#brain being so far removed from someone he held so dear; someone he promised to save (and did technically) is just such a profound thought

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

“Mirth - An acrylic painting by one of Master Ephemer’s most prolific apprentices, an artist and Keyblade wielder of great calibre. It is said to have been made not long after his eldest child celebrated her…are you alright, Master Brain?”

“Yeah. I’m just…I’m glad he was happy.”

based on this art from Veil by Kotteri

[neutron-stars-collision]

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 19 - You'll be the promise, I'll be the scream

Masterlist; Chapter 18 Summary: The aftermath of Riddler's words. You're forced to face the fears and talk to Bruce. Neither of those is an easy feat... Warnings: 18+; tones of angst, R's internal crisis and... them smuts ✨ Author's Notes: Woo, she made it! Incredible! Outstanding achievement. Seriously, though, I know it's been a while. To compensate - this one is long. Like 10.7k long. And it's also explicit bc them idiots needed tension release of the traditional kind :))))) It's probably only one chapter and epilogue left now so... getting emotional. A little bit. But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now... buckle up, 'kay? You're gonna needed. (I know they're idiots). Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Tag list: Tag list: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim, @ttae-yong, @freyadruid, @siriuslydestiny, @ms-dont-care, @raphaelaisabella, @itsmytimetoodream, @brightjimini, @castellandiangelo, @grunge-n-roses5 (let me know if you wanted to be removed/added).

(gif credit: @makoto-shinkai)

Returning to the Wayne Tower from Arkham felt like a fevered dream. You could barely remember how you got there from the street by your house where you had directed Gordon to drop you off. Only that no matter the distance from the prison, your heart did not get any lighter.

Riddler’s words still rang out loud and clear in your head, slowly driving you crazy. The tower was blessedly quiet and empty when you reached the study and collapsed into the armchair. One look at the phone screen and a quick read of the only text that awaited you confirmed the expected – Bruce was already out and would be back later. Probably much later. Which was good. The last thing you wanted was to be confronted by someone you could not lie to. All hopes shattered when Dory walked into the room not a quarter of an hour later.

It was easy to pretend then, quickly falling back into the role you knew well. You smiled when appropriate, forced down a meal that could not be contested and produced a lie that worked in your favour. Dory had no clue. It did not matter that your heart was breaking beneath the performance. You were stellar, as always.

It was a relief to have her retire to her room not long after you finished eating. You were finally alone. It was a no-brainer to turn down all the unnecessary lights and carry your stuff to your bedroom, closing the door behind your back. You got as far as sitting down at the foot of the bed when your brain caught up. The memories came rushing in, Riddler’s voice as clear as in that cell, taunting you just like he did. What if he was right? What if your father was a monster, and you were following in his footsteps? There were no answers. Frantic brain kept running through all the pieces you had ever written, quickly finding those Nashton could have meant. The times when you were relentless, pushed too far. The times when you should have stopped. The solution was simple – he was right.

The steady stream of tears rushed down your cheeks, smudging the mascara you had recklessly put on in the morning as you lied down on the covers and curled up. The weight on your chest was not going anywhere, making it hard to breathe. Near impossible to leave the spiral once you got absorbed in it. An endless onslaught of self-hatred poured out along with the quiet sobs that wrecked your frame. Each thought felt like your heart being ripped out, piece by piece. The smithereens bled onto the duvet as your mind circled back, time and time again, to that one idea.

The worst one of them all. The fear that you would hurt Bruce. That it was all you were capable of doing, destroying what you held dear. Perhaps it had already happened; the guillotine was let loose. About to slash your neck, once and for all. Maybe it would’ve been for the best.

After a while, the tears had dried out, the parched throat begging for a glass of water. But you did not want to move. Did not seem to have the strength to do so. Slowly, you raised your head enough to see the inky skies outside, for once free from rain clouds. The moon peered shyly into the room, painting the floor silver. The thoughts were still there. The pain had not left.

You were almost close to dozing off from exhaustion when faint creaks of the floorboards in the corridor outside made you open your eyes. Someone stopped right by your door, hesitating. Somehow, you knew who it was before they decided and pressed the handle. For a split second, you mourned that you had left the door unlocked. Then Bruce stepped inside, and all you could do was close your eyes against the sudden pinprick of pain in your chest. The silence was deafening. Almost enough to make you speak and answer the thousands of questions he seemed to have. You never got quite that far.

As if reading your mind, Bruce closed the door behind his back and slowly approached the bed. His body was tense, uncertainty visible in every move. You could only imagine what he saw when he came closer. You did not dare to move, passively staring at his approaching form until Bruce stopped two feet away from the bed and raised his head. Enough so you could see his expression. The haunting blue eyes were now flooded with concern and fear. Before you could dwell on what you saw, Bruce spoke:

“What happened?” his husky tone dripped with worry, making you wince from the sound alone.

But you did not feel like giving in to him just yet.

“You could’ve knocked, you know” aware of the tear tracks tainted with ink from the mascara on your cheeks, you did your best to glower at him.

Judging by the defeated look you got back, it was a futile attempt. Bruce took another step closer, visibly pondering whether he should sit next to your slumped form.

“Come on, don’t give me that. What happened?” his tone softened a notch, enough to make your heart pick up its pace.

And to make you sit up, silently offering space should he want it. Training your mind on the floor, you whispered:

“I met him” you could hear the unspoken question in the heavy silence, forcing you to add, quieter still, “Riddler,”

Bruce gasped as if he had been hit in the stomach.

“What? Why?” the disbelief in his voice made you look up.

Seeing the horror on his face as if he could not believe what he was hearing. It was enough to make shame bloom in the pit of your stomach, yet again making you wish you could disappear. But there was no divine intervention. No opening pit in the ground or a merciful hand to end it for you. As if subconsciously wanting to make the pain worse, you forced yourself to look him in the eye as you spoke:

“Because I wanted to. I was curious, so I asked Gordon to take me to him after the witness statement” as soon as the words were out, you could feel the tears welling up.

Because hearing it said like that spoke volumes about your idiocy. How it all could have been avoided if not for your lack of logic. It was not surprising to hear Bruce groan in response,

“Jesus Christ,” a muttered curse dropped from his lips as he covered his face with his hands for a beat, then raised it to fix you with a glare, “Why did you-”

Somehow you knew what was coming. And that you would not survive it if Bruce scolded you, pointing out all the ways you had fucked up and the reasons why you could never be enough. For him or anybody else. So, you interjected his incoming rant with the wavering voice:

“Please, don’t. I know it was stupid, and it definitely taught me a lesson” it was impossible to hide the pain from your tone, keen on getting the message, “So if you’re going to berate me, I’d rather you left” what was supposed to be a stern warning, never got that far.

Instead, the condition sounded weak, like a thinly veiled plea for mercy. And it was not wrong. To your immense surprise, it worked. Bruce visibly winced as his words seemed to catch up with him.

“God, no. I’m sorry” seeing immediate contrition felt good enough for you to nod your head in agreement to his silent question, allowing Bruce to sit down and finish the thought, “I just… What did he say to you?” he kept his distance yet the softness in his voice felt like a reassuring hand-squeeze.

You glanced at him, hoping to convey the gratitude. But even that was not enough to make you eager to tell the tale.

“Many, many things” a choice for the moment was a tentative opening.

A quick attempt at dodging the question if Bruce allowed you.

“I’ve got time,” he didn’t; leaning back a fraction to appear at ease.

To highlight that he wanted to hear it, that he had nothing else to do but listen to your sob story of naivety and stupid decisions. From the look in his eyes, you could tell you had no other choice. Letting out a sigh as a preamble, you shifted your gaze back onto the floor. You could already feel the familiar burn of tears.

“Um… in a nutshell, my father was a monster directly responsible for what happened to your mother. I’m exactly the same, devoted to the job so much that nothing else matters” you heard Bruce’s sharp breath intake but did not grant yourself the right to look at him, “He asked when am I going to destroy you and finish what my father started” the wobbling voice cracked as new tears streamed down your cheeks again, ever so eager to make an appearance; they forced out the most vulnerable of confessions you could give him then “The worst part is that I think he’s right” there it is, as always.

Without giving you time to dissolve into sobs that choked up your throat, Bruce moved, his careful fingers lifting your chin so he could lock his eyes with yours. There was no escape from his knowing stare as he delicately swept his thumb over your tear-streaked cheeks before dipping lower to trace your cupid’s bow. Unable to hold his tender gaze, you closed your eyes.

“He’s not,” the gentle whisper was filled with conviction.

But it was not enough to convince you. Not quite enough to stop the vicious thoughts.

“But-” your protest got silenced before you could get a word out.

As if knowing what you needed, Bruce leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead before squeezing your hand with his unoccupied palm. Reluctantly you opened your eyes, realising the intended effect. He had your full attention.

“Listen to me. The point of that conversation was to rile you up. To make you believe those things and go insane because of them,” his firm tone captured your mind, as did the heat in his eyes, betraying the anger Bruce felt on your behalf, “He loved every second because this is what he does. He gets under your skin, feeds on guilt and insecurities and amplifies them” tangling his fingers with yours in what felt like second nature, Bruce allowed the passion give way to fondness, strengthening the message “But the main point is that it was all bullshit” on its own accord, your mouth twisted into a weak smile, triggered by something as unusual as hearing him curse “Nothing else” he finished the speech with another hand squeeze as he raised your joined hands to his mouth and kissed your knuckles.

The gesture, along with everything he said, made your head spin. The logical part of your brain knew Bruce was right. But it was a small fraction of an overall emotional consciousness, which would not be settled quite so easily. You hoped that perhaps the longer you stared into his eyes, the more convinced you would become.

Leaning into his palm that still cupped your cheek, you whispered a question:

“How can you be so sure?” one that you were scared to ask but still needed to know.

To understand what it was that Bruce saw, that you were blind to. Why he trusted you when he should not?

“Because I know you,” his confidence did not waver as he offered the response without hesitancy, “I know that you care about everyone around you, that you would do anything for those you hold dear. And that, above all, you’re a good person” Bruce concluded his speech with another kiss on your forehead, a rare sure smile hiding in the corners of his lips.

At once, the vicious voices in your head grew silent, emptying the space of all that was not affection and gratitude. Even if just for a moment. The prickling tears were not going anywhere as you closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of Bruce’s hand clasping yours. For the first time during that long day, you felt the stifling weight lift off your chest.

“Shit, you’re going to make me cry, sweetheart” cracking a weak joke, you risked a glance at his reaction following the nickname.

Bruce grinned, no longer pretending to mask the fondness with an eye roll. Even with the haze of tiredness quickly descending over your head, you greatly appreciated the change. Enough so to creep a little closer still and lean your head on his shoulder, covertly inhaling the familiar scent of laundry detergent, expensive cologne and dampness of the terminus. A strange concoction that already felt like home, although you would never admit it.

“I mean it, though” Bruce gently rested his head on top of yours, cementing the sentiment and leaving another rush of warmth burning in your chest.

It was hard to fill the silence with anything else. Save maybe for the things you couldn’t say. After a beat, you found the safest question and gave it a voice:

“How- Um… How was your day?” the pathetic quiver shook your vocal cords.

Before you could give yourself a moment to marinate in shame while listening to his answer, Bruce carefully extracted himself from your embrace and stood up. Upon your questioning look, he murmured:

“One sec” already moving towards the ensuite, he kept speaking, “Selina asked to meet up with me, so I went to see her… She’s left the city, actually” you stared as Bruce entered the room a few seconds later, clutching a bottle of micellar water and cotton pads.

It took another three seconds for his words to sink in and for you to understand them. What it meant and how it made you feel. Strange. Conflicted. Fucking confused, among others. The attempts at words got stuck in your throat when Bruce sat next to you on the duvet and wordlessly prepared the make-up remover, waiting for you to tip your chin forward. Your body moved before you told it to, closing the gap yet again. He did not hesitate before leaning in to begin wiping off the mess from your face with a look of pure concentration.

It felt strange to be under his scrutiny, mindful of all the different issues you could catalogue on your face. Of all the ways Bruce could find you lacking. Not enough compared with someone like her.

“Oh… okay,” remembering that it was your turn to speak, you blurted out the only question you desperately needed to be answered, “You didn’t want to go with her?”

There. Your heart lying in his open palm, ready to be crushed. Not for the first time since you had met.

Bruce took his time, meticulously wiping off the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes, his gaze never straying from your face. You did not dare think about what he must have seen there.

“No, of course not” cutting through the uncertainty, Bruce offered a reply that gave no room for interpretation, at once meeting your worried look with a ready explanation, “I spent too much time fighting for Gotham just to leave it on a whim” he swallowed hard as if finally caught by the doubts, clearly debating whether what he wanted to say next should be spoken; then, he made up his mind “Plus, it was never like that between us” the meaningful look was impossible to miss, as was the unspoken implication of what he meant; the combination was enough to fortify the blush on your cheeks  “She’s glad you’re fine after what happened. And that you’re staying too,”

The final comment was another surprise, spiking your heart rate to a faster beat. Because it suggested one thing you did not consider – Bruce talked with Selina about you. That you were important enough to be a conversation topic. Selina took her time to think about what she witnessed.

And that Bruce wasn’t going to leave. You still had time, for better or worse. Using the tidbit of information as your needed courage inspiration, you reached your hand to his, curling your fingers around his wrist. Just to keep him close.

“Are you? Happy I’m staying?” the thin band of skin-to-skin contact offered the push you needed to ask what you wanted.

The second most important matter after Bruce staying in Gotham.

Bruce used the final clean cotton wipe to erase the dried-up coats of foundation from the bridge of your nose and lowered his hands, freeing your face. His blue eyes stayed right where they were, sometimes meeting yours, at other times fixed on your mouth. Enough so to wreak havoc in your head and heart. At last, Bruce’s lips quirked into a small smile, his other hand coming down to cover yours, still encircling his wrist. The light pressure of his touch was enough to ground you, making the wait for his answer seem bearable.

“More than I know how to express” even with the anticipation, his reply took you by surprise, making you gasp as you were suddenly too bashful to look him in the eye; and for a good reason, “The meeting with Selina made me think about some things and…” you glanced up, the breath caught in your throat as you watched Bruce ponder something again; it was impossible to tell where it was leading “Before you, I was never brave enough to want. The feeling was there, the desires and the needs, but I never gave in to them. Slowly, I learnt how to repress it and shove it so far down that I almost thought I’m resistant” oh; your head flew back up fast enough to make your spine crack, head unable to comprehend the meaning without getting overwhelmed, only to find Bruce staring right back; his blue eyes sure and firm in their unwavering belief “Then you happened” oh.

The confession felt important. Crucial in its significance, like nothing else before it. Tangible like the pressure of his hand over yours and the heat of his body across the narrow space. Terrifying like the depths of feelings in your heart and head. You did not know what made him say it. Caught speechless by the admission, you could only whisper:

“Sorry,” shyly biting into your lower lip until Bruce tugged it free.

Your tender skin was burning from his touch. Thousand more apologies for turning his life on its head died on your tongue as you felt the familiar tension rise. Suddenly it was hard to find reasons why you should not close that gap. Why you should not keep touching him, giving whatever he wanted from you. The resolution was waiting in the wings for you to take the plunge whenever you were ready.

“I never said it’s a bad thing” Bruce’s smile only brightened as he brushed away your foolish apology while his fingers drifted downwards to trail over the skin of your neck, “Just that sometimes it’s difficult to stop myself from reaching for what I want” there was an implication in his voice, a pointer towards what he was too scared to say.

Perhaps the heat of his touch sparking the fire in your veins made you decide. Reach for the opening he created and take what he was offering. It was not difficult to breach the gap and take hold of his hand to drag it down, pressing his palm to your chest, right over the heart. Taking pleasure in the hungry look in his eyes, you leaned in close to whisper:

“You don’t have to stop” keeping your gaze locked onto his mouth, you added, “Not with me” then, with the both of you suspended millimetres away from the kiss that you could already feel, you posed the question, “What do you want, Bruce?”

Hoping he would get the message that whatever was about to happen had to be his request. Only then could you let go of the uncertainty and fear ruling your head. The heart was kept hostage. Bruce let out a shuddered breath, fanning your parted lips with a wisp of air. His nose nudged yours as he struggled to look you in the eye before replying:

“You” his free hand wandered down to touch your hip as Bruce leaned against you, slowly pushing you down onto the mattress, “Everything. I-”

Too scared to let him speak, you closed his mouth with a kiss, finally closing the gap. Releasing your heart from the captivity of the mind. Sealing your fate with a careful caress of your lips over his. Taking Bruce’s broken gasp and pulling him further into the embrace so that he had no choice but to surrender. Cover your body with his, enveloping your shaking bones with the warmth you have craved. That kiss was meant to be slow and direct in its meaning. You knew he understood when you broke the contact with a quiet whimper, your eyes roaming over his stunned features. The blown-out pupils and reddened lips drew your attention like magnets and made it so much easier to find the necessary words:

“You can have everything,” swallowing past the unspeakable, you met his gaze with vulnerability, “Please,” now there was nothing to hide.

He had it all, waiting for his move. The troubled blue eyes searched yours for a beat as if looking for uncertainty he expected to follow your admission.

“Are- are you sure?” the hesitant question confirmed your suspicions but was contested by his seemingly unconscious touch.

Fingers running down the slope of your thigh, now hitched over his hip to keep him in place. Adding fuel to the fire and distracting your mind from anything else but Bruce. Even with the fog steadily rising, his question was ridiculous. Without wasting time speaking, you used the empty hand to grab his shirt and pull him down to meet your lips. Again.

Only, this time, you did not idle, instantly opening your mouth and prodding his open with your curious tongue. Swiping against his tongue in a well-practised dance, exploring the inside of his mouth. All the moves were familiar; all elicited a gasp, a tightening hand touching your hip. All increased the temperature till all you wanted to do was make sure Bruce took off his clothes soon. So you could touch him how you wanted to.

Motivated by the thought, you broke the kiss and leaned back far enough to huff out a question:

“Was that good enough for you?” making sure to throw a cheeky smile, you admired the blush blooming upon his cheeks.

The kiss did what you needed it to. Bruce smiled back, the last tint of uncertainty vanishing from his face as you cupped his cheek. Fingertips tracing the sharp cheekbones and the fading bruises. He was beautiful. A fact that still sometimes astonished you after years of hearing about Bruce Wayne and seeing grainy photographs in the paper and online. Along with the idea that one day you would be this close to him. Close enough to touch and tear your heart apart in the process.

Ignoring the melancholy that threatened to steal the moment from your hands, you swept your thumb over Bruce’s bottom lip. Drawing both of you back in. Shaking himself awake, Bruce’s hand ventured up from your hip to trace the hem of your shirt and then dove underneath. Warm fingers skating over your skin, helping the chills settle in and raise the goosebumps. His attentive eyes watched you, noticing every shiver you tried to fight off. Pondering the mystery of what was going to happen next. One thing was clear – this time Bruce had it all figured out. He knew exactly how to get you to the edge of insanity. And then beyond.

Once he leaned in, slowly making his path from the corner of your mouth to your neck with pecks, you knew it was over. With each carefully laid peck, your body trembled. Each ignited a fire in your veins only Bruce could smother. Your hand tightened its hold over his shoulder; legs immediately accommodated to fit his body in the cradle of your thighs. Heart hammering between your ribs, begging to be listened to. To keep him like this forever.

Nosing at your pulse point, Bruce licked the spot, making your hips buck to meet his as if on autopilot. Making you gasp and mutter a curse that never quite got its voice. Only for him to sink his teeth in a shallow bite. Enough for your body to jerk upright, a pathetic breathless moan slipping through the gritted teeth. Enough for you to dig your nails into his arm and bunch up the shirt to find his bare skin. Trace the scars and the outline of muscles. You already felt like you were losing your mind. As if summoned by your hazy thoughts, Bruce concluded his exploration with a final teasing kiss over your collarbone and raised his head to ask:

“Can I?” the enigmatic question was easily explained by his tentative hand tracing the hem of your shirt.

Asking to give him what was already his. You appreciated the thoughtfulness. But there was one condition you had to voice before you gave in.

“Only if you take this off too” tugging at his t-shirt, you whispered out the pitiful wish, “I really want to touch you” a wave of shame threatened to rise, but it never got anywhere.

Not with the way Bruce looked at you after the admission. His lips stretched into a soft smile. Eyes awed and sparkling like rarely before. As if what you said was something he had been aching to hear.

Without another word, Bruce kissed your forehead before getting up on his knees to pull off the shirt in one move. You never saw quite where he threw the clothing. It did not matter that you already saw him like this many times before. Nor that now, after the few harrowing days, his torso was littered with an array of bruises and cuts. Your hand darted out as if controlled with a mind of its own, only just managing to graze the skin of his abdomen. The dark hair trail disappearing into the waistline of his trousers drew your attention like it always did. A simple touch earned you a full-body shiver quickly masked with an outstretched hand, inviting you to join him.

You did not waste a second to get up on your knees and close that awful gap. To meet Bruce’s gaze with bravery you did not feel and take off your shirt. Feeling the drafty air over your naked skin, you moved to cover up, but he stopped you with a firm grip on the forearm. Blue eyes locked stares with yours, ceasing all the chatter running through your brain. Till it was just Bruce. His reassuring touch, running up your arms to trace the bra straps and a silent question you knew he was asking. With the staccato in your chest, you nodded. Just once. Already feeling the rush of blood to your head. It all felt different. More profound. As if every action mattered.

The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. Despite the ridiculous fears, you nodded and watched with bated breath as Bruce carefully lowered both straps and reached around your back to undo the clasp. Another rush of cold air could be only partially blamed for the shiver that wrecked your frame when the bra slipped down. Leaving your torso bare under Bruce’s watchful gaze. His fingertips skated over your tender skin, slowly circling the dark pink areolas and making you gasp. But it was not enough to shut up the brain. Your hand darted out to stop his meticulous study with a grasp around the wrist. His head snapped back up. An instant crease between the eyebrows brought a flush of softness to your heart.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce’s question made you wince.

You could not tell him. Couldn’t-

“Nothing,” the reply was automatic, your tongue falling into the familiar pattern to make up the word, hoping it would be enough to fool him. It wasn’t. You knew it as soon as you saw his brow twitch with disbelief, soothing circles traced into your upper arm acting as a further reason to let it all spill out, “I’m just… feeling weirdly shy, I guess” it was hard to meet his eyes.

Yet the crux of the issue had been laid out. It fell between you, disappearing into the weighted silence. You knew it made no sense. That Bruce had already seen you. Hell, he’s seen so much more. Still. The head did not want to listen to reason. The once hopeful dreams of getting lost in him tonight already seemed improbable. Because how does one get lost when the head and the heart are still in it?

“Why?” another question brought your back to the scene, his measured voice quickly becoming the lifeline you needed.

The string pulling you back from the spiral and forcing you to talk how you probably should have at the beginning. Your breath caught in your chest when you saw the depth of understanding in his gaze. And no judgement or ire. Almost as if, for Bruce, nothing would change no matter what you said next. Almost as if- No. He’d never. You ignored the idea before it could spread like a disease. Instead, you steeled your spine and gathered the courage to answer his question. To reveal a fraction of the truth, as he deserved.

“Because it matters how you see me” your eyes turned glossy as they focused on his face.

It was more than accurate. An admission long overdue. Somehow you could tell Bruce knew that. His hands cupped your face between his palms in a tender hold. Thumbs softly stroke your cheeks as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead before speaking:

“Then there’s no need to worry” his nose brushed against yours in a gentle caress, letting the whisper carry his words through the narrow space between you, “You’re perfect” his gaze flickered from your eyes to your mouth, but it was easy to miss.

Christ. You wanted to say something else. To protest, ask him how he can tell when you are the only woman he has ever been with. But it would not do. Your heart would never let you. No, it already took the compliment and ran with it, thrashing in your chest like a caged bird. There was nothing you could do.

Nothing, but throw your arms around his neck and dive in for a kiss. Bruce was waiting for you, opening his mouth under yours as soon as you pressed your lips against his. Not willing to waste time already running out, you let your tongue dart out. Swirling it around his and then sucking, enough to make him gasp and pull you closer. His arms enveloped your body, somehow making everything seem fine. Complete, even. You kissed him till there was barely any oxygen left, and you had to separate, eagerly exchanging pecks as you both caught your breath. His taste had filled your mouth, getting rid of the salty tint of tears and the bitterness of coffee. Everything was just Bruce. Like always.

Without thinking, you lowered your head to press another kiss to his chin and then below, tracing the slope of his throat with careful pecks. Bruce’s grip tightened over your waist as a broken groan reverberated through his chest. You could almost feel the sound in your bones. The thought rushed through your body like a bolt of lightning, venturing down between your thighs to a spot you had tried your hardest to ignore. But no longer could. Your core throbbed with the persistent desire as wetness spilt onto the gusset of your panties. You did not have to search your heart to know what you wanted.

That need made you bold enough to swipe your tongue in a broad stroke over Bruce’s throat. Collecting the low moan, he let out with satisfaction. As you sunk your teeth into a shallow bite over his pulse point, the feeling grew tenfold inspired by the noises that Bruce could not to stop. As if you were driving him insane. Leaning back to study your work, you knew the mark on his skin would stay. That it would be something he could remember you by, no matter what came after.

Before you could dive back in to continue, Bruce hooked his fingers under your chin to gently make you raise your head and look at him. So you could see the flushed cheeks and swollen lips parted to let out strained breaths. Following a will of their own, your eyes flicked to his waist and then below, checking whether he was just as affected as you were. What you found only made the frenzy worse. As did his words, accompanied by deliberate touch running along the waistline of your trousers:

“I want to taste you,” Bruce leaned in close, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

But you hardly registered it, brain caught up on what he said. Because that… that was quite something. Something you never expected to hear from him. The surprise must have painted across your face, your gaping mouth left open and eyes staring at him for too long. Until your brain thawed enough for you to speak (or stutter):

“Christ… Bruce, you can’t say things like- Okay, yeah” the string of words made only a little sense, but you compensated with a stupid grin and a hasty nod; the anticipatory shiver already coursing through your body as you met his gaze to add, “A sensible lady never says no that” your lips curled into a smirk, gleefully taking note of his mirroring smile, only then it was time for a check in “Do you really want to?” your hand run up his chest to curl around his shoulder.

Feeling the warmth of his skin and the promise of what he offered. But you could not just let him do it. That would have been too selfish. Even if Bruce seemed pretty convinced. The hunger in his eyes stole your breath as he took your verbal consent and hooked his fingers under the waistline of your trousers. Never straying from your gaze, he gave the reply:

“Yes,” his new confidence could easily be your outdoing.

But it could have also been the unceremonial way he pushed you down onto the bed, your body hitting the mattress with a quiet thud. A confirmation enough for the last of your worries.

“Okay,” a nervous giggle broke out from your chest as you watched him lean over you, those blue eyes darker than usual “Blow my mind, sweetheart” there were no doubts in your mind that he was capable.

It was proven as soon as Bruce finished undressing you, the quick work perfected with his lingering touch had you breathing shallowly. The feeling grew once you were lying naked before him, with nothing but the soaked panties to save you from his intense gaze. From the heat of his eyes, caressing what was already familiar. Tracing the paths his hands would soon follow. Unable to withstand the scrutiny much longer, you reached up to get him close, capturing his mouth with a kiss Bruce had long anticipated. He opened his lips underneath yours without a second wasted while letting his hands venture down your stomach, short fingernails emblazoning your tender skin. Before you knew it, he had tugged down your underwear, leaving you bare. The strange shyness had breached the surface again as you broke the kiss with a gasp and met his gaze with wide eyes. Silently asking for mercy.

One quick kiss and a nod had to be enough for you as Bruce gave your nose a playful nudge, his hand delving between your thighs without another warning. Your body shuddered upon his touch, cheeks turning scarlet once you realised how wet you were. Bruce’s surprise was evident in the slight hitch in his breathing, almost disguised by an inhale.

Your slick covered his fingers to the knuckles as he meticulously learnt to play you how you needed. At first, only stroking your clit with a feather-like touch, then circling your entrance, spreading your arousal, and making your thighs shake. It was already bad. And it could only get worse. For your dignity, that is. Sweat pearled on your forehead as you watched Bruce lower himself down your body, placing pecks along your abdomen. He settled between your thighs, the muscles on his back flexing under the skin in the faint light of the bedroom. As if unconsciously acting on his instincts, Bruce pressed a kiss to the inside of your left thigh, quickly following it with another one on the right thigh. Both kisses burned your skin like a hot poker. The sensation culminated in the apex of your thighs, in the frustrating throbbing you could hardly ignore anymore. But you did not have to.

Bruce met your gaze, seeking consent for the final time. With no words found, save for the ones you could never tell out loud, you nodded, impatiently brushing away the stray strands of hair that fell into your eyes. You wanted to see him. That first glimpse of Bruce diving between your legs with his head bowed was reason enough. As was the way his hands curled around your thighs, keeping them apart and spread. Leaving you exposed and shaking with want. All the faintest doubts disappeared when his tongue touched your clit in a kitten stroke. Your body jerked upright, kept in place only with Bruce’s steel grip. He repeated the move, drawing out a moan you could not hold in. Setting your blood on fire. Christ. A thousand curses and endearments rose in your throat but were desperately stifled by your waning self-control. You knew it would not last long.

The first blow came with Bruce’s skilful tongue circling your clit, learning all the different ways to make you tremble. He was a good listener, taking all the cues you were leaving and changing his technique to fit your needs. Searching for grounding, you sank your fingers in his hair and pulled. Bruce did not seem to mind, briefly stopping his feast to press a lingering kiss on your thigh. His fingers traced circles onto your skin, soothing the fevered flesh. The unbidden confessions showed up again, choking you with ferocity. Bruce was the one to save you, letting his tongue delve inside you in an exploratory move. One that made your hips buck into his face and tore a shout from your mouth.

Desire shot through your body like a bolt of lightning, bringing a delirious grin onto your face. It was quickly wiped clean as Bruce continued licking into you with passion you never expected from him. Utterly devoted to the task and focused on driving you crazy. A coil tightened in your lower belly, making it much harder to shut up. Making you squirm and trash under his hold. When he interrupted the relentless penetration with a flick of his tongue over your clit, you could not keep quiet.

“God, you- You’re so good” panting out the sentence that barely made sense, you highlighted the sentiment with a sharper tug on his hair.

Making Bruce groan into your core, the sound pushing you down the slippery slope with no way back. From then on, it was only a question of when you would break. Your body burned under his attention. Each point of contact felt like a flame scorching your flesh. Your heart hammered between your ribs, overwhelmed with the multitude of feelings. Pleasure rose and rose until all you could do was gasp his name between moans. Till your head was empty of everything but Bruce. Until the tension snapped, and an explosion filled your vision with white.

“I’m- Fuck,” the curse substituted any words you could have intended to say, but it was enough.

Bruce knew, his hands gripped your legs harder as if to ground you moments before. You came with his name on your lips and your hand gripping his hair. Your core squeezed around his prodding tongue wave after wave as Bruce lapped at your arousal without hesitation. Your thighs trapped his head between them, but he did not seem to mind, helping you ride the aftershocks with patience. As you came to, feeling your body go limp with a sigh, Bruce took his time earnestly licking at your folds. Collecting every drop as if he was hooked already on the taste. You did not dare dwell on that thought too long.

Instead, you searched for his hand to squeeze his palm. He understood the signal, instantly raising his head to find your gaze. You knew the look in your eyes could only be described as wild, with the pupils blown out large. But staring into his darkened blue stare, the realization did not hurt quite so much. His lips and chin were shiny from your arousal; the discovery of the fact sent a shiver down your spine. Bruce took hold of your hand to return the squeeze while his lips stretched into a confident smile. An incredibly attractive look, you had to admit.

“So… I take it, I did good,” emphasizing the word, Bruce smirked, his eyes twinkling.

Despite the embarrassment at what you said, you could not stop the chuckle. The fondness in your heart made its way to your gaze as you attempted a one-sided shrug.

“You broke me” that was an understatement.

But it only made his grin brighter. Without breaking the eye contact Bruce swept his tongue over his lower lip. Collecting the droplets of your come and crawling up to meet you on the bed. There was no mercy for the wicked.

“I can tell” his eyes roamed over your face affectionately, making you want to hide from his attention.

But you chose to meet it straight on, raising your head just enough to capture his lips in a kiss. Only to instantly groan into his mouth when you tasted yourself on his tongue. Bruce’s embrace tightened around your arms as he gathered you into his chest, carefully laying down next to you. And never breaking the kiss that stretched and evolved to fit your needs. Going from hectic and eager to languid. From chaotic to deliberate, and lasting till you were both out of breath, panting against each other’s mouth, unwilling to separate. You made sure you were sufficiently curled against his warm body before you leaned back to put some space and find his gaze again.

The blue eyes were never disappointing, instantly setting your body on fire with the tenderness you found in them. It felt good to be like this with Bruce, able to let go of the fears and inhibitions. Able to give in to the love you could feel coursing in your bloodstream every second you had spent with Bruce. Because even if he did not reciprocate, the memories would still be there. After. Whatever that meant. After you fucked it and told him, probably. With the aching heart beating in your chest and the creeping dread threatening to tear the moment away from you, the hesitant question placed itself on the tip of your tongue:

“Was it how you imagined?” with your eyes trained on his face, you knew when Bruce caught the meaning.

His flushed cheeks turned redder as his arms tightened around your waist, nose nuzzling into your head to buy him some time. And hide from your curious gaze. Bruce Wayne was adorable, and you had no idea what to do with the fact.

“Better,” his reply came in the form of a rushed word and was followed by an admission you almost thought you had misheard, “Think I’m already addicted to you” he raised his head again to meet your eyes.

It was impossible to get rid of the lovesick look on your face as your body shivered with anticipation. That something was still in the air. The tension that assured you Bruce was eager to take another step. You did not have to search your heart and mind to know you wanted it too. Right here and now. No matter the consequences. You knew there was a high chance you would regret it later. But that did not matter now.

Carefully, you placed your hand over his heart, splaying the palm on his chest and replied:

“That’s my line” taking a deep breath to take the plunge, you added, “I- I want you,” your voice wavered, but the revelation could not have been surer.

The sudden shyness was still concerning, rendering you nearly useless with how it had tied your tongue into knots. But with Bruce, those three words were enough. His eyes darkened almost instantly, a hitch in the breath disguised by a kiss pressed to your temple. It was easy to tell what it meant, encouraging you to trail your hand down the broad planes of his chest and stomach. Eliciting another gasp, this time masked with a tentative question:

“Are you sure?” the irony of his asking did not escape you.

The last time it had been you that asked, a thousand times or more, just to ascertain he would not regret it. To be assured that Bruce wanted to give you that crucial part of himself. A gift no one had given you before. Not quite like that. But now, after everything, you appreciated that he checked. Even though you never needed him to.

“Perfectly” you found his eyes to show him the smile on your face while your hand skated lower still, brushing over his abdomen and the trail of hair disappearing into the waistband.

But you did not stop there, letting your fingertips touch his zipper in what you hoped was a smooth enough suggestion. It worked if the way Bruce grabbed your hand was anything to go by. You shot him a questioning glance, waiting for that telling nod to work his belt undone. Once you had it, his eyes dark and hungry, you did not waste time tugging his trousers and boxers down his legs and throwing them somewhere onto the floor. The longer you hesitated, the more likely it would be for your head or heart to catch up. Intervene in what was supposed to be just sex. No strings attached. Or so you liked to tell yourself.

Only when neither of you could hide behind fabric or pretence, the noises in your head grew quiet again. The room was silent as your eyes trailed over his naked body, consuming all the details you had almost forgotten. Though it had only been days. Like the constellation of moles on his hip or the exact markings of his multiple scars. Like the fading bruises, which were all new to your eyes. Like the feel of his hand running over your hip and thigh, drawing you in for a kiss.

You went willingly, melting into his touch and making sure every inch of your body touched his. With your leg in between his, arms thrown around his waist and mouth sealed in a kiss. A kiss that went on for minutes, which felt like hours. An eternity of your tongues sliding against each other’s and tracing the insides of your mouths. Imprinting the taste of him in your mind forever. Slowly, your hands continued exploration, reaching down to touch his length. Carefully yet firmly enough to elicit a groan from his lips and break the kiss. Encouraged by the reaction, you circled his shaft with your hand, putting pressure and making Bruce gasp. It felt powerful.

Bruce met your gaze with dark, hungry eyes, wasting no time to delve a hand between your thighs and spread your arousal over your folds. All for an act of retaliation that had you cursing under your breath. All to make sure you were ready for him. Without stopping your ministrations, you settled to lie on your back, silently extending an invitation. Bruce took it with your name on his lips and his hands on your waist. He shifted to hover over you, knees resting in the cradle of your thighs. The staccato of your heartbeat thumped between your ribs as you laced your hands on the nape of his neck and met his gaze. Nodding once more to assure the both of you. That it was alright. It was what you wanted. Even if it already felt like a mistake.

Bruce entered you with a gasp falling from his lips, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. You exhaled sharply upon the stretch, body instantly accommodating the feel of him. Your legs opened wider, knees coming up to rest over his hips. It was simple, a primal instinct taking over as you looked him in the eyes and let him know it was okay to move. You could only hope that the pain in your heart would ease. That you could ignore it.

At first, it was easy. You did not let your eyes stray from Bruce, noting every expression that flitting across his face. The awe, the pleasure, and the need. Your fingers tangled into his hair while the other hand sought purchase on his shoulder. Feeling the heat radiating from him and warming every cell of your body. Bruce built up a rhythm, thrusting into you with ease and care. Now and then, he leaned in to kiss you, consuming your lips with his. You tried focusing on it, on the delicious friction and the feel of him inside you. On the closeness and the touch. On the familiarity of his kisses, the pressure of his mouth against yours. But it was not enough. Your heart still felt as if it was being torn apart.

With a moan, you hoisted your legs to cross them over his back, bucking your hips into his. Pleasure erupted underneath your eyelids as he hit the spot that made you cry out his name. Bruce’s only answer was a guttural groan reverberating through your joined bodies. Adding to the urgency building between you. To the need to have it faster and sooner and now. You repeated the move, following that instinct. Soon enough, you had Bruce where you wanted him – gasping and panting; his eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

The pressure in your abdomen rose, making your moans louder. Making you rake your fingernails over his back, breaking the skin and marking Bruce as yours. Only he wasn’t. He wasn’t yours. He could never be yours.

Later you wondered what the reason was. What made you break and shatter like glass. Whether it was how Bruce suddenly opened his eyes and looked at you. His gaze full of affection and admiration you did not deserve and never could live up to. Or his gentle touch, caressing the expanse of your thigh. Or the feel of his breath against your gasping mouth, offering kisses you could not claim without risking too much. Or how he whispered your name, the syllables filled with reverence and devotion. Or maybe it was the constant beating of your heart, spelling out the confessions you could never tell him. Blinding you to the pleasure building in your body.

Before you caught up and understood what was happening, it was done. Tears pooled in your eyes and spilt down your cheeks, tinting your swollen lips with salt. A whimper got caught in your throat, fracturing the moment in a second. You never had the time to hide.

As if in slow motion, you could see when Bruce noticed. His body stilled, eyes widening as his forehead scrunched up with concern. His palm returned to your cheek, rendering it impossible to escape his gaze. The heart thrashed in your chest as you scrapped your mind for words, excuses, anything at all. By the time Bruce asked the question, you came up empty:

“Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?” the worry in his voice felt like a knife to your bleeding heart; you tried turning your head into the pillow, but he did not let you, “Hey, don’t-” you’ve had enough, pressing your palm to his mouth, shutting him up.

At last, your brain found what was needed.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine” the lie fell with practised ease as you slipped on the mask you had tried on many times before; it was just another role, another part to play, “I’m good, Bruce. I promise” forcing a saccharine smile, you moved your palm to caress his face “Don’t stop, please” to strengthen the act, you tightened the muscles in your thighs, caging him within your hold.

Praying to every god you had ever heard of that Bruce would listen. That the tears could dry on your face, and he would push you over the precipice. Help you lose yourself in him and the pleasure. Because you could never explain it. Did not dare to try.

“But you’re-” the conflicted look in his eyes was still there, staining every word with unease.

Ripping your heart into shreds. But there was no other way. There was no universe where you could tell him the truth. No world where you could come clean, whisper those three cursed words, and have this. Things like that didn’t happen to people like you. So, you turned to what you knew best. Desperate to have this night, even if it would be the last one. Impatiently, you wiped the tears off your face and hooked your fingers under his chin, bringing Bruce closer. His mouth an inch away from yours, hot breath fanning your lips:

“I need you like this,” your eyes revealed the despair you no longer tried to hide, “I need you to fuck me so I can forget everything else” as soon as the words left your mouth, you knew why it felt wrong.

It was a dirty trick, an appeal to the side Bruce did not yet have under control. But it was the only one you knew would work. And it had to work.

His gasp and the way he twitched inside you confirmed you were right. But nothing eased the bitterness coating your tongue. Not the way Bruce squeezed you tighter, his swallowed curse buried in the heated kiss you did not deny him. When his tongue swept over yours, you wondered whether he could taste your anguish.

Bruce broke the contact too soon, searching your face for any signs of the truths you had been hiding. All for nothing. Pressing your forehead to his, you whispered the final word of encouragement:

“Please” you met his gaze, aware of your glassy eyes and the pain in your tone.

Bruce only nodded and kissed your forehead, resuming the steady rocking of his hips into yours. Almost as if nothing happened at all. Almost. Your inner walls involuntarily clenched around him, drawing out another groan. Making the throbbing between your thighs prominent again. Just like before. Squeezing his waist with your legs, you latched onto his arms, thrusting up to meet his hips with increasing speed. The desire pooled in your veins, making you bite his shoulder. Resulting in a loud moan, which only spurred you on.

Trading bites like kisses along his neck and throat till Bruce was panting above you. His hips stuttered and twitched in what you knew were tell-tale signs he was close. You were not that far behind, freeing one of your hands to find your clit between your bodies. Desperate to follow him.

Your movement made Bruce look up, his eyes instantly finding yours. You should have always known that would be your downfall. How he looked at you, his gaze filled with a myriad of feelings, some indescribable and impossible to identify. That same unknowable emotion there, like many times before. That tenderness and affection that bruised your heart each time. This one was not any different.

The heart thumped in your chest, the pulse in your ears drowning out thoughts and fears till all you could hear were the moans and sighs neither of you held back. Till unbidden words slipped through your tight control.

“Make me yours. I want to be yours” only when they were out, whispered in between whimpers, you realised what you just said.

What it meant. And prayed Bruce did not hear it. Please.

There was no time to dwell on it, for as soon as the words left your mouth Bruce’s hips stuttered. His tempo waned, forcing you to act. To take over the rhythm and buck your hips till you could feel him tense up. Till it was enough. His lips opened with a breathless moan as he came inside you with a sharp gasp, his head hiding in the crook of your neck. Bruce’s body shook in your hold as he rode the high, never once stopping to chant your name into your skin.

With his arms around you still, it was easy to let go. Let yourself fall, knowing Bruce was there to catch you. For once, you weren’t alone. The sensation of his teeth biting into the sensitive skin underneath your ear pushed you over the precipice. Your vision darkened, a sharp cry piercing the silence as your steel grip bruised his bicep. Your tense muscles uncoiled at once as the orgasm coursed through your body, twitching in the aftershocks. You had been burnt to cinder. Ruined for anyone else. Forever.

Unable to move, you sagged into the mattress, eyes closed to stop yourself from doing something stupid. Or stupider than you’ve already done. Faintly, you could feel a reassuring touch running over your arms and waist, lulling the anxieties and fears. Fooling you into the promise of safety. But the mirage was better than the hard truth and the cruel reality. You took a deep breath to steady your heart and opened your eyes.

Only to find Bruce gazing back at you with concern. On its own accord, your hand rose to smooth the wrinkle between his eyebrows. Before you could drop it again, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist. He rolled off your body, putting inches of space between you as he settled on his side.

“Everything alright?” his question brought you back into the moment, anchoring your mind in the present.

The tinge of relief at the lack of mention of your slip-up was unmistakable. But so was the gratitude you felt upon check-in. A step Bruce could have ignored after everything you had put him through. Especially tonight. Your throat suddenly felt dry. You went too far, didn’t you?

“Yeah. Yes,” swallowing hard, you hoped the guilt could be wiped off your face, “You’ve just kinda blown my mind” a half-hearted shrug and a weak smile were all you could manage.

It was not surprising to see a flash of distrust in Bruce’s eyes as they scanned your face for any signs of lies. You were too good at pretending for him to find anything solid. But he knew you well enough to tell something was off. After a beat, he gave up, meeting your gaze with a smirk of his own:

“You asked me to” the confidence in his voice was still there, now, perhaps even stronger.

Because – yes. You asked, and he delivered, and now you knew, for a fact, that Bruce Wayne was an avid learner. Which somehow made everything harder. Like not falling for him further. If that was even possible.

You did not talk much after. With your refusal to delve into any part of what happened, and Bruce’s inability to persuade you to talk, it was easier to stay silent. As if on autopilot, you pressed a final kiss to his lips and got up, wordlessly heading to the ensuite. To hide and marinate in misery for as long as you could without it being even more suspicious. Avoiding the mirror, you got dressed in a set of sweats and cleaned your face.

The unknown of what you would find back in your room terrified you the most. Because there was no guarantee Bruce would still be there. You did not discuss it, easily letting the awkwardness consume you both. But the hope was still there. The hope that he would stay. Even if just this once.

When you had hand-combed your hair and checked at least twenty times whether there were no signs of the war you were waging in your head, you exited the bathroom. Your eyes darted across the room, drawn to the bed where you had last seen him. Bruce was still there, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his back turned to you. Your heart thumped in your chest, relieved and overwhelmed at once. Bruce waiting on you was just a part of the predicament. The other was that now you had to ask for what you needed.

The creaking floorboards gave away your presence as Bruce glanced at you over his shoulder. He was still shirtless, his back littered with moles, scars, and red lines from where you had scratched him. The discovery brought an instant blush to your cheeks as you silently stared back. The impasse was broken by Bruce’s timid smile, warming up your heart and stifling the fears. If he was still around, it meant that it would be okay. Right?

In a split second, you decided that the only way of finding out was to ask him. No matter how terrifying that seemed. Steeling your spine upon his searching look, you whispered the question:

“Can you stay with me?” fully aware of the tremble in your voice and the shaking in your hands, clasped together tightly.

Aware of the vulnerability you were showing, on top of the rollercoaster of emotions you had dragged him through the past hour. But there was no annoyance on Bruce’s face. An invisible weight lifted off your shoulders as you watched him nod, following the gesture with a reply:

“I was hoping you’d ask” it was that same soft tone which had captured your heart at the very beginning.

Almost as gentle as the look in his eyes, willingly offering the truth you did not expect to hear. Not after everything. Frozen with the dazed smile on your lips, you only moved when Bruce got up from the bed and crossed the space to you. His hand reached out to squeeze your palms as he leaned in to kiss your temple. Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom. But there were no regrets or uncertainties this time. He would stay. It would be okay.

At least until the morning.

***

Later, when she was long asleep, quiet snores breaking the silence in the room, Bruce was still awake. He watched her chest rise and fall with every breath. Her head was cushioned on his shoulder as if it belonged there. There was only a slight twinge of guilt in his heart when he tightened the hold over her body, drawing her closer. Because god only knew how long that would last. Because if there was one thing the evening taught him, it was that she still was lost within the prison of her own making. Unwilling to believe it was real. That this was real. She was still looking for a reason to run. And he had no way of proving her wrong.

But Bruce wanted to try. Even if it would all be in vain.

He stared at her peaceful face, bathed in the faint moonlight peeking through the hastily drawn curtains, feeling the steady beat of her heart. There was only one thought circling in his head like a vulture. She was wrong. And she had to know. Bruce turned his head towards hers, instantly feeling her burrow her head into the crook of his neck. Still asleep. An uncertain smile bloomed on his face as he whispered:

“I told you there would never be anybody else,”

[dirt-cup-draco]

Tethered- Fred x Reader

‘Don’t ever scare me like that again’ kiss with Fred where he lives (I’ve been crying about it lately) xoxo @starofthedawn

Your chest was tied up in knots, eyes burning and bile rising in your throat. The dust that permeated the air felt like gravel in your airways and you couldn’t help the wet cough that slipped past cracked lips. Even as you blinked away the tears that were running out, the world remained blurry and unfocused. 

After all, how could anything make sense when Fred was face down on the cobblestone. Pieces of the castle you two had called home burying him. 

“Lost in my eyes again, Y/N?” Fred asked, a playful tilt to his mouth. You were in the library, head buried in a book and not at all gazing into Fred’s honeyed eyes. You must’ve not heard him come in so when you looked up and saw him you couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in your chest. 

You liked the way his lips were pulled up by an invisible thread as you finally took notice of him.  It wasn’t quite a smile, but a familiar expression that you held dear to your heart. It was understated, especially for Fred Weasley, but the expression was one of his most sincere. 

“Can’t help the fact you’ve got dreamy eyes, George,” 

“Sod off,” Fred said with no real venom, sitting in the chair beside yours and kicking his feet up onto the table. He was lucky Madam Pince didn’t often come to this corner of the library, otherwise she’d have his head.

You stuck your tongue out at him, even daring to toss a quill at his head- but before you could he caught your hand and held on tight. Your bright grin wavered at the edges but that joy was still blooming in your chest. Suffocation was a sure thing. 

“Everything okay, Freddie?” Voice soft, slow. You understood sometimes he just needed a hand to hold and you wouldn’t let yourself believe it was more than that. What it was, was Fred trusting you and needing you as a friend and that was more than enough. 

He nodded, his eyelids heavy and his demeanor sluggish. He almost seemed like a sleepy cat but you could see the way his shoulders dipped as you posed your question. 

Fred squeezed your hand as he sank down into his chair, knees now drawn to his chest in a protective ball. “Course I am, nothing could ever be wrong when I’ve got you to tether me to what’s good,” 

--

Your knees buckled as you stumbled the last foot to where Fred lay. Unmoving, broken, probably not breathing- You shook your head wildly even as the tears burned and your brain ached. Just like every other wizard, every other soldier at Hogwarts today, you had your fair share of injuries but you felt the pain dull to nothing; Your vision tunneled to the familiar hand that stuck out from the rubble, the feather soft shock of red hair that was visible under all the grey, lifeless stone. 

With a flick of your hand, some of the rubble broke loose and found themselves discarded on the burned and torn up grass ten feet from you. The panic pounding at your ribcage was only eased by the determination you felt to get Fred out of there, alive. There was no other option. 

Waves would stand still without the moon, plants would dry up without water, and you would cease to be anything but a shell without Fred Weasley. 

--

It had been an honest mistake at the time, George had tugged you away after class one day to an empty corridor and nearly begged you to ask Fred and put the both of you out of your “self sabotaging misery”. Problem was, all Katie Bell saw was George whisking you away somewhere private a week before the ball was to commence, both of you dateless. 

By the time you had both gone to the great hall for lunch, your group of friends were deep into speculations. 

“Going to the ball with Y/N then?” Fred fixed George with a look you couldn’t quite decipher but the shock of him thinking such a thing had you missing that usual twitch of his eye when he was aggravated. 

George whipped his head to you in confusion but it went unnoticed when Lee said, “Great! Of course you two got dates before me,” gesturing wildly to the twins. 

All of the confusion had your head spinning but hearing that Fred had a date to the ball made you steady again, the lead pit in your stomach anchoring you. Anyone would be a fool to not want to go with Fred. 

“You’ve got a date?” You said a bit too loudly, eyes narrowed at Fred. 

“Asked Angie,” 

“Yeah, two minutes ago,” She snorted. “Guess he didn’t want George to beat him by too much of a landslide,”  

George let out a too-loud laugh and tossed his arm back over your shoulders. “Take that Lee, we got two of the hottest girls in school to be our dates,” 

“Go with me instead and I’ll buy you as many sugar quills as your heart desires, Y/N” Lee bargained and George swatted him on the back of a head with a faux glare. 

You couldn’t help but snort at Lee’s antics, looking at George with gratitude. You could tell he was trying to talk you up, keep your heart from falling too far. However, his efforts couldn’t completely ease the ache in your chest. You were tethered to Fred and you didn’t think anything could change that. 

--

You’d done your best to completely immobilize Fred when most of the rubble was removed, only some of the smaller chunks of wall now littered over his legs and back. The immobulus charm had to be enough to keep him stable. If he was still alive. 

It was the uncertainty that kept you going in this moment. If there was even a slim chance Fred could be alive, you would do all you could to save him. You refused to lose him and that was that. You wished you could see his chest moving, or any sign of life but he was still too buried and the dust that settled over the battlefield made your eyes unfocused. 

Even though the final battle had ended an hour or more ago, how long had it been since you’d found Fred?, you were shut off from any of the joy that the win could have brought you. If Fred wasn’t going to be there to celebrate then how could you? 

“We’ve got to fix up the shop a-and get butterbeers,” You sniffled, trying to keep your hands from shaking as you worked your way through the rubble. You kept speaking as if holding Fred to his promises would bring him over the threshold and into your waiting arms. 

“You’ve got to give me that birthday present you’ve been bragging about for months, and you’ve got to help me prank Lee for singeing my favorite sweater with one of your fireworks,”

And on and on you went, all of the promises Fred had ever made you falling from your lips as you pulled the last of the rubble from his body. One of his legs and all of the fingers on his right hand were bent at grotesque angles. There was a line of blood that started somewhere behind his hairline and trailed down his temple, dripping off of his jaw and onto the ruins he had nearly become a permanent part of. 

You wouldn’t permit your legs to shake as you stood, the sun being further down in the sky than you remembered. The wave of your wand was light and methodical even as every step towards help weighed you down. 

Time passed you without you taking note, the sun sank beneath the horizon and you stumbled your way through the dark. Eventually, you were taken off guard by the light of someone’s wand. Time caught up to you then as you stared with bleary eyes, trying to recognize the face before you but having a hard time sorting anything in your over exhausted brain. 

“Help him,” Was all you had energy for, before darkness took over. 

--

“...understand how she did it,” 

“...miracle, really,” 

“Poor girl must’ve....” 

Conversations floated around your head as you lay cemented underneath the sheets that you had been securely wrapped in. You wanted nothing more than to swat them away like pesky flies, the voices weren’t loud but to you it was as if someone had put a speaker in the empty space of your skull and turned the volume up as high as it could go. Everything ached. 

“Am I dead?” You croaked, eyelids still too heavy to even attempt opening. 

Immediately, a woman nearly screamed and a cacophony of other voices rose up- both familiar and not. 

“You look like you wish you were,” Someone joked to your left and your eyes snapped open so quickly you became dizzy. You felt frozen in place as honey eyes swept over you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Despite being covered from the chin down you felt as if you were being looked through. A shiver ran down your spine and it was followed by a deep ache that had you groaning despite the emotions bubbling up within you. 

“Damn you Fred,” Was all you had to say before everyone else around you was clearing out. For a split second you felt guilt when you realized your parents as well as the Weasleys had come to stand beside you as you healed. 

“I’ve come back from the brink of death and that’s what you have to say to me?” He teased but his voice was torn to shreds and you had the terrible image in your mind of him screaming for help until he lost consciousness. The blood drained from your face. 

Fred seemed to take notice as he shuffled out of his bed that was right next to yours. He paused at the edge, fumbling for the crutches that were at his bedside. It felt like years the time it took for him to fall into the chair nearest you, his hand stretching for yours. 

You moved pathetically against the sheets but in your weakened state you couldn’t grasp his hand. “Freddie,” You croaked, eyes filling with tears in frustration. You’d thought him dead and now you couldn’t even move a damn blanket to touch him, to make sure this wasn’t a dream. 

“I’m here,” He reassured, moving the sheets on your side gently until your hand was free and you could tangle your fingers with his non-broken hand. 

“How?” 

“I’ve been telling you for years now, you’re my tether. Just when I thought I was going to cross over, I heard you. All the promises we made, and all the chaos we have yet to make, all the things I haven’t said,” Fred’s bottom lip trembled as he brushed his thumb over your scabbed knuckles. You were faintly aware of a needle in your forearm, attached to an IV but all that mattered was the warmth you felt from Fred. 

“You could break them all and I’d still be counting my lucky stars that you’re here,” You cried, falling into a coughing fit. Fred was quick to press a still cold glass of water into your hands and help you sit up even from his place on his chair. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” He promised, hand remaining at the back of your neck as he settled you against your pillows. That genuine not-smile was back and you chewed on your lip to keep from crying again. You still weren’t sure he was here so any reminder that it was really him had you at a breaking point. 

“Can you make me one more promise then?” You caught his gaze but found you couldn’t hold it, the intensity making your stomach swoop and your heart pound against your rattled ribcage. 

Fred had yet to move, his hand steady behind you and his face close. Your noses were nearly touching as he said, “Anything.” 

“Don’t scare me like that ever again,” 

You chanced one more look at him, eyes wide and pleading. You were going to make him promise on everything in him but the rest of your words were lost when you stumbled over the loud adoration in his eyes. As if on autopilot, you removed your hand from his to brush your fingertips against a gash on his cheek. 

“Never again,” He whispered, frozen in place. He didn’t dare move when you let your movements wander over his lips, taking your time before you let your hand fall against the junction of where his shoulder met his neck. Beneath the collar of the hospital gown you could see garish bruising that only served as another reminder you’d almost lost him. 

That was enough to remind you that there was much unsaid between you and the man you loved. You could feel his shaky breath, his hand squeezing yours just enough that you felt the reassuring pressure. When you took your third look at those eyes, you knew. 

You moved at the same time, in tune to one another in a way you always have been. It was with a sigh that your lips met, frightened and curious and wonderful. You were careful of his head would as you played with the hair at the back of his neck and he made sure not to move you anymore than tilting your head to slot your lips against his at a better angle. 

Fred pulled away when his smile dared to take over his face but you couldn’t complain about the loss when you could feel his pulse beating strongly against your fingers, his chest moving steadily with life. 

“I’m just as tied to you as you are to me,” You laughed softly, in disbelief. 

Fred looked surprised for all but a second before he was placing his lips against yours, cautious but deliriously happy. 

Waves swayed with the moon, plants flourished with water, and you were never far from Fred Weasley. Each were tethered to their counterpart and nothing could change it. 

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 17

Hannibal teaches y/n a useful skill.

@dovahdokren @lov3vivian @deadman-inc-bikeshop

Trigger warnings: use of firearms, discussion of firearms, violence

“So where are we off to next?” You asked, following Will around the office. “Are we questioning this Rachel woman, or are we going straight to the church?” 

Will sighed. “Jack and I are going to the church. I’m calling Hannibal to come pick you up.”

“What?” You spat in utter disbelief. “What the hell happened to taking him down together?” 

“You’ve already been more help than we could ask for.” Will explained. “This is the end of the line for you. We--”

He cleared his throat and looked down. “I can’t bear to see you get hurt.” 

“That’s sweet and everything, but,” You folded your arms. “You really think someone is going to hurt me in broad daylight in a megachurch?” 

“Well, somebody stabbed you in broad daylight in a restaurant, and that person just happened to come from this megachurch.” Will rationalized. “So, yes. I wouldn’t say it’s out of the question.” 

“So that’s it, you’re just going to pass me off to Hannibal?” You threw up your arms. “Look, I had enough of this growing up with divorced parents.” 

“Angel,” Will soothed, running a gentle hand down your arm. “Please. I’m begging you, think on this for just a minute and try to see why I don’t want you on this particular excursion?” 

You thought on it for a minute. “Churches do kind of trigger me.”

“I saw how tense you got when that woman said she’d kicked her daughter out of the house for dating a girl. I understand, dealing with people who remind you of Chase is going to trigger you.” Will whispered. “Have you even taken any time to work on healing?” 

“I could say the same to you.” You disputed. “You killed a woman and then came face-to-face with her mother. Why aren’t you trying to work through that?” 

“That’s different.” He blurted out. “That’s my job.” 

“Sure.” You snipped. “I have to take time to work through my PTSD, but you don’t. Got it.” 

“If you go home with Hannibal now, I promise I will...” He hesitated to finish the sentence. “I’ll work on my issues too. Cross my heart.” 

“Oh, I will absolutely hold you to that.” You pointed at him. “And I’m telling Hannibal you said that.” 

Will immediately regretted making that promise and it was obvious from his expression. “Please don’t.” 

“I am absolutely going to do that.” You said, in a way in which he couldn’t tell if you were kidding or not. 

Hannibal opened the passenger’s door for you and greeted you with a kiss. He could tell you were feeling off after only a few seconds. 

“Why so sad, my indulgence?” He asked, pulling out of the parking lot. “Don’t tell me you enjoy Will’s company more than mine?” 

“What? No.” You shook your head. “No way.” 

“You can tell me what’s on your mind, love.” He assured you. 

You sighed and rested your head on the window. “Will doesn’t want me to help on the investigation anymore.” 

“I don’t see why he should.” Hannibal agreed. “You’re tracking down the man who tried to kill you, and he’s tracking down the man who tried to kill his lover. Both of you are far too close to the situation and your mental health will suffer for it. But, in the end, it’s Will’s job.” 

“I know.” You conceded. 

“That, and,” Hannibal continued. “Will is a trained professional under the supervision of other trained professionals. He’s far less likely to get hurt.” 

“I get it.” You groaned and rolled your eyes. “At the end of the day, he’s the action hero and I’m the damsel in distress.” 

“Darling,” Hannibal scolded. “You know our situation isn’t so black-and-white. You know the investigation couldn’t have worked without you.” 

“I know.” You pouted. “I just wanted the final blow, y’know? I think I deserve to finish the job.” 

Hannibal went quiet for a moment. When you came to a stoplight, he turned his gaze to you. “You want to be more proactive in your safety.” 

“Would be nice.” You shrugged. 

“I wasn’t asking.” Hannibal corrected. “You do want to be more proactive. It’s why you have a firearms license in your wallet and a handgun in your car. It’s also why you were looking up hunting equipment last night while you were on the phone with Freddie Lounds.” 

You swallowed. Every word in the English language escaped you. He was right. You never saw the appeal of guns until you lived alone. Even though a "gun owner" was technically what you were, you didn't want to associate yourself with the jingoistic, hyper-masculine culture affixed to the term. You were just a woman who kept a gun in her car and had all the proper licensing and registration for it. Nothing wrong with that. So why did it have you feeling so defensive? 

You lowered your head. “I’m sorry.” 

“For?” 

“Lying about Freddie Lounds.” You finished. “I don’t know why I felt the need to lie about that, in hindsight-” 

“I understand.” Hannibal cut you off. “You were just doing what you felt needed to be done. Will would have done the same.” 

He was right again. 

“Ambitious of you to select a shotgun as your weapon of choice.” Hannibal observed. “At the risk of sounding like a chauvinist, I have to ask. Do you know how to use one?” 

“No.” You admitted. “It was just a power fantasy, I guess. All I know is that you can blast a guy’s head off with one.” 

Without a word, Hannibal took an abrupt turn. 

“Isn’t your place that way?” You asked, pointing in the opposite direction. 

“Do you have your license on you now?” He asked. 

“Of course I do, why?”

“Because we’re going to make your power fantasy a reality.” He answered.

Soon enough, you pulled up to a large hunting store with a shooting range attached. 

“Go in and pick out something you like.” Hannibal instructed, reaching for his wallet. “I’ll be waiting for you at the range and I can teach you how to use it.” 

He offered you one of his shiny metal credit cards. When you didn’t immediately take it, he pushed it closer to you. 

“I just got a thousand dollars from Freddie Lounds.” You pushed his hand away. “I can pay for it.” 

“You deserve something much nicer than only a thousand dollars can buy you.” Hannibal’s voice hardened. 

“So then I’ll buy something more than a thousand dollars and use your credit card to make up the difference.” You offered. 

“No.” Hannibal said, sternly. “I will buy you a nice gun and plenty of ammo, and you will save your thousand dollars for when you open your own restaurant.” 

“How did you-” You objected. 

He cut you off. “Will isn’t very good at keeping secrets, dear. Take it.” 

You laughed uncomfortably. “Hannibal, if you don’t put that credit card away I will bite your finger off.” 

His thin lips curled into a cunning smile. He offered you his other hand. “Bite away, darling.”  

You wordlessly snatched the card from his hand. 

“Oh, pity.” Hannibal feigned disappointment. “Did I call your bluff?” 

You tucked the card away in your pocket. You leaned in as if you were going to give him a kiss on the cheek, but playfully nipped at his earlobe. 

"Remind me to give you a little special attention when the lesson is up." He whispered, his hand clutching your arm.

You made sure to walk away slowly, rolling your hips with every step.

You entered the store, feeling overwhelmed and significantly less confident than you did while shopping for guns online.

An employee approached you. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever sexist comment he was about to hurl at you. But somebody must have taught this particular associate that being a misogynist prick doesn't sell guns.

"Anything I can help you find, ma'am?"

Your mouth ran before your brain. "I'd like to buy a gun, please."

"Well, you've come to the right place." The employee smiled. "What kind of gun are you looking for?"

"A shotgun." You corrected.

"Well, we have plenty of makes and models to choose from." He clapped his hands together and led you to a wall lined with shotguns. "Any specifics in mind?"

"I guess I just want something simple enough to use." You scratched the back of your head. "My boyfriend is taking me skeet shooting this weekend so I don't have time to learn all the complicated mechanics."

"So skeet?" The man put his hands down on the counter and looked deep in thought. He turned around and pulled one off the shelf. "I'd recommend this CZ over-under. It's a good place to start."

He offered it to you. Your eyes widened and your first instinct was to refuse.

He looked at you with confusion. "How are you gonna shoot anything if you don't hold it?"

You shook off your nerves and took the gun in your hands. It was a little heavy, and tilted near the stock. You looked at it as if it were a beautiful but deadly venomous tropical snake.

"Over-under's are the working man's shotgun." The employee said. "Or, woman, as it were."

You held it up to your shoulder like you saw in movies and felt a strange rush of exhilaration pulsing through your body.

"It's nice, right?" He asked. "And you can get to the trigger okay?"

"I'll take it." You said. "And some bullets, please."

"Now we're cooking with gas." He answered, a big smile on his face. "Let's get you rung up."

The fact that he didn't even stop to notice that the name on your license didn't match the name on the credit card only emphasized your country's need for stricter gun control laws. Even if the lack of such laws benefitted you in that moment, the ease of the process killed you a little.

The total came up to just under a thousand dollars. You couldn't bring yourself to spend more than you planned to, even if it was Hannibal's treat. You already felt weird about using Hannibal's money, let alone so much of it.

The employee saw you out with a friendly "happy skeeting" and you set off to meet Hannibal at the range.

"There you are, love." He greeted you. He had removed his suit coat and tie, and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows.

For a split second, you completely forgot about the gun and were overtaken by the need to fuck him. You quickly regained control of yourself. "Yeah. I found something."

"I should hope so." He said, beckoning to you from the stall. "Come now. Let me show you what to do."

You stood in front of the booth, ears and eyes protected. At the end of the long booth was a paper target. Hannibal positioned himself behind you. He took your hand in his and guided it to the stock wrist.

"Wrap your fingers around here, like this." He instructed, his dark, accented voice shaking you to your core. "Now extend your finger to reach the trigger. Yes, that's it."

"Now place your other hand on the fore-end and hold the end of the stock against your shoulder."

The way he shaped your body, positioned your limbs felt almost alarmingly natural. He wasn't just indulging your power fantasy, he was directing it.

"Cheek against the stock, love." He instructed. "The gun is an extention of you. You must hold it firmly and give it support. You move with it, it moves with you."

He rummaged through the shopping bag and pulled out a package of shells. "Are you ready to shoot it, darling?"

"I think I should probably load it first." You said, nervously.

"Well that should take us no time at all." Hannibal approached with two 12 gauge shotshells. "Go ahead and engage the break lever right at the edge of the barrel."

When the gun suddenly bent in half, your first thought was that you'd broken it. Hannibal handed you the two shells and watched you timidly slide one into each barrel.

You felt yourself shaking and your palms were damp with sweat. You swallowed. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Were you afraid the first time you drove a car?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"Cripplingly." You nodded. "I was so scared I didn't take my foot off the brake the whole time."

"But now driving comes just as naturally to you as walking." Hannibal smiled comfortingly. He placed his hands over yours and returned you to the shooting position. On one side, the cold stock rested against your cheekbone. On the other, Hannibal's hot breath grazed against your skin. "It just takes some getting used to."

Your finger squeezed the trigger and the massive projectile exploded from the gun. The stock pushed back into your shoulder, making you stumble backwards into Hannibal.

"Holy shit!" You exclaimed. "That's got some serious recoil. Is it supposed to do that?"

Hannibal chuckled and took a step back, giving you a little space. "Yes, darling. Now go ahead and fire off the next shot."

Your eyes widened. "Okay."

"Remember, you move with the gun, you don't fight the gun." He instructed. "It's more afraid of you than you are of it."

You squeezed the trigger again, this time fully expecting the recoil. The shot fired, and this time it hit the target.

You hopped in delight. "Holy shit I actually got one!"

"All it takes is a little getting used to." Hannibal stroked your hair. "Now unload the shotgun shells and let's go again."

[extremelyblackandwhite]

where does it end?

Pairing: Queen!Reader x Knight!Bucky Barnes 

Warning(s): angst, sexual themes, triggering content, dark!steve

A/N: by @lookiamtrying​ request, i am posting the last part to an year old mini fanfic i wrote. last chapter inspired by love me or leave me. enjoy xx

The world had barely seen the Queen ever since her loss. She was locked in her room and never left for any reason. Steve had been assigned her duties and her meals were taken into her chambers by her handmaidens. She had even moved her King and husband from her room. No one heard from her and some handmaidens were quick to start coming up with the wildest of theories while some believed she could be expecting, but James knew it wasn’t the truth. 

     - The King’s calling for you, Sir Barnes. - Natalia walked into the training chambers where he was supervising some new blood into the royal army. James sighed, turning to his second and telling him to take his place before following the redhead into the King’s headquarters.

He wasn’t very keen on talking to him much less look at him. James despised him with every drop of his being but yet he couldn’t figure out if it was because he had gotten the ultimate prize or if he had threatened to have her head cut off due to infidelity which had never happen. 

They finally stopped in front of the King’s Quarters which had been the young Queen’s library and now rudely turned into somewhere where Lord Rogers rudely tried to take her place. He was royalty but he didn’t have the grace or the beautiful ruling ability the Queen had. 

    - Your Royal Highness ... - the redheaded female knocked on the huge mahogany doors whose initials had been removed. She slowly opened the door to see the blonde reading some papers. - Sir Barnes is here, as you requested. 

    - Thank you, Lady Romanova. - he said, not even looking up from his papers. Natalia took James inside, leaving him there only hearing his heartbeat and the wood crackling on the fireplace. He heard the doors closing behind and his last conversation with the king came to mind. 

    - Your Majesty, what do you wish from me? - no matter how hard he disliked the man, he was still his King and while Y/N was unavailable, he’d have to answer to him and only him.

    - You are a smart man, Sir Barnes. My advisors say you take it after your father, ever so calculating. You’re a man who, like me, knows that despite our dear Queen being ever so thoughtful, ever so loved, she has one job that she needs to do as a Royal of her gender. Can you tell me what is it?

    - Provide heirs to ensure the house keeps on. - James refused to look Steve in the eyes. He didn’t understand where he was going, he didn’t understand why he asked that. - What does that have to do with me, your majesty?

    - She refuses to see me and since she’s the rightful heir, her advisors have suggested another husband for the Queen considering we won’t produce any heirs. - Steve got up from his seat walking up to one of the countless shelves filled with books owned by the crown family. - I’ve spent years in my brother’s shade, heir in spare and I will not have my marriage annulled and lose my crown because my wife refuses to lay with me. 

    - I don’t understand what that has to do with me, Your Majesty. 

    - My wife clearly doesn’t want to lay with me but she doesn’t seem to have minded laying with you before we were married. At this point I don’t care who the child is as long as she’s pregnant. 

Bucky’s heart sank into his stomach as his brain started to process what he was asking of him. It couldn’t be, he wouldn’t want that, Bucky couldn’t do that. His eyes seemed void of life as he looked up at his King whose position was so so fickle.

    - I don’t think I understand, your Majesty. - Bucky hoped he didn’t understand, he really hoped he was wrong. 

   - What part of fuck my wife do you not understand, Sir Barnes? - he growled at the man standing in front of him. - I will not be thrown off my rightful throne because my wife refuses to get knocked up. 

   - With all due respect, your Majesty, it is her rightful throne. She’s the heir.

   - You see, Sir Barnes I really don’t wanna accuse my wife of adultery. It will end up in her beheading and I really don’t think the people would enjoy that. Besides, of course I will pay you a good amount for your service and it’s not like I will deprive you of seeing the child. - Bucky could feel himself churn at the thought of the man so many called loyal and rightful treat Y/N as if she were a breeding dog, as if she were a business, as if she wasn’t the human with the heart of gold he knew she had.

No, no, Bucky couldn’t do that to her. He knew his Queen like the palm of his heart, she was sweet, fair and anyone who’s by her company normally basks in her light which seems to reflect of her own words. He couldn’t agree to treat her as if she was merely a breeding object but he also couldn’t allow for her to be beheaded. It terrified him to see the face he used to love to wake up next to, her little smirky whenever she stole swords from knights as her princess, her sunny smile whenever she performed an operetta correctly gone. He couldn’t see her gone. No. He had promised to protect his sovereign and she would always be her Queen.

     - I cannot do that. 

     - Your father fought to protect this kingdom. I am fighting to protect it too, you cannot let a woman rule by herself, who’ll inherit the throne? Besides, you surely didn’t mind fucking her like a cheap whore when she wasn’t married.

     - Your wife has always been loyal to you since her marriage. I’ve told you that before. 

     - Then I think you have a choice to make. 

Bucky felt the world collapse on top of his. Through his mind rushed the moments he had shared with her, from the very first moment he met her sitting at one of her mother’s teas, pink frilly dress, the smile she gave him to her wedding when he refused to stop the ceremony. He wondered if he should’ve had stopped but he also wondered what life he could’ve given her. It didn’t matter anymore, he should’ve stopped it, he should’ve done something. He thought of the life she could’ve had if he had stopped her, she wouldn’t have gotten pregnant, she wouldn’t have lost the baby, he wouldn’t have disappointed her once again and she wouldn’t be traded around like a harlot.

As he exited the study, he knew what he had to do. He had to take her away from the kingdom as sure as possible, send her to one of their allies, maybe to one of her younger sister’s kingdoms gained by marriage, anywhere that could aid her in stopping what was happening behind her back.

    - Don’t. - he turned around to see his wife, Natalia. She held a cold look in her face, too cold contrasted to her fiery red hair but he still could point out the crack in the ice of her eyes. It was still there, begging. - I know what you’re thinking about, James. Don’t do it. 

    - Get off my way, Natalia. - she stood in front of him like an unmovable rock, stronger than the tide itself, never stopping. - I won’t say it again.

    - Just sleep with her, James. He’ll pay you well and we could leave this, we could maybe buy a piece of land, start over. - jealousy is a damned thing, he realised. He realised jealousy had shaped the wife once friend who he had known all his life as someone who knew right from wrong, it had shaped her into a cunning woman, one which knew how to ride the problem of her marriage away. But she couldn’t erase the problem, she could never get what was already someone else’s, no matter how hard she tried. - You’ll only end up getting yourself killed.

    - Move.

    - No, James. 

    - Do not make me hurt you. - he stepped closer to the red head, close enough he could feel her breathing on his face, fists clenched. 

    - Would you hurt your wife for her? 

Yes. The answer was yes but he wouldn’t say it to her. Instead he shoved her away from him, watching as his lack of answer broke through her cold facade allowing him to overpower her. Natalia watched as he strode through the halls, not even looking back. He had been gone a long, long time away, but now, now he was walking away and she stood in the corridor, on her knees, stubborn soul refusing for the tears gathered on her eyes to stream down her face, hate growing where love once blossomed. 

Bucky strode through the corridors, the phantom of Y/N still haunting him as if the memory of younger, better days were pulling at his brain like bottled regrets. She would always let her hand close to his, hoping for him to grab it and he never did, he never did. He wondered why he never did. As he stepped closer to her chambers, he could see her handmaids surrounding the door, still locked out and not allowed in. 

   - You’re needed elsewhere. - he spoke in a tone which left no room for interpretation. The girls immediately rush away, fears of the man which seemed to had turned bitter with time too present in their minds. Bucky didn’t care or feel any pity for them. They had comfortable lives, they didn’t need pity, they needed to be away from the Queen.

His hand went straight to the door handle, pushing it open but the door didn’t budge. Y/N was still locked in. He tried in, hoping the door would cave in but once again it didn’t. They weren’t supposed to cave in. His fists started banging against the gold encrusted door and had he not lost his flesh arm long years ago, it would’ve started bleeding from the force alone. 

    - Open the door, Y/N! - desperation dripped from his voice but she herself, like the door didn’t cave in.

   - Stop banging on the door and go away, James. - he could hear her from the other door. So close and yet so far away.

   - Open this door or so help me I will break it down myself. - Y/N didn’t doubt him. She knew what his arm could do but she was also much too smart not to get hurt again. Nevertheless, she unlocked the door, turning the small golden key held by the lock and he immediately pushed the door open. Her eyes scanned him, he was deranged, like an animal in the wild.

   - Get out, James. I swear I will call the guards on you. 

   - We need to go. - he walked into her bedroom, straight to the hanger where her cape hanged from. Grabbing it, he threw it at her but Y/N remained in her spot, no affection for him in his face. Had he not been so concerned for her head remaining on her shoulders, it would’ve hurt him. - I said we need to go, Y/N. 

    - You don’t get to order me around. 

    - Do you still love me? - the question took Y/N by surprise. Almost as if something had hit her, she took a few steps back, looking behind her to see that not so far away there were some guards. She could just call for them.

    - James, I will call the gu ...

    - Do you still love me? - he interrupted the young queen, punctuating every single word like a stab on an already aching heart. There was no saint, there was no devil, just two aching hearts filled with scars that were starting to harden the youthful hope it used to harbour.

Did she still love him? Yes. She can’t find the words to tell him, head and heart bleeding in negative thoughts. She could never say to him she didn’t and whenever she told him she did, he would turn his face and walk away leaving her broken, shattered on the floor by a love surely classic love tales warned her about. In her memory everything still burned from when he said he didn’t love her from when he called himself a mere companion. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she loved him so instead she nodded.

    - I have to get you out right now. I’ll explain later. - he stepped towards her but there was no ice cold nature to him, no violence. Instead, he slide the cape behind her, tying it around her neck before placing the hood over her head. It was a bleak brown cape she would use whenever going into the town’s market. 

His hand wrapped around hers as he turned the opposite way from the guards, walking towards the training grounds from which he could sneak her out and into the carriage which led into the town where she could get a train ticket into one of her sisters’ kingdoms. He kept rushing through the halls until a very familiar voice made him stop, rushing her to the opposite corridor. Both of them were up against the wall. 

   - Thank you for letting me know, Natalia. - the voice boomed through the corridor before he turned to address the guard with him. - Make sure Sir Barnes and the Queen leave. Sadly, our Queen seems to have chosen an illicit affair over her wedding and therefore she is a traitor to our country. 

Y/N looked up to Bucky, not understanding exactly what had happened but knowing she clearly couldn’t remain in the castle. Bucky mouthed kitchen to her, before helping her rush down the corridor onto the kitchen. Both of them ran through the oven heated grounds until the wooden door. Luckily for them, it was open.

   - Here. - Bucky handed her a small pouch. - There’s enough for a train ticket and more if anything happens. 

   - Are you coming?

   - Bucky, you’re gonna be killed. If affair isn’t believed, he’ll surely blame you for rape or kidnapping and he’ll kill you.

   - Y/N.

   - Do you love me? - she had one hand on the open door’s handle and one extended to him.

Yes. His hand touched hers and they exited, door behind them closed as everything was left behind.

[jungstruly]

Stupid Cupid || 01

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You’ve ought to believe that you have a curse when it comes to love after a handful of disastrous dates, but when a certain baseball captain Lucas Wong finally looked your way, you were done with having that curse. The little love God can fuck himself anyways.

Or where in,

Best friend Haechan’s playing cupid and doing cupid’s dirty work behind your back to drive away your potential lovers all because of a pinky promise the both of you shared during high school. It’s only a matter of time until he blows his cover off. Until then, the stupid little cupid’s crazy plan to stop you from falling in love will be his top priority.

Genre || Rom-com, fuff, crack, slice of life, angst in the future, Uni!AU, Baseball!AU, Band!AU

Pairings || Business student /bassist!Donghyuck x Architecture student!Reader x Engineering student/baseball captain!Lucas (A side of Nursing student!Jeno, Business student!Renjun and Engineering student!Hendery)

Word Count || 3.6k

Taglist || @lelenoir​, @nzeeten​, @emvrd​, @badwithten​, @4-sun, @bl--ankhaeji​, @sunhyuck​, @hyuckiesoftie​, @hoshitaro​, @in-my-neofeelings, @chenleschurros, @deuxvous, @renjunluvr119, @neostains, @lovelyvitamin, @melxmay, @cherry-jaemin, @eyypeach, @shotoshortcake, @apollohyucks, @flirtyhyuck, @moonmystv, @princessaecha, @theprincessofuwus, @seungminh0, @dogghawaii3, @shyshybabyy, @jaeveil, @immasoftiee, can’t tag @dlndreamie & @mimika-28 for some odd reason :<

@scissorhands1617 & @neowrld thank you so much for being the best beta reader I could ask for!

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist!

PART ONE

   “I think we need to call an ambulance.” 

Jeno was quick to his feet. He even pushed Renjun off of his seat just so he could get out of the cafe’s booth. Within a few seconds, the nursing student was beside Haechan, trying to get his pulse. You and Renjun shared a nervous look as he tried to look for his phone, only to be startled by a loud laugh.

“Hyuck,” you gasped when Jeno gave the unconscious boy in your arms a loud forehead flick. “You’re not tricking anyone here buddy.”

All three pairs of eyes were on Donghyuck before his shoulder shook with laughter. Huffing in annoyance, you inched your face closer to his to get a better look. His eyes finally fluttered open. A huge grin was plastered on his lips. 

Donghyuck’s laughter died down the moment he saw how close you were to him. He finally smiled softly, admiring your features up close. You were friends with him for too long, far too long to the point of memorizing each other’s curves, bumps and scratches. Donghyuck couldn’t help but to crane his head up just to get a better view of your face. He finds it amazing how he still gets mesmerized by your beauty each passing day. 

“Gotcha,” You felt his fingers pinched your nose. Rolling your eyes, you pushed him off of you before scooting away from him.

“You’re an asshole. You know that?” You scowled, completely annoyed by his crazy antics. 

He leaned back on his seat, looking at you with a playful grin. “That I am aware of. Thank you for reminding me.”

Donghyuck’s remark only made you groan in irritation. You gave him a final glare as you leaned on the window away from him. Renjun only chuckled in amusement the moment he saw him leaned his head on your shoulder, standing up to let Jeno back to his seat.

“Whipped nation rise.”

“Shut up or I won’t recheck your homework.”

Jeno shook his head. His heart rate went back to normal. He removed his glasses to wipe the dirt off, staring outside the window to let his eyes rest. It was quite hard to recognize people without his prescription glasses but he was a hundred percent sure that someone waved at him outside. Jeno quickly wore his glasses again. He waved excitedly to the boy outside, obviously forgetting about your previous conversation.

“Hey Hyuck, isn’t that Lucas Wong who beat your ass last training?” The boy outside was still waving with such enthusiasm as if he saw an old friend. 

Your head whipped to your side, only to widen your eyes as you do a double take. It was indeed a small world. What are the odds of your happy crush being acquaintances with one of your best friends? Too little but the universe seemed to be on your side. You tried to sit back straightly, hands flying to your hair in an attempt to brush it back to look presentable. You can’t help but to let your eyes linger on the tall and handsome guy. His smile was charming and infectious that it made you unconsciously mirror him. Your eyes caught the dark blue polo that he was wearing, acknowledging him as a part of the Engineering department.

You froze right there and then when his eyes met yours. You felt like you were about to explode because of the unexpected turn of events. Not wanting to be awkward, you gave him a shy smile. 

Oh dear, you felt like you were going to pass out when you saw him grin at you. His friends beside him saw what was happening so they playfully pushed him, teasing him as they walked towards the gate which was located beside Mama Lee’s cafe. You were right. Your happy crush was hella cute now that you’ve seen him just a few feet away from you. His large eyes and ears along with his charming smile and his well defined built burned at the back of your brain.

“I think he just waved hi to,” Jeno’s friendly smile didn’t falter just one bit as he turned back to all of you, only to be greeted by Donghyuck’s wide eyes that were shooting daggers at him. “Me.” 

Jeno giggled nervously, finally realizing the gravity of his actions. Renjun’s lips turned into a thin line, fighting his smile but he eventually gave up as he realized that his friend’s genuine friendliness can be a flaw. 

Jeno’s eyes caught a glimpse of your flustered state before making eye contact again with Donghyuck. “Oops.”

Donghyuck knew that his plan failed the moment Jeno mentioned Lucas’ name. Not wanting to waste his energy on his friend’s carelessness, he decided to roll with it. He hadn’t that much of a choice now, had he? Just like that, cupid Hyuck was back in action.

“Lucas Wong huh,” you whispered with a smile before facing Hyuck and punching his shoulder which earned a yelp from him. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew him?”

“You didn’t ask?” He rubbed his shoulder.  “Besides, I’m not that quite fond of him. I heard a bunch of rumors and-”

You punched his arm again before you reached out and gave Jeno the same punch.

His hand immediately went to his shoulder. “What was that for?”

“Liars! You told me that the two of you aren’t going to be part of the baseball team this year!” Your eyes squinted at Renjun, pointing at him accusingly who was bringing his papers out from his bag. “Don’t tell me you know about this Injun?”

If there was something that Renjun acquired from being a part of the university’s debate team, it’ll be his quick thinking skill and his impeccable power of persuasion. Without batting an eyelash as he gets busy with his paperworks, he answered. “No clue. Don’t know this Lucas guy and I don’t really care.”

He was lying. Of course he knew about Lucas because Donghyuck was always ranting about him almost everyday. Renjun found it hilarious how Donghyuck managed to find something to nitpick on Lucas. The guy was actually decent if you were to ask him. He used to train with Lucas in debate workshops during the summer break before he decided to quit. He joined the baseball varsity team, only to be the captain a year after. 

“Good,” whipping your phone out, you decided to search for Lucas on instagram. “You guys will die if I find out that you’ve been lying to my face.”

Renjun shook his head in disbelief, sliding his homework to Donghyuck. “When did we ever lie to you Y.N?”

“Just now. “You deadpanned.” 

Donghyuck peered to your phone as he slid back Renjun’s paper after he corrected some numbers. Just what he expected, you were already scrolling through Lucas’ instagram profile with a smile on your lips. He cleared his throat before snatching your phone.

“I heard a lot of things about this guy.” He tried to start again, stretching his arm to push the phone away from your reach, “I heard he’s a player.”

Throughout the past three years, Donghyuck has devised three easy steps. This was the foolproof plan which drove away the boys who tried to make a move on you. Tested and proven to be successful, he believed he mastered this art. 

Step one: I heard a rumor...

Of course Donghyuck went around to do a small background check on this guy the moment you told him. He was prepared.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up to grab your phone from him. “You always say that to every guy I like. I know what you’re doing.”

“I do?” Donghyuck chuckled in disbelief as he hid your phone behind his back. The apron was still tied to his waist.

“You do,” Jeno and Renjun answered in monotone, now preoccupied with their homeworks and review notes for their next class this afternoon to actually watch both of you play around. The boy beside you mumbled profanities under his breath before he held a finger in front of you, making you stop.

“He doesn’t do relationships. He’s down for a fling but once he feels that you’re starting to fall in love for real. Oh boy, he’ll leave you right away.” Donghyuck’s words didn’t faze your small crush on Lucas. Besides, what are rumors but baseless allegations, right? But there’s something in the way your best friend told you that made you doubt your image of Lucas.

Donghyuck’s eyes glinted in mischief the moment he saw you in deep thought, urging him to continue the first step of his plan. “Trust me, he used to date my classmate from international business agreements class. Poor her, bawling her eyes as we take the exam. They lasted for a month Y.N, a month!”

He was telling the truth though. Lucas used to date some of your batchmates. Donghyuck was just telling you the rumors that he heard circulating the university. That’s not being an asshole right? Besides, he just wanted to warn his best friend— at least that’s what he thought.

You slumped on your seat, glancing at the clock before mumbling under your breath. “Just give me back my phone please. It’s almost time for class.”

Donghyuck smiled in triumph as he returned your phone, ruffling your hair. “It’s near our building. Renjun and I will walk you there. Hm?”

“I don’t really have much of a choice.” You chuckled the moment Donghyuck’s apron caught your eye. “Do you really plan to go to class with an apron Hyuckie? C’mere,” 

He happily obliged as he showed you his back. His hand tightened his maroon necktie before wearing his black suit jacket once the apron was off. Renjun fixed his maroon necktie as well. His brows knitted in confusion as he tried to redo his answer on the paper. He finally huffed, standing up as he grabbed his black suit jacket. He stretched for a while. 

Jeno on the other hand neatly packed his study materials back to his Herschel backpack, straightening his white uniform as he finally got out of his seat.

You checked your reflection in the mirror as the four of you went to the counter to bid Mama Lee goodbye. Renjun was too fixated with his homework to actually notice his rolled up sleeve. You decided to fix it for him.

Donghyuck repetitively rang the counter bell. “Ma, we’re going already.”

Mama Lee wiped her hands on a hand towel as she got out of the kitchen. She groaned at his son who was playing around. “Oh stop it, will you?”

Her son walked beside her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Mama Lee couldn’t help but grin as Donghyuck gave her a big fat kiss on the cheek. If there’s one thing that you love about Donghyuck despite being a stubborn jerk, it was his loving and caring ass. He became someone you can lean on, a shoulder for you to cry on and a hand that holds your hand wherever you go. Donghyuck felt like home to you.

“Anyways,” Mama Lee hugged her son back. They both share the same eyes and smile, warm like the sun. “I’ll be going home early this Friday. I know you have the usual baseball practice ‘till 9pm just don’t stay out too late okay?”

Your hand let go of Renjun’s white sleeves as you stare at them in disbelief. “You have baseball practice every Friday?”

“No,” Donghyuck shook his head in panic, looking at his mother’s eyes.  “Ma, I think you’re confused. Renjun is the one who has a 9pm debate practice every Friday. Not me,”

“Oh dear, really?” The old lady looked taken aback. “But you and Jeno-”

“Coach has cancelled all our practices. Dunno when we’ll start training again.” Jeno decided to come up with an alibi just to make it up to Donghyuck. His heartbeat quickened but only to breathe a sigh of relief once Mama Lee chuckled.

“I must be getting old. Now,” she patted Donghyuck’s cheek before she pushed him out of the counter, “off to your class little rascal.”

You giggled at the nickname, shooting her a flying kiss as the four of you walked out of the door. “Thank you for the food Mama Lee!” 

“A pleasure dearie! Say hello to your mom for me!” 

A content smile was plastered on your lips, walking to your next class. Jeno waved goodbye before he crossed the street since the nursing building was on the other side of the campus, leaving you in the middle of the two business students. 

“Race to that tree. Loser buys everyone ice cream later!” You were about to open your mouth to scold Renjun and his childish antics but he went running away already. You saw Donghyuck shook his head beside you.

“What are we, kids?” He snickered in disgust before he bolted, in an attempt to catch up with Renjun. “Foul! You lil shit, that’s a head start!”    

You sprinted towards the tree while laughing. For that moment, you forgot about Lucas and how something was fishy about Jeno and Donghyuck’s baseball training schedule. You wanted to ask them about their training just to, you know, get a glimpse of Lucas Wong. Come on, it’s just a stupid little crush. It’s not like you’re going to catch his eye or something.

* * *

The whole week was already over before you knew it. Your tired heavy legs managed to get you to Mama Lee’s cafe alone. Renjun had his usual debate training while Jeno said that he would be studying with his classmates in the nearby McDonalds. Donghyuck on the other hand, told you that he would be on duty right now so he couldn’t hang out at your house tonight. He said that he would be working because he promised his mom that he would take over. So it was a surprise when you saw Mama Lee’s familiar back closing the store with no trace of Donghyuck.

“Mama Lee?” 

Her head turned to you, greeting you with a smile before she pulled you into an embrace. You curiously looked over her shoulder. “Where’s Hyuckie? He told me that he’ll be working tonight’s shift.”     

She waved her hand in front of you whilst laughing. “Donghyuck, that little rascal really is something else. It turns out, I was right all along.”

“Right about what?”

“Him and Jeno having baseball training!” Mama Lee squealed as she put the store keys inside her bag. “He texted me that he was joking before. That boy really made me question my memory. Jeno even played along. What are they up…”

The fact that they have been lying to your face that entire time made you annoyed. You hated it. The fact that they hid and didn’t even tell you that they got in the baseball team made you more pissed. With a tight smile, you waved goodbye to Mama Lee.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” you stopped in your tracks as she handed you Donghyuck’s neon green sports bottle. “Be a dear and give this to Hyuck. He always seems to forget his bottle every training.”  

Your fatigue wore off the moment you started marching angrily towards the baseball field. It was quite a walk but you could care less. Your fist tightly clenched on the bottle. The sun was starting to set. The large LED lights started to illuminate the wide baseball field, making it easier to find your two friends.

You were very much on time. The whole baseball team was hanging out on the bleachers. Donghyuck’s last name printed behind his back in dark bold letters along with his jersey number 66. The white striped baseball uniform made his lean legs more elongated. His body shook in laughter as he laughed along with his teammates. Jeno was nowhere to be found as you stormed towards them.

“Hey sixty-six!” You shouted at the top of your lungs, just a few feet away from them. Donghyuck has never whipped his head that fast. He gulped before chuckling nervously  as you came face to face with him. “Your mom told me to give this to you.” 

Out of anger, you shove his water bottle to his chest. Donghyuck staggered backwards, smiling sheepishly. The whole baseball team wolf whistled, obviously enjoying the whole drama unfolding right before their eyes. 

“Hello Y.N!” Mark Lee, who you often see in Donghyuck’s band practice because he plays the electric guitar waved at you excitedly. Not knowing what was happening since he just got there, Mark tried to walk towards you only to be dragged by his teammate to the bleachers who shot the both of you an apologetic look.

“Look I’m sorry, okay?” Donghyuck tried to reach out to you but you avoided his hands as if they were the plague. He pouted, trying to hug you. 

“Sorry your ass,” you swatted his hands away. “You and Jeno have been keeping a lot of things from me. The fact that I get to know the truth through other people makes me so mad. You know how pathetic that feels?” 

“I know, I know and I’m really sorry. I promise I won’t do it again.” Donghyuck gave you a sincere look as he stood in front of you. You crossed your arms. He found you really cute, especially when you’re angry. Donghyuck gave you a charming smile only to last for a while before you rolled your eyes at him, walking towards the bleachers where his teammates are eagerly watching the both of you. 

Donghyuck tugged your canvas bag, making you turn to him. “What can I do to make it up to you then?” 

You slowly smiled. “No more lying and,”

“And?” He urged you to continue. “Say it and I’ll do it Y.N. You have my word.”

“I get to watch your training and official matches!” You squealed, anger subsiding as you finally have the upper hand.

A groan left his mouth as he followed you to the bleachers. “Anything but that!”

Your eyes stared directly at him from where you were seated. Donghyuck squirmed in front of you. You leaned closer to him. His familiar cologne filled your senses. “Does Mark Lee know?”

“Know what?” He whispered, completely intrigued.

“That you were the one who broke the strings of his precious electric guitar last band prac-”

“Okay! Geez, okay!” Donghyuck’s sudden outburst gathered the whole team’s attention. Even Mark, who made eye contact with him. He gave everyone a sheepish smile before facing your smirking face. “You won this time Y.N”

“It’s called a hustle sweetie. I learned it from you.” You gave him a teasing kissy face in which he playfully rolled his eyes at. “Wait, where’s Jeno?”

Donghyuck jogged towards his teammates inside the field, leaving you with his sports bottle. “He went with uh, the captain to grab the baseball bats and gloves from the sports room. Gotta go!”

You nodded, making yourself comfortable in your seat. It was night time already. If it wasn’t for the field’s LED lights, you won’t be able to figure out who’s who inside the field. They were starting their usual warm up routine when you felt a warm hand tapping your shoulder.

“Excuse me,” you looked up, smiling at the stranger. He was wearing a dark blue polo from the engineering department. He ran his hand through his black hair before grinning at you. You must admit, this guy has a cute smile. 

“Is this seat taken?” His hand pointed to the seat beside you. “Are you taken? ‘Cause my friend is not taken yet.”

“By you,” The guy mumbled under his breath quietly. 

You chuckled in amusement, only getting the first part because he was talking so fast. His sudden request made you stare at him in fascination. There was no people sitting in the bleachers except you. Why would he even want to sit right beside you? Not wanting to be rude, you answered him with a smile. “You can sit beside me if you want. I’m watching my friends’ training.”

“Me too!” The raven haired boy sat beside you. “I’m Hendery by the way.”

��Y.N” You answered as your eyes watched Jeno jogging back to his teammates. “So Hendery, who are you with?”

He squinted his eyes, searching for his friend. “I don’t think he’s there yet but he’s jersey number one. How about you?”

“Number sixty-six and twenty-three.” You beamed proudly at him. 

Hendery pointed at someone in front with a grin. “Oh here he is!”    

Your mouth turned dry as you came face to face with the one and only, Lucas fucking Wong. You knew that you were bound to meet again just not this sooner. He was busy tucking his shirt in his white baseball trousers to actually notice that his friend had company.

“Can you hold on to my watch for awhile?” Lucas looked up, throwing his Rolex to Hendery beside you. He shyly smiled as he saw you. “Hi.”

You breathed out, cursing yourself for not dressing up more nicely. “Hi.”

Hendery caught his friend’s watch. Lucas chuckled to himself, scratching his nape in a shy manner. “I remember you. You’re...” 

Everything happened so fast. You didn’t get to hear what Lucas was saying when the ball went flying to your face. Out of reflex, you ducked but that didn’t save you from catastrophe. Your whole body lost balance as you slid down the metal bleachers. It all happened so fast that Hendery was too late to grab you from falling down. 

The next thing you knew, the whole baseball team hovered above you as your eyes slowly fluttered opened. The fall didn’t make your head spin. It was Lucas’ intoxicating cologne along with his large hands shaking your shoulders lightly. His face was just inches away from you as he called out your name. Whoever threw that ball was both a blessing and a curse.

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@nct-writers​

[hearteyesbowen]

Idk if anyone has asked you this but I was watching josh’s live yesterday and all the faces he makes when he sings are adorable anyways I was wondering if you could write something where he doesn’t like the faces that he makes and he gets self conscious about them but you reassure him that they are cute and that you adore the faces he makes.

livestream ☆ joshua bassett

joshua finally lets y/n stay with him while he does a livestream, but she tends to distract him without her even knowing it

warnings: fluff, shorter than what i usually write

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Please, Josh, I promise I won’t do anything bad.”

“No, because I’m going to be in the middle of talking to my fans or singing a song and then you’re going to do something that catches my attention and suddenly I have to explain to everyone who I’m looking at, again.” Josh argued.

You pouted, slouching on his soft bed. You reached for Franklin, his teddy bear, and cuddled it close to you as you plopped back on the bed. You sighed loudly, making sure to let him know your despair.

Josh watched you overreact on the blankets he left messy on the mattress. He was sat at the same chair in front of his desk that he always sat at when he does live videos. He thought you looked adorable at how you begged to be with him.

He remembered the first time he allowed you to stay with him during a live video. You were on his bed and admiring him from far away as he sung. Every time he sang a song or engaged with his fans, you could tell how happy he was. After he sang a Bruno Mars song, you felt giddy inside, so you silently clapped your hands together as to not make a sound. Josh noticed you and blushed while he stared at you. This erupted thousands of comments on both his live and his Instagram posts about who he was with and if he had a girlfriend. Of course, he didn’t get mad at you, but it was hard to convince everyone that it wasn’t you and only a friend, since you were often questioned on social media if you were Josh’s “mystery girl.” It’s also why you were not allowed to be with him anymore during his livestreams, just to be sure he wouldn’t have to do any other clarifying.

As for your relationship with each other, it was somewhat complicated. You both knew you have some sort of feelings for each other. You went on a couple of dates, a lot of them staying over at one’s house and watching movies. Neither of you had made anything official, your guess was that he wanted to take things slow. However, it didn’t dawn upon you how slow he liked to be.

You sat up and gently placed Franklin on his pillow before you stood up and walked over to Josh. He raised his eyebrows at you, wondering what you were about to do. You motioned for him to move his hands from his lap so you could sit. Once he held his hands up, you sat down on his lap and held your arms around his neck while he held you at your waist.

“Please?” You begged one last time, taking off the hat he wore under his hoodie and throwing it on the wooden surface next to him.

Finally, Josh groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can stay in my room, but no distractions.”

You smiled widely, tightening your arms around him for a hug. You heard a small laugh escape his lips as you stuffed your face into his neck. You pulled away and took a glimpse at his red lips, noticing how much softer they looked today. The room was silent, as if everything stopped. You gazed at each other for what seemed like years, just you two. All you could think of was how nice it would be to have your lips on his, holding onto his body tightly.

As if he read your mind, Josh slowly leaned up, hesitantly reaching for your lips. You both tried inching closer, but it was clear how nervous you were. Your lips were still somewhat far, but it didn’t stop the anxiousness you felt the more the space between you closed. You had never kissed anyone yet, so the feeling you felt as his breath fanned over your lips sent shivers down your spine.

The alarm on Josh’s phone went off, making you both jump slightly. You tapped the screen to check the time, seeing it was only five minutes before he said he would go live.

You turned back to him and patted his chest. “You should get ready.”

Josh sat there, silently frustrated at himself for not making the move. You stood up and threw yourself on his bed, reflecting on the past two minutes that you could have changed.

➢➣ ➢➣

Halfway through Josh’s livestream, you stopped paying attention to him. You loved listening to him and sing, you could listen to him forever, but the memory of your possible first kiss engulfed your brain every time you even heard his voice.

Now you were lying down on your back, holding your phone up high above your head with your headphones plugged into your ears as you blocked out Josh’s voice as best as you could. Usually his livestreams don’t last too long, but it felt like it’s been an hour already.

Clearly you were lost into thought, too busy scrolling through Twitter, that you didn’t even notice when the mattress sank down by your legs. Josh crawled over the bed, resting his hands on either side of your head and his knees between yours. Soon your screen was covered when a curly-haired boy shoved his head between your arms, forcing you to wrap your hands around his head. His face expressed worry the more you stared at him without talking.

“You’re less talkative than you usually are, what happened?” Josh wondered.

You shrugged, not letting out a single noise. He huffed, lightly blowing some of the curls away from his head, and plopped himself down next to you on his bed. You let him rest his head on your arm once he went to cuddle your torso, leaving your other hand to mess with your own hair. Instantly, the warmth of his body clutching yours overcame the uneasy feelings you had earlier.

“What were you looking at?”

Josh took your phone from the other side of your hip and tapped in the passcode, the day of your first date. The Twitter app opened, showing your timeline of tweets from the people you followed.

“Some of your fans are already posting screenshots from your live.” You murmured as you see the first screen recording of Josh.

A silent groan escaped his lips the more he watched the clip. He sang “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur, one of your favorite songs. You giggled as you watch him struggle hitting the lower notes, scrunching up his nose and his repeated use of the word “yikes.”

Josh had enough of watching that clip and exited the app. He went to the Instagram app and typed in his username, then going to his tags. Numerous screen recordings and photos of his livestream were being posted by the minute. Curious, he tapped the most recent one of him singing yet another song.

You stopped paying attention to the video, now only watching his face in disgust as he watched himself. You pouted, using your free hand to remove your phone away from his grasp and pushed aside some of the hair still framing his forehead.

“What ails you, dear?” You ask, holding back a laugh from your choice of words.

He raised an eyebrow at you, grinning for a second before sighing. “I make the stupidest faces when I sing.”

You pushed yourself up, using your arm to hold you up. Josh still lying down, he covered his face with his hands.

“Why do you think that?”

“Look at me!” He reached for your phone and quickly finding a clip to show you. “Why do I look like that?”

“I think it’s cute.” You argue, pushing his hands off his head.

Josh grumbled, almost ripping out the locks of his hair. “But I feel like I look like an idiot. I’m always making those dumb faces, like I can’t even sing normally. I hate seeing myself sing because then I just get self-conscious.”

“Joshua, you’re being so overdramatic. You look perfectly fine. If anything, your fans love the cute little movements you make.” You reassure.

He studied your face for any hints of deceit. You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks the more he watched you.

Josh finally sat up, your faces now inches apart. The tingling feeling you felt in your stomach a while ago came back. His fingers crept onto your cheek, pushing aside some of the hair by your eyebrow.

“You shouldn’t have to feel insecure about how you look, Josh. You’re literally the cutest guy in the world.”

Your whisper set off a sudden new confidence in him, something that he had been trying to discover since your first date.

“I am?” He wondered with little bits of disbelief from your comment.

The tips of your noses touched, and you hitched your breath. This has been the closest you two have ever gotten. You were not going to chicken out of this one, not again, at least.

You pushed your lips onto his, leaving a short peck on his lips. The new feeling of someone kissing someone set fire to your body. Once you pulled away, your eyes grew wide at Josh’s surprised expression. His mouth was slightly agape, eyes still wide open.

The corners of his lips curved upwards, forming his familiar smile. “Why’d you pull back?”

That phrase barely left you enough time to think about what just happened, as Josh crashed his lips back to yours. Your eyes widened at his sudden move, but you soon relaxed as the feeling of his lips on yours became more important than anything.

You reached up behind his head and clutched his hair, making Josh let out a soft moan. His hands snaked your waist as he pushed you back down on the bed, hovering over you again.

It wasn’t the most experienced kiss at first, but you quickly found your way. Nothing between you two has ever felt more passionate. Your lips moved slowly, still captivated by the thought of you being with each other.

Josh pulled away, lingering one last kiss on your swollen lips. Your eyes blissfully fluttered open, soon looking up at his red, smiling face.

“If I knew that talking about my insecurities meant you would finally kiss me, I would have done it much sooner.” He joked, reaching down to capture your lips on his once more.

A/N - sorry this is short and late i was finishing up with some online school work but now im on spring break so hopefully i can get another post this saturday !! also another sorry for the person who requested this , i was trying to finish my other drafts before i started requests , i hope u like it (: next post is the second part to twenty-dollar baby so be on the lookout <3 love y’all xx

[fixxofvixx]

BLOODRIGHT - Vampire Taekwoon AU - Chapter Eighteen

Hello my valentines!! My weekend has been crazy so far with my greeting card job! I think it's been busier than Christmas! I would like to wish all of my beautiful readers a Happy Valentine's Day!

I hope you enjoy the chapter and lemme know what you think!💖💖💖💖

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Taekwoon picked up his cell phone and dialed a number that he hadn't in years.  He wasn't even sure if the number still worked.  The line picked up right after the first ring.

"Taekwoon, I never dreamed that you would ring me first.  I suppose that donor has some influence over her master after all."  Kaxon’s all too familiar voice now sounded sarcastic and calculating.  It no longer held any of its previous warmth and sensibility.  The change instantly irritated Taekwoon.

"Cut the bullshit, Kaxon, and tell me what you want."

"Well....in the simplest of terms, I would like to borrow your donor."

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

Taekwoon's mood became darker and his body turned stiff.

"Did you think I would just readily agree to that?  Whatever you're planning, I would suggest that you rethink it right now.  You won't come near her.  Hell, I don't even want her to be on the same planet as you.  So try anything with her and I will make sure Khan becomes an only child."

"You're always so quick to threaten lives.  You won't even let me explain why?"  Taekwoon could hear the amusement in Kaxon's voice and he hated it.

"Does that even deserve an answer?  You knew I would refuse so why do I need to know what you're planning?"

"Because it could benefit you as well.  If you would only allow me some time with her then I--"

Taekwoon ended the call and had to stop himself from launching the phone at the wall.  A few moments later, the phone rang again. He pressed the answer button and yelled into the phone.

"Lose this number, asshole.  You can't have her, you son of a bitch.  Do you understand me?!"

"Jung Taekwoon, how dare you talk to your mother like that!  What in the world?"  Taekwoon jumped at the sound of his mother's voice and took the phone from his ear to check the caller ID.  Sure enough, his mother's number was on the screen.

"Mom.....I...I'm sorry."  Taekwoon collapsed into the chair behind him and ran his hand through his hair.  "I thought you were someone else.  I didn't look at the caller ID."

"Tell me what's happened, dear.  Is y/n alright?"

Taekwoon told his mother everything that had happened with Kaxon in the past couple of days.

"Just the thought of her being near that asshole pisses me off.  I'll kill him before he lays a hand on her."

"I know you will protect her well, sweetheart.  Just remember not to let your anger overrule your good judgment.  He's smarter than Khan and very slippery.  Call me immediately if you need any help."

"I will, Mom, thank you.  I'm sorry, I didn't ask what you had called for.  Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything is fine, sweetie.  I only called to check in on y/n.  How is she?"

"She's sleeping.  She had to go through all of that with the wreck and finding me then I ended up having to feed because I was too weak to heal properly.  Mom....I....."

"What is it, Taekwoon."

"Am I putting her in too much danger?  You don't think....she'll resent me for it, do you?"

"Oh my dear sweet boy, you are so head over heels for her, aren't you?"  Taekwoon just groaned and his mother laughed. "Taekwoon, stop worrying so much.  She likes you, I know that and you know that.  But if you have concerns, it won't make any difference if you ask me.  You need to ask her instead.  Don't keep things from her.  She's a strong woman, she can handle it."

"Thanks Mom." 

Taekwoon talked for a few more minutes before he heard y/n's heartbeat change rhythm.  He hung up from his mother and headed back to his room.  It only took him a second or two to climb the stairs and open the door.  His eyebrows furrowed when he saw you.  

You had kicked the covers off and you were sweating.  Somehow, you had taken off the pants you had been wearing.  He was too concerned to be distracted by your lack of clothing.  He thought that maybe you were too warm but then he saw your face.  You were restless but something else was wrong.  He didn’t think it was a nightmare but your vitals were way off.  When he reached the bed, he touched your face to find it covered in a cold sweat.  You jolted awake and raised your half-opened eyes to Taekwoon’s face.  

"Taekwoon?"

"Yes, love, it's me.  Are you alright?  I heard your heartbeat change and thought you'd be awake.  When I came in it looked like you were having trouble sleeping.  You feel as though you have a cold sweat.  Do you feel sick?"

"I don't know.  I don’t really feel all that great but it's probably from the loss of blood."  You raised up and rubbed your face a bit to chase away the sleep.  A short wave of dizziness hit you but you tried to ignore it. 

When you opened your eyes, you realized that your pants were gone.  You gasped loudly and desperately reached for the blanket to cover yourself. 

"Where are my pants?!"

 

Taekwoon chuckled and looked around the room.  He finally spotted a crumpled piece of clothing on the floor at the end of the bed.

"I assure you, I did not remove them myself.  I have been downstairs talking to my mother on the phone, I promise." Taekwoon chuckled and raised his hands in surrender.  You ran a hand through your hair and rubbed your eyes.

"No....I didn't mean to imply that you had done anything.  I know you wouldn't do that.  I had a habit of sleeping like this in my old apartment and I guess I wasn't thinking."

"I'm not one to tell you what you can and can't do.  If you're more comfortable this way, then I suppose I can allow it."  Taekwoon winked and your cheeks turned a nice shade of pink.  "In fact, if you ever feel too tired, I would be happy to help you with any removal of clothing."

"Taekwoon!"

Taekwoon laughed heartily at your obvious panic.  You put your head in your hands and tried to hide your embarrassment.

"I'm just joking, y/n."  He tried to get you to raise your head but you refused.  He pulled the hair away from your neck and leaned down to place a kiss on the nape of your neck.  You jumped at the contact and lifted your head to look at him.

"W-What are you doing?"  

"Kissing you.....I can't?"

"No, I didn't say that.  You know I don't mind.  I was just surprised, is all.  What did you talk about with your mom?"  He didn’t need to know you wouldn’t have minded if he continued.

"You."

"M-Me?  Why?"

"She just wanted to ask about how you were doing.  I explained about what happened with Kaxon and...."  He hesitated explaining further and looked deep in thought.  You placed your hand over his and he looked at you. 

"And?"

"And I asked her if she thought you would resent me for putting you in so much danger."

"Taekwoon, do you really use that brain of yours?  Why would I blame you for the actions of others?  If we're keeping track, you've been injured more than I have with all of this."

“My injuries don’t matter.  What matters is that I am supposed to protect you and so far….I don’t think I’ve done a very good job of that.  I don’t want you to regret your decision to be my donor.  Now that Kaxon has come into the picture, I’m worried about what he has planned."

"It won't do any good to sit and worry about what might happen.  All we can do is prepare the best way we can and just be cautious."

"I talked to him on the phone earlier, before I spoke with my mother."

"You did?  Why?"

"I called him.  My temper got the best of me and I asked what he wanted."

"So what does he want?"

"What do you think?"  You furrowed your brows for only a second before you realized what he was implying.  Kaxon wanted something with you.

"Do those two brothers have a one-track mind?"

"Their whole family is like that.  But I'll figure out what he wants.  He can't get in but I don't want you to feel locked up in here.”  He thought for a moment and then smiled.  “Should we go somewhere?"

"Where?"

"Anywhere you want.  Once you're feeling better, we can plan something if you want to."

"That sounds good."

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

Four days later and your condition hadn't improved.  You had taken the pills Taekwoon's mother had given you but they didn't help.  You felt so drained and could barely get up to go to the bathroom.  Taekwoon brought meals to you but you had a hard time keeping an appetite.  

Taekwoon's mother was arriving today to see if she could help.  Taekwoon was currently trying to talk her out of it on the phone.

"Mother, you don't have to make the trip.  It might not even have anything to do with her blood.  She's running a slight fever and feels tired and achy so she might just be coming down with something."

"I don't care.  I need to see her for myself.  I called the family doctor in and he'll meet me there.  Make sure we don't spontaneously combust once we reach your gate!"  His mother hung up and Taekwoon sighed.

"I'm sorry, love, I tried to talk her out of it."

"That's alright.  It's nice, actually, to feel what it's like to be taken care of by a parent."  

"Don't let my mother hear you say that.  She'll start planning balls and tea parties right away."

You laughed and started to ask about the kind of parties he'd had when his phone rang again.  Taekwoon lifted the phone to check the caller ID and a curse escaped his mouth. 

"Who is it?"

"Kaxon.  He keeps calling but I'm not--"

"Answer it."

"But--"

"We can't figure out what he wants if we don't talk to him.  We need to know."  Taekwoon nodded and sat down next to you on the bed.  He answered the phone and immediately turned on the speaker so you could hear as well.

"What do you want?"

"Taekwoon, my old buddy, why is it so hard to get you on the telephone?"

"Because I don't want to talk to you."

"Ouch.  You really should get rid of that anger.  It will eat you up inside."

"Get to the point, Kaxon."

"She's not feeling well, is she?"

[darksapphire29]

Imagine #1

You're an Evo and you read Tommy Clark's mind, finding out he's one, too.

Warnings: insecure reader, Tommy is so sweet, fluff

I rushed down the corridor, brushing shoulders with practically every person I passed. My brain surged with an unholy fire, and I knew the voices clanging against my skull were not my own. I tried to shut them out, building a Great Wall of my own to protect me from their whispers. I failed.

My knees wobbled, and I barely registered the bodies that hit me as I hurried to my locker. The bell will ring any moment, now, and if anyone thought I was in hell already-they were severely wrong. My feet carried me to my belongings hidden behind the small metal door. I reached for the lock, but stopped myself. This was the worst part of being me. I could hear thoughts through touch, but when I touch objects...

Dear reader, did you know objects have memories, too? Because I didn't, either. But now, as I opened my locker, images of a boy being shoved against that very metal box flooded my senses, and I recoiled. That wasn't just any boy, that was my boyfriend, Tommy. 

"Hey, are you okay?" I jumped at the familiar voice, and there stood the very person I just saw in my 'vision'. I avoided his green eyes, while he tried to search my own (e/c) ones. I wished Brad wouldn't pick on him so much. Tommy had such a beautiful soul, he deserved so much better.

"Uh, yeah. The static from my jumper; it zapped me." I laughed, gesturing to the brown, woollen thing tied around my waist. He smiled along with me. I noticed something dark and blue around his eye. I clenched my fists.

He turned back to gather his things, and I roughly gathered my books for History and Forensic Science. I pressed my body against the lockers and tried not to let anyone touch me. Tommy kept glancing in my direction, and I figured I looked strange.

"Are you sure—"

"What class do you have next?" I asked suddenly. I closed my locker with the tip of my pinkie, cringing away from the picture of a couple making out, and looked at him.

"History, then Forensic. Same as you." Just on que, a shrill ring sounded down the hall, and I thanked the heavens for an excuse to escape. I hated my power. I hated especially that I had to keep it from my boyfriend.

"Right, well, let's go."

The hall was completely filled with students, all of them pushing through in their hurry to get somewhere. Not one inch of the floor was uncovered; my head was sure to explode. More often then I'd like to admit, I walked right into someone so I wouldn't touch Tommy. I didn't care about some ninth-grader's step-dad, and I refused to invade my boyfriend’s mind. 

We walked in silence, my arms folded over my chest, and I continued to keep my distance. If Tommy noticed, he didn't show it.

By the time we joined the line outside door 16-B, Tommy and I were two of the only people still walking around. Two idiots at the front were arguing over something I didn't care to listen to. There were yelling and cursing and spitting in each other's faces. Then, the dirty-blonde footballer named Brad shoved tall and skinny Andrew into Tommy, and I caught his arm before he fell too far. I wasn't even thinking, and I pushed him off me like he was dirt.

Don't use your power. The thought echoed in my brain. But it wasn't mine, it was Tommy's.

My heart jolted. His power? Was he an Evo?

~Time skip~

All of yesterday, all I could think about was Tommy and his peculiar thought. He would smile at me when I spaced out, having no clue that I knew. Walking through the hall to lunch, Tommy had taken my hand. Usually, I would push him away. But I didn’t. And I knew about all of it. His struggle, moving so often the places fused together in his mind. He kept changing his name until he forgot his real one. 

I thought it over as I walked outside with Tommy. He was so kind to everyone, his eyes soft and with a heart of gold. No one would’ve known he’d have gone through so much. And they definitely wouldn’t have suspected he was a “dangerous” Evo. He felt so alone, even when he was with me. He wanted so bad to be with people like him. So, with this knew confidence, I was going to tell him.

I knew I wasn’t exactly like him. He could zap things and people to other places. Mine were an invasion of space. I realised he could hate me for listening to his thoughts, as I had been doing lately. He could be disgusted by it. And if he saw me that way, looked at me with that hatred in his eyes... I couldn’t bare to think about it. But I would tell him anyway. He needed someone to confide in about more than school and bullies. I needed to be more than his girlfriend. I needed to be his best friend, too.

"Tommy," I looked over at him, and he was already searching my eyes. My heart skipped a beat. Did I mention he's adorable?

"What's up?" He slipped his hand into mine, and—once again—I held onto it. He rose a brow.

"I need to... tell you something." Panic and worry flooded my senses, then it was replaced with concern. It was Tommy, I felt, and as much as I wanted to, I didn't pull away.

"I'm listening." His eyes were soft, and a slight curiosity mixed in with his fear.

"Not here, at my house."

I pulled him over to my side of the street, and we hurried along the sidewalk. I focused on his feelings instead of his thoughts, but a few words slithered in, anyway. 

...something wrong? ...acting strange... Does she... what happened? Evo... see something... Why... ...know about me?

I unlocked my door and we stepped inside, Tommy closing it behind me. Luckily, my parents weren't home, so I could at least prepare myself for their fury. I wasn't allowed to tell anyone. Not even other Evos.

"If I told you something that could..." I took a shaky breath, and I was overwhelmed with more concern than I thought one could feel. "Ruin our relationship, promise you won't hate me?"

Tommy shook his head. "Nothing could make me hate you, (y/n)." I nodded slowly. This was it.

"I'm an Evo."

The silence that stretched on was terrifying. Emotions flooded in one after the other and I hardly registered what they meant. I squeezed his hand tighter, and he finally met my eyes. But he didn't say anything.

"Tommy, talk to me." He pulled his hand out of mine, and my heart broke a little.

Then, I was pulled into his chest. He wrapped his arms around my frame, and laughed. It was a happy laugh, and he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. I felt it, too.

"You're like me!" He pulled back, hands resting on my shoulders, beaming. "Is this why you've been so distant lately? You wanted to tell me?" My smile faded. Of course he had noticed. He's my best friend, my only friend. How could he not see my reluctance to be around him?

"Yeah, I-I mean no. Sort of." He tilted his head and furrowed his brows. I didn't need to be an Evo to know he was confused. "It's my ability. I didn't want to hurt you..."

"(y/n), I know you. You would never hurt me or anyone. You wouldn't stand for it." His smile was sweet, and his heart was true. But there was also a trace of doubt.

She could be dangerous.

"I'm not dangerous, Tommy, I promise." His eyes widened. "I wouldn't have physically hurt you. That's not how I work. But I didn't want to hurt your feelings. Bruise your soul..." Tommy removed his palms from my shoulders, and I felt almost empty. All I felt was me, and it should've felt right, but it was far from it. "The mind... it's a private place, and I can invade it whenever I want. My power is cruel."

I expected him to run, hit his chest and disappear. Instead, he did something most unexpected.

He kissed me.

It was slow, cautious. His lips were soft, and his heart poured out into mine. Opening himself up to me like nothing mattered. Nothing but us and this small moment. He rested his forehead to mine, his forest eyes looking at me in a way he'd never looked at anybody else before.

Anybody else besides me.

“(y/n), you don’t have to be ashamed.” He whispered, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You’re beautiful, mind-reading powers and all.” Tommy laughed softly, and I smiled wide. 

“I love you.” I admitted, a blush creeping across my cheeks. Tommy beamed, his eyes twinkling.

“I love you, too.”

[jjba-hell]

Take of Epitheus

So this is the second half of my most recent piece. Context for reader’s relations and abilities were stated here- you can read the pieces separately (but I’d appreciate if you read them together UwU)

Prompt chosen was: Happy ending because a happy ending for us would have just been if our faves could LIVE

Triggers: mention of death, caring and rehabilitation of extreme bodily trauma (I guess you could put that under gore?) dark yet hopeful

@giogio-gucci-gangstar @risottoneroo @lasquadraweek2020​ @junosartsthetic​ 

2,5K words, gender neutral reader- good luck

“Will you please stop being a crybaby and let me take off the bandages already?”

You were busy finicking with Formaggio’s bandaged chest- the burns he had gotten over most of his body needed intensive care but he whined about it every step of the way.

“Hey hey! Come on, be gentle with me!”

Your gaze shot up to meet his cringing face. “I AM GENTLE!”

You moved quicker- opting to rip off the stained gauze from the burn ointment that peeled off the burnt skin with a sticky squelch.

“Would you rather have Melone do it?” You grumbled, more to yourself but he grabbed your wrist.

“No! Please no, you at least listen when I whine- he just ignores me.” In his eyes you could actually imagine seeing some form of desperate pleading so you sighed, continuing to gently remove the rest of the gauze.

“Can I put the air conditioning on for you while I prepare the soak?”

He looked so ashamed of himself as he nodded, you couldn’t help but feel a scrap of sympathy for him.

Now that everything was over with the Boss’s take down, you were left having to rehabilitate your team back to functioning people. Your stand could only heal so much- mostly keeping their souls attached to their bodies- but the physical healing you had to do yourself.

Formaggio could at least stand up and lead himself to the bath you had prepared for him but some of the others weren’t so lucky. Prosciutto took a particularly bitter hit at his pride with his busted right leg which you had no choice but to amputate so getting him clean was a particularly tense event you deeply dreaded.

You advised Formaggio to take his time in the bathroom as you changed the bedsheets but you knew he had limited mobility so you’d need to help him with his back.

Pesci wasn’t so lucky...he was in literal pieces, Illuso was still in the hospital you dumped him in while Melone was doing the research to find the cure for the disease still ravaging his system. Melone got off pretty well- you had recognized the snake that bit him and got him on anti-venom within a few minutes so he was back on his feet in a week- albeit a bit mute. Ghiacchio was holding on for dear life- you had replaced his windpipe but you’d be lucky if he wasn’t paralyzed from the neck down. Risotto was luckily just a few gunshot wounds heavier but they weren’t the only ones you had chained back to their bodies.

You slid down on the edge of the bath beside Formaggio to run some of the water over his back. His shoulders slumped. You understood why- they were all like this. They felt defeated- by their own sudden inability and you couldn’t reassure them that they were lucky enough to be alive, figuring you’d personally rather be dead than hanging on for dear life.

“You can help yourself right?”

He could only nod.

You got up and let him help himself, wrapping him back up in bandages and gauze before wrapping up the laundry and taking out the food from the freezer to thaw for his dinner. “Call me when you need me.”

Outside Formaggio’s apartment you popped the trunk of your car and tossed the second batch of laundry into the trunk. A few cars behind your own, another car door opened and out stepped a dirty blonde in a red suit.

You narrowed your eyes at him as he approached, suddenly noticing how young he was.

“What do you want, kid?”

You called back as he approached. The second he took a step too close to your liking you gave one back. “That’s close enough. What do you want?”

“You’re La Squadra’s healer, aren’t you?”

“What about it?”

“You saved some of my friends a few days ago.”

You couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow. “You worked under Bucciarati?”

“Yes- I do. Or rather, used to. Listen, I’ve been tracking you and this is the third time you’ve come here this week... what are you doing?”

You racked your brain for a second. Part of your stand’s ability- working with the chain that links soul to body allowed you to see some memories people held near the end of their lives.

The kid wrapped in flowers at the coliseum... that’s where you’ve seen his face before.

“Panacotta Fugo?” You guessed from the names you’d heard in the kid’s soul.

His eyes widened a bit. “Yes, how did you-“

“The kid I saved at the coliseum... you were in his memories. Could’ve sworn you were nowhere to be seen, though.”

At this point you were playing mind games with Fugo, you didn’t need more complications to your life.

“I’m trying to help you. You probably know Giorno-“

“That blonde kid that healed Abbachio.” Of course you were referencing the other man you had found on the beach after you helped Risotto.

“Yes, I‘ve come to understand that you’ve been working around the clock to heal your teammates. You can keep people alive but not heal them.” He seemed to be a bit annoyed by finding a new way to approach the subject he wanted to talk about without you changing the subject.

You leaned against the back door of your car. “Then you’ve also figured out why I didn’t come running to the new Don to heal my teammates.”

You refused to continue giving this kid more information so you popped the driver seat door open.

“Bucciarati owes you, as does Abbacchio, and Narancia. Surely that’s enough leverage for you to gain something out of the situation.” He said simply, trying to get closer which you answered with another step back.

You pondered the idea- thinking out loud. “Three wishes from the Don’s inner circle but nothing from the Don himself. Hmmmm.” You tapped your fingers against the roof of the car. “Still can’t figure out why YOU came to deliver this news.”

Fugo seemed to curl in on himself, casting his gaze down at the pavement beside him. “I’m grateful for you saving them when I was too much of a coward to even join them on their crusade. If it weren’t for you, half of them would be dead.”

“Hm. And what insurance do I have that this isn’t some kind of trap?”

Fugo’s gaze shot back up with shock in his eyes. “A trap? Why would you think this was a trap?”

You shrugged. “A traitorous group of skilled assassins? You’d be missing on a grand opportunity to weed out any dangers for the new Don.”

The realization dawned on Fugo’s face- it was clearly not something he had considered.

“Tell Bucciarati that I’ll be at Libechio’s tomorrow at noon for half an hour. I’ll bite from him.”

And with that you stepped into your car and left. You came to a final stop at Risotto’s apartment- trying to get the stubborn bastard to rest instead of trying to walk on his janky leg.

“You seem less patient.” He grumbled as you eventually plopped down on the couch with a groan.

“Yeah, I’m chewing through my own problems.”

He slid down in the seat across the living room from you. “Which would be...?”

“One of Bucciarati’s old underlings came to me- promising some shit about helping me.”

Risotto’s eyebrow shot up. “Help you with what?”

“Taking care of you guys, Ris. I can only heal you so much but the Don can actually fix you.”

“Why would he offer the help?”

You sighed- forgetting that you hadn’t told any of them about what you did after you got Risotto to safety.

“Because I offered mine. There’s three of them that got a new lease of life because of me.”

Risotto seemed to digest your words behind his curled up fist, propped up on his lap.

“I’m not stupid, Ris. I know how dangerous it is. So I figured I’ll talk to the ones that owe me, personally.”

He lifted his head a bit, frowning up at you. “And what would you ask the three of them?”

“Heal you guys fully, of course.”

“But three of them are indebted to you.”

It took you a moment to click what he was getting at.

“You’re implying I ask for three things.”

“You can finally leave the mafia.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. Was it really how far you’d come? Had you come full circle? Was it time for you to finally do what you’ve been dying to for years?

You’d soon find out as you sat down at your table at Libechio’s with a hot plate of food- a commodity you’d been refusing yourself since Formaggio got burnt.

You’d just finished when Bucciarati walked in, unaccompanied for once.

“You look good for someone who used to be half dead.” You commented as you slid back in your seat, leaning one arm over the backrest with a cup of coffee in your other hand.

“I have you to thank for that.” He smiled warmly, sliding into the seat across from you.

You swirled your coffee in your cup, trying to get the sweetener at the bottom to dissolve into the black liquid.

“You were a weird case- it’s not often the chain gets broken and someone latches themselves back on.”

Bucciarati laughed, folding his hands over each other on the table. “You make it sound like you helped me out of curiosity.”

“You think I did it out of kindness?”

He tipped his head to one side, as if he was trying to understand you. “Why else would you?”

Ah, the billion lire question. You didn’t know why you ran down the beach to grab hold onto Abbachio’s soul until his team mates came over. You didn’t know why your first reaction to Narancia’s soul floating out of his body was to grab hold and wait until it could return to its body. You didn’t know why you desperately begged Bucciarati to zip his soul back together. But it didn’t change the fact that you did and it was Diavolo’s who was sent into oblivion.

It couldn’t possibly have been because you were a good person. Were you banking on having these debts paid out? You certainly weren’t thinking it at the time.

“I don’t know, in all honesty. Suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Bucciarati’s tea arrived a few moments later and as he was adding the sugar he came forward with the reason for your meeting.

“As far as you probably know, my team and I are indebted to you but you are, understandably, mistrustful about the olive branch offered to you.”

You scoffed. “That’s an understatement, however I’ve come to offer collateral for our dealings.”

Bucciarati seemed to freeze in place, his teacup halfway to his mouth as you leaned in.

“And what would that be?”

“Simply reverting you back to your previous state. It’s as simple as that.”

Bruno placed his teacup back into its saucer with a serious look on his face. “May I ask you a question, y/n?”

You leaned forward with your arm on the table. “Of course.”

“What is it that you’ll be asking of us?”

You took a steady breath. You were unsure if you were going to indulge in this but it was do or die at this stage.

“For Abbachio’s life, I want my team healed completely- all damage inflicted on them needs to be reverted. I know what Giorno’s stand is capable of and I know he can heal them- even restore limbs as far as my understanding goes.”

Bruno only nodded. “Understood.”

“Second...” the words got caught in your throat but with a shaky determination you uttered the words. “I want to disappear. I want nothing to do with this gang, ever again. My existence, as far as any of you are concerned, is unknown.”

With a slight reluctance he nodded. “And your last request?”

“My team get the last request to do whatever they want. Weather that be to earn the Don’s loyalty or chicken out like me, the decision is theirs. And I expect you to respect it.”

Bruno met your gaze head on, before giving a heavy sigh. “Your requests seem fair. But you’ll have to ask Giorno yourself.”

You left Libechio with Bruno, sitting down in the back seat as Fugo drove you there- his eyes glancing up at the rear view mirror to yours every now and again.

“How old are you, Fugo?” You eventually asked. You could tell he was young but if he had just been on verging on 21 or 22, you weren’t sure.

“17.”

Your jaw dropped a bit at that formation. “Ah, life’s done you dirty you and you, Bruno?”

“Turning 21 in a few months.”

“Fuck. You’re infants.” You huffed as you leaned your elbow against the door.

“You’re not that much older than us.”

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh. “I passed 20 a long time ago. Back when things were much simpler.”

For a moment you rode in silence until you sat up and spoke to car as a whole. “Simply speaking as a coward and an unwilling participant in this bullshit, lemme ask- don’t you wish you were normal?”

You never did get an answer, not even a glance in the mirror from Fugo...

You didn’t say anything as you arrived at the villa, tiredly hauling yourself out of the car and following Bruno through the expansive hallways. You’d seen Giorno before- you knew he was young so you figured he and Fugo were the same age, or at least so you hoped- oh the team’s going to pop their stitches at hearing their ages.

You walked past Mista, the gunslinger that helped take down Ghiacchio, so you stopped in your tracks, turned to him and surveyed his face. “So that’s what you look like up close.”

Mista shrugged with a slight smile- was that... dare you say... personality?

He was about to open his mouth to say something to you but the baritone voice of Abbachio had you turning around to find him approaching you from a different hallway. “You know I never did catch your name.”

When you had held onto Abbachio’s soul on the beach, you had sensed some struggle within him- you recognized his story, understood what he was going through... but for men like him, coming back from the dead had two possible effects- either anger for refusing them the relief of death... or peace and clarity.

“You don’t need it. How’s life?” You smirked at him. He gestured for Mista to leave- which he did with a roll of his eyes so you and Leone were standing in the hallway alone.

“I wanted to ask you something... when I was dead, I saw things, people I’m pretty sure I would only have seen in the afterlife...”

“They’re real and chances were you were in the limbo between living and dead for the duration of the experience but I pulled you back.”

He glanced to the side, as if he was considering your words for a moment before nodding down the far end of the hallway where Bruno was standing, waiting for you. “He’s waiting.”

He spun around on his heel and walked away.

“Your friend really did forgive you, Abbachio. If you weren’t meant to come back I wouldn’t have been able to bring you back.” Was all you called back at him.

You walked past Bruno into the room Giorno was waiting, the door shutting behind you to leave you alone with the new Don, a bit on edge until his face emerged from the seat he was sitting in and you couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“So you’re the one I have to thank for my team’s survival.” He attempted to start the conversation.

You reached into your back pocket for your cigarettes and when you turned back to face him, his stand was at the ready.

“My my, no need to be on guard. I wasn’t part of the traitors.”

You brought a filter to your lips and walked towards the balcony, lighting the end without a word. “I’m guessing you’ve been briefed on my wishes?”

“I have- and I can agree to all of them.” He said as Golden Experienced de-materialized.

You hummed in content. Simply waiting for the ‘but’- it never came.

“No exceptions?”

“No, your requests are understandable and manageable. It’s you and your team’s motivations I wanted to know more on.”

You leaned against the balustrade of the balcony, tipping your head back to look up at the orange sky, painted by the setting sun.

“You mean why they were after Trish and Diavolo?”

“Yes.”

You picked your head up and took a drag from the cigarette between your fingers, letting the smoke dribble from your mouth.

“They wanted Trish to gain access to Diavolo. I wouldn’t have let them lay a hand on her. As for that bastard Diavolo, I suppose it was the shitty pay and the fact that they killed my brother and his husb-“ you forgot the marriage certificate was forged. “His lover.” You corrected yourself.

“So why wouldn’t you join in against the coop?”

You took another drag, hoping you could dull your own senses enough to not care about the words that came out of your mouth.

“I didn’t want to die. A stupid sentiment for a hitman but I felt like I can give still do good.”

“Then how did you end up in the gang in the first place?”

“My stupid, very dead brother. Whose killer you so graciously tossed into a garbage truck.”

Giorno actually laughed quietly at that, folding his arms over his chest as he joined you beside the balustrade.

“What did you do before it all?”

“I was a forensic pathologist, though I apprenticed as a mortician for many years.”

He nodded, gazing up at the sky with you.

“I admit, you’d have been a good addition to my own team but I understand your reasons for wanting to leave. There’s just one thing I ask of you- since it seems your stand can trace some things deep within a person’s soul...”

You didn’t completely think it’s fair, your part of the bargain was already done so you suppose you agreed on the terms simple because you were curious yourself... “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know the identity of my real father.”

[emilyrhymeswithfelony]

Koi No Yokan

This is a Noragami Historical AU I adopted from @bloodredrubymoon with @watchmist1412 with Miko!Hiyori and God of Calamity!Yato based on events during the Hogen Disturbance of 1156. You can always read it on AO3 but I’m still learning to format there, and structure is rather important to my storytelling.

Rated T+ due to death and some adult situations. Historical and A/N at end of each chapter. Musical references will be noted before (if any).

...............................................................................................................................

I hardly know your voice And find that I am hanging on your every word Burned inside my brain And I must stop until we meet again

My Heart Got Caught on Your Sleeve by Lucius

Hiyori had grown into a respected miko, and the beauty of the village. It never ceased to amuse her how quickly adversaries were to underestimate her as an opponent solely on her appearance. Her brother was right all those years ago; she was indeed blessed to be born a woman. For every bandit or rogue samurai that saw her as a gift on a silver platter, she would have another enemy defeated at her feet. She took full advantage of her disarming looks, and hoped she was making her brother proud. 

A couple of Taira samurai had entered the village, and unfortunately began harassing the tavern maids. Hiyori had a boding premonition that morning of pain, and rushed through the town center to the scene, determined to remind these thugs that people were not meant for the taking. Accompanied by two of her sister shrine maidens, the group of rogues came into view. One had the tavern keeper pinned to the outside wall, while two others wrestled with two of the maids, speaking loudly of their disgusting wishes for them. This was not the first time they had samurai harassing their women and bullying their men.  Hiyori was not about to sit around and watch the brute showboating.

“For every honorable warrior, it seems there's always three more pieces of trash claiming the name samurai,” Hiyori spat at them.

“Such ugly words to come out of such pretty lips,” laughs one of the men holding a tavern maid, his hand tucked under the folds of her yukata at her chest.

“Remove your filthy hands from that woman, and show me what it can do with a weapon instead of an unwilling partner, swine.” Hiyori was finding it hard to check her anger at their brazen behavior in public, embarrassing and disgracing the innocent women she knew so well.

“Ha! You’d be so much more attractive if you didn’t speak.” The second thug holding a woman throws his victim to the ground, his hand resting on the area between his thighs. “Come here, and I’ll show you a better use for that mouth of yours.”

The man holding the tavern owner began to cackle. “Let’s show this shrine maiden and her friends how much better we can taste than their god.”

The bystanders watched with both apprehension and eagerness from their hiding spots, ready to witness their divine protector put the men in their place.

“Ami, Yamma, let me handle this. These guys make me sick.” Hiyori grips her short sword, her bow strapped to her back.

“I understand the feeling, Hiyori, but we aren’t going to let you have all the fun. You can have a head start, but that’s it.” They both nod to the focused miko.

“You hear that guys, she wants to dance with all three of us herself. Thirsty girl.”

All three men, having thrown their victims to the side, began to saunter towards their supposed victim.

Hiyori closes her eyes, and breathes in deep. She opens her eyes, releasing her held breath, and begins forward with breakneck speed.  She drops to a spin, catching the legs of the first samurai, swinging her bow down on his head with an echoing crack before spinning back on the ball of her foot to sweep the weapon forcefully up to his groin. She grins, satisfied, as he turns to vomit from the pain. Gracefully, her bow finds it way back to where it began, her short sword unsheathed. The second man was on her, swinging at Hiyori. She falls back to the ground to avoid the strike, immediately springing back as he completes his arc. Her hand brings the blade up with her momentum, slashing the tie to the thug’s clothes and leaving him exposed.“Seems only fair to me,” Hiyori bites out as she blocks a sloppy counter from the man, frantically trying to hold his clothes over his manhood. “Ami, Yamma! This one is yours!” She says with a kick to the half-naked man.

“Ew!”

“You shouldn’t have, Hiyori!” Her friends are on him in an instant, restraining and covering him.

The third man seemed to be the least skilled, waving his sword around as if twirling a baton for show. With the exception of a single wandering man, it was a miracle the rest of the town had stayed far enough away to avoid collateral damage.

A stray strike threatened to take out the man passing by, seemingly oblivious to the fray.  He wore a large brim hat, but surely he could see what was going on around him, or so Hiyori thought. She threw herself into the man’s back, pushing him free of the strike, yet putting herself directly in the swing’s path.  The sharp edge of the blade catches her sleeve, slicing the skin of her forearm underneath. It takes a few moments for the blood to escape the wound. Stunned by both the contact and the gesture, the man fixates on the young miko from his place on the ground, marveling that she had thought to save him. If his mind were running on all cylinders, he might’ve asked her, “Why?” or even managed a small “Thank you,” if not at least an offer to treat the wound she took for him.  Unfortunately for him, the young woman had not missed a beat, and was combating the samurai with more aggression than before. She was before the assailant in a flash, driving her elbow into his abdomen before immediately colliding her fist into his face with a twist of her arm. He was thrust to the ground squarely on his beckside with a fierce kick, and the sounds of a bow being drawn could be heard before another breath could be taken. 

“I think we’ve had enough fun for one day. You’re threatening bystanders now with your inept fighting. I suggest you leave before I start taking you seriously.”

Poised at each man, Hiyori had three arrows ready to finish the brawl for good.

The men began to scramble, hauling each other to their feet, and dragging themselves out of the town. Satisfied with the reactions, Hiyori turns to check on -- “Who was I looking for?” She couldn’t remember why she felt concerned, as if someone had been hurt. Wasn’t a bystander involved in the fight? Looking around, Hiyori furrows her brow in frustration, chasing her fading memory of a wide black hat and savoring the sweet smell in the air.  

“Oh, Hiyori! Your Arm!” As if those words were an incantation, Hiyori finally notices the pain, as she winces and inhales sharply through her teeth. The wound was superficial, not even touching muscle, and made with a clean, sharp blade. She knew it would heal quickly, and barely leave a scar.

“It’s not really that bad, Ami, no need to worry. It just stings is all.”

“I swear, those samurai would try to recruit you if you weren’t a shrine maiden, Hiyori,” a young woman with short blonde hair chimed in.

“Her mother suffered enough letting her train, Yamma, I don’t think she could survive Hiyori riding onto a battlefield,” commented the bespeckled girl with dark hair. Turning with a laugh at her mother’s perpetual dream for her noble-woman-to-be-daughter being shattered, Hiyori couldn’t help feeling as if she was forgetting something important. The girls were fussing over her arm, and began dragging her back to the shrine.  

“At least you won’t have a nasty scar for your wedding coming up this weekend!” Ami teased affectionately. 

Hiyori choked on the laugh she was forcing out. 

“I’ve asked you a hundred times, please stop calling it that! It’s my ascension ceremony, and as far from an actual wedding as you can get!”

Hiyori had completed her training, and that weekend they would participate in the rituals to recognize her as a priestess, a shamaness in full. Technically, there was a portion that imitated a wedding, symbolizing the connection between miko and kami, but Hiyori hardly considered this anything more than an old ritual. 

“I heard in the old days, the newly ascended mikos would claim the next morning to have actually consummated their marriage to their god!”

“Yamma!” Both Ami and Hiyori were completely aghast at their friend’s comment.

“Oh, come on! The way Hiyori holds out on guys, she probably wouldn’t settle for anything less than a god, anyway!”

Ami couldn’t help but blurt out a laugh at the comment. “You know, she has a point, Hiyori. You have never shown interest in men.”

“We aren’t supposed to be interested in guys while training!” Hiyori was desperate to defend herself against this tandem attack.

“Yeah, yeah, but they never said anything about getting something lined up for after training,” Yamma was relentless.

“I mean, we are just looking out for your future, right?”

“Not you, too, Ami!”

“We are merely human, dear Hiyori. Even the gods want to be loved, right?”

Hiyori opened her mouth to refute that statement, but found she had nothing to say. Seizing her opportunity to drive the point home, Yamma threw out the clinching argument; “Besides, even the sun kami, Amiterasu, came out of hiding for a little skin dance.” She wiggled her shoulders, bumping into the other girls as she did so and eliciting giggles from one of the two mikos. 

Adjusting her glasses, Ami delivers the final blow; “Our kagura is based on that story, so maybe you’ll lure a handsome kami out with yours!”

“I don’t know what to celebrate more; Hiyori’s ascension, or her finally finding a love interest!”

“I do not have to listen to this! You two are helpless!” Hiyori groans, eyes rolling as she stomps ahead of her two friends, huddled over in laughter. 

“We’re sorry, Hiyori! Just promise you’ll tell us how divine the touch of a god can be!”

Hiyori lets out a sound of disgust over her friends’ now howling laughter. She storms away while they continue to choke on their own mirth. They were her best friends, but they loved to poke at Hiyori’s sensitive spots. Anytime a new scholar or samurai came across their path, the two girls would try to provoke Hiyori into confessing her interest. It’s not that she didn’t find the men attractive or charming, but she always felt like there was something missing.  She was content just as she was, however, and wouldn’t feign interest for anyone who didn’t take her breath away. 

Hiyori stopped under the torii at the entrance to the shrine. She could see in the distance a twin structure standing in the middle of the water, sunlight bouncing off the arch. She took a deep breath, catching soft and sweet scents in the air. The wind was picking up as the sun went down.  It seemed like it might be stormy that evening. Perhaps her premonition that morning wasn’t regarding their encounter with the samurai trash.

.............................................................................................................................

Hiyori was pulled from her fitful dreams by a force pushing the air out of her chest. She hastily ties back the sleeves of her robe before reaching for her weapons, and rushing outside.  Something was very wrong.  

She feels a heavy force push against the barriers she set up along the edge of the village.  Whatever brought this pressure was not human.  The air hung heavy with the metallic and salty smell of blood.  Mercifully, a breeze picks up, and removes the stagnation, but brings with it something new.  Almost disguised by the smell of gore, something sweet, and mildly familiar lures her.  Following the smell and the source of the pressure, Hiyori runs into the lake and looks around frantically in the moonlight to find the source. Closing her eyes, she focuses on the perimeter of the town.  Her barriers remained intact, yet she could not shake the feeling of the night pressing down on her.  She hears nothing besides her own harried breaths, and the water lapping around her legs and robe. Warm drops hit her shoulder, staining the fabric a deep crimson.  She looks up to the single torii in the water as blood drips across her cheek from the blade of a sword.  Of all the monsters she has purged, and all the phantoms she has purified, nothing felt like his presence. He wore deep midnight robes with black hakama pants. A single sword gleamed in his hands, but she could see the shapes of more on his hip. The wide brim of his black hat shielded the top part of his face, but she could make out sharp features draped in curtains of black hair.  Though unseen, she could feel his eyes locking her in place. She was convinced she was caught in the gaze of death himself.  As if releasing a laugh, another drop falls from the blade onto her cheek, awakening her from the spell. Hiyori steadies herself against the presence above her, yet she does not raise her bow. For all she knew, she was in the presence of a god of calamity. It would be best not to tug on the tail of a sleeping dragon.  She speaks, finally finding her voice.

“Do you seek protection or destruction, my lord?” 

His eyes land on her forearm, exposed to wield her bow.  He sees the bandage, recognizing her wound from the altercation with the samurai scum. She must be the miko who erected the purification barrier, the one who protected this village, even at the cost of her own blood. There was something unnervingly alluring about her, as if the threads of fate became taught whenever she was close. He hadn’t expected her to confront him, but he didn’t mind being caught in her gaze.  

Hiiro had found him earlier that afternoon, shortly after he was knocked to the ground by the woman beneath him, claiming the father of a tavern maid wished for justice for the shame of being revealed before the whole town at the hands of Taira samurai. He didn’t resist this job, having seen the sins himself so recently.  The wish for revenge thrust upon him had been fulfilled, however, and he would expend himself no further.  The other fools clamoring about could kill themselves, and needed no help from him. People died, whether he interfered or not.  He had only ducked beneath the barrier that evening to avoid wasting energy.  He had never expected this fearless miko to peak his curiosity so much.  

“I do not think you wish to fight me, yet you do not grant me an answer.” 

He bites out a laugh at her polite impatience. Such fierceness for such gentle features. He tilts his head back, revealing a sly grin and his electric eyes.

“I’ve had my fill tonight. I merely wish to pass through.” Spring blossoms, he thinks.  That’s what her eyes remind him of. 

The intensity of the blue in his eyes freezes the air in Hiyori’s lungs. Has it been minutes or merely moments since she last took a breath? She takes a cautious step back, content to feign trust in this spirit with a destructive aura, and his promise to spare them in his few words.  She watches as he tips his hat back down, concealing his face once again. Freed from his gaze, Hiyori blinks, but opens her eyes to see nothing but the moon above the arch of the torii.  She lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding, feeling almost disappointed to not have those blue eyes on her anymore.  A breeze picks up and plays with the wet ends of her robe and the soft fringes of her hair.  Beneath the salty scent of blood, the wind carried the sweetest smell.  

That night, sleep did not come easily. When it finally did come, the last thing Hiyori saw behind her closed eyes was a flash of blue sending her to sleep with a shiver.

[mrneighbourlove]

Fall of a Dynasty: Ch 1. No Negotiations This Time

Emperor Zannah of the Kikai Empire had seen better days as a ruler. The start of winter, years after her children’s terrible accident at the earthquake did political turmoil sprout in her Empire. Many started to vocally denounce her rule. Many from the Romtan tribes and the newest of the colonized islands included this. When she tried to quell their protests with non violent means, they quickly sprang violence against her, surprising her militia. A man by the name of Jaster Fett appeared, almost out of nowhere, as a voice of the Hasai people, and those who felt themselves oppressed in the Empire. She found this odd, seeing as he held so much political power and had so many supporters, yet she never heard of such a man before. Over a magic mirror gifted to her from Hyrule, Zannah was currently in communication with Annuciata regarding assistance. “My dear. Is there nothing Danjur can do? Fighting has broken out across the islands. This Fett fool is citing the people to overthrow me. To overthrow monarchy and the Empire for the sake of a little peasant democracy.”

"I can send more supplies if you need them, my love, but as far as war goes, I have to abide by the treaty signed so long ago." Annuciata spoke to Zannah by the magic mirrors provided to them as a gift from Queen Zarazu. "Your only hope is to take out this Jaster and make an example of him. Besides, if I moved my forces there, I would risk hurting your people. How could my men and women tell the difference between the foes and the innocents?" She sighed, running a hand down her face. "I'm so sorry, Zannah. I honestly do not know what to do."

“Listen. You’re looking after the twins. In their current state, I couldn’t risk their safety with me.” Griffith seemed to naturally burn any attachments given to him, and if Athena wasn’t wearing her bandages, she always had a simple mask on to hide her face. Least her son was more vocal from time to time. Athena said nothing any more out of choice. It broke Zannah’s heart to see them both so hurt.

"And I'll continue to look after them, but let me tell you, they're more stubborn than you are, and if Griffith burns this next prototype, I'm dunking him in an ice bath. Or giving him a spanking one." Annuciata sounded more annoyed than she did threatening. "He even made Eleonora cry cause she tried to help him and he was acting like a jerk. At least Athena is still being nice to her baby sister, even if she's not talking. Eleonora played a game of checkers with her, and it seemed to lift her spirits a little. She ate more for lunch that day from what the servants noticed from her tray."

“That’s good. That’s very good progress indeed.”

Her boat rocked, and she jumped slightly. “Ah, sorry. I’m currently sailing to Hyrule. Too stormy for flight, but my ship can power on through. I’m going to try and appeal to King Covarog’s sense of ego to assist me. Jaster Fett has proven ever elusive.”

“Emperor Zannah?”

“Not now.” Zannah shook her head. “I’ll message you at another time my love. Need to address an issue I take.”

"Be safe, Zannah, and do be sure to contact me as soon as you hit land." Annuciata watched as Zannah's image started to fade. "Don't worry about the twins, I'll take care of them." Then the Queen of Danjur looked at the clock. It was a little after lunch. Griffith's new prototypes were to be delivered in fifteen minutes. So, she decided to take the task upon herself to get his legs fitted correctly. Walking down the hall, she stopped at the entrance to his room. "Griffith, darling, it's me, I'm coming in."

“Oh. Don’t worry. I’m decent.” The Prince sounded bored behind the door.

Good goddesses, did all young people like to keep their rooms dark? All the curtains were drawn. Nonetheless, she was here to ensure that this meeting went well. The young man had melted his prototypes, tossed one off the balcony, and other he used as a weapon to threaten the physical therapist. This was going to stop right now.

"Good, today, I'm going to help with your new prototypes that I designed for you." Annuciata opened a couple of the curtains. "Then, we'll go to see your sister."

Griffith’s features immediately frowned. “No. I don’t think we will. I appreciate you looking after us, but I won’t endure anymore failures.”

"Griffith, they're not failures. You keep tossing them away, the prototypes never had a chance." Annuciata then approached his bed. "I promised your mother that I would take care of you and that's what I'm going to do. As your mother's bonded one, that means you're my responsibility too. My kid. You're going to put on a smile and be on your best behavior. Athena is at least being nice, and trying what her sister comes up with. Eleonora is working hard trying to find a solution for your sister." She told him firmly, "You're going to be cordial and listen to the therapist. Do I make myself clear?"

“Athena doesn’t speak a word. She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t show her face.” Griffith grunted as he picked himself off the bed and into the wheel chair. “My body won’t play host to your mechanical monstrosities. Being T0-D 2 is not my idea of an ideal life. And they are failures if they burn so easily.”

Annuciata reached down and pulled the brakes on his wheelchair, giving the young man a hard stare. "I'm not turning you into Tod. I'm making you new legs so you won't be stuck in a wheelchair, being a grump for the rest of your life." She put a finger on his nose. "And Athena may not do any of those things right now, but at least she isn't being an ass to her baby sister or her stepmother. Now, you're going to listen and you're going to try these new legs. I worked very hard on the design, just for you."

When there was a small knock on the door, Annuciata answered to let the physical therapist inside the room.

Griffith tensed, his hands gripping the chair. “They better not hurt.”

"The legs won't hurt, Griffith, they'll just take a little of getting used to." Annuciata took the prosthetic legs from their case. All the necessary gears were in place for proper bending. The neurotransmitter pads were in place to pick up on Griffith's brain signals. She held up the first leg. "Lightweight, sturdy titanium. Easy to learn how to use and look," She held up the leg so Griffith could see. "Eleonora designed a soft, comfortable neurotransmitter pad. It's more comfortable than the itchy sock that protects your skin. Let's give it a try."

“If it hurts me, I’ll burn it.” The crippled man was already mentally defeated, not even thinking of a possibility where he could walk again.

Annuciata gave him a swat on the hand. "You. Will. Not." The Queen of Danjur scolded him, "I have worked tirelessly on these for you, wanting to take care of you. You will stop acting like a teenage brat and try these legs that I crafted for you without a temper tantrum."

“If they hurt than they were shit legs.”

Getting very tired of Griffith's attitude, Annuciata decided to take one from Zarazu's book. It worked with her children. Maybe it would get Griffith's attention. So she flicked his nose. "Stop being a jerk. Or next time, you get a spanking." With that done, she put on the first leg. Then carefully placed the second one. "There. Now, slowly try to stand up. Here, hold my hand."

“I’m in my thirties. You can’t spank me...” With the legs strapped on, his stumps tried to burn through the connections. It was like white blood cells trying to fight off the new and unknown limbs.

"I can if I so like, I'm your stepmother, and you're acting like a child, so I might as well treat you like one." Annuciata chided Griffith. "You can do this. It's just like putting on armor over your legs. Just think of it as an extension of your body."

“It’s unnatural!” Griffith’s pads started to overheat now. He was becoming angry with how awkwardly he was walking.

"I know it's unnatural, but it will be something you will have to get used to!" Annuciata smelled the pads burning and immediately set Griffith back down into the wheelchair. She tried to remove the legs but, in her haste, forgot that metal heats very rapidly. Yanking back her hands, the Queen of Danjur was frustrated. Standing suddenly, she grumbled under her breath. "You know what? Fine. I'm not going to waste my time with someone who won't even try. Use the legs, or don't use them." She wheeled Griffith over to the balcony so he could enjoy some fresh air and the sights of the evening sky. "I'm going to go check on your sister and maybe when you're in a better mood, you can see your sister."

With that, she slammed the door.

“I AM trying! Go to hell! My life is ruined anyway!” Griffith tossed one of the legs at the nurse maid. “Get out!!!”

Annuciata hoped the Eleonora was having better success. She heard her daughter talking to Athena from outside the door and decided to listen.

"Okay, so I just figured out how I can clone some skin cells, it's in the beginning stages, but maybe I can create an artificial layer of skin for you." Eleonora was cheery as always, sitting on her sister's bed, talking to her. "I know you can't see it too good, but here, feel of it." She gently took Athena's finger and stuck it against the putty goop in the petri-dish. "Gross, I know, but those are healthy, growing skin cells."

Athena felt them carefully, her thumbs massaging the goop. Currently, she had a mask almost sealed to her face.  The princess gave her little step sister a nod of approval.

"I don't know how long it will take, but I'll keep trying until I have healthy layers of skin for you. So you can’t give up, okay, sis?" Eleonora held Athena's hand tightly. "I keep trying for Griffith too with the neurotransmitter pad, but... Mom says he keeps burning through them. I don't know what else to do."

Athena once again, could only nod. Looking to her right, she meekly tried to reach a sketch paper and pen.

"Here, I got it." Eleonora handed Athena the very gaudy, glitter covered, unicorn sparkle notepad. "... okay, I know it's silly, but I still think stuff like this is cute." She placed the pen in Athena's hand and held the notepad steady for her.

Carefully, Athena slowly drew. While slowly, and almost lifeless in her movements, it dawned on Eleonora the wrath that was bubbling with in. The subject of the art was Zizi and her spirit Patheon being cut apart into pieces and set on fire.

"... um..." Eleonora was silent for a moment and then sighed. "Sis, you do know that Zizi is the one that pulled you from the ground? She didn't cause the earthquake. Earth Sages don't have that kind of power." She spoke very quietly. "Besides, Zizi and Mama have bad history, yeah, but I don't think she'd ever try to hurt you. You didn't do anything to her. Neither did your brother. Mom said Mama was on her way to Hyrule to talk to King Covarog about some diplomatic issues. Maybe... maybe they might have a healer that could help too. I sent a letter to Naira in Uskar... maybe we'll hear something back."

Athena stabbed the paper, her hands shaking with fury. Moving the pencil with a fist, she wrote out one sentence. “Why aren’t I dead?”

"...?! Dead?!" Eleonora looked at her sister. "You... wanted Zizi to leave you there?"

Noises left Athena’s throat. It was if, despite a small part of her wanting to speak words, she was forced to talk in a beast’s tongue, with light angry gargles leaving her throat. All she could do was continue to write. “Her god could have done more. I have lost all my beauty. Zizi humiliated my families honour. A peasant wench. Curse her and her gods. She should have killed me. My mother should have killed me. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death-“  Athena was in a trance now, not writing any other word.

"I... don't know much about deities." Eleonora carefully took hold of both Athena's hands, snapping her out of her trance. "I only know to be fair, Athena. That's what Mom taught me. Even she has to see both sides of the story." She felt pity for her sister. The princess felt even worse when she knew there was nothing she could really do to ease her sister's pain. "But... I don't think you should have died. I would have missed you. Mom would have missed you. Your brother, Mama... besides, Hasai don't give up that easily, do they?" She said softly. "I don't want you to go anywhere. I don't care what you look like. You're still my sister and I love you."

Athena reached her arms out around Eleonora. Like a zombie, she let out a small moan of comfort as she hugged deep around her. This moan turned into raspy tears as she cried. The crown prince and princess would never be the same. Or at least, they wouldn’t recover in time for the sake of the Empires future.

"Please don't cry, Athena, I'll find a way to fix this for you. That's what sisters are for, they help each other." Eleonora held tightly to her elder sibling. "You're safe here with me and Mom. We'll take care of you, okay? Please don't be sad."

~

Zannah’s ship had finally arrived at Zora’s Domain. Taking a horse carriage escort, the Emperor was accompanied by her elite honour guards out of the domain. The storm over the ocean had carried into Hyrule, rain pelting the landscape. Her mind weighed heavily on how she was going to approach King Covarog. The man still held a grudge, probably more so if he knew what she did to his sister in law by now. It would certainly make negotiations far more difficult.

Events of Fate, however, would fall into place momentarily. Viewing her cart from not to far away, a cloaked man peered at her escort with a telescope. “That’s her alright. This dark winter evening will mark the day the Revolution will land its greatest victory. Today is the day the false Empress dies. Execute them.”

Zannah sighed, tapping her finger on the arm rest of her cart, wishing how she didn’t have to take the long way. Suddenly she heard a thunk at the back window, followed by a tick. Wisdom and instinct told her run. She was just barely both feet out the cart, when her carriage suddenly exploded into pieces. The force launched her into the dense forest, and her guards caught up in confusion. This chaos suddenly made them easy targets, as arrow fire launched outwards, striking her honour guard one by one. They were blown apart by blue light, with them trying to launch bolts of fire back. “Protect the Emperor! Protect her with your lives!”

Zannah stood up, ready to fire lightning at her assassins, when she felt a spike of pain and one of her kneecaps snap. A bolt found its mark, and it sent the Emperor limping to find cover. It was closer inspection, when she noticed who the identity of her attackers was. They were her strike force, the Theron Guards. A scream of fury escaped Zannah, disregarding her need to keep hidden behind cover. “T-traitors!”

She felt her leg worsen with every step, and knew that escape was becoming her best option. No honour in it, but living was far more valuable than honour at the moment. Eying a panicked horse, she hobbled towards it with the firefight worsening around her. Her guards gave their lives so that she could flee. The Theron killed all the Honour Guard, but they gladly gave their lives so she could survive. Hosting herself on a white stallion, she took off down the muddy road to central Hyrule. She turned to intercept arrows with magic, her fire detonating projectiles aimed at herself and her steed. The Theron knew that they failed in the initial attack, so when she disappeared down the trail, they didn’t follow with haste. They maimed her, caused her to flee. That alone was a form of victory. Besides, they could follow the trial soon enough.

Zannah traveled fast and long into Hyrule from the West. Soaked to the bone, and bleeding from her kneecap and a lucky shot in her back, the Emperor found herself in country territory, not too far from Castle Town. Could find salvation from this terrible fate?

________________________________________________________________

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/614055858328977408/fall-of-a-dynasty-ch-2-friends-in-high-places

Crossover with @ridersoftheapocalypse. Shared world with @s-kinnaly. Enjoy a new arc! Will feature @figmentforms Rinku more prominently. 

[zerotexas1975]

and then it rained bullets (smut);

↳ pairing: mafia heirs!jin x deadshot!reader

↳ genre: DC au | mafia au | angst | fluff? | smut

↳ word count: 2,857

↳ warnings: cursing, violence, blood, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (surprise surprise), dirty talk but like just a little, character death.

↳ prompt: “the world’s best marksman prepares to kill the world’s luckiest man.”

“Someone told me you never missed a shot,” he eyed you up and down, and your tongue swirled inside your mouth in disgust. “You are not going to disappoint me, are you?”

“As long as you are paying,” you shrugged.

He laughed humorously, “you really are my daughter, huh?”

You ignored him, sighing impatiently. “What is the name?”

“Kim Seokjin,” you frowned, relieved that you decided to come with your uniform - the mask that covered your face hiding your reaction from his attentive gaze, however he noticed how you nervously transferred the weight from one foot to the other. “You probably heard it before, he is the eldest son of seven from Kim Seung-gi and is already causing me problems, I need him out.”

“Do you want me to kill someone from Bangtan?” you scoffed, “did the disease reached your brain already?”

His eyes widened and the sight of him being taken aback by something you said made your stomach flutter pleasantly. “H-how do you know that I’m sick?”

“Does it matter?” you cocked one brow at him even if he couldn’t see it - he could hear the tone of your voice and glared at you.

“No, not really,” he cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “What is important right now is why you don’t want to do this.”

The hold on the gun in your hand tightened when he stepped closer, eyeing you with tight lips.

He doesn’t trust you.

Not that he should or have any reasons to, anyway.

“What is it?” he continued when you took too long to answer. “Do you fear them?” you rolled your eyes at that. “I thought you were braver.”

“This has nothing to do with being brave or not,” you lift your chin, “I’m just not stupid. Everyone knows better than to get in their wrong side.”

“I thought you knew better than getting on my wrong side,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest and you swallowed the urge to bow your head how you used to do when you were younger and he looked at you like this. “I’m not asking you to do it Deadshot, you owe me.”

“For what?” you laughed loudly and he winced at the sound. “Every debt I had with you was fairly paid, don’t you dare say I owe you something.”

“Fairly?” his eyebrows raised in disbelief, “and what about your brother?”

“Don’t talk about him,” anger dripped from your voice, finger pointing at his chest.

He looked at you like you were some child throwing a tantrum, the disapproval written all over his face, his patience always too thin when you were the one involved.

“And do you think you have the right to?” his voice darkened and he reaches to grab you by the arm. “You killed him.”

You jerk away from his touch, a shiver running down your spine. Your lips starts quivering so you bite them hard, feeling the characteristic taste of blood in your mouth. You feel like crying but there’s no way you are doing that in front of him after so long of not seeing each other, but you still snaps. “And whose fault was that?”

“Not mine,” he leaned forward, “it was not my fault you could barely hold a gun back then.” His eyes lit suddenly, a devious grin stretching the corner of his lips, “is that the reason you are backing out? You are scared you will miss it, aren’t you?”

You scowled, posture tense before you smile behind the mask, tilting your head to the side while he dares you to avert your gaze. You don’t.

“When?”

He watched you in surprise, twisting around when you didn’t say anything else and resting his hip on his desk. “I’ll let you know,” he motioned, grabbing a piece of paper. You wonder what is he thinking about when you see his hands trembling - anguish building up when you realize it’s probably about your brother, the one he always favored. “Now leave, I have things to do.”

You nodded, still finding it all suspicious.

You had your hand stuck in the door handle after you turned to leave when your voice danced sweetly throughout the office, reaching his ears to boil his blood. “You are going to root in hell, you know that, right?”

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand, eyes glued on the papers in front of him to hide how he actually felt about what you said and how you sounded when you did so. “See you there, dear.”

-

“Kim Seokjin, prince of the mafia, making out with his girlfriend in some dirty alley,” you said teasingly, one of your legs hooked on his hips, skirt long way gone while he pressed himself against your center. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Do you have your gun with you?” he asked breathless, his hand moving inside your shirt to cup one of your breast, your nipple in between his index finger and thumb.

Your legs trembled weak, a pleasant sigh leaving your mouth when you replied with your voice low that you always have it with you.

“Then I’m not worried,” his lips touched yours with every word and you nodded, hands tugging on his white dress shirt before you whined his name, the taste of his smile in your mouth as he asks. “What?”

“Can’t wait any longer,” you managed to say.

“Then I won’t make you wait, love,” he whispered, finally attaching his lips to yours. He nibbles and suck at your bottom lip, the silent promise that he is going to leave marks behind so you have something of him you can actually have around without raising suspicions - while you were obviously far from being worried, too concentrated in the way you moved to grind against him, to listen to his hiss when he felt your wetness passing through the thin fabric of your panties.

You pull apart to take them off, a single string connecting you with it before you end sliding it off of your body, the sight making his head spin with lust, voice heavy. “You are such a slut, aren’t you?” he asked, pinching your nipple harder. “Doing things like this so you can have my dick inside of you.”

You whimper, fingers working fast at his belt, and his head falls back when you reach inside his boxers to stroke his throbbing member; you swirl a finger around the wet tip and rest your forehead on his chest to look down at him.

“Don’t drool,” he said playfully and you rolled your eyes, tightening your hold on him carefully to start pumping him, making Jin suck in his breath.

You slipped your hand out to eye him with false innocence and he scowled at you at your sudden move. “I want some too,” you said simply.

“Love,” he breathed while fisting your hair on his hand, “don’t be a tease.”

“Then help me here, please,” you begged, holding his free hand and guiding him to your dripping cunt that almost aches without contact, seeking relief.

“We don’t have time for that, c’me here,” he forces you to tilt your head to the side and kisses your neck softly before turning you around. He breathed behind your ear, warm tongue dancing against your skin, the tip of his cock pushing inside your wet folds. The side of your eyes prickles with tears, and you sob when you feel him stretching you out, wishing you actually had the time.

“Seokjin, please,” you cried, clenching around him.

“God, you feel so fucking good around me, I missed this.” He let go of your hand and breast to get a tight hold at your hips, giving you a moment to adjust before starting to pound into you again, pulling out all of his cock and slamming back slowly. It felt good at first.

But then it was just torture. So you begged for more, you wanted him to go faster.

Your moans fueled him to go harder, deeper, and his own grunts right into your ear makes you even more desperate for him. He leans over, reaching his hand to your clit, brushing his fingertips lightly before you are arching your back to feel him closer. “M-more,”

“You like it rough, baby?” He asked, aware that he found the right pace when you moaned louder to reply.

Jin increased the pressure, transfixed with the sight of you in front of him before you warned, “I’m gonna cum, Jin, pl-“

With your cheek pressed against the cold brick wall and a frown adorning your face, you miss his own expression after he stopped moving suddenly, backing away from you. The cold air tickles your exposed body and you shiver, opening your mouth to complain - but his swollen lips and hazy eyes at view when he turns you swiftly to face him again didn’t let you, a kiss in your forehead to make your expression soft in front of his short but sweet revenge.

“If you are going to cum,” he started, hands gripping underneath your knees, pulling them up and hitching them around his waist - you wrap your arms around his neck in surprise, “then you’ll do it looking me in the eyes.” And he thrusts himself inside of you all the way, making you gasp against his mouth.

He rocks both of your bodies on the wall, warmth flooding your abdomen. You clench around him, vision blurred, his name chanted in between your moans - trying to keep your eyes open when he held your jaw to force you to look at him, “You do as you are told, Y/N,” so you come undone with him still inside of you moving in a rapid pace.

His thrusts become more sloppy, and you know he was close to cum too. You pulled at his hair, sprawling kisses on his neck weakly.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he leaned his head, hiding his face on your neck, moving against you one final time before releasing himself inside of you; dick pulsing pleasantly on your sensitive walls filled with him.

Jin’s body held yours against the wall after a while when he removed himself from you slowly - with a broken sigh at the sensation. He then step back so you can keep on your feets, but close enough for you to hold onto him.

He helps you with your skirt when he finds it, not too far from your feets, adjusting it on your hips after caressing your bruises - the new and not so old ones, with his thumb.

“This is gone,” he showed you your panties later, then made it disappear inside of his pocket after he pulled his pants up, making you laugh quietly.

“My father already hate you so much, if he knew about it,” you started without really thinking. But your father? He would actually love it.

Jin wrinkled his nose and you smiled apologetic for ruining the mood.

Is just that you can’t help it, it’s good while it’s good, but then is just hard to not to think about what you have to do. “I’m just saying-”

“What are you saying, Y/N? That he would hire a marksman to shoot me or something? He can’t be that bad,” he scoffed but you frowned nervously, playing with the buttons of his shirt.

He is not your dad’s biggest fan either. Even without any idea of who he is - he heard you complaining enough times to make his decision. If you hate your dad, then he hates your dad.

Jin lean over you now to kiss your nose affectionately, then the corner of your lips - holding your hand between his, misreading your worry since he doesn’t know the story behind your relationship with your dad.

“I hope he never find about us,” you say, biting your lips for lying on his face.

“You know I love you, right?” he asked softly and you nodded your head, but refused to look him in the eyes or to say it back. Coward. “Believe me when I tell you not to worry love, I can protect myself. And if he finds out,” he left the sentence to die with a shrug. “Besides, my girlfriend is a badass who knows how to use a gun, you should know better than me. I’m lucky!” he nudge you.

Naive Jin - you muse, head resting on the window glass from the car you found yourself in after saying goodbye, with the pay driver he hired especially to help you with your escapades to see him - you can’t protect yourself from someone who never missed a shot.

-

You walk into the roof carrying your AR-15, the red and gold customized magazine glittering under the sunlight that shine with no mercy at the top of your head.

Sitting at the edge of the building, you watch your surroundings and spot three of your dads men two floors above you with their guns in hand, the glassy abandoned building in front of yours making a poor job of hiding them though you know they don’t really mind that - eyes trained to where they were supposed to be.

You have your attention back at the street below you when a shining black elmiraj turns the corner and parks at the exact spot you asked Jin to; the young man in question leaving in his expensive blue navy suit, looking around and searching for you.

His bodyguards are out of your vision reach, but you know they are there somewhere near him, ready to give their life in order to protect the next in line to rule what is now Bangtan’s underworld.

“What is taking you so long?” your dad’s voice rings through the earpiece.

You sigh exasperated, sliding your phone out of your pocket, “where is my money?”

He stays quiet on the other side and you look at Jin who started to pace around impatiently, the click of your tongue disappearing behind the chaotic city’s life while you glance at the bank app and asks. “So?”

“I just sent it,” he sounded unpleasant and your phone buzzed in your hand not long after, the number of your bank account increased to millions, “now do it.”

“But I think it would look prettier with more numbers,” you pouted, shoving the device in your belt.

“Deadshot, kill him!” he growled and you rolled your eyes.

“Alright, alright” you said in a mocking tone, aiming at your target before pulling the trigger.

The loud shot thunder throughout the city, hitting the pipe right next to Seokjin’s head.

And the bastard didn’t even flinch.

“Oh!” you whispered softly.

“What?”

“I missed it.”

“Your fuck-“ you dropped the earpiece and took off your mask so Jin could look up at you, see you, and you are rewarded with a pretty side smile adorning his face.

You wave cutely at him, watching as he motion with his hand. “I’ll call you!” He mouthed while being dragged inside the armoured car by three security guards - and from the distance you even had the chance to hear one of them calling Seokjin out for doing something this stupid, wondering how he convinced them to do that.

That’s your stupid right there.

You hear the sound of breaking glass before the shot, ducking at the concrete floor suddenly when a bullet grazes your shoulder.

You miss his handsome face already.

Putting the earpiece back, you can faintly hear your dad’s curses and commends; “Hey!” you waited for his attention after you called, crawling to the other edge of the roof that would give you better coverage, and when he curses directly at you, you continue, “you know how many bullets someone can take before they die?”

“I don’t c-“

“A lot,” you smile, patting the two holsters at the small of your back and taking one of your full-auto Glock 18 with you. Blood was dripping down from your wound and staining your uniform but you had to ignore how your arm hurt while reaching your hand out, eyes glued at the mirrored door of the stairs that took you to the roof. You shoot at the one man who had his guard down, speaker in hand - probably talking with his boss. “A lot,” you repeated.

You have no time to watch his limp body falling with the shattered window glasses because you have to crouch down again and protect yourself, but you do hear the scream of a civilian in the distance when it hits the ground; you take the opportunity though to shoot several times - more than necessary - at the two remaining guys who looked in the direction of the high pitched sound before looking at you in surprise when they spotted you. Fucking idiots, you muse.

Your dad called your name, for the first time in years, and you take the hair out of your face in annoyance. You hush him, heart beating erratically inside of your chest and breathing unsteady.

“You mention Kim Seokjin’s name again and that will be you,” and the line went out.

A/N: this was inspired by the DC universe and the suicide squad movie - the title was taken from a deadshot comic book. That’s it! Please leave feedback! 🙆🏽‍♀️ | masterlist (I’ll add links later since tumblr broke them!)

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 26)

Blessed Are The Peacemakers

Well, y’all know what’s going to happen in this chapter. Poor Arthur :(

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

The moment Dutch and Micah rode back into camp after their meeting with Colm O'Driscoll, I knew something was wrong. Dutch looked livid, far angrier than I had ever seen him before. He swung down from his Arabian and marched straight towards his tent, snapping at Hosea to join him and pushing carelessly past a concerned Molly. I looked towards the treeline for a third rider, but it was just the two of them. Other members of the camp looked on with frowns on their faces, nobody seemed to have the guts to ask what had happened, though. Micah was dawdling around the horses, giving his own a stick of celery and removing its saddle, hanging it over one of the hitching posts. 

I found myself approaching him, something he seemed very pleased about. 

"Micah," I greeted him, nodding politely. A smile broke across his face and he swanned over to me after giving his horse a parting pat on the neck. 

"Hey there, sugarplum," he drawled in his usual mocking fashion. 

"What happened? Where's Arthur?" I cut to the chase, and he soured at the mention of his name.

"Arthur," he muttered with distaste, "couldn't seem to do his job."

"What do you mean?" I questioned, something cold piercing into my belly. 

"Our truce didn't go so well, meaning it did not happen. Morgan was supposed to meet us after keeping watch over us, but he either got lost on the way to his look-out point or he's ran off with the bastards, I don't really know," he shrugged theatrically and walked away from me. I gave chase, mouth chewing up words messily before I managed to get anything resembling English to form on my tongue.

"You don't know where he is?" I asked loudly, horrified, gaining a few looks from others in the vicinity. 

"Relax, woman," he sighed heavily, spinning around to face me. "He might be a dumbass but he's capable enough of defending himself if push comes to shove."

"You're going to look for him, right? You and Dutch?" I urged, following him all the way over to Dutch's tent. 

"No, we're absolutely not going to go looking for him, because it wouldn't surprise me if that's exactly what Colm wants us to do," Dutch answered, hearing our conversation as we approached. I stared at him, mouth agape. "Don't look at me like that, you have no idea about Colm O'Driscoll."

"So– so you're just gonna leave him?" I hissed, unable to comprehend what was happening, sick with worry, my heart throbbing almost painfully inside my rib cage. Everything outside of my direct point of vision was a total murky blur. I shook a hand from my arm, unable to tell if it was Micah or Hosea when I was staring straight at Dutch.

"If I could just get five minutes," Dutch raised his voice, bringing his hands up to his temples, "to think about what I'm gonna do!"

I retreated a little, eyes dropping to the floor, mind spinning with possibilities, options, potential actions, images of Arthur in all kinds of situations. 

"I will come with you, I can shoot, I promise you I can, I can help. If you would just–” 

"Somebody get her out of here, I can barely hear myself think!" Dutch yelled, then I was being gently pulled away by a pair of cool hands on my upper arms. I let it happen as I heard Dutch spout off some more. "Don't even know why she's getting all het up, been here barely ten minutes!" 

"Don't mind her, Dutch, she's got a silly little crush," I heard Micah tell him snidely.

"Oh, that is the last thing we need–” Dutch replied, but Hosea took me away from them before I caught any more of their conversation. 

He sat me down on a log facing out over the lake, and crouched down in front of me. Even I heard the way his joints cracked as he did, but he didn't seem fazed. He took one of my hands in his, and I finally found it in me to look him in the eye. He had gentle eyes, those that belonged to literally anyone other than who I'd think of as an outlaw.

"Take a breath now, dear," he told me, and I was thankful for the reminder, having been sitting so stiff and tense I hadn't really been breathing. 

The breath I did take was shaky and betrayed my nerves. 

"It's all going to be alright, we'll fix this," Hosea said.

"Mr. Matthews, what's happening? The others are coming to all sorts of conclusions about Arthur," I heard Miss Grimshaw from over my shoulder and I squeezed my eyes shut. 

"We… we don't know. Try not to worry, Susan, and keep everyone calm. We think Colm's boys got him, but we've no reason to fear the worst just yet. Dutch is thinking things through," Hosea explained in a surprisingly placid tone of voice. There was a pause and Hosea nodded minutely at Susan, and I had the sense that she'd mouthed something behind my back, then I felt a careful hand on my shoulder lingering for only a moment before she walked away.

"He's gonna do something, right? Cause if he ain't, I'll go out there myself–" I started, and Hosea held his hand up to halt me.

"He'll figure something, he always does. I tried to warn him that this wasn't a good idea, but I guess the chance to make one of our problems go away was just too shiny to pass up."

"If Arthur…" I trailed off, my throat suddenly feeling tight, eyes going cloudy. I scrubbed at them and took a breath. 

"He's a tough one, I'm sure you know that. He can hold his own," Hosea assured me, squeezing my hand. "I know that you and Arthur have grown close."

A sound burst from me, something like a laugh, and I nodded my head. Hosea nodded too, brow creasing with pity. 

"Try not to lose your head, now. You think Arthur'd want you to worry like this? Gettin' all worked up?" He asked and I shook my head, willing the tears in my eyes to evaporate before they could get the better of me.

"No, you're right, I'm just worried. Arthur; he's… he's the only person I've ever felt–" I stopped mid sentence, biting down on my bottom lip. Hosea nodded again and patted the back of my hand, looking down at it.

"Arthur's been in a disturbingly good mood, last couple of weeks. I think you're doing him some good, my dear. You're a good kid, you've settled right in here and you pull your weight better than some of these who've been here for years," he gave a quiet laugh before continuing. "I'm real glad to have you, and I hope you don't take some of the things Dutch says to heart. I know he hasn't always been in the best of moods when you've spoken to him before."

"I don't. I'm sure Dutch has a lot of things on his plate, being the leader and all, my sensibilities shouldn't be one of 'em," I shrugged my shoulders weakly and Hosea released a soft breath. 

"Like I said, you're a good kid," he told me then pushed himself upright. "Would you like me to send someone over?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

"Alright then, sweetheart. I'll go and find out what Dutch is up to. We'll get our boy back, some way or another," he patted my shoulder before leaving me alone. 

I took a few moments for myself, leaning my elbows on my knees and staring down at the ground. My talk with Hosea had calmed me down some, but I wouldn't be able to swallow my worry without seeing Arthur first. I knew that sitting around feeling sorry for myself was doing nobody any favours, so I soon rose to my feet and walked over to Pearson's station.

The man himself had abandoned dinner, and so I picked up where he left off in its preparation. A scan of the camp found him sitting by the fire, head in his hands; I remembered that it was him who'd brought this meeting with the O'Driscolls to Dutch's attention. He must've felt terrible. Tilly was sat next to him, speaking quietly to him. Everyone else was, I realised with horror, staring right at me. I met their gazes, eyes flickering from Bill, to Karen, to Reverend Swanson before everyone suddenly found the fire very interesting and focused their attention on that instead of me. 

I'd seen it written all over their faces, though, anyone who didn't know about Arthur and I certainly had some sort of suspicion now. They eyed me with curiosity, surprise, disbelief, after no doubt seeing my mini-breakdown with Dutch and Hosea respectively. Whatever they thought, though, I couldn't much care about. I threw myself into finishing the food for everyone, never mind the fact I couldn't stomach anything myself.

-

Time passed on and I had been torn between confronting Dutch about why the hell he hadn't gone out there yet, and going out myself. Night fell, however, and Dutch encouraged us all to get some sleep, promising a solution by the morning. Of course, I slept like shit, every passing moment filling my head with worse and worse images of what could be happening to my sweetheart. I didn't want to think what I was thinking, there was an aspect of dread that had me worrying that I would be willing it into reality, and we'd never see Arthur alive again. It was this thought pattern going around in circles in my brain; trying not to think about it and focusing so much on not thinking about it until it was all I could think about!

I ended up sitting on Arthur's bed, staring off into space. I hoped that I wouldn't be noticed when Sean ambled past towards the edge of camp, ready to replace whoever was currently keeping guard. I got my wish, Sean didn't even look my way, but Charles – whom he was taking over from – did. He stopped in his tracks on his way to bed, looking right at me, and I felt warmth creep up my neck to my cheeks at being caught in Arthur's space, where I really had no business being. 

Charles slowly approached me, hesitant in his steps. 

"Evening," he greeted in that low, level tone of his. 

"Hi, Charles," I responded quietly. 

There was a lengthy pause.

"You okay?" He asked. 

I didn't want to answer. Him showing care and concern, even in the detached, placid way Charles had with words, had set a lump in my throat. I simply nodded my head in place of a verbal answer, however Charles did not continue walking. At least not in the direction of his own bed; instead he joined me on Arthur's. 

"If you'd like to talk, I'm a good listener. I'm not much of a conversationalist, and I can't promise I'll be any good at responding, but I'll definitely listen," he offered.

"Thank you, but I fear if I talk, I'll cry," I admitted. He nodded his head slowly.

"I understand. Though, I know we break a lot of laws, but crying isn't a crime."

"I guess I'm kinda mad at…" I began, trailing off just as fast. I snuck a look at Charles, deciding whether or not it was a good idea to be honest. I didn't think he'd go off spouting everything I said to everyone else, but still. 

"Dutch?" He asked after my pause, reading my thoughts perfectly. 

I gauged his expression before nodding. 

"Yeah, I understand," he sighed.

"Are you?"

"Not particularly," he murmured, "it's a tough situation and I can see things from his side. The O'Driscolls will be expecting us to retaliate, could end real bad for us if we play into their expectations. We don't know exactly what Colm's planning, but I bet Arthur wouldn't want us jeopardising the gang for his sake."

"Well, I guess that's a point," I shrugged my shoulders glumly.

"But, that doesn't mean I don't feel like crap just sitting here, doing nothing," he added, meeting my eyes sympathetically. "Arthur, he's… I have a lot of respect for him. He does a lot for us."

I held his gaze for a while. "Yeah, he does. I guess that's why it's so hard for me to stand by while Dutch tells everyone he'll get to it in the morning. If it was anyone else in Arthur's position, Arthur himself would be straight out there, probably."

"You're probably right," he agreed. 

"I keep thinking about going… but I have no idea where he'd be. And even if I did find him, I'd get myself killed, no doubt."

"You're probably right about that, too. Don't do anything reckless," he gave a hollow laugh and I sighed. 

"I just feel awful," I shook my head, then leaned my head in my hands. I felt Charles' hand pat my upper back.

"Arthur isn't invincible, I'm not going to sit here and promise you he's going to be alright–"

"Thanks," I laughed drily.

"–and chances are it wouldn't bring you any comfort, anyway," he continued logically, "but what I will say is; he's strong. He can handle himself. If anyone can take on the O'Driscolls, it's Arthur."

"In that case, let's hope he strolls in here any second now, carrying Colm's severed head or something," I mumbled monotonously, and I heard him laugh through his nose. 

"Let's hope," he agreed, "anyway, sleep."

"I can't."

Charles stood up and gave me a small smile. "Laying down and closing your eyes might help."

"I… I really like him, Charles," I said, the corners of my mouth turning down, trembling. Charles' expression was unchanging besides a slight softening in his eyes.

"I know."

"I'm worried." 

Charles let out a breath, shifting slightly and averting his eyes. "Me too," he admitted, "but there's not a lot we can do, not until Dutch says something."

I nodded, reluctantly accepting the situation for what it was; pretty hopeless.

"I won't keep you, get some sleep," I told him. 

"You too," he said, nodding at me before heading to bed with a small, parting smile.

I didn't get to sleep until the very first hints of daylight were painting the sky a lighter shade of blue, and of course, it wasn't long after that everyone was getting up and making noise. I must've scrounged an hour or two of sleep, and upon waking up I threw myself into chores. I tried not to think too hard about Dutch, but I heard passing conversation whenever I was near his tent. 

"What if we send some men out looking, so we at least know where the O'Driscolls are hiding? We might be able to get a better sense of the situation, have a fighting chance of figuring something out," I heard Hosea pleading. 

"Who're you gonna send out? I ain't risking my neck, it'd be no surprise to me if they had the entire state's lawmen sittin' there waiting for us, the greasy bastard said they'd offered him a price for Dutch," Micah responded, and I frowned to myself. 

"I was asking Dutch," came Hosea's placid retort. 

"No, Micah is right. We can't just barge in there, we can't play into his hands so easily," Dutch said. 

"It wouldn't be barging in there, it'd be assessing the situation. What else do you suppose? We just leave him there? Dutch…" Hosea sounded irritated and even pained, and I had to walk away. It felt as if there was only one man in that tent that truly cared about Arthur.

Before I knew it, the day was passing. Arthur had been missing for over twenty four hours, and I was suddenly feeling quite numb. I recognised the feeling enough that I had to put effort into not consciously admitting it, but in the back of my mind I had assumed the worst. I was preparing myself for never seeing him again, thinking that even if we did send someone out to find him, they'd be doing so purely to put him to rest. I was no stranger to death, to loss, and the cold calmness I felt in my stomach was all too familiar. I remembered it well from the night before my mother died, and my father soon after. I was detaching myself from the situation, hoping to soften the blow.

But then, when darkness fell once again, a solo set of hoof beats sounded on the edge of camp. My stomach dropped when my head swivelled and my eyes found Jet, and at first I couldn't see anyone on the back of him. I shot to my feet as the barest light from the stars and the camp caught something sliding from the saddle onto the ground with a thud and a groan. 

I was hit with intense nausea and took off towards Arthur, yelling at the top of my lungs for everyone's attention. Women around me gasped and called out to Arthur, hot on my heels as we approached. I stalled when I was a few steps away from him, spotting blood; a lot of it, and I felt light headed. I wasn't squeamish, blood didn't bother me, it was the fact that it was Arthur's that had my head spinning.

But he was alive!

I quickly pulled myself together and closed the gap between us, coming around to crouch by his side, scanning his body to work out where the blood was coming from. He didn't seem with it, struggling to stay conscious, eyes glazing as he blearily looked up at me. He croaked my name weakly. 

"It's okay Arthur, you're safe, you're back at camp," I told him and my voice sounded eerily void of emotion. 

I discovered the source of the bleeding, he had a gory wound on his shoulder, torn through his union suit – which was all he was wearing – looked to have been caused by a bullet. Close range. Dutch showed up by my side, freezing just as I had before bending down and wrapping an arm around him, trying to ease him up. 

"I told you, Dutch. It was a set up," Arthur slurred, sagging against Dutch's arm. 

"My boy…" Dutch began, at a loss for words, face stricken with worry. The look turned my stomach, souring me. "You- you're okay, son. Swanson!"

The reverend came running up, squeezing in before me. I backed up to give them room along with everyone else, watching helplessly as the men hoisted Arthur up and began near enough carrying him over to his tent.

"I got away… Colm was gonna get the law on you. All of us," Arthur told him, head hanging between his shoulders before he was set down on his bed, laid down gingerly, careful of his shoulder. 

"I bet he was," Dutch said through a clenched jaw. "Don't you worry, son. You're safe now. You're home."

Miss Grimshaw appeared at my side, putting a comforting hand on the small of my back. I felt useless, just standing there and watching but I had no clue what else I could do. I willed someone to bark an order at me so that I could be of some use but nobody did. Arthur was drenched in sweat, his union suit soiled with dirt and blood, hair dishevelled and clinging to his face and neck. It was a complete shock to my system to see him look so vulnerable and wounded. A cold sweat rolled down the center of my spine as I began to fear the worst, yet again.

"Miss Grimshaw, will you sit with him a while?" Dutch asked, never glancing my way. 

"Of course," she said, letting go of me and pulling up a seat by Arthur's bed, whispering words of comfort to him. Dutch walked past me wordlessly and I just continued to stare at Arthur, completely and utterly frozen and useless. 

I heard my name form on Arthur's dried, swollen lips, and I was moving forward without telling my legs to do so. I dropped to my knees next to him, next to Susan, and with a shivering hand I gently patted his, not wanting to touch him too much in case I jostled an injury. 

"I'm here, Arthur, I am so sorry, I wish I could do something for you. What can I do?" The words almost sounded like a plea. Arthur's face was covered in cuts and bruises, and with my free hand I gently brushed away a piece of his hair before it stuck to a cut on his cheekbone and dried there. 

"Some– some water," he requested and Susan rose up, planting a hand on my shoulder. 

"I'll fetch some. You stay with him, honey," she offered, and I gave her a grateful nod and took the seat she patted as she left.

"Oh, lord, Arthur, what have they done to you?" I trembled, feeling a sob building in my throat and swallowing it back. 

"'s fine, jus' a scratch," he murmured and I shook my head at his attitude. 

"You ain't still bleeding," I noted, "can I look?" 

"I sorted it, stopped the bleeding. You can look."

"What did you do to it? I'm gonna move your union suit, this thing dries up it'll be hell to pull away," I warned him, unbuttoning the top buttons of the suit before carefully peeling the fabric away from his wound. Getting a better look at what he was dealing with, he needn't have answered my question since it was evident from what I saw. My mouth went dry. 

"Cauterised it myself, an' dug the bullet out," he confirmed. 

"Oh god, Arthur…"

"Was that or bleed out."

"You're one brave man," I told him, stroking his hair slowly. 

Miss Grimshaw returned then, a cup of water in one hand, a bucket of the stuff in the other, a bottle tucked under her arm. She handed me the cup of water and I reached for the back of Arthur's head, helping him lift up just enough for me to give him a drink. He sipped down enough to quench his thirst, then Susan was quick to replace the cup in my hand with a bottle of whiskey. I stared at it for a moment. 

"Mr. Morgan, I'm afraid we're gonna have to clean and stitch up that wound," she said grimly. Arthur made a small sound, a cross between a grunt and a sob.

"I know," he muttered through gritted teeth, an unhappy sense of understanding in his tone. Hosea approached carrying a small tin.

"Give him a generous glug of that whiskey, dear, he'll need it," he said, and I immediately unscrewed the cap and offered it to him. Arthur drank eagerly, wincing at the burn.

Dutch helped me to rearrange a few things around Arthur's wagon before they got on with it, allowing time for the whiskey to work on his system. We moved the crates by his bed back, giving us a little more room surrounding it, and Dutch retrieved some extra canvas to hang up around to create a closed off space to give the man some privacy. He didn't say a word to me outside of the occasional instruction, and when we were done he slipped inside the tent to join Hosea, letting the flap of canvas fall closed in front of me. I stood there for a moment, staring at the stained, old canvas blankly. 

I heard them talking inside, Hosea asking where I was. 

"She's outside," came Dutch's blunt response, followed by Arthur's woozy repetition of my name. "This ain't nothing for a lady to watch, Arthur, you're in quite a state," Dutch added. 

"Do you want her here, Arthur?" Hosea asked, regardless. There was a long pause. 

"No… best not," Arthur finally murmured. 

"Alright then, are you ready, my boy?"

"No, but just get it done," Arthur grunted back. I stepped away, backwards, keeping my eyes on the glowing canvas, light wavering from the lantern inside, shadows cast by Hosea and Dutch as they moved into position around him. 

After a few moments of quiet, I heard Arthur hiss with agony, grunting and letting loose tight, wavering breaths. I did the cowardly thing and sped away across the camp, getting far enough away so that I could only just hear him as they worked on him. I sat myself down on my bed roll, leaning up against the wagon behind it, bringing my knees up to my chest and folding my arms over my legs, nestling my head there in a bid to block out the noise. He wasn't hollering all that much, but the canvas didn't do much to stop the sounds he was making from meeting my ears. I felt terrible for blocking it out, but every moan made my stomach squeeze, mouth filling with spit like I was going to puke. There was nothing I could do for him, and he'd said himself he didn't want me around to see him like this. 

"Hey sweetie, how're you doin'?" Abigail's concerned voice pulled me from my cocoon and I lifted my head to look at her. 

"I'm fine, ain't me with a bullet hole in me," I told her.

"Yeah, but…" she trailed off, then sat down beside me. "Uh, just so you know, people are talkin'."

"Let them talk," I shrugged, shaking my head. 

"Thought you might say that, I know you've got more pressing matters on your mind. I just thought you deserved to know," she admitted, and touched my arm briefly. "I never confirmed it, told 'em all to mind their business."

"Thanks. It's my fault, I've hardly been subtle," I sighed, looking towards the fire where the gang members were all sat, "they either think I'm obsessed with him like some creep, or they clocked the truth."

"It's probably the latter, Miss Grimshaw shooed all the other girls off, 'sides you."

I didn't respond, looking down at the ground and chewing on the inside of my cheek.

"He's gonna be okay, you know," Abigail tried to reassure me. 

"I sincerely hope so," I breathed. 

"Keep your chin up, Arthur's tough."

"I just can't believe he had to drag himself back here like that… dig the bullet out and cauterise it on his own, escape from those people," I muttered, shaking my head. "I get that the situation was difficult, but it seemed like Dutch wasn't prepared to do anything."

"You don't think he'd've just left him, do you?" She asked, and I wasn't sure if she was being incredulous, or asking seriously. I shrugged my shoulders. 

"I have no idea. I kept thinking of recruiting some help and going out looking myself, maybe if I had– if I'd've gone yesterday, he might not–"

"Stop it, I know where you're going with this. Ain't nothing you could've done, and you know it," Abigail scolded. "I know you've got feelings for him and you're worried, but don't start saying what if. These things happen."

"I know," I said glumly. 

"He's going to be fine, just watch," she reiterated and I nodded in acceptance. She was probably right. Arthur was home, he was safe, we'd all take care of him until he was fully recovered. 

I looked over at Arthur's tent when movement caught my eye to see Hosea and Dutch emerge; they stood there for a moment, passing a few words before parting ways. Dutch went back to his own tent, closing the flaps up behind him and shutting himself off with Molly. Hosea washed his hands in a bucket of water outside Arthur's tent before glancing around, eyes finally settling on me from across the camp; he beckoned me over. 

"Excuse me," I said quietly, rising to my feet, "and thanks, Abigail, for the reassurance."

She nodded at me, and I quickly made my way across camp, meeting with Hosea. He was wiping his hands on his pants and offered me a warm smile when I reached him. 

"You can go in there, now, I stitched him up and dressed his wounds. He should be okay as long as he gets a lot of rest and he steers clear of any infection. Just have to keep him still for a few days, let the body heal."

"Thank you, Hosea."

"Don't thank me, I've spent the last ten minutes making the poor man weep like a baby," he chuckled weakly. 

"It had to be done," I reassured him, patting his shoulder. "I'm sure he'll thank you for it in the end."

"I'm sure," he breathed, shaking his head wistfully before gesturing to the tent. "Go on in, he's… he's drunk, but he's been asking for you."

I took a breath before entering the tent, closing it up behind me again and taking in the sight of him. His union suit was unbuttoned, the top half pulled down and off of his arms, making way for the bandage wrapped under his arm and over his shoulder. His face glistened with sweat, his hair still clinging to him, and he looked tired. So run down and beaten up, my heart gave a sad squeeze and I sat down on the chair next to his bed. He finally looked at me then, as if he'd only just noticed my presence. 

"Princess," he hummed, flipping his wrist over where it lay on the bed, clapping his fingers against his palm twice as a prompt for me to hold it. I gave his hand a careful squeeze, then leaned down to press a kiss to the ends of his fingers where they curled over the back of my hand.

"How're you feeling?" 

"Like shit," he said bluntly, huffing a laugh. "Little better now I got a pretty face watching over me."

"You saying Hosea ain't pretty?" I joked, and Arthur laughed half-heartedly, exhaustion creeping into it.

"Whiskey helped with the pain just a touch but now the damn world's spinning," he slurred, "even more than it was before."

"You ain't gonna puke, are you?"

"I hope not," he complained, forehead pinching. Concern crept into my expression and I felt it in the way my mouth turned down. 

"Tell me if you are, alright? I'll try and… get you on your side," I said, looking down at his dressed wound. 

"Oh, I'm fine. Ain't you got a sweet bedside manner? You sound all caring," he snickered with far less energy than he probably intended and I smiled bitter-sweetly.

"Of course I care, you fool. You had me worried sick. Literally; thought I was the one about to lose my lunch earlier on, seein' you all beat up."

"They make me look that ugly?"

"Stop it, ain't what I meant."

"I know, angel face. If I can't have a sense of humour on my deathbed…" he tapered off and I scoffed. 

"You ain't on your deathbed," I frowned and he blinked up at me, a lopsided smile on his face. 

"You're so easy," he commented and I rolled my eyes at him. I had to admit, his attempts at humour brought me some comfort; every moment I spent with him, I could feel myself beginning to relax.

"And you're so sweaty, you want me to mop your forehead, freshen you up?" 

"Sure, strip me down and gimme a sponge bath if you want, like one'a those bath girls," he chuckled. I cocked a brow as I picked up the bucket of clean water Susan had left, soaking the washcloth in it and wringing out the excess. 

"What bath girls? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, you might have to elaborate," I said coyly. 

"Ahh, you know."

"I don't, never heard of such a thing."

I patted at his forehead with the cloth, wiping at the damp locks of hair there. I caught his eye and smirked, but he just stared at me, engrossed in something in my eyes. 

"God, you're a pretty girl. You know that?" He told me. 

"You're just gettin' out of telling me about these bath girls you been seeing," I mumbled, flushing. 

"I ain't seeing 'em. I only got eyes for you, princess."

I couldn't think of anything to say to that, so I changed the trajectory of our conversation. "You know, you really had me worried."

"You ain't gotta worry 'bout me."

"That's what people were telling me. I might've made a scene, think the cat's out'a the bag about us."

"Ahh, who cares?" He grunted, shrugging and then hissing. I gasped and caressed his arm, grimacing.

"Well, if you don't, I don't," I replied. 

"Can I get a kiss?" He requested and I felt good inside, hearing him say it. 

"Of course," I whispered, sitting up and leaning over him, connecting our lips in a kiss that was far lighter and gentler than usual. I didn't want to cause him any unnecessary pain, and his lip was a little swollen and busted. He hummed quietly, smiling up at me when I pulled back.

"Your kisses are the sweetest I've had," he murmured. 

"The very sweetest?"

"Mhm," he nodded, his eyes falling closed. I planted another kiss on his cheek before I carried on mopping his face, taking some fresh, cool water and lightly passing it over his cheeks, his nose, the cuts and bruises to take away any dried blood. All the while I was ever so gentle, passing the cloth over him as soft as the beat of a butterfly wing until his face was clean.

"Get some sleep," I whispered, leaning over him and stroking my hand through his hair over and over.

"Don't– don't go away jus' yet," he pleaded tiredly.

"I won't, I'll be right here till someone kicks me out," I assured him, keeping my gaze focused on his relaxed face, fingers still combing through his hair, lulling him to sleep.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Cuba felt almost cruel as Keith held his husband’s hand. The week started slowly and Lord knows he nearly killed Luis over the dinner table, but Lance had bounced back so strong from those tentative first few days, by the fourth day he he’d finally gotten his wish to breast feed their boys, crying as he did which did all sorts of things for his heart as Keith panicked at the situation, only to find they were tears of happiness because he could actually do it. Now they were on Erathus, and Lance was recovering from his first surgery, with his second the following day. Taking the Talula, Daehra, Marco, and Lucteal were all staying at The Guilded Cage... the same place Keith was supposed to be right now. Visiting hours had long since passed, but no one had the heart to kick him out, though maybe they didn’t care he was there as it meant someone was watching Lance and his vitals carefully. The injection they’d given his husband to numb below the waist had triggered a seizure. When he’d come too, the situation had been explained to him carefully, to both of them really, by doctor that’d been Lance’s obstetrician. Technically she’d referred his case on to a close colleague, assisting where she could on providing pertinent information of Lance’s biology and the procedures they’d carried out on him before. The slow release capsule that’d been implanted should have lasted longer than it had, Lance’s quintessence burning through the capsule at an accelerated rate during the birth. Those were her words, but given she hadn’t actually been there she could only work on theory. Lance had been pretty out of it, out of it enough to sob and beg Keith not to let them put something in his head. Now his husband was sitting there with a neat dressing over the small site where they’d attached some kind of electrical sensor that would essentially map the damage in Lance’s brain in a way ordinary tests couldn’t. Lance would be sleeping for the next 12 hours, meaning Keith could have left if he’d wanted and returned before Lance even knew he’d gone... but there was absolutely no way he was leaving his husband. He didn’t care if the staff remembered Lance from his previous visits. He didn’t care if Lance told him he should rest during the procedure. They’d quiznakking drilled into his husband’s goddamn head. He wasn’t moving. He hadn’t received Lance’s permission for the procedure. He’d acted on his own, knowing they couldn’t do anything about the tissue that may or may not have been removed, and that most probably they couldn’t do anything about the scarring without the chance of causing death, or at least permanent brain damage. His penance was to sit and watch. To stay by his husband side until he woke. Their twins were in the care of Marco... Keith almost snorting as he remembered the way Lance had completely overreacted to the news of Daehra and Marco dating. Yeah. His husband was a complete dork, and he’d never grow tired of it.

It’d come about the second day of their trip after Jorge and Lance had spoken. Naturally Keith and Miriam had kept their distance... In other words, Keith had stayed in the kitchen for all of 5 minutes, which he was exceptional proud of and was no easy feat, before going to rush off to find Lance. Catching his arm before he could go marching into the living room, Miriam had urged him not to interrupt. The wait had been even worse as they stood by the stairs. When Jorge had seen the pair of them spying towards the living room he’d laughed softly. The man’s large and weathered hand ruffling his hand as he wrapped an arm around Miriam’s shoulders. The contents of the conversation was a secret, though Jorge did say he’d been promised a trip out to the shack and that Lance could really use some time with their sons. With Miriam’s help, both boys were brought to where Lance was curled up in the corner of the sofa, Keith, once again parent of the year, all but shoving Hunter into Lance’s hold. Maybe wasn’t exactly shoving, but there was a slightly unnecessary amount of fake bossiness as he “made” Lance take Hunter. Lance’s best interests were in mind, his husband needed cuddle time and if offered he’d probably over think everything, and with his hearing far better than the average human’s, Keith may have heard some of Lance’s conversation with his father.

Taking the morning slow, Lance was too busy holding his son to fret. The Cuban seemed to have all but forgotten that Luis and Rachel was scheduled to visit. When they had arrived, Rachel had been weirdly... nice? to the point she seemed far too overjoyed to meet her nephews. Luis had had a smile on his face, congratulating them both... yet... He hadn’t brought his own three kids to meet the twins. He’d come without Lisa, then explained it away as they’d be coming later. That was Luis’s first mistake. His second had been when they’d moved into the kitchen for lunch. Miriam had cooked her heart out, leaving barely any space between the table full of delicious dishes. Fussing over Hunter, Lance ignored the food in front of him, Keith knew this would happen. It was why he’d taken their son during breakfast with the hopes Lance would eat. Not wanting to make a fuss or turn things into a big deal, Keith had taken Lance’s plate and begun serving his husband, skipping everything that clearly contained tomatoes and potatoes as he didn’t know how allergies that formed during pregnancy worked. Mami had a lot of mouths to feed, and though she’d made an attempt, Keith ended up placing a small pile of salad on his husband plate with a little bit off some meat thing. In an act of solidarity, he’d filled his plate similarly, ignoring how good everything looked.

This would have been fine. Everything was prepared and Lance would have been able to handle stabbing things with his fork. But Luis... Luis had to fuck it right up. Either being a dick, or trying too hard, Luis pushed his chair back and took Lance’s plate in his hand. Loading it up with a little bit of everything, the cherry on the top was Luis laughing at them both and stating “Lance looked far too thin”. Placing the plate back down, Lance bit his bottom lip, the table falling awkwardly quiet as his husband’s scent began to turn. Leaning in, Keith resisted the urge to nuzzle Lance’s cheek

“Babe, we can just swap plates”

“I can’t eat this...”

“I know. It’s alright”

Swapping plates drew Mami’s attention, even as Keith picked up his cutlery with the hopes of relaxing Lance’s nerves by eating

“Is everything alright?”

Luis answered for them, Keith’s cheeks burning as he did

“Keith’s not letting Lance eat. No wonder he looks so sickly. He needs the calories”

Miriam cast a glance to Jorge who gave a nod, before she continued talking

“Keith, Mijo. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Mami. It’s all sorted”

“No, it’s not alright. I filled that plate for Lance’s sake”

Lance flinched as if he’d been slapped, before hiding his face against Hunter’s beanie

“Lance is still recovering”

Lance was right there. Keith loathed these kind of conversations, but Luis was being everything Lance feared he would be. Keith wasn’t sure why, but the man now seemed to also dislike him. It wasn’t his fault Lance had allergies, nor was it Lance’s, yet he didn’t feel he had to explain their actions. Having been on a liquid diet more of the food would probably be too rich to sit comfortably in his husband’s stomach. Forcing Lance to eat more than he could handle would only eventuate with Lance feeling guilty as he threw up.

“Whoa. No need to snap at me. I’m concerned about how ill my baby brother looks”

Keith wasn’t aware that he had snapped. He’d thought he’d explained it away in his normal tone

“That’s because he’s recovering”

“Then he needs to eat and build his strength. He has so many options, but you’re controlling his diet. Lance would never choose a salad first without filling his plate with sides”

Jorge cleared his throat, Luis looking to his father

“You’re not agreeing with this are you? He’s treating Lance like a pet! He can make his own decisions”

“Luis. That’s enough”

The three words clearly got under Luis skin. Keith was gripping his knife so hard that he’d begun to bend the handle. Though it was socially unacceptable, the Half-Galra once again felt the urge to smack Luis. He had no right to upset Lance like this. Coming home had been a lot as it was. Mami was supposed to talk to Luis and Rachel about Lance

“First he gets our Lance pregnant. My little brother, pregnant! Now Lance is sitting here looking as if he hasn’t had a good meal in the last 6 months, with him controlling what he eats. I thought Keith was good for him, but now I’m not so sure. How are you not worried?!”

“I can’t eat this!”

Pushed over, Lance snapped. Keith could take the insults pushed in his face. He was doing everything he could to be a good husband to his partner. He has the love of Miriam and Jorge, but more importantly he had Lance’s trust. Pushing his chair back, Lance turned to Miriam for backup

“What do you mean you can’t eat this? You’ve been eating this all your life. There was no need to swap plates. We are not going through this again. You’re not skipping meals while you’re living under this roof!”

“I wasn’t skipping! I’m allergic! Don’t you talk to Keith like this. I don’t care if you hate me and consider me a freak! But don’t hate Keith, or our sons! I hate it when you do this, you’re not papi! Keith was trying to make sure I wouldn’t get sick. Even if he was controlling what I ate, I wouldn’t mind because he’s my husband and my faith is in him! Shhhh.... shhh, daddy’s sorry. Daddy’s sorry for yelling”

Hunter wailed, Lance hushing him as Miriam climbed from her seat

“What do you mean you’re allergic? Why did no one tell me he has allergies now?”

Probably because Luis wasn’t Jorge. He might be Lance’s older brother, but he was definitely not his father. Coming over, Miriam placed her hand on Lance’s left shoulder

“This is not how we behave at the dinner table. Keith, dear. Thank you, with so many mouths, I fear it slipped my mind entirely. Lance, Mijo, you eat what you can. Don’t go making yourself sick because you feel you have to. Luis, we do not treat our guests like this. We do not treat our family like this. Now, I want a word with you. And Rachel, you stop laughing at brother. Both of you can do the dishes”

Rachel spluttered, Marco opened his mouth only to be cut down by Mami’s narrowing eyes. Closing his mouth, his brother-in-law wasn’t stupid enough to earn himself dish duty like his other two siblings.

Luis was red face when returned, they’d all heard him and Mami fighting over Lance. Luis seemed as if he was only seeing Lance as he had been. He yelled because he cared too much. He yelled because he didn’t understand Lance any longer. Their family Christmas had been nearly a year ago now, and so very much had changed. As Luis sulked over your his seat, Keith still felt the urge to punch him. Uncharacteristically, Rachel had held her tongue over Luis being taken off to be lectured, only complaining to Marco that it wasn’t fair she was the one on dish duty and he wasn’t. Daehra was quick to then volunteer Marco for dish duty.

[jamlally]

Reindeer Games

This was written for the 25 days of Christmas Challenge that is hosted by  @panicfob .  The Day 15 Challenge prompt was Reindeer

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Tony Stark x OFC (Belle Porter), Loki

Summary: It can’t be Christmas without a Reindeer

The darkly handsome man that strode across the room had SHIELD Agents scrambling, had Nick Fury pilling a side arm that she hadn’t seen, and had Tony absolutely furious

“You think that I came here for this ….” The way he looked around was somewhat disdainful “party of yours.  You think too highly of yourself Stark, on Asguard this party would be put to shame.  A mere Childs entertainment, nothing more”. 

“Well don’t let me the one to stop you leaving” Tony was tense in a way Belle hadn’t seen before and looking around the room, it seemed that everyone else was as well.  It was he thought, understandable as where ever this man went trouble seemed to follow in his footsteps

“Ah the man out of time and his one armed friend.  I’’m afraid that I have no desire to stand too close you just now”. 

In just seconds Belle watched as Steve and Bucky tried to approach fro behind Loki, only to have the god of mischief simply disappear - the slight breeze by her shoulder gave her a moments pause before she pivoted slowly on her heel

“But this morsel is far more to my taste.  You even dressed her in my colors, a gift perhaps?”

“Move away NOW!” Tony’s voice left no room for debate “FRIDAY initiate lockdown”

Things were starting to spiral out of control but Belle didn’t move, there was something about the way the Asguardian looked at her that reminded her of a snake looking for dinner. He sotted there looking all pretty and relaxed, one elbow on the bar, but his eyes were fixed on her in such a way that she had the feeling that one wrong move and he would strike. Squaring her shoulders she gave the man a small tense smile

“I’m afraid that any matching in our outfits tonight is simply a coincidence, but seeing as you are here can I get you a drink Mr Odinson?”

“It’s Laufeyson actually”

“Ah my apologies Mr Laufeyson.  So a drink?” Belle may not have met the man before but she had read all about him in the files they held.  The one thing she had been able to pull from the files was that he didn’t respond well to aggression 

“Hmm that may help pass the time, why don’t you choose something Miss…” He smiled showing slightly too many teeth 

“It’s Agent actually - Agent Porter” Belle looked over at the bar tender “Please get Mr Laufeyson a glass of the best Scotch we have”  She heard Tony scoff a little but didn’t turn around - her brain was very clear that you didn’t turn your back on the predator in the room 

“Oh how disappointing you’re an Agent.  I didn’t know that they came as pretty as you.  You really waste your time with these people.  Someone as pretty as you could happily wait on Kings in Asguards halls”

Belle let out a snort “I think that I will need to pass, as much fun as I am sure it is to wait on Kings I’d much rather spend my time telling Hero’s what to do”

Her response had Loki raising an eyebrow and she was fairy sure she heard Natasha snort.  

“Now” she slid the drink over that the bartender had pushed her way “As much as we appreciate the dramatic entrance care to share with the class why you’re here?”

Loki sipped at the drink before taking a larger swallow and gesturing for more “I need to speak with my brother, and for some god awful Eason that only he understands he will insist on coming here and socializing with you mortals”. The disdaining tone was back “He goes ff galavanting promising wonderful new things to celebrate the Yule but thus far he has shown us nothing! “

“You know we have phones you could just have called “ Tony snarked at the God as he wrapped his arm around Belle’s waist,  He wasn’t happy that she stood so close to the lunatic 

“We don’t have such a reliance on your frail human technology in our halls.  Thor should be with his people ensuring the we can have a fruitful spring, not galavanting around with all this sparkle.  I don’t even understand what the sparkle is, but it seems to get on everything “  his nose wrinkled and Belle gave a small giggle before resting her hand on Tony’s forearm

“The glitter can be a little frustrating but it does make things shine so beautifully and I think sometimes that we like it because in the dark of the winter, when everything is fallow we look for something to bring us light”

Loki snorted “There is much to be afraid of in the dark, but darkness comes no matter the season Agent Porter.  Tricking yourself into believing that the darkness isn’t there doesn’t keep bad things away” he was, she thought, sounding melancholy “You are all so far removed from how life was you forget that the cold is needed to allow the earth time to heal from all it gave over the rest of the year to sustain you, to fill your bellies and give fuel for your fires”

Belle watched as Loki peered into his glass lost in what ever thoughts he had.

“So you celebrate Yule on Asguard then?”

“What, oh yes, there are many grand parties and we give thanks for the good year we have had.  It os a very grand thing,  We celebrate the season of the land being fallow as it builds its energy.  Usually the King would lead the celebrations but he is” Loki gestured widely with is arms “No where to be found, and that is somewhat problematic”

“What’s the  matter, not man enough to manage without your brother” Fury was obviously pissed off but antagonizing a God seemed like a bad idea 

“Don’t show your lack of vision so readily Director” Loki’s tone was scathing “My brother took on the mantle of King and as such he has duties to perform.  I would more than happily taken on the role but it was not mine to have, that has been made more than clear. That is not actually of import.  The start of the Yule celebrations requires my brother to be there to symbolize the spark of life that comes after Yule when the land starts to come back to life.  He is the only one who can perform the task and yet he isn’t there and the people become restless”

“Forgive me Mr Laufeyson but why does Thor need to be there for that?  He is the god of Thunder…. Oh is it because the lightening is the spark?”

Loki laughed “Close but not quite.  Yes my brother is God of Thunder but that is not his only title - of course he doesn’t like to shout so much about the other one.  My dear brother is also a god of fertility and the strike he brings down brings with it the power for a bountiful year.”

Belle heard the snickers of the others and felt Tony smile his lips hidden against her neck

“Ah I understand.  It makes sense then that you would be brothers, two sides of the same coin”

“I am nothing like my brother Agent Porter”

“Maybe not identical but without the pair of you there wouldn’t be life.  You are the winters bite and he is the first flash of life”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose as Loki brought all of his attention to her.  His eyes were dark and calculating and it seemed that he was assessing her in a new light

“Release the woman Stark.  If I wanted to take her from you I would have done so already.  Agent Porter come and share a drink with me.  Stark see if you can find my brother” 

Belle turned and kissed Tony gently leaning in to speak softly in his ear “It’s fine Tony, I will stay here - you see if FRIDAY can track down Thor”

She moved to take the seat next to Loki “Can you please refill Mr Laufeyson’s glass and I’ll have a Peppermint White Russian, thank you” She turned to Loki “So tell me more about your Yule celebrations”

Loki flirted and laughed with Belle and Tony felt his frustration rise.  The Asguardian was a perennial pain in his ass and now here he was ruining his plans for the night.  

“Care to tell me what the hell is happening “ Fury glared through his one eye at Tony

“Well right now Im trying to track down a large muscled God so that he can take his pain in the ass younger brother home because it turns out the God of Thunder is also the god of babies, who knew, and to add to the joy he’s currently drinking my best scotch with my girl.  Merry fucking Christmas to me.  Now I am pretty sure you don’t know where Thor is, so why don’t you let me get on with my work while you make sure that your Agents don’t do something stupid that results in people getting hurt”

“Agent Porter isn’t cleared for dealing with threats of Loki’s level”

Tony rolled his eyes in annoyance “Yet here she is dealing with precisely that threat.  She deals with God’s, Super soldiers, Spy’s and  my ass on a daily basis.  Reindeer games doesn’t stand a chance now if we’re done …” Tony walked away “FRIDAY, have the Hawk keep an eye on Fury - I don’t want him causing issues “

Loki was actually a lot of fun to hang out with.  Belle made sure to keep the drink following for him, while nursing along her own.  The Asguardian was in the middle of telling her a story about  the time he had changed into a snake to scare his brother when another booming voice broke the tense peace.

“Brother! What brings you here?  Is all well at home?”

Loki rolled his eyes before leading closer to Belle “The man has never  been capable of entering a room without making a fuss”. 

Belle laughed, It was true you always knew when Thor was in a room 

“Things progress as planned, but our people grow nervous that their King is not present.  They fear that the Yule rights will not be completed”

“Ah brother they worry for no reason.  I have learnt many things while here.  I have skated on blades and have partaken in many of the festive activities.  My Lady Belle, I thank you for keeping my brother company” Thor reached out and lifted Belle’s hand to his mouth for a kiss

“Of course Thor is was my pleasure.  Mr Laufeyson, thank you for your company”. She nodded to the Gods as she stood. 

Loki rose to his feet, copying his brother and kissing the back of her hand “Agent Porter, it was a pleasure.  Perhaps we will talk again in the future”

“That seems unlikely Reindeer Games. Thor - if you could make sure your brother gets home safely.  Agent Porter and I have things to be getting with”. Tony took Belle’s hand and lead her away 

“Well that was an unexpected turn of events.  Tell me what did you spend nearly 2 hours talking to the God of mischief about?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that too” Fury broke in heading over to the couple 

“We spoke about the traditions on Asguard and Loki told me stories from when he and Thor grew up.  It was actually very entertaining, you know I think he was lonely”

“Lonely?” Fury scoffed at the idea

“Yes lonely.  He feels out of place and when his brother isn’t there I think as much as they don’t get on he misses him.  If he meant to cause trouble then he could have done so without any problem.  He didn’t through - he just wanted to talk and spend time with someone”

Tony looked back at the brothers who both seemed pleased to be with each other.  Maybe Belle was right.  He knew that at his lowest people would have called him an asshole and he would have deserved it, was Loki in the same boat.

“Well I suppose it wouldn’t be Christmas without reindeer, now you and I have a plan to enact my lady and I think you’ve had your drink so now we can move onto other things”

Belle laughed, head thrown back as Tony pulled her from the room.