#and then with any luck my anxiety will dissipate

[ingravinoveritas]

My last two brain cells on Election Day currently be like...

[himasgod]

Kaveh x Reader

Where, having an anxiety attack, you meet Kaveh.

(Established relationship, anxious reader)

(After the Sabzeruz festival event, I fell back into my Kaveh era 😞 This has been one of my favorite things I've written so far, I'm especially proud of this one. Enjoy it!)

It was a cloudy afternoon in Sumeru, the gentle breeze of the wind carrying with it an air of melancholy. You had been feeling anxious, the pressure of the world around you seemed to intensify with each passing day. The Akademiya and all its expectations and plans for you were making you sick. As the shadows of the afternoon lengthened, your thoughts grew darker, dragging you into an abyss that was difficult to escape from. Anxiety became a constant companion, one that found its way into every corner of your mind.

The only thing you thought about at the moment was seeing him. The greatest support in your life.

At that moment, you decided to take a walk through the garden of the Palace of Alcazarzaray. Maybe the splendor of nature could offer you some peace. The scent of flowers and the soft sound of leaves rustling surrounded you, but your mind was still caught in its own storm. However, in the distance, a familiar figure was approaching: Kaveh.

It seemed that luck had smiled on you that day.

Kaveh, the brilliant architect, was known not only for his talent in construction, but also for his ability to light up any room with his presence. With his golden hair blowing in the wind and his carefree smile, it seemed that everything in his being defied the heaviness you felt in your chest. When he saw you, his eyes lit up and his beautiful smile reflected in his eyes, and he quickly approached.

“Hey! What are you doing here alone? I was thinking about you! What a coincidence! I was just going to come to your house to help you with your projects,” he asked, his voice like a balm for your restlessness.

“Just… trying to clear my mind,” you replied, trying to force a smile.

“The mind sometimes needs a break, don’t you think? Come, come with me,” Kaveh said, taking your hand tenderly and kissing your knuckles. Then, with his wide, tender smile, he led you to a corner of the garden where the flowers were more abundant and colorful.

As you walked, Kaveh began to talk about his latest projects, his enthusiasm palpable in every word. He shared anecdotes about his challenges in construction, how he dealt with criticism and difficulties. Despite your own problems, you couldn’t help but smile as you heard his voice full of passion.

“Architecture isn’t just about building buildings, it’s about telling stories,” Kaveh said with a spark in his eyes. “Each brick has its own meaning, each design tells a part of our story.”

You found yourself nodding, his perspective beginning to influence your own world. With each word of his, the heavy cloud of anxiety that enveloped you seemed to dissipate a little more. Kaveh had the ability to make you forget about your problems, at least for a moment.

“You know? Sometimes I feel like anxiety consumes me,” you finally confessed, vulnerability hanging in the air between you.

Kaveh paused, his gaze softening, and he took a moment to reflect. Then, with an understanding smile, he looked into your eyes.

“You’re not alone in this. We all face our own demons, and it’s natural to feel overwhelmed. But remember that there’s always light, even in the darkest of times. I’m here for you, and I always will be. Because you’re my everything. You’re like… the pillars of me, you know?”

His words were a comforting whisper. Kaveh, with his creativity and optimism, helped you see the world from a new perspective. You felt lighter, like the burden on your chest was fading away.

“Thank you, Kaveh,” you whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’ll always be your biggest support, and if you ever need to escape, you just have to tell me. Now, come, I want to show you something special."

With that promise, Kaveh led you to a small corner of the garden where he had begun work on a new project. In the center, there was a blank canvas, a representation of a future he was building himself.

“I’m thinking of this as a symbol of new opportunities,” he said, looking at the canvas with a gleam in his eyes. “I want us to paint it together.”

And so, with brushes in hand and laughter floating in the air, you began to create. Each stroke was a step forward, a small triumph over the anxiety that had threatened to consume your peace. Kaveh was at your side, his laughter echoing in your ears, each color you chose together filling the canvas with not only pigment, but hope.

In that instant, you realized that although anxiety was a shadow that sometimes loomed over you, there was also light and beauty in the world, especially when you were with Kaveh.

And as you painted, the future seemed a little brighter, a little more accessible, and above all, you were toghether. For ever.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[astraanti]

The last cry of faith

One shot- Optimus Prime Part. 2

The reader is human

Human x Cybertronian

Enjoy! I'm sorry if any translation is wrong. My first language is not english.This fic was originally written in spanish. Please understand (⁠o⁠´⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠)⁠っ

Part 1 is now available:

I was afraid, afraid that I would make a mistake and not find the right words to save my own species, so I took one more deep breath and wiped away my tears before we boarded Bumblebee.

"I only have one chance, don't I?" My heart was beating hard and fast. I didn't know what I was going to face.

It was a huge burden trying to start a conversation with a normal person for me, now here I am trying to take on a responsibility as big as talking to the leader of the Autobots to try to mediate and save both species.

"Let's do this, Bee." I bravely took the wheel and let him drive.

__________________________

What if I make a mistake in my words? What will I say? What abandoned me and made me feel terrible in her absence? That I got depressed believing that he wouldn't remember me anymore?

I thought about my arguments over and over again, rephrasing my words so as not to fall into impulsiveness or anger.

Quintessa would take full control over Cybetron if Unicron perished, they explained to me that if Optimus did not give the direct order, it would be too late to avoid changing the fate of both planets. Lennox tried to mediate with Optimus before but he refused to do so.

When he heard my name he avoided doing any action that he denied to know that he needed me there, that's why they came to look for me.

I was breathing hard because my anxiety was bigger than my own height, Brains moved to the copilot's seat to try to calm me down and Bumblebee played relaxing music to dissipate my nerves as we arrived at the base. The trip didn't last long.

I could see the figure of Lennox and his team around the base and they spread out when Bee parked.

This was the moment where I asked for a little faith and luck for myself.

If there's someone looking out for me on the other side, it's time for you to do your job and back me up a little this time.

I looked at the two little autobots before they got out and I unbuckled my seatbelt and my hands were shaking. Lennox noticed my presence and opened the door for me from the outside.

I looked at him with teary eyes and hugged him. My soul needed human warmth and Lennox was able to give it to me; Even when he followed orders our affection was mutual.

"I thank you for coming." He caressed my back with his hands. —But there is someone who needs to talk to you in there.

—I know.

Our hug ended and he accompanied me to the entrance of the base, I could feel his men's gaze on us as if we were the only solution to this and I entered alone.

This was the moment I had been waiting for all this time and my nerves were on edge. Still I was determined to do it and I walked.

As the soles of my shoes hit the ground with my steps, I heard metallic movements on the other side of the base. Optimus knew he was here.

I didn't have time to fix my image, I was a mess and so was my face after crying so much, I only faced my fate when I saw the silhouette of Optimus between the shadows and the subtlety of the moonlight that was reflected in the windows. and in its metal armor.

He turned to see me.

I tried to smile when his optics met my tired eyes.

He could see the sadness in Optimus's features.

—Is this how all this will end? Is this the end of us, Optimus?

Optimus looked away, I think I was too hasty starting that way. I just wanted to follow my soul and say what I wanted because I wanted to hear what he had to say too.

—You had no reason to come, and you decided to do so. "I didn't ask you to do it," Optimus said.

—I came because I thought you needed us to talk about us, about ours. I didn't come to talk about the decisions you make, you are free to do what you want, but this is necessary for both of us.

—It was I who abandoned you, I could have made things turn out differently and they didn't. I will never forgive myself for it.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to yell at him, I wanted to vent about everything he put me through, but I knew I had to refrain from falling into despair.

—I thought I was protecting you by leaving Earth. My absence only brought you more problems, however the choices that your leaders have made by continuing to go against me...—He leaned forward to try to be at my level—are the ones that caused our alliance to immediately end.

—And what about us? —I'm sure when I saw his optics they were much brighter since the last time I saw him. —Wasn't I good enough for you?

Optimus wasn't used to talking about his feelings. Not in front of others and much less when the end of the world is approaching, but we both knew that this was our only opportunity to confess everything we had pending.

—You were more than I would have wanted. You waited for me and I failed you.” Optimus lowered his head. “I thought you would be better off without my presence.”

—Will you only say that? Are you going to lower your head regretting something you didn't even have the audacity to face? —I sought to provoke him to face the feelings he tried so hard to deny. — I was waiting for you for a long time, suffering from seeing you fight, I suffered your death when Fallen appeared and your sudden disappearance when Cemetery Wind and Lockdown were hunting us.

—I tried to get away from you so that you could have a simple human life outside of the risks that came with being by my side. —He tried to explain himself. —I promised that I would protect you at the expense of my spark.

"And I promised you that I would stay by your side no matter what happened!" I shouted furiously.

—I was afraid of losing you! —She screamed with the same intensity. — I tried to get you to safety when Lockdown shot in your direction that time and I failed in my task, I couldn't stand it because I had thought the worst. — Her voice sounded broken. — I couldn't.

—Were you afraid of losing me? Well, you're going to lose me for the second time if Quintessa manages to fry us after you make the worst decision you've ever made in your long life, Optimus!

The tension in the air worsened when Optimus stood up and turned his back to me.

—If you came with the sole reason of persuading me to change my mind, you are failing in your objective.

—I didn't come to change your opinion, I came to talk to you because you didn't care about me.

She looked at me quickly as if she had offended him and I backed away when she started heading towards me, but I knew she wouldn't hurt me.

—I care more about you than you think, what should I do so you can understand it!?

— Love me with all your strength! Without shame, without denials or objections! Without abandoning me!—I felt my cold tears running down my cheeks when I said that. Inside me I was imploring him to stop being corny but my soul had to say it without stammering.

He was stunned by my request. I think it was too much, but I decided to continue.

—You are the great Optimus Prime! The leader of the free galaxy! Not even so free because he doesn't even have the freedom to be loved!

I felt his gaze on my little existence, a breath of air came out of his mouth and he shook his head.

—I would give anything to love you the way you ask me, but I'm not a human. I am-

—You are Optimus Prime! "The only one I've had the chance to call my own hero in this life because he saved my life!" I interrupted him.

—I am your guardian and I always will be, and no one else will be.

—Then if you want to protect me so much, then do it. Protect me, save me. Save us but don't do it for them...—I was referring to the humans who had hurt us in the past.—Do it for all of us who decided to fight and be by your side. — I paused. —Do it for me, because my faith in you is still intact.

A silence reigned for a few moments.

—We all have something in common in this universe, which unites us. —He continued- But what keeps me alive in this life is you.

Optimus leaned up again and took my chin with his finger as he brought his face closer to mine.

—Do you still have faith in me?

—I never lost her, Optimus! —Something in me made me rush to his face to hug him. My tears fell on the panels of his face. "Never even if my heart stopped beating..." I said sobbing.

He covered me with his hand and pressed my body against his face, as if it were a shield.

It was the first time in a long time that I could feel his embracing and protective warmth.

—I will not let you down or abandon you this time. —He whispered —I promise you...

I felt like the minutes were eternal with his hug.

These had been the best minutes I had spent with him in my entire life, I just prayed that fate would give me the opportunity to have more moments like this.

Only then could I be in front of the Optimus I fell in love with, without fear that he or I would feel judged or regret our union.

"With all my spark," he finished.

_________________________________

I left through the door of that base.

When Lennox saw me I nodded, it was done. Optimus had given the order from his communicator to the autobots to begin the attack plan and save Earth again.

The hatch to the base opened and Optimus emerged in his alt mode waiting for me at the open driver's door.

I closed the door.

—Thank you.— I smiled and he advanced.

Lennox also gave the direct order to follow Optimus' plan and boarded Bumblebee.

After all... There was a small glimpse of light in the darkness and a last cry of faith that changed the destiny of humanity.

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: idol!minho. hurt/comfort. angry/protective!minho. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. lotss of angst. reader has long hair/fear of the salon. minho is protective in this one. reader's appt at the salon has a huge mishap. pet names (affectionately). lots of adorableness from minho.

word count: 3.7k

summary: for as long as you can remember, you've always hated going to the salon - always hated others touching your delicate hair. and now, as an adult, you want to change that... want to face your fears. but you've never had good luck, which becomes clearly apparent after your appointment at the salon.

a/n: this one goes out to all my girlies who have issues with their hair. i, myself, have very long hair and am very particular about the way that i take care of it. i hate salons lmao so i thought i'd write a quick, angsty minho hurt/comfort fic surrounding my own experiences/feelings. hope ya'll enjoy~ 🥰

🤎 - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋread my rules & guidelines here! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋcheck out my skz masterlist! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋmy wip list! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋskz fic recs [nsfw ver]! :: 18+, MDNI! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋback to navigation! ࿐ྂ

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

 “You’ll text me when you’re done, kitten?” Your boyfriend Minho asked you, as he leaned in and pressed a tentative kiss against your forehead. 

 “Yeah, of course, baby.” You peered up at him, offering him an easy smile. Trying to play off your anxiety. For your shared day off, the two of you had chosen to run some errands together. Minho needed to pick up some new fitness gear he had purchased from a store near your shared apartment. And you… well, you had an appointment to get your hair cut. 

 But honestly, you were fucking dreading it. Ever since you were a little girl, you had always held a lot of anxiety around the concept of going to the hair salon. Since, growing up, your mother had forced you to go to get your length trimmed once every three months, and you always threw a fit during such a time. You didn’t like anyone else touching your hair - especially a strange man or woman who applied weird, smelly products to your locks afterward. 

 Plus, you were very particular about the length of your hair. You didn’t like to have any sort of fringe - your mother had had you try it out when you were in high school, and the continual swipe of your wispy hair had always irritated the sensitive skin on your forehead. You also didn’t like having your hair super short, and instead opted to keep it at a length that reached just a little below your hips. 

 It was excessive, you knew, from how downright obsessed you were with your hair and who was allowed to touch it. Then, to your surprise, Lee Minho had come into your life, and your qualms about such things somewhat dissipated. At first, you cringed whenever he’d touch your hair - even if he merely ran a few fingers through it. But, over time, with enough space given to you by him, and because he was so understanding and loving about the whole thing, you slowly started to open up to him; you slowly started to allow him such a privilege. 

 And ever since, you two had never looked back. It seemed like every second he could get, your boyfriend had his hands buried in your hair - whether it was in a purely romantic or sensual way. He just loved your hair… the lusciousness of it, the length, the care that you took every day to keep it clean and healthy. Minho had told you on multiple occasions that he admired your attention to your long locks, how you washed them every few days in a particular way, and how you were always researching new and improved clean-beauty products to use on your hair. 

 So, it came as a total surprise to him when you suddenly proclaimed that you had booked an appointment at a nearby hair salon. For a moment, he was completely thrown for one… because, his baby, wanting to get her hair touched by some random stranger? After she hadn’t been to a salon since she was a freshman in university? Well, that was just so unlike you… 

 You didn’t want to tell him, because you knew what he’d say, but in all honesty, you had suddenly felt motivated to go to the salon because you had seen some of your favorite hair influencers on Instagram recently get their hair trimmed. They made it look so easy - sitting there for hours, letting the stylists run their hands through their luscious locks, getting perms done and quirky, bright colours poured onto their scalps. 

 But you had never been like them. And for once, you wanted to change that. You wanted to face your fears of the salon, walk in there with a proud face and head held high, and get something done - even if it was just a simple trimming of your ends. Which, you kind of desperately needed anyway. And, being the ever-supportive boyfriend that he was, Minho even decided to tag along with you on the day of your appointment since it conveniently aligned with the day off that he had been looking forward to for the past few months. 

 It was a rarity, that you got to spend all day with your boyfriend since his schedule was always so jam-packed with photoshoots, recordings, and practices. So, you savoured the Wednesday afternoon spent with him, basking in the late-winter sunshine and clutching onto him as you traipsed through the many streets of your local neighborhood. 

 And for a while, you almost forgot about your appointment altogether. 

 But then Minho reminded you of it, and when you checked your phone, you read that it was close to three in the afternoon. You had set the appointment for three-thirty. So, in a hustle of anxiety, you yanked Minho along the side streets with you, following the GPS on your phone for directions. 

 The two of you stopped just outside the shop, and you noticed the bustle of people inside. It was a good sign that it was so popular and busy, right?

 At your silence, you had felt a hand find yours, fingers squeezing between fingers gently. “You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, darling,” Minho had said in a soft tone, tugging on your hand a little bit so that he caught your gaze. His eyes were dancing with a myriad of emotions, the predominant one being concern. Because you didn’t have to say anything to tell him how you felt about it all. Minho might’ve been on the quieter side of things, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t know you like the back of his hand- that he couldn’t read each of your innermost emotions without you ever having to voice them. “No one’s forcing you to get your hair done.” 

 “I know, babe…” Your voice had trailed off, as you squeezed his hand back and offered him what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “But, I need to do this. To prove to myself that it’s not that bad.” 

 He nodded, once. Then, he was tucking a few strands of your loose hair behind your ear, delicate pads of his fingers swiping across the warmth of your cheeks. “Alright, well, I’ll be waiting around until you’re done.” He gave your shoulder a tentative squeeze and flashed you a tiny smile before stepping away and letting you walk past. 

 You trailed up the front steps of the salon, turning back to your boyfriend just as you took hold of the front door’s handle. “Wish me luck.” You said in a breathless voice, heart beating wildly against your ribcage, anxiety constricting your throat just a little bit. 

 Minho gave you two thumbs up, a bright, reassuring grin spreading across his lips. “You’re gonna do great, kitten… love you.” 

 “Thanks, and… I love you too.” You swallowed down the restlessness that had been steadily building up inside of you, finally pushing through the salon’s front doors. 

 Almost immediately, you were overtaken by the strong scents of hairspray, lilac-rose shampoo, and powerful bleach. The noise was also elevated, as patrons and stylists alike chatted about life and talked about different hair techniques. 

 Yup, nothing had changed since your childhood. 

 “And… done. You can turn around now, Y/N.” Your stylist Rina said a few hours later. She was fairly nice, but you could tell that was new to the craft - probably fresh out of cosmetology school. She was quite flighty with her movements, doing quick, sharp cuts and washing your scalp pretty roughly. 

 The entire time she worked on you, you had your eyes screwed shut. Trying to ignore the crawling icy fingers that laced up your spine at the very feeling of this near-stranger working on your hair. But somehow - by some miraculous miracle - you had managed to make it through the entire appointment. 

 Slowly, you cracked your eyes open. 

 And your heart immediately dropped into the pit of your stomach. 

 Because the sight you found there left you too shocked and… and heartbroken to do anything else but just stare in utter disbelief. 

 The person staring back at you wasn’t you. 

 It fucking wasn’t. 

 Not with the short, above-shoulder-length hair, 

 Not with the thick fringe that spanned across your forehead, 

 Not with the layers cascading down the sides of your face. 

You had asked her for just a trim - you had asked her not to cut off a lot of your length, you had asked her for no fringe. But maybe, you hadn’t. In your anxiety, maybe you hadn’t said such things and decided to leave it up to her. 

 But no, no, no, this wasn’t right at all and- 

“What do you think of it?” Rina asked in an elated, high-pitched voice. She was beaming down at you, admiring her work through the mirror. 

 And at that moment, you didn’t have the heart to tell her what you felt. The people-pleaser came out from deep inside of you, and you shoved down the rising panic, swallowing the coming tears. “I-It’s great, but… I thought I asked for just a trim and no fringe?” 

 She waved a nonchalant hand in the air, “Yeah, but I thought you’d look so much better with this style,” she reached forward, combing a hand through your hair and pulling apart your thick layers. “See? The layers and fringe add so much more dimension to your hair… it looks amazing!”

 You barely managed to hold in your sobs, deciding on nodding slowly in agreement. “Thanks, I love it…” You said in a quiet voice, but Rina still heard you nonetheless and beamed with pride. 

 In no time at all, you were up from your seat and paying at the front desk. The woman there admired your new look and praised you for how good it looked. 

 You wanted to fucking vomit inside your mouth just then, but you held it all in. Just a little bit longer, just a little bit farther, and then you could let go and give in to your despair. Into the grief of losing such a big part of yourself - after all, you had been growing your hair out to such a long length since you were a newbie in university years before, and it was a key factor in your identity. 

 But just like that, it was gone. 

 In the blink of an eye, 

 With just a few snips of a pair of scissors and some quick hands, 

 Years of care and planning and admiring… gone.

Most of all, you were dreading the thought of meeting up with your boyfriend after the appointment. But, what were you to do? Ignore him for the rest of the day - hide from him? 

So, you did what you could only do at the moment, and texted him that you were ready to go. Not two minutes later, he replied with a ‘be there soon.’ 

 You sat down on a nearby bench just outside of the still-bustling salon, basking in the silence. The sky was slowly starting to darken with night, as it was nearing dinnertime. The absence of the weight of your long hair pulled at your heartstrings, and the oddity of your hair hanging in front of your forehead left you in an odd sort of limbo state between miserableness and pain. 

 “Kitten… is that you?” 

 The voice came out breathless, meant for only you to hear. And you turned to your right to see Minho stopped in his tracks just beside you, giving you the most peculiar look. It was a mask between surprise and… worry. 

 “Y-Yeah, hi…” You said meekly, as he came over to you and sat down on the other side of the bench. 

 Minho studied your new look in quiet for a few beats, inspecting and adjusting to it all. “Wow, baby… I’m- I’m so surprised by the style, I thought you wanted just a trim.” 

 You turned your face away from his then, not being able to handle the way his eyes softened in the wake of his surprise. “The… the stylist said I needed a change, that this suits me better.” 

 “But do you like it?” 

 And you grew silent from his question, telling your boyfriend all he needed to know about your answer. Your entire body froze up, your heart racing in the pit of your chest at such a big change to your entire persona and aesthetic. 

 “Baby-”

 The breakdown started then, 

 The tears freely flowing down your cheeks, 

 The emotion warming your cheeks into a rosy-red colour, 

 Chest pounding with your quick, rapid breaths. 

 Your entire body shook, as Minho pulled you against him then. He wrapped two arms around you, holding you close to him by the waist, squeezing you tight to ground you down again and bring you back to the present. Your boyfriend gently caressed a hand down the length of your short hair, whispering sweet words of love into your ear. 

 The two of you stayed like that for a long time, with him holding you, and you crying into his shoulder. But finally, when you had gained some semblance of control over yourself and the tears, you pulled away from his form slightly. 

 “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying… it’s not that big of a deal, it’s stupid.” You said, your voice a little shaky from all of the emotions jumbling around deep inside your stomach. 

 Minho tilted your chin up with a gentle finger, meeting your gaze, “First of all, you don’t have to apologize for anything, you did nothing wrong. Second, it is a big deal, darling - your hair is a huge part of your identity, and you having such a thing done to you isn’t stupid.” One of his hands found yous, and he squeezed the skin of your palm gently. “The stylist that did this to you is just downright cruel.” 

 And just like that, his entire demeanor shifted in front of your eyes. From one of comfort and heartbreak for you, to one of anger and appalment. His face darkened, jaw clenching tightly, pupils dilating in his rage. He was standing up from the bench in one fluid motion, so quick that you almost didn’t catch onto his coat sleeve. 

 You yanked at it, desperately trying to break through his daze of sudden wrath. “P-Please, Min, let’s just go home… don’t want you to make a big fuss out of it.” You said in a frantic tone, pulling and pulling at his hand. Minho rarely got mad, but when he did - people better watch out. Usually, he only got mad on the rare occasion that the two of you would fight. But sometimes, it was on your part- for something that someone had done to you, and he saw fit to ‘put them back in their place.’ 

Your boyfriend gave you a dark glare, but you knew that it wasn’t leveled at you. It was leveled at the person that had caused you to cry. He hated seeing you cry. It always took a year off of his life, always killed him inside to see his better half - the love of his life - in such distress. “Oh, I think this deserves a ‘big fuss.’” He said in a low voice before he was grasping for your hand and pulling you from the bench. 

 And before you knew it, you both were storming through the front doors of the salon, already turning heads with the loud slam of the door. 

 “Where’s the woman who worked on my girlfriend?” Minho shouted out across the shop, and immediately, everyone froze up from the look that was adamant on his face. Which was pure, unbitten fury. Minho was clutching onto you, an arm wrapped protectively around your waist as he held your shaking form close to his side. 

 Then, Rina appeared from somewhere near the back of the salon. She walked up to the two of you with hesitant footsteps. “Hello, how can I help you?” She asked, offering a tight smile that bordered on a grimace of pain. 

 “Were you the one who worked on my girlfriend?” 

 “Yes, I was-” 

 “Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve done to her?!” He was full-on shouting this time around, his voice raising so loud that it seemed to vibrate across the room. You could hear a pin drop just then, as all eyes were focused on you and your boyfriend. “Her hair was her identity- she’s been growing it out for eight fucking years now! And then you have the audacity to ruin all of her hard work because you ‘thought she’d look good with a different style.’” 

 He was downright seething, the anger seeming to pool out of him in waves of dark crimson. You were still quavering beside him, holding onto his elbow shakily, your focus on Rina as she stared on at the two of you with a jaw slacked in shock. 

 Her bottom lip quivered with unbidden tears, as she was at a loss for words from such an outburst. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

 “Yeah, I’m sure you fucking didn’t,” Minho said in a deathly-low voice, the deepness of it cascading down the length of your spine and sending an icy chill racing through your veins. “She asked for a simple trim, not- this shit!” He wildly motioned to the new style of your hair, and all of your locks in their chopped glory. 

 “What can I do to make it up to you?” Rina was soon asking, but she directed the question towards you, guilt bringing her shoulders down low and brow furrowed with distress. “How can I fix this?” 

 “You can start by giving us a full refund.” Your boyfriend spoke up for you, and honestly, you were grateful for him at that moment. You were still so overwhelmed by all of the changes, and his explosion of rage sent a curveball of surprise your way. 

 Rina was bowing low then, mumbling another handful of apologies as she neared the front desk. Within no time at all, she had typed up something on the computer and had your info pulled up. “The appointment has been fully refunded. Once again, I am so incredibly sorry.” Rina said, coming away from the desk and giving the two of you another deep bow of apology. 

 “Thanks.” You managed to get out in a quiet voice, words fluttering with strain on your tongue. You turned to your boyfriend, pulling at his sleeve, “C’mon Min, let’s just go…”

 He fully turned to you, assessing all of the damage - noting the shaking in your shoulders and the pink on your cheeks, and the glossiness of your eyes. He nodded in surrender, before turning back to Rina. “And I’ll have you know that we’ll never give this establishment any form of business in the future.” 

 Minho held you close as you shuffled out of the salon’s front doors. You could feel the stares of stylists and customers alike burning literal holes into your back as you left. It was so anxiety-inducing, you almost broke down again right there on the steps leading outside. 

 When you guys had walked far enough down the street that the salon was out of view, Minho suddenly stopped the two of you. Your gazes locked, as his eyes roved over your form - testing, and judging your current state. 

 “You okay?” He asked, his voice returning to the delicate tone that he always used on you. It was sweet and gentle, and the way that he reached up to brush a few dried tears away from your warmed cheeks only made your heart leap even more in the pit of your chest. 

 “Y-Yeah, I think so, just… a little shaken up, that’s all,” you peered up at him, and this time, when you smiled, the little thing was genuine. “Thank you for doing that back there… I-I never would’ve had the balls to say what I felt in front of all those people, let alone in a salon.” 

 Minho wrung both arms around your waist, your hips meeting together in the middle of the street. Leaning in slowly, he placed a tentative kiss against your lips. “Of course, kitten… I’ll always be here to be your voice when you can’t find the strength to speak your thoughts.” You smiled against his lips and kissed him back with a tiny giggle bubbling out of you. “By the way, I like the new look- it’s a big change, but it suits you nonetheless.” 

 You pulled away from him a little bit, carding a few delicate fingers through your freshly-washed, silky hair, “Really? You truly like it?” You stared up at him with big, wide eyes, utterly surprised by his admission. 

 “Mmhm- but don’t get me wrong, I loved your old style too. But this… this is something new, and I like it just as much.” His arms around your torso squeezed a little tighter, as he nuzzled his nose into the thick of your hair and inhaled deeply, catching the scent of peach-and-lavender shampoo that the stylist had used on you. “And you smell amazing too- so lovely and beautiful.” 

 Laughing softly, you roped your arms around his neck, yanking his face close to yours and gently kissing him once more, “Thanks, and… I think the new style is growing on me too.” 

 A bright smile cracked across Minho’s lips at your confession, “Good- I’m glad… my baby girl deserves to feel comfortable and confident in her skin, no matter what hairstyle she has.” 

 There you guys stood, in that empty, dark side street, late one Wednesday evening, basking in each other’s presence. Holding onto each other for dear life, melting into one another’s grasps and kisses and precious touches. 

 Maybe you weren’t the best at voicing your opinion in times of distress, 

 And maybe you still hadn’t gotten over your fear of the salon, 

 But at the end of the day, none of those things mattered. 

 What mattered most was that you had Minho always by your side - your continual support, your continual voice of reason, your continual love, 

 Always there, whenever you need him the most. 

 Fin.

taglist: want to be added onto my taglist so that you always get notified when i post a new work? well then, comment below on this post/reblog it, and indicate your interest in my taglist and i'll add you... or, you can simply send me a msg and request to be added that way~

© ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

[loveletterstoeverything]

on smelling the flowers

Walk One

My dog takes great pleasure in our evening walks. I have not always felt the same. Our walks, historically, go like this: she pulls on her leash, and I follow behind doom scrolling social media on my phone. The heat of the evening feels oppressive, the breeze hot and taunting. She is happy, and I think only of getting back inside to lay down in the AC. She insists on smelling every fallen fruit and darts after bugs with joy. I endure.

On one of our very first walks together, Daisy rolls on her back, feet in the air, happier than I have ever seen her. I pull out my phone to take a quick video of her joy, feeling it rise in my chest as well, until my nose catches up with the situation. My dog, finally out of the shy shelter dog phase, has rolled in feces. Any joy I felt is lost in the realization that I will now need to wash a three legged dog who hates bath time and that I might be late to work because of it. Daisy, despite being covered in shit, seems to be even happier. 

I envy my dog for her seemingly natural propensity for joy, especially in the face of hard times. I brought her home 10 days after she lost her hind leg to a car accident, her side still scraped and scarred from the pavement. And yet the first moment we met she came bouncing over, sat in my lap and licked my face. She was sniffing flowers with her entire cone in the bushes, tail wagging like nothing bad had ever happened to her. Could I ever do the same?

In church I grew up hearing that happiness was a feeling, but joy is a choice. To a 17-year-old with severe depression, this sounded like bullshit shared to shift the blame of our pain from God to ourselves. I spent my life with a clenched fist, nails digging into my palm, enduring what the church might claim was God’s plan for my life. Expressing unhappiness was met each time with a smile and a condemnation: happiness is a feeling, joy is a choice; your feelings don’t matter, do a better job at getting rid of them. Truthfully, I still believe that this mantra was shared with the purpose of absolving the Almighty of any hand in our affliction, though I have found meaning of my own in them since.

Walk Two

My favorite time to walk with my dog is right before the sun fully sets, when the heat has started to seep out of the concrete and dissipate into the air but it hasn’t quite become dark yet. We walk along the fence of our complex, where bushes of purple flowers bloom when it rains. My sweet dog, with her flopping ears and wagging tail, has always believed in smelling every single flower for as long as necessary. I, with my allegedly important life, believe in shorter, functional walks. I believed that feeling joy and that noticing the beauty of this world and this life was something I could only achieve through time and medication and luck. 

I want to be clear: medication is for many (and certainly for me) a prerequisite to study and participate in joy. But I thought medicine would be magic. I was disappointed to discover that it functions more as a life jacket than a cruise ship. I wanted joy to happen to me, and I was frustrated to find that all the mood stabilizers and anxiety meds in the world wouldn’t bestow immediate happiness upon me. 

But here was this dog sniffing flowers. 

Why could I make hours of time for things that made me miserable but not take these ten minutes to be present, outside, a spectator to my dog’s delight? Why was I so annoyed when our walks would take longer while she took the time to smell every fallen olive from the trees, as if each would be a brand new scent? Maybe they are to her. Maybe each sniff makes her heart feel lighter, more excited to go to the next, the way I read books when I was young and joy was easy. Maybe if I stood here with her, I could learn her secret to happiness. 

Walk Three

I think Daisy knew what all dogs innately know: to experience joy we must choose to participate in it. Every walk, she knows to smell everything in reach of her nose: pink and purple flowers, a grasshopper before it leaps away, even the occasional snake. I wish I could say it only took one or even a handful of walks for my perspective to change. But it took years of walks (and of therapy, and of finding the right balance of medication) before anything clicked. Walking a dog is consistent; it requires intentionality and participation. Joy is similar. 

We cannot choose the perfect set of conditions to experience joy any more than we can make flowers bloom, but we can choose to seek all those places where the conditions are right for it. And when they do bloom, soft orange petals bursting open to the light, dirt still soft from the rain, we can choose to give into it. When we are consistent in looking for where our heart finds joy, in noticing where that little pull in our chest whispers “pay attention”, we can choose to experience that joy fully. 

Daisy reframed joy and happiness for me. Happiness is a feeling, yes – one of the many across the spectrum I can experience and express fully and with no shame. And joy is a choice; even when I might be covered in shit from my roll on the grass, I can choose to feel joy that I am alive, joy that there is grass to roll in, joy to not have a cone around my neck any longer. Daisy would.

On our walks now, when Daisy smells a flower, I smell one too. The yellow ones make me sneeze, and the purple ones smell a little like feet to me, but each time I breathe in the flowers with my dog I find myself smiling and marveling at what it is to be alive. Daisy rolls in the dirt, and even though a part of me wishes to pull her back to avoid trying to de-mud a 3-legged dog who hates baths, I take off my shoes and jump in puddles with her. I laugh and her tail wags and I realize that this is the way we choose joy. 

[wooismyuniverse]

his muse ch. 3

pairing: collegeau!lee jihoon x reader

genre: slice of life, fluff, strangers to best friends to lovers

word count: 1.4k

ch. synopsis: in which it’s (y/n)’s recital day and jihoon’s realization of his feelings

a/n: this is a rather short one, but i enjoy writing these small moments so that we get to know the character’s personalities more. enjoy!

___

“best of luck on your performance!”

“you got this!”

“it’s gonna be okay.”

these words of encouragement from (y/n)’s friends are the only things keeping her sane right now. it’s the day of her recital, and any normal person would feel nervous. she and jihoon were backstage, about to perform in ten minutes.

even if she enjoyed the nervousness, she still feels scared. she’s had performing experience before, but the anxiety is starting to overwhelm her. what if i mess up? what if my friends think i’m a bad player? this anxiety eventually turns into fear, something that she hasn’t felt in a long time.

these nerves must have been obvious to jihoon, because he stands next to her and takes her hand in his. he squeezes it lightly. this action would have caught her off guard in any other scenario. but the performance anxiety was just too strong and clouded those current emotions. instead, it’s comforting and exactly what she needed at the moment.

“nervous, yeah?” he asks.

“who wouldn’t be? it’s scary that i’ll be performing really soon,” she confesses.

“whatever you’re thinking, just remember to have fun and relax. take some deep breaths,” he says softly. she turns to look at him and smiles nervously. he smiles back, hoping to relieve her in any way. he wishes to fight those fears for her because she was so patient with him throughout the semester.

“yeah.. yeah,” she takes a deep breath slowly. her heartbeat accelerates as the time is ticking, and her breaths aren’t helping. “relax.. i don’t know. it’s been so long since i’ve played in front of people. in front of my friends!”

“i know, but doesn’t that excite you too? isn’t this what you were talking about?” he was referring to their past conversations. (y/n)’s eyes widened in realization. it’s a sign that he actually cares to listen and remember their conversations.

“it does! but.. if i mess up, then i’ll feel terrible. like i’m an awful player and shouldn’t be on stage.” her tone was uncertain, frail, completely different from thirty minutes ago. it triggers jihoon—

“don’t say that,” he lets go of her hand and grabs her shoulders, facing straight at (y/n). he was glaring at her, looking offended at why she would even think like that. it almost intimidated her if she didn’t know him too well. “you are a good player. don’t let your anxiety take over you.”

she stares into his eyes before nodding slowly, placing her hands over his. she takes another breath. “okay.”

his glare softens. “you’ve helped me go through so much this past semester, and i want to do the same for you.”

“i know, jihoon.”

“we practiced together so much, and i think your playing is beautiful. messing up? it’s what makes you normal, and i think there’s also beauty in that. just remember to-“

“have fun.” she finishes for him. five minutes until the show starts, and (y/n) feels herself slowly relaxing. she takes one last breath before letting his hands go and asks. “can i please have a hug before we go?”

jihoon blinks at the sudden question. it must be the anxiety, he thinks. he’s not one to outwardly give physical affection like that. sure, they would do small motions for support. but they have never hugged because he feels awkward, and she usually senses this from his unapproachable nature. despite that, he nods and slowly opens his arms up for her.

(y/n) wraps her arms around him and immediately sighs into his body. it was rather tight at first, but their bodies both start to relax together. warm— jihoon’s body is so warm, and she feels safe in his arms. the negative thoughts start to dissipate and the only thing holding her together right now is this embrace.

“thank you,” she whispers in his ear. “for the encouragement.”

jihoon feels his face slowly turn red from her warm breath. although he’s not used to physical affection, it felt quite nice to him. even though he’s not the main person performing, he still feels his small nervousness disappear as well.

“a piano accompanist is just as, if not more, important than the main performer.” (y/n) had once said during their rehearsals together.

“no, thank you. you’re going to do great out there.”

“so are you. i wouldn’t be on stage right now if you didn’t accompany me.”

after what felt like an eternity, she lets go first. immediately she felt emptiness as she lets go, missing the warmth that radiated jihoon. the stage staff gives them a minute warning and (y/n) feels a lot better now. they both head to the stage and began to showcase their musical talents together.

the moment they stepped on stage, (y/n) could see almost all of svt sitting on the front rows. they were obviously the loud ones, cheering and clapping for their two favorite people in the world. they both bow together and jihoon walks to sit in front of the the piano.

just have fun.

(y/n) and jihoon make eye contact before starting on their first passage together.

the performance anxiety immediately disappears right when they started to play together, instead getting replaced by compassion and confidence. jihoon notices the change in demeanor based on the kind of tone (y/n) was playing.

rather than the frail and shallow tone in the difficult passage he was used to hearing, he instead hears a full and powerful tone. he smiles softly at the approach, and matches with her tone as he accompanies her.

“i love that each day, i’m constantly learning something new about music.”

jihoon finds himself admiring her even more as they perform together. she has been nothing but kind and supportive to him in school, allowing him to slowly yet surely open up to her. and now, to see her passion flowing through these musical notes makes that a cherry on top.

he then realizes that the emotions that he’s feeling, it’s not just admiration. but it’s also adoration and love. he loves listening to her stories. he loves that she is patient and understanding towards him. he loves and appreciates everything about her the moment she came into his life.

she was the one that approached him first, breaking his persona of being called “unapproachable” and “cold-hearted”. she was the one to help him with his writer’s blocks, giving insight on her ideas in music. she was the one that stuck with him in classes and never made him feel left out.

it’s at this moment that he realizes that he’s in love with her.

playing the final chord of their last piece, (y/n) dramatically pulls her bow off of the violin string. she was drenched with sweat from performing, panting heavily. but the audience began to clap and roar in celebration. jihoon gets up from his chair and stands next to (y/n). he held her hand again and they bowed together before leaving the stage. the audience still was so loud from the clapping that they went back on stage for an encore.

she looks at her svt friends fondly and gives them the widest grin. seungkwan was holding back tears as he was clapping. seokmin and soonyoung were obviously the loud ones cheering and screaming for their close friends. jeonghan and joshua were holding up a poster dedicated to them. the rest of them were all clapping and waving, absolutely moved by what they have witnessed.

“you did so well, (y/n),” jihoon says for only her to hear. “look at the people who came out to support you. they loved it! i’m.. we’re all so proud of you.”

(y/n) slowly starts to feel her tears well up as they bowed together one last time before going backstage. she couldn’t believe that just happened to her. this experience right now is a reminder of why she loved performing. thanks to jihoon, her svt friends, classmates, and professors..

they are the ones that shaped her to become a musician. through their guidance and support, she wouldn’t have imagined her first recital in seoul university in any other way. she gives jihoon another quick hug, to which he flushes and hugs back.

“i cannot thank you enough for accompanying me!” she says.

“it’s nothing. the least i could do for you.”

“how was it, seriously? how did i sound?”

“i told you, you did so well. your tone was beautiful today. i could tell the adrenaline made you sound confident,” he smiles warmly at her. she lets go of him and instead grabs his hand, tilting her head towards the door backstage.

“now let’s celebrate with a post-recital dinner, shall we?” she winks at him. he flushes and nods at her, and they leave backstage together to celebrate with their friends.

pt. 2 | pt. 4 |

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

"Okay, don't admit to anything. Don't say anything and for the love of god, no magic. We don't want this to be any worse than it has to be."

Roman stood, watching the door with anxiety. Once the drama surrounding Theo's magical collapse had dissipated, word had come from Pleasantview that a magical review would be taking place. The magical academy that educated Theo was sending a representative to satisfy the Maricourt family. Apparently, Theo and Adam's experiment with blood magic had caused alarm to both the Darktides and Maricourts in Pleasantview and the school needed to investigate the situation to placate their fears.

Roman wasn't sure what the consequences could be, but there was no way that he was letting Theo get expelled from school because he made Adam's parents uncomfortable. He had fed and driven and tolerated his son's boyfriend, and if Adam's parents were going to judge Theo, Roman would put an end to all of that. The Maricourts may be rich and powerful, but he was still the Bellamy heir, and the son of a powerful demon lineage. He had his own thoughts about the situation and wouldn't hesitate to share them with the Maricourt family.

Abe felt similarly. They weren't as rich as the Maricourts, but he was still Elaine's son, and Lucy's brother. Both women would burn down Pleasantview before Theo could be hurt. Just let the Maricourts try their luck with the Helios family, the Helioses could hold their own.

"I hope Adrian is getting through to them," Roman murmured. "I mean, he's related to the Maricourt bloodline somehow, which has to count for something. And you're sure that Adam's mother lives in Twikkii Island? I've seen the gossip magazines place her in Strangetown, and more specifically with the Strangetown royal family. Do we have any way of dealing with the Strangetown royals? Did Lucy find any dirt on them?"

"Adam's mom isn't going to come after us," Theo grumbled. "Adam loves me, and I helped him produce the Maricourt Staff. They should be thanking me."

"Theo, you're too young and idealistic to understand the complexities of rich families," Roman snapped. "Given the school you attend, I don't know why that is, but you're being naive. You performed binding magic on the son of Pleasantview's magical leader! I don't even know what his mother does because no one seems to think that I have the clearance to know! These people are dangerous, Theo. My grandfather was a master manipulator, and just keeping me in their fancy school was too much for him. Everyone is playing their own game, and their plans may cost you your life."

Theo scowled, still unconvinced about his father's view of Adam's family.

"His mom works for the government. One of the governments anyway. She does a lot of paperwork."

"Mmm. That's not exactly reassuring."

A shower of sparkles glimmered in the front yard, revealing three figures.

"Adam!"

"Theo!"

"Evren? Where's the academy's representative?"

Adrian beamed proudly.

"I managed to get Evren nominated for the role," he boasted. "He's a more neutral candidate, given that he's from an alternate world in the past, and practices alternate approaches to magical energy."

"He's also Theo's stepfather more or less," Abe pointed out. "They were okay with that?"

"Of course," Adrian scoffed, looking offended. "I'm a master negotiator. Some of us actually graduated boarding school, you know." He smiled teasingly at Roman. "You know how persuasive I can be."

"Gross." Theo wrinkled his nose in disgust. Adam looked like he was doing the same, which only made Theo love him more. They were always so in sync with each other.

"What did the academy say? Are they involving the council? The Strangetown monarchy?" Abe demanded, ignoring his son's revulsion with parental flirting. "Do I need to call my sister?"

Evren and Adrian shared a tired look.

"Let's go inside."

"So, no one thinks that the spell was cast maliciously," Evren began.

He tried to continue his sentence, but Roman was incensed. Evren had expected this reaction eventually, but he'd hoped he would have more time before Roman exploded with raw parental concern.

"Maliciously? Why? Why would anyone assume that my son would have sinister intentions for the kid he's been obsessed with for years? Is it because he's a demon? Is this bigotry the official stance of the school that the leader of all demons supports? Do I need to call Lucy?"

Abe placed a steadying hand on his husband's shoulder.

"Ro, why don't you let Evren talk? I'm sure we can sort this all out without involving lawyers and the Sovereign. Plus, I'm pretty sure that the kids can hear you in the other room. It's probably best that we keep this adults only for now. You know how Theo tends to get riled up whenever we even mention Adam. He's a lot like his father."

"No, seriously. Why do they think Theo's ruined their precious family?" Roman demanded. "If anything, Adam's tempted away the Bellamy heir from his future duties and role. All Theo talks about now is magic and the Maricourts and how he's going to grow up to be anywhere other than Arkhelios. I think they should apologize to us."

"Roman, I was apprenticed under Roegus Maricourt for years," Evren interrupted, giving Adrian a pointed look. "He may have been the Roegus of an alternate time and universe, but there is truth to the Maricourt family's power. They command magic no one else can and can bend the laws of magic to their will. You don't want to piss them off, trust me. The Strangetown coven has links to demigods and rulers of time and the Pleasantview coven...it's best not to speculate on their abilities."

"Rien and I can read cards just fine," Roman pouted, causing Abe to sigh beside him. "We have advantages too, you know. Theo's no Maricourt and look what he can do."

"It's not a contest," Abe groaned. "And that's just what they're afraid of. It sounds like they're afraid of Theo tapping into their power and toppling their balance of power over the world."

"Hmph."

While Roman sulked, Abe focused his gaze on Evren.

"They should be afraid of him," Abe said with confidence. "They've been ruling this world for centuries and one little demon hybrid is making them worry. Our son is exceptional and they know it."

Adam stood frozen in place, afraid to move lest Theo's little sisters pounce on him. They were as ruthless as attack dogs, sensing vulnerability in their big brother's relationship with his boyfriend. Theo was in trouble at school and with Adam's family and suddenly here was his boyfriend standing in their living room, looking suspicious and holding something behind him. Something was about to happen and both Rien and Fiolett weren't about to miss the drama.

"I think he's going to propose," Rien said excitedly. "Their love is forbidden and they're going to run away together, just like in the stories."

"Nothing is forbidden," Adam stammered, trying his best to ignore the giggling girls behind him. "It's just a misunderstanding. No one is running away."

"They're pregnant then," Fiolett concluded. "That's why our parents are all talking together. They're trying to decide what to do about it. Probably planning a wedding."

Adam's face flushed with embarrassment, while Theo cringed beside him.

"Would you two go away?" he shouted, flailing his arms for emphasis. "You don't know what you're talking about! My life isn't like one of your stupid gossip magazines. Leave us alone!"

Theo's anger only made the girls snicker harder. Clearly, he couldn't have a private moment with his boyfriend as long as they were following him around. He smirked, thinking about the different methods he could use to get some privacy. Rien was older than Fiolett and gifted with some intuitive understanding of magic. Fiolett had a magical father and likely some abilities of her own, but she lacked the foundation to use those abilities.

With a quick snap of his fingers, Theo opened a portal beneath his sisters and watched as they fell helplessly through it. They'd fall safely onto their beds upstairs where the door was now locked, giving their brother a brief moment alone with Adam.

"Thank god they're gone," Theo laughed, imagining the frustrated looks on his sisters' faces. "Now we can talk alone...or at least until my parents make their decisions. You don't really think that they'll make us break up, do you? I mean, I won't let them break us up, but they can make me change schools or something like that. I don't want to change schools."

"We're not breaking up," Adam promised, gripping the small box in his hand tightly. "My parents could never make that happen. Besides, they have Remy to worry about and a royal wedding to plan for Miruna and Elowen's bad grades. I'm the well-behaved kid, so I get less parental interference."

"It must be nice," Theo grumbled to himself. "I have a million siblings, but my parents are determined to plan out my life for me."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," Adam replied, flushing a little while planning out his next words. "I...I got you something that might help remind you of that fact."

Theo's eyes locked onto the mysterious box in Adam's hand, suddenly obsessed with unlocking its secrets. He took the box from his boyfriend gingerly, not wanting to ruin the moment by dropping it.

It was light, and it didn't rattle around when he shook the box slightly. It was thrilling to guess what it could be. Theo wanted this moment to last forever.

Theo gasped when the lid lifted and revealed his gift. A small, clear crystal was mounted on a ring, shining in the sun.

"A ring? You're giving me a ring? I can't believe it!"

"It's not expensive," Adam quickly pointed out. "I didn't have a lot of money to work with, but I grew the crystal myself. The Crystal Cove witches helped me with it. You know the necklace you were always wearing when we met? The one that would help you focus your abilities that you mastered in an afternoon?"

Theo nodded eagerly. That necklace had been made to block his powers as a child and force him to train his powers responsibly. As Adam said, it hadn't taken Theo long to break through its binding at all. He still had it in his drawer at home, though he hardly ever wore it. He hadn't needed training wheels for his abilities in years.

He closed his eyes for an instant, trying to mentally poke the object before him. For an instant, Theo had a frightening thought that Adam was reacting to the incident between them by trying to squash his abilities. He didn't think that Adam was like that, as he had always encouraged Theo to be himself in all the years that they'd known each other, but it was still a worry that felt like it had some merit. Nothing seemed to be amiss with the crystal before him though, so Theo tried to push the thought from his mind.

"This should help you better than that necklace did," Adam explained, worried about Theo's hesitation. "It doesn't block out your abilities at all, but it filters things a bit. The light inside of it is supposed to protect you from shadows and spirits and curses. I talked with Master Toyonaga, and he said it should help you with what's left of your curse. It can't get rid of it completely, but it's supposed to help keep it from interfering with your magic. Maybe."

"You made this? You made this for me?"

Theo was suddenly immensely relieved that his nosey sisters were nowhere near him. He wasn't sure, but he thought his heart might be dangerously swelling in his chest to the point of exploding. Adam had made him a crystal to help him, to show him how much he cared about him.

"I love it!" Theo exclaimed, grabbing Adam's hand excitedly and engulfing him in a kiss. "It's amazing! How long did it take you to make this?"

Adam shrugged modestly, leaning into Theo's embrace.

"A couple days. Not that long, really. It took a few hours for it to set, and then Master Toyonaga double-checked it for me. It really does glow sometimes; I had one made when I was a kid and was afraid of monsters. Miruna taught me how."

"It's incredible, I'm never going to take it off," Theo promised. A thought suddenly occurred to him. "You have a million crystals and now you've grown this one for me. Do...do you think that you want to switch covens when we're older? You seem to really like the Crystal Cove coven."

Adam flinched just thinking of his parents' reaction to that idea.

"I don't think that's possible," he replied carefully. "My choice is between Dad's Pleasantview coven and Mom's Strangetown coven and that's about it. The Crystal Cove coven is an international joke and my mom has bad blood with several of the leaders. I'm too important to throw my life away, apparently. I don't feel all that important, but it's out of my hands. It's just like you and the Demon Sovereign. Do you think that she's going to let you choose your path in life after everything she's invested in your education?"

Theo was quiet for a moment. It was hard not to agree with Adam, especially now that their parents were speaking to council representatives over the spell they had chosen to cast together. What did it matter if Adam wanted to choose a coven that was "below his rank"? Why should Theo be asking the Maricourts for permission to do magic with their son? The whole thing wasn't fair.

"Theo! Evren needs to talk to you. Come in here and bring Adam."

Theo grabbed his boyfriend's hand, while still admiring the new ring on his finger.

"Come on, let's go hear what they have to say," he groaned. "I bet that I'm at least grounded at this point, possibly suspended at school. You'll probably do okay though. I'm just a bad influence on you."

Adam smiled.

"Trust me, I'd much rather report to your parents instead of mine. Being grounded is nothing compared to mandatory coven responsibilities."

"Theo! We don't have all day here!"

Theo rolled his eyes and squeezed Adam's hand.

"We're coming, geez. Don't have a fit."

[south-of-heaven]

marrying natayla?

Bad luck || Natalya Neidhart x Reader

Summary: You know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. When a sudden wave of anxiety hits you, the only person who can calm you down is Nattie.

The anticipation hangs heavy in the air as the big day approaches. The wedding venue is a flurry of activity, and you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The nervousness that has been building suddenly hits you like a tidal wave, and with it comes the familiar churning in your stomach. You know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, but in this moment, there's only one person who can ease the turmoil inside you.

With your heart racing, you push aside the well-meaning advice of your friends and follow your instinct. The door to the room where Natalya and her bridesmaids are getting ready looms before you. Without a second thought, you burst through the door, a mixture of urgency and vulnerability in your eyes.

The room falls silent as all eyes turn to you. The bridesmaids exchange surprised glances, but your focus is solely on Nattie. Her gaze locks with yours, and in that moment, everything else fades away. You can see the concern in her eyes, mirrored by the affectionate smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Nattie," you breathe, your voice tinged with both anxiety and longing.

Without hesitation, she crosses the room to reach you, her steps purposeful and reassuring. Her arms wrap around you, drawing you into a warm embrace that feels like a lifeline. The scent of her perfume and the softness of her touch envelop you, calming the storm of emotions within.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," she murmurs against your hair, her voice a soothing balm. "Take a deep breath, sweetheart."

You follow her guidance, inhaling deeply and allowing her presence to anchor you. Nattie's hands move to your shoulders, her touch gentle yet grounding.

"I know it's bad luck," you admit, your voice wavering slightly. "But I needed to see you. I needed you."

Natalya's fingers tilt your chin upward, meeting your gaze with a tender look. "You're my everything, you know that?"

The sincerity in her eyes resonates deep within you, filling the space that anxiety had occupied. Despite the bustling energy of the wedding preparations around you, it's as if the two of you exist in a bubble of shared understanding.

"I love you," she says softly, her words a promise that transcends the nervousness of the day.

A small smile tugs at your lips as she presses a sweet kiss to your forehead. "I love you too, Nat."

In that moment, as you stand in each other's arms, you realize that the strength of your bond is stronger than any superstition. Natalya's presence is your sanctuary, the touchstone that brings you back to a place of calm and reassurance.

As the minutes tick by, you feel the tension gradually dissipate, replaced by a renewed sense of determination. You know that the day ahead is going to be filled with moments of both joy and nerves, but with Nattie by your side, there's nothing you can't overcome.

[marvelsimp]

The New Kid: The Future

Ch. 9

The New Kid Masterlist

My Masterlist

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Fix-it, Self-Insert, Pairing: Peter & Lesbian!reader, Avengers & Reader, Wanda x Reader, background Steve x Bucky, Shuri x reader if you squint Warnings: swearing, talk of dead loved ones, Description: Some Wakandans come for a visit. Reader’s Powers: Healer, telepath, and empath. Word Count: 1473

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” mumbled the billionaire. You jumped out of your seat because usually that meant that his hand was about to be cut off. “What?” He raised his head and stared at me with wide eyes, “I fucking forgot!” You paused, “Forgot what?” “That king is coming tomorrow !” He stared at me with dread. After pulling himself off of his metaphorical ledge he quickly came to a stopping point, yelled instructions at FRIDAY, and frantically ran to the stairs. “Y/n, clean up and get out!” he yelled while trying not to trip and fall.

“Good luck!” you yelled. Since Thanos came Wakanda and the Avengers have been working together to maintain global peace. From your knowledge Tony’s only physical interaction with any of them was when Wakanda’s King T’Chaka was killed and their then prince joined his side to stop half of the other Avengers…. so you assumed that Tony was feeling pretty intimidated. And that’s from the guy who turned a weapons company to one the produces clean energy that has made the threat of Climate Change almost dissipate. But you of course know that Pepper did all of the heavy lifting while Tony created an AI who almost destroyed the world. Okay…. now that you think about it he probably has a good reason to be scared that he’s gonna fuck this up.

“I’ve heard she’s nice,” Peter poked while you both got dressed. “…and incredibly smart, I'm sure smarter than your dumbass” you teased. He groaned and rolled his neck. “Come on, you know what I mean,” his eyebrows wiggled. You finished tucking in your blouse only sighing in response. He stared at you, wiggling his eyebrows a little harder. Hoping for a reaction. “You’re an ass,” you stared back, “And I’m not even out to anyone here anyways.” “Why do you think I got you that flag?” his voice went up at the end, slightly cracking. “Fuck off,” you retorted grining from ear to ear. He flipped you off and then tripped over some shoes on the floor. “For someone who has the Peter Tingle,” you reached your hand out to help him up, “you sure are clumsy.” “It doesn’t work on shoes,” he said, accepting your hand. “Excuse me,” the AI voice rang overhead. You both jumped with Peter screaming, “OH GOD.” “Yes?” you giggled. “The Wakandans are soon to arrive. Mr. Stark said and I quote ‘If you don’t get your asses up here in the next 5 minutes you're not allowed to work in the lab for a month.’ So I would recommend that you head up soon.” “Thanks,” you said to the voice. You turned to Peter and grinned, “I’ll race you to the elevator.”

“Calm down,” the brunette whispered, nudging you. Excitement. “I am calm.” “I can literally feel the anxiety radiating off of you… wait is that a part of your powers?” You paused, staring at him, “I. Dont. Think. So?” “Hmph. Fair enough. I didn’t find out about…” “The Peter Tingle,” you teased, interrupting. “Until forever later,” he said in monotone, not impressed. “Hey,” said a voice behind you, Wanda, you'd know her anywhere. You felt her lightly touch your elbow, grabbing your attention away from your slightly grumpy best friend. You smiled, “Hi.” Her cheeks lit up, “Are you excited to meet them? They’re nice, and Shuri’s intelligence compares to yours so I think you will like her.” You followed her every word, nodding in response. Panic. “I haven’t seen them since…um…” She paused, that was a common occurrence, she’d either be making sure you were paying attention or collecting her thoughts. This was different, quiet. Almost like she was afraid to say it. Oh. Thanos. “Him,” you completed. She nodded, it's only been a year and a half since then so most wounds aren’t fully healed. Lives were lost… Loves were lost. You pushed the topic away, that was something you could think about at another time, the Avenger’s main priority for the day was to get the Wakandans’ settled before tomorrow night’s party. You’d be able to meet more of the Avengers. The next thing you know, a ship lands in the loading dock. It's very futuristic, even for Avengers standards. It’s definitely the coolest thing you’ve seen in person. When it landed, it opened, it sort of made you think of the cave in Aladdin. It was very dramatic. First, three women stepped out, warriors. You know that Wakanda has an elite force of female warriors, which is badass. You can’t remember their name. Then, the king steps out, King T’Challa. He’s calm, happy. He and his companions walk up to Tony and Steve. He first fakes a formal greeting then gives them both hugs, like old friends. Which you are pretty sure they are at this point. God, the warriors are honestly terrifying, and they radiate it too. Some seem slightly bored but most of them are on high alert and you are confident that they can defeat any threat that may appear. “Slow down brother,” a voice yelled from the ship. A skinny, dark skinned woman appeared from the ship's entrance. “I had not even noticed that we had arrived and you are already greeting everyone!” One of the warriors stared at her, she radiated a different type of authority from the others, a stronger type. “I told you that we were about to land five minutes ago,” she spoke in a hushed tone, still trying to be formal, although both the King and the woman who you are now assuming is Princess Shuri. “Well, excuse me but I was doing something important, Okoye!” stated the Princess who was obviously teasing. “I would not call ‘Tiktok’ important.” “I’m doing research on American culture, Peter told me it was the best way to know what people my age do here.” Shuri was walking in your and Peter’s direction now, not caring to actually look your way though. Anxiety. Peter started to say something but decided not to. The girl was now three feet infront of the boy. She stopped for a moment, finishing typing something. “I thought that you didn’t know her,” you whispered. “We text,” the boy shrugged. Oh, they're called the Dora Milaje! The woman finally put her phone away and looked up at Peter. Grins slowly grew on their faces. Joy. “Now, Doctor Spider, what are your latest accomplishments?” Shuri said in a posh british accent, trying her best not to laugh. “Well, I have worked on many projects since we last met, possibly I could show you?” he replied, sounding like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. The two linked elbows and started to turn to leave. “Don’t burn down the lab!” Tony instructed in a fatherly tone. Doctor Spider paused for a moment, nodded his head and linked his other elbow into yours. You in return linked yours with Wanda’s.

“Peter, this is brilliant!” The Princess exclaimed. “But it could still use some improvements. If I gave you some vibranium for these connections, your whole suit would run that much smoother. I mean.. it would run better if we only used vibranium but that’s not going to happen. I believe there is some available vibranium in my lab–we can do it now or later.” Peter nodded, maybe a little too excitedly and started collecting his suit to take it to the other lab. “Sorry, Wanda, with all of this science talk. It looks like it’s all going over your head.” Shuri grimiced. “No, no, I’ve actually started to enjoy it.” She looked at you for a split second and you could swear your heart stopped beating. “I don’t always understand it but it almost sounds like a spell so it's familiar. Vis used to ramble on about these things to me not much unlike Y/n does.” “I’m glad I don’t bore you when I bring you up here,” you smirked. “So, Y/n,” Shuri started. “What are you doing here? I know you’re Peter’s friend and your intelligence almost rivals mine. But you,” she waved her hand in the general direction of the three of you, “tend to have tragic backstories. Most are orphans” Shaw gave an awkward glance towards Peter and Wanda. “Are you an orphan too?” She glared. “I’m joking!” In a split second her demeanor changed. “That was way too personal wasn’t it” She whispered, looking at Peter. He nodded. “Excuse me,” F.R.I.D.A.Y interrupted. Causing you to jump. “Miss Maximoff, Agent Romanoff has requested your presence in the conference room immediately.” “I’ll head that way,” Wanda responded. “I have to go. I will… see you later.” She squeezed your hand and left. “Can we go to your lab?” Peter almost squealed out with excitement, his suit now in his hands.

Taglist:

@wandas-lovey @xoxmariaxoxh @captainam-erika-trash @slytheringalathynius @wiccanlesbians @mary-wolf04 @musicalraven100 @missloveii @shalessathleteoperatoad @zealouspalacecopgiant-blog

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

Note: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! I'm not dead! I finally finished this chapter while avoiding family. I hope yall like it. It's a pretty chill chapter, much like the weather lol

[loveyoutumbler75]

Don’t you Hate When That Happens?

hunter angst w darius & raine saving his life WE LOVE TO IT

AO3 link at the end

WARNINGS//

Blood, Minor violence (hes stabbed a little), Puking

.

..

…

He’d failed again. Third time in a row this week, he had failed another mission. None of them were close to being difficult, Hunter was just having the worst of luck and no one was working with his schedule so things that did go correctly on happened 3 hours late. It was enough to set him at constant unease. The first two times he’d failed, Belos was kind enough to go easy on him, but the third time was pushing a limit.

Belos’s skin was bubbling, wavering between a sickly pale and a dark mud-green. Hunter knew what was to come. The anxiety and fear grew as Belos formed to an amalgamation of witch and monster. His mind was running too fast with so many emotions that he hadn’t been able to put together a single coherent or worded thought. A whirlwind of petrified scare, worsening stress, and so many other feelings he didn’t quite have the vocabulary to title spun in his mind.

He didn’t even recognize the fact he had dropped his staff and started backing away until his heel hit a wall, which cued a reaction to hurriedly look back, to confirm if it truly was a wall or another danger he’d have to worry about. The split second he looked back was enough of an open for Belos, which he took as a thrash with a spike-formed arm towards Hunter, slicing into the side of his torso.

Immediately a deep red pooled from the gash, puddling through his undershirt and staining the white cloak he wore. The most of a reaction he had was a whimper as he moved to feel the open wound.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to do it; because he knows better than to try and run, but at the sight of seeing Belos reel his far-too-sharp limb back to prepare for another hit, his hands reached back, scrambling on the wall in search for a door handle, a desperate attempt to find an escape.

Titan must truly have a plan for him, because the instant he found the door and swung it open just enough to squeeze through the gap, a loud bang slammed into the door as he forced it to close. A series of louder, heavier bangs and a monstrous roar emitted from the either side of the wall, he knew better than to stand there.

Running through the halls and far, far away from the throne room, he barely gave himself a moment to look in front of him, head turned just enough to send darting glances behind himself as he dashed past the occasional guard.

He doesn’t know how far he got when he stumbled into someone, falling to the floor as he finally stopped to look up and saw an agitated Darius and a surprised Raine beside him.

“ Hunter—“ A face of annoyance dissipated to concern as he noticed the absolute fear that expressed itself on Hunter’s face. He was gasping for air with tear tracks running down his cheeks, eyes still glossy and overall self rumpled and messy.

“Oh my Titan— his side! ” Raine saw the blood faster than Darius did, all three of them turning their attention to his side. Hunter moved to his knees, shifting off his cloak and lifting the tunic just enough to see the laceration that gushed a consistent stream of crimson. Hunter’s body must’ve caught up enough to form a reaction, because not only did he sob and begin crying harder, he puked a disgusting shade of yellow, which made home to the gathering collection of stains on his cape. His thoughts burned, and the adrenaline had faded, so the pain he was supposed to feel around 10 minutes earlier was now searing.

“Hunter— lay down and put as much pressure as you can on it.” doing as told, he brought his hands to his side and forced himself to stiffly lay down, his face grimaced with pain as he did. Darius wormed his arms under Hunter’s legs and back to pick him up, sprinting as fast as he could without jostling the other. “Darius—“ “ What?” His tone came off far angrier than intended, but there wasn’t any anger at all. Stress of the currently bleeding-out teen in his arms must’ve effected how he sounded, but it was still enough for Hunter to shut up. Which, to Darius, who was too focused on getting seemed like he’d passed out because of the sudden silence.

The worry of that fueled his speed.

[liecoris]

@kismetkiss sent in:

Satan had gotten thoroughly lectured for the time he had threatened Mukuro after she'd score higher than him on an exam. He wasn't told who had sold him out, but he knew well enough Mukuro hadn't opened her mouth. Remembering her expression when he was hurting her absolutely delighted him. She certainly stood by her word of not applying herself anymore. Satan truthfully wanted to see how much more he could push her, how much more he could instill a sense of hopelessness in her. He may pay the consequences for it in the long run, having Lucifer tell him to stop messing with the exchange student but…. The excitement was all too good to care about that now. Well, for one Satan did notice she seemed to always keep her back covered when she wasn't in uniform. Which was a bit weird given the type of clothing she wears. What was it about her back...? Was she hiding something....? Well, he had a plan to figure that out. They'd bump into each other at the library, to which Satan decided to do a complete 180 from how he was with her before. "Why hello there Mukuro. I see we had a similar idea on where to hang out today." He said smiling. A perfectly crafted act of his. "I suppose this would be a good time to apologize, huh? About before. I suppose I really lost my cool over something that really wasn't all that significant." Lies came one after the other, though sounded genuinely sincere. He'd look a little embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head as he glanced away for a moment. "Would…. a hug by any chance make up for it?" He goes ahead and wrapped his arms around her without really giving Mukuro much of a choice. Arms hugged her tightly. Maybe even enough to crush her bones if he wasn't careful. That's when his little facade finally fell, and he used a type of fire magic to burn her back. That's when he broke the hug. He couldn't help laughing, "As if I'd actually apologize to someone as pathetic as you. The only thing you should look forward to is suffering. Since that's what I plan on putting you through until you go back to the human world." He'd grab her and have her shoved face first against the wall, "Now, now. There won't be any fun if you're completely burned to a crisp." He was quick to diffuse the magic he set off on her. Though he was quiet when realizing she already had marks on her back to begin with. "Well, I was wondering why you always seemed keen on hiding your back though I suppose I've made things worst for you now, huh?" He looked rather smug and proud when saying that. His nails claw down her back, "Though I'd prefer if you had something to always remember me by, so I'll happily overwrite what was previously done to you."

Mukuro had tried her best since that day to avoid Satan as best she could, going as far as to use her window as a means of avoid running into him。

But it seemed like her luck ran out when they ran into each other at the library which, in hindsight, she should have seen coming。

Mukuro didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, so wen he was all smile and acted friendly, Mukuro still wore a look of skepticism。 There wasn't much, if any verbal answers from Mukuro but when he'd ask if a hug she was in the middle of saying ' no ' when his arms were already around her。

Unsurprisingly, the whole ' kindness ' he was showing her was a facade, the near bone-crushing tight hug was something she somewhat expected but when she suddenly felt a burning on her back, Mukuro's mind went blank for a moment, until she heard him laugh and a glare ( or at least the best she could muster )。

For a moment Mukuro thought that she was imagining it but the feeling was all too familiar, then came the smell, and she knew that this was all too real。 She wasn't given much time to react between the hug being broken and being shoved up against the wall。

Even when he dissipated the fire spell, the vice grip anxiety had on her chest was tighter than ever but still she'd do her best not to give him the reaction he wanted。 Instead she'd continue to glare at him in a look he'd be all to familiar with, a very seething expression burned onto her face much like the new scars he'd be leaving on her。

Were she more of an arsonist, she absolutely would retaliate by setting his room ablaze, letting all those precious books of his ignite。 But then again, she had no idea even if the books within his possession could be destroyed so easily。 So really, she didn't know how to get back at him for this, if she could。

Mukuro would flinch in pain when his nails rack down her back, but the look on her face would only intensify。

She'd continue to not say anything except just glare at him, Mukuro wasn't about to stoop down to his bullying level。 As much as she wanted to point out how pathetic he was being by picking on someone smaller and weaker than him like this, but she knew that saying that out loud would only garner more of this treatment。

「Do what you must, you wont break me。」Even though she thought herself a master at masking her true emotions, Mukuro couldn't fully hide the anxiety that filled her voice and as much as she tried not to cry because of the fear and anxiety that rose within her, she'd do her best to hold it in, but it was clear in her eyes that she wanted to cry。 However, Mukuro didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry。

So she'd comply so this could end sooner and the sooner this ended, the sooner she could go and tend to her wounds and possibly talk to Diavolo about moving over to Purgatory Hall and making sure none of her classes aligned with Satan's。

Because now it was clear that a friendship with him would be extremely unlikely。

【 unprompted asks 】 ♡ 【 always accepting 】

[sharmerika]

I still can’t get over the fact, (well kinda felt like) that I have been saved today.

As I posted here a few days ago, I’ve been looking for high-end houses (mansions) in Miami. And I’ve reached to a lot of people. None responded.

Obviously, I was getting a bit frantic, I know I was given 2 weeks to look for those houses, but let’s face the fact I get really anxious when I don’t see any results. But here’s the thing that happened, I kept on searching even though my anxiety is skyrocketing and saw this incredible mansion, I reached out to realtor (broker) sent him the email. I didn’t expect he would respond. But he did.

He said, what about my house, and gave me the address, I checked it out. It was gorgeous. And he designed the whole house. I know, it was just one house, amidst all of the ones I’ve reached out to. But still, at least I got one. Which made me really feel grateful and relieved.

Because someone told me, when I was still looking for haunted houses across the US a few days ago, she gave me this address of a house where her great aunt lived, and she said it wasn’t covered in National media, but the locals know of it (which I was right, when you want to find places that have been overlooked by the mainstream media, go and ask the locals) I found a lot of haunted houses, mind you. After conversing with her, she wished me luck on my endeavour. Then I said, “thanks! I’m a little bit busy as I’m looking for mansions in Miami” and she said, “that’s a bit of a tough one, as most rich people don’t want their privacy invaded” which I am aware of.

Which makes me really appreciate what happened earlier. It is a simple thing, yes. But at least my anxiety dissipated after that.

I know I’ve always put a lot of pressure on myself, it is one of my toxic traits. I tend to overthink, I over analyse, I tend to be self critical, I get anxious, then I get stressed out. Because I really don’t like disappointing myself and other people.

The whole team is cool and chill with it, by the way.

[sbnslver]

Happier Than Ever

Pairing: Stephen Strange x fem! Reader

Warnings: Pre-wedding anxieties, I think that's it very fluffy.

A/N: okay this one was really fun and I think it's really cute 😭😭 and I may have slipped a twilight reference in there but I hope you enjoy and sorry if there's mistakes I had to post this from my phone :')

Word count: 1.1k

Prompt 96 "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You were staring at your reflection in the mirror, and you could barely recognize yourself. Your hair was perfectly done and you looked flawless. Your dress was everything you had ever dreamed of, and you were the textbook definition of a bride. Yet you could feel the bile rising in your throat, your hands were beginning to become clammy, and you felt the overwhelming urge to burst into tears. You were so glad you had asked to be alone because they could never see you like this. You were supposed to be happy and excited about marrying the man who you’ve been in love with for the past 5 years.

And you were; you were overjoyed. You couldn’t dream of anything better, but the fear wouldn’t let up. This commitment was huge. Going through with the ceremony meant you'd have to spend the rest of your life with this one person, and it was a lot to take in. The fear of divorce was also on your mind. You were in a whirlwind of emotions, unable to steady yourself quickly enough in time for the ceremony where all your friends and family had taken the time out of their day to witness this holy matrimony.

You took a few paces around the room to steady your breathing, avoiding looking at your reflection for fear of becoming even more terrified.You believed part of the reason for this major meltdown was due to the fact that you hadn’t seen Stephen in over twenty-four hours, and it was the longest you had gone without seeing him since you had become an official couple. He was your rock, and without him, you were not having a great time.

"5 more minutes Y/N, are you going to be okay?" A voice asked from outside the bridal room.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." You said this while mentally cursing yourself for the shakiness in your voice and the overall tone, giving the idea that you weren’t fine at all. You heard the steps dissipate and you let out a breath, trying once again to calm your nerves. Jolting you, you heard a soft knock at the door.

"Y/N? A little birdie told me you were experiencing a little case of the wedding jitters," a voice said, followed by a low laugh. "Well, you’re in luck because the doctor’s in." It was Stephen. And as soon as you recognized it was him, all the worries in your body seemed to evaporate completely.

You were alarmed; he was breaking tradition. "Stephen, what are you doing? You’re going to ruin our marriage before it even begins. " You whispered through the door, keeping your voice low so as to not alarm any of the guests who were just down the hall.

"Well, if you could let me in, we can talk about this, us getting married." He whispered back, his voice lacking any and all the lightheartedness it had before. "We don't have to do this today. If you're not ready, I'll wait for you forever."

"Stephen, you will not see me unless I'm walking down that aisle. So, God willing, it will be today." You banged on the door between you two with each word."There’s nothing I want more than to marry you today. I just got a little in my head, that’s all."

"I just want to make sure you’re okay. I know this is very overwhelming and, for the record, I missed you. I can’t even last twenty-four hours without you, and if that isn’t enough reason to get married, I don’t know what is." He laughed. "And don’t worry, they can wait as long as we need them to."

You pushed your back against the door and slid down until you reached the floor. You sighed and let your head hang down, careful not to ruin its perfect placement. You felt the door push back against you, and you could only assume Stephen was doing the same on the other side. You looked to your left and you could see his scarred hands reaching in from the other side.

"Since you won’t let me see you, at least hold my hand so I can help you out a little." He waved his fingers and you let your hands rest in his larger, warm ones. "There she is."

You stayed like that for a few minutes in silence, his hand holding yours.

"You know, when I first saw you, I knew there was no way I was ever going to let you leave my life. I just knew... that you were the one for me." He said, his voice firm. "Every day after that, you proved me right. You’ve been there for me in every way you could. You’ve shown me how to love and care for someone. Y/N, you have taught me so many things that no one else could ever have, and I thank God every day for sending me you. No one could ever compare to you." He cleared his throat, "I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Forever and always, I’ll love you."

"Oh Stephen, don’t make me cry. I'll never forgive you if I ruin my makeup before we even get married." You sniffled, grabbing a tissue to dab against your eyes. "I love you too, by the way, if it wasn’t obvious enough." Laughing, you squeezed his hand.

"Well, it feels good to hear it nonetheless. And of course, I’m expecting a grand speech about how much you love me for our vows, so don’t disappoint me." Stephen joked, giving you a reassuring squeeze back.

"You’re quite the charmer, Stephen Strange," you teased.

"Well, how do you think I got you to agree to marry me?"

"You’re very right. But in all seriousness, I think I’m ready now. Honestly, I was ready as soon as I heard your voice. I guess you really are a magic doctor." You giggled, moving from your position on the floor to clean up your appearance, looking at your frazzled reflection in the mirror.

"Well, I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the aisle." He said, as you heard the shuffling from outside the door.

"I’ll be the one in white," you said.

"That’s very convincing," he teased. "I really can’t believe this is happening. I don’t think I’ll ever be as happy as I am right now."

"Neither do I," you sighed. "Now go, we've made them wait long enough," you said, making a shooing motion, not realizing he couldn't see you.

"You’re shooing me away, aren’t you?"

"Stephen! Go, before I run away." You laughed. There was no doubt in your mind that this man wasn’t the one for you.

"Okay, I’m going. I’m going. See you real soon, sweetheart, soon to be Mrs. Stephen Strange," you listened as his footsteps faded away and you heard the orchestral swell of the music just down the hall. It was now or never, and there was nothing in your mind that was going to scare you away.

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[nik-the-bik]

Hyde Meets Mr. Seek - The Strange Case Fanfic

Hello yes this is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever done by a mile and it's been a draft for months.

Jekyll/Utterson is obviously my favorite ship but what happens when Hyde enters the mix?

Yes 100% of the dialogue exchange is from canon.

*****

It was a crisp evening, London had turned over to bed, and Mr. Hyde was strutting his way back home himself. Not that he wanted to go in quite yet, mind you. He still had hours of energy left in him—the night air called him seductively to explore the city’s darkest corners and continue to indulge his deepest fantasies. But he had already been kicked out of a couple of bars tonight, although he certainly wasn’t that drunk yet, thank you very much. Still, a few previous nights like this one had shown him that it was sometimes better to cut your losses than press your luck trying to surpass the limits of your sobriety at some other shabby institution.

Not to mention a few fierce looking characters were cross with him tonight after he had let his ruthless tongue get the best of him, and it was probably best if he skirted off now before they had any reason to track his scent back here.

As the nondescript back door to Jekyll’s cabinet came into view, Hyde almost felt like whistling as he reached for the key, another night out complete, another undertaking met with some modicum of success. That’s when he felt a gentle hand suddenly brush his shoulder, and a voice he knew deep in his marrow crashed into him.

“Mr. Hyde, I think?”

The unexpected touch coupled with that voice—this voice, of all people! —sent a thunderbolt through Hyde’s whole system and he took in a sharp, jilted breath in panic. His heart was suddenly beating in his ears as anxiety filled him.

Utterson!

What was Utterson doing here?

He stopped, desperate to calm himself, shook off the hand that gripped him, and coiled inward. The once bracing evening air now stung his lungs, and he didn’t dare turn around. Since his being, Hyde had instinctively known to avoid the friends of Dr. Jekyll. He couldn’t imagine a worse person in that circle to encounter first.

Without turning around, he mumbled, “That is my name. What do you want?”

The man behind him hesitated before clearing his throat, and patiently, as though speaking to a petulant child, said, “I see you are going in. I am an old friend of Dr. Jekyll’s – Mr. Utterson of Gaunt Street – you must have heard my name; and meeting you so conveniently, I thought you might admit me.”

Okay.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

Utterson was here. Utterson somehow knew that Hyde had connections with Jekyll. Utterson was looking for Jekyll. Utterson was never going to find Jekyll, not while he was Hyde.

Fuck.

“You will not find Dr. Jekyll; he is from home.”

He thought he heard Utterson sigh behind him – was he disappointed? Sympathy welled within him; some of the anxiety dissipated. Perhaps Utterson didn’t have any unusual suspicions about Hyde, or at least not yet. Still, to be sure…

“How did you know me?” Hyde asked, voice now shaken.

Instead, he found his question returned with another.“

On your side, will you do me a favor?” Utterson asked softly, his voice rising faintly at the tail end of his request, as though forcing through an unseen obstacle.

Hyde felt his heart lurch with anticipation, his eyes widened as he tried to combat the unexpected thrill that overtook him. “With pleasure,” he responded, feeling unsteady. “What shall it be?”

“Will you let me see your face?”

Hyde stiffened, fists clenching as his heart pounded faster than he ever thought possible. His face?

Don’t do this!

Utterson – Gabriel Utterson! – he wanted to see him!

What if he recognizes you!?

Is that what this was all about? Was there some suspicion? How? It wasn’t possible—nobody had ever recognized Hyde for who he really was.

But this isn’t just some nobody, this is-- GABRIEL. UTTERSON.

Yes, which is exactly why Hyde needed to turn around and see him for himself!

If ANYONE will see through you, it’s him! And what will you do then?

What does it matter—

Would you be able to face him if he were to hate you like all the others?

--well —

Just go! We can deal with Utterson another time when I am—

--I WON’T BE TOLD WHAT TO DO!

In defiance, Hyde whipped himself around and found himself face-to-face with—

Him.

The sharp flash of anger immediately disappeared as he met Utterson’s eyes. Utterson, on his part, took a near imperceptible step back in surprise, but held his gaze.

Those gentle brown eyes stared at him imploringly, cheeks slightly pink from the cold, his soft mouth turning downward into the most delicate frown.

Hyde was captivated. Enthralled.

Smitten.

Beautiful, sweet Utterson, bless him, was doing an admirable job of biting back the repulsion that all people instinctively felt at the sight of Hyde. Nevertheless, Utterson never lost his composure or broke his gaze, and his eyes pierced him with an intensity that Hyde could never remember seeing before.

At the first sight of him, Hyde was flooded with every fond memory, every tender feeling Henry Jekyll had of his dearest Gabriel Utterson all at once, the strength of his affection now rising tenfold, and he immediately knew to his very core that Gabriel Utterson owned his heart completely, and that, like Jekyll, Hyde was bound to love him for all the rest of his life.

When Hyde finally felt himself soften from the tense agitation he had originally turned around with, melting in the warmth of Utterson’s eyes, Utterson found it in him to blink and clear his surprise. His gaze diverted to the side as he cleared his throat and straightened himself.

“There,” Gabriel said, eyes cautiously flicking back to Hyde’s face. “Now I shall know you again.” Gabriel shook the tension from his arms, eyes now landing on his own feet. “It may be useful.” Gabriel’s eyes darted back to Hyde’s briefly but couldn’t bear to linger before once again searching elsewhere.

Seeing the usually stoic Gabriel Utterson so discomposed roused feelings of affection and pity for this dear sweet man, who was struggling to feign politeness in the wake of, well, Hyde. Hyde, desperate to soothe him, whispered in reassurance, “Yes…it is as well we have met; and a propos, you should have my address.” When Gabriel’s eyes flicked upwards to match Hyde’s again, taking in the details about that shady flat in Soho, Hyde felt himself secretly wishing that the new possession of the address would act as an open invitation. Utterson let out a soft grunt in affirmation at the information, and still looked as though he was ready to turn around and abandon this whole venture.

Before he could, Hyde interjected, “And now, how did you know me?”

Utterson was forced to look him in the eye again, and Hyde did everything in his power to try to appear unprovoking, short of offering a smile. Seeing Hyde calmer seemed to ease Utterson’s own discomfort.

“By description,” he replied.

“Whose description?”

“We have common friends.”

Concern started rearing its ugly head in Hyde’s thoughts again. Common friends? Not likely. His brow furrowed. “Common friends? Who are they?”

“Jekyll, for instance,” Utterson offered.

Seething rage poured over Hyde. What was he playing at? What did he really want, and why on earth was he lying?

“He never told you. I did not think you would have lied,” Hyde spat. Utterson was up to something, and he refused to trust Hyde. He hated him, just like everyone else.

“Come, that is not fitting language,” Utterson gasped, taken aback.

Hyde felt himself snarl out of sheer frustration. How could Utterson of all people so blatantly lie to him, his best friend, his soul mate, his –

Well, he was only Hyde, after all.

The animalistic anger quickly melted into an off-kilter laughter as Hyde began to comprehend just how utterly fucked this whole situation was. Rage now replaced with overwhelming shame, he finally turned, jammed his key into the lock on the door, and marched through, letting it slam behind him.

As the sound of the slam echoed through the passage, leaving him in sheer darkness, Hyde stumbled forward a few more steps on uncertain feet before his legs fell from under him and he collapsed to his hands and knees. He felt more drunk now than he had moments ago, before the encounter.

His head was swimming with more emotion than he had any ability to grasp, contradictory forces of anger, sadness, happiness, betrayal, desire, all jerking him in different directions and colliding back into him once more.

Most of all, there was a deep, powerful yearning tugging him.

He wanted desperately to get up and turn back around, step back outside, see if he was still there—on the off chance that Utterson hadn’t turned and fled—and beg forgiveness. He’d be on his knees, apologize for his rage, his rudeness, insist he wanted to build an acquaintance. And maybe – maybe – he’d pull Utterson into his arms and let his lips trace a path from his ear down his jaw to his neck, whispering “The Doctor has told me all about you, though.”

Would Utterson shove him away in anger? Fear? Disgust? Loathing? Or perhaps – perhaps – there was the slightest chance he’d melt into Hyde’s touch and submit himself to forging a connection with Hyde that had never been possible with Jekyll.

Then there was that cold, loathsome voice in his head again.

You will leave Gabriel Utterson alone.

Rage flared up once more. Why should he? Why shouldn’t he be allowed to create a bond with the man his whole being knew instinctively?

These lives cannot intersect. If you try to drag Utterson into your world, you will bring nothing but regret and misery to us all.

Regrettably, that voice had a point.

You might be comfortable reveling in your own disgraces, but you will not contaminate HIM. I won’t allow it.

No. Of course not.

Hyde would never again be near Utterson.

He wouldn’t dare.

[charmandhex]

You know, listen, under most circumstances, Taako would probably be thrilled to have a gorgeous man staring fixedly at him. But a gorgeous man staring fixedly at him while holding a scythe considerably bigger and scarier than your standard adventurer’s sickle? Yeah, that would be an exception.

“Taako Taaco,” mystery man says menacingly, dramatically. Then he blinks, as though surprised, and the ominous weight of the encounter is momentarily dispelled.

“Yeah?” Taako asks, self-preservation immediately switching gears toward throwing tall, dark, handsome, and armed off his game.

“Taako...”

“Hello.” Taako waves, even throws in a wink.

“Taaco?”

“Yep.” Taako pops the p. “What can I do for you?”

This, however, seems to be the wrong question, because mystery man’s face goes sharp again, sharper than should be possible, as though he’s taken cheekbones sharp enough to kill all too literally.

“On behalf of the Raven Queen, goddess of the natural order of life and death, you, Taako Taaco, stand accused of crimes of necromancy in the aiding in the escape of one Lup Taaco from the Astral Plane and imprisonment in the Eternal Stockade.” As he speaks, his face grows gaunter; his black robes grow darker; and the very air around them grows colder. In moments, looming over Taako is a skeletal figure with a tattered black cloak and eye sockets full of flame. The one thing to remain the same is the scythe, close enough that Taako’s breath cools and condenses against the metal surface in the frigid air.

Raven Queen, huh? Figures. Just his luck. But now Taako knows what he’s up against. And forget cutting the tension with a knife; the tension itself could cut. Taako knows he has to tread very, very carefully here. “Now, uh, hold on there, my guy.” Taako makes a time out symbol. “Lup wasn’t in the Astral Plane, so she couldn’t have escaped.”

“That- that-“ the Grim Reaper huffs, annoyed. But the thing about order and the whole lawful side of the spectrum? They thrive on technicalities, and Taako is gonna hold onto that like the literal life-preserver it is. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Uh, I think it does, homie. I didn’t pull anyone out of any astral soup; I just... kept Lup from crossing a line or two. And I think your boss agrees.” Taako gets the distinct impression that he’s being glared at, even with the pronounced lack of eyeballs involved.

“The rules still stand. A life is owed.”

“You can’t have her.” Taako’s own voice goes dangerously cold. “I’m not losing her again.”

“She was dying. Not for the first time.”

“But she didn��t. She’s alive, and you can’t touch her.”

“Scales must be balanced.”

“Or, and here’s an idea: fuck your scales!” And apparently fuck treading carefully.

But formerly handsome skeleton man snorts, and with a ripple of divine magic, currently handsome Grim Reaper is standing before Taako. He looks from Taako to his scythe before letting it go. It doesn’t fall, just dissipates into so much smoke. “There is another option.”

“No, I’m pretty sure we’re good here.”

“Taako, you have your own crimes against the Raven Queen.”

“Pretty sure that would require intent, and let me tell you, I had zero control over the whole dying thing. And the whole suddenly not dying thing.”

“Therefore, I am not obligated to let you go. Either of you. But...” the Grim Reaper slowly extends a hand, the same hand that held the scythe, out to Taako. “One could balance the scales. A life, for a life.”

“Doesn’t sound particularly great for Taako.”

“I will not pursue Lup any longer.”

“Not good enough.”

“You’re bargaining? With the Grim Reaper?” He sounds incredulous, but Taako is already on a roll.

“Lup, Barry, Magnus, Merle-”

“Merle fuckin’ High-”

“Yeah, Merle too, and Lucretia and Davenport. You can’t touch them.” The Grim Reaper retracts his hand, considering. Taako sticks to his magic missiles. “Best deal you’re gonna get, kemosabe,” he says, braver than he feels.

The Grim Reaper extends his hand. And Taako takes it.

Before Taako has the time to think anything other than boy howdy that sure is a clammy one, they’re gone. Or, the world around them is gone. Or, there’s a new world around them. Taako blinks, surprised. You’d think with all his interplanar travel, he’d get used to this sort of thing.

But it’s less that there is a new world around him and more...

The castle around him isn’t exactly the Sea of Souls. And looks about three degrees too friendly to be the Eternal Stockade.

Not to mention, he’s still not alone.

The Grim Reaper looks at Taako. Taako looks at the Grim Reaper.

“What.”

“What.”

“This has to be a mistake.”

“Well then it’s your mistake, my fella.”

“No, this- you should have just gone directly-” There’s an echo of that unearthly divine anger in his voice, and Taako throws up his hands defensively.

“Listen, listen. I agreed with you. Life for, uh, well, six lives. It’s not my fault if you get performance anxiety just dumping someone into the soul soup and somehow fuck that up.”

“Perf- now, listen, I have never in my, in my existence- this is- come on.” The Grim Reaper seizes Taako’s hand, and Taako is dismayed to note that it’s just as cold as the first time. “We’re getting this sorted out now.”

KRAVITZ.

You know, upon meeting her, Taako would have thought the Raven Queen would be too dignified for an exasperated sigh.

But after roughly 23 minutes of discussion between her and the Grim Reaper Taako now knows is called Kravitz, he has no other description for the way she says the latter’s name.

YES, TAAKO TAACO IS GUILTY OF THE CRIMES OF WHICH HE IS ACCUSED.

“Allegedly!”

TAAKO.

“Fine, I died eight times. But not here!”

PRECISELY. The Raven Queen looks back to Kravitz. AND AGREEMENT OR NO, HE IS STILL LIVING. HE MUST STILL ANSWER TO FATE.

“So are you gonna let me go then?” Taako asks, less hopeful and more... just trying to annoy his way into freedom at this point.

A BARGAIN WAS STRUCK.

“So that’s a... a what then?”

It’s Kravitz’s turn for a long, drawn out sigh. “It means, you’re stuck. Can’t go forward, because you’re not dead and fate wants a word with you and all. Can’t go back because we shook on it.”

Taako looks from Kravitz to the Raven Queen and back again. “Horseshit.”

UNFORTUNATELY. NO.

“So how the fuck do I get back to my family?” Taako yells, anger rising and voice bouncing off a ceiling seemingly higher than the night sky above the prime material plane. Where he should be.

The Raven Queen is starting to look like she has a headache. Can goddesses even get headaches? Either way, Taako can relate.

I AM GOING TO CONSULT ISTUS. The Raven Queen looks to Kravitz, who seems to quail under a gaze that says, “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.” KRAVITZ. AS THIS WAS THE RESULT OF YOUR ACTIONS, YOU WILL BE RESPONSIBLE FOR HIM UNTIL A RESOLUTION CAN BE REACHED.

“My Queen-“

THIS IS MY DECISION. A pause. RQ OUT.

There’s the slightest ripple through the air, and then the Raven Queen’s throne is empty.

Kravitz lets out a long sigh. Taako feels mildly insulted. By all rights, isn’t it his turn for a long, dramatic, put upon sigh?

It’s quiet for a long moment.

“So... I’m stuck here then?” Taako asks.

“For now. While they... remedy the situation.”

“And I’m stuck with you.” Taako makes his displeasure with the idea known.

“Unfortunately.” Kravitz seems equally unenthused.

Taako sucks his teeth, considering.

“Do you at least have a kitchen around here?”