#but strangely enough a few years ago there was a commotion in the hall of my current apartment building

[yuureimajo]

This reminded me of something that happened to me years ago, was going to just ramble about it in tags but it's too long. It's a bit of a tangent from the original point but it is about a time I felt trapped and intimidated in my own house by a man who I think found it all pretty amusing. When I was about 13 we lived on the top floor of a pretty big house in one of the fancier neighborhoods of my hometown. The street was a steep uphill climb and didn't lead anywhere else, just looped around to head back into downtown, so this was a pretty quiet and private neighborhood and felt pretty safe overall. So one day someone rang our doorbell while I was home alone after school and I went to answer it without much of a thought. In fact my only thought was that it was probably the JWs again. Anyway I open the door and there's this older teenage guy - probably 17 or 18 - whom I'd never seen before, just standing there looking at me with a really weird expression. Hooded eyes, not blinking much, big dopey smile. I was like ''Um … hello?'' and he was like ''Heyyy :)'' and started to come forward like he was going to enter the house. I immediately shut the door, locked it and looked through the peephole (yes, I should have done so in the first place) and he leaned toward it and waved like he knew I was watching him, then stepped off the porch and out of view. I went to the living room window and peeked around the curtains to watch him walk down the driveway and away, but he didn't; he turned into the front yard, and I just knew he was going to try the windows at the side of the house. I ran to my mom's room to make sure her window was locked but I didn't see him, so I booked it to the kitchen just in time to see him pushing at the frame. I checked to make sure it was locked too, and that the piece of wood we put in the track was there. He could see me and he just kept smiling that stupid-ass smile the whole time. Once it was obvious he wasn't getting in that window, he started walking again, now toward the back of the house. The backyard was for the downstairs occupants, but it had a staircase up to our deck, which could be accessed by a sliding glass door back in the living room. I wasn't sure he was going to come up there but I went to check the lock anyway. Then I just stood there looking for him, hoping to see him just wandering off down the lane at the back of the houses. But after several minutes I didn't see him or hear him coming up the steps. While I was pretty scared I was also pissed off, so for some stupid reason I thought I would go out on the deck to check that he was gone or yell at him if he wasn't. I had my hand on the sliding door handle, about to unlock it, and suddenly the guy sort of slow-turned from where he'd been standing against the side of the house, where I hadn't been able to see him, and stood there in front of the sliding doors, still with that dopey look on his face, staring at me as he put his hand on the outside handle and started tugging it like he expected it to open. Somehow that was the moment that made me go "Oh, I'm in actual danger," so I backed away from the door, grabbed the phone, and ran to the hallway where I could see/hear if any of the doors or windows opened, but he couldn't see me. I don't really remember what happened for the next little while. I assume I called my mom but I don't actually recall talking to her. I do remember peeking around the wall at the sliding door at some point and noticing that the guy was gone but also realizing that he could be lurking around the house anywhere. Thankfully I never saw that freak again. But I also never felt safe in that house's living room again; the windows and sliding door stressed me out way too much, I always felt like I was being watched. So many women and girls have stories like this. This isn't even the only one I have. Men pull BS like this all the time for their own gain or amusement and we're forced into hypervigilance. But no please, men, tell us all about how it's not a "gendered issue". Clearly you know better.

A guy just came to my house while I was home alone to ask if I was single why are men like this

[dont-blame-it-on-the-kids]

A Little Less of a Family Reunion

(Rohan is about 7 and meets Jinora in his dreams)

Kidnapped au

“Whoah! Why do you have tattoos like that?” Rohan asked the older girl unsure why she would host the tattooed aunt Lin said that his father and grandfather had for being good airbenders.

“My arrows? I got them when I became a master airbender.” She answered kindly.

“Woah! How long ago did you get them?” He asked excitedly. He’s seen this spirit before in his dreams. He imagined she was a wise old airbender from when his grandfather was younger, someone sent to help him and Lin when they needed her.

“About six years ago now.” She mused, thinking it over. “I was eleven when I achieved mastery of the element air. These are an old air nation tradition.” She started to go into a deeper explanation and Rohan sat in the grass and smiled as he listened to her. Ever since he was little he would have these vivid dreams in this strange place. Creatures he’s never heard of scuttled by and he hoped to see the funny old man again, but this girl was so smart and kind.

“But that's enough about ancient times, how did you get into the spirit realm?”

“Spirit realm? I’m asleepin’ this is my dream.” He shook his head.

“No, this is the spirit realm, you must be meditating.” The older girl frowned.

“I do that sometimes! But I sleepin now.” He assured her.

The older girl looked at him for a moment and he could see she was deep in thought.

“What’s your name?” She asked after a silent few seconds.

“I’m usually called Yuka but Auntie Lin calls me Rohan.” He smiled and held out his hand to her. “What’s your name?”

“I-I’m Jinora.” She looked at him shocked and stood frozen for a moment as he saw tears fill her eyes.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Rohan said quickly, retracting his hand as he thought he did something wrong. Jinora fell to her knees and pulled him into a tight hug.

“No, no, don't be sorry. Please- take my hand and let me see where you are.” She said holding onto him like he would fade away any moment.

Rohan nodded. “I can show you my room!” He said excitedly and held Jinora’s hand as he headed back to the spot he knew he could come and go through.

Rohan woke with a yawn and was excited to see a blue and green glowing figure of the girl next to him in the dark room.

“I’ll show you my art! Aunt Lin taught me to color.” He said excitedly and held her hand as he turned the light on and showed her around the room.

“That’s very nice Rohan, can you show me outside?”

The boy tensed.

“No, we’re not allowed outside without Mr. Amon.” He said quietly now. Jinora's heart sank. Amon was alive and had been holding onto Rohan all this time.

A commotion of something hitting the floor, a door opened and closed down the hall.

“You have to go!” Rohan said quickly. Trying to push Jinora into a hiding spot. He quickly turned the light out and hid under his covers.

Jinora heard footsteps coming up to the room and quickly went straight up to see where she was exactly.

The door opened quietly to Rohan's room and Lin came in.

“Little man? Did I hear you talking in here?” She asked gently.

Rohan sat up and nodded. “I was showing the girl from the dreams the colors I did.” He explained.

Lin nodded. “Okay, let’s get back to bed now.” She said, keeping her voice quiet. She had just been shoved from the bed and told to shut him up. Lin moved to tuck Rohan into bed when he reached up to hug her again.

“She’s really nice.” He yawned wide and closed his eyes. “And she had tattoos like you said daddy and grampy Aang had.”

Tears filled Lin’s eyes as he fell asleep. Could he have been seeing past avatars in his sleep? Were they visiting him to help guide him without any masters to teach him? She smiled sadly at the thought and gently kissed his forehead. “You get some sleep. I’ll hear all about her in the morning.” She assured him.

Rohan nodded and was quickly back to sleep.

[duhdumb89]

A Forbidden Happiness | Chapter 27

The heavy weight on Jaiyi's chest had little to do with her cold. A few days ago, Molan slipped into her bedroom and told her the news.

The Emperor was releasing Jiang pin.

The maid who poisoned Xiang gui ren made a decent effort to escape, hiding in a commode cart exiting the city. An eagle-eyed visitor noticed the eunuch's strange behavior and implored a nearby guard to investigate. The Emperor was so grateful that he offered the visitor a reward. The visitor just happened to be Jiang pin's cousin. He asked that she be rewarded in his stead. The cousin had asked for this reward publicly, so The Emperor couldn't deny it, lest he look fickle.

Jiayi clenched the blankets around her shoulders. It was too convenient. But what could Jiayi say about it? Everyone would assume that Jiang pin was blessed. Everything Xiang gui ren did to lock Jiang pin away was going down the drain. And after her arrest, Jiang pin probably wouldn't waste any time getting revenge. Luckily, they would be on an even playing ground again after the new year thanks to Xiang gui ren's promotion. As happy as she was for her mistress, the promotion ceremony tied Jiayi's stomach in knots.

The Emperor cared very much about blessings and never promoted one person at a time, be it a minister or a concubine, which meant that Xiang gui ren wouldn't be alone. Jiayi didn't have to be a scholar to know that The Empress Dowager would try to tack her onto the list. She mentioned it to Xiang gui ren, but her mistress wasn't worried at all.

"We'll have to work together," said Xiang gui ren, "I'll gently persuade His Majesty away from the idea, but it won't do much if he doesn't think about you. You must make him hate you as much as you hate him,"

"I don't–"

Xiang gui ren held up a hand, "As much as I love His Majesty, I would be as stupid as everyone thinks I am to ask you to love him as well,"

Xiang gui ren's advice was sound, but Jiayi was at a loss on how to hold up her end. If she went too far, The Emperor would simply execute her; if she didn't go far enough, she'd get a royal edict very soon.

What could she do to ruin herself in The Emperor's eyes?

"Jiayi,"

Jiayi sat up on the bed and looked around the empty room.

"Jaiyi!" The voice hissed again, "Over here,"

The voice was coming from the window by her bed. Jiayi picked up the pole they used to prop the windows open and crept closer. Who was it? No one could be foolish enough to try to attack Xiang gui ren so soon after the first attempt, right?

She cracked the window and peered down.

"Who is it?" She asked.

"After all this time, you still can't tell?"

Jiayi lowered the stick, "Prince Han?" She pushed the window open in full.

"Take this,"

He pressed a bucket of deep black charcoal into her hander before climbing through. Prince Han dusted the snow off of his shoulders.

"My lord, what are you doing here? What if someone sees you?"

"Don't worry," he replied, taking the coal from her, "I seemed to have lost my jinbu* around here during the commotion. Sang'er is outside in the hall looking for it,"

Prince Han opened the softly smoldering brazier near Jiayi's bed. As he grabbed the tongs to top it off with the charcoal he brought, Jiayi stopped him.

"Is that hong lou tan?† My lord, you can't! His Majesty wouldn't even bend the rules for Xiang gui ren. If someone finds out–"

Prince Han smiled, "Finds out what? That I rewarded Yiqiang's favorite maid with coals to keep her warm?" he snorted, "I'd like to see what they'd do. Why are you standing around in your state? Get back in bed,"

Jiayi sat back down and curled her blankets over her shoulders. The afternoon light slanted into the room and warmed Prince Han's skin in a way that should only be reserved for a God. His eyebrows furrowed delicately as he fussed with the coals. Looking at him now, Jiayi realized that the delicate dip in Prince Han's upper lip matched The Emperor's exactly. Thoughts of The Empress Dowager's intentions returned to her and chilled her more than the breeze coming from the opened window.

A hand on her shoulder startled her. Prince Han's face was closer to hers than it had ever been as he leaned down to look at her.

"Are you cold?" He pulled the window closed, "Better?"

Before Jiayi could make herself answer him, Prince Han grabbed her hands. His calloused fingers caressed her skin.

"You're still freezing," He said.

Jiayi reluctantly pulled her fingers away and hid them under her blanket. She shook her head, "It's just my cold,"

Prince Han tucked his hands behind his back, "Right. Did the Imperial Hospital send new medication for you?"

"Yes. Xiang gui ren is getting better every day,"

"What about you? How good is the medicine if you're still so sick? Was His Majesty not clear enough to send Chengqiangong the best medicine? How are they still so neglectful?"

To see Prince Han become so passionate on her behalf did something to Jiayi that she didn't dare dwell on.

"Rest assured, my lord, I feel much better than before,"

"That's good. Hurry up and get well, then. If Yiqiang complains about not playing with you any louder, my ears will bleed,"

Jiayi smiled, "I'll do my best, my lord,"

"This servant wishes Her Highness De gui fei peace!"

Jiayi's head snapped to the door where Sang'er's voice boomed through. De gui fei was right outside. Prince Han shot an equally panicked look at Jiayi before wrenching the window open. Jiayi held his waist as he lifted a leg over the windowsill. As his legs hit the ground, the bedroom door opened.

"What are you doing?"

Jaiyi turned and greeted De gui fei, "It was a little warm, Your Highness,"

Jiayi shut the window and crawled back into bed. De gui fei's maid brought a chair to Jiayi's bedside, and she took a seat. The black silks of her clothes made her look especially severe. The silver and gold butterfly embroidery and white fur didn't do a thing to soften her.

"The Empress Dowager sent this to you,"

De gui fei's maid placed a gold and kingfisher phoenix hairpin on the bedside table.

Jiayi's mouth dried at the sight of it. A phoenix? For her? If The Empress found out about this...

"What," De gui fei said, "You don't like it?"

"The Empress Dowager is very generous. A lowly person like me–"

"Enough. Meimei might believe this little act you've put on, but like I said, I've tired of it,"

"Your Highness, I don't know what you mean,"

De gui fei rose, "I've been in this place longer than you've been alive. Don't think having The Empress Dowager at your back will give you a leg up. Meimei may tolerate a maid that crawls into The Emperor's bed, but I won't."

---

Prince Han was becoming a problem.

Shen huang gui fei never really paid attention to him when she married His Majesty all those years ago. He was a bastard child that The Empress forced His Majesty to take in. She was polite to him because His Majesty favored him as a firstborn son. Now, she was kicking herself for not cajoling him to her side all those years ago. Now, he was The Empress' perfect little soldier. When he spoke on behalf of Xiang gui ren's maid, Shen huang gui fei thought him an annoyance.

Now, he needed to be put down.

The Empress Dowager was more than receptive to her suggestion after she'd finished berating Shen huang gui fei for allowing Xiang gui ren to be promoted at all. The Empress Dowager was right; Shen huang gui fei had been sloppy, but she couldn't help it. The Empress had twisted the knife this time. Her life was emptier than it had ever been without Huabao. She spent her days thinking about Huabao and her nights shaking at the thought of never seeing her only child in the flesh again. How was she faring the Mongolian winter? Was she treated like a princess of the Great Qing? Could her delicate stomach tolerate their barbaric food? Shen huang gui fei was unmoored and at sea without her daughter. It had taken her so long to be a mother, and Shen huang gui fei wasn't sure she would become one again at her age.

And yet, that whore plucked a child out of the gutter and became an Imperial Concubine from it. It made her want to rip off her skin when The Emperor praised and bragged about what a good mother Xiang gui ren was. And how deep the mother-son bond was between her and Yiqiang. It was unfair. Shen huang gui fei bled and cried for each and every child just to have her only one abounded in the wilderness. But Xiang gui ren is handed one, a son no less, by flashing a smile. Shen haung gui fei wanted to wrap her hands around that woman's neck and squeeze. The Emperor was so enamored with her that he just brushed off the rumors Shen huang gui fei had sprinkled throughout the Forbidden City. It was madness. She couldn't think of it any longer.

"Jingse, bring my cape. I want to stroll in the Imperial garden,"

Jingse looked up from the brazier she was tending, "Your Highness, there was heavy snow last night. It wouldn't be safe for the eunuchs to carry you there,"

"I'll walk,"

"Your Highness–"

Shen huang fei glared at her to stop her prattling.

Jingse returned with her heaviest fur-lined cape while A'Fang pressed a hand warmer into her palms. The streets were deserted of even the servants when Shen huang gui fei stepped out. It was for the best. She wasn't in the mood to make small talk.

When the only sound for quite some time was the crunching of the snow beneath their feet, Jingse looked up at her.

"Your Highness, is something wrong?"

"The garden and my palace have so much in common these days. Both are empty,"

"We'll find a way to bring First Princess back, Your Highness," said Jingse.

"The Empress can't keep her away from you forever now that you have Jiang pin to assist you again," said A'Fang, "And An pin,"

Jingse snorted, "An pin. What good is that thing? Her Highness only keeps her around to make amends,"

"What amends?" Said A'Fang, "An pin shouldn't have been so greedy during her pregnancy. That's what she gets for eating the food Her Highness prepared for Mu pin,"

"Enough," said Shen huang gui fei, "Speak like that again, and I'll have you flogged,"

---

An pin held her breath as Shen huang gui fei walked away. She pressed her hand to her stomach. Perhaps she had gone crazy. Perhaps she was hearing things. It couldn't be true.

"It's strange," An chang zai said, rubbing her swollen belly, "He's not moving as much as he used to,"

"Don't worry, meimei, "Mu pin said, placing a few pieces of shrimp and pork on her plate, "He's just running out of space,"

"Have some tea, meimei," said Jiang gui ren.

An pin remembered the flavor of Mu pin's food all these years later. It was unique, and no matter how much silver she gave the chefs, no one could replicate it.

"It hurts!"

An chang zai screamed as another contraction tore through her. She was so, so tired. Why wasn't the baby coming? Why was it taking so long?

"I can't do it, I can't,"

Shen huang gui fei wiped her sweat, "You can meimei, just a little more! Momo, how much longer?"

"A few more pushes, Your Highness,"

A miserable tear slid down An pin's face.

With one final push that burned more than hell ever would, An chang zai knew it was over. Her baby was born. She laughed happily.

"Let me see him,"

She then noticed the silence in the room. She grabbed Shen huang gui fei's hand, "He's so quiet. Why isn't he crying?"

"...Meimei...he,"

An chang zai pursed her lips and sat up.

"Let me see him," she whispered.

The momo frowned, her eyes sad, "My lady. You are young. You'll have many more children. Don't fret and worsen your health,"

The momo could've sliced her stomach open. It would've been kinder than those words.

An chang zai opened her shaking arms. Her son was wrapped in a dark blue blanket, making his bloodless body even more stark. He had her lips and His Majesty's stern brow. He was small, smaller than a newborn baby ought to be.

And still.

She turned to Shen huang gui fei, tears in her eyes, "Isn't he handsome, Your Highness?"

Weiwei wiped the tears from An pin's eyes, "Your Highness..."

An pin didn't know how to categorize the feelings screeching in her head. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to scream. She wanted to slit Shen huang gui fei's throat.

Instead, she slid to the ground and sobbed.

When the tears finished, An pin felt like the dead branches above her, empty and dry. She wobbled to her feet.

"Your Highness, are you alright?" Weiwei rubbed An pin's arms through her cape and blew warm air on her frigid fingers.

"Yes," said An pin, her mind whirling, "I'm fine now,"

"Really?"

An pin nodded, "Let's head back,"

Weiwei still looked worried but helped her mistress back onto the main roads.

Shen huang gui fei thought no more of An pin than she would think of a stray dog on the street. Something to make loyal with a few scraps and toss in the river when you finish.

Poor Shen huang gui forgot a cardinal rule.

When a loyal dog goes mad, it bites.

––––– *Hanging waist accessory made of jade †Luxury charcoal allocated to women titled imperial concubine and above. Technically could be granted to anyone of high favor or owned by anyone who could afford it

[ghostlywritten]

If Only I Had Stayed In The Shadows - Chapter Six

James Potter x OC

Words: 4,8k

Prologue   Chapter One   Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four 

Chapter Five

"What?"

"I'm asking you out," James stated matter-of-factly whilst I sat next to him, having a mental breakdown.

"Um, I'm not Lily, you know that, right?" I asked slowly, pondering on the possibility of Poppy overlooking a concussion that caused him to blabber nonsense. His eyes did continuously flicker over my shoulder like a madman.

"I know that," he rolled his eyes.

"Then why?"

He shrugged. "I wanna hang out with you."

I raised an eyebrow, "That's not a reason."

"Do I need a reason other than wanting to spend time with you?"

"We've been hanging out for the past months, why the sudden need to date now?"

James huffed impatiently, "Are you telling me that you don't think something is going on between us?" My eyes widened in surprise, a sense of déjà-vu hitting me when I remembered Sirius saying the same thing not long ago.

"No?" I squeaked, still in shock before I narrowed my eyes at him, "Definitely not. You are in love with Lily, remember?"

"No, I'm not," he said with a blank face, "Not anymore."

"Oh yeah? All of a sudden?"

"Yes, all of a sudden."

"I don't believe you," I shook my head, causing him to stare at me in disbelief, "You've been pining after her for years and now you want to tell me you are over her, just like that? And after her you want to go out with someone like me?" I shook my head again, "Unbelievable."

James' eyes softened, "It did not happen just like that. I've just come to realise that my affections were shallow...I don't really know her and the way she treats me is not the most lovable as you might have noticed."

I winced, her past yelling echoing in my memory, "Yeah...I have. But still, this feels like I'm gonna be a rebound and I don't really want to be the filler for anyone."

"You are not a rebound! Merlin, Cec!" James huffed, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"What? You can't blame me for being suspicious," I defended myself, "Why would you even wanna date me? Just because I'm nice to you in comparison to her?"

"Yes!" he almost exclaimed, throwing his arms up, "That's it. You are nice, incredibly so. And yet...you are still sarcastic and witty. And you make the worst jokes ever."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't know how to persuade shit but give advices that are surprisingly convincing. You have the aim of a hippogriff when it comes to spells in DADA but you still manage to throw a Quaffle through the hoops from a bloody mile away."

"Cec!" he grabbed my shoulders, completely turning me towards him, "You are full of contradictions and make no sense at all. And maybe that's exactly why I want to date you."

I wondered when he had noticed all these things about me when I said, "I don't know whether I should feel flattered that you know this much about me..." James beamed. "Or creeped out." His grin deflated into a pout, "The first please. I'm usually not observant."

"Please, you are a Seeker and Quidditch Captain. You are nothing but observant," I retaliated.

"Touché," he responded with a shrug, "So, what do you say?"

"Say to what?"

"Say to going out with me, Cec!" he exclaimed impatiently.

"Oh, that..." I sighed, trying to ignore the way my racing heart shouted at me to say 'yes' already. After all, he would be the first to date me and possibly become my first boyfriend, too. Which was basically everything I had been missing to complete the whole adolescent experience. Besides, I really had no reason to not agree on a date; he was good-looking, kind if he wanted to be, charming even teachers like McGonagall (her twinkling eyes ain't gonna lie) aaaand he was good-looking. I could say 'yes' just because of this and to finally receive my first kiss but a churning in my stomach - my gut instinct - told me it was a bad idea.

"Cecily," James called me out of my thoughts and I shook my head slightly, "Talk to me. What's holding you back?"

"I'm not really sure myself," I said slowly, "Let me think about it, alright?" James nodded, "I'll be patient."

The next morning...

"ARE YOU GONNA SAY YES OR NO?" James yelled from across the hallway and I cringed at the number of heads that turned at the commotion, halting in their way towards the Great Hall for breakfast. I waved at Alice and Marlene to go ahead as I turned to face the messy-haired boy jogging up to me.

"So much for being patient, eh?" I commented, my cheeks still red from the attention around us.

James huffed, "How much can someone think about something this easy?"

"It's not easy," I protested lightly though 80 percent of me was already convinced to say 'yes', "It's a huge thing for me."

"It's not a huge thing," James rolled his eyes and I almost pouted at the sting in my chest, "Not?"

"No, it's just one date. No big deal, eh?" he stated.

"Well, I've never been to one," I pointed out quite shyly, embarrassment colouring my cheeks. Better tell him I was a freak at the beginning when he had the chance to still run away.

James shrugged, "Me neither." My eyes bulged, causing him to blink. "What?"

"You? Never on a date? You?" I spluttered in shock.

The dark-haired boy raised an eyebrow, "You've been here the past few years, right? Has Evans ever said yes to me?"

"No, but...," I trailed off. I had thought he would have at least tried dating besides wanting Lily. "Why have you never tried dating anyone else before?"

"Why would I if I'm not interested in them?" he asked back though cringing right after his words. I looked at him weirdly, "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," he replied hastily, regaining his composure, "So what do you say?"

"You haven't really given me a lot of time," I pointed out and he moaned in despair, "Why does no one want to go out with me?"

"It's not that," I relented, giving him a pitiful look, "It's just I think no one can overlook the fact that you've been in love with someone for almost your entire school career. For it to just disappear is strange."

James breathed in deeply, straightening up, "Believe me when I say I've...wasted enough of time thinking about it. And yes, it was hard giving up on her but on the other hand it's not because she is never been mine to begin with."

I looked at him almost sadly. "And don't give me that pitying look," he accused, pointing at my face, "I'm really done with her. And I want to start fresh. So...will you go out with me?" he asked with a sigh as if already expecting me to say no.

Regarding him quietly, I decided to not reply to it directly, "Come on, let's go eat breakfast." James blinked. "You can't expect me to answer on an empty stomach now, can you?"

"You need food to make a decision?" he asked with a judging look as he fell into step beside me and I shrugged, "I love food. Now you know what to do if we go on a date." I could practically see the reels turning in his head and pinpoint the exact moment he realised what I had said as his face started to split into a wide grin.

"This is how it feels when someone says yes?" he wondered, his chocolate brown eyes shining like a kid.

"I said if, Potter," I replied but he seemed to be in another world already, muttering to himself on how he could finally ask Padfoot for some dating advice, "I said if-"

"If means yes," he beamed, skipping away with a fist pump whilst I shook my head in confusion. "No, it doesn't?"

"Yes, it does!" he yelled over his back, already far ahead as I stood rooted in my spot.

Was I going on a date with Potter now?

Apparently, I was. Or at least, the whole school seemed to think so. After History of Magic the whispers about James' dating a mystery girl roamed the halls and everyone tried to figure out who Cecily Grant was.

I rolled my eyes, I really seemed to have been a nobody in this school despite playing Quidditch and being friends with the popular girls of my year. That changed now after someone started spilling what had just - not actually - been decided earlier this morning.

"Is it true?" Marlene asked in Potions as I sat down next to Alice, Lily on her other side.

"Is what true?" She rolled her eyes, "You know exactly what I'm asking. Is it true that James asked you out?"

"Well...yeah," I replied, feeling weird at the unknown feeling of having a positive answer on a question like this.

"Wow...," Alice breathed, "He really is over you, Lils. Who would have thought?" The red head stayed surprisingly quiet.

"Isn't it exciting though?" Marlene squealed, "Our little Cec is finally growing up. Going out on dates!"

"Oi, I'm not little," I grumbled though I couldn't help but grin back at her wide beam.

"We have so much to do!" Marlene whispered urgently whilst Slughorn recited his instructions for the potion of this lesson; Draught of Living Death. It was a complicated procedure, which should give us enough reason to listen attentively, however, we didn't. "You definitely need to get a whole makeover. And get your hair cut," she started making a list of things and I raised my eyebrows higher and higher the longer it got.

"You want to make a whole different person of me?" I asked after even Alice, who was all for 'be yourself' added a few things.

"Of course not," Marlene rolled her eyes, "But you don't wanna scare away your first date with your armpit hair, do you?"

I went red; So what if I was too lazy to regularly shave it? "When is he going to see my armpits anyways?"

Marlene gave me look before grinning slyly, "You wanna be prepared for everything." As if on cue, we all turned to look at the boy that started all this, cackling at something Sirius was whispering to him. Upon feeling our gazes, he turned to shoot me a sweet smile. My blush deepened as Marlene and Alice started giggling.

"You know I'm pretty glad he is going out with you," Lily randomly blurted as she unsuccessfully tried to cut her Sopophorus bean to get the juice out. I watched the frustration grow in her face, though I didn't know if it stirred from the bean not being cracked or something else.

"Figures. You must be so happy he is leaving you alone now," Alice stated lightly, turning to her own cauldron.

"Yeah...really happy."

Class ended with no one really succeeding with the potion besides Severus Snape, by far the best in our year. I spent the rest of the day avoiding eye contact with any curious being - and there were surprisingly a lot of them; Alright, I knew if it hadn't been me I would be extremely eager to figure out who managed to sway James away from Lily myself, too. But did people not know how to exercise discretion for Merlin's sake?

"This is getting ridiculous," I muttered as a bunch of Fifth Year girls stared at me unabashedly.

"What is?" Marlene asked disinterestedly, already used to this kind of attention.

"People staring," I whispered as we walked past the girls whispering something about 'Potter' and 'Evans'.

"Oh, you will get used to it," the dark-haired girl waved off, "You better, anyways. You are popular now."

I scrunched my face, "Because I'm apparently dating a popular boy?"

"Not just any popular boy. One of the Marauders," Marlene said as if it was the biggest thing ever. I briefly wondered if that would change her attitude towards me when she continued with a mischievous smirk that strangely reminded me of Sirius, "And not any Marauder but the one who has sworn his life to another, one of your friends nonetheless." She straightened up, flipping her hair back, "If that isn't juicy gossip, I don't know what is."

"So much for becoming popular because I'm a good Quidditch player," I grumbled to myself. Don't get me wrong, I kind of loved the attention even if I wasn't used to it and I had been dreaming of being acknowledged by others all the time after staying in the shadows of my friends for so long. For some reason it bugged me though that the only way for that to happen was because of me dating a boy.

"Hey, you don't know that, maybe they recognise you for your Quidditch skills now," Alice tried to cheer me up when she saw my pout, "You know, since Angie's last games are coming up, people are naturally going to wonder who will take her place."

"And it's gonna be James' future girlfriend!" Marlene announced loudly, causing me to slap her shoulder quite hard, "Ouch! Cec!"

"Shut up, will you?" I whispered embarrassed, ducking into the library, "I'll see you at dinner."

"Sure, try and hide but the limelight will find you everywhere!" Marlene called after me dramatically.

Who would have thought that the library would be my sanctuary when I used to avoid this place like the plague? Well, people do change...

"Cecily?" I jerked out of my lying position, the book 'Quidditch Through the Ages' that had been draped over my face falling down with a thud. "Wha? I'm awake."

"What the hell are you doing?" Sirius asked amused as he placed his books on the small table in front of the couch I was settled in.

"Eh, studying?" I replied, dusting myself of with an embarrassed laugh, "What else would I be doing in a library?" Sirius raised an eyebrow and I deflated. "Alright, I was hiding."

"Hiding? Of what?" He sat down on the armchair across the couch, occasionally glancing over me. We were in a pretty secluded place where you could still overlook the rest of the library, which I chose wisely to avoid Madam Pince throwing me out for using one of her books as a sleep mask.

"Of gossiping beings," I whispered in a conspirative manner.

Sirius' expression cleared. "Ahh, the rumours about you and Prongs dating has spread then," he concluded, smirking to himself, "Splendid."

"Not splendid. It's annoying," I huffed, and he looked at me in surprise. "What, you don't like the attention?"

"Not this kind of attention," I said pointedly. The boy stared at me, still confused. "I don't wanna be known because I'm dating James Potter. Why does no one recognise me for my Quidditch skills or something?" I groaned, dropping back against the couch.

"I see," Sirius said quietly and if I had looked, I might have seen a flash of guilt in his eyes, "Sorry about that. It could have been me, who spread the news."

I lifted my head, ignoring the fact that I was proudly flashing my double chin as I started at him incredulously, "What? Why the hell would you do that?"

"Well, I was proud of Prongs that he finally asked someone out, who would say yes for once," he defended himself but I noted his voice catching slightly. "And he is going on a date after six bloody years. About time, honestly," he muttered to himself.

"Good for you, Black. But it's not helping my case," I grumbled, rubbing my forehead. Sirius kept quiet before he leaned forward with a smirk, "Come on, people always talk but the gossip will die down at some point. Might as well bask in the attention while it lasts."

I shot him look, "Why are you here again?"

Sirius barked a laugh before he shushed himself quickly. I raised an eyebrow at him in confusion and he coughed slightly before pointing at the stack of books between us, "Research."

Craning my head around I read the title of the book on top, "The Tales of Beedle the Bard?"

"Exactly," Sirius said too quickly and too stiffly, "Got a problem with that?"

I giggled, "What are you researching for?"

"Ways to overcome boredom," he quipped.

"And you chose the library for that, of all places," I wondered.

"Yes..."

"..."

"Alright, Grant," Sirius huffed exasperatedly, "If you must know everything that is going on in my life...I'm here because of Reg."

Gasping dramatically, I chuckled when he shot me a look, "Was that so hard to tell me now? Why lie about it?"

"Because I don't want you to avenge me by spreading rumours that I'm stalking my brother."

"...I would have honestly never considered that," I said, and he sighed in relief, "Until now." I grinned wide like a Cheshire cat.

"Grant..," Sirius started with a warning tone, causing me to laugh and wave him off, "I'm just joking. I'm not like you to spill private information out to the world."

"It wouldn't have stayed private for long anyways!"

"Whatever, where is he then? I have never really seen him before," I mused, sitting up when Sirius stopped me, "Don't. At least be discreet if you have to be snoopy."

I grimaced at him, straightening up casually, "...Gotcha."

"Good." He nodded at something behind me.

Whipping my head around I eagerly scanned the library with wide eyes, ignoring the groan emitting from behind me. "Target spotted," I muttered to myself like I would whenever I spotted the Quaffle as my gaze landed on the slightly scrawnier version of Sirius.

"This is your way of being discreet? Are you serious?" the grey-eyed boy asked as I settled back down.

"No, you are." I chuckled as he gave me a blank stare, mentally high fiving myself for finally using that pun on him. "He's cute," I commented, looking over my shoulder at the boy quietly reading a book and scribbling something down on his parchment, "Looks a lot like you. But less...sharp."

"Sharp?" Sirius questioned, picking a book from his stack and pretending to flip through it as he glanced at his brother. His attempt was futile for the cover was upside down. I grinned, deciding not to tell him.

"Yeah, his features are softer," I mused, "He looks more approachable than you."

"Please," the older one scoffed, "He's a Slytherin. They are never approachable."

"Well..." That was probably the only reason why his brother wasn't as popular as him then. Many thought Slytherins weren't approachable and that in turn made them pretend they weren't actually approachable for real. Mind you, I remembered meeting many decent Slytherins in the first few years until they fell under the group pressure. "At least, among his peers then."

Sirius looked over the boy, who was oblivious to all the talk about him, and started smirking, "For sure. He is my brother after all." I rolled my eyes in amusement but didn't fail to notice the fond tone in his voice whilst he stared at his brother. Something akin to longing flashed in his grey eyes.

I opened my mouth to ask him whether he had tried talking to him but decided that it was not my business. "Well, I'm off then," I said, yawning as I stretched my limbs and went to get up.

"Wait!" Sirius snapped forward hastily to hold me back. "Can't you stay? Just for a bit...let's look like we are studying," he requested, shooting me a pleading look. I relented almost immediately, not because of his admittedly cute expression but due to the fact that his brotherly fondness made my heart melt.

"If you want to make it believable that we are studying you will have to get another book...and actually not read it upside down," I pointed out with a grin. Sirius spluttered, sheepishly turning the book over and we sat back in a companiable silence.

"So, are you going on a date with Prongs now or not?" he broke the few hours of peaceful quietness around us and I groaned internally.

"It was so nice right now, Sirius," I complained, and he grinned.

"It's still nice, you just have to give me the right answer."

"Which would be?"

"Yes, I am going out with Prongs, Sirius."

I sighed, "I sometimes think I don't really have a choice."

"You're right about that."

"Sirius!"

The dark-haired boy chuckled to himself before scrutinising me. I squirmed slightly under his gaze, wondering what he was thinking about. "What is it?"

"I believe...you would actually do him good," he said slowly, and I raised an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Sirius said with the shut of his book and stood up, stretching himself. I turned to see Regulus was already long gone. "At least you seem to accept him the way he is."

I stared at him in surprise.

"Come on, let's get dinner."

"Padfoot! Cec!" James shouted from behind us and I cringed as once again a few heads turned to look at the commotion.

"You will get used to it," Sirius whispered with a grin as his best friend jogged towards us, "What's up, Prongsie?"

"Where have you been all afternoon?" James questioned, glancing between the two of us.

"Eh, snogging some girl," Sirius replied with a shrug and I gave him a weird look. James' eyes widened. "Not her, Prongise," he continued with a pat on his shoulder, "Don't worry, she's all yours."

"Excuse me? I'm right here," I complained when James grinned, throwing an arm around my shoulder and causing me to almost flinch in surprise at the sudden touch.

"If that's the case, you don't mind giving us some privacy, do you, Pads?"

"Of course not. Have fun, Prongsie. Cec." With that 'Pads' left, whistling a cheerful tune.

"Where are we going?" I asked as James led me away from the Great Hall, "I'm hungry."

"That's why, dear Cecily, we're heading to a very special place."

"Which is where?"

"The kitchens."

My eyes widened as I took in his words. "You...know...where...the...kitchens...are...?" I asked almost breathlessly.

James grinned widely. "I knew you would be interested." He leaned down towards my ear, "Yes, the kitchens. Food accessible around the clock, whenever you want to eat. Midnight snacks, second breakfasts, afternoon lunch..."

"That sounds too good to be real," I sighed dreamily, blissfully unaware of him chuckling at my expression, still leant in.

We went down several stairs until we reached near the dungeons where I presumed the Slytherins had their quarters along with the Hufflepuffs nearby.

"Where is it then?" I asked eagerly.

"Right...here," he announced cheerfully, pointing at the painting of a fruit bowl.

I deadpanned, "Food in a picture is not actual food, James."

"I know that," James rolled his eyes though his blush told me he hadn't always known. Grinning at the imagination of him trying to grasp food from a picture, I watched him tickle the pear in the bowl. To my bemusement it giggled before transforming into a green door handle.

"My lady," James announced as he pulled the painting aside, "Take a faithful step closer towards heaven on earth."

Following his orders, my jaw slackened at the sight; a high-ceilinged room, big as the Great Hall - if possibly bigger - and filled to the brim with pans and pots...and elves.

"Elves work at Hogwarts?" I asked in surprise. I had always wondered, who was responsible for the amazing food that was presented to us daily out of nowhere. A few tiny heads turned at our entrance and some shuffled over with big eyes.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter is back!" they greeted the boy next to me, shooting me curious looks, "What can we do for Mr. Potter and his friend?"

"Cecily," I introduced myself lamely with a wave.

"What can we do for Mr. Potter and Ms. Cecily?"

James chuckled. "Just get us whatever you think is your most delicious dish this evening, please," he requested kindly. The elves nodded eagerly, shuffling away towards the crowd of elves bustling around busily. "Come on," he gestured towards a set of tables with chairs on either side. As soon as we sat, the table started getting filled by various foods and my mouth watered at the sight.

"Dig in!" James urged cheerfully, filling his plate.

"This. Is. Heaven," I said through a mouthful of chicken, sighing blissfully through my nose, " And this is all just for us! How did you find this place?"

"Well, Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail and I were setting up some pranks for the Slytherins-"

"As usual."

"-when we saw a few older Hufflepuffs sneak out of their dorms. I believe, one of them was the Head Boy. Naturally, we followed them-"

"You mean, you stalked them," I pointed out and he shot me a peeved look.

"We followed them," he continued with extra emphasis on the word and I snorted into my cup of pumpkin juice, "And watched them enter through the pear."

"That's it?" I asked with a raised eyebrow and he nodded with a shrug, "That sounds almost boring."

"Excuse me?" he spluttered. "What do you mean boring?"

"Well, when I think about all the crazy prank stories you've done that people talk about, I figured the way you found this place would have been some kind of adventure."

"How else would we actually find a place like this?" James asked with a raised eyebrow, "It's not like you can stumble and tickle a pear in a painting by accident now, can you?"

"If anyone can do this, then it's you," I said, pointing at him with my cup and he grinned as if that was a compliment. It probably was.

"Enough about me," he waved off, gulping down his bite, "I wanna know about you, Cec."

"Oh yeah?" He nodded and I swallowed down the chicken, wincing at my suddenly dry throat, "What do you want to know then?"

"Something no one else knows about you," he requested easily, and my eyes widened at his confidence.

"Ehm, there is not really anything interesting that no one knows about me."

"Please, everyone has a story," James stated, leaning forward, "What is yours?"

"I'm not old enough to have a story, yet."

"You want and at the same time don't want to become a Healer," James pointed out, "That has a story."

"You know about that already. I've told you about my parents," I said back, and he nodded.

"Yes, and now I wanna know another story."

"…That's my only story."

James narrowed his eyes, "You are really stubborn, aren't you?"

"So are you," I replied with a grin before sighing at his steady stare, "Honestly, I don't know what you want to hear. My life is not as exciting as yours."

"...Tell me why you like the Montrose Magpies?" he asked after a while, and I laughed.

"Alright, but only if you tell me why you like the Chudley Cannons."

"Deal."

And thus, we started talking about our likes and dislikes, our favourites in every thinkable department and other light topics. It wasn't until the elves started crowding around us, asking if we needed anything else that I realised we had stayed here long past dinner.

"It's probably almost midnight," I mused, yawning behind the back of my hand.

"We should head back," James agreed, standing up and thanking the elves around us for the food.

Quietly, we padded across the halls towards the Gryffindor Tower, having talked enough for tonight to have a peaceful lull in our conversation. Giving up the password to the Fat Lady, James gestured for me to get inside and I sighed at the warmth of the fireplace that was still lit in the Common Room.

"So...I would say that was a nice first date..." I almost choked on the intake of my sigh, my peaceful inner mind waking up with a whirlwind of thoughts. 'What the-'

"Right?" James pushed, turning to look at my surprised expression as I coughed.

"Eh..what- that was- was it?" I stumbled over my jumbled words and he grinned.

"Was it not?"

"We never said-"

"Doesn't matter, I consider it as our first date," James announced, raising a hand to lightly graze my red cheeks. My red cheeks from coughing. Yeah. "Besides, you would have just disagreed if I had said it was a date."

"You tricked me!" I spluttered indignantly, "You tricked me with my biggest weakness."

"You gave that weakness away yourself," James stated with a grin as he walked backwards towards the boy's dormitories, "Anyways, I wouldn't mind a second date, Cec. Just saying."

And with that he and his frustratingly cute and mischievous grin vanished from my sight.

Chapter Seven

[remscorner]

False Manipulations (Sebastian x F!Reader)

(A bit of info: this is a fantasy AU where the characters all live in a large town named 'Honocrotalus', name for pelican. Though the layout of the town is not the same from the game, it's much larger.

(There are a few OC's in here but only background characters for the plot)

Narrators POV // 12:00 pm

Y/n strolled through town swiftly, her footsteps barely emitting noise.

She'd come across many 'wanted' banners of her masked face throughout her journey and it was getting tiring.

Ever since she was a child, she'd always been on the wrong side of the family.

At least she thought so?

After years of mental, emotional and physical abuse, Y/n had ran away from a family in which kidnapped her many years ago.

This was the result of having to steal and rob from others in order to keep alive.

It all went downhill from there, she even had the blood of the innocent resting in her hands, using her own blade.

Fortunately the public hadn't known what she'd looked like, nor did they figure out her real name.

The only description being the nickname 'Rabbit' and 'a slim figure wearing an oversized black cloak covering her clothing beneath and a white rabbit mask'.

Y/n never thought the word 'slim' would be a fit description over herself...

At least in her eyes.

But of course, being on the run across the entire country had her starving a bit.

Her stomach growled and she cringed at the soft ache in her belly before sighing and staring at an abandoned sales cart and smirking.

She swiftly stole three buns off the top and stuffed them inside her cloak that had held her mask.

Since nobody knew what she looked like, Y/n was free to roam around town without a care in the world.

"Guards! Draw your swords!" A large voice echoed down the streets, many had crowded around the commotion.

Y/n pushed through in order to find three of her old bandit friends she hadn't seen in years.

One being just a child at age 13.

Her eyes widened at they fought their way through the kingdoms guards, two of the three secretly getting away while one had stayed to hold off the men.

Y/n's teeth gritted softly and she pulled up her hood, quickly putting on her mask before jumping over the crowd to help fight off the imperial guards.

Her sword drew from her scabbard and had stroked at ones shoulder before throwing it back to another right beneath his ripcage.

"N/n!?" (Nickname) The bandit yelled in surprise, obvious struggle hid between her teeth.

"Hey November! You better get to Molly and Ellie now! I'll hold them off don't worry! Elles gotten so big!" She grinned, reminiscing back to when the dirty blonde was only five.

"You sure you got this!?" November yelled in between pants and Y/n nodded with a giggle.

She smiled gratefully before leaving the masked killer to fend for herself.

She was strong enough from fighting off many in the past to get through a couple more guards before one had struck her shoulder from behind.

Y/n yelped and many were shocked to hear how feminine the murderer had sounded.

They'd been looking for her for years and they'd only now, found out she was most definitely a girl.

Just as Y/n had tried to compose her stance, another guard had broken skin right above her knee and she'd looked down in surprise before her hands were pulled behind her back.

"Shit..."

____

Currently at the Wright's castle, lunch was being held awkwardly in the large dining area of the palace.

And yet, with shock sat Sebastian next to his half sister which he'd held a different last name to, just like the rest of his family.

Sebastian McCarthy, the poor isolated boy was different and despite his family's disapprovals, wanted to catch the wanted Rabbit himself.

"What do you mean Rabbits been caught!?" He stood up from his seat, the chair scraping the floor with a trip.

One of Sebastians two knights, Sam, had barged into the dining room with the news just before.

"The other guards are bringing them to the castle now! Your majesty!?" Sam yelled in a panic, staring over to Demetrius.

He'd been king for years now and even had the family's name changed to Wright after marrying the queen, Robin.

Of course Sebastian had kept his previosus surname...

Demetrius nodded with a frown before the family had told up to meet Rabbit at the enterance hall.

"Sebastian I know you've wanted to meet him for a while now but please just go to your room" Robin said in a pleading tone.

"I'm staying here"

"Why don't you just listen to your mother-"

Just as Demetrius was about to scold his stepson for his disruptive behaviour, the castle doors opened and three guards were escorting a young woman with h/l, h/c hair and e/c eyes.

She wore an oversized cloak in which the hood was pulled down to reveal a pretty face.

They'd torn off the cloak to the ground, showing the rest of her features.

She wore a white oversized blouse where the top three buttons had been undone, black pants and a belt where the rabbit mask and an empty scabbard was held.

"Who's this?" Demetrius scoffed, belittling the knights intentions.

Sebastian slowly walked closer to the girl with a curious expression.

She stared back at him, apathetically.

"This is the Rabbit, sir.." a knight to the left of

Y/n said anxiously.

Y/n shot him an irritated glare, eyes catching Robin who eyed her carefully.

"A girl..?" The ginger uttered softly, Sebastian began to grow angry.

"I've been looking for a girl this entire time!?" He exclaimed and Robin let out a snort before turning away from the odd stares shot her way.

It had to sound pretty weird coming from Sebastian who hardly had the interest in girls.

Neither did he have an interest for boys, he had never cared for such silly distractions like love.

"This is ridiculous!" Demetrius scoffed, it was the first time Sebastian could agree with his stepfather.

"Aw shut up old man, I don't wanna hear from you either.. let the prince talk.." Y/n grinned flirtatiously, throwing eyes to Sebastian who'd eyed the sharper canines she'd had compared to his own.

If he'd known any better, he would've thought she was a vampire...

"Wh-" He stepped back and Demetrius yelled out.

"You'll be exiled faster if you wish!"

"Hey Princey, what's it like living in this place? I'm pretty sure you know but I've stolen and sold a couple things from here!"

Y/n ignoring Demetrius, instead spoke to Sebastian with love eyes casually staring into his, she was always good at manipulating others with her deceiving looks.

"You know I've always wanted to see you up close like this, what's it like seeing me so up close?"

"Watch it" Sebastian glared daggers into her head, she snickered softly.

It was amusing seeing such anger fuel up in a bit like him.

"So aggressive..." Y/n said with a smirk, she pouted softly, her stance lightly swaying.

He sneered at her, he felt as if she was mocking him, teasing him for his issues with his anger, his issues with her.

Is she crazy? Does she know who she's talking to?

"Take her to the cells" Demetrius ordered, Y/n sighed with an irritated look before she was led down into the deeper parts of the castle, ones only high ranked criminals would get to experience.

Robin had locked eyes with her as she passed by and Y/n politely nodded to her with a blank expression.

Y/n had left her pondering to herself, intrigued with the killer.

"Strange girl..."

____

"She's in there... be careful Seb, she's got a couple screws loose in there" Sam warned as his prince friend neared the cells, twirling his index finger around with the target of his head.

Sebastian only nodded back before leaving Sam behind him.

It was dark down in the cells, the room was lightly dimmed from torches which gave off the impression the room was brightened with a yellow hue.

Sebastian took a stop in front of the girls cell, the only cell which had been occupied really.

She sat in the corner on a thin, cold bed, her eyes closed.

He could hear her humming to a song he couldn't recognize.

She sat leg straight out, one bending up as she rested her arm on her knee.

Y/n knew he was there, she knew he was there a long time ago.

"Rabbit" Sebastian said, he held his ground.

Chin up, back straight..

"Hello, Prince" she grinned lazily.

Y/n opened her eyes, watching as his broad silhouette shifted in the light behind his figure.

She could see his brows furrow at the nickname.

Sebastian kept his guard, she was dangerous, he knew.

But something about her made him so intrigued with her mindset.

Why had she chosen to kill so many, why kill the innocent.

Though he couldn't care less for the village, seeing his mother so distraught with her people being mercilessly murdered, he had to admit, felt terrible.

He became obsessed with catching the culprit, the bastard who hurt his mother so deeply.

Sebastian wanted to do everything to torture and question the murderer as much as they did with the towns people.

Unfortunately, he didn't know what to do with the girl now.

Seb didn't expect a woman to come striding in, not that he was expecting much of a man either.

He was really expecting more of a monster than the pretty sight in front of him.

"Wanna join me?" Y/n asked, pulling a plate of mashed potatoes and bread towards herself, given to her by Sam as an order.

Though she was cruel and unstable, she wanted to keep her healthy.

The 'she' in question being Robin.

"I already ate" Sebastian frowned, he didn't expect her to be so calm in a situation like being locked up.

"Stay with me then? It's lonely down here" she pouted softly.

Y/n didn't miss the look of disgust on his face, it nearly made her laugh how shocked he was.

Maybe if she was still a kid, she would be hurt by the expression the prince wore.. but now it was more amusement than it ever was with anybody else.

Yoba was it satisfying watching innocent humans like Sebastian grow angry with her.

It was a sign that showed she'd successfully gotten under his skin.

"You'll eat, then I'll join you.. but I won't be here for company" Sebastian growled, Y/n nearly laughed at the mans attempt at being threatening.

It was hard to be threatened when you've killed many...

"I'll make sure to enjoy whatever you'll do to me then"

[fics-of-culture]

Of Shortcomings and Short Winchesters

Requested by anonymous

Castiel x Short Female Reader

Summary: The youngest Winchester had always been on the shorter end of the spectrum. What happens when our favorite trench coat wearing angel makes her feel insecure about that fact? Very minimal angst. Mostly fluff.

Words: 2,433

You were sitting silently in front of the desk in Bobby’s house, pouring over dozens of lore books pertaining to both heaven and impending the apocalypse when you felt it again. Eyes were boring into the back of your head for the third time in the past twenty minutes. You snap your head to side, just fast enough to see the side of Castiel’s face as he turns away from you and pretends to observe some of the books on the shelves behind you. This sort of thing had been happening a lot lately. While your brothers were out on hunts, Castiel had taken to spending more time with you at Bobby’s. The two of you were currently searching for solutions to this whole ‘apocalypse’ conundrum. Apparently Castiel, or Cas as your brother Dean had started referring to him, had also taken to observing you when he thought you were unaware. You turn your head back to the book before you before deciding to call him out on his not so subtle staring.

“Do you need anything, Cas?” You try to keep the irritation out of your voice, but to be frank, you’d appreciate Cas’ presence a little more if he were actually working and not just gawking at you. You’re not sure you did a very good job at seeming neutral because the moment you spoke, the angel froze. Like he’s been caught with his hand halfway in the cookie jar. Not that angels needed such sustenance, as Cas frequently reminded you whenever you offered him food, but you get the gist of it.

“No.” Castiel managed to choke out after some time, his voice seeming gruffer than usual. ‘As if that’s even possible’, a helpful part of your brain chimes out. You shrug off the thought as he continues. “Actually, I was just about to ask if you needed my help with anything.” ‘Anything?’ Your traitorous mind ponders. You turn your head to observe Cas for the first time since this conversation started. His head was cocked to the side in that adorable way of his as he awaited your response.

“Actually now that you mention it,” You say, thoughtfully. Rising from your seat, you brush past the bashful angel as you step in front of the bookshelf Cas was just staring at. “Sam mentioned one of these books needing translation.” You tell him as you attempt to find the book Sam spoke of earlier. You’d looked through each shelf before you found it… sitting comfortably on the top shelf. You let out a small sigh as you look at it, silently debating the least embarrassing way to get your hands on it. It was no secret that you had not been gifted with the same freakishly long legs that your brothers had inherited from the family. But that being said, you’d still like to humiliate yourself as little as possible in front of the perfect angel you’d come to know as Castiel. Sure, he was nice, but you weren’t entirely sure that he wouldn’t tease you if he saw you hoping up on a stool just to get one book down. With this thought in mind, you hesitantly raise your arm, pulling your body up on your tiptoes to see if you can’t reach the book by yourself. Your shirt rides up as you stretch, showing off a small portion of your back. Your fingers brush against the spine of the book and you can immediately tell that you’re not gonna be able to pull it out. You’re just about to sigh and admit defeat when you feel a hand placed gently on your hip. A chest presses against your back as you see a trench coat clad arm reach up to join yours. This arm has a much longer reach, however and manages to easily pull the needed book off the tall shelf. You let your arm drop uselessly by your side as Castiel steps away from you, lore book in hand. 

“You um… you seemed like you were having trouble.” Cas gestures towards the shelf awkwardly as he explains himself. You try to swallow your embarrassment and having needed help before turning back to the task at hand.

“Thanks.” You say shyly. He gives you a small smile before turning back to the newly retrieved lore book.

“So, did Sam say which pages needed translating?” He places the book on Bobby’s desk before leafing through a few pages. You move to stand next to him as he searches through the book. He flips through most of the book before you spot a few highlighted pages.

“There,” You point out to Cas. “Sam said he highlighted the part he couldn’t understand. He said he couldn’t even tell what language it was in.” Cas nodded as he looked over the page.

“I’m not surprised Sam couldn’t understand this. It’s Enochian.” Castiel’s finger trailed over the page as he started to translate it. Eyes squinting slightly as he focuses on the page before him.

“Enochian?” You asked. Cas let out a grunt of confirmation as he read.

“It is the language of the angels.” He told you distractedly. Clearly focused on his task of translating the angelic language. You let out a small ‘huh’ as you observed the page. The script was beautiful, you observed idly. You allowed your fingers to trace over the printed runes away from the text Castiel was reading, not wanting to distract him as you observed his language. You seemed to have failed in this endeavor however, as when you looked up from the page you noticed that Cas had paused his reading and was instead staring intently at your small hand as it glided along the page. You decide to break the tension that was suddenly filling the room.

“So you can speak this language?” this question seemed to break the angel out of his trance. He cleared his throat before looking up at you.

“Yes, although it is quite difficult for humans to understand.” You nod as he explains. “This however,” He gestures back to the book. “Will be of no use to us. It has no information on the apocalypse and is instead a guide on angel reproduction.” You feel your eyebrows shoot up as he says this.

“Angels can reproduce?” Castiel looks positively sheepish now. A slight blush rising on his face.

“Sometimes.” He says quietly. He clears his throat again. “But it is not the same as human reproduction. Humans are… unique in their manner of reproduction.” Cas’ sentence trails off uncertainly and you start to realize just how uncomfortable the topic seems to be making him. So naturally you decide to continue it, if only to see how red you can make the trench coat wearing angel turn.

“How so?” You ask innocently. Castiel seems to be desperately avoiding your gaze now.

“Like uhh…” He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. All the while studying the wall in front of him, as though it held the answers he was seeking. “Genetics!” Castiel exclaims suddenly, turning to meet your eyes again. You can’t help but find yourself a bit disappointed that Cas had managed to dig himself out of the hole he had been creating. Cas continues regardless. “For example, it is strange to me how some members of a family can look as though they do not belong.” You couldn’t help but feel a little lost at the sudden turn the conversation took. But you decided to humor Cas by going along with it.

“I don’t think I follow.” You tell him, waiting patiently for him to clarify.

“Like you and your brothers. It is odd that out of your entire family, you look as though you could possibly be completely unrelated to the others. What with your small stature and the Winchester family’s history of having tall offspring.” This statement caused you to freeze in place. Somewhere in the rational part of your brain you knew Castiel didn’t mean it like that, but it was too late. Years of repressed insecurity managed to take hold of your brain. Years of feeling you weren’t good enough. Not large enough both literally and figuratively, to fill the shoes of your hunter family. Not good enough to to be taken out on hunts with your brothers. Not strong enough to save your father. Not even tall enough to be considered a Winchester. If Cas noticed the shift in your mood as he spoke he did not show it. Instead, he seemed content to rattle off facts about genetics in different species. You couldn’t stay here. You turned away from Cas suddenly, making some excuse about needing to use the bathroom before rushing out of the room. Leaving a confused angel in your wake.

-

You had spent the past few hours holed up in one of the spare rooms in Bobby’s house. To take your mind off of Cas’ harsh words you let your attention be completely consumed by lore. Bobby had gotten home an hour ago and even knocked on your door, but you couldn’t find it in you to get up and greet him. He must’ve been able to tell that you weren’t feeling well because he left you alone after that. Somewhere in your mind you’re aware that you shouldn’t be letting Castiel’s words affect you like this, but some days it was difficult not to let your insecurities consume you. And it had hurt all the more hearing the words fall from Cas’ lips. You regarded his opinion very highly. He was a practically perfect angel after all. And the idea that he might see you as being the weak link of your family hurt more than you’d like to admit. You had been working up the courage to leave your safe haven when you heard a commotion down the hall. It sounded like two voices having a heated discussion. Well, one voice on the receiving end of a heated discussion. But try as you might, you couldn’t really make out what they were saying or who was speaking. A few moments later and the hall was back to being silent. You were just about to stand up and see what was going on when a knock sounded at your door.

“Y/n? May I come in?” You hear Castiel’s voice, muffled by the door. You steel yourself before telling him to come in. You wait with bated breath as he silently enters the room, stepping carefully as though he would startle you if he made any noise. “May I?” He speaks softly as he gestures to the bed in the center in the room. You nod and he seats himself a bit unsurely on the bed. You place yourself beside him, waiting to see what he wanted. His eyes were focused on his lap as he spoke. His posture resembled that of a reprimanded child. “You disappeared earlier. And when Bobby returned home, he seemed to think that I had somehow managed to upset you. I’m unsure whether this is true or not, but I came to tell you that if I managed to offend you, I am sorry. I did not mean to.” Your guarded exterior melts a bit when his eyes meet yours. His piercing gaze seemed to desperately search yours. Looking to see if he truly had caused offence. You let out a small sigh as you try to think of how to explain to an angel that his earlier words had hurt you.

“I know you didn’t mean to, but you hurt me earlier when you said I did not look like a Winchester.” Castiel opened his mouth suddenly as if to dispute you, but you carried on. “I’ve spent my entire life feeling like I’m not good enough for this family, so to have you remind me of one of my many shortcomings… it hurt.” Castiel slowly closed his mouth and let out a sigh as he looked back again at his lap. The room remained silent for several minutes. 

“It is not a shortcoming.” You hear Cas whisper quietly to himself.

“What?” You ask. His head jerks up suddenly and he fixes you again with his piercing blue eyes. 

“Your height. It is not a shortcoming. And it certainly has no effect on how I view you as a hunter. In fact, smaller fighters have many advantages over larger adversaries.” You smile softly at him as he speaks, resting a hand on his knee. He turns to look at it as he continues. “Besides, it is my understanding that some men find themselves more attracted to short women.” You chuckled a bit as Castiel spoke shyly, not daring to face you.

“Did you just call me cute?” You ask hesitantly. 

“I believe I called you ‘attractive’” Castiel corrected as he turned to look at you. His face slightly flushed from the sudden turn in the conversation. He was biting his lower lip nervously. You felt yourself growing bold.

“Do you find shorter girls attractive, Castiel?” You slid closer to him as your hand slid a bit up his leg. The angel stared at you dumbfounded for a moment, before visibly plucking up his courage. His back straightened as he regarded you.

“Only if that girl is you.” He spoke so quietly you weren’t entirely certain you had heard him at all. But the look he was giving you all but confirmed what he had said. His eyes sliding down your face every few seconds to observe your lips. Giving them a look that could only be described as a desperate need. “I have enjoyed getting to know you recently. I find myself spending a surprising amount of time thinking of you.” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face at his confession. Castiel starts to lean in slowly. Watching your face for any sign of hesitation. When he is only a hair's breadth away he pauses. “May I kiss you, Y/n?” You nod. Not trusting yourself to speak in this moment. A look of pure relief flashes across Castiel’s face before he closes the gap between the two of you. It is several moments before you break the surprisingly heated kiss. Your head resting against Cas’. If an angel could be out of breath, that is how you would describe him in this moment. You let out a small chuckle and Castiel cocks his head slightly.

“My brothers are gonna kill you.” Cas’ smile grows even wider at this.

“For you, I would fight through a thousand Winchester brothers.”

[ivarthebadbitch]

Strange things can happen

Chapter 2 summary: Ivar and Aldreda’s wedding goes off without a hitch. The wedding night, on the other hand, goes less than smoothly.

Canon divergent, everybody lives, arranged marriage AU after 4x14. Read this chapter on Ao3.

Read chapter 1 here or on Ao3.

Pairings: Ivar x OC, Ivar vs. basically everyone

Warnings: None, unless you count major secondhand embarrassment, in which case...there is that

Word count: 2111

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 (if anyone else wants to be added, let me know)

CHAPTER 2: Do your duty

“Hold still,” Judith told Aldreda as the servants finished pinning back her stepdaughter’s hair. “You don’t want the veil to come loose halfway through the ceremony.”

The girl nodded, careful not to move her head too quickly. At least she wasn’t sobbing on her shoulder; Judith thanked God for that. She remembered shedding a few tears of nervous anticipation before her own wedding some ten years ago, and her circumstances had been considerably better than Aldreda’s—or so it had seemed at the time. She had gone into her marriage harboring delusions of love and romance. Aldreda would be spared all that, which was for the best, really.

Judith supposed she should give her some advice at this vulnerable moment. That was the maternal thing to do. “You understand your duty tonight? I need not explain to you?”

“Yes,” Aldreda said, biting her lip and turning red. “I mean, no. Yes, I understand my duty. No, you do not need to explain.”

“Good,” Judith said. “Well, I will say this: get yourself with his child as soon as possible. It will please your grandfather. Afterwards, you need not see much of each other. You will both be happier that way.”

Aldreda opened her mouth to say something, but then there was a knock at the door. Aethelwulf poked his head inside. “May I?”

Judith gave him as cordial a smile as she could muster. She and Aethelwulf were being very cordial to each other lately. Exceedingly cordial. Maybe almost excessively cordial. “Of course. She is nearly ready.” 

He shut the door behind him and gave his daughter a slightly pained smile as Judith stepped aside. “You look beautiful,” he said, planting a kiss on her cheek. “The ceremony has been modified somewhat, to...to accommodate Ivar’s condition. He will be waiting for you at the altar, and you both will remain seated, no kneeling. I am told he has been instructed how to conduct himself. And I am sure all will go well.”

He looked queasy as he said it, but then he cleared his throat and fished around in his pocket for something. He pulled out a gold necklace set with a single large pearl and handed it to Aldreda. “It was your mother’s,” he explained. “She brought it with her from Mercia and wore it when we were married. I am sorry she is not here to see what a fine young woman you have become.”

“Oh,” Aldreda said, and finally Judith could see her eyes starting to well up with tears. Aethelwulf rarely spoke of his first wife, a Mercian princess who had died not long after their daughter was born. They had only been married a short time.

“Be careful of the veil,” Judith told Aethelwulf sharply as he clasped the necklace around Aldreda’s neck. “The servants just pinned it.”

“It can be pinned again,” Aldreda said a little peevishly. Then, unexpectedly, she threw herself into her father’s arms and murmured something to him that Judith couldn’t hear. Unbidden, Judith thought of herself sitting with her own father before her wedding: no words of comfort or encouragement, only a stern reminder to obey her new husband and do nothing that would bring shame upon Northumbria. In both matters, she had been a great disappointment indeed. 

At last, Aethelwulf set Aldreda down, put his hands on her shoulders, and smiled. “Are you ready?”

She gave him a shaky little smile in return. “No. But it’s time to go anyway.”

                                                             ***

“Hold still,” Ragnar muttered to Ivar as he once again straightened out the collar of his shirt and brushed away some invisible speck of dust. “You want to look good for your bride, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Ivar said through gritted teeth. He craned his neck to look over his shoulder at the gathering crowd behind him. Ecbert gave him a little wave and a smile and he immediately turned away, focusing instead on the candles and rings and the bowl of water that the priest had set out on the altar. He glowered at the dead Christian god staring reproachfully at him from the cross. “This is taking too long,” he grumbled. “Shouldn’t she be here already?”

“See, that is the right attitude,” Ragnar said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, she will be here soon, and then you will get to spend the rest of your lives together.”

“I don’t want to marry a Christian.”

“Well, we all must face disappointments in life.” He straightened up at the sound of commotion at the back of the hall and then stepped back. “Your bride has arrived. Behave yourself or I’ll make you regret it.”

As Aldreda took her seat beside him, determinedly looking straight ahead, he had a sudden image in his mind of himself miraculously springing to his feet, shoving the altar over, and dashing out of the hall to freedom before they could catch him. This was not going to happen, of course, but it was still a nice thought.

He sat there with a pit of dread in his stomach and held on to that image while the priest droned on in Latin, and followed Aldreda’s lead in lighting candles and exchanging rings, and said whatever words he was supposed to say, and before he knew it a loud cheer went up through the hall and Ragnar and another man were picking him up, chair and all, and hauling him and his bride off to the wedding feast. Still in a daze, they dumped him into his seat at the head table with Aldreda to his left and his father to his right, and the musicians started to play a lively tune.

For lack of anything better to do, he took his cup and chugged his wine, and then held out his cup to a servant, who obligingly refilled it. He had resolved beforehand to spend the wedding feast getting as drunk as humanly possible. But by the time he had finished his third cup, he kept finding himself unable to catch the attention of any of the servants, and he was beginning to have a suspicion that his father had something to do with it.

He stole a glance at his father, deep in conversation with Ecbert and his own cup unattended. Just as he reached for it, Ragnar casually turned and shoved his hand away. 

“I’m pleased you’re enjoying your wedding,” Ragnar told him quietly. His grip on his wrist was like iron. “But you still have a duty to fulfill. Don’t disappoint your bride.”

Ivar rolled his eyes and looked at his...wife...who was determinedly ignoring him and saying something to her stepmother. She looked fine, he supposed, not as ugly as she could have been, but nothing special. However, because she was determined to ignore him, she also had not been paying much attention to the location of her wine cup, and so when the opportunity arose, he took it.

It took her a few moments to realize what he had done, but then she turned and glared at him. “That is my…” she began in horrendous Norse before switching back to English. “...wine. Give it back. Please.”

He ignored her and drank the rest of her wine in one gulp, somewhat disappointed to discover that the cup was mostly empty anyway. Then he gave the cup back. “Tell the servant to fill it up,” he ordered. She appeared to understand him well enough but did not seem inclined to obey. Instead, she gave him an irritated look and turned back to Judith, taking her cup with her.

His father clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed hard enough for it to hurt. “Stop that,” he murmured in his ear before getting to his feet. “Lords and ladies,” he announced in English in a loud voice, clapping his hands. The hall went quiet and every head turned to look. “Long have our people fought each other, and made senseless war, and sacrificed the youngest and the best among us. But in his infinite wisdom, King Ecbert—and myself, of course—have seen a new vision for a shared future in which we need not destroy one another to live. It all begins tonight with the union of my son Ivar and Aethelwulf’s daughter Aldreda.”

Some scattered drunken cheers went up throughout the hall, and then his father once again motioned for silence. Ivar saw Ecbert grinning from ear to ear, and at Ecbert’s side, Aethelwulf looked somewhat less than pleased. 

“The night is still young,” Ragnar continued. “The happy couple have many, many years ahead of them. But I have great hopes for a new grandchild, as does my friend Ecbert, and so let us wait no longer! Let them consummate the marriage without delay. Now, to bed!”

“Wait, no—” Ivar barely managed to sputter before Ragnar picked him up and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. From his view over Ragnar’s shoulder, Aldreda met his eyes and turned pale. But Ecbert was already at her side and eagerly tugging at her elbow, and so she got up and followed them down the hall to their bedchamber, trailed by the entire court.

“Father, please,” Ivar begged. Ragnar didn’t hear him—or, more likely, was ignoring him. Gods, he was nowhere near drunk enough for any of this. He briefly considered trying to vomit to buy himself more time, but by the time he had worked that out in his head it was already too late: Ragnar dumped him unceremoniously on the bed with a hearty yell and Ecbert all but shoved Aldreda into the room. 

And then, like that, the door was shut firmly behind them and they were alone together for the first time. 

                                                            ***

Aldreda could hear the sounds of the wedding party still going on outside the room, but inside, it was too quiet. She turned away to slowly take out her earrings, unclasp her mother’s necklace, and unbraid her hair. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to see Ivar lying rigid on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. He hadn’t even taken off his boots. He turned his head to catch her eye and then he immediately looked away.

She had kept her composure all throughout the evening but now she could feel it slipping as she moved on to the task of getting out of her wedding dress, her hands slippery with sweat as she undid the buttons. When she was down to just her shift, she carefully folded and draped the dress over a chair and paused. Behind her, she could tell that Ivar hadn’t moved an inch. Surely he knew what they were supposed to do now. Surely his father had explained it. He wasn’t that much younger than her; how could he not know?

She walked over to the bed and hesitantly took a seat beside him. His jaw twitched, but he still kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling. She reached out to take his hand, but before she could even touch him he grabbed her wrist and glared at her. His grip was stronger than she expected, and with a lurch she realized he could probably break her wrist easily if he wanted to.

“No,” he snarled at her in English. Then he let go of her arm and pushed her aside.

She could feel her heart thumping loudly in her chest. “You...don’t want…” she began to say in Norse, but she didn’t know the words that came after that. Ivar was still glaring at her, and if she had been afraid of him before, now she was angry. She switched over to English. “I didn’t want this either,” she snapped. “But we’re married now, so we should do our duty, and once you give me a child we can live apart.”

She couldn’t tell how much he understood, but all at once his face crumpled and he began to weep, sobbing so hard it seemed like he could hardly breathe. He rolled over on his side so that he was facing away from her and curled up in a ball. Aldreda could hear him mumbling tearfully in Norse, though the words were so garbled it was impossible to understand. She nearly reached out to comfort him, but then she stopped herself: if she had been the one to weep instead of him, she could hardly imagine him offering her any sort of comfort. So she stretched out on the bed beside him, careful to keep her distance, and listened until his sobs ended and his breathing slowed, and at some point, she too fell into a fitful sleep.

[xfandomwritingsx]

The Sweet of Night – Loki Laufeyson – Part 6

-gif source unknown-

Description: After growing up besides Loki and having a complicated friendship with him, you visit him in his cell at night.  

Warnings/Labels: Sexual tension.

Approx. Word Count: 3,900

Story Masterpost

Why is it all the romance in these is always so tame? is the note he leaves in your latest book when he returns it. He isn’t wrong, necessarily. While you’ve always considered the romance in the novels steamy, you must admit it is in a more subtle fashion. You chew on your lower lip and glance to your bookshelf, thinking about one in particular; the one hidden behind the others in a plain, unmarked cover. It is very… erotic.

You’d purchased it from a little shop outside the village and done so in cloak and shadows. You only read it on nights when you can curl up into your bed completely uninterrupted and preferably if you don’t need to be awake early the next morning. It may not be the most eloquently written piece of literature, but it gets the job done, as the saying goes.

No one else even knows you own such a novel and here you are, actually playing with the idea of sending it to Loki. If he wants untamed romance, it’s sitting right there. But, no. That would be too much, wouldn’t it? Even if it was to just poke fun at his question? No, you couldn’t do it. Something about giving him that book feels too intimate, too brash.

You put his note inside your desk drawer, amongst his others, and return the book to your shelf. You run your fingers along the spines of your other novels, trying to find one that might suit his fancy. He’s already gone through most of your collection. Perhaps a different genre? Would a murder mystery intrigue him or bore him? Loki gives off the impression of being someone to figure out who the killer is within the first few chapters and be bored or irritated the rest of the way through.

As you stand there, contemplating what you’re going to do once you have no more books to share, you find your hand reaching up and ghosting over your shoulder. You’re still so unsure about him. Loki holds tight to the stance that he did not do anything, but you could have sworn you felt his hands upon you. You keep your focus on your uncertainty so that you don’t contemplate the more pressing and more concerning question; why did you want to feel it again?

A knock on your door startles you and you jump back from your bookshelf. Checking yourself in your looking glass quickly, you right the collar of your top before moving to answer your door. A servant stands on the other side, head already bowed and holding out a large clothing box that rests on his forearms.

“Your garments for the feast tonight,” he tells you, snapping you out of your initial confusion. You had honestly forgotten about the feast, mind preoccupied with so many other things.

“Thank you.” You take the box from him and with one more bow, he proceeds down the hall. You wish the servants weren’t so formal with you. It makes you feel strange to have such little interaction with them. As you step back into your room, you make a mental note to perhaps schedule some kind of meal with them.

You put the box on your bed and gently remove the top, looking for the note your mother inevitably put inside. She always insists on you having new robes and gowns for feasts and parties. She claims it’s only proper and when she realized you weren’t going to get new clothes yourself, she started sending them to you instead.

With no note on top, you pick up the garment, shaking it out to full length in front of you. It looks tailored to your build, as always, but the style doesn’t quite fit what your mother usually sends. You are used to golds and silvers, sometimes yellows and reds made of shiny silk and satin; all colors and fabrics she sees fit for a royal to wear.

The dress in your hands is velvet dyed a deep but vibrant green. It’s slim, only flaring out at the bottom towards the ankles with a small slit at the bottom. The sleeves will reach three quarters down your arms, no poofing at the shoulders. The neckline is steeper than you’re used to, but it doesn’t look distasteful. When you turn it around, you notice it has a low cut in back as well. It’s quite striking.

You admire it for another moment before looking back inside the box for the note to explain the change in taste. Instead, you only find the thin, delicate wrapping paper and an empty box. You shake out the dress once more to make such nothing stuck to it and then lay it out on your bed to shake out the box. There is definitely no note.

“Odd,” you say to yourself, squinting at the dress. It’s really unlike your mother to not leave a note. You shrug it off however, seeing as how it’s not the oddest thing your mother has done before. You make sure to hang the dress as to not wrinkle it until this evening.

---

The dress is even more striking on your body than it was on its hanger. You smooth your hands over the bodice of it as you watch yourself in the looking glass. You dare say you look quite lovely in it. You adorn your neck with a silver chain necklace you’d received as a birthday gift a few years ago and do your hair into your favorite style for these occasions. While the low cut back does make you feel quite a bit more exposed than normal, the entire air of the gown gives you a boost of confidence to wear it proudly. Slipping on your shoes, you make your way to the feast.

The grand hall to the formal dining room is filled with people and noise as you enter. Few people turn to look at you as you enter, just one person in a crowd. Your eyes scan the hall as you walk through, looking for a friendly face to approach.

You always hate large gatherings like these simply because it puts pressure on you to find someone to socialize with. Standing on the wall and observing, as you would prefer most days, is unbecoming and sometimes seen as rude. While most of the faces here are familiar, there are few you’d fancy speaking to. This leaves you walking down the middle of the hall, searching for any such person and as you walk through the center of so many people, you feel as though you notice more heads turn your way. You ignore it and continue on your way until you see Thor, Sif, and The Warrior’s Three near the entrance door.

Sif notices you first and she does the smallest double take in the midst of their laughter before giving you a sly look from the corner of her eye that you don’t quite understand. You wear a casual smile as you approach them and make yourself known.

“Evening all,” you greet, turning their eyes to you. “I trust everyone is behaving thus far?” You catch a slight widening of Thor’s eyes as his face freezes in place for no more than half a second.

“Now what fun would that be?” Volstagg bellows, taking a drink from the tankard of mead already in his hand. When his eyes fall upon you, the drink is spluttered back into its cup as he roughly coughs out a formal, “My lady.” Fandral claps him on the back to aid clearing his lungs as they all laugh.

“I believe that was meant to imply he likes your outfit tonight,” Sif teases. You shift uncomfortably and give a shy smile, suddenly unable to ignore that feeling of everyone looking at you. “He’s just not articulate enough to say so.”

“You do look quite lovely tonight,” Hogun confirms in a much softer and kinder tone. Sif swiftly links her arm into yours and pulls you close to her side.

“She looks lovely every night,” she says firmly. “You buffoons just never notice a woman unless a certain amount of skin is showing.” You can’t help the small smile on your lips as all four men start blabbering excuses. “If you’ll excuse us,” she interrupts. “Us women have better things to attend to than you gentlemen.” She pulls you away by your arm and you give a little cheeky wave to the boys as she whisks you away, feeling much more confident and less embarrassed.

“You always know just how to handle them,” you compliment her as she walks you off to a quieter corner.

“You say that as if you haven’t put them in their place yourself before.” She unlinks your arms and swipes some drinks off of a passing server’s tray.

“Never with quite the finesse you use.” You take one of the drinks from her and clink them together before each taking a swallow. “I haven’t been around as much as I used to.”

“You’ve become quite the busy woman,” she agrees. “There’s been some curiosity about who you’ve been spending your time with.” She peers at you from over her drink and your mouth drops open.

“No one!” you protest. Her eyes drop to your gown.

“Are you quite sure?” A coy smile is on her lips when she lowers her drink. “That dress is quite a statement piece.”

“You know my mother always picks out my formalwear,” you chastise her. Sif huffs a laugh.

“That does not look like your mother’s doing.” Before you can argue, there’s a hand on your shoulder and your mother is sweeping into the conversation herself.

“Oh I know, but the shop keeper talked me into it at the last moment,” she explains, slipping her hand down to yours and guiding your arm out to the side to admire you. “It certainly is bold, isn’t it? A little change is good.” She lowers her arm and smiles proudly. “Can’t have you dressing like an old maiden now, can we?”

“Mother, a simple change of wardrobe isn’t going to suddenly marry me off.” She shrugs, brushing off your scolding and smiles at Sif who passes you an apologetic look.

“And you look dashing as always, Lady Sif,” she compliments. Sif nods her head in muted gratitude. “Come now, we must find our seats.” Your mother links her arm in yours and for the second time this evening, you’re pulled away.

---

The meal itself, filled with loud commotion over casual conversation, passes quickly. The food is, as always, plentiful and delicious if not a little extravagant. Drink flows easily among the tables, sometimes a little too literally as clumsy hands spill it across the table cloth. You are among one of the firsts to stand and make your way to slightly less crowded and loud sections of the halls.

You venture out towards the gardens where only a few stray people have wandered to yet. The open back of your dress sends a slight chill down your spine, but the longer you stay outside, the less you feel it. You lean your arms on a fence railing and slowly inhale the aroma of the surrounding flowers.

“My lady,” a timid voice says from behind you. You look over your shoulder to see a lad dressed in formal guard’s wear and looking at you with a young face. “I am Fazil Devereux.” He offers you a bow and your body tenses in preparation for what you expect to be an awkward conversation with whom you assume to be Lord Devereux’s eldest son. “I am hoping to steal away a little of your time this evening.”

“That’s very kind of you,” you say gently and formally. “I am, however, quite tired and should retire for the evening.” He gives you an unexpected smile.

“Your mother told me you may decline at first.” You have a hard time keeping a polite look on your face. “I won’t be dissuaded so easily.” His voice is full of young confidence, the kind that tries too hard to be real. The poor lad is trying to be bold in an effort to be attractive and, unfortunately for him, failing.

“Fazil,” you start, ready to change to a sharper tactic if he doesn’t ease soon. You use his name instead of his title, removing your obligated politeness and formality to the interaction. “I don’t think you-”

“There you are!” Thor’s voice booms, interrupting your rejection. He’s besides you in no more than two steps, a hand gently at your elbow. He makes a show of noticing Fazil in front of you, as if he hadn’t seen him prior. “Apologies for the intrusion my good fellow,” His voice is quite loud and you recognize it as his show voice. “I have things I must discuss with my advisor.” There’s a small mixture of fear in the disappointment in Fazil’s eyes as he bows his head.

“Of course, sire.” He looks back to you. “Another time then perhaps.” You give him a clearly forced smile, though you doubt he notices the difference. Once he’s out of earshot, you turn to Thor.

“Thank you,” you whisper with a slight laugh. He smiles warmly down at you and leans against the railing himself.

“It was not a problem. I know a thing or two about unwanted pressures to find a partner.” You turn and lean back down onto the fence again, sighing.

“Yes, but I’m sure your pressures are greater.” You would never dare to think your woes equal to those of the will-be-king.

“Unwanted advances are unwanted advances,” he says. “Comparisons are not needed.” Your lips tilt up softly. Sometimes you forget how kind and even wise Thor can be. He’s grown quite a lot from the boy he used to be. It’s admirable. “You do look very beautiful tonight,” he tells you carefully. “You drew the eye of many men and women.” You begin to feel your face heat. It was not your intention to draw any eyes at all, but it does fill you with a touch more confidence, if you’re honest. Thor looks at the dress again. “It’s a good color on you, which is ironic,” he laughs, looking out whimsically over the flowers.

“Why is that?” you question. His smile is contagious.

“That is my brother’s signature color.” The smile drops from your face. “I must admit he wore it well, but I do dare to say you wear it better than he ever did.” You stick the smile back onto your face when he turns to look at you, fully entertained by his own musings, but he still sees the unease in your eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” You nod. “I just got a chill is all.” The lie swallows easily and Thor lifts his hand to his neck to unbutton the thick cape he adorns.

“Here.” Ever the gentleman, he sweeps his cape off of his shoulders and onto your own even as you politely protest. He steps closer to fasten the button at the front of your neck carefully before fanning the fabric around your body. His hands land on your shoulders and linger, giving you a short squeeze.

“Thank you.” You must admit that it does help the chill and with your back and the dress now covered, you’re breathing a breath of relief all of a sudden. “I don’t believe I’ll be staying much longer though.” Thor gives your shoulders one more squeeze.

“Then you may return it on another day.” He lets his hands fall from you and steps back, still smiling. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.” With one more nod from the both of you and a smile over his shoulder as he departs, Thor leaves you to your thoughts.

You linger for barely a minute before your feet are whisking you away in such a hurry that you don’t notice how the garden has filled with more people.

---

“My Lady,” Decimus greets in surprise. “I was not expecting you tonight with the feast.” He straightens and moves to leave his post. “I will retrieve a chair for you.”

“There’s no need,” you assure him, holding out your hand to stop him before passing by. “I won’t be staying long.” Your feet carry you quite quickly to Loki’s cell.

“Well, well, well,” he hums from his spot on his bed as he sees you round the corner. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Was this you?” you ask hurriedly as you poke your arms out through the edges at the front of the cape, showing the sleeves of the dress.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect to get the pleasure of seeing you in it.” He sits up from where he’s lounging and smiles. “My brother’s cloak does not make a good accessory.” There’s a slight bitterness in his tone and you snap your arms back underneath the shield of the cape.

“How did you manage this?” you ask, your bafflement not having faded. “And why?” He shrugs.

“There are still people out there who owe me favors even when I’m locked away in here.” He stands and starts to walk towards you. “Your mother was very easy to convince, I heard. And as for the why part…” He sighs and shrugs again as he gets to the barrier. “It’s a gift.”

“A gift?” you scoff.

“There’s only so much I can offer from within the confines of my prison.” His words sound genuine, which somehow makes you distrust them. “You’ve given me books and companionship. The least I could do is give you a pretty dress worthy of your beauty.”

“You cannot buy me with pretty things,” you tell him, pushing back the blush from his compliment. His smile widens.

“Ah, but I have no need to buy you. I already have your company on a regular basis. I have nothing to gain from such a gift except for your gratitude, should you give it.” You see his eyes try to peer into the cape, to see the dress, but the large fabric hides it well.

“You get off on manipulation and playing with people,” you counter, refusing to let yourself be fooled with soft words. “You gain pure entertainment and pleasure by slipping me into this gown and me parading around in your signature color.” His eyes shift a shade darker, the smile melting into a smirk.

“Is that what you think?” He brings his forearm above his head and rests it on the barrier. “That I lay here in this cell and bring myself to heights of pleasure to the thought of you wearing my color?” Your mouth snaps shut, having stumbled your way into something you hadn’t meant to. Images you’ll never admit you’ve wondered about before are suddenly filling your head. “I assure you my pleasures would come from slipping you out of the gown, not into it.” Your hands fiddle together beneath the cape, breath caught in your throat. “But if you’re so sure, come now.” His eyes trace down you once with a slight nod. “Let me see it on you.” At this point, you’re not sure if he’s demanding or begging. You feel that rush of confidence and it turns to boldness as you lift your fingers up to the button at your neck.

“A show of gratitude, as you called it,” you rationalize as you enjoy the look of surprise in his eyes, having caught him off guard for once.

He remains silent as you push the cape from your shoulders and let it billow onto the floor. His eyes take their time traveling down every inch of your body and then slowly back up again. His breathing is forcedly slow, but his hand above his head has clenched into a fist. He licks his lips once before he speaks again, his voice a husky silk draping over you.

“Turn for me.”

There’s no hesitation in you as you slowly spin around, careful not to let your feet tangle in the cape as you do so. There’s a hiss from Loki when your back is exposed to him and you pause to look over your shoulder at him. There’s always been flirtation, the tease of something, but the way he’s looking at you now leaves no room for debate between either of you; there’s an attraction here. In this moment, you can’t pretend it’s one-sided either.

“Perfect place for a man to place his hand, isn’t it?” you ask coyly. His fist tightens as his hand hanging by his thigh harshly flexes in contrast. “Is that why you chose this one?” You begin to turn again so you can face him. “So you could imagine your hands on me?” He crooks his finger at you, beckoning you closer. Lifting the hem of the dress to avoid tripping, you approach the barrier.

“Do you wish to know what I imagine?” His voice is low and leans down towards you. “I can show you.”

“Show me?” you ask skeptically. Your hand comes to the barrier and his follows, reaching to touch you if only he could.

“Oh yes,” he chuckles. You see movement behind him and it startles you. You shift away from the barrier and he leans for you to see more clearly.

You’re looking at yourself. He’s projected an image of you standing beside an image of himself. You are facing away, the smooth of your back in full view in your dress. The image of him faces you, his hand teasing your shoulder with his fingertips as he watches your image’s face intently.

“I can show you all sorts of things.” The real Loki draws your attention back to him. “You may not be able to touch me, pet, but that doesn’t mean you can’t see it happen.” You can barely feel your feet on the ground and you know the barrier between you is the only thing stopping you from making a very, very bad decision.

“Is that what you do when you’re feeling lonely?” you ask him teasingly. “Put on a little show for yourself?”

“I wonder which answer it is you’re hoping for,” he teases right back. He has no interest in the illusion behind him and you find yourself unable to look away from the flesh and blood man in front of you too. He raises his hand, traces his finger along the barrier before your cheek. “For a man of illusions, I much prefer the real thing.”

“As do I.” There’s a flicker behind him as your images dissolve, but you pay little attention to it.

“Perhaps one day,” he muses.

“Perhaps.” There’s a slightly somber pause that allows the tension to fade enough for you to release yourself from his pull. “I can’t stay,” you tell him regretfully.

“I’m sure the feast wore you out tonight.” He sighs heavily and allows his hands to drop away and lean back.

“It was quite the event,” you admit. “And now I’m sure I’ll have to avoid prying eyes seeing as how I wore what Thor pointed out to me is your color.” Loki chuckles softly as you back away to gather the cloak and refasten it around your neck.

“I have a feeling the court will be much more interested in you walking around in and leaving the feast in Thor’s cloak.” You scoff at him and his notion.

“No one would believe Thor and I are anything of an item.” You readjust yourself and ready to bid him goodnight.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

~~~

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It has been probably my favorite to write. Let me know you liked it by liking, commenting, reblogging, or if you’re really feeling generous, buy me a coffee! 

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[muertawrites]

Two Halves - Chapter Ten (Zuko x Reader)

Part Nine

Word Count: 2,750

Author’s Note: We’ve had enough sad. Like, in general. So I wrote some happy for this week’s update. This chapter was originally going to be longer, but I decided to save the rest of it for next week since it ended pretty nicely where it is.

I feel like now is a good time to mention that I haven’t read the comics (I didn’t even know there were comics until like two months ago) so if you’ve been wondering why this story diverges so much from them, that’s why. I see the canon and I think it’s great, but it’s just so much more fun to write my own interpretations of what happened to everybody after the war. Sorry not sorry. 

I’m slowly getting back into the swing of things. I felt pretty okay yesterday, and I’m starting to not immediately hate everything I produce and am remembering how to talk myself up again after forgetting that anxiety and depression don’t rule my thoughts when it comes to my creativity. Things are still gonna be weird for a while, but we’ll be fine eventually. That’s how the human condition is - we always swing back at some point. 

~ Muerta

“What do you know about Fire Nation prisons?” 

You expect Rina to falter at the question. She doesn't even flinch, continuing to dress you as if you asked her what she’d had for breakfast. 

“What do you want to know?” she wonders in return. 

You gaze off, allowing your mind to roam as you consider her question. 

Since your return to the Fire Nation, Zuko’s attentive attitude hasn't changed, and your fondness for him has grown in ways you never expected it would. During council meetings, it’s become a habit to hold his hand under the table where your advisors can't see (though Yong has caught you once or twice, smirking as if you were two school children passing love notes during class). You spend more time together in the evenings before bed, and some nights you invite Zuko to sleep beside you, missing his presence since returning to separate rooms - he’s always gone before sunrise to discourage any scandal (despite the fact that you're married), never leaving without a kiss to your forehead and a murmur of, “See you soon.” It’s also become routine to meet him by the turtle duck pond when you each have a moment to spare, the little creatures getting so used to your presence that many of them freely approach you, pecking at your palms in the chance you have a treat for them. 

“My mother and I used to do this,” Zuko confides during one of your breaks; it's the first cool afternoon since the beginning of summer, a few leaves from the overhanging maple tree floating on the pond’s placid surface. “I remember throwing a rock at one of the ducklings when I was a kid. Its mother bit me.” 

You giggle, opening your hand so a young male can nibble at the apple peel you hold out to him; you attempt to scratch his head while he eats, and he squawks at you. 

“Good for her,” you jeer. “Serves you right for being a dick.” 

Zuko chuckles, the curl of his lips framing a hazy sadness in his eyes. 

“Azula did stuff like that all the time,” he sighs. “I always felt… bad. Our mother knew what she was when she was really young. I was the one who got all her kindness. Sometimes… I think it's my fault Azula ended up the way she did.” 

“It isn't,” you assure him. You tuck your hand into his. “Your parents played favorites. It wasn't fair.”

Zuko hums absently, his gaze drawn out across the courtyard. After a moment, he’s pulled back to you, a playful grin tugging at his mouth.

“You remind me of a turtle duck,” he states. “You look harmless. You're cute. But you could really fuck someone up if they provoked you.” 

You laugh, slipping your hand from his to teasingly shove his shoulder; the turtle ducks around you scatter as he mirrors your reaction, doing little to defend himself against your loving attack. 

“Did you just call me ‘cute’?” you tease, reaching to pinch at his cheek - he grimaces, taking your hand away from his face by recapturing it in his. “Are you going soft on me, Hothead?” 

He chuckles, mirthfully flicking an apple peel into your hair. You notice the blush that colors his neck, unable to deny your own.

“Oh, Turtleduck,” he says with mock pity. “Is Sokka so bad at flirting that you never learned to pick up on it?” 

He's used his new pet name for you almost every day since he coined it; every time he does, your heart soars out of your throat and into the clouds. 

Through your bedroom window, you can see Zuko on the porch behind your chambers, leaned casually against the railing as he chats with Aang. 

Aang says something that makes the older man laugh; your innards seem to melt as the lines around the corners of Zuko’s eyes and lips wrinkle like folds in a bedsheet. Something in the scene riles you - you’ll slit a hundred men’s throats to protect that smile and the feeling it gives you. 

“This is about Azula,” Rina observes. 

One thing you've learned in your short time with her is that you can't keep secrets from her - chances are she already knows all of them. 

“I just want to know what her living situation is like,” you tell her, “how powerful she could actually be from inside a prison cell.” 

“You have a merciful husband,” Rina sighs, somewhat dreamily . “Azula doesn't live in a prison; he put her in a compound in the Si Wong desert. She's heavily guarded and follows strict schedules and rules, but he didn't want her to live the rest of her life in a cage.” 

“What about Ozai?” you ask. 

“He’s in a prison. I said your husband was merciful, not that he doesn't hold a grudge.” 

You smirk, momentarily eased from the worry that strains your mind. 

“Do either of them have access to the outside world?” you press. 

Rina shakes her head. 

“Azula has very little; the last she heard of anything outside the compound was your marriage announcement. Ozai has absolutely none. All the guards that keep both of them are from the unoccupied Earth Kingdom, so they have no allegiance to them, and only a select few guards are allowed to speak to Azula.” 

“So… there's no way they could be the masterminds of any of this?” 

Rina lifts her gaze from the sash she cinches at your waist, her dark, round eyes meeting yours; her expression is blank, but she speaks in a determined hush. 

“I can't say for certain. But Azula’s intelligence is violent and cunning; she sees things from a different perspective that isn't entirely human. She has insights that more empathetic people would never consider.” 

You nod slowly, understanding. 

“I'll talk to Aang.”

Katara arrives from the Southern Tribe a few hours before the banquet you're hosting in Aang’s honor is scheduled to begin. You accompany her husband and yours to the imperial docks, a massive grin breaking across your cheeks the moment you spot her on the ship’s deck; she sends you a large, sweeping wave, catching you in her arms as soon as she's close enough to do so. 

“I'm so glad you're okay,” she cries into your ear. “How do you feel?” 

You nod, holding her by the waist as she pulls away. Her grip doesn't loosen, her arms still coiled around yours in an affectionate embrace. 

“I'm good,” you assure her. “I'm tough.” 

She smiles, pulling you in to kiss your cheek before turning to Zuko, greeting him with a warm hug. When she reaches Aang, her gestures are much slower, more tender. He takes her chin between two fingers and kisses her gently, his other hand positioned low on her waist as it presses her tightly against him; the action is so out of character for the two - typically so lively and averse to such kinds of public affection - that you and Zuko share an instinctive, curious glance. 

“Did we forget their anniversary or something?” you whisper, fear jolting through you when a look of panic crosses his features. 

“... I don't think so,” he says after a pause. “Maybe… he just missed her?” 

The confusion on his face is endearing - he's more emotionally intelligent than most people, but he's the last person who knows it. 

“Could be,” you agree. “This is the longest they've been apart in years.” 

The two of you watch as Aang assists Katara into Appa’s saddle, another strange behavior considering how used to flying Katara is. Neither of them seem to notice your staring, Aang leaning in for another lingering kiss before taking his place at the reins.

You return to the palace and are met with commotion, servants and high-level diplomats scrambling this way and that in a flustered frenzy. Everyone immediately alerts, prepared for yet another catastrophe. 

“What's going on?” Zuko demands as Rina approaches you; she doesn't hide her sneer at his brash tone, and you smirk as he apologetically shrinks back. 

“You have visitors, come to give their congratulations for your marriage,” Rina explains. 

“Who?” Zuko wonders. 

“Sun Warriors. They're waiting for you in the throne room.” 

Zuko and Aang exchange a look of shock. As you're ushered through the halls of the administrative wing and into the throne room, you take Aang by the arm, pulling him close so you can whisper to him. 

“Who are the Sun Warriors?” you ask. 

“They were the first fire benders,” Aang tells you. “They were supposedly wiped out, but Zuko and I met them when we visited their island at the beginning of my fire bending training. Their existence is supposed to be a secret.” 

“Then why would they come here?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine.” 

The throne room is silent - empty save for your entourage and guests - but a constant, electric buzz seems to hang in the air. Zuko falls into step beside you, taking your arm in his as you approach the group of visitors gathered before the throne; their clothing suggests Fire Nation, but from a different world, ancient to the point of almost primal. Each person present is decorated in baroque jewelry, glimmering gold and laced with vibrantly colored beads placed in intricate, deliberate patterns. Their faces are painted in stark lines of red and white, some across their noses and cheeks and under their eyes, others over their chins and foreheads; the makeup is so similar to Water Tribe markings that your eyes widen, unable to stop yourself from leaning in as you attempt to get a better look while also remaining dignified. The warriors are also much more robust than their mainland counterparts, with stocky builds and robust features - they remind you of your own people, leaving you in awe. 

“Chief Sunan,” Zuko addresses the leader of the group, bowing low as he speaks; you follow suit, leveling your gaze with the floor. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit?” 

The chief smiles faintly, warmly at the two of you, bowing in return. 

“We are not so cut off from the outside world that we have not heard of your marriage,” he says. “News has traveled to us of the strength of your union, and the tenacity of your bride. As Firelord, you have protected us, and made strides to restore the ancient ways of the element - we have come to give you our thanks, and offer our blessings to the both of you.” 

Chief Sunan steps aside then, making way for a man and woman carrying a basket between them; they lower it at your feet, bowing as they step back to rejoin their people. 

“A gift,” the chief proclaims. His muted grin morphs into something more knowing, almost mirthful as he watches Zuko approach the offering. 

You rest a supportive hand on Zuko’s back as he leans forward, lifting the lid of the basket to reveal its contents; he raises a bundle of blankets from the vessel, his eyes growing wide as he peels the fabric back. 

Inside the package is a dragon, just small enough to be cradled in his arms. Its scales are a gorgeous crimson, glinting and shifting between hues of gold and turquoise in the light cast from Zuko’s bended fire that surrounds his empty throne. The little beast peers up at its new parent with amber eyes that mirror your husband’s. Zuko lets out an astonished breath, raising his gaze to meet Chief Sunan’s. 

“I can’t accept this,” he states, so quietly that only you and the chief can make out the words. 

“You must,” Chief Sunan counters, his smile never faltering. “The masters insisted.” 

Under your palm, you feel Zuko’s body tense. He nods, cautiously settling the tiny dragon into your arms; you hold the bundle tightly, reaching in to stroke gently at the baby’s nose. It purs appreciatively, and your heart swells. 

Zuko bows, lowering himself to the floor in the ultimate display of respect. 

“Thank you,” he says. “I vow to protect him with my life.” 

When he once again stands, he looks to Rina. 

“Accommodate them however they need,” he commands. “Send a group of our Kyoshi Warriors to the island to guard it from outsiders.” 

Rina nods, scurrying off immediately to delegate the tasks. Chief Sunan then approaches you, resting a hand on your shoulder; you meet his eyes with slight fear, but find only kindness looking back at you. 

“We are grateful our bloodlines will merge once again,” he tells you. “The origin of our people is a history that has been lost to time, long before the war was even a speck on the horizon. You see, the Sun Warriors are descendents of migrant peoples from the earliest ancestors of the Southern Water Tribe as well as the Fire Nation - what our mothers and fathers knew of water bending shaped our understanding of fire. Your union brings our people together once again, as they should be.” 

Zuko wraps an arm around your waist, proudly pulling you against his side. You draw in a shaky breath, leaning into him as you nod, tears pooling along the lines of your lower eyelids. 

“It’s an honor to finally meet you,” you say. “I’ll do everything to make sure we regain our lost history. I promise.” 

Chief Sunan smiles temperately and nods, his fingers contracting around your shoulder in an appreciative grasp. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. “We are proud to call you our queen.” 

You invite the Warriors to stay for the night, Aang eagerly informing them of the banquet you have planned; by the time your reception of the unexpected visitors is finished, there's little more than an hour before it begins. 

Zuko brings your new ward back to your quarters, keeping him tucked protectively under his arms until you shut the sitting room door securely behind you. He then unravels the blankets the little creature is wrapped in, allowing him to explore his new home. 

“I thought dragons were extinct,” you marvel, watching as the fabled reptile twists and turns his body around every piece of furniture he encounters, inspecting everything he sees with humanlike interest. You smile, endeared by his wonder. 

“There are two still living,” Zuko explains. He kneels down beside the dragon, offering him a bit of a rice cracker from the box you keep in a side table for your nightly tea. “Three, now, I guess. The other two are the fire bending masters Aang and I had to seek approval from after I joined their team. Honestly, I thought they were both males.” 

“You must have made a good impression for them to trust you with their kid,” you remark, stifling a bit of laughter at his confession. “Maybe this’ll get Yong to stop bugging us about getting me knocked up.” 

Zuko chuckles, glancing up at you with an impish grin; the suggestive expression makes you blush, and you try to not admit to yourself that the excitement it sparks isn't unwelcome. 

The baby dragon lets out a mewling growl as he wraps himself around Zuko’s shoulders. He blows a minuscule jet of flame into the Firelord’s face, which Zuko mimics. You feel like squealing. 

“What should we call him?” you ask, lowering yourself onto the floor beside your husband. You hold a finger out to the dragon, which he curiously takes into one of his clawed hands. 

“Druk,” Zuko answers. “He looks like a Druk, doesn’t he?” 

You nod, your cheeks pinkened by the smile that’s plastered itself across your face; Zuko’s eyes meet yours with the same joyed expression. He maneuvers himself closer to you, resting his hand atop yours in your lap. As his fingers curl around your palm, you become achingly aware of just how near to you he is, and in a way that’s no longer friendly - the tension is heavier now, strained under the weight of a giddy, fluttering mania that leaves you dizzy. You don’t have to wonder if he feels the same. 

“Guess we’re parents now,” Zuko jokes, his voice barely above a breath. 

You giggle, taking the chance of leaning in to brush your lips to his. Your skin hardly touches; you’re too nervous to dive in and taste him, and for a moment after you pull away, you fear you may have imagined the glancing kiss. The fire that flares across Zuko’s cheeks tells you you didn’t. 

“Yeah,” you smirk, speaking in a murmur. “Guess we are.” 

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[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-4)

Word count: 4.6K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: None

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​​ I love you, Athina <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

Sam’s POV

The ringing got to the point where Sam reached out and almost flung the phone across the room. It was the first time in over a week that he’d actually managed to fall asleep, that too in the early hours of the morning. Who was even calling this early?

He opened one eye to read the name on the screen and promptly sat up in his bed.

“Dean?” He answered. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah!” Dean’s voice sounded absolutely normal on the other side, goofy even. “I just woke up super early to go for a walk. For the first time. I thought you’d be proud. It was your idea after all.”

“Dean,” Sam groaned. “It’s five in the morning.”

“Aren’t you always up at five anyway?”

He had a point, but today was not the day.

“If it’s nothing important, I’m going back to bed,” Sam declared. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a while.”

“Aren’t you by yourself for like two more weeks? What’s keeping you up now?”

Nightmares, horrors and well, the woman I had loved with all my heart who abandoned me seven years ago?

Sam almost said it. Almost. The words died on his lips, though.

“It’s nothing. I’m just really tired,” he said finally.

“Those guys at work still giving you a hard time?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Nobody is giving me a hard time! It was one case and over a year ago. I’m not five. You can’t kick people’s asses for me anymore.”

“Just give me the names.”

Sam laughed. For the first time in a week, the knot in his chest loosening. Maybe that’s what he needed. He should have called his brother sooner. 

Dean deserved to know about Y/N. Hell, Sam should have called him the moment he walked out of that classroom. He would have, too, had it not taken him a whole  day to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t dreaming to begin with. 

That’s where he saw her afterall… She was the part of his worst nightmare. He would be damned though, if she wasn't also the loveliest dream he’d ever dreamt, ever felt.

“Sam?” Dean asked. “Did you fall asleep on me?”

“No.”

“Okay, I lied,” Dean admitted. “I’m not exercising or anything. I just couldn’t fall asleep. I don’t know, man. I had this weird feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right with you.”

Sam held his breath, feeling a strange ache within him. Dean always knew. 

“Everything’s alright, Dean.” I am just slowly going insane here.

There was a heavy pause and Sam was almost convinced that Dean could see through his bullshit. When Dean spoke, his voice held a gravity. “If there’s anything, and I mean anything at all, you’ll call me, right?”

“Who else do I even have?” Sam said in a low defeated voice. “Of course I’ll call you.”

“Now you get back in that bed, and sleep your ass off!”

Amazing how his brother could be so insightful one minute and order him around like he was a three year old the next.

“Bye, Dean.”

“Bye, Sammy.”

*click*

Sam fell back into his bed, staring at the perfect beige ceiling. It hadn’t been more than two years since he’d moved in the faculty accoms and what with all that had happened since, he’d never had the time to move out, or even properly look for a better place.

He closed his eyes, knowing perfectly well how pointless it was. Sleep wasn’t going to come… what came instead was the image of her, looking at him with absolute horror from the top row of the lecture hall. And despite everything that had happened, Sam had wanted nothing more than to run across the steps and hold her in his arms. Hold her so tight and never let go.

However, before he could move, she had fled the room, like mirage. Leaving him to question if it had been real at all. Maybe the years had got to him and he was hallucinating. It was the first time in his career that he’d frozen on the dais. And only when someone called his name, had he come back to the now.

In fact, he’d been so sure that it had just been a play of his mind, that he’d left the class promptly and actually verified the student admission list from the administration office.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

After that all he could do was walk back to his house aimlessly.

This couldn’t be happening. What was he going to do? Run back to her? Find her and then what?

Things weren’t the same now. He didn’t know anything about her life anymore.

Then the anger came.

How dare she? How could she have absolutely destroyed him like that and then come waltzing back into his life just when he had managed to put it back together, painfully and piece by piece.

He could go back and take a look at her entire application; know what she had been up to. But would that even matter?

Sam had spent the whole day just sitting by himself in the dark, and even the next. Calls from work, and college be damned. He couldn’t go in there and pretend like he didn’t care, that he didn’t want to rage and riot and ask her why she had left him like that! 

But he was more than just a heartbroken man. And he wasn’t twenty five anymore. He had responsibilities now, people who looked up to him. So locking himself up wasn’t an option. He had to face the world, even when he didn’t want to. Especially then.

When he stepped into the room on Friday, he’d made up his mind to not look for her. The eye contact might not mean anything to her, but it just might be his undoing. And after all he had been through, he couldn’t fall apart now. These were his students and they didn’t need to see that.

As it turned out, he needn’t have worried at all. Y/N wasn’t there. Had she run off again? Was it really such a bad thing for her to be in the same room as him? 

It took him a while to get on track. Knowing that she wasn’t there, did help, made it easier to concentrate, easier to set out the syllabus.

Over the weekend, Sam made a game plan- pretend that she didn’t exist, whether or not she attended classes. If he convinced himself that she was still gone, he could go on with the lecture. After all, he could do it for two hours a day. It shouldn’t have to be that hard.

It was very hard.

She wore purple on Monday, and he’d be damned if he didn’t admit that his heart sped up when he saw her. That one glance was all Sam allowed himself. It took every ounce of his will power to concentrate on what he was speaking. 

It did not get any easier as the week passed. Sam did get better at controlling his face, if not his emotions and by Thursday, even managed a few jokes that hit the mark. All the while, he didn’t dare look at her, still not confident that he could handle it. It helped that he was busy with a twisted property matter at work that required multiple trips to the court. It kept him engaged and his mind occupied.

Sam was so ready for the weekend by the time Friday rolled in. One more class and he’d be free of the agony for two more days. 

He did not look at her still. He came very close once, when the girl right ahead of her answered a question, but his gaze only lasted long enough to make out that she was wearing beige today. 

In the minutes after the class ended, a small group of students gathered around him asking doubts about the topic. It was a somewhat hard concept to understand, and it provided him with further distraction.

Next to them, a commotion caught his eye, A boy was standing on the side of the dias. Right next to him stood Y/N.

“Thank you, but I already have plans for the weekend,” she said, her voice polite. 

Sam clenched his fists. The sound of her voice was enough to repeal each and every effort he’d put into remaining fortified through the week.

Her voice was just as soft and kind. Without consciously deciding to, he abandoned the conversation he was having completely to listen to her, yearning more for the sound of her voice like his life depended on it. Another girl had joined Y/N and the boy. Then, Y/N left, without saying anything.

“Mr. Winchester?”

Sam wrenched himself back into the conversation.  It was the girl who had answered his question. 

“Mr. Winchester, my name’s Rebecca Staten,” she said, leaning close. “What about the internship applications? At Acton Griswold.”

Sam wanted to roll his eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. The hiring is all HR, and I have little to no say in it.”

“Oh, but it would be wonderful getting to work with you.”

Sam backed away quickly, grabbing his case and laptop. “I assure you working with me is highly overrated. See you next week!” He concluded and left the class in a hurry.

The moment he was out, the anger returned, at her and himself. She didn’t care about what happened to him, and yet here he was pining after her like a lovestruck teenager. She already had plans, while he spent his evenings in darkness trying to get her out of his head.

Now, Sam lay in his bed, still clutching to his phone even after Dean had long hung up.

It was 5:30 and for once he didn’t feel like stepping out of his bed. Who knew? Maybe the world had some more crap to fling in his face.

Sam closed his eyes remembering the day when he’d first realised what she meant to him.

*******************************

21st July 2006

“If you stayed quiet any longer, I’d have to start worrying,” Dean said, glancing at his brother from the driver’s seat.

“What?” Sam shrugged.

“You know what I’m talking about!”

“You don’t know shit!”

Dean shushed, glancing at a sleeping Jo in the backseat of their car. “She had a rough night,” Dean whispered. “Stop shouting. You’ll wake her up.”

So much concern. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you’re the one to act pricey,” Dean hissed. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s up with you.”

“What’s up with me?”

“It’s that girl, Y/N. Isn’t it?” Dean asked. “You’re worried about her.”

Sam said nothing. What was he going to tell Dean when he himself didn’t know why he was so worried for her.

She had gone mute with shock at first when Jo broke the news to her. Slowly as her face started to crumple, she looked at him once and excused herself to go upstairs. Jo had given him one sympathetic look as he stood there in the middle of their living room, then followed her cousin to the room. He had seen himself out after the maddening urge to run after Y/N, hold her and comfort her had been squished. Afterall, he barely knew her… it wasn’t his place to comfort her in any way… and yet, it had simply felt wrong to walk out of that house knowing she was distraught.

He had been restless since, unable to concentrate on preparation for his interview. Her sweet smile and then the shocked look on her face kept coming back to him, to the point where he regretted not following her to her room. Maybe, just maybe she would have let him help.

Ellen had driven Y/N to her hometown that evening, while Jo had stayed back to look after the diner. Dean, who Sam suspected was more than just sweet on her had been making home calls for leaking sinks and what not.

Now it was his turn to drive her to the funeral. Sam had ridden along without really explaining to either of them… why? He needed to figure that one out for himself first.

“I just- I don’t even know why I’m going there,” Sam said, finally. “I mean, you’re driving your girlfriend. What am I doing?”

Surprisingly, Dean didn’t contest the girlfriend part, neither did he make a sarcastic retort.

“You have plenty of time to find out,” Dean said, without taking his eyes off the road. 

“She’s just so different,” Sam thought out loud. 

“You’re not wrong about that,” Jo said from the back seat. She was up and looked absolutely exhausted. “It’s so hard to get through to her.”

“What do you mean?”

Jo stretched her arms and ran her hands down her dress, trying to smoothen it. “I have never been close to her,” she said. “After my aunt and her husband died in the crash, Y/N went to stay with her grandmother. She visited us once in three years or so but never stayed for more than a week. She has always been quiet. Even as a kid she was polite and soft spoken. Don’t get me wrong, I liked her well enough, but I kinda dreaded her visits cause each time she came, mom would have a mini complex over how well-behaved she was and I was a mess.”

Dean chuckled, finding that funny for some reason.

“I love having her over now, though. And I get why she’s been so grown up. Her gran was pretty awesome. She took care of Y/N sure, but Y/N had to take care of her, too. Had to be sincere and not trouble the old lady. Her gran called her ‘the little ray of sunshine.’

Seemed apt enough to Sam. He’d rather die than admit to his brother and Jo, but there was this light that Y/N seemed so full of, that he couldn’t get enough of.

Sam shook his head, dispelling the insane thought, embarrassed.

“This, Y/N,” Dean asked, “She has anyone else?”

In the rear-view mirror, Sam saw Jo shaking her head sadly. 

“It’s just us now. I bet mom’s tried to get her to move in with us… but Y/N doesn’t budge. We’ve tried to get her to move here plenty of times.”

“But that meant she’d have had to leave her grandmother,” Sam said. “She wouldn’t have then. What’s stopping her now?”

“Self-respect,” Jo said the word like it was dubious.

Sam understood this better than Jo. The feeling that you were causing discomfort to others, that you were a burden… your existence, an obligation.

Bobby had loved him and Dean like his own kids and Karen had been so sweet, but deep down he and his brother always knew the sacrifices they’d had to make to raise two boys. Cutting the edges to make the ends meet. It had been the reason that the moment Dean was old enough, he’d moved out, pulling Sam with him. And Sam couldn’t have been prouder of his brother. They both missed Bobby and Karen, and the love and warmth, but, at least Bobby didn’t have to break his back overworking now. He could kickback a little and enjoy some privacy with his wife.

Dean was staring straight ahead. From the set of his mouth and the intensity of his eyes, Sam could make out the shift in his brother. A newfound respect for Y/N because of the luxury she had given up for the sake of her grandmother.

When Dean spoke, he confirmed it for Sam. “So, Y/N is by herself now?”

Y/N… and not ‘that girl.’

“It’s just awful,” Jo said angrily. “Y/N loved her gran more than anyone in the world. I don’t know how she’s going to get over this.” Then her voice steeled. “We’re not going to listen to her this time. She can’t live in that crap town by herself. She’ll have to move in with us now.”

“Won’t be that hard to convince her,” Sam added, “She’ll get her acceptances in a month or so and by fall she’ll be off to wherever anyway. It’ll be a matter of a few months. You can press that.”

“Yeah,” Jo said slowly, giving Sam a scrutinising look, like it was slowly dawning to her just how much he knew.

Sam cleared his throat and looked out of the window.

Jo pointed the directions to the church when they reached the town and Dean found the perfect parking spot. Sam adjusted his coat as he stepped inside the Church. The funeral was being held in the side room, and almost everyone from the small-ish town seemed to be there. Jo disappeared into the crowd immediately trying to find Ellen, and after a look to make sure that Sam was alright, Dean followed her.

This left Sam all by himself in a funeral full of strangers.

A few elderly women gave him a once over, trying to place him, and Sam moved away quickly, guessing that the family would be up ahead.

“... poor girl… I don’t know what else he has to live for now…”

Sam halted at the words.

Two middle aged women were talking to each other. The second one scoffed lightly. “Literally. Old Gertrude didn’t really own a fortune to leave behind. Just the old house and a now useless bakery. That girl can’t bake to save her life, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, don’t talk like that!” The first woman said, “That child’s distraught!”

“She’s no child,” said the other woman, whom Sam was beginning to hate, “She’s eighteen. At her age I was married to my Robert and little Jonathan was already on his way. Besides, she’s a jinx, don’t you think? Got her parents killed when he was a child and now…”

Sam walked away as fast as he could before he said something in anger that he would regret later.

At the very front, on the podium was a close casket. People moved slowly making hushed conversations around it. At the foot of the casket, next to the rows of chairs stood Ellen, in a sharp, black skirt and jacket, talking to a man in low voice. On the first two chairs sat Jo, Dean beside her. She seemed to be wiping her tears while Dean held her hand. 

Sam’s eyes scanned the milling crowd. Y/N was nowhere to be seen amongst them. He looked at the aisle and then at the chairs, finally spotting her on the last chair of the second row, sitting by herself, staring blankly ahead. Then, he noticed the little things… how people were looking at her and then averting their gaze. The expression on her face wasn’t exactly sorrow… it was the look a person’s face might hold after they had lost everything they had. Everything. Just looking at her filled Sam’s heart with dread. Those who wanted to meet her were unable to because Ellen strategically blocked the path to get to her. She’d engage them in a small talk and then they’d go away.

Sam cut across the line of chairs in the 5th row and reached the edge of the hall. The chairs had been arranged in a way that there was little no space left to walk, but Sam managed, flattening himself against the wall and inching towards where Y/N was sitting. He walked right past her to the seat beside her, but she didn’t notice, she didn’t even blink, just stared fixedly at the mural of wreathed flowers over the casket. 

“Y/N?” he said quietly, and she startled out of it, unseeing at first, then realising that he was there. 

“Sam.”

Her voice was thick and so unsteady that it broke Sam’s heart.

All he wanted to do was reach out and hug her, comfort her in anyway that he could. For now, he placed his hand over hers, something he had done before, so it wouldn’t make her uncomfortable.

“Sam,” she whispered again, gripping his hand tightly with her other. Tight enough to hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” he said fervently, feeling helpless at her pain. “Tell me. Is there anything I can do?”

She looked lost, her Y/E/C eyes flitting from his face to the side and back again. She was about to say something, but at the very moment the pastor called for attention. They were moving the casket. The pastor gestured to everyone to begin moving towards the cemetery. Over his shoulder, Sam could see Ellen giving him a curious look and she wasn’t the only one. There were so many pairs of prying and questioning eyes. To the point where Sam began to doubt whether Y/N would want to be seen with him. However, she held on to his hand steadily as she rose. He stood up with her. 

Y/N did not let go of his hand even as they walked to the churchyard, and Sam stopped giving a single care about what anyone was thinking. Her hold on him was steady, but her fingers still shook and her other hand was clutching the fabric of her plain grey dress tightly.

The pastor asked her if she had any last words to say for her grandmother. Y/N resolutely shook her head and they lowered the casket into the earth. People walked up to her to offer condolences, hugs and words of kindness, and she nodded in acknowledgement, eyes cast downwards.

Sam wondered how it looked to others. Did she appear to be a graceful image of grief? Elegant in her sorrow? Or whatever crap the crazy writers were writing these days. To him the shiver of her lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest was very clear... very there! She wasn’t some beautiful, solitary figure of sadness, she was a person, breathing and living, who was barely keeping it together.

Ellen was the last to hug her, tightly. Sam had to let go for her hand. 

“It’ll be alright, Darling,” Ellen said, stroking her Y/H/C hair. “It might not feel like it now, but things will be fine.”

No they wouldn’t. Things would never be fine, Sam knew. Not the fine that Y/N was used to… She’d just learn to live around the hollow of her missing Gran. One day at a time she’d get used to living like this… and that would become her new fine. 

Jo hugged the two of them behind and Y/N closed her eyes, damp now, returning the hug tightly.

Almost everyone but Sam, Dean, Jo, Ellen and Y/N had gone back to the church for the dinner.

“Do you want to go inside?” Ellen asked, when she finally disentangled herself.

Y/N shook her head. “I’d like to stay here for a while.”

Ellen looked unsure but she nodded. “I’ll be inside. You’ll come find me?”

Y/N nodded gratefully. 

“Okay then.”

Jo kissed her cousin on the cheek and left with her mother. 

Dean walked over to Y/N, his step somewhat hesitant. “I know what it’s like to lose your parents as a child,” he said quietly. So quietly that Sam could barely hear it. “And I know what it’s like to live your life for just that one person who is left behind with you-” he gaze flickered towards Sam- “I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. God knows I’d not want to live for a minute if something happened to- happened to Sammy.” 

She looked up, a spark of fear in her eyes. Her whole frame jerked. Dean was taken aback just for a split second before an understanding look dawned on his face. Sam didn’t recognise even a bit of what had just passed between them.

He was even more surprised when all of a sudden Dean opened his arm and Y/N let him hug her briefly. 

He might have whispered something, or it might have been nothing at all, but when he let go, she held on to his sleeve.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, her eyes brimming now, tears starting to flow earnestly for the first time. 

“You look after yourself now,” Dean said gently. “I’ll see you inside.”

He clapped Sam on the shoulder and after casting one long look at her, Sam turned to leave with his brother.

“Sam!”

Her voice was stronger now, and no sooner had she uttered the words, he was moving to be next to her.

“Will you… will you stay with me?” She asked, eyes expectant, and beyond anguished.

“Of course,” he said breathlessly.

He looked back to ask his brother to leave, but Dean was already at the gate of the churchyard, walking further away.

The sun was setting against the horizon in front of them, and the chill in the air was beginning to settle. Y/N rapped her arms around herself. Sam remembered the first time he had seen her do that, outside the bar. He would have shrugged out of his coat had Y/N not unfolded her wrap and thrown it over her shoulders. She leaned towards him, and as if it was the most natural thing to do, Sam wrapped one arm around her shoulder, drawing her close against his side. He let  her borrow whatever warmth she needed on this cold, cruel evening. 

“Sam,” Y/N said after a while. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

He didn’t reply, simply ran his hand over the side of her arm, as they stood silently in front of the freshly covered grave.

*******************************

Sam opened his eyes, almost smelling the air from that evening, almost feeling the heat of her body. Then sighed.

He needed to stop doing this to himself. Some might say it would have been easier to forget it all. Sam didn’t believe in that. He’d revisited the memories that meant so much to him over and over, till he remembered the last detail, till he could go relive them at his beck and call.

Of course they brought a boat load of pain, even the good memories, but Sam considered it a good bargain, all things considered. He hadn’t wanted to live a day where he couldn’t remember the precise colour of her eyes, or the sweet shyness of her smile.

And now precisely this habit of his was screwing him over when the real Y/N was right in front of him, and he couldn’t reach out to touch her like he could in the memories.

Then again, the real Y/N didn’t care for him one way or another.

Sleep wasn’t going to come purely because it was a Saturday. Lying around in bed was pointless. He rolled over in the bed and his eyes fell on the photo on his night stand. 

Looking at the picture, the loneliness hit afresh. The person in the photo had become his sole reason to live as a functional human for the past two years. Sam missed those arms around his neck more than he could put into words. The missing was so bad, that it almost twisted his guts.

“Two more weeks,” he reminded himself. Two more weeks and he could see that face, that dimpled smile again. It was his reason to smile.

He placed a kiss on the frame and got out of the bed. Better to be productive than mope around all day. And who knew, if he managed to get busy, maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t think about Y/N.

*******************************

A/N 2: So now that we something about Sam. What are y’all thinking? ;)

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[rosieshipper]

Endgame rewrite Part one

Summary: Rose and the rest of the avengers return to the compound after Thanos’s victory. After Tony returns to Earth, Rose stays by his side while the others go to find Thanos

A/N: This is the first part to my endgame rewrite series! Aricka belongs to @aricka-and-her-fictional-others! Thank you for letting me borrow her!!

It was a long and quiet ride back to the compound in America. No one spoke a word to anyone during the ride. Rose was sitting near the back of the quinjet, Natasha having an arm wrapped around her and rubbing her back while she cried silently to herself, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. Rose had just lost one of the most important people in her life. Her girlfriend, Wanda. She collapsed into dust while Rose was holding her in her arms

Sniffing quietly, Rose reached up and wiped away her tears as best as she could. “I told you I’m fine, Nat. You don’t need to fuss over me.” She said with a hoarse voice as she looked back at her aunt. “Nonsense. You wouldn’t be crying so hard if you’re fine.” Nat lightly chastised her. “I’ll be fine. You shouldn’t be worrying about me. I just..want to get home. I want to see mom. I need to know if she’s ok because I haven’t seen her in two years. She needs to know that I’m alive.” Rose rambled, starting to get overwhelmed

Nat noticed her becoming worked up and gently rubbed her back to try and calm her down. “I know you want to get home and we’re gonna get home. Pepper is gonna be there, don’t you worry.” Nat told her gently as she hugged her close. At that, Rose let out a shaky sigh, hugging her aunt back. “She’s right, Rosie. You shouldn’t overwhelm yourself more than you already are.” Rose looked up when her other aunt, Aricka spoke up

Rose tried to say something but her mind wouldn’t let her. There was just too much going on in her thoughts to the point where she could just barely speak. Sensing her distress, Aricka stood up from her spot across from Rose and knelt down in front of her. Using her powers she conjured up a small stuffed bear in her hands, before gently handing it to Rose for her to hold. With a shaky hand, Rose took the stuffed animal into her hands, hugging it close as more tears began to spill down her cheeks. “Th-Thank you..” She mumbled shakily as she looked down at her. Aricka nodded slowly, taking her hand into her own, rubbing her thumb over the back of her hand

The rest of the flight was quiet, but they arrived back at the compound by nightfall. By the time the quinjet had landed, Pepper was already standing outside of it. The moment the doors had opened and Rose saw Pepper standing outside, she wasted no time rushing out of the quinjet and into her mother’s open arms. Rose practically crashed into Pepper, almost knocking her over as she buried her face in Pepper’s shoulder, crying quietly about how she was so glad that she was alive. Pepper was shedding her own tears as she hugged Rose close, pressing a shaky kiss to her violet hair

Soon enough, everyone was off the quinjet and heading inside to the compound. Rose never left her mother’s side, too shaken up to be by herself. The rest of the group explained the situation to Pepper who had a horrified look on her face. The thing that was most prevalent in her mind was if Tony was ok. The last time she saw him was when he went off with that Dr. Strange. The last she heard from him was when she called him asking if he went on the ship to space, that was the last she ever heard from him

After everything was explained and the group talked for a bit, everyone went off to their separate rooms that were still in the compound to try and get some rest. But they all knew that rest was practically impossible. After the day’s events. Rose practically refused to sleep in her own room alone. The bed that she used to share with Wanda just felt too big and lonely. So late into the night, she walked around the halls until she found Tony’s room. Not much to her surprise, she found her Pepper curled up in the deep red sheets, quiet sobs leaving her

“Mom?” Rose called softly as she stepped into the room. Pepper jumped a little at Rose’s soft voice before slowly sitting up in bed. “Rosie, what are you doing up so late?” She asked her softly, reaching up and gently wiping away her own tears. Rose was quiet for a moment, suddenly feeling bad that she disturbed her mom. Wrapping her arms around herself, she looked down at the floor as tears filled in her eyes. Pepper immediately knew something was wrong and climbed out of bed, walking over to her daughter. Rose looked up as Pepper stood in front of her, giving her a look that was asking her to tell her what was wrong. With a shaky sigh, Rose finally told her

“C-Can I sleep with you tonight? My bed is just too big and lonely and I don’t want to be alone..” Rose asked in a soft voice, tears spilling down her cheeks. Pepper frowned sympathetically before pulling her into a comforting hug. “Of course you can hun.” She whispered as she pressed a motherly kiss to her temple before ushering her towards the bed. Rose slowly crawled into the bed while Pepper laid down beside her. Rose instinctively cuddled close to her mother, burying her face in her neck while Pepper hugged her close and rubbed her back to try and lull her to sleep. It took a while but eventually Rose drifted off to sleep, clinging to her mother all throughout the night. While Rose slept, Pepper whispered out a quiet prayer, hoping that if Tony was still out there that he would make it home safely

For the next few days, the team worked on trying to find Thanos’s location as well as checking the status of the world. A worldwide census was being conducted and it seemed that Thanos did exactly what he said he would do by wiping out half the population. Soon days turned into weeks with no sign of where Thanos could possibly be. Nothing much else happened until about 22 days after the snap

It was late at night and Rose couldn’t sleep. Thankfully, neither could Pepper. So the two of them stayed up with a few of the others, watching some shows in the lounge area to try and take their minds off things. But suddenly at one point, there was the sound of loud rumbling coming from outside. Everyone looked at each other in confusion before rushing outside to see what the commotion was. Once they were outside, they could all see a bright light in the sky, slowly getting closer to the ground. As it got closer, they soon realized that it was a person. A glowing woman with long blonde hair who was carrying a giant ship before gently settling it on the ground

After a few moments, the ship's doors opened and two people emerged down the ramp. Rose’s jaw practically dropped to the floor when she recognized one of the people. It was her father Tony. Everyone came rushing up to the ship as Tony walked off the ramp. Steve was the first to get to him, helping Tony keep himself up on his feet. Even from a distance, Rose could see how exhausted and sickly Tony looked. The next person to get to him was Aricka, of course she would be there in an instant, he was her adoptive brother after all. The next to come to him was Pepper. Rose watched as she broke down in tears, hugging her fiancé close

For some reason, Rose couldn’t move. She wanted to run to her dad and hug him tightly, sobbing about how she thought that he was dead, but nothing. It was like her feet were planted to the ground. She watched silently as everyone Tony ever cared for came up to him and hugged him. She didn’t think that this was real, she thought this had to be some kind of dream. But when he suddenly looked past the others towards her, her heart almost stopped. In that fleeting moment she knew that this was all real, her father was alive. And that realization only solidified further when Rose heard him call out to her

“Rose..” He called out, causing everyone around him to move away from him to allow Rose to come up to him. At that moment, she finally broke down for the first time in almost three weeks. With tears spilling from her eyes, Rose rushed over into Tony’s open arms and hugged him tightly. She let out loud sobs as she clung to her dad tightly, not being able to get a single word out because she was crying so hard. Tony just held her close, rubbing his hand up and down her back to try and comfort her. He was just so relieved to know that his family was alive. “It’s alright, munchkin. I’m ok. I’m alive.” He whispered before kissing her forehead lightly. After a few minutes, Rose eventually calmed down enough and they all headed inside

Once inside, Bruce looked Tony over considering how malnourished he was. He eventually hooked Tony up to an IV to try and get some fluids in him. Once Bruce was done looking him over, they all gathered in the lounge so that they could talk the situation over. As they filled Tony in on what was going on, they noticed that he wasn’t exactly all there to begin with. “We’ve been hunting Thanos for three weeks. Deep space scans, satellites, nothing. Tony, you fought him.” Steve said as he looked over at him. Tony only looked up at him with a questioning look in his eyes

“Who told you that? I didn’t fight him. He wiped my face with a planet while the bleecker street magician gave away the store.” He told Steve matter-of-factly before looking away from him. “I saw this coming a few years ago, didn’t want to believe it at first.” He said with a shake of his head. Steve let out a quiet sigh as he walked a little closer to Tony. “Tony, I need you to focus-“ He was gonna say more but Tony cut him off. “And I needed you. As in past tense. That trumps what you need. It’s too late buddy.” He told him with a shake of his head. Tony was quiet for a moment before clumsily standing up. “You know what I need? I need a shave and a burger. Not a bowl of soup.” He said as he pulled the IV out of his arm

At this point, Rose and Rhodey both stood in worry when Tony started to become more unstable. Rhodey rushed over to try and get him to sit back down. “And I said long ago that what we needed was a suit of armor around the world, whether it affected our precious freedoms or not.” Tony hissed as he glared daggers at Steve. It was obvious that he wasn’t over what happened back in the confrontation between him and Steve and Bucky. “But that didn’t work out, did it?” Steve said quietly as he looked back over at him. Tony only moved closer to Steve, but was stopped halfway by Rhodey. “I said we’d lose, you said we’d “do that together, too.” Guess what, Cap, we lost, and you weren’t there.” He spat at the man who seemed practically unfazed by him

“But that’s what we do, right? Our best work after the fact? We’re the “Avengers”, not the “Pre-vengers-.” Tony said as he looked at Rhodey who was still trying to get him to sit down. “You made your point Tony, just sit down.” Rhodey told him before Tony quickly moved out of his grasp, walking up to Steve and getting in his face. “I’ve got nothing for ya, Cap. No coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero, zip, nada. No trust. Liar.” He hissed in his face. Suddenly, Tony reached up and ripped the nanobot holder off of his bare chest and put it in Steve’s hand. “Here. You take this. You find him, you put this on, and you hide.” He told him before suddenly stumbling back and falling to his knees

“Dad!” Rose called out in shock as she rushed to his side. “I’m fine. I just need to..” Tony didn’t get to finish his sentence before he suddenly fell unconscious, falling to the floor. Worry running through her veins, Rose quickly tried to pick her father up to carry him to the medical ward. Steve noticed her struggling and moved over, helping her pick him up and carry him to the medbay. Once there, Bruce quickly looked over Tony again before giving him a sedative so that he could rest for a while. Rose sat next to Tony’s bed alongside Pepper. She knew that her mother needed company now more than ever

After Bruce walked out of the room, Rose looked past her father and into the hall where Bruce, Steve, Nat, and that woman, who Rose learned her name to be Carol, were out standing together in the hall. They were planning something and a few days later, Rose found out just what. They had located the planet that Thanos was hiding out on and they were going to go there to kill Thanos and get the stones. Rose chose not to go with them, despite the fact that she wanted to get revenge on that horrible monster for taking Wanda away from her. But she knew that her mother wouldn’t be able to handle much more heartache if the mission somehow went wrong. So she stayed behind

On the day of the mission, Rose watched the ship take off into the sky from the medbay window. She hoped with all her heart that this mission would be successful and that they would bring everyone back. But she would only know the outcome when they get back. So in the meantime, Rose stayed in the medical ward with her mother and father and hoped for the best

Tags: @astralshipper @aricka-and-her-fictional-others @capitaine-amour @magicalbunbun @journalofdeath

[glossyeon]

natm || pt. 2 || osh

*All credit goes to the creators of these images*

~𝘏𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪��𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮…~

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Museum Curator!Sehun x Sculpture!Reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: sexual content, oral m recieving, fingering, Sad scenes, Reader is a sculpture?, Swearing, Lot’s of grammar mistakes, heartbreaking and heartwarming scenes ahead…

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2.3k

𝘼/𝙉:This has been a series that I’ve been dying to do for a very long time! I think Museum Curator!Sehun is such an uncommon paring that we need more of these days. Also inspired by Night at the Museum Movie Series... Enjoy!

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘖𝘩 𝘚𝘦𝘩𝘶𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 12...

                                    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was the early hours of the morning when Oh Sehun was only done a quarter of his assigned research. Despite his former role as head curator at the International Art Museum in New York - a highly respected position, Sehun had succumbed to doing the dirty work for the head director Johnny Suh. The reason? To secure his job and title. 

While in New York, Sehun was fired due to circumstances that remain only between him and director Suh. Even if he did have a unique eye for art and historical artifacts, that didn’t matter to the higher ups in the field if he lied. Thus, assigning pages of research and tasks for the next year was deemed a reasonable punishment in the eyes of the department. 

Sehun’s eyes are sore and tired from the countless words he’s read. His wrist aches from the pages he’s recorded, and all he wants is to quickly go home to the comfort of his cat and couch. groaning at the papers and books sprawled out in front of him, sehun covers his face with his book, eyes closing in frustration. “8 more months... just 8 more months” he assuringly murmurs to himself.

he may be tired but he doesn’t fail to notice the white cloth that drags behind a figure. wondering if he’s seeing things, he forces himself to waken up and lift the edges of the book that blocks the full view. that let’s him get a glimpse of your shadowy figure that’s swiftly prancing through the shelves of books. Your white dress dances behind you, matching the movements of your long curls, and he swears he’s seen you before. 

“One of the actors that dresses up for the kids exhibit?” - It doesn’t make sense since it’s far too late for them to be getting off work. “A part timer?” There weren’t any newbies that he remembered to resemble your appearance.

Carefully controlling your movements and sounds, you successfully make it a few feet away from the door, unbeknownst that Sehun’s eyes were glued to you. He knows that no one would enter the library and leave without a book or record in their hands. You simply held the fabrics of your dress, clutching tightly with all your might.

“You’re forgetting something aren’t you?”

You held your breath, hands stopping just at the handles of the wooden doors.

“Shit” 

The sounds of a chair being pushed back and precise footsteps followed in your direction. “You seem to have left what you were looking for haven’t you? He studied the back of your outfit and perked his brow in suspicion. “Which department are you from? Archiving? Communications?” Your silence confirmed the curator that you could be a museum thief or a spy for another museum. “Who are you?” he asked, getting ready to spin you around and reveal your identity. But before he could do anything else, you did what you thought was best. 

Flee.

Sehun chased after you, determined to find your true identity. Pushing the heavy and old iron doors of the library you ran as fast as you could, away from the strange man. Still clutching your dress with fear, you ran under the hanging war planes displayed above the main entrance. Usually you would have stopped to admire the grand aircrafts like every other night, but tonight you were running too fast to stop. Your pace quickened after hearing the fast approaching steps of Sehun, indicating he was right on your tail

Arriving to the main hallway of the museum, it was bustling with the many relics and artifacts that had come to life. From prominent war generals perched on their horses to the famous yet very dead British royalty that filled the room. Obviously wax figures of the originals. 

Scanning for someone to let them know about the witness, a hand suddenly grasps your own, spinning you around to stare at them. Panting and out of breath, Sehun smirks at your surprised reaction. “You didn’t answer my question”

aggressively trying to free from his strong grasp, you pleaded desperately. “Please.. let me go...” his expression softened and he released some of the pressure. Instead, he pulls you closer to his chest and whispers in your ear. The distance made you blush with embarrassment and try to move away but he didn’t let go this time either. “There will be consequences to your actions.” he threatened. “The museum security and police department will take action if you don’t say who-”

Sehun’s words faltered, entranced with the view behind you. People, objects, and animals of all historical time periods were together. William Shakespeare was talking to Muhammad Ali, while a massive Jeff Koons ballon dog was prancing amongst cavemen singing the new Katy Perry song. 

It was a sight that made Sehun astonished enough to loosen the grip on your wrist completely. Seeing this as your chance for escape, and revenge, you slapped Sehun right on the cheek. The impact of the slap left a visible red mark on his skin, along with an echoing sound that brought attention to the scene unfolding. 

You scoffed at the disbelief evident in his face, and turned around swiftly, your long hair grazing his face. You made your way to HyunA and Lisa who sat by the water fountain, stopping in the midst of their conversation to what the commotion was. Instead of you, Sehun was more-so worried about the sharp swords that were now being held against him. 

At the words of war general E. Dawn - who happened to be in the room, British soldiers held their weapons against Sehun and slowly cornered him to a wall. The room’s vibrant chatter had now come to a silence as others realized what was happening. Sehun gulped in fear but didn’t back down and analyzed the situation logically. Spreading out a hand of reassurance he negotiated with them. “I’m not a threat. Just let me go and I won’t say a thing about tonight to anyone else” He was sincere and to the point.

Dawn rejected his offer, and made his way to Sehun. Eyes filled with suspicion and distrust, he didn’t hesitate to raise his own sword to Sehun’s neck. When that happened Sehun closed his eyes, slowly falling to his knees and raising his hands in surrender. Gasping in fear, you pushing through the crowd that formed around them, and yelled at Dawn. 

“Stop!”

Sehun opened his eyes in bewilderment at your actions, staring at you as if you were crazy. Not long ago was he the person that threatened to hand you over to authorities. Dawn mimicked Sehun’s expression and looked you up and down. You were well acquainted with E. Dawn, occasionally nodding heads to each other when you passed the hallways at night. But he was more so HyunA’s type, all solemn, serious, and virtuous. 

“You’re brain must still be marble Y/N! This man needs to be terminated immediately, or else every artifact in this museum will be shipped off to be torn and teared apart by officials!” 

The others cheered him, agreeing whole-heartedly with the general of the British. You sighed and glanced from Dawn to Sehun. Putting your best smile and persuasive voice you lowered his sword. 

“Why general Dawn, this man had sworn to keep tonights events a secret! Could you not find an ounce of sympathy for him? Plus, where would we put the contents of his decapitated body?” you asked, batting your eyelashes as naturally as you could.

Sehun couldn’t help but smile and quietly scoff at your attempt of persuasion: key word, attempt. You were definitely one of kind. 

Dawn began to take in your words, thinking about the consequences of murdering the man. Dawn wasn’t the most hardest to persuade. Glancing back to Sehun, he grabbed his turtleneck up. “What is your name?” he asked roughly.

Sehun eyes flickered from Dawn’s eyes, before staring in yours and saying,

“It’s Sehun. Oh Sehun”

Taking a few moments to think a bit more, the general came to a final conclusion. He released the grip from Sehun’s shirt, and brought him up to stand on his feet. Wrapping a less than comforting arm around his shoulders, and smiling assuringly to the crowd 

“My fellow friends of the museum! You must have all been scared for a second. Do not worry! 

“Sehun will not tell a single soul about tonight, right Sehun..” 

Sehun stayed still, lips curling into a disapproving frown when he glanced downwards to Dawn’s hands on his shoulder.“If I find out that that mouth of yours has blabbered about some nonsense of real life wax figures and artifacts...” Dawn began laughing jokingly before he leaned in to whisper something in his ears. Sehun didn’t falter, never taking his eyes off yours like before. 

“What is up with this guy?” you thought, biting your lip in disarray

                                             ━━━━━━━━━━

The crowd agreed on Sehun’s promise, letting him now roam the museum halls without the fear of getting jabbed by a sword. Now walking back to the library, side by side with him, you couldn’t help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and shyness. What were you to say to him? You’re welcome for preventing you from getting decapitated? Sorry for slapping your cheek? You huffed quite louder than you wanted, sehun turning his head to look at your awkward state. He smiled a genuine one. 

You had saved him. Showed him mercy even when he wasn’t the nicest to you. He cleared his throat. 

“I wanted to say thank you.” he said. You looked up at him flustered. This was your first time speaking to a real person in a very very long time and you didn’t know how to reply. 

“And apologize. I wasn’t very nice to you even though you saved me from getting killed.” He huffed. You reached the library doors, turning around to face him. You don’t know if it was the lighting above the doors or the electricity running through your veins, but you can now clearly see and focus on Sehun’s face. 

Although his eyes looked down in self-disappointment, you could see his well chiseled jaw, nice lips, and a clean well taken care image. He was in fact, not that bad looking. Quite nice to look at even. 

Shaking yourself of anymore weird thoughts, you waved your hands in reassurance. “Oh no! It’s fine! I wasn’t really supposed to be in the library of records anyways, and I shouldn’t have... slapped you...” you quietly admitted, now looking down at your bare feet. Sculptures didn’t normally wear shoes.

sehun admired you. you were beautiful. enchanting, charming and cute. you had stuck up for him, and showed kindness. Plus you were quite funny. 

Sehun’s head rolled back, chuckling at your embarassment. After seeing your confused face, he explained. “sorry it’s just... you were pretty convincing back there to the general guy” Rosy cheeks appeared on your honey skin and you jokingly defended yourself. “You were about to be decapitated! What else could I have said to persuade him?”

He looked into your eyes amused, causing your heart beat to speed up. 

Why do I feel so warm? Are my cheeks burning? you asked yourself, hand coming up to cool down your face. 

“You’re from the ancient greek art gallery, correct?” he suddenly asked. “It’s just that I’ve seen you on my way to my office in the mornings. You’re Y/N, the sculpture that almost everyone that comes to the museum adores” he confessed smiling. This makes you smile, happy and embarrassed to know this. 

Sehun doesn’t hesitate to ask again. “Have you been alone for all these years?”

You’re quick to answer. “Gosh, you say that like it’s a curse. For your information, I do have friends of my own that I spend time together with” you explained annoyed. 

He smirks at your cute response and strong personality, holding up his hands in defence. “Just asking”

You’re about to say something else when Lisa suddenly appears in front of you, blocking you from sehun with folded arms and a tiny overprotective glare. You wondered how she even knew you two were here...

“So you must be that new museum curator that everyone has been talking about huh?” she says “you” with a bit of a tone, not afraid of showing Sehun her true emotions. Lisa’s million dollar gaze that leaves almost everyone shaking is showing. And that’s when you know the cogs in Lisa’s brain are running and working, jumping to conclusions or wrong ideas. 

“Lisa..” you pleaded, tugging on your friends arm to tone it down. 

“Yes I am. It’s an honor to be speaking with Mona Lisa herself” Sehun says politely and charmingly, extending a hand for her to shake. 

Lisa hates bullshit. So she cuts to the chase. 

Ignoring his hand, she then states. “Look, I’m not sure what you’re trying to get from the artifacts of this museum, but you will not get anything from my best friend.” Lisa steps closer, leaning in to warn him. “I know things about every person in this place.” she stares directly into his eyes. “Things that could ruin reputations” she continued softly yet deadly.

Sehun doesn’t waver at all when he is put up against the Mona Lisa. And I gotta give props to him for that. Before I could defend the poor man, Lisa grasps my hand and pulls me away. “Let’s go Y/N”

Lisa may be mentally strong, but she's physically strong as well. Her grip leads me away, looking back at a bewildered Sehun. “Lisa it’s fine, geez” I assure my friend, who is still mindlessly dragging me away. I looked back to sehun and expressed a sorry expression. He smiles and says something back that makes me feel something new inside. 

“see you around Y/N”

all while smirking in that black turtle neck, hand waving back at me. God, the things that Oh Sehun is starting to do to me. 

Lisa ruins the mood by shouting back 

“No she wont!!!”

(Copyright 2020 © Glossyeon // all rights reserved)

[tenshiscientia]

The Trouble With Sleeping

"Koneko you have to get out of here. Before they start doing to you what they are to me. Your body isn't strong enough to stand up to the effects. I'm not going to have my little sister killed.'"

Pale hands ran down a sun-kissed cheek.

"Oni-san, I'm not leaving you behind. They will kill you for sure." a small voice whispered, pale lavender eyes gazing up into ocean blue.

"Koneko, I would rather die than see that scientist with his hands on you again..."

An alarm blared over the heads of the two teens in the corridor. The older teen looked around, alarmed and angry at the same time. They were coming for them. They were coming for the precious treasure he had been ordered by their parents to protect. He had failed them and gotten them captured and landed here in this lab.

The best that he could do was to get his little sister out of here. His sweet little Koneko.

"Koneko go." he said pulling her to a small vent and prying the cover off, then shoving her inside.

"Oni-san, no!" she cried reaching back out to him.

But the vent cover slammed back into place.

"Koneko go! I'll meet you outside, at another exit okay?" he yelled through the vent.

She nodded and began to crawl away.

The teen turned away from the vent and watched as he was surrounded.

"I'm sorry, Mikazuki...I won't be meeting you out there..." he whispered.

Mikazuki turned around in the vent as she heard her Oni-san scream. She knew he was dead. Lights started to shine down the vent she was in. She had to get out of there...

______________________________

Mikazuki gasped and sat up sharply, her gaze snapping back and forth around her room. She could feel the aftereffects of her dream running through her body like lightning and she didn't know how to shake it off. Standing shakily, she walked to her door and yanked it open. Starting down the hall, she was reminded of the vent she had crawled through to get away from the lab and it felt like her breath was being crushed from her chest. Her legs collapsed out from underneath her and she slumped against the wall to the ground, her body shaking, tears slowly starting to slide down her face.

Vergil, hearing the commotion in the hall, slid his door open and peered out of it wondering what would be going on at this late hour. Seeing Mikazuki on the ground shaking with tears in her eyes though, was not what he expected to find. Pulling his door the rest of the way open, he quickly walked across the hall and kneeled down next to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. A startled gasp left her lips as she turned wide eyes on him and pulled away at first. Then she realized it was him.

"V-vergil..." she barely managed to whimper before launching herself against him and burying her face against his chest, arms wrapping around him in a vice-like grip.

Surprised, Vergil could only stare down at her as he watched her cry against him, her tears nearly soaking the front of his shirt.

"P-please, don't let them get me, Vergil. D-don't let t-them take me back! I don't want to go back, please!" she whimpered loudly, burying her face more firmly against his chest.

Vergil tilted his head to the side wondering just who 'they' were and why 'they' were after her. And just 'where' would ‘they’ take her to. Vergil's hands wandered up to comfort Mikazuki but stopped, quite suddenly realizing that he didn't know how.

"How long she been there, Verg?" a rough voice asked.

Vergil looked up and saw Dante standing in his bedroom doorway scratching the back of his head.

"I just heard her out here a few seconds ago." he replied.

Dante hummed and nodded, walking over and squatting down.

"That's good then. She's not too far into the attack. C'mere Mika." Dante smiled and reached out to her, pulling Mikazuki into his arms.

Mikazuki made a disgruntled noise at first, then wrapped her arms around Dante's neck and buried her face in his throat. Then she wrapped her legs around his waist. Standing up, Dante started to rock side to side like a mother would when soothing a child who has woken from a nightmare.

"Verg, Mika was caught in a lab at a young age with her brother. They were there together for about...I think she said...three years. Then things went downhill. Badly. So they tried to escape.

Keyword, tried. She got out, he didn't. So that she could get out alive, her brother stayed behind. Which she knows killed him. She refuses to give me a name so we can look up anything else.

All I can get is 'Oni-san' as her brother's name. When I found her, she was exactly like she is now." Dante was rubbing soothing circles into Mikazuki's back as his other hand supported her.

It was strange, to see a full grown woman, almost the same size as him, being held like a small child. Vergil gazed at Mikazuki longingly. Since he had started his relationship with Mikazuki, he had wanted to be able to comfort her the same way that Dante could, but he just couldn't figure out her spectrum of human emotions. Just couldn't understand the fear, anxiety, helplessness, depression, terror, pain, panic, loss, and horror. Her’s were so different from his own.

"Hey."

Dante's voice broke through Vergil's thoughts.

"You wanna help her?"

Vergil's eyes widened as he looked at Mikazuki as she resided calmly in Dante's arms. Shaking his head he took a small step back.

"I don't want to disturb..." he began.

"Nonsense, Verg. This is perfect. Here..."

Dante was already approaching him before he could protest, pulling Mikazuki's legs from around his waist, pulling at her arms not letting her say anything. He quickly turned her around and lifted her against Vergil, slipping Mikazuki's arms around his neck then hefting her legs gently around Vergil's waist. Dante gently moved Vergil's hands to show him how to support her. (As if he needed to do that. Vergil had held someone in his arms before, now Dante was just being a Smartass.

But Vergil did have to admit Mikazuki was heavier than the last person he had held like this.) Then Dante showed him the motions that would comfort her. Yet still, Mikazuki was still tense in his arms, not pliant and comfortable. Not at ease and soothed.

"Dante...what am I doing wrong?" Vergil asked softly.

Dante chuckled gently.

"Try rocking side to side."

Vergil tilted his head minutely, but did as was told. Instantly, Mikazuki sighed and relaxed against him. Arms slack as they hung over his shoulders, and he actually had to stop rubbing circles on her back to support her better cause she had dropped her legs from around his waist.

"Now that's something I've never seen..." Dante whispered.

Vergil looked up at him, a question in his eyes.

"Ah, I think she's off to sleep. She usually can't sleep for hours after she has one of these dreams. These anxiety attacks, they fuel her panicked subconscious to bring up even worse dreams. So for her to even think about going back to sleep right now. Wow, she must have a lot of trust in you being there when she wakes up.

Or something about your demonic powers is soothing her anxiety. Stranger things have happened. I'll leave you alone. Have fun, Vergil." Dante turned away with a smile on his face. He walked back down to his room then shut the door behind him.

Vergil continued to rock side to side with Mikazuki in his arms.

"Sweet Moon and Stars of mine...what dreadful things have you been through? Will you possibly one day tell me? Share with me your nightmares. Share with me yours, and I will share with you what I remember of mine..."

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

What Mattered Most (2)

Characters: Dean x Reader; Sam

Summary: Dean wakes to find she’s gone. What would make his best friend leave him? Sam may just know.

A/n: This will be a mini-series of two to three parts, based on the song “What Mattered Most” by Ty Herndon. This has been rumbling around in my head for a while, so I finally committed to getting it down. This is a little later than I was hoping to get it to you today, for that I apologize. 

Warnings: Angst. Sadness.

Dean stood in the doorway of the bunker’s kitchen, resting his weight against the wide frame as you stood at the stove, flipping sizzling bacon in a cast iron skillet. Your hips were swaying to the sounds of music flowing from your headphones and you would shimmy your waist every few beats, oblivious to the world and thoroughly enjoying the Saturday morning off. A smile played at his lips as he watched you, content to savor the moments where you were lost in a melody as you took care of him and Sammy.

You turned slightly and caught his movement out of the corner of your eye, making you jump and yank the cords from your ears, “Dean! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you yelled, clutching a hand to your chest.

A small chuckle erupted as he held his hands up in surrender, “Hey, you can’t blame me. There was no way I was going to ruin that show.”

Dean smirked as your cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink and a hint of a grin made a small dimple appear on the left side of your mouth.

He loved mornings like this; in the safety of his home, his brother snoring down the hall, and his favorite girl waiting for him to wake up.

“Yeah… well, you could have warned me. Not given me a heart attack.” You grumbled, but still cheekily beaming as you turned your back to him, setting to work at the stove with the pancake batter.

Dean moved slowly, placing a foot in front of the other methodically and allowing his strong legs to carry him to you. He rounded the small island, reveling in the sight of your falling in ribbons around a messy bun and your bare legs tucked beneath your sleep shorts.

It was a sight he adored. You.

When he reached you, he planted his feet on either side of your stance, his arms sensuously winding around your midsection. His fingertips trailed lightly against the skin exposed as he pressed his lips against your collarbone.

“How are you this morning, sweetheart?” he purred, caressing the shell of your ear with his mouth.

Reaching behind you to thread your fingers in his soft locks, you replied with a hum, “I’m good. Slept well, had good dreams.”

“Oh yeah?” he questioned mischievously. “About me?” he asked, attaching himself to your backside and locking you within his large frame.

You giggled. He could get lost in your laughter. “Of course, honey. Always about you.”

He spun you gently to cage you against the counter, leaning in to run his nose along the curve of your jaw, “I had good dreams too. I missed you when you weren’t there when I woke up, though.” his lips curling while he brushed a few stray hairs from your face, feeling the smoothness of your skin against his palm.

Stretching to your toes, you pressed a longing kiss to his plump lips, slipping your hands under the hem of his shirt to feel his muscle beneath. Dean knew he could live in this feeling for eternity.

“I’m sorry,” you whined, hugging him tightly and burying yourself in his chest, “but I had to go.”

“Go?” Dean questioned, confusion knitting his brow.

“Yeah, Dean.” You stated simply, pulling away from his embrace to look into his eyes, a sadness in your voice that he hadn’t heard before. “Remember? I left. I’m not here anymore.”

Dean stood speechless, witnessing the once happy glow fade from your gaze. A single tear flowed down your cheek, but you were steadily fading even as he still felt your warmth in his arms. “Y/n…”

Before he could continue, you slipped from his grasp, his hands still reaching for you as you vanished, words echoing in the darkness, “I’m gone. You can’t find me. I’m never coming home.”

Dean awoke gripping the sheets around him, a thin layer of sweat covering the length of his body and a panic in his chest that he couldn’t calm. He sat up quickly, searching his surroundings for something he wasn’t sure he’d lost. Sleep still fogging his memory, he struggled to remember what he was holding onto, but his dream haunted him none-the-less. He shook the covers from his legs and swung his bedroom door open with force, moving towards the room across the hall. Sam’s gentle snores could be heard from behind his cracked door to the left as he stood in front of yours.

When he twisted the knob gently and the door opened with a whine. He flipped the light switch, illuminating the pitch-black space to reveal a pristine, yet empty bedroom. He felt his stomach turn in knots and his eyes burn with fresh tears.

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t his imagination… You really were gone.

He’d tried for two months to find you, but every shred of your identity was left behind. Every link or connection he had turned up empty. Fake badges, ID’s, and every burner phone he knew of yours sat on the small desk adjacent to your bed. He dragged his body towards it, slumping into the chair and resting his elbows on his knees to run a hand through his hair tiredly. Retrieving your most recent license from the stack before him, he took a moment to study the photo displayed on the plastic pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. The smile hidden beneath them.

The images of his dream flooded back to him. He felt your skin touching his, your body cradled against him, and the smell of your shampoo. His hands could still feel your heat, though they were cold to the touch.

The scene in his vision wasn’t entirely fantasy, but one that he’d been a part of years ago. A memory of breakfasts you’d shared so many times made his chest tighten in agony. They were always filled with laughter and deep conversations. The secrets you kept from the world were often shared over the most amazing coffee and arguments ensued over the last shred of bacon. The only difference now was the intimacy. The touching. The kissing. Holding each other. That was something that had never been reality. It was never that he didn’t love you—at least not in the profound, elegant way, but rather it was something that hadn’t blossomed within him, until recently.

Until Sam told him everything. Until you left.

Now there was a longing in his heart that bloomed like a thirst that could never be satiated. He reasoned that it was just the feeling of missing his best friend, the person that had been there for him through all of the ups and downs that accompanied this life. But he knew. Deep within him, Dean knew he was in love with you—he could deny it, pretend he didn’t know the feeling, but there was no mistaking it. He also knew that he was too arrogant to appreciate it when he’d had the chance to act. He drove you away to the point that you didn’t want to be found, all the while burying himself into a hole of his own creation. He could try to move on, to try to forget and pretend to be his old self with a devil-may-care attitude, but there would be no use.

He stood from your desk chair and moved to stand by your bed, envisioning you lying there curled beneath your favorite blanket. Strangely enough, your scent was still etched into the very fabric of the room he now stood in. Your once decorated nightstand and dresser were bare, drained of the photos that use to adorn them. Dean resisted the urge to crawl into your bed and instead settled for running his fingertips along the hem of your pillow, cold and unused.

Dean shuffled back to the confines and darkness of his own room; closing your door to hide the haunting sight of its bareness, before slowly lowering himself back onto his mattress. He tucked himself tightly beneath the sheets, praying for the release of sleep if only to see you once again.

Hours passed before he was being gently shaken awake by Sam informing him of a case. In a state of confusion and hollowness, Dean packed his small bag of belongings and kept the radio silent during the entire drive, pertinently ignoring Sam’s questioning stares. He tried to pretend with Sam; pretend he wasn’t torn apart, but his brother knew him all too well.

Now, here he was, in a bar in nowhere, Nebraska, trying to chase the tiniest bit of his sorrow away. They’d arrived in town at 7 p.m., too late to follow any leads of the case, so Sam elected to stay behind and do research as Dean elected to do anything but stare at motel room walls.

“Another round?” the bartender asked.

“Yeah, then close out my tab.” Dean replied; opting that two was actually a good place to stop for the evening, something he potentially wouldn’t have done two months ago.

The bartender, a man probably in his late 40′s and hardened by life, grabbed the bottle of scotch and poured another three fingers over the remaining ice in Dean’s glass, “You from around here?”

“No.” Dean shook his head, lifting the amber liquid to his lips. “Just in town for a few days.”

“Didn’t think so. Only a few newbies ever make there way to these parts. But, let me give you some advice…” the stranger replied, reaching behind him, “This place has the best steak in town. My neighbor owns it; it’s an institution around here.” He set a paper menu in front of Dean on the glistening wood, next to the coaster that would house his drink.

Dean picked it up, prepared to thank him before he excused himself to help the new round of guests that poured in.

As he was studying the menu, a commotion sounded from the other end of the room, where two men were in a heated discussion about a recent game of pool. Dean took notice of the increase in bodies in the small area, not surprising for a Friday evening in a small town bar. At the other end of the space, a squeal from the speakers sounded as a few workers set up equipment for karaoke that would apparently be happening later that evening.

Glasses clinked together, the cracks and clanks of the balls being pushed by  pool cues flooded his hears, and voices sounded from all around him; but nothing could have drowned out the sound of the voice he’d missed for months.

“Can I have a Jack and coke, please?” he heard from the opposite end of the bar, causing him to freeze. It was unmistakable.

He slowly turned his eyes in the direction of the wonderfully chilling melody and was met with the sight of you leaning over the edge of the bar, your Y/h/c hair falling in waves around your face and your eyes shining as you smiled at the bartender.

Dean attempted to force every cell of his body to tear his eyes away from you, but to no avail. Your skin was flushed and healthy. You were wearing a new shade of lipstick; a slightly darker red then the natural pigment of the flesh of your lips.

The bartender passed you a glass as you left a few bills on the counter, but you stayed planted where you were standing when you ordered. There was a lightness to you that Dean hadn’t witnessed in many years, feeling a fresh wave of guilt as the knowledge passed that it had been his doing that you’d lost it.

As he was taking you in, Dean felt a new found determination and strength to right whatever he’d done wrong. In that moment, he’d give anything to give you everything.

He began to stand, until he heard your name called.

A new fire rose to your eyes as you glanced in the direction from which it came, a bright, dazzling smile gracing your lips.

Dean watched as a man made his way through the crowd, steadfastly making his way to you.

And when that man captured your lips with his, Dean felt his heart shatter.

To be continued...

<Part 1 / Part 3>

Masterlist

[lunavadash-creates]

Lost and Found

Finally, I decided to write something in English. It wasn’t easy, but I hope that you will enjoy this little prologue. This story begins only because of the support I received from an amazing author. @storytimefromthecreed pushed me through my doubts and insecurities. And the biggest hug for Baccano, who check this story, helped me and also pushed me to do this. Thank you both! So now - enjoy. 

Also - sometimes I’m so damn stupid stupid so I accidentally deleted this story Now I have to post it again ;.;

 Warnings: mention of death, Assassin’s Creed Black Flag spoiler  

                                                    Prologue

The memory of the promise she made back then was still burning inside her as she slowly approached his house. It looked the same as the day she left it; absurdly big and weirdly symmetric, but… something was wrong, she could feel something dark and heavy crawling inside her guts making her feel uneasy. The whole surrounding of the house was full of armoured guards in unfamiliar outfits. She frowned and made a few steps back, hiding behind a corner. She walked from the port up here and her legs were already numb, she wasn’t in a position to start a fight with those men when her body was weakened, even if she wanted her answers right now. She was fully aware that time was moving differently when she was out but it couldn’t be that long, right?

Not too happy she decided to leave the mansion for now and found the information in a different way, starting from learning what year it was. She, of course, couldn’t ask a random person, it would be strange and suspicious but finding an abandoned newspaper wasn’t really hard. Not in a city like this. The hard part was seeing the date. March 1756. For a second, she felt dizziness, but the thought that she disappeared for twenty years was overwhelming. For her, it was like two or three years tops! And yet here she was, surrounded but unknown people, in a city that didn’t seem to be friendly to her anymore. She looked around finally noticing all the details of her surroundings, especially people that were looking at her with strange expressions. Her clothes were standing out, but what could she expect? In was two whole decades, of course, that fashion changed during this time! She really had no idea that so much time passed like in a blink of an eye. After a short while of insecurity, she decided to find another place, a calm spot where she would be safe enough to wait until the nightfall. With legs hurting and her conscience uneasy it was hard to wait those few hours, but she was taught patience and now she finally could use that skill. This once.

She found a little café where she used to sit in with her friends, at least this one place looked like time’s influence had missed it. She even ordered the same thing as twenty years ago, a cup of tea and a blueberry muffin. She sat at the table and again a little sigh escaped her lips, her thoughts were spinning like crazy around every memory connected to this place. It was so hard to believe that she missed… everything. When she rose her glaze from the tea, she saw that table in the corner, it was occupied at the moment, but she remembered the first time she came here. She sat next to the window and that little, adorable boy decided to sit on her knees despite his father warning. But that child was just so cute, she immediately fell in love with him. On that day he was like five years old and she was able to see him growing for some time. But how old he was when she left? Eight maybe, nine? Something like that. She hugged him and gave him a little pearl she had found during her travel. She hugged her best friend and his wife, then promised him that one day she will be back, hopefully very soon.  

She was so happy for them and the thought that they might be… no. It couldn’t be true. They probably moved somewhere when situation here became dangerous. That had to be it. Soon she will find them all, and they will be laughing at her stupid insecurity. With a better mood, she finished her muffin and tea it was evening. She left the café to get ready.

When it was finally dark, she made her move, getting closer to the manor, she found a lonely guard, standing in the darkness. He looked tired and hangover, but it meant he was vulnerable. A good target to begin with. She took a gold coin from her pocket and stepped closer.

‘Freeze! No trespassing’ the guard shouted, pointing his gun at her. She slowly rose her hands, making sure that the man could see the coin glistened under the moonlight.

‘I only have a few questions. You will not regret answering them’ she ensured the man, who looked at her suspiciously, never putting his gun down. But he didn’t really stop her from closing the distance between them.

‘What happened to the previous owner of this manor? What happened to that family’

‘Dead. I heard that almost the whole family had been murdered.’

‘Almost? There were children, what happened to them?’ she asked much more hesitantly that she would like to. She couldn’t let her feeling betray her but… hearing his words were so excruciating.

‘I know for sure that boy was taken. He came here a few years ago before departed for the New World. That’s all I know, so that lovely coin of yours should definitely stay with me now’ the smirk on his face was terrible and disgusting, making her sick at the sight. She reached out her hand to the man and dropped the gold coin, but before the man could catch it, she stabbed him in the throat. His body collapsed on the ground with blood leaving his veins, his eyes still in shock as he didn’t even have time to make a sound. She quickly moved his body to hid it in the nearby bush, it would give her a little bit more time to explore the mansion. She denied to believe that her best friend was dead, she had to see this with her own two eyes, so what other choice did she have?

Breaking in was hard, there were a lot of armoured guards surrounding the mansion like it contained some kind of hidden treasure. And who knows, maybe there was something so valuable that needed to be protected at all cost. They looked like mercenaries so probably whatever was hidden inside was worth paying for protection. She frowned, hiding beside a pillar, waiting for the nearest guard to move away before she jumped inside through the open window. The room was filled up with darkness but it didn’t stop her from investigating the house. She was here a few times and still remembered the way to his room like it was craved in her brain. Up the stairs, turn right, second door on the left. But before she managed to make the first step, she seen the proof that man she killed and hid in a bush indeed told her the truth. This place wasn’t safe anymore, it was a lost cause and her best friend was dead. A huge Templar symbol was hung on the wall in front of the entrance like a trophy. Proof that this place belonged to them and no one could question their dominance. She felt sick on that thought and controlled by a silly rage she just ripped that stupid sign and tossed it across the hall, wanted it to disappeared from her sight. The sound of ripped material alarmed a guard who quickly came back to the room only to see a woman who shouldn’t be here. He was as heavily armoured as the rest, who were surrounding this place. Orders he got were clear – kill every person who tries to break in and so he intended to do. He attacked the startled woman without hesitation or mercy and soon she was forced to save herself by dropping a smoke bomb. Running for her life as fast as she could on legs that weren’t used to the effort like this anymore. Unfortunately, the detonation of the bomb created more commotion, so now quite a lot of people knew of her presence. She swore silently under her breath, it didn’t go as planned, not at all.

Soon all those people, guards, templars, some kind of a freaking gang of mercenaries, started to look for her, an intruder who might want to interrupt their plan. They were looking for a reckless assassin, who broke into the templar base in the middle of the night, created a commotion and just run away like it was all a childish play. She was angry at herself for this stupid rage but right now it was already too late to change it. Besides, every cloud has a silver lining, the same men who were looking for her were the one who kept the information she needed. And now, after killing bunch of templar’s dogs, she was finally sure – Haytham Kenway was still alive, living in New World far across the globe and now it was up to her to find him at all costs, to keep a promise made almost two decades ago.

Even though it was dangerous for her to wander around the city right now, she still decided to pay a visit to the local cemetery, to find a certain grave, before she will leave for the New World. Holding blue flowers in hands, she searched the area for a few hours until she finally found the one she was looking for. She crouched next to the grave, placing flowers, gladioluses, on the ground and released a great deep sigh.

‘I’m so sorry Edward that it took me so long to came back. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to save you’ she said silently. It hurt so badly and her heart was painfully clenched as she was looking at elegant letters forming into a name of Edward James Kenway. Died on 3rd of December 1735. Only a few weeks after she left. Hot tears started to pour down her cheeks as she held back a sob for a few moments. Soon it became unbearable and she started crying, hiding face in her hands. Edward was dead and she felt guilty and alone, he didn’t deserve a fate like this. He was supposed to finally settle down and live happily! Not be dead, lying in a cold grave! And children, he had children who were supposed to grow up with amazing father, surrounded by love and prosperity.

‘I promise you, Edward, once again. I will find your son and I will take care of him. Protect him like I couldn’t do with you. This time I will not fail you, my dearest’ she said determined and then she finally stood up. Her gaze was focused on the river and soon she was on her way again.  

A few weeks later a man knocked on Haytham’s office door before he walked in. He looked scared, a piercing glaze of Haytham Kenway made him look away and shuddered a little. But he had a task, information, he needed to provide at once and the possible consequences of not fulfilling the order were severe.

‘My apologies Master Kenway. We got in information from London about a female assassin who is looking for you. She barged into your house, killed a few of our men to gain information about your whereabouts and now we are worried that soon she will be here. What should we do, what are the orders?’

Haytham rose an eyebrow and moved papers in front of him before he straightened on his seat. A silent sigh escaped his mouth. He couldn’t really consider this situation as a problem because of one assassin? Against whole Templar Order? Against him?

‘What do you think Master Cormac? Should I be worried about my well-being?’ he asked calmly, but he knew better than that, that he was safe, having next to him ruthless assassin hunter. Shay rose from the couch and stretched a little bit.

‘No. She’s a deadwoman if she thinks she can get to us. No assassin can stop the order’ and with a smirk, he departed with the man. Looks like soon another hunt will begin.

[freudensteins-monster]

I wish you would write a fic where Loki and Sigyn try to one-up each other pranking Thor, Valkyrie and the Avengers while on Earth. (Thanks, and Happy New Year! xoxo)

Dear Anon, I know you probably don’t remember sending me this ask, considering you sent it on New Years Day - two years ago - but better later than never, right? (Set post-Ragnarok, minus Thanos)

Loki’s return to Earth had notexactly been celebrated, but the Avengers needed him on an upcoming mission so hispresence was tolerated. Eventually they reached the end of their patience andso he was sent to annoy Doctor Strange at the New York Sanctum. He had to begrudgingly admit that theircollection of magical knowledge and artifacts was impressive, though it paledin comparison to Asgard’s. And didn’t he feel that loss keenly? He’d managed tosquirrel away almost a hundred of his most treasured volumes into his personalpocket dimension during his all to brief reign as king but there were hundreds of thousandsmore that had been lost to the fires of Ragnarok.

The Sanctum also held another mysterioustreasure.

“Sigyn? Is that name supposed tomean something to me?” Loki replied with disinterest, not bothering to raisehis eyes from his latest book.

“It should,” Strange smirked.“She’s your wife reincarnated.”

At that Loki deigned to raise hiseyes, flitting from the irritating Strange to the mortified initiate besidehim. She was fair of face and hair, the latter pulled back in elaborate braidsthat fell down to her shoulder blades, and she wore thick gloves on her hands inaddition to the standard burgundy garb of any initiate of Kamar-Taj.

“Is this a reference to yourlurid mythologies?” Loki drawled. “Because in truth I have never taken a wife.Though if you wish me to take her off your hands I would require a substantialdowry, say the Axe of Angarrumus? I received Thor’s name in Stark’s wintersolstice gift giving game and such a weapon would mean I don’t have to lowermyself to visiting one of Midgard’s marketplaces.”

Rather than reply Strange huffedwith irritation and flounced out of the room (the sorcerer may have justturned, the Cape of Levitation did all the flouncing). The woman gave him acurt bow before disappearing into the rows of shelving, and Loki would haveforgotten all about her the moment she was gone from his sight if Strangehadn’t screamed his name as he stormed back into the library less than a minutelater.

Loki laughed. He couldn’t helpit. The Sorcerer Supreme was standing in the middle of the room, his dark bluerobes now emerald green and his famed cloak a blinding gold, as his face turnedan interesting shade of red. It was the best thing he’d seen since the Hulk hadthrown Thor around like a ragdoll in the arena.

“What? It wasn’t me,” Loki arguedas Strange continued to glare at him after he’d been able to stop laughing.

With one flick of his wrists thesorcerer changed his robes back to their original hue and with another he cutthe legs off Loki’s chair, causing the Asgardian to fall on his ass with athud.

Loki was dusting himself off whenthe woman, Sigyn, reappeared, a heavy tome in her arms and a small smileplaying on her lips.

“It was nice to meet you,” she saidin lightly accented English before leaving the room via a portal she’dconjured.

Loki stared at the space she hadoccupied for a long minute before smiling to himself, “Interesting.”

In the days leading up to theMidgard winter solstice celebrations Loki thought of the curious Sigyn often,and though he frequented the Sanctum he had not seen her again, and dared notask Strange as to her whereabouts and give away his interest. In the end she came to him, arriving via a portal on the balcony of Stark’stower along with Strange and two other sorcerers, a hour late for Stark’sChristmas party.

Since they had last crossed pathsSigyn had apparently completed her training, having exchanged her initiaterobes for more formal ones of grey overlayed with a dark purple sleeveless coatwith silver embroidery. She still wore gloves the same shade as her robes, andtoyed nervously with the bindings. Stark was being his obnoxious self as heintroduced the sorcerers to the rest of the superheroes, scientists, andobligatory celebrities gathered on the 68th floor, and just as Lokiwas sure that Strange was about to push Stark through a portal to the farreaches of the universe, the Man of Iron was distracted by his AI systemintroducing the newest arrivals to step off the elevator – in Latin. Their hostsufficiently distracted, the sorcerers began to mingle (Strange making for oneJane Foster, the next smartest person in the room, much to Thor’s thinly veiledannoyance), and Loki made his way over to Sigyn.

“That was a nice trick.”

“I have no idea what you’retalking about,” she replied automatically as she took a glass of somethingbubbly from a passing waiter.

“Of course you don’t,” Lokismiled. “Just as I have no idea what’s going on over there,” he said, pointingto the bar where Valkyrie was trying drink after drink, growing more frustratedas each turned to water on her tongue.

Sigyn stifled a laugh beforegazing around the room in search of her next target. The slight twitching ofher fingers was the only indication that she had made her play and it was a fewminutes before Loki understood what it was. There was a small commotion acrossthe room and the man out of time stumbled away from a group of overly affectionatedebutantes, a sprig of mistletoe followed him. If he stayed in one place forlonger than five seconds the mistletoe hovered over his head and the peopleclosest to him felt compelled to kiss him. It resulted in the good captainrunning laps of the room as he cursed Stark for inventing some sort ofmistletoe drone.

As the party guests laughed Sigynraised an eyebrow in challenge but before Loki could contemplate his next movea loud slap rang out. All eyes turned to find Doctor Strange getting chewed outby Doctor Foster before the petite brunette stormed off.

Sigyn gasped. “What did you do?”

“It wasn’t me. Itseems as though the Sorcerer Supreme is fully capable of making an ass out ofhimself without my assistance.”

They watched as Thor made tofollow Doctor Foster and the moment he caught up with her Loki sliced the airwith his arm, sending the former lovers flying into a storage closet at the endof the hall. He immediately sealed the room – no one would be able to heartheir cries for aid and for all Thor’s strength he would not be able to breakout of the room before dawn’s first light hit the tower.

“Really?” Sigyn scoffed.

“They have been tiptoeing aroundeach other for weeks. It’s been painful to watch. One way or another it endstonight.”

“Fair enough,” she mused as hersharp gazed scanned the room. With a sly smile she ran a finger around the rimof her glass and half the room fell silent before findingthemselves singing a rather passionate rendition of “Santa Claus is Comin’ ToTown”.

Loki barely had a moment to enjoythe confusion before he felt a sharp pinch between his ribs.

“That’s enough,” the widowcommanded, pressing a blade so hard against his side it pierced through hisleather vestments.

Before Loki could proclaim hisinnocence Sigyn took a sip from her glass and the chaos fizzled out intoconfused laughter and the sounds of drinks being topped up. Loki breathed asigh of relief as the blade was removed from his side.

“If you can’t behave yourself itmight be better for your health if you retired for the evening,” the widowsuggested before rejoining her friends.

“Haha,” Sigyn chortled into herdrink. “You lose.”

“How so?”

“You got caught,” Sigyn repliedas though it were obvious.

“But it wasn’t my trick.”

“It still counts.”

“It does not!”

“It does too!”

In a fit of frustration, and inan effort to best his sparring partner, Loki threw a glamour over Sigyn,ridding her of her robes and dressing her in a glittering golden gown similarto those he had seen a few models in attendance wearing. The figure-hugginggown was quite alluring on her, as was the amount of exposed flesh, until onegot to her now glove-free hands which were misshapen with leathery scars. Sigyndropped her champagne glass with an anguished scream when she realised whatLoki had done, angry tears filling her eyes when she felt the room staring ather. She turned on her heel and summoned a portal with her sling ring,disappearing in a shower of sparks.

“What did you do?” Strange sighedirritably as he appeared at Loki’s side.

“I may have taken things a steptoo far,” Loki conceded.

“You don’t say.”

“Is there any way to follow her?”

With another put upon sigh,Strange summoned a portal for him.

“If my favourite student doesn’tcome back, neither should you,” Strange warned before shoving him through.

The portal closed and Loki foundhimself face first in the snow. He righted himself and in the grey light he wasable to follow Sigyn’s footprints towards a church and the cemetery behind it.He found her seated before a headstone once again dressed in her in grey andpurple robes. Her gloves were lying on the ground beside her and her misshapenhands sat in her lap. Loki approached cautiously and when she failed to attackhim he sat down next to her, joining Sigyn in staring silently at the headstoneof one Marta Magnusson.

“Most days I can forget aboutthem,” she said without preamble, turning her scarred hands this way and that. “But thensomeone will comment on my gloves and I remember it anew. If I don’t wear them I have to put up with looks of disgust or pity. I’m notsure which is worse.”

“…How did it happen?”

“When I was but a child my fatherthrew me into the fireplace during one of his drunken rages, pushed me down bythe heel of his boot, my little hands pushing back against the burning logs asflames licked my face. It felt like hours of agony but my mother assured me itwas only seconds, either way the damage was done. Recovery was almost aspainful, and whenever I cried about it my mother would wipe away my tears andsay, “Women are defined by what they can endure, little Sigyn, so it is in allthe great stories, and you are far too strong to give up now.”

She fell silent then, content toignore her companion in favour of losing herself to long buried memories. Itstretched on long enough to make Loki fidget, a dozen empty platitude dying onhis silver tongue.

“I’m not showing you mine,” hemuttered, just loud enough to draw Sigyn’s attention.

“Hmm?”

“I’m not showing you my scars soyou’ll think us even,” he bit out petulantly. “Just know that I have them. Also,”he added with a belligerent sigh, “I’m sorry for bringing yours to light the wayI did. It was cruel.”

She accepted his apology with abrief nod but made no move to bury her past once more and leave the frozen cemetery. Loki sighed again, cursing his newfound sentimentality, and outstretcheda hand towards the headstone. Within minutes an ice sculpture formed behind itin the shape of a mother embracing her child. The child may have resembled Sigynbut, Loki realised too late, the mother was most definitely Frigga.

Sigyn’s eyes lit up inappreciation but as she turned to Loki her smiled faded. Loki followed her gazeto his outstretched hand, now azure blue. Chastened, he gave it frustratedshake as though his true heritage was something he could easily rid himself of.He crossed his arms to hide it from view until it returned to his prefershade and avoided meeting her eyes.

“Can you only manipulate ice?”she asked, surprising Loki.

“What?”

“Is it only ice you can create?”she repeated, smiling as her eyes drifted skyward to the flurries of snowflakesthat drifted past on the wind.

Loki, sensing mischief, smiledback. “What did you have in mind?”

The karaoke portion of Stark’s Christmasparty was due to begin, but as the host took the stage a blizzard developed outof thin air, pouring in from the balcony and blanketing the room with snow.Panicked and freezing guests sought to escape it but where met with icy gales thatpushed them back from the elevators and stairwells.

It disappeared as quickly as it came but left the entire floor covered in two feet of snow. Stark was thefirst to regain his senses, but before he could call for Loki’s head his ownwas struck with an icy projectile. He turned on the spot to find the SorcererSupreme smirking back at him, his cocky cloak dusting snow off whatever its equivalentto hands were.

“Oh, it’s on now, Strange.”

Loki hoisted himself up onto thebar and helped himself to an abandoned glass of champagne, laughing at thechaos before him as dozens of enhanced individuals engaged in an all-outsnowball war. Sigyn joined him moments later after quickly forming a portal withher sling ring to divert a wayward snowball down the back of Wong’s robes.

Loki beamed at his partner inmischief and pushed a drink into her gloved hand. “To what doesn’t kill us,” hetoasted.

Sigyn laughed and clinked herglass against his. “May it always make us a riot at parties.”