but then Emma had fallen asleep, and Killian had fallen asleep and she’s still not sure she’s ever seen her father more upset.

It had created a bit of a scandal.

Sleeping, not her father’s anger. Which might get a run for its memorable money once learned about everything that had happened in Camelot.

Marriage proposals were supposed to be run by him first, after all. Or so she’d imagine. Even antiquated as that particular notion was.

“Flatter me with just a hint more honesty next time, Lieutenant,” Emma muttered, and there was likely no important reason for his hand to be as warm as it was. Lacing his fingers through hers, Killian’s eyes noticeably brightened, tugging lightly on Emma’s arm and they weren’t exactly running, anymore — couldn’t, what with the state of her increasingly heavy skirts and the state of the road, and both of them slipped more than once as they dashed towards the docks, footsteps echoing behind them.

“I’ll see what I can do about that in the future,” Killian laughed. Skidding across the makeshift gangplank, Emma nearly collided with his back the moment they got back on deck, met almost instantaneously by Captain Liam Jones. And the hands that appeared cemented to his hips.

“Overstuffed mother hen,” Killian mumbled. Or at least tried. It didn’t really work — and part of Emma wondered if that was simply because she was more attuned to him and his voice, and several other things she couldn’t begin to consider in the moment, but she was admittedly also a little distracted by the muscle jumping in Liam’s temple.

“Have a few opinions you’d like to voice a bit louder, Lieutenant?” Liam asked archly, and that particular use of Killian’s title wasn’t quite as fun. Scrunching her nose, Emma tried very hard to disappear into the background, but that background also included more guards and more swords and—“Weigh anchor,” Liam shouted, command lacing every letter, “get those sails ready, I want us gone as—”

Cutting himself off the way he did, didn’t do much to inspire any confidence in their ability to escape, and it was entirely possible Emma was the greatest and most consistent idiot in this entire comedy of errors. There wasn’t any wind. No moving tide, or any of the other sailing-type factors she didn’t entirely understand, but knew were a requirement for actually leaving Camelot.

They needed to leave Camelot.

Her refusal of Mordred hadn’t been particularly kind. Included quite a lot of cursing, actually. She hoped that part of the story didn’t make it back to her mother.

Keeping her eyes trained on her feet only made it more obvious when Liam nearly stepped on them, light reflecting off the top of his boots and eventually she’d have to thank him. For not mentioning the location of Killian’s hand. Or it’s equally cement-like tendencies. To her. Killian kept touching her. “Might need some help, ma’am.”

“I’ve never altered the course of the winds,” Emma argued, and she didn’t have to look up. Could hear Liam’s eyebrows lift, an unspoken challenge she’d absolutely rise up to meet because she was nothing if not impossibly stubborn.

Killian kissed the top of her hair again. In front of his brother. So, things were rather dire, it seemed. “Fine, fine,” Emma sighed, barely flinching when someone kicked the gangplank into the harbor. Water crested the deck railing, her neck finally willing to participate in the conversation again — and that wasn’t the good thing it should have been, more than a handful of Camelot uniforms somehow also standing on deck, with brandished swords and nearly-identical sneers that only served to frustrate her even more, and the first flutter of magic at the back of her brain made Killian’s fingers twitch.

Liam’s eyebrows didn’t move.

“Scale of one to ten…” “A forty-seven,” Killian sighed, all but shoving Emma that time. One side of his hip bumped hers, wrist and arm moving in the kind of tandem she would have been impressed by if she weren’t still a little frustrated, and preoccupied with their collective kissing talent. “If not more, I—” Kicking his leg out, the Camelot guard cursed when he landed on his back, lifting both hands in surrender as soon as Killian pointed his sword at the man’s chest. “—Hadn’t ever heard some of the words she used when Arthur started talking about a solstice wedding.” “Solstice,” Liam echoed in disbelief. “But that’s—” “—Two weeks,” Emma finished, keeping a grip on Killian’s left elbow. For stability, because they didn’t have the tide, but they did have oars and a sliver of space between the Jewel and its dock, and also because touching him made everything else easier. Magic, belief, a slew of increasingly sentimental and dramatic thoughts, and she should have told him she loved him back. “Apparently he thought if we wrapped it up quickly, it would be easier. And there would be decorations, some swill about fresh starts and turns of the calendar, I think.” “Used those exact words, did he?” “Any wonder I ran out of there as quickly as I did?”

“Gods, what an idiot. Killian didn’t challenge him to a duel, did he?”

Blushing continued to be one of Emma’s more ridiculous bodily reactions, particularly when it came with that grin on Killian’s face and he didn’t look away from her when he moved his sword. Behind his back, blocking a cowardly attack at his shoulder blades and Emma regretted the amount of oxygen she exhaled as soon as it was gone from her lungs.

Which appeared to be dissolving in her chest.

The latest attacker tripped over the other man, still lying prostrate at Killian’s feet. So, the whole thing had devolved into farce rather quickly.

“Wasn’t really enough time,” she admitted, Liam’s ensuing nod not quite as official when he was also chuckling at her.

“Where do you think your vocabulary took such a turn, princess?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Must have spent time with some especially shady characters,” Killian said, turning his arm so he could pull Emma away from another uniform. That one looked like he was holding cuffs. “Need you to get behind me, love.”

“Are you kidding me?” “Did I sound like I was kidding?” All three of them were going to suffer from headaches, sooner or later. Liam’s eyes threatened to get stuck in the back of his head — Emma not sure if he was reacting to her or his brother, or them together, and it didn’t matter because he was already taking the stairs back to the helm. “A man tried to stab you in the back,” Emma yelled, gesturing wildly and she imagined that only made it easier for Killian to walk her towards those same stairs. She didn’t trip.

Probably unimportant, as well.

“I’m failing to see the point. Walk, Swan.”

Swords continued to clatter around them, more than a few grunts and especially creative curses, and Killian’s eyes only slightly moved when Emma stared at him. In what she hoped looked like unspoken victory, and she couldn’t declare victory before they were out of this realm, but she’d really hadn’t ever done that before and— “Duck,” she cried, not at all surprised when Killian followed instructions. Without question.

His fingers curled around her waist when he moved, Lancelot freezing where he stood and he stood much closer to both of them than Emma appreciated. Another pair of cuffs hung from his left hand, eyes threatening to take up most of the space on his face while his pupils darted left and right. His lips were still parted, as if he were getting ready to say something else, but no sound came out and Emma’s next exhale had a distinctly unhinged edge to it.

“Bloody genius,” Killian murmured, kissing exactly where his lips landed. Against Emma’s stomach.

And for as frozen as Lancelot was, and as overwhelmed as Emma was starting to get, the rest of the ship did not appear to get that particular command. Wood splintered as men were tossed into boxes of cargo, sails barely moving in the minimal breeze they’d been afforded, and Killian only just pulled Emma out of the path of an oncoming uniform before that same uniform rushed up the stairs, lifted his sword and started fighting Liam. Which might have been the worst mistake any of them had made yet.

Huffing, Killian mumbled something that sounded like never hear the end of it against Emma’s temple, but she barely heard it. Was too focused on gripping the front of his jacket, and closing her eyes, trying to focus magic that had always been a little unruly and occasionally almost terrifying and several strands of hair immediately hit her cheeks.

“I need you to talk,” Emma said, and that wasn’t quite the order her last words had been, but Killian responded all the same. After kissing the edge of her mouth.

Words flowed out of him — as easy as anything, promising and guaranteeing, and quite some time was paid to Emma’s vast library of curses, but then the tone shifted and she wasn’t even sure she’d recognize it if she hadn’t been desperate for it. Low and a little gruffer than usual, like his throat was tightening around the feeling, and maybe even around her, and the glow wasn’t contained to the ends of her hair anymore. It hung from the bend of her elbow, wrapped around either one of her ankles and inched up the curve of Killian’s left calf. Wrapped around both of them, like some barrier of magic and—

“What if we got married?”

Brows soaring, Killian’s jaw tightened enough that Emma was briefly worried for the state of his teeth, but she heard the soft pop of his lips when they parted and she was still staring at his lips, so it was easy to notice the exact moment they tilted up.

Into a smile. Of the sun-type variety.

“I know this isn’t the best time, and this wasn't part of the plan, but...well, we are under attack and if we die, then—”

Liam groaned. "We're not going to die. Honestly."

"Something about the brevity of life, then," Emma lifted a shoulder, still gripping the front of Killian’s jacket. That likely made it easier for him to wrap his fingers around her wrists, lift her hands and kiss the bend of her knuckles. Not melting right there was also a rather impressive victory. “It’s not an answer, really,” she muttered. “Still, I...uh—” “—You really don’t know?” Her heart skipped a beat. Multiple beats, if the state of her body was any indication and Emma didn’t remember deciding to breathe out of her mouth. Probably ruined the moment. Although the battle didn’t help much, either.

“It does prove you’re not a snoop, darling. So, I suppose that’s a boon to my confidence for the future of this entire relationship.”

Her eyes were going to fall out. Directly on the deck, where they would roll around, and inevitably get stepped on, and Emma still could not bring herself to blink. Missing any of the next fourteen seconds of conversation was an impossibility. “You really don’t know,” Killian repeated, sounding more awed that time and— “Say words!” The goddamn tip of his goddamn tongue moved back to the corner of his goddamn mouth, and that would not have been an issue if Lancelot wasn’t frozen a few feet away and Liam wasn’t grunting with almost startling regularity and Emma didn’t think before she pulled on the hilt of Killian’s sword. He let go.

Of the sword, at least. Keeping a hold on her, Emma’s skirts were a fabric disaster, flying up and sailing out and she just managed to get the blade up in time. Her arm shook under the force of the sword swinging above her, but she also wasn’t currently being stabbed, and Killian was laughing, the ass, and the nearest Camelot guard looked appropriately scandalized. When Killian ducked down, grabbed the handle of the tiny dagger hidden in Emma’s boot, and threw it.

Directly into that same guard’s right thigh.

“There’s a box hidden in the back corner of my drawers,” Killian said, glancing up at Emma with another wholly obnoxious and equally attractive smile. “Has been for quite some time.” “No.” “No?” “No,” she echoed. “That’s—but I...is that why you were so upset?” “Well, anyone proposing to you, person I love more than just about anyone in the world—” “—Hey,” Liam called, but Emma’s hands had minds of their own and he was admittedly fairly busy. Killian pulled her up to the next step. Away from the man currently bleeding all over the deck.

That did distract from the romance of it all.

“So,” Killian continued, “it could have been anyone, and I would have been furious. But, as you say, this wasn’t supposed to happen, and I’ve been carting this ring around for months and—” “—Months,” Emma yelped.

“More than I’d like to admit to. It’s a very good ring, though. Deserved the proper moment.” “You think that’s now?” “I think I’d like to marry you very much, and would be willing to cause a cross-realm incident if I were allowed to do that.” Whatever fluttered between Emma’s ribs wasn’t the magic she was used to. Was stronger, and brighter and somehow more true than either one of those things. She pushed back up on her toes, ignoring the ache in her calves and the snow-induced shiver, fingers pushing into Killian’s hair once she was close enough and— “Liam!”

Killian blinked. More than once. Leaned back in understandable confusion, and tried to make sure Emma didn’t inadvertently stab him in the process. “Not now,” he yelled back, sounding a decade younger and only passably annoyed that Emma and Killian were interrupting him. “Unless this about the magic and the wind and getting the hell out of here.” “Could be, if you stop being a prat.” Laughing into the crook of Emma’s neck, Killian’s smile was still obvious. And warm. Lighting something more metaphorical in the center of Emma, until goosebumps rippled on her skin and magic rushed up her spine and Liam’s whole head rolled when he met her gaze. “We’d like to get married now, Captain Jones.” “Now?” Liam balked. “Honestly, right now?” “Could help, don’t you think? Can’t marry somehow else if I’m already married.” Liam didn’t look convinced. Two more guards advanced on him — and they must have been jumping from the deck now, because the gangplank was nowhere near the surface of the water and Emma might have giggled. In anticipation, or something equally romantic.

“I think it’s the smartest thing we’ve ever done,” Killian said, a string of curses pouring out of Liam. Emma would have to remember some of them.

“Of course you do. Alright, I just—ah, hold on.” Disarming the closest man didn’t take much time, but it did allow a few more people to rush towards Killian and Lancelot was starting to thaw. Emma turned, pressing her back against Killian’s and trying to focus on the heat and the magic and the snow stopped for a moment. To make way for a burst of chilled wind, billowing the sails above them. “Do you,” Liam started, another sharp inhale as he draped himself over the helm, “Her Royal Highness Princess Emma of Misthaven, take Lieutenant Killian Jones to—” An elbow hit her side when Killian brandished his sword again, her palms flipping back up to let magic ripple out and the next wave wasn’t as choppy as it should have been. Directed them, maybe. Into open water and away from the dock, and four men were rather suddenly lifted up by the magically-created wind and thrown, without much ceremony, off the ship.

“What color’s the stone?” Emma asked.

Killian’s head dropped. Onto hers. “Blue.” “Oh, you’re a romantic, you know that?” “Only when it concerns you.”

Clearing his throat didn’t do much to recapture their attention, but Liam’s expression had turned decidedly captain and only slightly humorous. Most of his hair was plastered to his forehead, now. “Can I keep going, then?” “By your leave, Captain,” Killian muttered. Emma threw a few more men back onto land.

“To be your lawfully wedded husband,” Liam finished. Turning the wheel, he waited for Emma’s response, but she didn’t respond quickly enough and—“That’s your line, Princess.” Killian kissed her cheek.

Only Lancelot was left on deck.

“Oh, yes, yes, I do. Enthusiastically!”

Barking out a few more orders, Liam directed the Jewel away from the rest of Camelot’s nearby fleet, and none of those ships had fired on them, so at least Arthur had something resembling sense. “And do you, Lieutenant Killian Jones, take—” “—Absolutely,” Killian interrupted, drawing the ire of his brother and his captain and the absolute devotion of Emma, crown princess of Misthaven. “I love you,” he added, “more than I knew I could.”

Wind whipped around them, Emma closing her eyes to let the words soak into her, settle under her skin and take root in the very center of her soul. She barely heard whatever Liam said next, the crew quick to respond anyway and she wasn’t all that surprised by the feel of Killian’s thumb under her chin.

“Once more,” Emma whispered.

Maybe not just the sun. Maybe a whole constellation, or a brand-new universe and there weren't really that many worthwhile trade options with Camelot anyway.

“I love you,” Killian said, loud enough that Emma could hear. No one else. Not when there was enough wind to nearly knock them over, and the kind of magic that rang out around them, dots of color hanging in the air when she tilted her head up, pulled him down and, once again, kissed the ever living daylights out of him.

To which Killian had absolutely no argument whatsoever.

“I love you too,” Emma whispered, only pulling away when Lancelot’s knees collided with the deck. “Sir Knight, have you met my husband yet?” Liam groaned. “I didn’t say man and wife yet!” “Worst officiant we could have gotten,” Killian muttered into Emma’s hair. “Say that again, though.” “Husband?”

She’d think about the exact look on his face for far longer than she’d ever be willing to admit. Although the rest of her life did have a very good ring to it, and Lancelot hardly made any noise when Emma blinked him back to land.

“Man and wife,” Liam shouted, “I now pronounce you man and wife. May it save us from many longing looks in the future.”

Emma tilted her head. “Were you longing, Lieutenant?” “Ardently,” Killian confirmed, pulling her hand up to kiss her knuckles again and she liked to imagine he meant to land where he did. Exactly where a ring would sit. “C’mon, Liam can take care of the rest.”

They didn’t bother double checking.

And the ring wasn’t just blue, was gorgeous and perfect and no one knocked on the door to Killian’s cabin all night, which she’d have to thank Liam for eventually because Ruby was already standing at the edge of the docks when the Jewel arrived in Misthaven a week and a half later.

“Good news travels fast,” she said, bypassing any greeting. “Your ears are red, Lieutenant.” “Ruby, I—” Emma started, but that only got her a brusque head shake and crossed arms and the magic in her veins didn’t really ebb, but it might have shifted slightly. Into defense, and wholly rational reasoning, and Ruby’s lips twisted.

When her eyes fell to Emma’s left hand. “Let’s go. They’re waiting.” Taking longer than it should have to get to the throne room, Emma knew Liam trailed behind her and Killian, more than ready to take responsibility for his part in the realm’s most ridiculous royal wedding, and she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Not when the last twelve days had felt like another person’s life, far too much smiling and far less secret kissing, and they kissed constantly. Much to the chagrin of Liam, but Emma thought she noticed him smiling a bit more too and—

The doors creaked, both of them opening in front of them and her parents were sitting on their thrones.

With crowns. “Ah damn,” Emma breathed, Kllian's fingers tightening where they were twisted around hers.

Narrowing his eyes, her father didn’t look quite as angry as she expected. Possibly a little wary, like he was still trying to decide what to say, or how to say it, but then there was a clack of heels on marble and arms around Emma and Killian didn’t have a chance to extradite himself. From Her Majesty Queen Snow’s vice-like grip on the pair of them.

“Oh, congratulations,” she said, blinking back tears and Emma was breathing out of her mouth again. The hand Ruby moved didn’t do much to block the overall volume of her laugh.

Liam looked very close to passing out.

“Wha—what?” Emma stammered, and her mother’s smile widened.

“We’ve decided Arthur is a—” She glanced back at Emma’s father. “What was the word we used?” “Cad,” he replied, both Jones brothers sounding like they were choking on their tongues. “An absolute cad, who deserves everything he gets after this and—” Taking a step forward, Killian stood up straighter, Emma’s chin jutting out. “Stand down Lieutenant,” her father advised, “I’m not going to reprimand you.” “Much,” Ruby corrected. “Well, yes, much. Because, well—you did ask, didn’t you?”

Emma wasn’t just going to pass out. She must have been dreaming. Coming up with and forcing herself into some fantasy she’d imagined since she was fourteen, and that was the only explanation for the way Killian’s medals glistened.

“Aye, your majesty,” he said, “I did.” “When?” Emma demanded, ignoring whatever sound Ruby was making. “That’s—before we went to Camelot?”

Her father nodded. “Well before, we were starting to wonder if he’d forgotten.” “And while you obviously don’t need our permission to get married,” Emma’s mother added, “tradition’s harder to shake than we might like and...well, Lieutenant Jones followed it all to the letter. Now, what do we think about the solstice?” “What about it?” “Emma, darling, you can get married on a boat—” “—Ship,” Liam and Killian corrected in tandem.

Her mother scrunched her nose. “Yes, yes, ship. But that pesky tradition does suggest we should have some sort of ball, and your father was rather disappointed he was robbed the chance to walk you down the aisle.”

Sighing was easier when her mouth was hanging open. In decidedly unprincess-like fashion, but Emma assumed most princesses didn’t get married on a ship with a sword in her hand, and her father’s arms were tight when she all but threw herself into his chest.

“Solstice,” she echoed, “sounds perfect.”

Also one her mother took as a challenge. Between dress fittings, and menu decisions, music approvals and trying to find shoes that didn’t threaten to break half of Emma’s toes, that one corner in that one hallway was becoming her favorite place. The same one she found herself in less than twenty-four hours before she was supposed to walk down that aisle, and she’d have to fix her hair before she returned to her rooms.

Most of it was rather mussed.

“Do you think weddings will become something of a solstice tradition for us?” Emma asked, trailing her finger across the collar of Killian’s shirt. He shivered.

“Could be worse.” “Could it?” “You could lose a sword fighting challenge.” “Sounds suspiciously like you’re challenging me to a duel.” Kissing her was almost a legitimate distraction, and the grand hall downstairs was already lined with ivy and holly and enough candles to cause a rather large inferno. It was the most beautiful thing Emma had ever seen. “Confident in my skills, that’s why,” Killian said. He was smiling.

Emma didn’t bother to double check. “But,” he added, “I’d marry you as many times as I could.” “Twice is probably enough, honestly.” “Ah that’s good, if I have to try on any more outfits, I might do something unbecoming of my new station.” Laughing, Emma buried her face against hIm — tried to breathe him in, and it was impossible to be nervous when they’d already done this, but she might have been as greedy as she was stubborn and she didn’t anticipate sleeping much that night. “Although,” he added, “heard rumors that your dress is rather lovely.” “That’s the adjective they used?” “What would you suggest?” “Incredible. Gorgeous. Steal your breath, scandalize several dozen nobles when we inevitably kiss too long at the end of the ceremony.” “I’m looking forward to that part.” “Are you?” Emma whispered, still not nervous, but possibly a little hopeful and Killian didn’t need much convincing to prove his point. They continued to be absolutely excellent at kissing.

Each other, specifically. “And to having my breath stolen,” he said, “Meet you at the end of the aisle, aye?” Emma nodded. “Deal.”

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #cs fic #festive fic a thon 2k20 #all the sword fights!#MORE SWRD FIGHTS

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the-currian · 4 years ago

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Finally emptied my askbox!

Well, to be more accurate, I finished all my requests. The askbox ate the original ask, so shoutout to the anon who wanted Hisoka angst!

“I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Hisoka x Reader

It was insidious.

At first your curiosity was small. Harmless. When you heard the up-and-coming Mankai Company was having an act-off against the famed God Troupe, you knew that you had to catch both their performances. God Troupe’s performance was flashy and impactful as always, and while the leads of Mankai had a subtle flair of their own, it was one of their supporting cast members that truly caught your eye. You were captivated by his unique stage presence. He appeared confident and secure in his acting but underneath it all you could sense a hint of sadness that drew you in further.

To your shock and utter delight, he plays one of the leads in his sub-troupe’s next play.

“Hisoka…” you whisper to yourself as you trace the actor’s name on the flyer you received.

His gaze pierced straight through your heart, leading you to make an impulsive decision. Quickly scrounging up what leftover funds you had for the month, you resolve to attend all of their performances.

Watching Hisoka act night after night onstage makes your heart bleed for this man that you hadn’t even officially met. Again, you resonate with the melancholic aura that he gives off. It’s silly, really – the most interaction you’ve had with him was at the end of each play when the actors went to the lobby to personally thank and see their patrons off, yet there was just something so hauntingly beautiful about the man, and before you knew it you were drawn in deep.

You wanted to know more.

Days pass after the play’s closing night and you feel as if you’re in a drought – deprived of your favorite muse.

‘Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I should just keep this admiration as a fan, after all.’

Trying to lift up your spirits, you visit a newly opened cat café. As you walk through the doors, a paw-shaped bell gently chimes and a smile blooms on your face. Immediately, you are comforted by the mellow atmosphere that the establishment exudes. While you take your time to observe the café, a white Japanese bobtail cat walks up to you and gently nuzzles your leg, trying to grab your attention. You slowly squat down to pet the feline and it purrs at your touch.

“Welcome.” a familiar voice greets you sleepily.

Looking up, you yelp in surprise and fall onto your bum at the realization that the worker in front of you is Hisoka. Unperturbed, the fluffy cat you were petting moves over to plop down into your lap.

“Marshmallow.” Hisoka chides lightly, picking up the fur ball and cradling it in his arms. “You’re not supposed to play with the customers until they’ve gotten a table.”

The cat mewls lowly in response, and your heartbeat quickens at the affectionate smile that spreads on Hisoka’s face.

“I’m surprised that Marshmallow has taken a liking to you so easily.” He mumbles, shooting you a curious glance. “Anyway, please follow me to sign a waiver for playing with the cats.”

You quickly read through the document and sign the paper without fuss. Hisoka looks over it and nods before leading you to a table low enough for you to interact with the cats but still kneel comfortably.

Somehow, amidst your internal freak-out, you manage to address Hisoka, “Do you have any recommendations?”

His eyes immediately light up and you find his giddiness to be infectious as he lists several suggestions. “The hot chocolate with marshmallow crème is good. So is the s’mores cupcake – they put a giant toasted marshmallow on top. Oh, but the chocolate marshmallow mousse is also one of our best-sellers…”

You stifle a laugh and scratch the ears of the fluffy white cat in your lap. “I take it that you’re the one that named Marshmallow, then?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I get carried away again? The manager says I need to work on that. Something about how not all people would want to eat marshmallows when they’re here, which is ridiculous.” Hisoka mutters the last sentence under his breath, but you still manage to catch what he says and find it quite endearing paired with the pout on his face.

“It’s fine. Those all sound amazing, and I’m going to be here awhile, so I’ll have those three that you mentioned.” You say with what you hope is a reassuring smile.

“Okay. I’ll be back with your marshmallows soon.” He quirks a shy smile before heading back to the kitchen with your order.

Once he’s out of sight you let out a huge sigh, grabbing at your chest, willing your heartbeat to slow down. As if sensing your distress, Marshmallow meows loudly and rubs his head against your hand.

“Alright, alright.” You murmur in a placating tone and obligingly scratch behind Marshmallow’s ears. He makes a satisfied chirping noise in response. Minutes pass by as you absentmindedly pet the cat while you take in the café’s ambience.

Hisoka returns with a serving tray full of marshmallow treats as promised, and your mouth waters as he sets them on the table. You turn your gaze away from the table to thank Hisoka but find that he is also transfixed on your food. A pout appears on his face and the gaze in his eyes as he regards the marshmallows is almost longing.

Mustering up your courage, you ask, “Um… would you like to join me? I kinda just realized that this is way too much for me to finish by myself…”

Hisoka’s gaze locks onto yours, his expression the liveliest you’ve ever seen off stage. “You sure?”

Brain short-circuiting over how adorable he looks, you only barely manage to nod back.

“Hold on.” Hisoka says, rushing off to the kitchen with an unnatural speed. Before you can really process the interaction, he’s already back at your table and kneeling opposite from you. “My manager said I can take a break for a short while since there’s not too many customers right now. Thanks for sharing your marshmallows…” he trails off. Realizing you forgot to introduce yourself, you immediately do so.

He softly smiles in return. “My name is Hisoka Mikage.”

“Ah, I have to confess that I already knew that.” You laugh nervously. His eyes narrow at you in suspicion, and you honestly don’t blame him. However, the dangerous aura he suddenly exudes has you recoiling a bit. “I, uh… I’ve seen you act before in the Mankai Company.”

His demeanor relaxes ever so slightly at your explanation, but you can tell he’s still on edge.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that I’m a big fan of your acting and I can’t really believe that I’m seeing you outside of your show runs.”

Still, Hisoka remains silent, staring at you coolly from across the table. Wordlessly, you slide over the chocolate marshmallow mousse to his side as a sort of placating gesture. Hisoka’s eyes narrow even further, squinting at the dessert as if it had personally offended him.

“Is this a bribe?

“…Is it working?”

Hisoka puts a spoonful of the mousse into his mouth and hums thoughtfully as he takes his time to savor the flavor. Seconds pass agonizingly slow before he simply nods at you.

“Apology accepted.”

You feel as if a huge weight is lifted off of your shoulders.

From that day forward you get to know more about Hisoka Mikage, rather than Hisoka the Winter Troupe member of Mankai Company who you so ardently idolized.

And so what if you still idolized him for that? It’s not like it took away from the real affection you had for him as a friend.

‘Only as a friend.’ You think to yourself glumly.

You were thankful for his friendship, really. After that day you two officially met, you frequented the café quite often. In return, Hisoka would set aside his break time for whenever you stopped by. Your relationship had gotten close enough that he felt comfortable resting his head in your lap. You always teased him for this, calling him a “cuddle monster that can only be satiated by naps and marshmallows”. Hisoka has no qualms with this and completely accepts his role.

However, despite the progress you’ve made, you could sense that there’s a barrier he always had up. You could tell that he was trying but there were times that Hisoka would get a faraway look in his eyes as the two of you lazed about. It was during these moments that you felt so close but still so far from him.

One day, he decides that the two of you should hang out at a beach – which is frankly quite ridiculous given the season. Within the first few minutes of arriving, Hisoka remains silent, so you decide to tell him as such.

“So… what’s the reason for taking to me to the beach on this cold winter day?” you joke, trying to lighten the heavy aura Hisoka exudes.

His eyes suddenly snap over to yours as if broken out of a reverie. Just as you’re about to let it be – Hisoka gets into these moods at times, after all – he replies.

“This beach is a place I’ve only shared with my troupe members; it’s a significant place to who I was – to who I am. You’ve become an…” he pauses, mulling over his words carefully. “…important person to me. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about you that makes me feel safe. But–“

Filled with a surge of affection at his words, you blurt out, “Would you like to maybe make this official?”

Hisoka stares at you incomprehensively.

‘Hell, I’ve gotten this far already.’ You think to yourself, thoroughly embarrassed, but determined. ‘I may as well let it all out.’

“I’m sorry if I’m coming on too strong, but this has been on my mind for a long while. Ever since we met at the café – maybe even long before that, when I first saw your acting,” You give him a watery smile. “I was so intrigued by you. I always felt like there was something that just drew me to you. You can’t believe how ecstatic I was that we were able to become friends. But lately, it just hasn’t been enough for me. I’m sorry. I’ve fallen for you.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, scared to see his reaction.

“I love you, Hisoka. If you’ll have me, I’d like the chance to make you happy as your friend, but even more so as your partner.”

Seconds tick by, your anxiety skyrocketing in the silence, when Hisoka’s words strike straight through your heart.

“I can’t.”

“…Oh.” Your voice cracks, tears welling up in your eyes at his rejection. “I see. I totally get it. Don’t worry, you don’t have to be obligated or anything because of my feelings. I’m sorry – “

“Wait.” Hisoka cuts you off then makes a frustrated noise. “It’s not you, I promise.” He grabs your arm causing you to freeze in place, preventing you from making your escape. “It’s not fair to you. I know it isn’t, but…”

“But?” you prompt.

“I don’t know if I can trust you.” Hisoka mumbles, head bowed low, unable to look you in the eye. “…and it kills me.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“There are things that I’m still trying to figure out for myself – things I’m still trying to figure about myself. To drag you into it would be selfish of me. You don’t deserve that.”

“And if I said I didn’t care?” you sob. “What if I told you that I want to help you through it?”

Hisoka makes a pained expression at your words, letting go of your arm as if he was burned. He returns back to his shell that you so desperately tried to pull him out of. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. This is my burden to bear… I’m sorry.”

And just like that, he walks away.

The next day you go to the café where you first met. You pet Marshmallow when he comes over to you as you take a seat at your usual spot, but Hisoka never shows up.

#a3!#a3 #a3! fanfic #hisoka mikage #hisoka x reader #a3! hisoka #a3game #a3! scenarios #director make us queue

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shuturxface · 5 years ago

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Quarantine has, completely out of no where, compelled me to re-read The Life and Times. I finished three days ago and yes I’m still crying. BUT! to get my emotions out I wrote something of a “review”. It’s really just my thoughts about everything. No one asked but I’m posting it anyway.

Please enjoy, it’s below. Be warned, there are *spoilers*:

Thoughts and Musings:

I don’t particularly know why I’ve been so affected by The Life and Times this go around. I’ve always loved it, but I don’t think I’ve ever cried when Alice Griffiths (now Longbottom) tells Lily that she’s spontaneously marrying Frank Longbottom. And I also don’t think that I’ve ever felt more than fondness towards Marlene Price and Adam Mckinnon. And, I’ve always disliked Carlotta Meloni (especially during the summer and 7thyear), but I never actually hated her character. All until now. The first time I read The Life and Times, I really, really enjoyed it and appreciated the characters and the plot and the realism– like, come on, of course they’re not going to make out in the middle of an escape! However, I was, admittedly, disappointed with the lack of James/Lily action. Not that it was scarce, there certainly was a lot! But this time around, I finally realized why Jewels wrote it in that way. Lily disliked James – possibly resented him – for five years, and more strongly much more recently (I expect her unsavory opinions of him were most prominent during 5thyear, what with his excessive exclamations of “go on a date with me, Evans”). Of course, it’s going to take more than a few weeks to erase that! And it’s not like it could take less time, because, realistically, why would Lily want to spend that much more time with James if she wasn’t fond of him, and if they kept fighting. Honestly, their development as friends is much more interesting, and it shows an in-depth thought processes of fleshing out the characters. I am thoroughly moved by the fact that it doesn’t happen over-night or within a few days.

I’ve also read complaints about how James Potter is acting disinterested in Lily. To them I say: did you even read the goddamnstory?! Did you pass over the parts where he watches her when she’s not looking, and the parts where he is upset with himself for how strongly he feels about her?! If James Potter is anything, he is not an idiot (however idiotic he may act sometimes). From what the (actual HP) books show, James was interested in Lily and kept asking her out in their 5thyear. If I recall correctly, it was implied that he may have done so years prior. It is also stated, by Sirius Black, that they got together in 7thyear. Once again, that transformation from enemies to lovers is not going to happen overnight, and is definitely not going to happen if James Potter kept overtly obsessing over her in 6thyear. Also (!) there is a perfectly reasonable explanation Jewels gives us for why he acted this way: he wanted to get over her. Not only does this prove that he liked her deeply, not just superficially, but also that he got the message. He would have been truly, very thick had he not.

But back to the matter at hand. For some reason, this time around (I don’t remember, possibly third), I’ve been thoroughly engrossed and cried at different intervals of the story more so than before. I sobbed at the end of chapter 30, “The Worst Day Ever” in which it followed each character (Carlotta, Marlene, Donna, Mary, and Lily) on September 1st. I cried terribly during the last two chapters with the attack on the M.F.P. conference – the tension and the unknowing, and worst of all, the death of Sam Dearborn. Quickly, a word about Sam. Somehow, through so few chapters, Jewels created such a lovable character (limited in “screen time”) that his death (and Lily and James’ reaction to it) caused me to cry on multiple occasions. Jewels was able to capture the anguish of her characters so well, that for a moment I forgot it was a story at all and felt it myself. I cried when Sirius Black told Lily Evans that she “fit” with the Marauders, after she asked him why he was so sure she and James belonged together. I have absolutely no idea how she managed to utterly take me apart in the span of 3 days and 36 chapters, but no fanfiction has been able to do that.

I am fully in awe of what Jewels has created – The Life and Times is a work of art, capturing the 1970s in the Wizarding World perfectly. Would I like to see how each James and Lily, how Adam and Marlene, Mary and Reginald get together? No, I would love it. Am I still curious of how on earth all those 87 wizards and witches were murdered at the Magic For Peace convention, leaving no survivors? No, I’m haunted by it. And while there are parts that are frustrating to read (some sexist and misogynistic parts, especially from a few Ravenclaws are particularly uncomfortable), I also think she delivers an accurate representation of the 70s, which were much less politically correct that the world is today. She is not even encouraging this behavior because it’s all made by unlikeable “villainous” characters – not particularly evil, but definitely malicious.

Because Jewels created this story so magnificently, only she knew where it was headed and how it would play out. She wrote it so uniquely, using quick dialogue that made me feel that I was actually there. Phrasing her syntax in such a way that her descriptions were musical and poetic and completely relatable. Her chapter structures kept me on my toes, each one with its own unique flavor, yet all of them unified, flowing from one to the other perfectly.

Not only that, she created characters with strong, redeeming qualities as well as true, trying weaknesses. Lily Evans: she created Lily to be a kind individual that always sought to see the good in others, as J.K. Rowling told us she was. But she also made Lily imaginative and contemplative and romantic and strong, and, yes, sorrowful, fearful, angry, and (most importantly, if you ask me) not willing to discuss her real feelings with anyone, thus slightly hypocritical. James Potter: Jewels created James to be loyal, clever, more-than-slightly arrogant, humorous, brave, and even compassionate. But she also made him brooding, impulsive, hot headed, and many times, a prick. I could go on, but the main point is this: Jewels created complex characters. She didn’t make a wondrous, unfailingly kind Lily (if she were, why did she and James butt heads so viciously?), or a comical, lovesick James, a cheeky, brazen Sirius, a quiet, sentimental Remus, a quivering Pettigrew, or a moody, jealous Snape (yes, even he had more to him than this – drive and hunger to prove himself). Jewels created characters with depth! Characters that made mistakes and don’t just immediately learn from them. Hell, she made teenage characters in a fanfiction that didn’t ultimately think with their primary sex organ – characters that were able to see that there were more important things happening besides who’s shagging who. Of course, there were characters that were interested in this, but they’re not the type of people that would go to a protest at the Ministry of Magic (and, obviously, this just strengthens the certainty that James and Lily truly belong together). Essentially, Jewels created characters that are sometimes hard to like. She showed us real emotions and feelings and struggles like a proper novel. She went further than an exploration of two people’s love life and gave contextual reasons to their coming together, and why their relationship was so important in the greater scheme of Harry Potter. She created multiple storylines, intricately woven together, incorporating briefly mentioned characters in the Harry Potter series and giving them backstory and personalities. Jewels created a world within J.K. Rowling’s universe with complex political turmoil.

I fully and strongly admire the work and dedication that Jewels put into The Life and Times. I feel that it’s wishful thinking that she might return to this story after all these years (has it really been seven already?!), but I can’t help but wish all the same. I do understand because life does have a habit of getting in the way and people move on. I’m truly grateful for Jewels and what she gave to the world. No other fanfiction will ever evoke the feelings that The Life and Times does. No matter the emotional strife this story gives me, I will always be grateful, and it will always be my favorite. Thank you, Jewels.

#tlat #the life and times #jewels5 #Lily Evans #James Potter #jily #jily fanfiction #jily fandom #i literally love this story so much #Harry Potter #james x lily #limes #hp fanfic #hp fandom

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marvelgiggles · 5 years ago

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It’s Been A Long Week

Tom Holland x Reader

@blueloves-bts I hope you enjoy it!

Up Next: @ilovefanfics2019 prompt :)

You were so sore you could barely to put one leg in front of the other as you walked up to the door of your best friends house. It was a tradition to have a night in at their house on the first Friday of every month. However this week couldn’t have been worse timing.

You met Tom Holland when you were a Debbie on the broadway show and you stayed in contact after both of you were no longer performing the show. You clicked super well with his family that they practically adopted you when your parents moved to the United States. You also got along really well with his best friends, Harrison and Tuwaine, so you spent more time at their home than your own.

You were recently cast in an upcoming Cirque De Soleil show in London this coming winter and you severely underestimated how much work was going to go into preparing for the show. The choreographers and stunt crew were extra hard on all of you this week and you were definitely feeling it today.

You somehow got enough energy because you walked into the entryway of your second home.

“Y/N! You’re here!” Tom ran from the kitchen and lifted you up in his arms in a hug. “The boys are out tonight so it’s just you and I.” You internally sighed knowing that you wouldn’t be doing anything physically challenging with the four of them. Tom and you could just relax. “How the show going?”

“It’s so much fun but this week was so long.”

“Yeah you look exhausted. Movie sound good?”

You weakly nodded and shuffled into the living room. You flopped on your stomach sprawling your body and taking up most of the couch. You heard Tom chuckle when he entered the living no doubt laughing at your sprawled out form. He sat down and put your head in his lap and opened Netflix and turned something on.

You felt yourself drifting off to sleep and you felt Tom start to rub your back up and down further making you drift off to sleep. “Hey Y/N do you want a back rub?” He asked you and you sighed contently in agreement. You felt Tom lift your head off of his lap and he moved so he sat across your lower back.

You felt his hands start to rub out your exhausted and tight muscles and you bit back a moan as he continued to work your shoulder, mid back and lower back. You started to feel the tightness of your muscles minimizing and you were even closer to drifting off to sleep. That was until Tom accidentally drifted his hands a little too close to your armpits.

You flinched a little bit not wanting to totally give yourself away, but it was getting harder since Tom kept his hands on the more ticklish parts of your back.

“You okay Y/N/N?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled into the cushion of the couch not wanting risk him hearing your cracked voice.

“Are you sure because you flinched a little when I pressed here?” Tom said as he pressed into the same spot, making you flinch a little harder. “Are you pretty sore there?”

“No.” You said through gritted teeth trying not to giggle. Tom continued to press in that spot still thinking that the area was more sore, you continued at trying not to squirm to much, but after awhile you couldn’t help it anymore and you let out one of the giggles threatening to leave your mouth.

You instantly covered your mouth hoping Tom didn’t hear but you weren’t so lucky. “Wait, am I tickling you?” Tom chuckled to himself as he stopped and waited for your answer. When you didn’t respond fast enough Tom fluttered his fingers lightly in your armpits, causing you to jerk your arms down and lock them to your sides.

“Nohoho!” You giggled as you tried to squirm out of his grip. Tom kept tickling your armpits after a while and pulled his fingers out.

“I totally forgot you were ticklish! I wonder if anything has changed?”

You were more nervous because you couldn’t see him, the look on his face or where his hands were headed. This made you giggle nervously because you knew that Tom wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon.

Suddenly, you felt rapid fire squeeze up and down your sides. You squealed and were trying whatever you could to try and get out of his grip. Although with you being exhausted from this week, Tom’s strength, and the fact that you were on your stomach pretty made it impossible.

“Tohohohom!” You giggled.

“Well looks like nothing has changed. Although you do seem more ticklish than I remember.” He stated as he then crept his hands underneath you and started tickling you stomach.

You shrieked. There was something about him tickling your stomach while lying on it that made the sensations more unbearable for you. You desperately tried to grab his fingers to stop their torment on you.

“Know where is that giggle button of yours.” He said as he was rapidly poking all of his fingers around your stomach. One of his fingers finally found your belly button and you screamed in giggles.

“STAHAHAP! NOHOHOHO!”

“But Y/N I’m making sure this giggle button of your works.” He taunted you making the actions that he was doing tickle more than they probably should.

“IHIHIHIT WOHOHOHORKS!” You cried out in laughter still trying capture his fingers in yours.

“Y/N the more you try to stop me the longer this will take.” With how desperately you wanted him to stop tormenting that spot, you willed yourself to stop trying to grab his fingers.

He withdrew his devilish fingers from your stomach and belly button but slowly dragged his fingers up and down your spine. It was the kind of tickling sensation that was pretty light and gentle but could still make you squirm.

“Hehehehehe.” You hated how childish your giggles sounded but you couldn’t stop them.

“Well what do you know.” Tom said, no doubt with a smile on his face. He started to lightly walk his fingers up your spine and your giggles became a little louder in pitch but still sounded pretty helpless as you squirmed from side to side.

“Now, Y/N if I remember right there is one stop that you couldn’t stand when you were younger.” You swear that if you could see his face there would be a devilish smirk and playful glint in his eyes.

Tom grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them above your head, he also laid on top of you so all of his weight was on your back, further preventing you from squirming away from him.

You felt a light blow of air on the back of your neck and you almost head butted him as you threw your head back in laughter. Thankfully, he predicted your reaction because even though you wanted him to stop tickling you, you would have felt horrible if you head butted him.

When you had to get your hair done for Billy Elliot and the makeup artists accidentally brushed their fingers anywhere on your neck you would squeal and shrug your shoulders. They had to get pretty creative as the shows went on so they wouldn’t tickle you everytime they had to do your hair, but it was obvious that Tom remember that from back then.

Next you felt his breath on the left side of your neck and you instantly shrugged your shoulder preventing him from doing anything. However, you didn’t realize that you left your right side wide open for him to blow a raspberry.

“YOHOHOHOHOU SAHAHAHAHAHDIST!” You screamed in desperate laughter.

“No need for name calling Y/N!” He whispered in your ear before going back to blowing raspberries and nuzzling his nose into any crook of your neck that he could find.

Your laughter started to become hoarse and you didn’t have enough energy to try and fight him off so you just stayed still and continued to endure your ticklish torture.

Tom finally had mercy on you and quickly kissed your cheek before flipping you over. He grabbed the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch and laid it over you. He then got up and moved to the other couch that he had so you could recover from his tickles and so you could fully relax before the other got back. You'd need the energy for whatever they came up with but without a doubt it would make for some more great laughter in your memories.

#tom holland #tom x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland tickle #ticklish #tickle #tickles #tickle fic #marvel #marvel tickle #marvel tickle fic #ticklish!reader #mcu x reader #mcu tickle #mcu tickle fic #tickle mcu

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psychemeanscure · 4 years ago

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PART 6

“Are you pretty sure you can go there on your own?”

For the ninth time, she finally rolled her eyes on him. “Will you please, Spare me with your words Jang? I had enough. Don’t you know how many times you asked that question all over again? I’m not a child not to understand. Jeez.”

“That’s not my point there, Sung Eunyoung. You don’t know what kind of young man Zilo is, I tell you.”

“I know, alright? I’m fully aware. I can handle myself. Can you stop acting like a je--- Urgh. Dios Mio, why am I even explaining myself to you.”

Almost unmindful of what she blurts out, she quickly diverted her words certainly. Fortunate that he didn’t seem to notice as well. He was too preoccupied of much possibilities. Does not like the idea from the start surely, that with another few days he had also seen the true colors of a Zilo Alcaziar.

A filthy wise 20-year-old that should never be underestimated regarding his age for he is beyond than that. When during first impression, he thought he was just a typical reckless go lucky son who can do all he desires given with his dad’s on his back. Turns out, it was him who’ll be taken aback by the youngster’s decision making. He’s not wandering for nothing because he’s actually making a name of his own. He is indeed mature not for his built but the mindset itself. The old Alcaziar isn’t lying after all.

He has nothing against it anyway, except for the real problem which give him a knack of headache. The open affection of the rascal with Sung Eunyoung. That even after knowing her as his bride-to-be, he still mentions and complimented her name in front of him like it was just a casual thing to say. Words like, ‘By the way, how was sis?’, ‘Urgh. I haven’t seen her ever since the dinner, Aww. When can I able to see her again. How I wish I have a beautiful fiancé as sister.’, ‘Send her my regards, alright.’, And the hell he cares!

“F*ck! I do have a bad feeling for this, Sung Eunyoung.”

And he truly wasn’t joking when he said that. The moment he learned about Zilo wishing to meet her in private for a reason of giving her a special gift on them. The hades he would bite. He knew the tenacious young man is planning for something. “Great. So where is your ‘You think declining him ain’t do any suspicions?’ now, Huh, Jang Taeyoung?”

She even emphasizing it with a quoting gesture which only made him eat his own words in some way. He almost forgot that she is as well the reciprocal queen. “Damn it! This is different, Sung Eunyoung. Can’t you just trust me for once?”

“Whatever. As if I need your permission anyway.”

Yet, this volatile woman in front of him is as well stubborn as the other that he had no choice but to leave her office with no hopes. But even after he came back to his Casino Hotel, her decision keeps bothering him still. “Tss. Don’t blame me if something happens to you, woman.”

Only to make his assistant, confused in the middle of their discussion over a gang hideout. “Come again, Boss?” thus he glances though, absentminded. Assuring for nothing but not long to realize a pop-up idea. “Jae, for a while please.” His call indeed before the latter could went out finally from his office. “Yes, Boss?”

“You don’t have to come with us to the bust. I will have Lee to accompany me for now.”

“Boss? But---“

“I want you to do something for me.”

That’s how his blunt decision ended somehow, not regretting after he received the call he expected it to be.

“Sis! Over here.”

The resounding voice of Zilo, waving her from the sea of people. Greeted by the wild dirty music, make-outs, smokes and random liquors of every party goer. She’s definitely cursing Jang Taeyoung in her mind for turning her Nightclub in a mess that she is starting to doubt her decision upon passing the management to him was right enough.

“I wasn’t truly not expecting you to come, considering you’re a busy woman, sis. But thanks anyway.”

The first word of young Spanish to her indeed the time she finally managed to walk through the VIP Lounge of second floor. Relieve with the less loudness of the first floor. “Oh. No, no. It’s okay. I had free time anyway. Well, except that my Jang were grumbling the whole day for not letting him go with me. You know, he can’t help missing me by his side every day.”

With her nonchalant loving laugh that the latter only had to look in awe. “You really do love-struck with each other, eh?” a convincing disappointing response certainly that she only answered with a smile. ‘What a great story to tell, Sung Eunyoung. Great story.’ Her proud silent compliment for herself as well. “Anyway! Here is the present I’m telling you about, sis. Fresh from Madrid.” She was handed a black paper bag with various scented candles in it. As she picks out one from it. “Oh wow. Plaza Mayor de Madrid. Thank you, Zilo. Jang will be delighted with this for sure. You see, I love surprising him. If you know what I mean.”

Giving him her lovesick appearance again, just enough to see the cringing reaction from the persistent youngster. “I intended to bought it just for you though since you mention your obsession with scented candles last time. Only to learn that you’re actually doing it for your husband-to-be. I guess, I better give you a good luck, then.”

“Of course, Zilo. For whom would I ever be.” Thus seeing his more aggravating reaction makes her jump in success totally, for she really intended to bringing up her acting lovey-dovey like with her acting fiancé to let the persistent boy wake up from his reverie. The heck she entertains. She didn’t even let Jang Taeyoung fool her, what more with this imbécil in front of her. “Wah. How I wish I have my own romantic love as well.” As if his jealous stance from them which only made her laugh in mind, as her go with the flow proceeded anyway.

“If you’re that jealous with our relationship. Then go and make yours now, young man.”

As if her encouraging words then, somehow. While seeing the excited-like eyes from the latter. “Shall I?” his even preceding statement before offering a cocktail drink for her. “I guess; I need to start then.” Later, excuse himself to the comfort room afterwards.

Left on her own. Sung Eunyoung just diligently gulp the drink offered to her. Little did know, the drink may actually put her on danger. The next thing she knew. An unexplainable dizziness has hit her absolutely that she even starting to feel a swirling from her surrounding while the people seemed to split in her visions. And with heavy breaths she tries to fight, by gripping her hands with the bar counter yet didn’t work out.

Soon enough drowsiness came after. Thus she had no chance to sight the devilish desiring smile of the young Alcaziar approaching, for the blurring contacts has filled her as well. If there could be a kind someone who’s willing to rescue her, then good enough. If she may or may not be saved. She just wished one person to grant it, though.

“Jang Taeyoung.”

Her last fading words before she finally went blackout. No longer knowledgeable of what happened to her next.

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kimnjss · 4 years ago

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[ he stands you up ] requested.

@taestannie: super angsty anniversary weekend where he stands you up.

@houseofarmanto: forgetting your anniversary.

warnings: there are none??

A/N: requests for reactions are now open and without commissions. if you want to send a reaction request in, simply send me an ask!

NAMJOON

It's been six months since you started your relationship with Namjoon and despite his busy schedule he promised, a million times promised, that he would be able to meet with you for dinner to celebrate the special day. Any other day, any other time, you'd not get your hopes up because you knew how unpredictable his schedule was even if it was premade and solidified. Things came up and you understood that.

But, after seeing the look on his face, hearing the sureness in his voice when he made his promise, you decided that you would trust it and wait up for him. You put on a nice dress, did your hair and makeup prettily and waited for him to come pick you up, a large smile on your face.

As the hours ticked by, your smile seemed to fade and your patience began to wither. An hour, you could understand with him being late. If you remembered correctly, he had a busy day ahead of him so an hour late was expected. But four hours!? Four whole hours and not a single phone call?

To say you were livid would be an understatement. With a huff, you were kicking your heels from your feet, and trudging up the stairs to take all of this gunk off of your face and go to bed. Night completely ruined.

As you were wiping at your eyeliner, your phone lit up beside you. The smiling picture of you and Namjoon doing it's job in annoying you as a message from his truly popped up onto the screen.

[23:19] ♡ joonie ♡ : OHMYGOD!? BABY. im sooo fucking sorry, i forgot. im not even going to act like i didn't, because i really forgot.

[23:21] ♡ joonie ♡ : and don't take this to think ur not important to me, bc ur the most important thing to me... i just got caught up in the studio.

[23:26] ♡ joonie ♡ : im running home now, ready to make it up to u. please don't be mad!!

Setting your phone down, you shook your head, turning your attention back to your reflection in the mirror. You knew he meant his apologies and that he wasn't lying when he said that you were important to him.

If only this had just been the first time he forgot about you.

JIN

A hundred days together was a big deal. To you and Jin. He had woke you up this morning with the biggest of smiles ready to tell you exactly what today was, as if you'd forget. Like most days, Jin had to work, and of course you didn't mind. You were looking forward to when he'd come home.

There was no way he hadn't planned something fun for the two of you to do tonight and you couldn't wait to figure out what it was. Jin liked to keep things interesting when it came to your relationship, always surprising you and willing to spice things up.

Even after one hundred days, you could genuinely say that there has never been a bored moment between the two of you. Whether he was making you laugh with his corny jokes or if you were teaching each other new recipes, there was always something for you to do. Something fun that you could enjoy together.

Throughout the entire day, you couldn't help but think up what something special would he have planned for you two. Ideas changing the later in the day it got. The romantic walk where the two of you watched the sunset being crossed off as the sunset and he was nowhere in sight.

Briefly, you contemplated sending him a text, but didn't want to be annoying or overbearing. Surely, he didn't forget, right? He was just running late. Probably caught up at practice or in the studio or something? Jin was a busy guy, you understood that much, all you had to do was wait and when he came home the two of you would be able to do something fun together.

That was what you kept telling yourself as you watched the time change on the clock, until it's past midnight and the front door is slamming shut. Okay, stargazing was always fun! Especially if you got creative and brought blankets out into the backyard.

Without a word, Jin was entering the room. He offered you a small smile before kicking his shoes off of his feet. You watched as he stripped his jeans from his body, tossing his shirt away in the corner before sinking onto the bed. “I'm beat. Will you turn out the light when you're finished?”

He spoke on a yawn, eyes falling closed as he slowly began to drift to sleep.

YOONGI

[ 09:57 ] to- yoonfi ✩: you won't be busy all day, right?

[ 10:13 ] yoonfi ✩: nope, not all day. y?

[ 10:13 ] to- yoonfi ✩ : come home early! ive a surprise for you!!

To say your boyfriend was a hard worker would be the understatement of the century. Long hours spent in the studio, producing track after track, refusing to eat until he got the hook just right. He was so hard on himself, but with good reason, the boy was a genius when it came to making music.

The same could be said for his first mixtape, AgustD. You could perfectly remember the smile on his face when he let you listen to the completed version, the way it grew when it finally dropped and his fans loved it more than he had thought.

That was four years ago. Exactly. He had changed so much in the past four years, grown in so many ways and you were so proud of him. Which was why you were more than willing to spoil him on the four year anniversary of his mixtape.

Blessed that he didn't have a busy day, even though he told you that he didn't, you made sure to check with the others. Your boyfriend had the tendency to forget when there was something pending on their schedule.

According to them, though, he was free as a bird and you were ready to take advantage of the free time you'd have as soon as he finished his meeting this afternoon.

A little while after he left for work, you went out and bought an array of ingredients to prepare his favorite meal. Paired with his favorite brand of wine, you couldn't wait to see that smile of his once he walked through the door and caught whiff of what you made.

The food wasn't it, though. You also had splurged and bought him those speakers he had been eyeing for the past few weeks. Figured you'd surprise him with the gift after dinner, when he was relaxed in front of the TV just after you offered to give his back the massage it greatly deserved.

Then, of course, he'd be overwhelmed with happiness and here comes the wild monkey sex you'd have on the couch, and on the stairs, and on the bedroom floor, mapping out every inch of the room until you were falling onto the bed. Or something like that.

You had been so caught up in your plan and making sure that the food was just right, that it took you a moment to realize how late it had gotten. Way past the time Yoongi was supposed to be home.

With furrowed brows, you lifted your phone to dial him. His drawl of a 'hello' tickling your eyes after the third ring. “I thought you'd be home early?” You wondered after he moved to a quieter room to hear you better.

“I'm sorry, baby. I should've called. The meeting sucked so me and Joon have to come up with something new. It'll be all night, but I'll see you in the morning. Alright?” What were you to say? He had to work. Mumbling your agreement, you let the line go dead before plopping at the kitchen table.

HOSEOK

You had thought that Hoseok flying in on the same day of your anniversary would be cutting it close. It was a 14 hour flight, there was no way he'd land in time to make the plans that you had stupidly planned and you didn't really want him to. He'd be so exhausted after flying and you were sure that all he'd want to do would be to get some rest.

But it was your three year anniversary and he wanted to celebrate, insisted that he wouldn't be too tired to spend time with you and marveled about how the only thing he wanted after a long flight was to be with you.

So, per his request, you were slipping into the silky dress he had sent over. Allowing his stylist to come and do your hair and makeup, again, per his request.

Despite the fact that he wanted to keep where he was taking you a secret, you were able to convince him that it would be better if the two of you just met there in hopes to save time. He, reluctantly, agreed which was why you were seated alone in the restaurant he had so graciously rented out for the two of you.

Scanning over the menu over and over again, reading and rereading every word hoping to pass time. He should be here by now, right? Hobi was clear when he thought you that he'd be landing a little bit after eight and he had planned to come straight here from the airport. It was now 10, so what gives?

Lifting your phone, you frown at the message that you had somehow missed while studying the menu.

[ 21:22 ] hoseokie: princess!! our connecting flight was delayed. i won't be able to makee it :( sooo sorry, ill see you when i get back!

Your standing from your seat before you can read the end of the message, annoyed and overall disappointed. If only he had listened to you when you said over and over again that he wouldn't be able to make it.

At least the restaurant was empty, definitely saved you from looking as stupid as you felt in front of a room full of strangers.

JIMIN

Six o'clock. He had repeated it countless times before leaving the house so where was he now that it was six o'clock? He knew how important this day was to you, how important it should be to him. So where was he?

Was it too much to ask to be with your boyfriend on the anniversary of the day you met? He had said he would be here, so why wasn't he sitting next to you on the stupid park bench, enjoying the picnic you had prepared?

You had met Jimin exactly a year ago today. Could still remember the smile that took over his features when he spotted you seated on this very park bench, exasperation tinting your cheeks as you leaned back in attempt to catch your breath.

He had plopped down beside you without a second thought, a lame joke falling from his lips one he used in hopes to cheer you up. It had worked, you had laughed and instantly fell for the large smile that seemed to light up his entire face.

The two of you had been inseparable since that day, falling in love with each other slowly as the days went by until he was asking you to move in with him five months into your relationship. You said yes, of course and these past months settled and together had been... not what you were expecting.

A nice place for the two of you to live meant that Jimin needed to become a bit more serious about his work and no matter how great of a dancer he was, the craft didn't really call for a steady check. Which was why you encouraged, not pushed, him to get a regular 9-5 that would benefit the both of you in the end.

That's what people in serious blooming relationships did. Started making plans for the future, preparing to take care of each other. And in no way, did you expect him to quit dancing – just dial it back a bit so you wouldn't go bankrupt.

Either way, you regretted the decision of both of you needing steady jobs because lately it was like the two of you had become ships in the night. Hardly seeing each other for more than an hour with your opposite hours. But tonight, he promised, assured you that he would make it and be able to make up all the time the two of you had lost.

You were excited, got dressed up, yet he was nowhere to be found. After a full hour of waiting or him, you were effectively annoyed and ready to pack up and leave. Just as you stood, your phone buzzed in your purse.

Setting your belongings back onto the bench with a huff, you're reaching into your purse and pulling out your phone. Jimin's name lighting up on the screen, only worsening your mood. Did he really wait a whole hour to text you that he wasn't going to be able to make it? Of course he'd miss it, it was obvious now after an hour.

[19:07] jiminie!: i know u must be pissed nd im sooo sorry.

[19:08] jiminie!: i came home early nd wanted to take a little nap, but overslept. [19:10] jimine!: come home, i've prepared something nice for us.

No matter how mad you wanted to be, how mad you knew you should be, you really couldn't bring yourself to be. The boy was tired and you loved him, asked this of him so the least you could do was be a little bit understanding.

TAEHYUNG

The scowl doesn't leave your face not once the entire day. While you're cleaning up the house, while you're fixing lunch, while you're binge watching your favorite TV show. Pursed lips, raised brows and clenched teeth. You've been a foul mood all day and you had one person to thank for that.

The same person who rolled over half sleep nearly crushing you to death, but you didn't say anything because you loved him and loved being in his arms no matter the fact that you couldn't breathe underneath his weight. The same person that sprung up this morning, not a word about the meaning of today, just a grumbled: “Could you get breakfast ready?” As he pulled himself from he bed to go shower.

The same person that forgot your fucking anniversary and didn't even bat an eye when you brought up the date in hopes hearing the numbers would some how jot his memory. It didn't. What it did do, though, was remind him of the various things he had scheduled today with his little friends. Barely stopped to kiss you as he rushed out the door.

So your foul mood was his fault and you were planning to give him the cold shoulder until you were satisfied with the groveling he'd pull from being ignored. If there was one thing Taehyung hated was being ignored, you knew that more than anyone. One thing that you hated? When your so called boyfriend forgot the day that marked the start of your relationship.

You figured ignoring him would be fair.

Now, there was no way you didn't understand that Taehyung was a busy guy. He was always in and out of the house and so adamant about putting his all into his work and you admired that about him. You just never thought it would be some type of tug of war when it came to spending time with him. Especially on days as important as this one.

Punching the pause button on the remote, you reached to grab your phone cutting it's vibrating dance short as you read the message that had appeared on the screen.

[ 17:11 ] joon: happy anniversary. sorry we're stealing ur boyfriend :( what did he do this morning, though?

Ah, Namjoon their ever so considerate leader. Not a surprise that he'd be more attentive than your actual boyfriend on this day. How could someone, who was not even inside your relationship, wish you happy anniversary before your own man!?

[ 17:13 ] to joon: he forgot.

Tossing the phone beside you, the scowl on your face deepens as you glare at the characters on the screen. Stupid idiots, kissing and cooing as if their whole love story wasn't about to go to shit within the second act. How unfair. Taehyung would love bad mouthing shitty romcoms, but you had to be mad at him because he was a little shit.

Not even five minutes after the message sent to Namjoon was your phone dinging, Taehyung's specialized name lighting up your screen. Pfft, did he really need his friend to remind him of the day? How pathetic.

[ 17:17 ] boyfriend!!: baby!! oooh my god, im sooo... u know this isn't like me, i don't know what to say. we're in a radio interview now, but im rushing home right when it's over. pls, don't be upset. i mean i know ur upset, but lets at least try to salvage what left of the day we have. please. im soo sorry.

You thought, for a moment that you could be petty in this moment. Type back some snarky reply that you knew would make him feel some type of way. You just... didn't have the energy. Being forgotten about sucked, hurt in an odd way that you couldn't really explain.

Taehyung was a great boyfriend, but it was starting to get a little old the way he had your relationship on the back burner of his life. He was either with you, or not. Something's gotta give.

JUNGKOOK

You knew from the moment the words left Namjoon's lips, your boyfriend wasn't going to find true peace ever again. Let alone be able to rest properly. Producer. Which brought on a new array of responsibilities that Jungkook to very seriously, as he should.

Much like your meticulous boyfriend, everything had to be absolutely perfect and anything short of that wasn't worth presenting. That exact mentality was the reason why he spent so many long hours in the studio, at dance practice. Going over and redoing each note, each step, until he was satisfied or until he was being dragged out.

It was more often the latter because this boy was never satisfied no matter how great everything he did ended up looking, sounding. He still strives to be the best, better than the best. So it was no surprise that you were seeing him much less when his new title was being announced.

Producer Jungkook. It was safe to say that he was stressed. Not to mention that he still had to keep up with choreography, singing, interviews and being the youngest of the biggest boy band in the world.

You understood that, so you didn't blame he when he was too tired to fool around. Didn't make a fuss when dinner plans had to be canceled. Agreed when he asked you to watch him, help him figure out what he was missing. You were always there for him when he needed you.

So it was completely fair that you'd get a little pissed when you asked the same for him and he didn't deliver. It wasn't like you were requesting something bizarre or out of the ordinary, honestly, you just wanted him to be home early to spend a few hours together for your anniversary.

Three months wasn't long, not that much of a milestone, but it was still exciting and you wanted to be with him. Especially since he's been like a ghost these past few weeks. Was it too much to ask that he was home for just one night? Just one night where he was Jeon Jungkook of BTS, but just your regular boyfriend.

His apology came two hours after he was supposed to show up. A short message explaining that he wouldn't be able to make it. Like you couldn't of guessed that. Still, you waited, his favorite show cued up and ready. The incoming message had you flicking the TV off with a huff, trudging up the stairs with a prominent pout of your lips.

The pout didn't lift from your lips the rest of the night and pretty soon you were slipping underneath the sheets, lip jutted. He missed dinner fine, five o'clock was a little early to ask someone to leave work. But was he really not even going to make the effort to get in before you had fallen asleep?

Guess not.

It wasn't until after one did you feel the bed shift, a tentative arm wrapping around your waist as a heavy breath left his lips. But you were in no mood to be cuddled, especially not by him. Fully awake and alert now, you were shoving his hand from your body, scooting away from him.

“Come on, baby. Please. Today's been so shitty, I just want to hold you.” You could hear the sadness in his voice. But what about you? Did he even consider that your day might have been shitty too?

Forcing your eyes shut, you acted as if you had fallen back asleep. Back turned to him, because you could guess the sad look he had on his face. You couldn't bring yourself to turn around and give in, allowing yourself to be engulfed in him. Not tonight.

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ciceroisthefamilycat · 3 years ago

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The conclusion to the VA/BL reread with Silver Shadows and Ruby Circle (here’s the post on FH, here’s the post on the VA closers SB and LS)

I think I forgot to emphasize this in the last post: it is bullshit that Adrian still had the Alchemist-paid-for apartment after the events of “TFH” and only becomes more unbelievable that Trey has it still in “SS”... I do not get it

Like with SB and LS, I would make a lot of plot changes in the adaptation.

Silver Shadows

Fun fact: her golden lily on this book cover actually flashes a little gold in the right lighting, and I love that

This one, especially the majority of Sydney’s stuff in the first half or so of the book, was much better than I remembered.

Adrian’s stuff had me far less forgiving. I realize he’s struggling with a fictionalized elevated form of bipolar disorder and he developed addictions in trying to self-medicate over most of his adolescence/early adulthood so far, but as far as his actions go... the part where he blackouts for something like three weeks while in Sydney’s chapters she’s so certain he’s going to rescue her... it really frustrates me. Especially because Richelle writes him as self-flagellating over it, but Sydney immediately reassures him “oh, no, I just got the gas turned off, you couldn’t have really done anything...” as if those three or so days weren’t a big deal with the way the time crunch worked out later... it’s one of those heavy-handed things where I don’t feel like Richelle ever actually makes Adrian own up to his errors in the same way the rest of the main characters have to. Including: Wesley Drozdov and his motley crew show up again, and Adrian plays big hero and outs their dabbling attempt on Sydney, and then with Keith later on thinks to himself “at least I’d taken no for an answer from girls” as if he hadn’t insistently pursued both Rose and Sydney (including the scene at Alicia’s Victorian inn in IS) and been revealed to have dabbled at least once. Like, good that he’s trying to make up for past behavior, but again and again it comes off to me as glib or insincere (in the way it’s written- that he’s some model that is exempt from causing harm). This especially pisses me off in the way he treats his mom for sticking in a loveless marriage to his dad (did Adrian forget about his mom’s affair with Ambrose btw?) for financial security, and even with the hypocrisy being pointed out to him and him begrudgingly admitting it in his mind, or he drags Nina to Sonya’s to try and get her compensated for her work and she’s all googly eyes at him, but his acts of chivalry feel empty. And this extends to Marcus, too, to a lesser extent. Look, I love Carly (all the Sage sisters mean the world to me) and I’m glad that she became an advocate for fellow survivors and I get what Richelle was trying to do in empowering survivors with Carly’s character, but Marcus’ star-struck admiration of her (being made speechless by her strength) felt weird and make me uncomfortable.

On to Sydney’s stuff, holy hell her side of the story is dark. And this conversion therapy nonsense in it is part of why I desperately want canon queer leads in the adaptation (preferably Sydney herself, which would yes mean Adrian and probably Rose... that’s my prerogative). Is that potentially triggering? YES. But Richelle took that step when she laid it on so thick with the allegory. In the meantime, I love the supporting characters that Richelle drew up to be in the center with Sydney. Emma, Duncan, and the rest (the fellow detainees- not Sheridan... she can burn) and I want more of them (seriously, Richelle made some great underexplored groups with the Unpromised, the Keepers, the Merry Men, and then these additional Rebelchemists). There is a weird mention of Sydney having arranged some supply closets on one of the floors, despite whatever scene she did that in seemingly having been cut (there was also a line Rose ascribed to Victor at the end of Last Sacrifice about sending Jill away, so it’s not unheard of). When I first read the book (with a long break before), the degree to which Sydney was using magic in there felt illogical, but rereading directly from the other books, it is more justifiable. I think the Detainment, and Sydney’s struggles there, is some of the best writing Richelle managed in the books, and I don’t have any changes to that part.

But the escape... is actively worse than I remember it. There are glimmers of some great stuff in there- I mentioned in the last post how much I love when Sydney wakes up Hopper and sobs over him, and that still is powerful. But omfg Sydney (and Adrian) hold up the stupid stick so many times in these chapters. To be clear, first-off: Adrian should have gotten blood before they ever went into the desert. In the worst case, he and Eddie (the night before the infiltration) should have gone off to the side and done a feeding (doesn’t have to be Eddie, since I imagine he actually has a bad reaction to them since FB, but it does have to be someone willing). Eddie would have enough time to recover, especially with adequate food. Setting that aside, the actual events of the escape work for me. So I guess it’s more the after. Sydney and Adrian should have driven straight to Las Vegas (if they wanted to stop in the other town and change clothes and switch cars that’s fine with me- I even like the senior citizen tour they were on; p.s. we never learn if the Ivashkinator was shipped back to Palm Springs or anything, which is very surprising to me). Their decision to stay in a hotel overnight, even as much as Sydney did deserve that kind of relaxation, was stupid beyond belief. I would have preferred they got to Vegas, were spotted by Alchemists but made it to the Witching Hour without issue, and then Adrian got them a room, and that was the point where Sydney relaxed and slept. Consolidate some of that. Let Sydney have her luxury bath, and a haircut from Adrian, and other stuff there. Let her mention to him that the first photo she saw of him was taken near there, and hey, did he know Rose had bought a car in Russia that Sydney loved. And when Adrian goes down to make some money to further their escape, that’s when he realizes they’re being watched- there are too many yellow and orange auras. Let them have a less exorbitant wedding than in the book- no ridiculous mermaid dress that Sydney can’t expect to move in and that is ridiculously expensive (she can still have a beautiful stunning white dress). Let her start with the blue sneakers. Let Adrian find a place to get the ring made, if that’s necessary (or just use the dang cufflinks as are for the time being and pin them to the fancy attire). And Jill sends the chopper directly to the Firenze for an “Italian” wedding. They can still have the showdown with Sheridan on the roof- just simplify everything.

And then when they get to Court- let Sydney do more of the talking. Let her (righteously) call out the conditions in the reconditioning- the torture because she showed empathy to Renee who couldn’t even eat on her own, the torture they inflicted on Emma to break her- she didn’t betray her own kind, the Alchemists are repeatedly betraying their own kind, pushing them into the darkness of an empty hole. Oh, and this necklace around her neck, that Sheridan took for her own before Sydney reclaimed it, the morning glories were painted by the man she loves. And she rejects the Alcehmists having any authority on her. She’s a witch of the Stelle coven; she’s Sydney Sage Ivaskhov damnit. And when her dad tells her that if she doesn’t come with them, these will be the last words she ever gets to say to him? She gets to ask him if he knew what happened to Carly, if he let it happen under his own roof because he wanted a son like Keith more than the daughters he was blessed with. I want Sydney arguing her case, having her real communion. I said the same for Rose and Spirit Bound, and Sydney deserves the same here.

p.s. there are a lot of structural parallels between this book and BP/early SB- Sydney’s reeducation being like Rose’s time in Novosibirsk, the Tasarov escape from SB (which Eddie directly mentions) immediately followed up with a Vegas trip

Ruby Circle

Dang it. Look, I no longer hate the idea of Sydney and Adrian raising a kid. Their ending in RC was a lot better built-up (and a lot less bitter for Sydney) than I thought the first time. But the road to get there...

I hate the Jill being kidnapped by Alicia part (and I don’t buy the Warriors working with her). Honestly, just let them deal with Alicia during the events of Fiery Heart (when next to nothing else is going on). Like, Adrian and Sydney come off really badly in my head for “causing” her kidnapping because of a personal vendetta against them, when they came there to protect her in the first place (I realize the actual fault was with Alicia, but the feeling stands). Also the pointless scavenger hunt leading them from Pennsylvania (so conveniently, even though Alicia would have had to go there to set her traps after abducting Jill in the first place?) a month after the fact to whatever castle (then to Michigan) then to Palm Springs and the infiltrating the Warriors mission... it’s all too much (also I refuse to believe Sydney cast those stinging demons... that’s so dangerous I can’t even). Given the introduction of the Stelle in FH, and the unnecessary Malachi stuff, it works better to do that all then anyways. (I still want Jackie involved somehow of course) Instead of sidelining Angeline at Amberwood, she should get to be involved in the hunt for Jill (same as Eddie was for Sydney).

In other parts... Wesley Drozdov was never a good character. I really didn’t need even a mention of him in this book. I also... don’t buy how stigmatized Adrian was for marrying Sydney. I can see it being a scandal, or a laughingstock, the source of snarky asides and derision, but Richelle never built it in VA or the earlier BL books to being as heinous as she then tried to make it (so that Adrian could feel suffocated by Court, just like Sydney). I would have been much more interested in trying to see Sydney blend in, and take a stand in the Moroi world (and seeing her try to ally with nonroyal Moroi, but that also still not going super smoothly because they don’t like being on the same level as a human), and maybe her trying out her magic with the Moroi fighters that Mia and Christian had formed (that beautiful, blessed little moment), and then if it integrating there didn’t work admitting that it just... wasn’t going to. Rather than not even trying.

I understand that Richelle was building up with Adrian’s fears of completely losing it with Nina, but she just got screwed over in both of these books. (We’re acknowledging that it was wrong of her to kiss him in SS when he wasn’t even conscious, and moving on). And then Olive got screwed. And Neil got screwed. I said before that I don’t mind Sydney and Adrian raising a kid. But I mind a whole heck of a lot that Richelle killed (essentially) Nina and Olive both (in bullshit, tragic ways) and then wrote Neil off so that Sydney and Adrian would have to raise a baby. Let Sydney be pregnant. Let her be recovering from the most traumatic event of her life, she and Adrian forewent protection on their hectic honeymoon/escape, she’s going to be a mom to a Dhamphir and wow that’s going to be weird for her... and meanwhile this allows her to get through to Olive. To promise Olive and Neil that Sonya and everyone else will not use their baby as a test tube. Nina can still go up to the brink (maybe she passes it and the spirit trio of Lissa, Sonya, and Adrian have to heal her), there can still be a Strigoi attack at the Refuge in northern Michigan, but ffs cut the crap treatment of those three to pass on a readymade kid to Sydrian. It is a trope that I loathe. I also dislike the “ohmigod” fangirl characterization of Mallory, and while the Rand stuff was better than I remembered (that is to say, he is terrible and everyone acknowledges that and no one makes light of it the way I misremembered), I could do without it (especially since I’d prefer that if they keep Dimitri and Adrian cousins, they addres it much earlier).

Honestly, I would do the following:

the start of the season for RC (which doesn’t match its name??) has Sydney and Adrian locked down at Court and they can’t help like they want to, so they try to adapt and do what they can there, including Adrian trying to get Nina to calm down; their friends from Palm Springs and Marcus team up altogether and get an infiltration squad with the Warriors of Light; Eddie gets to participate; they rescue Jill, and get some of the data on the Alchemist/ Warrior collaboration

the Moroi Court finally gets into action on the age and family laws in earnest; meanwhile, Sydney is helping carve out a niche for the rebel Alchemists to work with the Moroi, especially for Strigoi hunting groups like what Mia and Christian wanted to organize; Jill and Sydney are helping each other emotionally recover from their respective hostage ordeals; Sydney realizes she’s pregnant, which helps Adrian realize in a dream with Olive that she’s pregnant, and finally sees her location marker

it’s “rescuing” Olive time; Neil gets to go too- with his presence, things don’t all go to shit; there is a Strigoi attack in retaliation for the new hunting groups, but heroes persevere and protect the commune; the data on the Alchemist/Warrior collaboration, and the Rebelchemists work with the Moroi, gives the perfect leverage now to get the Rebelchemists their freedom and establish Sydrian’s future together

SO, after rereading Bloodlines

I dislike Sydrian less than I did, though I still think Adrian could be vastly improved if adapted as a woman

the second half gave Eddie more to do, but still not enough emotional focus on him

man Amberwood and its supporting characters disappeared; I get that Adrian isn’t likely to settle in California long term, but can I please get more resolution to those characters, whether it comes from more focus in IS, or a graduation ceremony or something?

Abe also disappeared which is strange

man, Sydrian have a lot of daddy issues. because their dads are both abusive jerks. but why oh why did Jared end up collaborating with the Warriors for tattoos? was it because of anger over ‘losing’ Sydney or just greed? I’m glad that Zoe and Sydney at least started to heal things, and that Zoe is ok where she is

we still never got answers on who restored Lee... Clarence only showed up for deus ex machina money and shelter and I guess blood (did Marcus ever get to speak to him again?)

minor grievance: Richelle described the Warrior recruits as being almost evenly distributed between men and women, with a slide toward men, before two pages later saying there were 30 potential guys and 13 potential ladies, and remembering that, oh, yeah, the Warriors didn’t really use women on the front line; I don’t want any of that subplot adapted I just... editing?

#DoBetterByOliveAndNinaAndNeil2030 (who gets to name their kid Declan?), #LetSydneyUseHerBeautifulBrain

#I'm a VA girl #long beneath the cut

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