#asking me questions is NEVER annoying if anything i feel like my long winded answers are annoying hdjbccjscdhj

[delightfuldevin]

I am staring SO hard yes bestie give me EVERYTHING on your Mario S/I. I'm so fascinated by the part Shine Sprite part, reminds me of the Peach is a Super Star (Grand Star? Star Spirit??) reborn theory from forever ago. Would LOVE to delve more into the lore ramifications of that.

I hope it's okay I ask more like. Specific questions?? Sorry if this is a little annoying I just love to learn other people's S/I lore...

Like, what's his timeline? How old are the main characters compared to him? How old are the Koopalings when he meets them? HOW did he almost die to the Odyssey Dragon (another game I haven't PLAYED but have seen playthroughs of)? What's with Wingman King boo? What's he do in-game style? What's his opinion on Peach? E. Gadd?? Gooigi??

And also could I, when I get my bones together, draw him because he is very cool and I would love to doodle him some if that's okay

I’M GONNA RUN OUT OF HEART EMOJIS TO THROW AT YOU SOON

So yeah, cut again cause I just love talking a lot and giving copious amounts of information dhbcbjhhsdshcjvsxh

So, I don’t have an idea of ages for anyone, except Bowser Jr who is somewhere around 6 or 7? Ludwig is actually close to my age I think, and I imagine that he probably calls me by name rather than the same parental term the others call me (Ven or Venny). Though, I think he’d use Ven sometimes. I like to go by the SMB3 order for the Koopalings’ ages, so youngest to oldest is Larry, Morton, Wendy, Iggy, Roy, Lemmy, and Ludwig. Larry is older than 12. That’s all I can really say on that jbcjxncjshc

There is an age gap between Bowser and I, but I’m not sure exactly how much. I think Dragon-Koopas age differently than even regular Koopas, let alone humans, so I’m not too sure on his age. Cause in the games when everyone is babies (Partners in Time, Yoshi’s Island, etc) Baby Bowser can speak full coherent sentences and walk while the bros and Peach are just making baby noises and crawling. Sure, maybe he’s just a lot older than them, but I like to think they are somewhat close in age chronologically and his species just matures faster mentally. I like to think the bros and Peach are either the same age as me or within a year or two of me.

(When I was a kid, I thought every media made for kids only had kid or teen characters. So yes, I thought the bros and Peach were teenagers, even with the bros’ thick impressive ‘staches. The only, and I mean only, reason I knew Bowser was an adult was because he had kids. After learning about the Yoshi’s Island games, which I also have never actually played, I realized they all had to be adults since they were all babies at the same time.)

King Boo is my bestie!! First time I saw him was actually in Mario Kart DS in the mission where you play as Peach and collect coins and he steals them from you. At the time, all I knew about him was that he was a king and he liked stealing my coins. Next time I saw him was in Mario and Sonic at the Winter Olympic Games for DS. At that point, I knew he had some history with Luigi, but I didn’t know the context. Now, he didn’t really stand out to me all that much, until Luigi’s Mansion: Dark Moon came out and I FELL IN LOVE. I thought he was sooo cool!! When I reached the end of the game and he said to Luigi “Remember that time you trapped me in a painting for all eternity? Good times” that’s when I realized that this had happened before! There was another Luigi’s Mansion game before that one! Needless to say, I was very excited to learn that.

My S/I meets King Boo in a Mario Kart tournament. They don’t even know each other, but for some reason, they feel compelled to target each other specifically. After the game and everyone splits ways, they mostly forget about each other… until my S/I accidentally stumbles into Boo Woods. Now, I’m sure you’ve noticed that my favorite color is green and it’s what I like to wear. Well, who else wears a lot of green? Luigi. And that’s who KB thinks I am when he sees me again. He jumps out to scare my S/I and my S/I throws fireballs at him in response. A couple misunderstandings resolved later, and boom! New bestie!

The whole targeting each other in Mario Kart thing remains a big part of our dynamic. If we’re on opposite teams, we usually go after each other. But if we’re on the same team, everyone else better watch out. We also throw a joint Halloween party every year! Also fun fact: my S/I initially only called him King Boo, but picked up the nickname KB from Bowser. It stands for Kool Bro.

Now, I have a headcanon that Bowser and KB are also best friends, *coughcough*and later queerplatonic partners*coughcough*, so when KB discovers Bowser and I are mutually pining for each other, he takes it upon himself to help get us together to make fun of us because he’s a good friend. He enjoyed teasing us in the early stages of our relationship cause our feelings were so painfully obvious to literally everyone but us.

As for Gadd, well, my S/I doesn’t care for him to say the least dhgfsjhbcs. My dude is faaaar too invested in his paintings that are just prisons for actual sentient beings rather than the safety and sanity of my little brother. Plus, those ghosts in LM1 weren’t even causing trouble! Just living their afterlife in a nice big house and then all of a sudden some lil onion man comes and shoves them into a painting forever. Definitely siding with KB on this one and agreeing that little onion man deserves a taste of his own medicine in his own special painting. Maybe not for eternity, but at least until he gets his shit together.

Peach is also my bestie!! It’s a bit complicated for obvious reasons dhbcsjhbdc. On one hand, my S/I enjoys being villainous with his husband and invading the Mushroom Kingdom. On the other hand, sometimes he just wants to hang out at Peach’s Castle and have tea parties and get little kissies on his cheek,, Listen, Mario canon is weird. If Bowser can be the scourge of the kingdom one minute, then get invited to go karting and sports the next, then so can I,,

In terms of actual in-game stuff, I most easily imagine my S/I as being part of a dual final boss with Bowser ala New Super Mario Bros style! That, or a penultimate boss that would happen right before Bowser. Thing is, because I’m Mario, I can’t imagine interacting with him since how do I interact with myself??? But since he’s the main character, it’s kinda hard to get around that cshbvddhh. I can imagine fighting him, but not much else. I also can’t really fit myself well into any story driven game like the rpgs cause those are actually the games that give me the biggest kin feels haha. The most I can do is that I like to imagine being a secret boss in the challenge mode (if you’ve played the M&L series, I’m talking about the boss blitz modes in Bowser’s Inside Story, Dream Team, and Paper Jam). So yeah, if not a final or penultimate boss, then definitely a secret boss cause that’s just really cool to me. Maybe even like, the boss of World 9 in the New series!!

Okay so now the Odyssey Dragon! (I know you asked this, so you obviously want to know all this, but I can’t help but feel like I am talking waaay too much shcbsjhj)

My S/I spent a lot of time being in the forest due to it being the most familiar since that’s where he first arrived. He was caught out in the forest during a really bad storm and only realized too late that the storm was being caused by a dragon passing overhead. He was struck by the dragon’s lightning and blacked out. He woke up in the clinic in the forest Toad Village a few days later with a nasty scar, cloudy vision in his left eye, and wicked lightning powers. (Fun fact: I based the eye injury on the fact that I actually do have really bad vision only in my left eye. My right eye can see great, the left one not so much).

Now, this is one of few things that only I know and my S/I doesn’t. See, in universe, he has no idea how he ended up in the Toad Clinic and absolutely thinks that he should have died in the forest. But it was actually Bowser who brought him there! At the time, Bowser would stalk him come check up on him in secret sometimes, since this was back before he started liking Bowser. One of those times happened to be during that storm. Bowser brought him to the clinic and hung around outside until he got better, then left. Bowser still has never told my S/I this because he’s (Bowser) afraid to admit that he (my S/I) could’ve really died that day ;-;

Thank you so so much for continuing to let me yell about my S/I!! I can’t tell you enough how happy it makes me that you’re so interested!! And ABSOLUTELY you can draw him whenever you want!!! I will BURY YOU in heart emojis

ALSO TELL ME ABOUT YOUR S/I SOME TIME I WANT OUR S/IS TO BE FRIENDSSSSS

[chrlvctius]

clandestine meetings

Alexia putellas x williamson reader!!

It was late afternoon, probably around 5 p.m., and the sun was setting. It was October, the fall season. The air smelled like leaves, almost like pumpkin. I was so focused on people walking down from the rooftop that I didn't notice someone joining me.

I didn't have to turn to see who it was since I knew who it was right away. Just by her hair, her height, and the vibes she radiates. I couldn't be wrong, I knew it was her. Memorising those small details about her makes me hate her because I can't seem to get over her.

She moved closer to me, leaving a small distance between us. She took out a cigarette, lit it, and went on about her business while I was at a loss for what to do beside her. I don't think starting a conversation with her would help either, so I just stood quietly, admiring the view and watching the sun set as the wind blew through my hair.

There's something about that comfortable silence. We didn't have to say anything to one other or anything like that. Or, if we did talk. We didn't have to worry about running out of topics or being awkward since simply being with her in silence is plenty; her presence is enough. Being together felt like home; it made us feel complete.

Leaning over the rail, I turned my head to check on her, and she was as lovely as ever. She was always beautiful. She was the first person who caught my attention when I moved to Barcelona. I've kept an eye on her ever since.

She continued smoking and admiring the view, while I got lost staring at her. She sighed and smiled, "You know I can see you staring, right?" she asked, turning to face me.

I couldn't think of anything to say so I just chuckled and shrugged it off.

She turned to face me, tossed her cigarette in the trash can, and moved closer to me.

"Why did you stop smoking?" I asked as she approached me.

"I don't want you to smell like smoke, plus i don't think you like it when people smoke near you" she went on to say

"That's very thoughtful of you, ale," I comment, laughing at her.

She was taken aback for a moment because she had never heard me call her by her nickname. It was my first time addressing her as such. I usually refer to her as "alexia" or "cap"

She paused for a bit before clearing her throat, "Is your sister okay?"

she said, seeming nervous

She seems to have gathered up enough courage to ask that question. Leah and Alexia weren't on the best of terms, so hearing her ask this makes my heart melt.

"She'll be fine; I'll be back home once the breaks come," I reassured her.

"I know she was against you going to Barcelona," she said as she drew closer to me than she had ever been.

"Um, yeah. She was," I answered nervously, hoping to keep it hidden because she was closer than ever right now.

"I'm pretty sure you know why she didn't want you to come here, right?" she asked, with a slight smirk on her face. She was clearly having a good time.

"Of course," I answer, trying to cover up my nervousness. Having her so near to me makes my knees shaky, like jello. Her stares make my knees wobble.

"She didn't want me coming here because she'll be alone, and we've never been separated this long, it'll be new to her, to me as well," I reply, looking wherever I can to avoid facing her because I know it'll be a dead end for me if I do.

"Come on, that's not all of it, isn't it?" she nudged me

"I'm not blind, I know the main reason why williamson doesn't want you to come here is because of me" she said with that annoying smirk on her face that I desperately wanted to erase

I just nodded and tucked my lips because she got it right

"What does she say about me? I bet she told you I was bad influence" she said and laughed

“You should surely take your older sister's advice, don't you think?"

"Like the good girl you are," she said, smirking.

We fell silent and let the breeze wash over us.

She drew nearer as I walked toward the doorway, placing both of her arms on either side of the rail to enclose me.

"Do you think I'm a bad influence? Do you agree with your sister?"

I look at her and see her eyes piercing at me, green with a tint of brown, she looked breathtaking. I felt like I could drown in her eyes.

"I don't think you are," I responded, swallowing hard.

"I'm your sister's rival, and yet you still stick with me?"

"I don't think you'd like it if I ignored you, though," I muttered, glancing down because just looking at her makes me want to pass out.

She tilted her head in such a way that it gave me butterflies. Lord, when will this end?

"Why so?" she inquired, completely teasing me.

"Would you like me to ignore you for the entire season, ale?" I said back.

She pouted at me, seeming to think about what she was about to say.

"Hmm, no. It would make me sad," she teased, smiling.

"Sad, why?" I inquired, still smiling.

"Because if I were to ignore you, that would make your sister feel relieved that I'm not circling you. I want her to be mad at me and for her to feel annoyed because it makes me happy." She grinned and moved closer to me.

"You're really messed up in the head, ale," I joke, pushing more against the rail because if I don't, you know what would happen.

"I want her to be annoyed, I want her to be angry at me, I want her to feel all the emotions," she said as she locked her gaze on mine. Her eyes seemed to want to express more, as if there was more to what she said.

"Which is why i won't be leaving you"

She whispered and stared at me for what seemed like hours. She was just staring at me, as if she was trying to memorise my face. I felt very vulnerable.

"Is that the only reason you don't want me to ignore you?" I asked, leaning closer to accept her challenge.

"Do you think there's something more?" she replied, edging closer to me until our faces were almost touching.

"I know there is"

I'm so sorry for leaving u w a cliffhanger 😭😭 i promise you there is a part 2! THERE WILL BE A PART 2 👹👹

Dm me if u wanna know some bits of the next part 😎

[abilouwrites]

ARE YOU MINE

Zuko “someone to call mine” part two!

@multifandomedsimp ily bcz u commented and that shit makes my day

It takes me two days before I text the number on the gift card, “hello?” A voice answers, I know that voice, “this is Zuko”

“I know.. it’s y/n from the other day. You gave me your number on the gift card” I nervously say, “um this is so random but would you maybe want to—“

“Yes”

“I haven’t even said the question”

“Just yes” His voice feels so desperate and it makes me feel wanted in a way I’ve never felt for a guy before.

It doesn’t take long for us to meet up, “are you sure it’s not too late?” I ask walking into the locker rooms, “I’ve got lacrosse practice”

“No, I just want to see you that’s all” he replies, “have fun”

I finish up two hours later; shower and drive to the park where we’re going to walk about. I see him; baggy jeans and crewneck which is a contrast to my leggings and hoodie. My damp hair down and scrunched up, “hey” he smiles as I walk up to him; hands tucked into my pockets.

“Hi, it’s cold out tonight. Didn’t the groundhog say it was supposed to be warm now?” I laugh a little, but my joke feels stupid now, “do you have any siblings?” I ask

He sighs, “I have a sister, Azula but she’s not right in the head” he looks down a little disappointed but sighs and looks back up, “what about you”

“I have a little sister, Suki. She’s definitely a character” I smile a little, “she’s annoying to all annoyingness but I would kill for her”

“A little sister seems nice, um how was your practice?” He asks; we’re both a little awkward and it’s nice to feel this way again

“It was good, lots of drills. Especially being Varsity captain there’s a lot of pressure to do well” I ramble, “do you do any sports?” I ask, nervously stuffing my hands into my pockets to fidget and pull at my nails

“No. I just make tea” he laughs a little, it’s a nervous and hoarse thing but it eases me comfort that he feels as I do, “I used to play soccer but I lost the passion for it. You know?” He gives a short smile as we circle around, and we find ourself back at the tea shop, “tea?”

“That..” the wind brushes through my jacket, “would be so nice” I smile as he leads me inside, we don’t take long before we get comfortable with each other. Sitting next to each other, talking about whatever.

“What was your mom like?” I ask, rubbing my hands on the cup of lotus tea to keep warm, “can I ask that?”

“I guess, she was kind, and sweet. The only one who actually tried to help poor Azula. My uncle has stepped up in her place and in my father’s too” he confesses, he looks so sad. I wrap my hand around his loose one that hangs by his side. Twisting my fingers intertwined with his.

“My dad left when I was four. I never really knew why but throughout my parents marriage he..” there’s a long exhale and I lean against him, bunching my knees to my chest, “was cheating on my mom. But she was pregnant with Suki” I pause trying to remember what happened. There was a fight, breaking glass but, “I can’t remember anything else”

“Thank you, for sharing that with me. My father was the same, he never cheated on my mother but he wasn’t a kind man either. I lied before. My scar doesn’t come from a tea pot exploding” he confesses, looking down ashamed at his own lie that doesn’t seem too horrible, “my father burned me. I think it’s a blessing I don’t exactly remember what happened”

“Yes. Maybe it is a good thing. I really like you Zuko” I admit. Maybe it’s the warm tea in my stomach or how talking about things that have hurt me so bad and not crying over it. It makes me feel good in some way

“I really like you too”

[g00d--m0urning]

Unnamed Pt. 1 (Daryl Dixon x AFAB!reader)

Part two

This is my first time writing in a long ass time, so please, feel free to leave criticism.

word count: 3208

Summary: ex-cop!Reader's world is rocked thrice over when Daryl Dixon breaks up with them, they discover their pregnant and the world goes to shit in the span of a few months. A/N: this is gender neutral, no other pronouns but you/your used. Reader is obviously AFAB since they get pregnant. Also this first part is hella slow. Basically just getting background out of the way. No y/n used. (No smut, angst? IDFK)

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

Being a cop whilst dating a criminal is… well, interesting, to say the least. And in both of your defenses, Daryl’s not, like, a murder or anything, just petty theft and trespassing and the occasional assault charge (they never go further than a slight fine, it’s a small town in Georgia, nobody gives two fucks). The problem is the eldest Dixon--Merle, the GD bane of your existence--the dumbass is constantly dragging Daryl into his shit (drugs, to be clear) and the youngest refuses to stop riding along with him. No matter how hard you try, therefore, it's a constant point in arguments; much like this one.

“You can tell him no!” you shout exasperatedly, for probably the millionth time tonight.

The ‘him’ in question is Merle Dixon, and the needed ‘no’ is Daryl refusing to ride along to one of his drug crusades. You weren’t even supposed to know about this run, Daryl kept that part of his life separate, per your request, keeping from having to turn either Dixon in, as your academy oath swore. However, the FBI had gotten wind of this trade--something about some cartel being included--and they started sniffing around in search of making a bust and you really didn’t need your boyfriend in federal prison for being associated with that.

“Nah, I can’t!” Daryl shouts right back, smacking his hand against the shitty, peeling folding table he calls a dining table.

This has been going on for probably almost an hour now; you push, he pulls and it just turns into a vicious circle. It had started as an earnest plea, asking him kindly not to go on this run and he just scoffed, continuing to scarf down the three-day-old leftovers you heated up. Now it’s this screaming match, one you’re both tired of. You go to open your mouth to ask why, but he raises a hand, cutting you off like he can read your mind (he can’t, you’ve just had this same argument so many times, you can predict the exact words to come out of each other’s mouth).

“He’s family, been there for me mah whole life,” he hasn’t, he’s been in and out of jail his whole life, but ok. “Least I can do ‘s be there for a simple run, done it a thousand times.”

You just groan in response, pinching the bridge of your nose as you pace, just trying to figure out what to say. How to change his mind. There’s a simple answer, you can’t; if there’s one thing you learnt almost immediately in this relationship is that once the Dixon mind is made up, it’s made up.

“What?” he barks, clearly annoyed by your annoyance.

“Nothing, D.” you mutter, shaking your head at this whole situation.

He huffs at that, knowing it’s not ‘nothing,’ but not wanting to know what it truly is, it’d just stoke the fire. Being the pouty baby he is, Daryl plops into a folding chair, the old hinges creaking at the intense weight add, crossing his arms over his chest. If you weren’t so mad, you’d find the scowl on his face and the way his muscles bulge attractive. A loaded silence falls over the two of you; the neighbor’s dog barks at something, presumably the car that can be heard driving across the old gravel road, a door slams, and cicadas chirp, having come back to enjoy the southern summer heat.

“You know what? No--” you set your hands on the table, putting a stop to your pacing as you look over at Daryl, something indiscernible clouding your face.

“What’re ya--” he starts, sitting up in the chair, cutting himself off as you butt in before he can finish.

“It’s not nothing, Dixon. This--” a quick gesture to the air between the two of you, “isn’t ‘nothing.’ You insisting on going on your idiot brother’s crusades isn’t ‘nothing.’ And I get that he’s family, I do, but you shouldn’t have to throw your life away to repay whatever debt you think you owe him for sticking around!”

You’re the one to get cut off this time, being silenced as he scoffs, abruptly standing up from his chair, anger evident on his face, maybe even a hint of betrayal if you looked real close.

“Fuck that’s supposed ta’ mean?” he asks, brows furrowing as he steps closer to you.

“What’s what supposed to mean?” you ask back, confused by his sudden reaction. You didn’t think you said anything wrong, just expressed a very correct opinion.

“Ya think ‘m throwing mah life away?--ain’t like I got much ahead of me, right? Not like you do, right?” he puts extra emphasis on that last right, rounding the table to stand in front of you.

Another constant topic brought up in arguments--him thinking he’s got no life ahead of him other than ending up dead or deadbeat like his parents and you, having been dealt a much better card of hands in life, having much more planned for you. No matter how much you tried to convince him he could do so much more than be a lackey for his shithead brother, he denies and you guys end up ignoring each other for days until one of you cracks.

“Well, newsflash, all of us ain’t got some shiny future waitin’ for us. Some of us got a life being a ‘lackey’ or whateva you said, fancy pants. And ‘m sorry if that ain’t good enough for ya.’” he states, invading your space inch by inch as he mocks your words.

“That’s not--that’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant!” you stammer, panic slowly beginning to boil beneath the anger. If you thought he, or his family situation, or anything about him, wasn’t good enough for him you wouldn’t have put in the almost two years being his friend and another two and a half dating his stubborn ass. He continues his encroachment until you’re toe to toe,

“Sure as hell sounded like it’s whatcha meant,” he snarls, rubbing at the scruff he has yet to shave before straightening his posture, looking away for a moment. He sucks at his teeth, huffing before he looks straight at you, something you can’t make out clouding his face, “I think you should leave.”

Your face falls, tears slowly welling in your eyes as the words leave his mouth. He’s not kidding, nor was it some sort of freudian slip, he wants you out. It seems different this time, too; not some enraged get out that gets resolved with rough make up sex, or the more tearful one that usually ends with sobbing in each other's arms.

This, this is different. He doesn’t look angry, there’s no tears clawing their way through his stubborn ducts, he’s just… blank. No emotion, other than that stubborn Dixon resolution. This feels like a breakup.

“Fine, I’ll leave.” you huff, taking in a shaky breath as you turn on your heel to make the short trek to the front door. Shoes are haphazardly shoved on, the tongue stuck under your foot and laces shoved in, and your phone and keys shoved into a pocket as you head out the door, slamming the screen door shut behind you.

You don’t bother looking back, not wanting to risk the tears falling, until you hear the broken door of the Dixon trailer jimmied shut. A few tears slip from your eyes, angrily swiping at the wet streaks before continuing down the ‘driveway’ to your car.

Maybe if you stayed inside another minute you could’ve seen the tears glassing over Daryl’s eyes. Or maybe if you stayed outside another minute you would’ve heard the sound of another hole being punched into the wall of the Dixon trailer that continues out of sight as you drive away.

A few days pass by, no contact between you two, letting each other cool down; at least you thought. It’s about a week before you try talking to him the first time, having stopped by the car shop he works at to bring him lunch (a BLT from the greasy dinner, the one next to the even greasier motel near the edge of town). The only response you got was a sideways glare before he huffed and returned to fixing the neighbor’s old pick up, leaving you to put his sandwich on his toolbox and walk back to the station.

Another three days pass before you try again, approaching him in the rundown bar, but again, he ignores you, turning away and slipping into the crowd Merle had gathered. You don’t want to be desperate, but you try calling him a few times, no response to all four calls. As a week turns to two and two to three, your attempts become less and less often.

Around week four is when you got the letter; your application to attend the new agent training for the FBI has been approved. Holy-fucking-shit. You read the letter over and over until the words turn to blurry specks you can no longer decipher and that’s when the nausea kicks in, heaving into the bushes by your mailbox. You write it off as stress sickness, between your breakup and now this; I mean, it’s a big deal, going from beat cop in bumfuck Georgia to a possible FBI agent in Virginia.

You wait on the decision, debating if you want to uproot the life you’ve set up here, getting sick a few more times in the process. You try calling Daryl after a few days of thinking to no avail as he doesn’t answer; that helps you make your decision, handing in your badge the next day and spending the last few days of the week packing your stuff into a u-haul.

You stand on the last step of your shitty porch, staring at the even shittier two room house you’ve called home for the last five years, tears welling in your eyes as you think back to the memories. They’re not all good, not all bad either, and the longer you stand there the more you regret your decision, so you wipe away the few tears that slipped down your cheeks and turn away.

Away from the house, down the step and down the uneven pavement you call a driveway and to your car. You open the door of your baby (a lovely ‘69 Chevy Impala you got from an old lady a few years back), taking one more look back before sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the car: starting your new life.

Settling into your new apartment in Virginia wasn’t as hard as you thought it was going to be; honestly it was a breeze. The whole move was a breath of fresh air, it's nice being in a city where you don’t have to worry about everyone knowing everything about you. The only bad part is you still feel like crap--physically, not mentally, or not really--you’ll have to find a doctor soon anyway, the FBI academy requires your health records and you do not remember the last time you had your shots.

It’s about a week before the academy starts, so you decide it’s time to get to the hospital and get everything checked out. The doctor you booked with seems nice enough when you get there, going through a routine checkup: reflexes, blood pressure, weight, shot records and updates, all that lovely medical stuff.

“So, dear, I’m all done, unless you have any concerns of your own?” the doctor asks, tapping a manicured nail against her desktop as she looks up at you through thin framed glasses.

“Uh, yeah, actually, these past few weeks I’ve felt pretty nauseous. I don’t think it’s anything, just the stress from my move and all, but I wanted to make sure before I started work.” you tell her, a faint blush painting your cheeks under her gaze; normally you could never admit something like that, not without it getting out and people forming all sorts of conspiracies.

“Hm… Well, you’re healthy as a horse, so you’re probably not sick. It most likely is the stress.” she tells you, standing up, her heels tapping as she moves in front of you, red painted lips pursing in a thin line, “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

“W-what? No. No, there’s absolutely no way I could be preg--” you stammer, trailing off as you think back to about two months ago. You and Daryl had been drunk off your asses, desperate, sloppy..

“Here, the bathrooms down the hall and to the left.” she hands you a pregnancy test with a chuckle, clearly oblivious to your inner panic. “And don’t worry, this kind of thing happens all the time.”

You have to hold back the urge to glare at her when you get up from the chair, annoying hospital paper crinkling beneath you. How can she just play this off like it’s nothing? It’s not nothing, you could be pregnant! This could fuck everything up, you can’t attend FBI academy whilst pregnant.

Squatting awkwardly over the toilet so you can piss on the stick while simultaneously managing not to miss the bowl, you hum to yourself as you actively avoid meeting your own gaze in the awkwardly placed full length mirror. You finish, quickly tossing the pee-stick into the sink and deal with the rest of your business before pacing the bathroom as you wait the longest three minutes of your life.

Your phone is in and out of your pocket, continually checking the time until three minutes have finally passed; thank god. You grab a paper towel, reach in the sink and grab the test, trying to find the courage to look at the results. Before you can psych yourself out you look, your heart sinking as you stare at the two pink lines glaring up at you.

You feel sick, you are sick, apparently; there’s a full ass human growing in you. As you gag over the toilet the doctor knocks on the door, slowly pushing it open. An apparent sympathetic expression reading her brows as she moves to gently rub your back. She sits with you until your stomach is emptied, the only thing falling into the toilet being tears.

“It’ll be ok, honey, it will. No matter what you decide.” she tells you as you both exit the bathroom, having spent a good ten minutes sitting on the floor dreading the future. You haven’t a clue what she means by ‘no matter what you decide’ until she passes you a pamphlet for an abortion clinic, offering you a pity smile as you leave the room.

The rest of the day is a blur, between swinging moods between rage and depression it’s hard to keep track of when what happened. You can’t go back to Georgia, you don’t want to go back to Georgia, but what’s going to happen? You know absolutely nobody and your plans have been utterly fucked. So, what? Get rid of the kid? Maybe? No. Maybe… No. Just get a job, raise a kid, yep, sure; this has to be the worst thing ever.

Surprisingly the next month of pregnancy isn’t horrible, you snagged a desk job at the local police department, and you’ve been setting roots down. The doctor--Lillian, you learn, the doctor from before--has been a big help, a friend, you’d consider her; she has a kid of her own with her wife and has been coaching you through your first trimester of growing an unnamed fetus growing within you.

You’re sitting pretty in your OB/GYN’s office, waiting for her to come in and do your four month ultrasound and tell you the gender, which you hope is some because if you have to listen to anymore of the incessant drone of the news anchor you might go insane.

Finally she walks in, all chipper smiles and pink gloves as she wheels the ultrasound machine in behind her. The gel is cold, making you hiss as it’s smeared across your stomach, the tech chuckling at the reaction.

“Do you have any names picked out yet?” she asks, getting the machine all kicked up and ready. She tuts playfully, as you shake your head no, waving a hand through the air. “Well, no pressure, I had a friend who didn’t pick a name until her kid was crowning.”

You cringe at that, finding it to be way too much information; if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that you’re getting a c-section. Natural birth seems scary as shit.

“Are you excited to find out the gender?” is the next question asked as she drags the transducer across your stomach, trying to pinpoint the child. You shake your head again, a ‘yes’ this time.

“Yeah, I am. I don’t have a preference, but I figured knowing the gender would take a little stress off, knowing what to buy and all.” you tell her, pulling a chuckle from both of you. She nods in agreement, cheering quietly as she finally finds the baby.

“In that case, I am happy to tell you that you are having a…” she moves the wand around a little more, squealing happily, seemingly having found the right angle, “girl, it’s a girl! Congrats!” she beams, reaching around to press the print button on the machine.

A sigh leaves your lips as you stare up at the black and white blob that is your baby; a baby girl apparently. Wow. You smile as she hands you the pictures, ‘Congratulations’ scrawled on the bottom of the film.

You can’t seem to find words as the doctor hands you a paper towel to wipe the excess gel off, her head wiggling as she celebrates on your behalf. She busies herself with cleaning everything up as you pull your pants pack on properly, ready to leave the room before something catches your attention.

There’s a red banner rolling at the bottom of the TV, words flashing ‘breaking news.’ You tap the doctor’s shoulder, asking her to turn the volume up on the TV. Her face falls at the sight, nodding as she clicks the volume up several notches.

“Breaking news, multiple reports of a virus outbreak have been recorded in the last several hours. There has been little comment from the government--Wait, one moment please,” is the only thing you manage to hear before a loud and annoying blare emits from the TV, “This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill,” and back to the news guy.

“This just in, cities are going on lockdown, soldiers invading hospitals and the government is advising everybody to stay in their homes. Do not try leaving your city, stay at home or indoors. There has been an outbreak. I repeat--” what the fuck? You listen to the spiel again, trying to wrap your head around what he’s saying.

A nurse rushes in, ushering you out of the room and out the front door, bidding you good luck. There’s already panic starting in the streets; people are flooding stores and cars jamming the streets.

You know how you said being pregnant was the worst thing ever? Scratch that.

[yyawnjun]

AMORE E PSICHE

seungkwan x reader ; enemies to lovers ; 1k wc ; drabble!! my fav boy w my fav trope !! ; fluff ; they're just cold at some point but they're okay!! ; HE FELL FIRST��� ; @kflixnet ; no proofread, I'm sleepy ,,

The art lesson was about to conclude when the teacher began to form pairs for a project in which you were to present an artistic piece from the neoclassical-historical period you were studying at the time.

When the teacher asked who wanted to talk about :Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss" by the Italian sculptor Canova, you didn't hesitate to raise your hand. You loved Greek mythology and knew a lot about that myth, and you liked the sculpture, so you were happy to share it with the class.

But you weren't the only one who raised your hand; Boo Seungkwan, the one you couldn't stand in front of the entire class, had also raised his hand to deal with that sculpture…

Why would he want to work with you? Since when did he know cared about art project?

Anyway, it was because he raised his hand that the teacher paired you two for the assignment of presenting that work.

"I can only study if I'm outside. Meet me in the park near the school where there are also benches," he said as soon as the bell rang to signal the end of class.

"Oh, and know that I know nothing about that myth," he added before exiting the classroom.

Why on earth would you work on a presentation with him? Seungkwan, who had always thrown irritating comments at you, who rarely spoke to you, and whom you occasionally caught glancing at you with a dazed look?

You never understood him, and despite how much the mystery fascinated you, you chosed to ignore him.

So why did he want to come to the presentation with you?

But the next day, all of the above questions were answered.

When you were sitting on a park bench reading the story of Cupid and Psyche, he observed you silently with his eyes focused on you and your words, and the more you immersed yourself in the reading, the more he drowned into your story.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop himself from becoming distracted. And you served as his distraction.

Your lips moving quickly, your expressions changing, your eyes following the words, your hair swaying slightly in the wind, and your enthusiasm in your voice. He couldn't concentrate on anything else.

He tried to close his eyes to minimize distractions, but you stopped confused at his bizarre action.

You asked him if everything was okay, and when he opened his eyes again, your gazes met, but he couldn't hold it for long. He turned red and shifted his gaze, nodding and asking you to proceed.

You'd seen that the boy wasn't paying attention to the story, but as much as this annoyed you, you found his look charming, almost comforting.

You decided to put him to tease him anyway, repeating the same line or even skipping pages…but he was becoming gradually lost in your eyes.

He thought the park would help him control his feelings for you, but in the end, he had done nothing but reveal them.

"Am I that boring?"

"No! Absolutely Not. I enjoy your reading and your passion for it."

"Sure…Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes."

You decided to take advantage of the situation by getting closer to him as if to see if he was lying through his eyes.

"I'm not lying," he smirked as he moved closer to you. As if it were a challenge.

"Come on, you can read a little now," you said, handing him your book.

"Sure, now listen to me, the greatest orator!"

And now you're the one who's charmed by him, his voice, his passion…

You found yourself thinking that he was a goodlooking guy, good at reading, and mostly important that that myth seemed better when told by him.

You could see vividly Cupid and Psyche when Seungkwan talked about their beauty.

But also the story had become more enjoyable thanks to the funny comments he occasionally made.

As you were involved in his words and he read that myth, the time around you had shifted.

There were no more children in the park, the sky had darkened, and a cool breeze had blown in.

You both started shivering from the cold, but you didn't want to go without finishing the book.

He was getting close to the end when he began to sneeze frequently. He didn't appear to want to stop, so you gently handed him the scarf you had in your backpack.

"We can share it…if that's okay with you," he replied as he saw you hand over your scarf to him as you were also freezing to death.

"How?"

"Please tell me if it's okay," he asked as he set the book down and approached you.

You nodded instinctively, and he wrapped one end of the scarf over your neck and the other around his.

Fortunately, the scarf was quite long and properly fit the two of you; nonetheless, you had to come closer to each other to avoid hurting yourselves.

As the story came to a close, you were back to back.

Cupid had saved Psyche from the Underworld, and the two of them were now about to get married.

It wasn't until Seungwak stopped talking that you realized he was done, and you two were standing alone in a park, back to back, with a single streetlamp shining on you, your head resting against his and your eyes half-closed.

Even if you couldn't see it, his heart was racing, and his cheeks were flushed - not from the cold.

"We should do it again, don't you think?" and said yes to those barely whispered words from him.

And for a few more seconds before saying goodbye, you two stayed in that position, back to back, wrapped up in the same scarf, your hands now touching, your heartbeats quickening, and your eyes half-closed while smiling...

[askganon]

Sir, you do not know me, nor I you really, but despite the fact that we clearly have major philosophical differences, I still find you highly respectable. I haven't spoken to you as of yet due to this, as I have doubted that I could find a topic that would lead somewhere of benefit that others have not already asked at length about. All this is quite a long winded way to state that, now that I've actually thought of a topic to broach, I am genuinely curious as to your thoughts and do not speak on a whim and hope you may give my ramble some thought as well.

On the topic of alcohol (and any other drug/intoxicant that you may partake in for that matter), I am curious, what exactly do you find pleasurable about any of it and why do you believe you find it pleasurable? I have always found the feeling of drunkenness to be mildly annoying at best and highly distressing at worst. The same traits that others describe as positive have always been hellish to me. For the physical sensations others have described have always sounded identical to my experiences of things such as "being in extreme pain" and "recovering from surgery", which even being slightly tipsy tends to resemble for me. As for the social aspects, many say they find it easier to socialize and that it makes one more open to things, but if you are intending to meet others, wouldn't it be better to know their personality for how it is outside of intoxication? And if one is simply looking to have a good experience, wouldn't it be better to seek one that can be more easily remembered? And being around drunken folk while sober has never been pleasant either, as I find it to be closer to babysitting than anything. To each their own as they say, but I simply find this baffling, so I'd like to hear your thoughts. Perhaps this is simply something that is not meant to be fully known or understood, but to leave questions unanswered is against my nature. After all, a sickly child who grows into a sickly adult is often left only with the company of books, and that has long since given me a hunger to know everything I can. One of my flaws I suppose

And as this is much longer than I intended, I shall try to leave that thought here, I think. For it is late and I am stressed, as tonight is the anniversary of my birthday so tomorrow I will be expected to take part in celebrations that, as my culture dictates, will most certainly involve drinking. I expect the social pressures to be nearly as miserable as the act itself would be. For listening to my late night rambling, which I hope does not bore you, sarqso

Your patience alone to seek out a topic as of yet discussed already elevates you above the common rabble in my eyes, disagreements or no. For this, I will indeed take my own time in answering your original thoughts and inquiries to the extent of my ability.

First, allow me to dissuade any possible worries you may hold regarding my character when it comes to alcohol. I do not ingest it for the sole purpose of wild intoxication.

Many who imbibe do so for this reason, but I am not among them. When I drink, and understand that it is not a daily occurrence, I do so to feel an ease from my burdens.

There are seven stages of intoxication, ranging from sobriety to death. When I drink, I take care to keep myself within the first two stages; sobriety and euphoria. I need no further intoxication than them, and will keep myself within those controllable levels.

In extreme cases, and very rare moments, I have found myself delving into the third stage; excitement. However, I do not enter this stage lightly, and it is almost always with a host of Sisters that I have allowed myself such indulgence.

I am also aware that alcohol effects everyone differently. What has been a pleasant experience for me might be incredibly uncomfortable for you. There is no shame in this, as I have been in the company of many Gerudo who have preferred sobriety to intoxication. Likewise, I have known some Gerudo... and Hylian Kings, who preferred a lifetime of intoxication to a moment of sobriety.

It can be a tool of momentary release if it is controlled, or an unbreakable chain of misery and dependency if it is not. As with everything, it is fine in moderation.

When it comes to alcohol: learn your limits, and respect them.

[crguang]

I am genuinely curious how Kafka, Himeko, Black Swan, and Yukong react if they found a siren/elf reader. Btw thank you for responding to my previous ask, I really didn't expect that :D Also, can I be 🎹 anon?

ABSOLUTELY YOU CAN! that’s such an interesting concept, let me think…

swan would be kinda obsessed. she finds meaning in things people normally overlook, if she comes across a literal siren she’d go a bit crazy; she needs to know everything (who are you? where do you come from? the sea is a part of the world she wouldn’t know much about and she’s always been a curious soul). her way of getting answers would differ, i think. she usually lurks before making herself known as someone who holds all the answers you’re looking for in her cards, but this time she can’t afford to observe for long. she has no guarantee that she’ll see you again, after all, and she can’t miss this opportunity. she presents herself the same way she does everyone else; as someone who’s adept at listening to people’s woes and who simply seeks to make an exchange of memories. you’re not sure you trust this suave, elusive being at first but she doesn’t need you to. conversation is only a pretext, she’s already swimming in your memories and recording as much as she can if only to soothe her own burning curiosity. i don’t know if the remembrance has any need for mythical creatures’ memories but swan could just not let this once in a lifetime experience pass her by.

hime would be fascinated! she’s an adventurer at heart and not a lot of things can scare her. an elf? right in front of her?? she has to meet you. there’s not a lot recorded about your kind in the express’ data bank. another curious soul who won’t shy away from approaching you first; she’s so polite too! she’s good with words and at making the people around her feel at ease; the next thing you know, you’re telling her stories of your kin and she’s listening intently to every word out of your mouth. her attention is a precious thing, it makes you feel like you’re the most special being in the cosmos. himeko doesn’t stay in one place for too long, so it would be a once in a lifetime thing for her too, she would never miss that opportunity

kafka… i’m giggling at the thought of her getting enthralled by a siren’s song so let’s go with that. i mean, what’s the difference between that and her spirit whisper? getting a taste of her own medicine would annoy her really bad, but then she sees you and she’s like “…not the worst thing that’s happened to me.” the loss of control brings a mix of emotions; she’s not sure she likes it but at the same time, she’s deeply intrigued. not anyone can mess with her mind and get her to do their bidding, she’d be very on guard but wouldn’t run away. quite the opposite, she easily finds beauty in your appearance and would stay of her own volition even after getting her mind back. kafka’s very cautious, if it’s not scripted and she catches sight of you on a random wednesday, she’d keep her distance. she watches from afar and if you want to interact with her, you’ll have to approach her first. keeps the encounter to herself like it’s her own little secret and definitely visits once in a while in hopes of seeing you again

yukong my babyyy, i think she’d easily find some similarities between elves and foxians so she’d be very considerate of your boundaries. sensitive ears? hers too! i always think elves are kinda quiet, in the sense that they usually keep to themselves and don’t mingle with others, so you’d be a little hesitant to reveal anything to her. what’s nice about yukong is that she values peace of mind over most things. sit with her in open air, breathe in the scent of nature while the wind blows in your hair and it’s all she needs. you don’t need to tell her a thing, though if you do she gives you her full attention and is always respectful in her follow-up questions. she’s seen a lot of things, and sometimes forget that there will always be something that can surprise her. new experiences are a reprieve from her daily routine, so she’d keep that encounter very close to her heart <3

[cordidy]

Just a little OS i wrote based on the "Lucky Charms" theme for a discord server i'm on :) I don't like to use "MC" or "YN" so the character is named Deirdre and she is not the HL Mc, just a normal Hogwarts student.

TW : none, it's just cuteness

"What are you doing?" Deirdre jumped, surprised. She had been so focused on her search she had not heard Sebastian join her. The sun was setting, she did not have a lot of time left. "Searching for something," she answered, still focused on her task. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack but she had to find it. Sebastian came closer and started looking. He had no idea what he was looking for, but still. "And what are we searching for exactly?" He curiously asked. "A clover," Deirdre simply answered, getting on her knees to take a better look at the grass. Sebastian raised a suspicious eyebrow. "You are looking for a clover?" "Yep." "And you're having trouble finding one?" "Uh-huh" "In a...clover field?" Sebastian was known for being quite bright and quick but he had to admit, he was kind of lost right now. Deirdre got up, dusting her skirt before going to another patch of grass. "It's not just any clover, I need a 4-leaf one," she explained, and she had spent her last afternoon in Hogwarts looking for one, to no avail. "What do you need a 4-leaf clover for?" The young man asked, now intrigued. "Because it brings luck !" She answered him, almost annoyed he would ask such an obvious question.

The Slytherin looked at her, surprised. "Wait, are you trying to tell me that...grass can bring you luck?" In all the books he had read over the years, he had never heard something like that, even in the dustiest volumes of the Restricted Section. "Oh wait, is this one of your "Mugglery" again?" He added. It would make sense that Muggles and Wizards would have some differences in folklore, after all. Deirdre looked at him, confused. "Wait, you wizards don't believe in lucky charms?" She was back on her knees, searching. "Of course we do," the Slytherin answered, trying to not look at his friend's skirt moving with the wind, showing her calves. Over the 7 years they had known each other, he had seen how pretty she had become, coming from a small girl to a pretty young woman with long red hairs and freckles almost matching his. Of course he did not imagine himself courting his best friend, ever, especially now that they had graduated yet, he… remained a man...with eyes…and she was really pretty after all… "Unicorn hair for safe travel, golden foot mushrooms to bring wealth, these kinds of things” he recited to try and focus his mind on something else that wasn’t Deirdre crawling on all four. “But I did not know Muggles were into weed," he said with a little chuckle to tease her. "What do you even need luck for? The exams are over and you graduated with flying colors!" "I....I have a very important appointment tomorrow and I...I'll feel better with it that's all" she tried to brush it off in a casual tone. An important appointment? She had not told him anything about that and they shared...everything... "Wait, does it have something to do with you asking to stay at my place tonight ?" After the passing of his uncle and his sister a year later, Sebastian had inherited both Solomon's small home and his late parent's house in Hogsmeade.While he had started renting his uncle's house for some extra cash, he had planned to live in the family home although the thought of going back there on his own was painful. So, of course, when Deirdre asked if she could spend a couple of days with him, he had accepted right away, not even wondering about the reasons. In his mind, she just...did not have anywhere to go now that her parents had made it clear she was not welcome anymore since she was an adult and a witch. On the other hand, while the house was just a 2 bedroom place, Sebastian had plenty of room to share. "What big appointment?" He asked, looking at her a bit worriedly. It must have been quite something for her to keep it secret. "No....nothing important," she lied. He stopped searching for a clover and looked at her seriously. "Come on Deirdre, it's either an important appointment or nothing, can't be both" The young woman sighed before facing him, clearly uncomfortable. "I....I have a job...well, rather an apprenticeship interview" she said, looking away. "Really? Where?" The young man asked, now curious and rather excited. It was in Hogsmeade for sure, or at least in the region, which would explain the need for accommodation but there were several possibilities. "...der..." she muttered. "What?" "Ollivander!" She said louder, turning red as a tomato. Sebastian looked at her for a moment, clearly flabbergasted. "You're...Merlin, you're serious?!" "Yes..." Deirdre answered shyly before being smashed into a bear hug.

For the past 2 years Sebastian had played as a Beater in the Slytherin Quidditch team and had some issues realizing how strong he had become thanks to the hours of training. "Deirdre this....this is fucking awesome! Mr Ollivander never takes an apprentice and he chose you?! When?! How?!" "Not...not yet!" The young woman said, trying to wiggle her way out of her friend's embrace in vain. He was strong, but also quite heavy. “Re…remember when we had to bring your wand there to fix it?” “After Ominis sliced it in half…yeah…” it was still a hot topic, even two years after. “Well Mr Ollivander said…the wands in the shop…liked me?” Sebastian looked at her, puzzled. It was well known most wands had a mind of their own but…preferences? Feelings? That was new. “Like they wanted to see me around more often so…he offered a potential position to start as a baby wand maker” "So this is why you want your lucky grass? To pass the interview? You don't need that, you're a brilliant witch! The old Ollivander would be crazy not to train you!" Deirdre sighed. She knew she was a good student but this...this was a once in a lifetime chance. "I....I can't fail that interview, Seb. It's...it's my best opportunity so far...'' She looked desperate and ready to burst into tears from the pressure she was putting on her own shoulders. Sebastian took her hand, patting it gently."Sweetheart, you don't need a magic dandelion..." "Clover." "Clover to get that position." He got up, still holding her hand to help her up. "Look, how about we go to my home and you settle down and get your things ready for the interview while I prepare us a good dinner?" He suggested "Seb, no. You have quite the big day tomorrow, you need rest!" “Come on, it's just orientation day at St Mungos. They'll have us visit the place, give us some generic books to read before the classes start in September, nothing fancy” he said, pushing her gently back towards Hogsmeade by her shoulder "You, on the other hand, need calm, rest, and a good evening with an even better company to relax for your ‘not so big appointment’," he added with a smile. "Spending your night out looking for grass won't help, let me just take care of you tonight" Reluctantly, she followed him. As promised, the evening was exquisite, just like the food. She felt really relaxed after spending the evening talking about how she was planning on researching muggle's folklore to see if she might come up with new applications for wand crafting. “No wonder…how did you say it again? The wands like you? They’re probably into weed too,” he teased her as they were doing the dishes, earning a pinch in the stomach before Deirdre kissed Sebastian's cheek on her way to Anne's old room for a good night of sleep. When she woke up the next morning, Sebastian was already gone to Saint Mungo's but he had left her breakfast and a note on the kitchen table. You got this! Don't forget your lucky weed. See you tonight - S Deirdre let out a small chuckle when she saw, right next to his signature, a small 4-leaf clover

[jlf23tumble]

I read through your larry post and you mentioned the peace ring. Harry wore it last over a year ago in September and on the anniversary twitter larries were waiting for it to come back, they even wanted a harry london walk with him wearing it. That pap walk they would tolerate. When it didn't happen, they turned to louis. He had a show that day and wore a green shirt, olive green, olive like offering an olive branch, like asking for peace, bam peace ring was back! I cringed so hard when I read that but I used to be like that too so I couldn't even be mad. But then I started questioning my sanity and if everything else i believed about clues and messages larry was sending was wrong and made up. probably most of it. But then i think about the louis maison shirt on harrys house release day and I question it again. But I'm chill about all this. Maybe they broke up a long time ago or maybe they're on off, maybe still together, maybe in an open relationship. Whatever we'll never know so why stress about it. I think mostly on Tumblr everyone is more relaxed about it. It's the new larries who don't grasp any of this and think management is still controlling them and larry are blinking more code at us that are annoying as fuck.

anon 2: Not that anon, but thank you for your that brilliant long ask answer you just gave. I joined in this crazy H&L world only last January after I caught wind of the second E breakup and it really felt like "holy shit, there might really be something here, they really might be about to come out, etc." It's been an interesting time so far in the fandom, and I think I'm more in line with your way of thinking recently. Things just feel...meh. There's a weird coldness to the fandom right now, almost a forced belief like you mentioned in your previous answer. I'll always believe there was SOMETHING going on, but to this current day? Probably not. Thanks for your sanity. :)

-----

Amazed anyone read that long-ass answer, lmao, but thank you! As for thinking people on tumblr are somehow more relaxed about it, beg to differ, anon 1, based on a quick lurk just this sec, but kudos to you for keeping that dash locked down! Without much going on at the moment, it's quiet in the deep, so to speak, but make no mistake, it's out there, waiting! Even today, there are people out there saying, ooooh, tons of larry signs at Louis's show near the stage, and you could see how happy he was compared to last night!! Like, it's some kind of GOTCHA, ipso facto, and uh, yeah, that's not cause/effect, bb, but okay! Spread that shit! Live your version of the truth! For real, you can make ANYTHING a reach if you have the arm capacity for it, give me two pieces of something, and I'll stitch it for you, whole cloth, there's a 28 in it, I just know it. It's always so tempting to whip up a sideblog that goes full hog unhinged, like, jesus, it's not hard, lmao

[dailyunstableeve]

Dawn

Chapter (6/10)

Miguel O'Hara x My oc (Eve)

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .

It's Summer vacation right after Dawn/Eve and Miguel went to find Eve's biological parents. Ever since Miguel last saw Dawn, she has never appeared, even during summer.

The news was talking about Dawn, about her disappearance for the past months, no one knows what happened to her, they thought that her disappearance had brought some peace back to New York.

Miguel didn't really rest as well, he would show up at Riverside park sometimes, just to see if he could at least see Eve one more time. He would visit the stores around the area just to see if they heard anything from Eve, but when Miguel follows Eve's step around the neighborhood, he just can't find her at all. One time, he saw Chris sitting alone at the park, so he decided to walk up to him and ask if Eve was around.

"Eve wants me to tell you to walk away, she said that she doesn't need your help anymore, that's what she said," Chris sighed, "stop looking for her."

"I just need to see how she's doing, just once," Miguel said.

No one knows what exactly happened, only Miguel knows, which made him feel that he should be there for Eve, because he's the only one she can talk about this matter to.

"I can't help you, I'm her best friend and she told me not to let you see her," Chris said, "I don't know and don't want to know what you did to her or if it has something to do with you, just stay away from her," Chris walked away.

Miguel took a big sigh and sat on the bench.

★・・・・・・★

"Mr O'Hara."

Miguel jolted up from his bed, looking around, it's 3:46am, The only light in his room is his phone, a message.

"Rooftop."

Without a word, he put on his shirt and rushed up to the rooftop. The first sight he sees is a woman with long hair, standing on the edge of the rooftop, her hair moving as the night wind blows, the street light shining up, as if she's a night goddess.

Adrenaline hit him as he realized, it's Eve. The girl he's been searching for months.

"Sorry to wake you up, I'm just here to get my final piece of answer," Eve turned around, looked at Miguel, but Miguel couldn't really see Eve's expression due to the lack of lights on the rooftop.

"Why do you keep stepping out of your own boundaries to help me? From the Mr O'Hara I know, he wasn't someone who would help me. Even you are SpiderMan, you always give off the vibe that you would kill to get what you want but you just get extra dangerous but always hand the bad guys to the right hands," Eve speaks out her questions, remaining on the edge of the rooftop.

"Because you're annoying."

"What?"

"You're so annoying to be caught, if putting you to jail isn't the way, I want to save you," Miguel said.

"Is that a pity?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no."

Eve slowly walked up to Miguel, in a range Miguel could see her face clearly.

"I learned that, when a person grows up without getting the love and support they wish for, when one manages to give it to them, they grow attached to the person," Eve stated, "I may have grown attached to you Mr O'Hara, what should I do about it?"

Miguel stopped after what Eve told him. No one knows what he's thinking other than himself. He stared at the face in front of him, they were enemies, but what are they now? Miguel knows that he hasn't been himself ever since the Dawn is a daily villain for him, this woman in front of him, changed his lifestyle a lot. What's weird is, he likes it.

"Well, I know you wasn't ready for this, sorry to bother you while you sleep, Mr O'Hara, I hope you got nothing important to do tomorrow," Eve smiled as she kissed Miguel's cheek, she walk back to the edge of the rooftop, waving at Miguel, "goodnight Mr O'Hara," the shadow dropped, Miguel only back to his sense and jump off the rooftop as well.

Eve was planning to fly away after a few more floors down but when she saw Miguel jump off as well, she decided to not do anything but to continue to fall. Miguel panicked and shot out his web to catch Eve, pulling her up into his big arm.

"You just made yourself the important thing I need to do tomorrow, and stop calling me Mr," Miguel groaned while he carried Eve in his arms and climbed back up to his floor.

Seeing Miguel behaving like this made Eve laugh so hard that she couldn't stop, because this is an unexpected turn.

"You may speak and act like a cold person, but your heart and mind does say otherwise," Eve chuckled.

"Stop making fun of me."

★・・・・・・★

"Eve!"

"Eve!"

Music blasting in the practice room, she's recording for her final assignment before the test.

"Eve!" The music got cut off, it's Chris who pulled the plug.

"Yea?" Eve took off her headphones, innocently looking at Chris.

"What do you mean by you're going to quit?" Chris held up a piece of paper, "I found it in your locker, because you asked me to clean it a few days ago."

"Oh shit, I forgot to not put it there," Eve awkwardly chuckled.

"I think as your best friend, I deserve to know why," Chris crossed his arm.

"There's something I gotta do, it would take at least a year, and we're supposed to graduate next year which I won't be here," Eve explained.

Eve and Miguel planned after their last meeting, she was gonna kill off Dawn, let that past sink down to the bottom.

"So please let me finish my last assignment? Let me be the last person who scores the highest in their senior years," Eve begged.

"Fine," Chris plugged back the plug and sat on a random seat, watching Eve finish her assignments.

He would never know that thing will change after this time.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .

Prev~

Next~

[band--psycho]

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader-All The Words That Should Have Been Said

A huge thank you to the lovely Anon that requested this story!

This is my first ever Bridgerton request so I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

(Don't worry I will be writing a part 2 for this!)

Anthony Bridgerton Masterlist / Bridgerton Masterlist

Sleep, that’s all I wanted. Just a good night's sleep and once again this was denied to me, however this time it was not through the fault of my own overthinking mind. No, this time it was down to the constant knocking on my door. I’d tried to ignore it, in hopes that eventually whoever was at the door would get bored and go away, but whoever it was seemed to be adamant on annoying me.

“If you insist on practically banging down my door would you mind doing it at a more sociable hour?” I whispered, the frustration evident in my voice as I opened the door.

And that’s when I saw the one and only, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton standing at my door.

The Viscount and I had always had a bit of an odd relationship. We’d been friends for years, and when he returned from Oxford our friendship just seemed to grow; most evenings I’d be round his house until the early hours, both of us discussing anything and everything to do with our lives and the latest books we’d read. Other days we’d just sit in silence, reading, or strolling through the gardens, just enjoying one another’s company.

There were brief moments where I thought we could be something more than friends, but I never fully allowed myself to think of that idea for too long, the fear of ruining our many years of friendship holding me back.

Though try as I might, the feelings didn’t seem to fade, instead they just seemed to grow the longer I spent in his company.

So I began to distance myself from him and when his father died the distance between us only grew.

We’d see each other at social gatherings of course, and we would talk whilst we were in public but that was about it.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, a panicked tone lacing his voice as his eyes met mine.

I rolled my eyes at his comment, trying to ignore how scared he truly looked.

It was certainly not a look I’d ever seen on his face often in all the years I’d known him.

“Well then, you best come in, my Lord,” I said, pulling the door back a little, allowing him to enter my family home, thankful that my parents were away in the country for a few days to look after my grandmother. All the while ignoring the potential of anybody seeing him enter my house; a man and a woman unchaperoned was always something that made the gossips of the towns talk.

“Can I get you a drink-”

“I am to duel at dawn,” Anthony interrupted, making my heart almost stop mid beat.

“What?” I exclaimed, trying to process the words that had fallen from his lips. I could feel my heart start to beat faster and faster as I stared at him, knowing that the same panic that was in his eyes at the door were now mirrored in my own.

Anthony was a skilful man but he was a terrible shot, though he’d never admit to most.

“I am to duel at dawn,” he repeated, his voice even quieter now.

“Who? Why? ” I questioned, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of me, the questions just continued to roll off my tongue.

“I cannot tell you,” He sighed, lowering his gaze from mine.

I knew Anthony, the years may have put a distance between us but he was not a violent man, not unless he felt like he had to be.

“Cannot or will not?” I countered, but Anthony just shook his head.

“Whatever it is, is it really worth dying for?”

He didn’t answer my question but I could tell by the way he looked at me, told me it involved his family. His family were the only thing that Anthony would risk his own life for.

“Why are you here, Anthony?” I asked, trying so hard to work out what it was he was actually here for, he wasn’t here to talk about why he was doing this and there were certainly other people he could see tonight rather than an old close friend.

“I needed to talk to you,” he stated.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I sighed, feeling utterly confused, “You could be with your family right now…”

“I’ve spoken with my brothers, prepared Benedict for if the worst should happen,” he began, moving closer towards me.

“But what I need to tell you cannot come from anyone else but me,” he continued, his words softer than they had been recently.

“All these years, we’ve been friends, friends that have danced around our feelings for one another, acting like they do not exist, neither of being brave enough to say the words we’ve both wanted to say to each other-”

“Anthony-” I whispered, knowing that if I heard those three words that I’d dreamt about hearing before, I would not let him walk out that door to that duel.

I wanted to say it to him.

I wanted to hear him say it to me.

The three words that would bind our hearts together until we were old and grey.

I could not hear those words if he was going to die tomorrow; my heart would not be able to take it.

Knowing that what I thought was unrequited love was anything but.

“You can tell me tomorrow,” I breathed out shakily, raising my hand to his face, caressing his cheek softly. He mimicked my action, wiping away a tear I didn’t even know had fallen from eyes before wrapping his other arm around my waist, pulling me closer into him.

All I wanted to do right now was kiss him, to hold him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay.

But that could not happen, for those words would be a lie, and the intimacy we were both craving would be a sin, one that could damage both of our families reputation if he…if he died tomorrow. And he knew that just as I did.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear before resting his head on my shoulder, pulling me even closer into his embrace.

“So am I,” I admitted, wishing I had some type of magical machine that allowed me to go back in time so that I could tell Anthony all the words I’d kept hidden in my heart for so long.

Words that now neither of us might never get to say depending on the outcome of tomorrow.

All either of us could do now was enjoy this moment.

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[ptergwen]

hi I saw your requests were open if there not anymore you can completely ignore this :). but could you do a boyfriend!peter x reader where he loves it when reader gives him those little kisses on his nose and freckles with head scratches please. feel free to change or completely ignore this <3

thousands of tiny stars

pretend i haven’t used this

warnings: a couple suggestive jokes but the rest is just floofy fluff

a/n: i got carried away as per usual and i did end up changing it a tiny bit :/ emphasis on tiny tho lmfhsjfh you’ll see ! either way i hope you enjoy mwah

-

one thing about peter is that he absolutely can’t sit still under any given circumstances. he’s restless, like a burning ball of energy that’s brightness never dims.

because of this, he tries to and needs to keep himself occupied and be kept occupied every second of every day.

it’s sometimes playing with his fingers or your own, which peter prefers because he gets to hold your hand. other times, it’s tapping his favorite pink glitter pen relentlessly against the kitchen table while he conjures up homework answers.

aunt may isn’t very fond of that one.

this time, it’s constantly shuffling about the couch in the name of finding comfort.

peter starts off with an arm around your shoulders and a content grin on his face. you two agreed on mean girls for the first movie of your marathon, your head resting against peter’s chest as the tv steals your attention.

a few minutes in, peter decides he feels like being held rather than holding you. he sneaks his way down your body, lets himself nudge your thighs to wordlessly communicate what he wants. you of course oblige and switch positions accordingly.

peter lays his head in your lap, taking the opportunity to stare up at you instead of at the screen.

he finds himself shifting around again not too much later. now laying on the couch’s armrest on his side, he kicks his feet into your lap where his head just was.

you’re becoming slightly annoyed with his fidgeting. his explanations of sorry, just trying to get comfortable and innocent smiles are what stop you from complaining.

“that’s strike three, parker,” you joke, eyes leaving the movie to fix on him. peter crosses his arms over his chest. “i dunno what you’re talking about, y/l/n,” he insists. “i haven’t done anything remotely strike-worthy so far this evening.”

flicking his sock clad foot, you mutter your response. “debatable.” peter dismisses you with a huff. “whatever. c’mere… i miss you.” he makes grabby hands for you, like the big baby he is.

it’s quite endearing, though.

“i’m right here, pete,” you laugh out and return your gaze to mean girls. “and yet, you’re so far,” peter counters. “come gimme cuddles.”

you sigh lightheartedly, your ever so clingy boyfriend still reaching out for you. a smirk pulls at your lips.

“well, there’s an offer i can’t refuse.”

peter adjusts so he’s sitting criss cross, bouncing excitedly in his spot. his chocolate brown curls fall in all directions, form being swallowed by an oversized stark industries hoodie that he keeps having to roll up the sleeves of.

he looks so soft and snuggly in anticipation of your cuddle session. you can’t believe you were ever annoyed at him.

slightly annoyed.

he’s so eager that when you scoot the tiniest bit towards him, he literally pulls you into his lap. peter’s arms hug you around your lower back, you laughing quietly as he peppers a trail of kisses from your cheek to the side of your neck.

the movie long forgotten about, you wind your arms around his neck and tilt your chin up.

“pete?” you breathe out. peter pecks your cheek once more, then your other, beaming. “yeah, babe?” he wonders. with a half serious half teasing glare, you wonder, “are you comfy now?”

peter ponders your question, and from the skeptical furrowing of his eyebrows and biting of his lip, you have your answer. he’s about to make you regret asking.

it seems that as soon as you settle, peter gets antsy.

“uh, actually…” he strokes his thumb along the underside of your chin, smiling apologetically. “you mind if we lie down? ‘m kinda tired.” there it is. you roll your eyes. “how could you not be? you’ve been playing musical chairs all night.”

your words earn a chuckle from peter, though they’re at his expense. “this’ll be the last round, promise,” peter swears and seals the deal with a kiss to your chin, which is currently grasped between his fingers.

you know it won’t be. the game goes on forever with peter, unless you end it yourself.

“damn right, bug boy. move another inch after this and you can consider your cuddle privileges revoked,” you grumble, getting off of peter’s lap. he stares at you in pure horror, gasping. “you wouldn’t…” “i would,” you correct him.

not aiming to test that theory, peter quickly fumbles around and lays flat against the cushions. he wills himself to be stiff as a board. you seem satisfied with that, climbing on top of him with your face hovering above his.

peter sets his hands on your hips, grip strong. he closes the space between you both with a short kiss. you reciprocate and deepen it, turning short to long as your parted lips slot with his. his tongue darts out, already skimming over your bottom lip for more access.

you hum into his mouth and allow his tongue to slide in. peter kisses you so tenderly as he rubs circles on your hips, your fingers tangling in his locks simultaneously. you weave them up to his roots, using your nails to gently scratch at his scalp just the way he likes. he breaks the kiss to let out a noise close to a moan.

“that- that… oh, god yeah,” peter praises, his eyes fluttering closed. you’re amused at how easily pleased he is. “don’t cream your pants yet, pete. i’m just getting started,” you purr. peter squeezes your hips in response. “feels better than an orgasm, babe. i’m serious, too,” he murmurs.

you continue your handiwork in his hair and lean in for another kiss. peter merely pecks your lips before jerking away.

“wait, hold that thought,” he exhales a breathy laugh. “i gotta pee.”

he has to be kidding. again with this?

“oh no, you don’t,” you deadpan, pushing against his shoulders to hold him down. “oh yes, i do,” peter retorts. “let me go, y/n/n.”

peter could definitely slither out from underneath you if he truly wanted to. he has super strength, so the might of his teenage girlfriend doesn’t quite compare.

pinning him in place, you straddle his waist. “nope, you’re gonna stay. i’m not giving you a choice in the matter.” peter attempts to pry you off of him, but you won’t budge. “y/n, my bladder is gonna explode-“

he cuts himself off with a giggle when your lips begin to attack him. you kiss down the bridge of his nose lightly, peck each freckle dotting his skin, and the amount of them is infinite. peter’s fit of giggles continues as you smooch that pretty face of his, his cheeks dusted pink and hands coming up to support you by your sides.

he’s always been a little insecure about his freckles. they don’t suit him, there are too many of them, blah blah blah. you obviously couldn’t disagree more. you think they’re sick.

you’d once even told him they look like thousands of tiny stars, and peter does love stars. he also loves the kisses you tend to randomly surprise him with to remind him to appreciate his freckles the same way you do.

“okay, okay! i’ll stay!” peter concedes, you ruffling his hair and pressing a final kiss to the tip of his nose. he grins despite himself, and secretly wishes you wouldn’t stop. “but, if my kidneys fail… it’s on you.”

you pat his chest definitively.

“good thing you’re a fast healer.”

[jamesbuchananxsteviegrant]

I Pick the TV Show, Rogers Shuts His Cake-Hole | Bucky x Steve x Reader (Angst, Fluff)

Category: Angst, Fluff (Suggested) Age: 14+ Trigger Warnings: none, other than the standard explicit language Ship: Bucky x Steve x Reader Summary: Steve Snaps At Reader When He’s Stressed, Resulting In Her Being Very Upset Request: "can u write where steve/bucky is overwhelmed with something and when reader asks to help or is telling them to relax they snap at reader and reader is hurt which makes them feel really bad afterwards. thank you sm. i love ur writings. and this is anon right? is it alright if u dont post my response if its not anon? im sorry. thank you so much. ur blog always pictures great stucky imagines. 💗💗💗" Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2,488

---

A given, the super-soldier had been on nonstop missions for the last month or so, but she thought she was helping him feel better, not making him feel worse.

“Would you like anything to eat, Stevie? You’ve barely moved all day.” (Y/N)’s voice is small. Quiet.

She’s leaning through the door of his study where he’s sat putting together his mission reports from the last three or four missions he’s been out on.

He shakes his head but doesn’t even turn to look at her.

Sighing, the woman walks further into the room where her boyfriend is slouched over the desk.

“You gotta take a break, Stevie.” She whispers, resting her hands on his shoulders.

She notices the way they tense up, but he still remains silent.

His fingers continue to write up his report on the laptop.

“I’m worried about you, Stevie; talk to me.”

“I’m busy, (Y/N).”

“I know you are, baby, but you’ve gotta look after yourself too.” She attempts, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls away.

The woman furrows her brows.

“Steve, please, you’ve got to-”

“(Y/N), just stop!”

The shout is sudden and it makes her flinch back away from the man as he turns to face her.

“I’m fine, alright?! I don’t need you babying me all the time!”

She doesn’t respond for a second, surprised at her lover’s outburst.

He says nothing more, simply turns back to the laptop and continues typing away.

“Steve, look how stressed you are. Can you please just-”

“STOP! Okay?! Just stop! Leave me the fuck alone while I finish these neverending mission reports. For once in your life can you just understand that not everything is about you?!”

(Y/N) swears that being shot in the heart wouldn’t hurt half as much as the words that just came out of the man’s mouth.

Her mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right words to say, but that hurt.

Is she really that bad? Is that the truth behind all of this? That she’s clingy? Thinks everything is about her? That was never her intention. (Y/N) is well aware of how important being an Avenger is. Hell, she is an Avenger, for Christ’s sakes.

She says nothing more and leaves the room.

She can’t even decide if she feels sad. No. She’s not sad, she’s not angry, she’s not… anything.

Numb.

Naturally, her feet lead her to their room. Steve’s room. They all basically share the super soldier’s abode since they all got together, but right now she doesn’t dare open the door.

Doing a full one-eighty spin, (Y/N) takes herself back to a place she barely touches anymore. Her room.

It’s pretty empty. Most of her clothes are in Steve’s room, in her own walk-in wardrobe. Her bed is perfectly made from the last time she slept in here - maybe a year ago?

The woman walks around her bed and straight onto her bedroom balcony, overlooking the lake at the back of the compound, and stays there. For three-hours. Until Bucky comes looking for her.

He came home from his mission about thirty-minutes ago only to find their shared room of Steve’s empty. He searched just about everywhere, completely clueless.

“FRIDAY, where’s (Y/N) and Steve?” He finally gives in.

“Captain Rogers is in study five, and Agent (L/N) is in her private quarters.”

Now that makes the brunet furrow his brows.

Why would (Y/N) be in her room and not his or Steve’s?

He prioritises finding (Y/N) first, knowing Steve will be writing up mission reports, no doubt.

Despite them being together for over six-years now, he hesitates when reaching for the handle of her bedroom door. Instead, the man opts to knock.

No answer.

“(Y/N)?” Nothing. “Doll, it’s me; can I come in?” Nothing.

Bucky tries the door handle and finds it unlocked, yet still hesitates.

“Baby?” He calls out. Again, nothing.

He’s cautious now. Scared.

Her room looks as untouched as the last time he saw it, which was a few months back when she was after one of her plushies.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s when he feels the chill of the midnight winds ruffle his hair that he realises her balcony doors aren’t fully closed.

Striding straight over, his eyes widen at the sight of his girlfriend curled up in the corner of the outdoor area, crying.

“(Y/N), baby, hey, what’s wrong?!”

Bucky immediately drops to his knees in front of the woman, reaching for her hands and gently tugging them away from her tear-stained face.

“(Y/N), doll, look at me.” His voice is gentle. Soothing.

She does almost instantly but her sadness stays.

“What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

The fear and sincerity in his voice is enough to prompt the woman to shake her head. Yes, she’s hurting emotionally, but he needs confirmation that she’s not dying.

The woman immediately sees the relief take over his features, but he’s still concerned.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

Her eyes stray away from his, not wanting to tell him what’s got her so upset.

“Hey, no, look at me, baby,” He whispers, hand lightly grasping at her chin to raise her face back up to his. “What’s got you so worked up, (Y/N)?”

Another shake of her head as she tries to escape her lover’s hold.

“Baby, please, you’re scaring me.”

Her face contorts into something close to heartbreak as she wants nothing more than to reassure the man in front of her.

“It’s okay, Buck.”

“It’s not okay! Doll, I haven’t seen you cry since Stevie nearly died on that mission in Ohio like two-years-ago! Talk to me.”

She takes a deep breath and wipes her face of the shedding tears.

“Do you want me to get Stevie?”

The question is innocent and makes sense, but her eyes widen and she shakes her head desperately.

“No! No, please, no.”

That truly makes the super soldier concerned.

“Doll, please can you tell me what’s happened?”

Never in the last eight-years that Bucky and (Y/N) have known each other has she been so reluctant to see Steve.

Another sob escapes her and it’s breaking his heart.

“Baby, please.”

“Steve got mad at me, alright?!” She manages an attempted shout. “I just wanted him to look after himself.”

“What happened? What did Steve do?”

He’s concerned. Massively.

“I was trying to get him to eat; he hasn’t eaten properly in so long. He’s so overworked and he’s hung up on all these mission reports. He told me that not everything was about me - shouted at me; told me to stop.” She’s whimpering and sniffling again now. “Please get him to eat something, James.”

That last sentence is the one that crushes him. She’s upset, yeah, but above all that, she’s still worried about the blond super soldier.

“Come on, baby, let’s go to our room and get into bed, yeah? I’ll go and speak to Stevie.”

Her eyes meet his and she looks scared, but the ocean blue gaze that he returns makes her bound to his every command.

The woman nods.

“Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

With the help of the Winter Soldier, (Y/N) manages to stand up, letting him lead her out of her private room and into their shared one of Steve’s.

“Here, let’s get you into your PJs, yeah?”

He doesn’t leave room for negotiation as he helps his girlfriend strip out of her casual dress and into one of his oversized t-shirts.

“You get snuggled up in bed, doll. I’m going to go and get Stevie, okay?”

He hates how she looks nervous at the mention of their other lover’s name.

“He loves you more than words can describe, baby girl, I promise you. He shouldn’t have lashed out at you, I’m gonna talk to him, okay?”

A hesitant nod and forced smile is enough for now.

“I’ll be back shortly, I promise.” He leans over and gives the woman a kiss on the lips, leaving her with one of her favourite shows playing on the TV.

“Bucky,” Her choked up voice calls out just before he leaves.

The man turns from his place in the doorway.

“I love you.”

The smile that takes over his expression is contagious.

“I love you too, baby girl. More than anything.”

Despite his reassurance to the woman, he’s pretty damn pissed for a number of reasons about Steve losing his cool with their girl. Reason number one being, how dare he? Reason number two being, he knows better than to overwork, yet here we are.

Bucky doesn’t even knock once he approaches the glass doors of the study where Steve is sat typing away on the laptop.

The blond doesn’t even glance up to see who entered. He barely heard the door open which enrages Bucky further.

The brunet slams the lid of the laptop shut without saying a word, prompting Steve’s head to shoot up, glaring daggers at whoever has interrupted him.

“What the fuck, James?!”

That makes Bucky really get annoyed.

“Are you serious right now, Rogers?”

“I’m in the middle of about seven different mission reports, Buck, I’ve gotta finish them.” The man sighs, going to open the lid of the PC once more, only for Bucky to hold it down. “James, seriously,”

“No. What you need to do is explain to me why our girlfriend has been crying for the last God-knows how many hours?”

That makes Steve snap back to reality.

“What? (Y/N) has been crying? Is she okay?”

Bucky literally rolls his eyes at that.

“Are you fucking serious, Steve?” He repeats, Steve looking confused, expression contorting as he realises that his boyfriend is seriously angry at him.

“Bucky, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

The Winter Soldier’s head lolls back as he groans in frustration.

“You seriously have no idea?” He asks, rhetorically, watching Steve look almost scared. “Do you often shout at your girlfriend and forget it happened?”

Cap’s eyes widen at that, and he visibly gulps.

“What?”

“She came in here to make sure you were looking after yourself, which you weren’t, by the way, and you tell her that not everything is about her?! Are you fucking stupid, Steve?!”

He remembers it all too well in that moment, turning his head down to avoid the frustrated glare of his male lover.

“No. No, you don’t get to look away from me. Look at me.” Bucky demands, watching the blond super soldier reluctantly do so. “I come home from my own exhausting mission, search for (Y/N) for thirty-minutes, and find her crying her God-damn heart out on the balcony of HER room; not our room, Steve, no. Her room.”

Steve’s heart shatters and his eyes widen once more.

(Y/N) hates staying in her room. She’d always be in his or Bucky’s without a doubt.

“I- Buck-”

Bucky shakes his head and stands back upright as Steve is lost for words.

“I’m not mad at you, Steve. I get it, you know? You’ve been overworking for the last month, I know you’re stressed, but fuck, baby, you can’t hurt her like that. Do you know how much my heart fucking shattered when I saw her curled up in the corner of her own God-damn balcony?! It tore me apart. She hasn’t cried since you nearly fuckin-” Bucky chokes on his own word as he walks away from his lover.

“I’m sorry! Buck, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have let Fury send me on that many missions, I- I should’ve said no. I’m sorry.” Steve attempts, standing up and following the brunet, turning him around to face him once more.

“It’s not me you need to be apologising to, Stevie.”

Captain America nods and leans up to press a kiss to the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry, James.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

“I forgive you. Of course I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it, but I swear to God, if you hurt her again…”

Steve is already shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t dream of either of you getting hurt. Where is she?”

“Our room.”

He nods and begins heading toward the woman to which he owes more than he can give.

The door is half ajar when Steve gets there, he slowly opens it to reveal his girlfriend in all her glory, curled up under their Captain America themed duvet - which Sam bought the trio as a joke last Christmas. Her face is clear-as-day red from her earlier upset, and it breaks his heart.

The man knocks gently on the day as if not to startle the poor girl.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He offers a solemn smile when she turns to see who’s there.

He hates the way he can see her hesitation to speak to him as opposed to her usual squeal of his name, arms opening wide to welcome him into her cuddle-fest.

“Hi.” She manages, forcing her own smile.

There’s silence floating between them, the only sound being Jensen Ackles, in his role of Dean Winchester, talking a load of nonsense about pie on the TV that’s streaming Supernatural.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Steve manages, taking a step toward the bed. “Nothing can excuse the way I yelled at you, and I’m so sorry for that, but, sweetheart, trust me when I say I didn’t mean it. I was so stupidly stressed, and I should never have let it get to that point.”

She nods, truly believing his words, but it still hurt.

The blond sits down on the edge of the bed, not daring to cuddle his girlfriend until she’s comfortable.

“I love you so much, (Y/N) (L/N).”

A bigger smile taints her lips at that.

“I love you too, Steven.” Her voice is barely a whisper but he hears it clear as day.

“Can I hold you?”

(Y/N) smiles and shakes her head as if he was being silly.

“You never need to ask permission for that, Stevie. No matter what.”

With another sad smile, he pulls the woman into his arms and holds her tighter than ever before.

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I forgive you, but no more missions for a while.” She whispers.

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky’s leaning against the doorframe, watching the interaction. He took a detour to Tony’s office and made sure to give the billionaire a piece of his mind about making sure Fury didn’t have Steve on any missions for a long time.

“Is this the last episode?” The brunet speaks up, stripping himself of his clothes as he enters their room properly.

“Yeah.” (Y/N) nods.

“I still think we should watch Vampire Diaries instead.” Steve chuckles, mirroring Bucky’s actions.

“I pick the TV show, Rogers shuts his cake-hole.” (Y/N) teases, mocking a line from Supernatural and snuggling herself in the middle of the bed, sandwiched between the two super soldiers - where she belongs. “I love you both.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Love you always, doll.”

TAGS

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Stucky x Reader Only Tag List: polarbearnamedpanda | @marvelous-glims

SFW Only Tag List: @piper-koko-barnes-rogers

[imtooscaredforthis]

Antagonist

Chapter Fifteen: Future Plans

Mentions of: Drugs, Slight Angst, Feelings, Feelings, Lots of Feelings, Lots of Banter, etc.

A/N: This is probably one of my all time favorite chapters I’ve ever written oh my god

Tags: @vandeaad @mama-miya @dead-bxxxtch-walking @prettycutebunny @froegis

It’s been a long while since you talked with Susie. You don’t want to talk to her, and if you do see her again by chance anytime soon, you’ll apologize. You weren’t a good friend to her, and you used her as a placeholder for your sister. But she’s not your sister, and she never will be.

You realized that you were grieving, that you accepted the fact that you’re going to spend eternity here. But why do you have to? Maybe there’s a way out and the others just don’t know about it yet. Maybe you can escape.

You asked around, and none of the survivors knew anything, but maybe they just gave up too quickly. But you’re not going to give up, you’re going to find a way out of here if it’s the last thing you do. You’ll die trying if you have to.

And now, here you stand, in your cabin, staring down at the notes you’ve written on The Entity, blunt in hand, listening to your music. Smoking gives you clarity and helps you think of new things.

It also helps with the anxiety you’ve been suffering from. Talking with survivors like Bill, Leon and Kate helps too, but it can only do so much. Plus, you’ve been very irritable lately, and you don’t want to ruin anymore of the friendships you already have. It’s better to distance yourself, so you won’t miss them when you escape. But you know no matter what, you probably will.

As you stared down at the drawings in your journal, you listened closely to the music playing.

The door was open and the wind appeared, The candles blew and then disappeared,

The curtains flew and then he appeared, saying “don’t be afraid”

You were so consumed in the song that you hadn’t even realized someone was waiting at your door.

She had become like they are, She had taken his hand,

She had become like they are, Come on baby, Don’t fear the Reaper

As the song ended, you heard the loud banging against the door, making you jump. Pulling off your headphones and pausing your tape, you walked over and answered it, shocked by who was standing there.

“Frank?” How did he get here? How does he know your cabin? Has he been here before? What does he want? The last thing you need right now is another Legion member at your place and in your buisness.

Before any of those questions could be answered, he pushed past you, letting out an annoyed huff and walking inside. “Finally, it took you long enough.”

“Jeez, make yourself comfortable, why don’t you?” You growled in annoyance, watching as he plopped down on your bean bag chair, removing his mask and tossing it onto your bed.

“Listen, Toots, I’m not in the mood to play this game right now. I spared you and gave you my weed. You let me stay here for a bit, and we’ll call it even.” He told you.

“Wait, I owe you for not killing me when it’s basic human decency? Seriously?” You remarked snarkily.

“You know killers get punished if they don’t kill anyone. We don’t get a choice. Now, I know you’ve been smoking, I can smell it. So can you please pass the blunt here?” He asked.

You snickered at that, picking up the blunt and handing it to him. “So you do have manners.”

“Sometimes. But just like most people, I only have manners when I really want things.” He admitted with a smirk, making you chuckle.

You decided to take a little break from your research, sitting down on the bed beside him. If you weren’t so baked right now, you’d probably be yelling at him and kicking him out. But you’re relaxed and you don’t care, since you’re going to be gone soon. You might as well just stop giving a fuck and let go for a bit.

“So why are you here?” Frank just shrugged in response. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know the answer to that himself.

He was just pissed. He and Julie got into yet another fight and he just can’t deal right now. He couldn’t stay at the lodge, he just had to leave, and the next thing he knew, he was standing at your door, knocking.

He didn’t even know if you would answer or if he could even come into your lodge, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to talk to The Legion or some other killer. He just wanted to see you. And he has no idea why.

“What were you doing before I got here?” He replied, taking a hit from the blunt and glancing over at your journal on the table. “You didn’t answer my question, why should I answer yours?”

“Fine. You don’t have to answer it. I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.” He jumped up from the beanbag chair, running over to your desk. Catching on to what he was doing, you followed after, trying to stop him. But he was too fast.

Using one hand to hold you back and the other to flip through your journal, he read it, ignoring all your yelling and swearing, and clawing at him to get your journal back. Finally, you managed to push him away, snatching it from his grip.

Angrily, you threw it into your drawer, slamming it shut. “Fuck you! Get out! Get out now!”

“Okay, okay, no, I’m sorry, alright? I’ll stop.” He laughed at your attempts to push him out of the cabin, before becoming sincere. That’s the first time you've ever heard an apology from him, and for some reason, a small part of you likes seeing this side of him. So you let him stay.

“Those drawings you did were good. Those sketches were The Entity, right? And that girl…is she your-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumbled, picking up the blunt that had fallen on the floor during the struggle, taking a long drag.

You sat back on your bed, leaning against the wall, while Frank returned to the bean bag. “Do you ever want to leave this place?”

“Of course. I mean, it does have its perks, but it’s also a shithole. Believe it or not, I miss the real world, no matter how horrible and corrupt the people are in it. I miss feeling things, besides just rage and blood lust.” He confessed.

“Well you do feel things other than bloodlust and anger, otherwise we wouldn’t be sitting like this.” You told him, passing him the blunt.

He grinned at you. “I guess so, but those feelings are muted. It’s like I’m forgetting how to feel them.”

You nodded, feeling a similar way. You suppose since you’ve been here for a shorter period of time, you’re more intact with your feelings, feeling anger, depression, but also hope. Still, your feelings of fear and despair can be much stronger at times.

“What about you?” He asked.

“More than anything. I miss my sister so much. She was my whole world. Sometimes, she was the only thing that kept me going, and now, I lost her, and I can’t- fuck. Sorry, this sounds so cheesy.” You admitted, cringing at your words. You tried your best to swallow the lump in your throat, holding back tears.

It was silent for a couple of minutes, before Frank spoke again. “Well, if you did get back, what do you think you’d do?”

“Probably make up for lost time with my sister, and work as a tattoo artist.” You replied with a shrug.

“Tattoo artist, that's cool. Do you have any tattoos?” He questioned, intrigued by this new side of you. You gave him a sly smirk. “A few. My Father hated tattoos, so I just had to get some and hide them from him.”

You turned your back to him, showing the sparrow tattooed on your left shoulder blade. Most of the time it’s hidden with the flannel you wear, but you’re just in your tank top right now, so he can see. “Of course you’d get a bird tattoo.”

You whipped your head when you heard that, glaring at him. “What do you mean, ‘of course?’ You’re the one who has a flaming skull tattoo. That just screams angsty teen wannabe bad boy.”

“Fuck you.” He spat with a chuckle and you laughed with him. His laughter sounded so warm and genuine, not like the bitter and menacing laughter you heard before.

His smile faded and suddenly, he got to his feet. He must’ve been called to a trial. “I gotta go. But I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.” You waved, watching as he left.

Maybe Frank isn’t so bad, after all.

[seawater-aurelia-writing]

The Break

Pairing(s): Fem!MC/Yuu/Reader x TBD

Summary: MC finally shuts down from all of her acts of helping with overblots and the countless favors/demands that are asked of her. When the Prefect of Ramshackle is the one who needs help, who steps forward?

WARNINGS

I am not the best at labeling warnings or triggers but I can say that this story is laden with neglect, self-neglect, anxiety, possible depression and attempts to justify the above. There could be more labels that I can add but i’m unsure how to word them - so please exercise caution.

Quick Note: The reader in this story is largely based upon Cinderella, for multiple reasons (#1 being that I want to and #2 being that I absolutely love Cinderella and think she’s amazingヾ(•ω•`)o ) . If that type of character behavior annoys or offends you, I recommend skipping this!

She should have seen it coming; The break. Her break.

Her sight blurred with tears, which spilled over her eyes  quickly as she laid upon the floor of the library – cold and alone. In front of her, just out of reach, laid her phone amidst the plentiful books which laid strewn chatoticly across the floor from her harsh tumble. Her phone vibrated constantly cause M/C o flinch as she imagined the messages that must be flying across her notifications; Her friends and upperclassmen asking for favors and why she hadn’t completed what they asked.

‘I need to… get up.’ She thought to herself, willing herself to move her arms but her body was more akin to cold, ancient steel, a machine that had been abandoned and forgotten throughout time; It felt nothing like how she was a month ago, a week ago, a few hours ago. ‘ I have.. so much left to do.’

As she tried to find the will to stand – M/C thought of how she ended up in this position; body battered and bruised after falling from the top of the ladder in the deserted corner of the library.

 She could barely life her feet as she made her way down the path, back towards Ramshackle Dorm. In her arms, Grim lay curled into her chest as he slept peacefully in her arms.

‘We both had a long day.’ MC mused to herself, gently pressing his closer as the cold, wintry wind blew harder. She recounted their day slowly, going over each task they had accomplished.

Crowley wished for them to wake up earlier to remove unwanted, viney weeds from around the campus gates, Sam’s Store, and the fencing around the Flying Course field in exchange he’d give them some aid to finally repair their roof. Unable to refuse such an offer, M/C awoke at 3 am to be able to accomplish all of the weeding.

However, Grim had not woken to any of her calls or he just ignored her, leaving M/C to venture into the darkened morning on her own to do the weeding.

After 2 hours, when she was finally able to head back to Ramshackle to freshen up before breakfast, she was stopped by Vil. The Pomefiore Dorm Head all but demanded her attention for an hour  in the afternoon, her lunch period specifically, to fetch him some arctic sea water from Azul.

Vil was supposedly unable to pick up the water himself as he had an impromptu photoshoot and Azul would only meet during lunchtime.

Despite the tone he used, M/C could sense that Vil was more antsy about missing his photoshoot -made more evident by the slight twitch at the mention of potentially missing the event. She agreed with a bright smile; choosing to ignore Vil’s comment about grass sticking to her and her ‘odor’ when she turned to leave.

Finally, she made it to Ramshackle and  rid herself of the stray remnants of debris before she freshened up. Grim, who finally awoke, all but rushed her from the home before she could rest – determined to beat Ace and Deuce to breakfast.

But as luck would have it, M/C could not make it to the Dining Hall before she was stopped by a rather, frazzled Ruggie, who all but shoved a bag of food onto her. He left rushed orders to take it to Leona as he was asked to help restock the lounge before classes. He ran off before she could refuse.

Grim happily skipped to the dining room, telling her not to waste time since he wasn’t going to save her any of the food. However, before she could rush off – Grim yelled back at her to pick up some tuna for him at Sam’s since she was going out of the main building anyway.

She only nodded, ignoring the hollowed feeling in her stomach and the way it rumbled in protest.

M/C remembers being stopped before she could reach Leona, the botanical garden just in sight. That view had been blocked by the ever-looming, Leech Twins. Floyd grinned down at her and plucked the sandwich from her hands.

“Ah! Koechi-chan is so sweet!~ She brought food for us, Jade” Floyd cheered, ignoring her protests and pleas for him to give her the food back.

“Indeed she did, Floyd.” Jade chuckled, doing nothing to stop his twin, who began to eat the food in front of M/C. “And by the way, Prefect. Vil told us that you would be the one picking up his items later today.”

“Y-yes that’s right. At lunch time.” She clarified, her voice softer as she deflated. In retrospect, she still didn’t know what she could have said to Floyd to make him stop. So many girls on Magicam were adamant about how they maintain dominance over their own friends to avoid being stepped on but they always sounded cruel; Giving instructions to ‘clapback’, to insult them,  to physically hurt them or poke at their insecurities to make them listen. She didn’t want to snap at the twins, not only would it not do her any good but angering them isn’t what she wanted.

“Azul needs to push that time to this evening, at dinner. Vil suddenly requested twice the amount and thus more payment is required.” M/C remembered the chill that ran down her spine as the Twins seemed to loom over her even more.

“P-Payment? But I don’t-“

“Rook is handling the payment but,in the even he doesn’t, please he prepared to pay any outstanding fees.”

The Twins ignored her pleas for clarification, with Floyd only turning around to demand that she be present for his basketball practice later today.

M/C recounted how, after that, her day became a blur with random intervals of clarity when another request or demand was made of her.

Ace and Deuce asking her to handle their chores in Heartslabyul of feeding the Hedgehogs and Flamingos while they went to mandatory study hall with Professor Trein.

Trey caught her and asked for her to pick up some cream from Sam’s shop for him. She also picked up the tuna that Grim had asked for and the only thing she could afford to eat to replace the breakfast that she missed – a discounted egg salad sandwich.

A sandwich she could only eat half of, as the other half was given to Silver, who had missed breakfast looking for Malleus. He had not asked anything of her, she remembered, but the way he looked at her was odd to say the least. He was adament on her sitting down and finishing her half of a sandwich before leaving  but the appearance of Ortho, who asked for her to run an errand for Idia, pulled her away.

Her classes came and went, leaving her feeling isolated as usual. Professor Crewel, never one to shy away from a ‘training’ opportunity, chided her for using an incorrect about of Phoeniz wings in her potion. He only became agitated when she proceeded to answer his questions about the potion, a simple draught, completely wrong. Grim was of no help as even he didn’t know the answers, nor did Ace or Deuce by what they had said but Ace and Grim took great joy in laughing at her misery.

Normally, it wouldn’t have affect her but today, it hurt.

But she smiled anyway.

Lunch time came and, again, she was stopped before she entered the dining hall. Sebek  demanded her help in finding Malleus, who was not present at lunch. Again, Grim deserted her as Sebek grabbed her and dragged her along beside him and Silver to find Malleus.

Again, Silver regarded her in an odd way but he said nothing out of the ordinary towards her.

They never did find Malleus and Sebek took too yelling at her for being unable to be of any use in finding him.

“..Sorry, Sebek. I’ll try harder next time.” Was all she could say, while Silver chided him on being too harsh.

As they made it back to the main building, it was time for classes; She had missed lunch as well.

 ‘Perhaps that’s why I was so dizzy.’ She thought to herself, managing to prop herself onto her elbows. The floor beneath her moved and rippled, similar to the waves in the great oceans back in her homeworld. ‘Correction, why I AM so dizzy…’

Her mind again wandered back to her day after lunch time; Where her day only worsened.

Without any proper food in her, there was no way that she could stay awake with Professor Trein’s class. Lucius quickly spotted her and alerted Trein, before Deuce could fully wake her up.

“Do you believe yourself too smart to pay attention within my class, Miss M/C.” He sneered, a glare firmly on his face as he gazed down at her.

“N-No, sir. I’m sorry, Professor! It wasn’t-“

“Silence.” His voice was firm as harsh, caushing her to flinch and shrink in her seat. “There will be no talking back to me of any kind. I had high expectations of you, Miss M/C and yet you have a complete lack of manners. As punishment, you will write me a paper explaining the important of Magical History, no less than 10 pages. If it is not on my desk first thing in the morning, then expect a harsher punishment. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes, sir.” She mumbled, her head bowed in submission. M/C could remined the feeling of the heat behind her eyes; How hard it was to hold back tears in that moment.

She hadn’t expected kindness from Professor Trein but it seemed no one was recognizing that she was doing the absolute best that she could do with the circumstances that she was in.

She was blunt and sarcastic at times, yes, but she can’t think of anyone who can hold their tongue constantly. Yet when she seemed to speak, unless it was humorous in nature or her agreeing with those around her- she went unheard. But if she pressed and asked for help, who would drop their things to come to her aid?

Those thoughts plagued her for the rest of the day;

Even as Floyd threatened and scolded her for missing basketball practice, where she was supposed to stock the ice water and the cool towels for him,  even though Epel asked her to pick up some old weights from Ruggie.

Even when Ruggie scolded her for not delivering Leona’s sandwich, calling her a thief for eating the sandwich when she reassured him that she didn’t and that Floyd had taken it.

Even when Ace and Deuce whined and complained about letting them down for not feeding the animals properly, when she couldn’t do it properly as they never explained all of the rules to her.

Even when Azul asked, demanded, that she find a specific book for him within the dark recesses of the library before closing as Vil’s additional fee– the thoughts never left her.

In truth, she was merely an anomaly in this world; An irregularity that didn’t belong, didn’t have a place within this magic, twisted world that she found herself in. She was without even the most basic magic to help her through her day to day life as the other had. M/C didn’t know even the most basic of terms within classes that would help her – shown by her struggling grades and performance.

She wouldn’t last outside of NRC, even Crowley had alluded to that. She had no birth certificate, no I.D. on her person, and no family of which to speak of.

Who would risk their own education and future to help someone who wouldn’t be able to do anything on their own anyway?

Even Grim, the other half to her ‘whole student’ was beginning to separate from her as his magic was matured and refined.

But that was why she smiled, was it? She smiled because she liked being needed, feeling as if she had a place in a world where she had none. Even if it ended with her being overworked, sleep-deprived and feeling so hollow – she was needed. A little suffering was nothing.

If her friends would excel in the world around her, wouldn’t that be worth it all? They shouldn’t have to suffer and fail in their classes just because a useless anomaly couldn’t handle the most basic of things.

‘It’s fine.’ She thought to herself, finally pushing herself to her knees. She winced, her movements letting her know just how bad her fall had truly been; Her chest hurt and ached with every beat of her heart, her right leg, the one which hit the ground first, was pulsing and red hot and all over – it felt as if fire ants were stinging her.

“It’s..fine.” She mumbled to herself, reaching with shaking hands to begin the task of stacking the books that she knocked over.

“No, it is not.” Came a hardened voice from behind her.

M/C tensed, her eyes widening as she registered the voice as Professor Trein. As she straightened her back quickly, aiming to turn to look at her professor, the room began to spin once more. Sound all around her became muffled as it felt as though her entire was was submerged underwater.

 “ -s M/C. Are your manners that abhorrent that you cannot even turn to face when when I speak to y-.” Professor Trien fumed but his voice faded away despite how hard she attempted to focus on it.

“P-Professor…” She whimpered, curling into herself to try to stop the sensations around her; But they never ceased, even as she felt something wet run down her face - a pain beginning to bloom upon her head as she focused on the wet feeling.

And it all went dark.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Camlann, except no one is being held back by stupid destinies;

Merlin manages to keep Morgana and Mordred on the side of the light, which has a few rather influential knock-on effects.

Morgause leads her army onto the barren fields of Camlann, her hair and eyes wild, but her sword and focus sharp. Opposite stands her traitor sister’s half brother, the Boy-King of Camelot, surrounded by his precious knights. Today, they would all die, she would make certain of that.

Arthur struggles to keep his hands from trembling, he’s well aware that this battle will likely be his, and subsequently Camelot’s, downfall, but his nerves are settled slightly by Merlin’s comforting presence at his side. Which he feels immensely guilty at. 

He’d done his best to urge Merlin to run, to take Gwen and Gaius and maybe even Morgana, to go to Ealdor to pick up his mother and run even further, just in case. Merlin had refused of course; Gwen and Morgana had squawked at Arthur’s stupid chivalry and planted their feet firmly in the throne room, a symbolic last line of defence, and Gaius rolled his eyes and reaffirmed that he would be in the infirmary tent, as planned. 

He’d given his men his speech and they all seemed content to die for the cause, for one last desperate attempt to keep their home safe, but that didn’t stop the freezing claw of guilt from shredding Arthur’s lungs every time he took a breath. They were just waiting now. For someone to make the first move, for Morgause to get a little closer, for someone to send a messenger. 

Arthur’s broken from his stare when a warm, soft, steady hand takes his gently. His head whips to the side to see Merlin, stood without armour (oh, how The King despaired) staring at him with a slight frown. A frown, Arthur thinks, that should be much deeper, and much more afraid. He’s grateful it isn’t. He’s not sure he could cope with seeing Merlin scared:

“Arthur, if... if I knew a way to win this, once and for all, with not a drop of Camelot blood spilt... would you let me?”

It takes Arthur a few moments to process what Merlin had said, on account of his brain focusing on how grateful he is to hear his voice and feel the warmth of his hand instead of actually listening to him speak, but when he does, he copies his servant’s frown, though his is slightly more confused. He doesn’t let go of Merlin’s hand as he responds, instead tightening his grip:

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

Merlin gulps and looks away briefly, a look of guilt if Arthur ever saw one, but he finds he doesn’t really care. They’re all about to die, he’d forgive Merlin anything:

“If I could win this battle, and the war, right here, right now. Would you let me?-”

At Arthur’s continued perplexed look, Merlin rolls his eyes and huffs, smirking slightly as he adds on:

“-Just humour me.”

Arthur gulps, glancing towards the slowly advancing army before once again squeezing Merlin’s hand and looking back at him:

“It would... depend on the consequences, I suppose. Would you get hurt?”

Merlin shakes his head, then stops, and tilts it sideways as though he’s considering something he’d really rather not think about. He can’t meet Arthur’s gaze as he responds:

“I... might need a few hours to rest, afterwards, but any... long term consequences would depend on your reaction.”

Arthur recoils slightly at that, frown deepening as he shakes his head, completely oblivious to the keen listening ears of his six most loyal knights, and another, hidden towards the back of the group. If he’d turned to see them, Arthur would’ve noticed the blank looks of steely determination on Lancelot and Mordred’s faces:

“Well we would never have to worry about that. I... I could never see you hurt, Merlin.”

The King’s voice cracks as he mentions Merlin getting hurt, and the servant’s gaze softens, knowing that Arthur was thinking of their inevitable demise, creeping closer and closer. He squeezes his hand, giving him a soft smile as his other hand lifts up to rest on his shoulder; his question comes out soft and pleading:

“Do you trust me?”

Arthur has to use all of his self control not to yell his answer across Camlann:

“More than anyone.”

Merlin smiles sadly and steps back, dropping both of his still-steady hands to his sides; Arthur feels the gap between them more heavily than he feels the armour on his back. Merlin goes to turn away without another word, but before he can take even one step, a figure is pushing through to the front, gripping his wrist and pulling him back:

“I’m coming too.”

Arthur’s eyes go comically large as he hears Morgana’s voice come from under the hood. He steps forward to rip it down, and she only spares him an annoyed glance before she’s back to staring purposefully at Merlin. A gasp goes up around the group from all bar two, and Mordred dismounts his horse, walking forward to be in line with Morgana. The three of them entirely ignore Arthur’s outraged words:

“Morgana, what the hell are you doing here? You need to be safe at the castle, you’re meant to take the crown what the hell are you doing here?!”

Merlin meets Morgana’s determined glare with a resigned one of his own:

“No, this is my-”

Mordred interrupts him, his voice strong in a way that Arthur had never heard from the youngest knight before:

“No. No, it’s not. You’re not just fighting for Camelot, Merlin, you’re fighting or us, for our people.”

Merlin looks like he wants to argue, but Morgana crosses her arms and holds her head high as she speaks:

“You’re making a stand and you have no right to stop us from doing the same. This is bigger than you, bigger than all three of us, this is our fight just as much as it is yours.”

Merlin can only hold their stare for so long before he sighs and looks to the floor, entirely oblivious to the knights panicking (bar Lancelot, of course). He looks up with a small, relaxed smile on his face, and if Arthur weren’t so preoccupied with the fact that Morgana was definitely not supposed to be here, he would’ve found Merlin’s almost-nonchalance calming. The servant holds both his hands out:

“Together?”

Mordred grins widely, taking one of Merlin’s wrists as he responds confidently:

“For Camelot.”

Morgana does the same, a sudden wind whipping her hair behind her wildly:

“For our people.”

Without another moment’s of hesitation, Merlin turns and marches towards Morgause and her army. His steps are purposeful and strong, and Arthur can’t bring himself to stop him, no matter how desperately his brain is screaming at him. Morgana turns to him with a not-quite-cruel smirk:

“This has been a long time coming, brother. Enjoy the show.”

Arthur can only blink in surprise as she turns and walks towards Merlin. Mordred looks to him next, though the young knight’s smile is a lot softer, a lot more pitying:

“You should consider yourself lucky, Arthur,-”

Arthur barely registers the use of his first name:

“-my Lord gave up his throne in favour of serving you, buried his crown in favour of polishing yours.”

Arthur shakes his head slightly, his voice quiet and confused and strained as he asks:

“Your Lord?”

Mordred looks to Merlin, still marching across the seemingly never-ending field, with an awed smile; his voice is quiet and holds notes of what almost sound like worship:

“He’s more than you know.”

Before Arthur can respond, Merlin and Morgana stop, turning to look at Mordred expectantly. Merlin stares blankly, his brows slightly furrowed, but Morgana sports a wild grin as she yells back:

“I though you wanted to join in on the fun, Mordred?”

The young knight grins in response, turning to Arthur and giving him one last short bow as he cheerfully says, not a trace of worry in his voice:

“Lady Morgana is right My Lord, enjoy the show.”

He turns away quickly, jogging to catch up with the other two before anyone can say anything. Gwaine is the first to react, jumping off his horse and starting forward, to catch up with them, to pull them back, to ask them what the fuck was going on, but Lance quickly lands behind him, grabbing his shoulder:

“Wait, don’t. You trust them right?-”

He casts his gaze around the others, all looking slightly confused but mostly panicked as they dismount their horses. Mordred, Merlin, and Morgana make their journey to the centre of the field, but Lancelot’s eyes focuses on Arthur:

“-You said you trusted him, so just... this is what he does, Arthur. Please, just trust him, everything’s going to be ok.”

Arthur is desperate to question his knight, to demand that he explain what’s going on and give up anything, everything he knows, but before he can say anything, Elyan gasps and points somewhere beyond their friends. The whole army seems to resume their earlier jitters as Morgause differentiates herself from her soldiers.

~

The three magic users spread out slightly as they come to a stop, Mordred on the left, Morgana on the right, and Merlin, of course, in the middle.

A storm seems to be fast approaching and the loud wind makes hearing each other difficult, but they don’t need words to speak, and Mordred’s question echoes in Merlin’s head as all of their gazes focus on Morgause stepping forward:

“Are the other two coming?”

The Warlock nods, tapping his finger to his temple briefly as he replies:

“I called for them hours ago, they’re almost-”

~

Arthur is distracted from all that’s in front of him when a desperate and terrified voice screeches out from the back of his army:

“DRAGONS!!”

He, and all the other knights, whip their heads around in panic, only to see exactly what had been yelled about. The Dragon that Arthur had supposedly killed years ago is flying towards them like a hurricane, golden scales shining bright even in the shadows of the approaching storm. Next to him flies a much smaller dragon, pure white and clearly young, unstable in the air but still graceful, still terrifying.

Arthur’s heart sinks even impossibly further as they both fly straight over them, aiming for the other side of the field. If Morgause had two Dragons at her beck and call somehow, there was no hope, no matter what ridiculous plan Merlin had. Arthur felt the tears fill his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. If this was to end in fire, then he’d sprint to Merlin, just so he could see him, hold his hands, beg him for a smile, one last time.

Lancelot holds him back with a hand on his shoulder and a soft smile:

“I know this doesn’t make sense, but just... trust him.”

He turns back to Merlin just to see the great beasts land in front of them, almost acting as a barrier between the three of them and the opposing army.

~

“-Took you long enough.”

Kilgharrah does his best imitation of rolled eyes before dipping his head in a bow:

“Where would you like us, young Warlock?”

Merlin grins, allowing Aithusa to push her head into his hands as he answers:

“I want you somewhere off to the side looking vaguely threatening. Only intervene if you have to, I don’t want the Camelot knights getting twitchy and skewering you, you’re an old man after all, I’m not sure you could take it.-”

Morgana laughs aloud and Mordred snorts behind his hand, but Kilgharrah just rolls his eyes again, giving another bow that this time somehow seems sarcastic before clomping off to the side, prowling up and down the edge of the field and huffing the occasional puffs of smoke in the opposition’s direction. Merlin looks down to Aithusa next, scratching her chin and using a much softer voice:

“Go watch over Arthur, keep him safe but don’t let him or any of the others hurt you, I’m sure Lance will explain. Try to stay out of the fighting and don’t let Morgause get anywhere near Arthur or the knights, you understand?”

The creature purrs and nods, stepping around her master and beginning an impossibly fast sprint towards Arthur.

~

Arthur stares with wide eyes at the gathering in the middle of the field, letting out a deep breath when the Great Dragon bows down to Merlin’s confident stance. The smaller creature bounds to him as he... exchanges words with the beasts, and all Arthur can do is stare as his brain argues over which emotion should be at the forefront. Fear? Confusion? Betrayal? Some kind of guilt? Pride, maybe?

Lancelot definitely looks proud, worried, but proud, and Arthur spares him a questioning glance; before he can say anything, Leon lets out a quiet yelp, pointing across the field and drawing his sword on instinct. Arthur whips his head around to see the white Dragon speeding towards them, eyes bright, teeth bared, and sharp claws ripping up the ground with every step.

He draws his own sword, panic clawing at his gut, but before he can step forward in some pointless attempt to protect his men, Lancelot pulls him back again, stepping in between Arthur and the approaching Dragon with a placating hand held out to each of them; his voice comes out quickly and desperate:

“No, no, she’s on our side, don’t hurt her. Merlin sent her here to protect us, don’t hurt her.”

Arthur stares between them with a mix of blood-curdling fear and endless confusion. But he trusts Merlin, and he trusts Lancelot, so much to Leon’s displeasure he lowers his sword, though he doesn’t sheath it, not yet.

The Dragon finally reaches them, coming to a skidding stop a few feet away. Arthur’s fear is overpowered by confusion, and an odd fondness in the back of his mind, when the creature almost topples over in it’s haste. She purrs loudly, and even Leon appears to relax slightly, even more so when she dips her head in what appears to be a bow to Arthur, before turning her attention to Lancelot and pushing her face into his hands.

The other knights all start forward on instinct, but when Lance lets out a low chuckle and begins... scratching the creature’s chin?? They step back again, watching as the Dragon begins purring even louder, almost bowling Lancelot over as it rubs it’s scaled body across his legs. It’s... acting like a cat...

Gwaine coughs very deliberately and Lancelot looks up with a blush, biting his lip before saying, his words awkward and stilted:

“Uh... guys, this is Aithusa, she’s... a Dragon. She can’t speak yet, but-”

Percival makes a confused noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head with wide eyes as he asks incredulously:

“Dragons are meant to be able to speak??”

Lancelot grimaces, but nods, but before he can say anything, Morgause’s crazed voice echoes over the field, and their attention is drawn back to the face off between Merlin, Morgana, Mordred, and the enemy.

~

“You can not beat me, not even with your precious pets!!”

The gang can hear Kilgharrah’s low growl at the insult and the sound vibrates across the ground and up into their very bones, even with the distance between them. Aithusa tenses in response, eyes narrowed and teeth bared as she detects the anger and insult swarming in her Kin, but Merlin holds a hand out to the Great Dragon, and both creatures relax as he monotonously responds:

“I’m giving you one chance, Morgause, do not send your followers to a pointless death.”

His tone is even and confident, his back straight, his head held high, and Arthur wonders how he’d never noticed Merlin’s obvious power before. Despite speaking normally, his voice is heard by everyone, even over the howling wind.

The knights can see Morgause’s hands shaking in her rage, her eyes wide and bright golden as she screeches her response, her anger showing through clearly:

“I am no coward!! You are nothing but a servant, a child soldier, and a pampered princess! What hope do you have against me?! I am a High Priestess, you are nothing!!!”

Merlin lowers his head, nodding slightly in resigned sadness. His muttered words, once again, somehow seem to echo across the field, and Arthur recoils at the grief in his tone:

“So be it.”

He slowly lifts his arm, holding it at a forty-five degree angle from the ground, his fingers splayed wide, and Elyan gasps, pointing wordlessly to the lightening dancing between his fingertips. Gwaine lets out a boisterous laugh, grinning as he realises with sudden clarity that Merlin is about to kick ass in a major way.

Arthur just gapes, struggling to process what was happening even as Gwaine whoops and Lancelot smiles proudly. The other knights are also staring, varying levels of confusion, awe, and happiness on their faces. 

From where they’re standing, they can see Mordred and Morgana get into a fighting stance, though neither of them draw the swords they have hanging from their hips. Morgause lets out an ear piercing screech, this one wordless, giving the distinct impression that her mind had snapped under the weight of her fury. Her army begins their march forwards as she hurls a fireball the size of a horse straight for Merlin, but he simply twists his wrist sharply forwards. A bolt of lightening rips down from the sky, intercepting the fireball and forcing it to the ground where it explodes in a miniature storm of silver sparks and golden flames.

Morgause screams again, her and her army speeding up in their approach as Merlin gives some sort of unseen command. All of a sudden, Mordred gives a small leap forward, planting his feet firmly as he thrusts his hands towards the ground before ripping them up again; with the movement, the ground at his feet explodes, vines and rocks and roots bursting from the field in a sharp line heading straight for the army. Morgana, at the same time, swirls her arms gracefully around her head, a few sparks of fire lighting up in the darkness as if from the friction between her hands and the air. She brings her arms down again, completing the elegant flow, stepping forward as she blows harshly into her cupped hands. A great, hot fire bursts forth, huge and angry and writhing as it shoots towards the enemy.

A few feeble counter attacks are thrown from Morgause and the sorcerers she has in her ranks, but ultimately, the army can only look on in horror at their approaching deaths. After a few moments of Merlin staring proudly at Mordred and Morgana’s handy work as it rips apart the first few hundred soldiers, he takes his own step forward, raising his arm to the sky. Lightening dances between just his fingertips at first, then down his arm, then all over his body; he connects to the flashes in the sky, and he glows brighter and brighter until he thrusts both arms forward. A tornado of flashing, crackling light shoots out from his hands, striking down thousands of soldiers. Shards of lightening jump from enemy to enemy, leaving none untouched by magic, each being struck down by Mordred’s earth, Morgana’s fire, or Merlin’s sky.

The Camelot army can only stare on in shock and horror as the enemy is wiped out in minutes, screams of those being buried alive, burned as if on pyres, or fried from the inside out reverberating across the field. Arthur’s mouth hangs open, his eyes wide and frozen on Merlin as he conducts lightening as if it were what he was born to do. Something deep in Arthur’s soul tells him that this is what he was born to do.

Aithusa’s protection isn’t required; none of the enemy soldiers get within ten metres of Merlin and his pupils, let alone Arthur and the other knights, but she patrols the front edge of Camelot’s army regardless, nudging back those that step too far forward (everyone was too focused on The King’s manservant, knight, and half sister being... well... Godlike, to care about the fact that a Dragon was using her snout to gently push people around), always with one eye on Arthur, just like her master had asked.

Within minutes, the field goes almost silent; the only sounds to be heard are the gentle crackling of still-smouldering bodies, and the deep breaths of Morgause, Mordred, Morgana, and Arthur. Merlin seems entirely unbothered, his stance still strong and powerful where Mordred and Morgana sag slightly from the exertion.

Morgause falls to her knees, tears on her cheeks as she finally realises the power that she’s up against; Merlin tilts his head slightly before clicking his fingers. The four of them disappear in clouds of deep black smoke and Arthur struggles to stop himself from yelping and falling back when they reappear in front of him.

Morgause is still kneeling, Merlin in front of her with a blank expression on his face. Morgana stands to the side, her face an odd mix of sorrowfully defeated—Morgause was her sister after all—and vindictively victorious. Mordred stands at her shoulder, looking a lot more tired but still managing to stay upright as he gazes upon the scene with well put together indifference. Aithusa bounds over to be stood at her master’s side, and even Kilgharrah joins them, standing behind Aithusa a way’s off.

Morgause finally speaks through her deep breathing, staring up at Merlin in desperation:

“Who are you?”

Merlin just tilts his head and frowns slightly, crouching down to place a soft hand on her shoulder:

“Who do you think?”

Morgause sags even further, her tears streaming down her face as she almost whispers, her voice cracking:

“Emrys.”

Merlin nods slowly, looking to Arthur for the first time since the whole ordeal started. Arthur is taken aback at the shining gold of his eyes, but holds his gaze, gulping and waiting for his servant (?) to make the first move:

“Your orders, My Lord?”

Arthur takes a deep breath, looking first down at Morgause, who is staring at the floor blankly, then to Mordred and Morgana, who raise eyebrows at him, then Lancelot, who shrugs, and finally the other knights, who stare at him with wide eyes, waiting for his answer just as Merlin is. His hands clench at his side, but he looks back to the dark-haired man, his face determined and his voice strong:

“Your suggestion?”

Lancelot nods approvingly at Arthur’s obvious show of trust; the question is more than just a question, it’s a display that The King is treating Merlin like an advisor, asking for his counsel and trusting his allegiance in front of a crowd. Merlin smiles slightly, tightening his grip on Morgause’s shoulder, not that she notices:

“I’m not overly fond of execution, but we don’t have dungeons strong enough to hold her long term, and too many have suffered at her hand.”

Arthur nods, though he sheathes his sword. He takes a deep breath before his next instruction, knowing that this is... delicate, and important; a turning point in his Kingdom’s history:

“Make it merciful.”

Merlin holds in his proud smile and Morgause only has time to gasp quietly as his hand moves from her shoulder to her forehead. Her eyes roll back and she collapses to the floor, dead before she even hits the ground. 

The Warlock spares the dead witch a quick, pitying glance, and the grief in his eyes, even after all she had done, is endearing, reminding everyone around them of the compassion Merlin is capable of. He stands quickly, but is careful not to make any of his moves too sudden, stepping away from the body and towards Arthur. His stance is strong once again, allowing some before unseen authority, confidence, power to shine through; Mordred and Morgana take their places either side of them, and even Aithusa sits up, tall and proud, as Kilgharrah edges forward slightly.

This is Merlin, showing off his army, presenting it to his King, offering it up for judgment. An army consisting of himself, his two apprentices, and two Dragons; not large, but likely the most powerful the land has ever known, and ever will know.

Arthur gulps, but meets Merlin’s golden gaze. The atmosphere is thick and charged and The King couldn’t pinpoint whether it was from the residual lightening still jumping between Merlin’s fingers, or the sheer power that was just displayed, seemingly effortlessly. He glances over the Warlock’s shoulder at the carnage behind him and can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath. Merlin tilts his head, glancing at the massacre for just a moment before looking back with an almost repentant smile:

“I apologise for the theatrics,-”

He’s interrupted by Morgana’s whispered murmur of “I don’t, that was brilliant.” but ignores her:

“-but I can... fix that. If you like?”

Arthur frowns slightly, confused and so far out of his comfort zone that he doesn’t even want to hazard a guess at what Merlin might be implying. He feels a mould grow spontaneously in his gut, a horror with spores that spread throughout his bloodstream as he realises that... he doesn’t really know anything about magic, about how it works, about how Merlin is offering to use it. It had yet to occur to him to be afraid of Merlin, but the sudden realisation that he’d been persecuting his servant’s people with no real understanding of his own former hatred was... jarring.

The Warlock sees Arthur’s hesitation, widening his reassuring smile slightly as he repeats an earlier question, from a time that felt as though it had come years before, but was really only minutes. The discrepancy in timelines between Arthur’s head and the real world does not alter the King’s answer

“Do you trust me?”

“More than anyone.”

Merlin closes his eyes, holding his hands out to the side slightly as he lets out a deep breath. The storm, which Arthur and the knights had become entirely oblivious of despite it’s ruinous thunder and blinding flashes of lightening, quickly dissipates; blue sky and bright sun peek through the fading clouds. A gold shimmer ripples out across the ground from Merlin’s feet, spreading backwards like a wave over sand, turning pebbles and leaving the beach clean and fresh in it’s wake. The ground clears, bodies sinking into nothingness and fires being smothered by magic, even Morgause disappears into the dirt. 

Arthur absentmindedly thinks that that could be seen as honorary or disgracing; he supposes it depends on what type of person you were before the end of your life. Merlin would see being entombed within the Earth itself as a blessing, he somehow thinks that Morgause, with her God complex and inflated feelings of infallibility, would find it... demeaning.

Merlin sags his head slightly, and when Arthur’s brain comes back into focus, mostly prompted by the gasping and widespread whispers of the uneasy army behind him, he sees that the barren fields of Camlann, soaked with blood and scorched by lightening, no longer exist. In their place was a vast meadow, bright with the colours of spring and summer; untameable wildflowers stood tall and crimson butterflies were the only reminders of the bloodshed that had watered this paradise before them.

Arthur feels the smile on his face before he had even made the conscious decision to smile, but he decides that today, of all days, he doesn’t mind accidentally wearing his heart on his sleeve. Trust Merlin to do something as unspeakable as rip an army to shreds with lightening, and then apologise for his dramatics by creating heaven on earth.

The King sighs before shaking his head slightly, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh. He can feel the sun on his skin, and his smile grows with the knowledge that the heat warming his cheeks was entirely unnatural for this time of year; Merlin really was pulling out all of the stops.

“You’re a gift to this world, Merlin.”

His voice comes out softly, as if he were afraid of ruining the peace, though he only adds to it; The King finally turns to his Warlock again and almost stumbles back at the immeasurable devotion shining from his now-blue-again eyes. His whispered response carries on the wind as if he were a part of it, and Arthur wonders just how much of this world Merlin has touched, just how much of this universe Merlin has created, extended himself to. Did the wind exist before Merlin? Did the sun? Did butterflies, or lightening, or the colour gold have any space in this universe before Merlin willed it? Gaius’ thick books say they have an answer, but Arthur thinks they might be lying:

“A gift to you, Arthur, only to you.”

~

THE END!

I’ve been looking forward to writing this one for a while, so I hope y’all liked it!! I LOVE writing BAMF!Merlin, (and BAMF!Mordred/Morgana as well so) :D

Same as always, you wanna extend it/write it properly/remix it, then that’s fine, but drop me message before hand and credit/tag me!! :)