#crazy dip on that return position. reminds me of someone…

[cartererarchive]

Peter Carter’s parents discuss his playing style and progress. Also: Carter wins his match against John Alexander at the 1982 Adelaide tournament. Alexander reached a career-high rank of no. 8 in 1975 and won 7 tour-level titles. (1982)

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 11

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  “When we get out of here, Din will fly us far, far away,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the baby's resumed chewing. “I promise you we’ll be happy together.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,511

Warnings: captured reader, angst, bonding with Grogu, plot plot plot

Author Note: To anyone and everyone sticking with this series, I love you so much! I know the plot is more than a little thick right now, but answers are slowly but surely being revealed. 

Links to Part 1 and Part 10 and Part 12

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

You pace the length of the cell, brow furrowed as you try to organize your racing thoughts. Between the chilly atmosphere and the severed bond wailing for its other half, you imagine you outwardly resemble the jittery and unbalanced mess you feel internally. You refuse to feel humiliated by your appearance, not when the witnesses are Gideon and his minions. They can think what they want about you, believe they have broken your spirit, because that just means they won���t expect it when you free yourself until it’s too late.

However, part two of your plan of escape is proving to be more challenging to conceptualize than you initially thought. The collar is tightly wound around your neck to the point of chafing. Apparently the rule of being able to slip two fingers under a collar is only applicable to animals in Gideon’s eyes because your attempt of slipping your finger between skin and metal is dissuaded by another electric shock zipping through your body.

However, as you lightly trail your fingertips over the cold metal, you’re surprised to feel a noticeable dip in the back. It’s not a design flaw, you think as you try to visualize it in your mind. Your heartbeat quickens as realization strikes: it’s a keyhole.

Any excitement you might feel at your discovery is spoiled by the fact a keyhole is useless without a key. You look at the laser gate, further disappointed as you contemplate the complexity of the tunnel system. There could be dozens of cells down here, potentially thousands of hiding places for Gideon to keep the key to the collar secure. Not to mention, you don’t even know what the key looks like. It could be hanging right outside the cell and you’d have no idea.

Lost in the sea of disparaging thoughts, you don’t notice the return of the baby crawling through the hole in the wall until he latches onto your foot. Startled, you barely manage to refrain from shouting a curse as you stare down at him. He giggles, clearly amused by your wide-eyed expression, and then slaps a silver plastic bag against your shin using the hand that isn’t gripping his favorite black cloth.

“Did you bring me a present?” you ask, taking a seat on the pallet and lifting him up onto your lap. This time when you reach forward, he willingly lets you take the item from him instead of trying to take a chunk out of your hand.

You tear open the plastic, revealing its contents to be five teal-colored cookies.

“Wow, bud,” you murmur, holding one up between pinched fingers. The treat smells distinctively like vanilla. From what you’ve witnessed, you doubt Gideon is the type to offer his prisoners dessert with their meals which means these were probably stolen from somewhere. “Where did you find these?”

The baby only babbles unintelligibly in response, gesturing with his free hand in the direction of somewhere beyond the laser gate. You nod along, feigning understanding, but your eyes can’t help but drift to his collar when he turns his head. The keyhole for his collar is smaller than you expect to see which has you quickly theorizing there is not one universal key for all of the collars. If that theory is true, then it raises the difficulty of escaping yet another level.

With a sigh you cram the cookie into your mouth, finding the tiniest smidge of joy in its crunchiness.

“When we get out of here I’ll buy you a dozen boxes of these,” you tell him once you’ve swallowed, offering him one of the cookies. He coos excitedly and takes a large bite, uncaring of the blue crumbs that rain down upon his coat. “And once Din sees you, I bet he’ll want to spoil you rotten, too. He has a not-so-secret soft spot for kids.”

The baby’s head tilts, reacting to the name-drop by making a confused gurgling sound around his mouthful.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” you scold gently, tapping his nose with your finger and laughing under your breath when it proceeds to scrunch up in an adorable manner. Leaning your head back against the wall, you’re unable to keep the note of wistful longing out of your voice as you explain, “Din is my soulmate. To the rest of the world, he’s known as Death. They’ll have you believe he’s someone to be feared and avoided at all cost. But luckily I’m here to tell you the truth.”

He stares up at you, snack seemingly forgotten in favor of listening intently to every word coming out of your mouth. Distantly you think you should be a little scared by how intense his gaze is, as if he’s attempting to look past your skin to the soul beneath, but you remind yourself all babies are innately curious and don’t know it’s rude to stare.

“He’ll never admit to it himself, but underneath all that beskar armor, he is the most socially inept being in the galaxy. I swear, bud, the first time I met him I thought it was impossible for him to say more than two words or else he’d hurt himself.” Your lips twitch at the memory, the smallest of smiles you can make without it feeling forced. “Still, despite his horrible first impression, I couldn’t get him off my mind. I wouldn’t call it love at first sight, but—look, I know how crazy this sounds, okay? But I felt like I had to get to know him better. There was this voice in my head insisting we couldn’t just remain strangers. It took about ten thousand questions and three more meetings for me to earn his trust enough for him to take off his helmet and let me see his face.”

You take a deep breath and stroke your finger over the baby’s ears, needing to feel something other than the flaring pulse of pain from the bond. “One look at those beautiful brown eyes and I was done for.”

Saying Din’s eyes are brown feels sinful. It’s like saying the ocean is blue—accurate, but not detailed enough to describe its depth and volatility. There are days when his eyes are the shade of brown reminding you of leather bound journals—ancient and full of profound wisdom, meant to be admired and cherished for an entire lifetime. Other times, they are the kind of brown that matches your favorite chocolate pastry from the bakery down the street from your apartment—decadent and warm with the slightest hint of temptation.

“When we get out of here, Din will fly us far, far away,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the baby's resumed chewing. “I promise you we’ll all be happy together.”

And I’ll never get tired of seeing those brown eyes everyday.

~~

The hours start to bleed into one another. The baby snoozes in your lap, head pillowed on your thigh, but you have no idea if it’s night or day. Gideon had said he’d let you talk to Din ‘tomorrow’, but that doesn’t tell you how many days you’ve been here in total.

Your legs have started to feel numb from sitting in the same position so long, but the last thing you want is to wake him up by moving. The importance of him feeling safe enough to be vulnerable and sleep is not lost on you. His desire for attention and physical contact is so painfully obvious you hate thinking about how often he must have been ignored before your arrival.

As he sleeps, you’re unable to resist your curiosity any longer and carefully maneuver the piece of cloth out of his grip. Despite its aged and dirty appearance, it is still surprisingly soft to touch. Whatever article of clothing this was torn from must have been well-tailored, you think, imagining a hooded cloak or perhaps a long coat. Your nose twitches when you hold the cloth close to your face to better study it, reacting to the variety of odors embedded in the wool fibers. Maker knows how long the kid’s been dragging the fabric around with him without it being washed regularly, so you shouldn’t be surprised it has absorbed a couple dozen scents.

Still, the faint essence of smoke you detect swirls around in your brain even long after you’ve laid the cloth back over him like a makeshift blanket. Memories of your death start to resurface again despite your best mental efforts to push them away, causing your stomach to clench with nausea as you recall the horrific stench of charred remains.

It isn’t the same, you tell yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing your head to clear itself. It can’t be because that day was fifty years ago and he’s only just a baby.

You repeat these thoughts like a mantra until, without meaning to, you fall into a dreamless sleep.

~~

You’re startled awake by hands seizing hold of your arms and pulling you up onto your feet without warning. You yelp at the sudden rush back to consciousness, brain scrambling to make sense of everything. Your eyes sweep the ground, panic washing over you like a bucket of cold water when you fail to see a tiny green body.

“It’s time, pet,” the twi’lek’s voice hits your ears and you turn to see her standing near the cell’s entrance, a lantern in one hand and a shiny blade in the other. “The Moff is expecting you.”

It takes you a minute to process in your frazzled state, but you realize it must be time to talk to Din. You’re shoved forward by whoever has your arms twisted behind your back, but you manage another quick survey of the cell. There is no sign the baby was ever here and you send a quick prayer to the Maker he had snuck back through the hole without anyone seeing him.

You have mixed feelings about not being blindfolded as you’re led through the underground labyrinth. On one hand, you get to observe everything and everyone you come across, making as many mental notes to flip through later when you’re alone. On the other, you think this must be an intimidation tactic. Gideon wants you to see everything so you know with absolute certainty how high the odds are stacked against you.

There are cells identical in appearance to yours on either side of you, carved into the tunnel rock and blocked from entry by laser gates. Except not one of them contains a prisoner. Either you have severely overestimated the size of Gideon’s collection, or he is purposefully keeping you separate from the rest for reasons known only to him.

Another surprising and unsettling observation you make is how many different types of species Gideon has employed as minions—human, rodian, trandoshan, you even spot a devaronian in the mix. Except for the Cupid twi’lek in front of you, everyone you come across is mortal. It does not make much sense to you why a seraph as powerful as Gideon is relying on mortal henchmen to help maintain control of his secret prison. Your gut instinct is insisting you’re missing a vital piece of information and you don’t like being in the dark about it.

The tunnel you’re being marched down eventually opens up into a larger cavernous space with several dozen lanterns hanging along the walls providing ample lighting. There are several crates spread about the area, and some have been pried open to reveal they are packed full of blasters and ammunition. You rack your brain trying to determine the purpose of the weapons. Yes, clearly, they are meant to cause havoc and destruction, but why are they here? Who or what is the target they will be aimed at?

Gideon stands in the middle of the room next to an empty chair. On his other side is a mortal human male, bald-headed with ginger facial scruff, who has two blaster pistols holstered around his chest and yet another one held by a droid arm attached to his backpack. Overkill much?

You’re shoved in the direction of the chair and gruffly told to sit. Huffing, you wordlessly obey and try not to squirm as all eyes lock onto you as if you’re going to perform a trick for their entertainment.

“You have a minute to record your message,” Gideon says, holding out a piece of paper towards you. “These words I have prepared must be included in those precious sixty seconds or you might find me reluctant to allow you to send a second recording.”

Is he serious? This isn’t the arrangement you previously discussed with him.

“Record?” you repeat, reluctantly taking the paper.

“I never said you would have the opportunity of speaking to Death face-to-face.” You want more than anything to tear the condescending smirk off his face with your fingernails. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, isn’t that the mortal saying? You would know better than me, living amongst them in that quaint little apartment on Umbriel.”

Of course he knows about your home. Of kriffing course he does.

Heartbeat quickening, you avoid eye contact by scanning the few lines of words he’s written, eyebrows slowly inching up your forehead the more you read. “I don’t understand. This isn’t a demand to kill anyone. What does it mean?”

“Now is not the time for you to know,” he answers cryptically.

You shake your head, insisting, “Well maybe it should be. He knows me better than anyone. He’ll be able to tell I’m confused and—“

Gideon’s heavy sigh interrupts you. Then, quicker than you anticipate, he steps to the side of you and unsheathes his sword, its black blade positioned at your throat. It happens in one fluid movement, and the danger of your current predicament doesn’t sink in until the frightening humming notes of the weapon register in your eardrums seconds later. Your expressionless mask wavers, facial muscles tightening as you fail to refrain from flinching.

“All that is required from you, Cupid 1-1-7, is for you to speak from the heart and convince him to follow this one instruction. Do you think you can accomplish that?” he asks the question as if you have an actual choice. Like you can walk away now and there will be no hurt feelings.

But that is ridiculous. Everyone knows Cupids don’t get to have choices. Not when they are only given orders to obey.

You give him the tiniest of nods, careful not to let your skin make contact with the blade. “Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s begin.”

~~

The nav computer on the Razor Crest contains the coordinates of every moon and planet within each region of the galaxy. There is not one inch of space unknown to Din and yet his search for his angel continues to remain unsuccessful. He doesn’t consider the possibility of her being deceased for even half a second. As her soulmate he would have felt her passing the moment it happened. The bond he shares with his angel might be young and fragile still, but he doesn’t doubt her loss would eviscerate him in the same merciless manner he had done to Hess.

His inability to find her can only mean a powerful immortal is involved in her capture. As Death he roams the universe as a neutral entity. The only enemies he encountered—and he uses that term loosely—were foolish mortals thinking they could outlive their destined time by fighting him, only to ultimately meet their fated ends in the process. Prior to Hess’ demise, he had upheld his sworn creed to the universe and never once was tempted to defy the natural order or break a sacred rule.

Although admittedly strange to consider, the thought that maybe his angel’s capture isn’t meant to deliberately hurt him or her is one that keeps crossing his mind. Perhaps they are merely pieces in a game neither of them recognize nor want to willingly participate in.

As Din sits in the pilot’s seat, staring at the screen dispassionately through the visor of his helmet still coated with Hess’ blood, he is well-aware of Bo-Katan standing behind him, attempting to freeze him solid with her iciest glare.

She is the bravest of his reapers, unafraid to piss him off and counteract his opinions with her own. Yet ever since they left Hess’ body hanging in the warehouse and returned to the Crest, she’s not said one word to him, seemingly content to suffer in silence as a background presence while he contemplates whether he should be the one to track down the twi’lek Hess referenced or if he should have his reapers engage in the hunt.

“We’re going to talk about what happened,” Bo-Katan says coolly.

He grinds his teeth. “We will talk if and when I want to.”

“No.” She forcefully pulls at his chair, turning it around to face her. A snarl escapes him, animalistic and furious, but her green eyes don’t even blink, not the least bit intimidated. “You reaped a soul before it’s destined time. The universe isn’t going to easily forgive you for that. There will be consequences.”

“The only thing that matters is getting her back,” he answers. It’s the truth too. The second his angel was taken he knew there was not one rule he wouldn’t break to have her back in his arms—consequences be damned.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Bo-Katan asks, looking him over as if she no longer recognizes him. Her eyes linger just a second too long on his bloodstained gloves. “You’re losing your mind over a soulmate you’ve barely known a year.”

“Have you ever had someone you loved taken from you?” Din counters.

She scowls, eyes narrowing with loathing. “How dare you compare—”

“Answer the question!” he shouts, slamming his fist down on the armrest hard enough the metal creaks ominously.

“Yes.” Her chin dips briefly towards her chest as she takes a second to compose herself. “You know I have.”

Din does know. Hours prior to every major catastrophic event in the galaxy’s history he’s felt an invisible leash wrap around him, pulling him in the direction of the tragedy and demanding he be there to personally reap the souls of the victims in the aftermath. He had witnessed the destruction of Bo-Katan’s homeworld when it was ravaged by a series of bombings orchestrated by an unknown enemy. Thousands had been killed, including Bo-Katan’s sister.

He doesn’t let the silence stretch too long, voice unwavering as he says, “And if you had the chance, would you not kill the one responsible for your pain?”

“It wouldn’t bring her back. Not any of them.”

Din sighs, glancing away, but Bo-Katan surprises him not even ten seconds later, apparently unfinished.

“I’d still do it though,” she says, not sounding the least bit guilty for admitting to hypothetical murder. “I’d carve the heart out of whoever set off those bombs and force-feed it to them.”

“We’re more alike than you may think,” Din says. “Think about that before you question my actions again.”

Any potential response from his reaper is interrupted by the beeping of an incoming transmission. He turns his chair at once, noticing the recorded message’s origin source is a random scrambling of letters and numbers. Every instinct is telling him he won’t like what he sees, but his hand reaches forward anyways, as if possessed by an unseen force, and presses the button to view the recording.

His angel appears as a holographic figure and immediately his eyes zero in on the collar around her neck. Anger threatens to course through his veins again, but Din forces his lungs to draw in a deep breath. Now is not the time to unleash his temper. Now is the time to listen and commit every word she says to memory, to study her every feature for any sign she’s been hurt.

“Death,” she begins, and his entire body tenses at the use of his title and not his name. It’s been so long since she’s addressed him as such, he knows it can’t be accidental. “I hope this message reaches you wherever you are. More than anything I wish I could be with you right now. I’m so sorry I broke my pinky promise to you, sweetheart. The way our bond is...I hate to think you’re feeling as much pain as I do.”

Din’s heart shatters when she starts to anxiously rub at her soulmate marking, sniffling quietly. His fingers itch with the overwhelming longing to hold her hand.

“I’m not safe here. What they’ve threatened to do to me...it scares me. I-I need to ask you a favor, a very important one.” A few teardrops escape the corners of her eyes and drip down her cheeks. Din bites the inside of his mouth so harshly he tastes blood. “If you want to protect me, then you must let go.”

The transmission goes dead.

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[ragingpancake]

Menace 2 Society

Set during any time period when Rodney and the gang are on Earth. Possible The Return era. John's away and Rodney finds out a life of crime really isn't for him even though he's really good at it. ~1600 words. Crack.

Author's Note: a repost from my old livejournal, written for @popkin16 allllllll the way back in 2011.

The alcohol stopped burning several shots ago. Now, it slides down as easily as a glass of water (hold the lemon) so he downs the cheap whiskey and motions for another. He thinks the bartender is smirking as he slides the glass across the counter, so Rodney salutes him sloppily with two fingers. "To," he hiccups and burps. Half the liquid sloshes out of the tiny glass as he raises it in thanks. "T'you. For keepin' the good stuff comin'," he says. Or at least that's what he tries to say but it's possible he's speaking Ancient. He swallows and drops the glass back to the smooth bar top and leans over, pressing his face against the cool wood. It feels good and he wants to close his eyes and just sleep. It's not like anyone would miss him anyway.

He sighs and rubs his cheek against it and then he sighs some more. This has turned out to be a spectacularly shitty day. "Ca'I get one more?" Rodney asks. He wiggles a single finger in the bartender's direction, but he will not be swayed. "Sorry buddy. I think you've had enough." It sounds familiar and Rodney remembers even though he came here to forget. "Says who?" He asks, drawing himself up to full height. It's most likely ineffective because he can feel himself swaying on his bar stool. He'll be lucky if he doesn't topple right over into the floor like Humpty Dumpty and that's enough to set him off in a fit of manly giggles. He mumbles the nursery rhyme under his breath--at least, he means to--as he stumbles to his feet and wrestles his wallet out of his back pocket. His fingers, normally so deft and skilled, feel fat and totally useless as he opens the flap and wrestles a wad of money out. It isn't easy but eventually he's successful. He tosses a couple tens down on the counter. "S'been real, m'man!" He calls to the bartender and sweeps his jacket gracefully off the back of the stool. Well, he thinks he sweeps it gracefully off the back of the stool except he's not graceful even under the best of circumstances and drunk out of his mind doesn't really count. He almost falls, but he compensates and manages to keep himself upright. He's the fucking man. "Smooth, McKay," he congratulates himself and saunters--stumbles--towards the exit. Rodney has one hand on the doorknob when the sound of raised voices catches his attention. He whirls around, but when he stops, the room keeps going and it takes a minute until it stops spinning until for him to see the cause of the argument. A guy who reminds him vaguely of Ronon save for the awesome hair, growling a woman who's smaller than Keller. Normally, he would back out quickly before the giant spots him because this is more John's forte than his, but fortified by several shots of cheap whiskey, Rodney puffs up his chest and opens his mouth before his brain catches up. "Hey!" The woman shrinks back, seemingly trying to disappear under the table as the guy turns, narrowing his eyes at Rodney. "The fuck is your problem?" The guy slurs. Rodney hasn't thought this far ahead but he tries for a defiant slouch and glares. "You're m'problem! Maybe you should jus'... jus' shut up and yell at someone your own size." Had John, Ronon, Teyla or even Zelenka been around, they would have reminded Rodney to take his own advice because how many times had he yelled at poor old Miko over the years? The guy laughs and rounds the table, but Rodney doesn't falter. If anything, he stands--tries to--a little straighter and rounds his broad shoulders. There's a very teeny tiny part of his brain, the part that's going to be pissed at him for potentially damaging valuable brain cells when he's not so drunk, that screams at him to run, but he just holds his ground. "You wanna say that to my face?" The guy asks, so close that Rodney can smell what he had for dinner. It's almost enough to make him throw up. "I said you should jus' shut up." The guy reaches out and shoves  Rodney. The extra force is enough to knock him off his balance and he tumbles backwards into the coat rack. He's vaguely aware of the bartender yelling over to them, but he's annoyed now in a way that has nothing to do with idiot lab technicians. It's a struggle to get to his feet but he manages and this time when the guy swings, Rodney has enough foresight to duck. He'll thank Ronon later for teaching him to dodge the obvious blows and he'll thank Teyla for teaching him how to strike. His fist connects with the guy's nose and Rodney can feel the satisfying crunch under his fingers. "I did it!" He says, mildly surprised at actually landing a hit. The excitement doesn't last long though because he's only served to piss the guy off even more and this time when he swings, he doesn't miss. Rodney takes a couple of punches, but they're nothing compared to the beating he would have received before Atlantis, before Ronon

and Teyla, before John. They've taught him to use his bulk, his broad shoulders and big hands, to his advantage and while he doesn't escape completely unscathed, he's pleased to see that the other guy is no better off. Of course, he has exactly three point five seconds to celebrate before his arms are shoved behind his back roughly and held in place by the cool metal of handcuffs. A bar fight and an arrest all in one night? John would be so proud. And it's with that thought that Rodney doubles over and empties the contents of his stomach on the floor. --- There's nothing remotely exciting about being arrested, Rodney thinks mournfully as he shifts in the cracked plastic chair. He doesn't even get to go to real jail. Instead, he's being held in the processing room at the local police department, staring dumbly at the back of the officer's head. He's slouched down in a computer chair, playing Solitaire. Rodney wonders what it means about local law enforcement when they can't even win at that. He wisely keeps this thought to himself. "Don' I get a phone call?" He asks. His head is starting to ache and while he's sure he's already thrown up everything he's eaten in the last year and a half, he still feels like he's going to be sick. He really just wants Carter or hell, even Daniel Jackson to come get him so he can go home and sleep for a month. Or at least until John comes back. "Nope," the officer drawls and that's the end of that. Well okay then. He slumps miserably in his seat, handcuffs clinking the metal rail he's attached to. He really just wants to go home. Not home home but Atlantis home where everything was good and John wasn't being stupid and gallivanting off to another planet in the Milky Way with his brand new team. Without Rodney. Apparently, alcohol was counterproductive because while it was supposed to make him forget, it's all he can think about. He's pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a quiet click and when the door opens up, Rodney can hardly believe his eyes. "Hey buddy," John greets, smiling lazily like Rodney isn't handcuffed for a reason that doesn't involve kinky sex. "What are you doin' here?" "Bailing you out," John says easily. "And really? A bar fight? What were you thinking?" "I was amazing," Rodney says, smiling despite himself. He goes to stand and then remembers he can't exactly go anywhere, so he flops down into the chair and sighs loudly. "John?" "Yeah buddy?" "Can we go home now?" John just grins. --- By the time they make it to Rodney's apartment, Rodney's ready to seriously pass out. He's exhausted and his face is hurting from where that Neanderthal's fist connected with it, but mostly, he's just so happy John is back that he wants nothing more than to get upstairs, get naked and sleep for a month. This time with John. It's a chore to get out of the car and up the stairs, but when John finally shoves the apartment door open, Rodney stumbles in gratefully. "You left me," he accuses halfheartedly as he pulls his shirt over his head with clumsy hands, throwing it onto the back of the couch. "Big jerk. S'your fault, y'know." "It's my fault you got arrested?" "Yes," Rodney sighs. John doesn't argue; he grabs the shirt from the couch and then steers Rodney into the bedroom and Rodney is positive that he's stifling a laugh when he face plants onto the bed. "Turned me into a hardened crim'nal. S'all your fault," he mutters, muffled by the mattress. "A hardened criminal, huh?" "You make me crazy." "I feel the same way about you," John says fondly. The bed dips under John's weight and a second later, Rodney finds himself cuddled up against John's side. He presses his face against John's neck and breathes in his scent. "Don't go 'way anymore, 'kay?" "I'm not going anywhere," John promises. "Especially after this. Who knew a few hours apart would send you spiraling downward into a life of crime?" Rodney just nods solemnly and snuffles quietly against John's neck. "'M such a menace to society," Rodney mutters. John laughs his horrible donkey-laugh and

Rodney feels fond lips against the top of his head. "You're a menace alright. Get some sleep, McKay. I have a feeling you're gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning." Rodney's already fast asleep.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Smut

Chapter 10

* * * * * * 

Eyebrows shoot up into your hairline. E/c eyes blinking in surprise.

Across from you stands the entire team, in front of them is a large breakfast spread, and balloons. 

You smile with a shake of your head,“ what is all this for?” 

Tony smiles, rounding the corner to stand at your side. His arm circles your shoulder,“ as of today, you have officially been with us for a year.”

“Awe, guys this really didn’t have to be celebrated.” You tell them, once again looking at all the food on the counter. 

All of them instantly wave you off a layer of replies rolling over you varying from “you deserve it” to “Tony just wants to party” which makes you laugh. 

Said billionaire picks up two champagne flutes and hands one to you. 

“Y/n, this is to a year of being the greatest of friends, a shoulder to cry on, and pretty much the most important member of this team.” Tony holds his glass up and everyone follows in agreement.

Most important member is a stretch in your opinion but they all seem to think so. 

Taking a sip, you realize this orange juice is mixed with champagne. Which you should’ve expected from Tony. 

Everyone starts to dig into the breakfast, chatter filling the room like it usually does throughout the facility. 

“Y/n, congrats!” Peter exclaims, happily wrapping you in a hug that you return.“ I can’t believe it’s been a year. It’s like just yesterday I was learning your name right? And now we’re like best friends.” The boy rambles.

Chuckling, you give him another one armed hug,“ I was starting to see you as more of a little brother actually.”

His brown eyes light up, just like they had on Christmas.“ I’ve never had an older sister before.” 

“I know.” You chuckle again.

He smiles brightly once again and gives you another hug,“ I’m glad we met Y/n.” 

“Me too Pete.” You rub his back and then pull away. The both of you then going to fix a plate.

Setting your overflowing plate(thanks to Tony’s persistence) on the table, you move to pull your chair out, only for a certain redhead to pull it out for you. 

“One full year huh?” She winks at you and sits in the chair next to you. 

One year with the team and six months with her. 

All that time seemed to fly by in the moment but looking back on it now it’s like more than a year. A year of building these incredible friendships and the most important relationship you’ve had. 

“Crazy right.” You breathe a laugh.

Natasha leans towards you, arms supporting her on the table,“ call me corny but, this has been the best year of my life.” 

Your hand reaches up to cup her cheek,“ I couldn’t agree more,” the two of you meet for a short sweet kiss,“ also you are corny.” 

Laughing, the woman rolls her eyes and kisses you again. 

“As cute as you two are, I’d rather eat my food without all the PDA.” Wanda’s voice invades the small moment. 

“Sorry Wan.” You smile softly at her.

The younger woman waves you off,“ I was only joking. Partly.” 

When the rest of the team sits at the table, you take a moment to thank all of them. Not just for the breakfast but for being so welcoming and just incredible in general. 

All the relationships you’ve built wouldn’t have happened without them. And you wouldn’t have been able to help them if they didn’t trust you. 

They raise another glass to your thanks and Tony tells you it’s only the tip of the iceberg since he’s throwing you a party later. You’re quick to tell him that’s not necessary but he informs you it’s all planned already. 

There hadn’t been a “Stark Party” in a while according to the team. Sam and Peter were quick to thank you, saying they didn’t think there’d be one if you hadn’t showed up. 

You hadn’t been to one of Tony’s parties in years. Since long before both snaps. 

So you are, admittedly, excited for it. After you’ve gotten dressed you wait an hour after the party had started, as Tony asked you to, before heading out. And even though you were expecting the surprise, the number of people that shout “Happy One Year!’ to you startles you.

An excited laugh leaves your lips and once again Tony approaches you first. 

“Okay,” you nod,“ I’ll admit this is pretty great.” You smile at him as the two of you hug. Pulling away you then look to his wife.“ Pep, it’s great to see you.” 

She squeezes you tightly,“ I hate that you’ve been here a year and we’ve barely spent any time together.” 

Your eyes widen in agreement,“ I know. It’s been way too long since we’ve had a wine night.” 

Together the two of you quickly plan a night to do so. Pepper then urging you to go mingle. And you do, making your way through the large crowd of people, those you’ve met and others you’re positive you’ve never seen before. 

Until you approach a pair of both someone you know and someone you’ve only heard of.

“Y/nn!” 

A smile bursts across your face the second she smiles at you. The blonde woman’s energy contagious. 

“Carol! I missed you.” You hug her close, reminded of the months it’s been since she was last here.“ You didn’t have to travel all the way through the galaxy for this but I’m glad you’re here.” 

Her hands rub your arms as she pulls away,“ me too. I’ve missed you.” She then steps back, hand resting on the back of the woman you assume to be her girlfriend,“ Y/n this is Maria Rambeau. Maria this is Y/n.”

Maria smiles at you, holding her hand out,“ Carol’s told me a lot about you, it’s a pleasure.” 

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine. This one doesn’t shut up about you when we talk.” You say teasingly, chin nodding to Carol who’s cheeks tint pink. 

The smile Maria sends to Carol is full of nothing but love and adoration. And if there was ever any doubt that Carol loved her, the smile she returns throws it out the window. But you knew.

Your body stiffens in shock when a hand presses to your lower back and you quickly relax once the familiarity of the soft skin and cold temperature hits you.   

Your girlfriend smiles over at you and you don’t even fight the urge to place a kiss to her cheek. Afterwards looking back at Carol and Maria.“ Maria this is my girlfriend Natasha. Tash this is Maria, Carol’s girlfriend.” 

“Nice to meet you. Carol’s told me a bit about you.” Natasha nods to the woman.

All the while Carol is smiling proudly at you, which you shake your head at in amusement. 

The blonde quirks a brow,“ girlfriend huh? And how long has that been going on?” Her tone is teasing and curious. 

Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you mumble,“ six months.” 

Carol’s proud smile becomes knowing and you swear the heat rushing to your face could be felt around the room. 

Natasha, being the god send she is, excuses the two of you. Gracefully pulling you through the crowd to the designated dance floor. 

She pulls you to stand in front of her. Those cold hands circling your waist, hands locking behind you at the dip in your back. 

Focusing on this moment, your eyes scan her face, taking in her perfect lips, her cheekbones and those tiny dimples, and those eyes. God you swear those eyes were the start of it all. 

“You’re so pretty Natasha.” Your hands grip her hips a little tighter.

A smirk curves her lips,“ and you’re beautiful.” 

Despite your blush, you jokingly add,“ well you’re gorgeous.” 

She laughs, forehead resting on your shoulder,“ getting competitive are we?”

“Maybe a little.” You kiss her temple just before she lifts her head.

The two of you continue to sway to the lowly playing soft music, completely entranced by each other’s presence. 

For the last six months the two of you have reveled in these moments together. Some days you could spend together completely. Others you had to steal minutes throughout just to see each other. But it was all perfect.

Learning about Natasha has just proven to make you fall for her more and more. You could safely say your list of reasons why you like her has become reasons why you love her and it’s definitely grown longer.

As all good things come to an end, you’re pulled from your moment with Natasha, by the hand on your shoulder. It’s unexpected which startles you but you’re further startled by the force of the emotions hitting you.

You spin around and lock eyes with Bucky. The anxiety you’d just felt from him is hidden in his eyes, had he not touched you, you wouldn’t have known. 

His jaw clenches,“ can we talk?”

“Of course.” You nod, hand squeezing Natasha’s waist as you mumble an excuse me, and walk away with Bucky. 

Once in an empty hallway he turns to you, his feelings now showing. Fingers wringing together, his teeth abuse his bottom lip, and his eyes remained trained on the ground. 

Knowing not to touch him unless told to, you choose to speak softly,“ Buck, I can tell you’re incredibly anxious. What’s going on?” 

“I-” he swallows and when his eyes meet yours there are tears welling in them,“ I saw someone. Someone from HYDRA. I- I don’t know if I’m seeing things or if they were actually here.” 

This was a recurring problem with Bucky. One you’d discovered while taking him and Steve to the mall one day. Being in such large crowds overwhelmed the man, triggering his anxiety which in turn triggered hallucinations. 

When you addressed it then he revealed that he’d been experiencing these highly anxious moments for a while. The first time the hallucinations had him was months before you’d gotten there while he and Steve were out together. 

At that point you’d begun working him through breathing exercises. Coming up with ways to help him cope with the anxiety so that it wouldn’t reach a point where he hallucinated. 

“Bucky breathe. Five seconds in and out.” He starts to do as instructed. 

You then walk him through his five steps. Listing five things he can see, four things he can hear, three things he can feel, two things he can smell, and one thing he can taste. 

He’s calmed down but you can tell he’s still anxious.

“Hey,” your hands rub his arms,“ I’m gonna make it go away okay?” 

Brown eyes look into yours and he nods. 

Taking a deep, stilling breath in, you take away his major anxiousness, and project the happy excitement you’ve been feeling to him. 

Bucky brightens instantly, giving you a small smile, and squeezing your arms.“ I- thank you Y/n.” 

“Anytime Buck.” 

You wait for the man to disappear around the corner before collapsing to the ground. Your back presses to the wall as you breathe heavily. 

“Y/n?”

Overly anxious, you involuntarily jerk away from the redhead beside you. 

The woman’s heart races as she looks at you, eyebrows pinched together,“ Y/n what’s wrong?” 

“Just- hold on.” You speak through deep breaths. 

Natasha waits with you until you calm down. When your body finally untenses and you sag against the wall, your girlfriend moves to kneel in front of you. 

Fingers grazing your legs she asks, with a soft demanding tone,“ what was that?”

“It was nothing. I’m fine I promise.” 

“That wasn’t fine. When you left you you were fine. Just now, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” She presses. 

You push your hands up your face and through your hair,“ I didn’t. I was just-”

“Using your powers on Bucky.” She finishes, an almost hard look setting in her eyes. 

Her words take you by surprise. 

When she found out about your powers is lost on you. And what did she know about them? 

Eyes wide, you can barely ask what she’s talking about before she speaks again.“ Have you been using your powers on everyone this entire time?” 

“I- yes.” 

“And you weren’t going to say anything?” She stands. 

Following suit, you stand as well,“ I was going to tell you but I didn’t want to worry you. And I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle it-”

A deep frown covers her brow,“ you never even gave me a chance. Am I correct in assuming you’ve been lying to me then? All those times I came to see you after your session and you told me you were fine?”

“That wasn’t necessarily a lie. I was fine it just took me a minute.” 

“Necessarily?” Green eyes narrow at you.“ Lying is lying I don’t care how technical you want to get about it. I do care that you’ve constantly been telling me to trust you and be honest, yet you’ve been lying since the beginning.” 

You open your mouth to protest or object but she’s right.“ Tash I’m sorry okay. I swear I was planning to tell you.”

“Planning or not, you lied. You could’ve just told me you weren’t ready to talk about it. How was lying the better option?” A deep sigh leaves the woman’s lips and she runs a hand through her hair, before simply turning to leave. 

“Wait Ta-”

She holds her hand up,“ don’t follow me Y/n. I need a minute. Just go enjoy your party.” 

With that she leaves you in the hall alone. And you can only blame yourself.

* * * * * *

taglist: @username23345 @muffliat-o  @aaron-despair @natasha-danvers​ @wildhoney32 @criminallyhamilton @fayhar @nat-km-mh @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch

[artificialqueens]

(I Feel Like) I've Been Wanting You All My Life (Rosenali) - Goodemethyd

A/N: sequel to (We Don’t Need Words) Let Your Body Talk featuring more rosenali smut. thanks to everyone who read/liked/reblogged that one and hopefully y’all like this one too

Summary: “Are you still coming over tonight?” she asks when Rosé meets her on the other side of the bar.

“Yeah. Hopefully cleanup won’t take too long.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Denali says, pulling Rosé in close for a kiss that practically makes her weak in the knees, and she really wants to make an excuse to leave early. There’s no place she’d rather be right now than in Denali’s bed. But she knows that there’s no way Jan and Lagoona would buy it.

Read on AO3

Rosé can’t believe her life is real at the moment. At least once a week she has to pinch herself to make sure that she’s not dreaming. But it’s real, and she’s actually dating the hottest woman on the planet. After the night where Rosé made a fool of herself and thought all hope was lost, Denali surprised her by being into it. And she continues to surprise her every day.

She’s at work again, this time it’s a Friday night and it seems like every single person who lives in New York is packed into the club. Rosé has served so many drinks, she wonders how they have any alcohol left. But with the way she’s reeling in the tips, she would never complain. Add that to the fact that Denali is there, showing off for her on the dance floor, and Rosé is one happy human.

There’s a lull in the crowd at the bar, and Rosé takes her chance to take a quick break, hoping that Denali is watching her like she normally does so she can meet her out in the back alley.

Rosé’s not disappointed when Denali steps out of the door just a few moments after she does.

“You look really hot out there tonight,” Rosé informs Denali as she wraps her arms around her waist, pulling her in close.

“I know,” Denali says, giggling before she closes the small gap still between them to attach her lips to Rosé’s. Rosé deepens the kiss, moving her tongue against Denali’s and lets her hand run down Denali’s body to rest on her ass, which has quickly become one of Rosé’s favorite body parts.

She loses herself in the kiss, enjoying the press of their bodies against each other as she leans against the brick wall of the club, and Denali slots her thigh between Rosé’s legs. Denali starts getting handsy then, pushing her hands up under the hem of Rosé’s tank top and running her fingers along the swell of her breasts. Rosé’s breath catches in her throat when her thumb brushes against her nipple, and she grinds down against Denali’s thigh without thinking.

Rosé is getting way too flustered for someone who is standing in an alley in public while she’s technically at work, but she’s saved from herself when the door flies open.

“Can you stop fucking your girlfriend out here and help us with this crowd, bitch?” Lagoona shouts, sticking her head out.

“We’re not fucking!” Rosé yells back, laughing, but she starts to disentangle herself from Denali, trying to gain her composure so she can go back in and do her job. It’s probably a good thing Lagoona came out when she did or Rosé might not have been able to say that truthfully. She just can’t seem to help herself when it comes to Denali.

“I wish we were,” Denali mutters. It’s sometimes a blessing and sometimes a curse that Denali feels the same way about her.

“I’ll come over when I’m off tonight. Then I’m all yours,” Rosé promises and kisses her softly one more time before they head back inside.

Rosé has been going to Denali’s when she gets off work more often than not lately. So often that Denali gave her a key a couple weeks ago. It’s close and convenient, and Rosé would much rather share Denali’s bed than sleep alone.

Denali follows Rosé to the bar when they get back inside, shoving her way up to the front to lean against the counter, positioning herself to make sure that her cleavage is on display before ordering a drink. Rosé takes her time preparing it, getting distracted by Denali’s tits and completely ignoring the judgmental stares coming her way from Jan and Lagoona.

She passes it over when it’s ready, and Denali presses money into her hand before she can move it out of the way. Once Denali found out how much money Rosé was losing from her own check for all the free drinks she’d given her, Denali insisted on paying, and insisted that Rosé could give her some free things that were much better than drinks later on.

“Thank you, baby,” Denali says, leaning over to kiss Rosé before taking a sip of her drink, and Rosé ignores the gagging sounds Jan and Lagoona make behind them.

Denali sits at the bar for a bit longer, sipping her drink slowly, and Rosé keeps sneaking glances at her while she’s serving up drinks to other patrons, winking at her and relishing in the dimpled smiles she gets in return. Denali gets her attention and gives her another kiss before making her way back to the dance floor, and Rosé enjoys the view as she goes, her red dress hugging her curves in all the right places.

It gets really busy again, and Rosé doesn’t have a spare second to think about anything other than the drinks she’s serving up, losing track of Denali on the dance floor.

When there’s another small lull in the crowd at the bar, Rosé takes a quick glance over, looking for her girlfriend, and she drops the bottle of beer she’s holding when she sees her. The way Denali is moving reminds Rosé of something she did in the bedroom a few nights ago, and she barely registers the way Jan and Lagoona are laughing at her as she cleans up the broken bottle and tries to wipe the beer off herself because she’s so lost in thought.

Soon enough it’s closing time, and Denali comes over to say goodbye before she takes off.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” she asks when Rosé meets her on the other side of the bar.

“Yeah. Hopefully cleanup won’t take too long.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Denali says, pulling Rosé in close for a kiss that practically makes her weak in the knees, and she really wants to make an excuse to leave early. There’s no place she’d rather be right now than in Denali’s bed. But she knows that there’s no way Jan and Lagoona would buy it.

“I’ll see you soon,” Rosé says before she heads back behind the bar, starting to work on her nightly closing duties. She can’t even pick up the spray bottle to start cleaning before Jan and Lagoona swoop in on her.

“Sooooo, you and Denali. Seems like it’s getting pretty serious,” Jan starts, and Rosé just ignores her, spraying the counter and wiping it down.

“I think you owe us some details here,” Lagoona adds in, starting on inventory. “We’re the reason why you got together in the first place.”

“Fine,” Rosé relents, knowing it’s the truth. “What do you want to know?”

Rosé provides all the details the girls request, telling them how much she really likes Denali, how happy she makes her, and how fantastic she is in bed. She probably has hearts in her eyes as she talks, because that’s just the effect that Denali has on her, and she’s not ashamed of it.

When they’re finally done closing up, Rosé has a spring in her step as she walks the few blocks to Denali’s apartment. She uses her key to let herself in and heads straight to the shower, memories flashing back as she quickly rinses the sticky beer off herself. She dries off and doesn’t bother getting dressed before heading down the hallway to Denali’s bedroom, ready for some naked fun.

But when Rosé gets there, and she sees Denali sleeping peacefully, looking as gorgeous as always, she doesn’t have the heart to wake her up. She just climbs into bed and snuggles up against her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She presses her nose in close to Denali’s hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo as she drifts off to sleep.

She’s awoken the next morning by soft lips on her cheek, and there’s a smile on her face before she even opens her eyes.

“Good morning,” Denali whispers and then moves from Rosé’s cheek to her mouth, pressing a sweet kiss onto her lips. “Sorry I fell asleep before you got here.”

“It’s okay.” She’s honestly just happy to spend time with Denali at all, even if they are sleeping.

“Let me make it up to you,” she says, swinging one leg over Rosé and straddling her.

Rose’s definitely not going to object to that. She lies back and enjoys it while Denali attaches her lips to her neck, kissing down to her breasts and sucking a nipple into her mouth. Her hands wander along Rosé’s body, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and by the time Denali kisses her way down further, settling between her legs, Rosé is dripping wet.

Denali runs a finger through the slickness between her folds, dipping in when she gets to Rosé’s entrance, and she can’t help the moan that falls from her lips.

“Fuck,” Rosé breathes out, and it seems to spur Denali on further, because she pushes another finger in and starts fucking her slowly, glancing up her body to make eye contact. Rosé shivers under her gaze.

Denali smirks at her, showing off the dimples that Rosé can never get enough of, before breaking eye contact to bury her face in Rosé’s pussy. She licks around her fingers, just soft, slow caresses of her tongue and it’s driving Rosé crazy. She grips the bedsheets in her fists and wriggles underneath Denali’s ministrations, wanting more. Denali seems to get the picture and moves to focus on her clit with the same torturously slow licks, just on the edge of great but not quite enough to really get her going.

“Fuuuck,” Rosé groans again. “Faster, baby. Please.”

It doesn’t take long for Denali to pick up her pace, licking faster and giving Rosé what she wants. Rosé can’t help but move her hips in time with Denali’s licks and the thrusts of her fingers, feeling the pleasure starting to overwhelm her. Her toes curl as she reaches her orgasm, moaning Denali’s name and reaching to tangle her fingers in her hair. Denali licks her through it, slowing the movement of her fingers as Rosé clenches around them. She feels boneless when she comes down, not able to move a muscle as Denali withdraws her fingers and crawls her way back up Rosé’s body.

“God, that was good,” Rosé breathes out after Denali kisses her, and she starts regaining control of her body, able to move her arms and hold Denali close to kiss her again. “What do you want?” she asks when they pull away.

“Just kiss me,” Denali answers before she attaches their lips together again, licking into Rosé’s mouth as she straddles one of her thighs, grinding down against it. Rosé grips her ass, pulling her in closer as she continues kissing her, swallowing the moans she’s making. She can feel how wet Denali is against her thigh, but Rosé wants to feel it with her fingers. She snakes her hand down between their bodies until she reaches her cunt, trying to get her fingers on her clit, and Denali breaks from the kiss to groan into Rosé’s neck when she makes contact.

“Feels good,” she breathes out. “I’m close, baby. Keep doing that.”

Rosé follows Denali’s instructions and continues to rub circles into her clit, working to get her off. “You gonna come for me, baby?” she whispers into Denali’s ear before flicking her tongue out to lick and bite down on it.

“Yeah,” Denali gasps and thrusts against Rosé a few more times before she comes, groaning and biting down on Rosé’s shoulder. A few moments later, she rolls over to the side, starfishing her arms out and breathing hard.

“Nap time,” Denali says, her eyes already starting to drift closed as she moves to cuddle up against Rosé. Rosé chuckles and settles into Denali’s arms, more than willing to get some more sleep before going for round two.

[imaginesrus]

Bad Decisions

Reader x Francis ‘Ajax’ Freeman (Deadpool)

Summary: You were one of ‘The Workshop’s’ experiments however all that was behind you until you come home to find a certain manufactured mutant bad guy sitting on your couch looking for information.

Author’s note: So I recently rewatched Deadpool and had forgotten how much I loved Francis/Ajax in this movie and then this idea took hold and I couldn’t let it pass. Sorry if you are subscribed just for the Steve content but I’m experimenting with branching out a little. If you enjoy this and would like more please let me know. Suggestions for content are always graciously accepted.

You had never expected to see him again. After all, you had kept up your side of the bargain.

Five years.

Five years chained and collared to a purpose you couldn’t care about. Five years fighting a battle in which you had no vested interest, except to make it back each time in one piece.

When your time had finally come and your debt repaid you bent that silver collar until you had felt it snap-in on itself with a satisfying crack. Freedom had never felt so good.

But as it turned out old habits were hard to break and despite the yearning, you felt to return to the normal life you found yourself feeling something missing, and that was how you had found yourself dipping your toe into that life again. You lied to yourself that it would be just one more job, just enough so that you had enough money to set yourself up then you would return to normal. You told yourself that this was different. You had the choice of what jobs you would take on, you were no longer anyone's puppet. You were crafting your own path and direction, just not the one you had ever thought you would.

Besides ‘normal’ was no longer part of our vocabulary, and when curiosity had gotten the better of you you had discovered that 6 years missing was as good as dead to those you had left behind. You didn’t belong there anymore.

You closed the door of your apartment behind you eyes closing as you leant your head against the door. All you could think about was running your bath and slipping into the warm water, allowing it to ease your aching muscles. Perhaps even opening that bottle of wine you had been saving, a thank you of sorts from a pleased client who happened to own a renowned vineyard as a side project.

But it seemed that there was to be a change of plans when you saw the very man who had started this all, sitting casually on your sofa as if he owned it.

Fucking Ajax.

And he had opened that bottle of wine.

Your eyes flicked to the knife block that sat on the kitchen counter, while your hand remained on the doorknob. He took his time taking a sip from the glass in his hand before placing it calmly on the coffee table, your coffee table.

There were two clear options, fight or flight. Neither one was particularly appealing. But you were damned if you were going to let them take you in again, turn you back into a slave.

“I’m not here for a fight, Sweetheart.” He said calmly, as he rose from the couch and instinctively you edged your back against the door.

He held up his hands, showing that he had no weapon. Like he needed one. You had seen first hand that his body itself was enough of a weapon. You had wondered whether lacking the ability to feel he had become more machine than man.

“So why are you here then?” You ask, trying to steady your breathing as he continues to advance towards you, his stance open and inviting as if you were friends. But you can see the calculation in his eyes, watching your movements closely, ready for you to run.

“Can’t a doctor check-in with his favourite patient?” He asks with a quirk of his eyebrow and you let out a laugh. Unable to remain silent on the absurdity of the whole situation. “Share a drink reminisce?”

“One, calling yourself a doctor is a little generous don’t you think? And, two, I am far from your favourite patient.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he replies with a smile, his eyes roaming over your body in a way you haven't noticed before. A way that creates a tangle of heat in the base of your stomach.

You focus again, pushing any of those ‘notions’ from your mind and coming back to the fact that he has advanced again, only a mere steps away and you still don’t have a plan, your gaze was drawn back to the knife block, out of reach.

“But maybe it is a little more than that.”

Of course, it is.

“Someone has been looking for me,” his jaw clenches and you revel a little in the thought that something has managed to get under his skin, “a frustrating little worm in a black and red suit.”

Now that rings a bell, in fact, the other night while you had been at Sister Margaret’s a man in one of those ridiculous superhero costumes had been asking around for someone. Swearing about revenge and retribution for what someone had done to him. You hadn’t paid too much attention, the bar usually attracted a few crazies in amongst the regulars but this one had been particularly determined to find a man called ‘Francis’.

“Wait, you’re Francis?” It was starting to come together now. He must have been part of the project as well, it was not surprising that Ajax was on someone’s kill list. You ruin numerous lives it is bound to catch up with you sooner or later.

“You’re the guy he is looking for?”

With that last question, the smirk is wiped from his face. His enhanced reflexes allow him to move quickly to box you in, his arms braced on either side of your body up against the door. His eyes dark as he stares you down.

Your heart is beating wildly and you struggle to maintain your focus. If you are to have any chance of surviving this encounter you need to remain calm.

“He was here?” There is a distinctive edge to his voice now, the casual friendliness no longer present.

“No,” you say, quickly shaking your head. “Not here. At that bar on the other side of the city, the dodgy one with the smart-arse bartender. It’s a good place to pick up jobs.” You explain quickly your mouth running away from you. Hoping that once you let him know that his trip to your apartment has proved fruitless that he will leave and you can start to immediately look for another apartment.

But he doesn’t shift his stance, leaving you blocked and trapped. His head tilts as he looks over you, and you feel even more nervous under his gaze.

“Still making use of those gifts then,” he smiles as his finger traces over your shoulder, travelling down your arm in a movement so slow and delicate it’s intention is explicit.

"Maybe you should give me a little demonstration?" He cocks his head to the side, examining you looking for a sign of weakness or hesitation, you refuse to give him the opportunity.

"How do you know I'm not already?" you quirk your eyebrow as your fingers twist just slightly. Your breathing remains controlled as you speak, taking satisfaction in the confusion in his eyes.

"Sometimes I forget that you can't feel anything. Not even the knife I've currently got pointed at your back. In between your L1 and L2 vertebrae if I 'm correct, but then again I'm not the doctor here. Now maybe this knife isn’t sharp enough on it’s own, but I’m sure I can put enough telekinetic energy behind it to sever your spinal cord."

Instead of retreating or freezing in place, he lets out a laugh.

“You have changed haven’t you?” You freeze as his fingers trace across your cheek, “Where is my timid little mouse?”

You turn your face away, breaking the contact as it stirs feelings you are not in the mood to confront tonight.

“She was lost after that first kill.” You admit, even though it was a blur, you remembered the look in their eyes as life fled their body as the results of your actions. A simple twist of your fingers had been all it took to snap a neck.

“Would you kill me?” amusement tinges his voice which makes you blood boil urging you to push the knife further.

“If I had to.” You tell him, even though the simple answer should be yes. Those years were stolen. Even though they were years that you would have never had otherwise. Ajax or Francis had always been an enigma to you. Never giving anything away of himself during your sessions.

You rise to your toes so that you can attempt to match his height. “You don’t hold the power here, not anymore.”

A smile broadens across his lips as he looks almost impressed.

“You know it wasn’t a complete lie when I said you were my favourite patient. Quiet, yes, but one of those spirits that are hard to break, I had to work hard to trigger that mutation. I had thought maybe after your mutation that you may work beside me, at the Workshop.” He sighed, “But a telekinesis mutation, much too valuable on the private market. Not that you have suffered for it. It looks good on you. And now that you are a free agent.”

You search his eyes for what was the truth and they were just as cold and unreadable as ever. Could he actually be deluded enough to think that you would join him?

“Drop the knife, Sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear and you are reminded of all the times he would call you that, even before he snapped the cold metal collar around your neck as you were delivered to who would be your handler.

‘That’s it, Sweetheart, hold still for me.’ The last thing you heard until your surroundings before everything became faded and blurred.

“Or I can make you drop it,” he warns.

You want to laugh at his continued blind confidence in his own abilities even in his vulnerable position. But you are cut off by his lips pressing against your own.

Even though you could feel the tension in the air, his kiss takes you by surprise. It may have been unexpected but it is in no way unpleasant, and you can chastise yourself later on your poor decision making as you move your lips against his.

You hear the knife clatter to the floor, your concentration is broken, as his hand grips your hip.

You can still taste the wine on his lips as your tongue darts out to trace across his bottom lip.

You should stop this, should push him away from you with your mind or body, whichever feels like cooperating, but there is a part of you that craves this. Perhaps the part of yourself that was twisted and moulded by the Workshop itself.

Besides, it’s been a while since you made an epically bad decision. You are well overdue.

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 26

I finished my call with Connie, who was begging for details about just how hot things had gotten between Bucky and me, forcing me to ask her how she’d feel if I pressed her for details about her sex life with Joey.

“What do you want to know?”  She asked, clearly settling in for a LONG chat.  “Favorite positions?  How we have to squeeze it in between games or how we have to smother noises so Bryn doesn’t hear us having fun times and want to see what Mommy and Daddy are doing so she can join in?”  I cringed so badly that I felt certain she could FEEL it.  “Seriously, Brooke, I’ll share anything you want to know.”  

“Yeah, I’m good,” I shook off the idea of Joey naked, a guy who was like a brother to me.  “I thought it would nip your curiosity in the bud, weirdo.”

Connie snickered.  “Sure,” I could hear her opening a can of something, soda or booze I couldn’t guess.  “I have to live through you, Brookie, you’re my single friend who is dating an AVENGER.”  I shook my head and rolled my eyes.  “Bucky Barnes isn’t just an Avenger, he’s Captain America’s best friend who happens to be over a hundred years old and still looks like he looks.  I mean, there are LAYERS of hotness there.”  

I couldn’t disagree with her there, so I gave her a few nuggets to keep her from going completely batty.  Enough to whet her appetite, but not enough to make me unable to make eye contact when both Bucky and I were in her presence together.  After promising to check in with her within REASON, I told her goodbye and got out of the car - grabbing my camera from the trunk and then locking the car before heading down the docks in search of inspiration for my portfolio.  

I spent the day capturing life on the docks in a small Louisiana town.  Instead of focusing on Sam and Bucky, with a dose of Sarah and her sons, I weaved through the other boats and fishermen snapping shots that caught my eye - the way the light danced off the ripples on the water or the way the men and women worked with purpose but also with a shared love of their jobs.  No one posed, even when they took notice of me snapping pictures, they simply took my presence as a normal one.  Maybe equating me with Sam’s return and Bucky’s added residency - just one more person to join their group and the camera came along for the ride.  

I was sitting on a bench going through the frames as the sun was sinking lower when I felt him join me, his shadow my first warning, but his warmth coming soon after.  

“You kept your distance today,” Bucky’s arm found a home along the back of the bench and across my shoulders, the scent of hard work and his musk invading my senses and getting the smile I’d decided was his alone to curl across my lips.  “Did you get any good shots?”  He leaned closer, our temples touching so he could see the viewer.

“I didn’t do too badly,” I offered, tilting the camera a little so he could see better.  “How about you?  Is the boat looking good enough to sell?”  I moved closer, like a moth to a flame, needing to be closer to him.  

He hummed, moving his free hand to help my immobile finger click through my pictures.  “It’s getting there.”  He paused at a picture I’d taken that had the boats out of focus, but the ripples of the water were perfectly in focus, the light capturing each ripple and you could see the fish just below.  “How do you do this?”  He sounded so impressed, like he couldn’t imagine anyone being able to do it.  

I shrugged.  “It’s the same as with the boys and the shield really.”  It was, you just had to capture the light at the right moment.  “The light has to hit at the right moment, and you have to be in the right spot.”  It wasn’t that huge of a deal, almost anyone with a camera and patience could do it.  “It does look nice.”  

“Nice,” he shook his head and turned to stare into my eyes.  “Brooke, you amaze me.”  I opened my mouth to tell him if he was shocked by this trick he should see what I could do with a color splash editing, but he didn’t give me a chance, his head dipped and his mouth met mine and anything I planned on saying died as the urge to taste him took over.  

Just like when I arrived and we first saw one another at Sarah’s house, everything else fell away and we forgot where we were and that there were other people nearby.  When Bucky touched me, when our lips met we forgot the world - but lucky for us Sam was close by and he came to our “rescue”.  With a gentle tap on Bucky’s head and a LOUD reminder that we were still on the docks, we managed to pull apart, but it was a close one.

“Y’all are going to end up in jail for indecent exposure,” Sam was smirking, dimple digging deep in one cheek.  “I swear to God, I think a few of these folks were using their cell phones to record y’all and no one wants to see that go viral.” My eyes went wide just thinking about Connie getting her eyes on that - Shit.  “Yeah, exactly.”  He shook his head, but his grin didn’t leave his face.  “Might I suggest you head back to your hotel?  You know, before someone calls the police, or the dock catches fire?”  

Bucky rolled his eyes.  “You act like no one down here ever kisses in public,” he stood up and held out his hand to help me up.  “I swear, Sam, you’re a prude.”  He shook his head.  “I expected someone from YOUR time to be more OPEN.”  He was staring at Sam like he expected better and that had me biting my lip to hold back my laughter.  

“PDA is a fine line to walk, Bucky Barnes,” Sam countered.  “A FINE line, and what y’all were doing was crossing the line into the indecent.”  Sam shook his head.  “Should head to a church and light a candle, that’s what you should be doing.”  

“You’re advising that I go to Mass?”  Bucky was staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind and I was thinking I was going to end up pissing my pants from this showdown.  “Are you even Catholic?  Are you sure I am?”  He was staring at Sam and I couldn’t look at either of them anymore, or I’d fucking die.  

“Pretty sure Brooke is,” Sam tossed out and I snorted, I couldn’t help it, it just slipped out.  “See!” Not sure how my snort was proof, even though I AM Catholic, but still.  “She is, told you.”  

“She snorted at you because you’re crazy,” Bucky sounded like he was about to call the loony bin to have Sam locked up.  “Light a candle.”  He sighed.  “We’ll light candles, alright.”  He was still holding my hand, but his fingers were sliding over my knuckles in a way that told me those candles weren’t going to be anywhere near a church.  “Candles, a nice hot bubble bath, then bed -” my stomach clenched and a few other places.  “And trust me, Sam, if we DO go to church?  The priest is gonna need to go to Mass to have someone to confess to afterward.”  

We were in the car on the way to the hotel and I was still holding back laughter and I was feeling a little - well to be honest, Bucky set a pretty high fucking bar.  It was quiet again, but I had some thoughts to be lost in.  Finally I had to let something out, so I went with the giggles from the utter insanity of it all. 

“Better?”  Bucky asked, once I let out most of the hysterical laughter I’d pent up during his and Sam’s back and forth.  I gasped myself back to some sense of calm, and nodded, but then the absurdity of what he had alluded to about what we would be getting into during our alone time started to set in and I wondered if I could even manage that level of - what the fuck was he thinking?!

“The priest is gonna need to confess after is he?”  I was fidgeting, wondering what the hell I was getting myself into with this superman?  

Bucky chuckled, pulling into the lot of our hotel, but then he realized that I wasn’t joining him and he parked and turned to me.  “Brooke?”  Seeing my fingers tugging at my shirt hem and fiddling with the seatbelt, he unbuckled it.  “What is it?”  

“That’s a pretty damn high standard, Buck.”  I bit my lip and his thumb met my teeth and traced where I was worrying the skin.  “I don’t want to disappoint.”

“Oh, doll, no.”  He shook his head and unbuckled his own seatbelt.  Pulling me to him, he held me and told me that I couldn’t disappoint him, ever.  “You are more than I deserve, more than I can ever hope to deserve.”  I was about to argue, but he stopped me.  “This is me calming you down, Brooke Ashley,” he reminded me.  And I smiled at him.  “I may have went a bit overboard in baiting Sam, but what we have - it’s more than I ever expected to ever have with anyone.”  His brow was furrowed and he was cupping my face between his hands, holding me as carefully as if I were made of glass.  “You and me, Brooke.  We could make a priest blush without trying, but if we DID try,” and that did it, I laughed, and his smile came back.  Then our lips met and all was right in our world again.  

We didn’t need the car horn to stop us this time.  We even managed to bring my camera equipment and our phones upstairs with us.  We ordered dinner and ate first.  We did have a bubble bath, a tight squeeze in that hotel bathtub let me tell you, but then - like he’d taunted Sam, we came together in the hotel bed with enough force and need to make sure that should I choose to mention it during my next confession or Bucky during his - the priest would no doubt want to have a moment with his own confessor. 

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Could you do one with one of my favorite cliche tropes ever? Jaskier and Reader got a room for the night on their journey and *dramatic pause* ....There was only one bed. (I have friends irl who are totally okay with platonic cuddling and its genuinely the best thing in the world. I wanna sleep in Jask's arms 😭)

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 2,454Rating: ETaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak a/n: The other day I was thinking about how people will be like “I mean since you like tropes…” and then give me a delicious morsel of a prompt and I actually muttered “if you think you’re getting through this blog without a ‘there’s only one bed’ fic in here somewhere you don’t know who you’re messing with” BUT YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO YOU’RE MESSING WITH DEAR READER AND I SALUTE YOU!

You were both exhausted by the time you reached the inn. The trek had taken longer than you anticipated, so long that even Jaskier went quiet, trying to conserve whatever energy he had left to focus on making it to the blessed respite of a warm bed. Jaskier went up to get your keys and when he came back and held out one you thought he must have dropped the other one and went back with him to get yours.

“We only have one room left,” the innkeeper explained.

“You know what that’s fine, it’s fine, come on Jask,” you said, waving at the innkeeper and steering your friend towards the stairs. Both of you woke up a bit when you walked into the room and found one bed.

“Oh.”

“Ah.”

The two of you stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment and then Jaskier summoned up a smile and said, “I will take the floor, honestly I could sleep just as well there as anywhere else.”

“Don’t be stupid, you’ll take the bed,” you argued.

“No, no, you really need to get some rest,” he insisted.

“Look this is crazy we’ll just… both sleep on the bed,” you said, focusing intently on the wall above Jaskier’s head instead of looking him in the eyes as you offered.

“Well… I mean… It is a big bid,” he said, suddenly fixated on the rug you both stood on. You glanced back towards each other and laughed a little nervously.

“It’s just a bed,” you said, moving to pull off your boots.

“Right, of course,” he agreed, doing the same. You both disrobed quietly after that, turning away from each other to strip down to as little as possible before blindly fumbling towards the bed and pulling the blankets back. The awkwardness was forgotten as you both sank into the mattress uttering dueling groans of relief to be off of your feet and on something softer than the hard ground. You rolled to face each other, sleepy grins on both of your faces.

“This is fine,” you say reassuringly, trying to permanently banish any lingering sense of unease.

“That is easily the least enthusiastic response someone has had to being in a bed with me but I’ll take it,” Jaskier says with a wry smile. You shake your head and laugh, grateful for the dim candlelight that hides the blush that creeps over your cheeks as you begin to think about what being in bed with Jaskier usually entails. For some people. Other people.

“Goodnight Jaskier,” you say, turning around to blow out the candle.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he says as the room goes dark and smell of smoke tinges the air.

You both nestle into the bed, shifting into your usual positions and knock into each other accidentally, Jaskier’s arm wrapping around your neck and your ass pressing up against him in a bit of a couple of off-kilter spoons. You both murmur apologies and try to laugh, the nervous tension back in the room as you both silently agree that the best way to maneuver this is to just turn your backs on each other and face the walls. You lay in total silence for five agonizing minutes. You know the sound of Jaskier when he’s sleeping, the even rhythm of his breath when he’s resting and the occasional snores he would deny to his dying breath. He knows you aren’t asleep because he can feel your foot fidgeting, a reminder of how close you are but in so many ways how still so very far.

“Are you awake?” you ask finally.

“Yes, are you”” he asks. You scoff and you can feel and hear him flip over, the blanket letting in a little burst of cold air before he wraps it back down around him.

“Why is this so hard?” Jaskier asks, his voice much closer than you anticipated, so close you can feel his breath on the back of your neck.

“Something else you usually hear from people in bed with you?” you tease.

“If they have to ask either they’re far too humble or something has gone terribly wrong,” he replies. You bite your lip, wishing you hadn’t brought it up. Or wishing I could bring it up. You groan into your pillow.

“What’s going on over there? Talk to me,” Jaskier implores, his hand gently brushing back the hair that’s fallen into your face. You finally roll back around to face him. Though it’s dark you can see the outline of his features and he yours.

“I don’t know it just feels different. Not bad but… there’s something about a bed, you know?” you ask. You can tell he’s biting back several cheeky remarks but he just nods.

“But we’ve shared spaces much smaller than this one,” he says, “I don’t disagree with you, there is… something… about a bed…”

If you could see him clearly you’d see the way his eyes have fallen to your lips, the way his fingers rise up, itching to touch them, before he pulls them back and sighs frustratedly.

“Y’know statistically speaking people spend more time sleeping in beds than… other… activities,” You say, trying desperately to find a way to logic the awkwardness out of things.

“I may be an outlier in that study,” Jaskier says.

“Well I am a big sleeper,” you say, firmly barreling past that comment and trying to pretend your heart isn’t beating a bit faster and that you can’t feel his hand resting on the bed inches from your waist.

“Oh yeah? Sleep around a lot?” Jaskier asks. These are jokes you traded in the daytime but it wasn’t the daytime anymore and his works sounded fraught with meaning that you don’t want to believe you’re imagining. The hand by your waist inches a little closer and you move into it, eager to feel him even if just his fingertips through the fabric of your nightshirt.

“Can I just – ”

“Would it be – ”

“You go first,” Jaskier says.

“No, you,” you insist.

“I was going to say can I just… hold you? If that isn’t weird?” he asks.

“No! No I mean no it won’t be weird, yes hold me,” you say, tripping over the words. He sidles up closer to you and tucks your pillow over his left arm, pulling you in to rest your head there while his body aligns with yours, his right arm wrapping around your waist and his face burrowed in your hair. You sigh contentedly, your left hand taking his right.

“What were you going to say?” he whispers, face inches from your ear.

“Oh just… going to ask for this actually,” you say. His arms tighten around you in a way that would be painful if you didn’t crave it so much. You’d been trying to keep these feelings at bay, focusing on your friendship with Jaskier, the bard who smiled for all but received few in return. The man who was a friend to everyone but had few who would call him the same. But he was also the man who made your heart twist every time he smiled at you, who listened when you were upset and held you when you cried on your worst days. And somewhere along the way friendship turned to something different, not more, that would be a disservice to the love you felt for him as a friend, but definitely different. Harder to explain and deeply dangerous.

You felt him sigh heavily, the movement shifting your closely pressed bodies.

“You alright back there?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

“Yes, more than alright. We should have done this a long time ago,” he said.

“Oh?” you asked, hoping he didn’t notice the way your voice cracked at the word.

“Yes,” he said decisively, “You’re so very…”

Your heart pounded as your brain scrambled to anticipate the word he would say next. Loveable? Cuddle-able? Fuckable?

“Touchable,” he says, his voice growing soft as he whispers the word into the crook of your neck. The hand holding his tightens and you sigh heavily, the motion causing you to wriggle a bit against him and you hear him mutter “fuck” under his breath as you do.

“You ok?” you ask.

“Mmhmm,” he says, terribly unconvincingly. He’s pulling away a bit more, shifting awkwardly and you contrarily back up closer, eager to keep the cuddle going if that’s all you can have with him. When you press back up against him you can feel something new and Jaskier’s breath catches in his throat.

“Oh,” you breath.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier murmurs, “You’re just so close and so soft and so you and… fuck.”

You wrapped your leg around his, leverage as you grind against him closer.

“What was that you were saying?” you ask. His hand lowers and grips the ass that’s planted right in his lap.

“You know what you’re doing,” he says accusatorily.

“I do. But what are you going to do about it?” you ask. You crane your neck to meet his eyes, close enough you can see the vibrant blue. Your lips are parted slightly in anticipation and you see Jaskier’s eyes fall to them mere seconds before he presses his against them, a kiss neither of you expected yet both of you had been waiting for far longer than you knew. His hand cups your face, and you turn your body to face him, giving you both greater access to each other’s bodies. He wraps both long legs around yours, using his whole body to touch every part of you can he reach. His hands snake up your thigh, up the opening of your nightdress to touch the soft skin of your waist, pawing at you with little grace and even less inhibition.

“Been wanting to do this for so long,” he says, the words coming out in gasps as he explores the sensitive skin on your collar bones and around your neck. You run your hands over his arms, enjoying the new parts of him to learn like the dip on his shoulder blade where muscle meets bone and the telltale goosebumps that follow in the wake of your touch. He crawls over you and you love the weight of him. He’s heavier than you expected but you can tell he’s trying to support some of his weight on the arm that grips the headboard. His mouth travels further, tracing the sensitive flesh of your breasts with his skillful tongue that elicits soft sighs and hitched gasps from your throat. You reach beneath him as he focuses on lavishing attention on you and wrap your hand around his cock. The mouth encircling your nipple bites down in surprise and you yelp, a strangled sound that is equal parts pleasure and surprise. He looks up at you and his expression sends a thrill of adrenaline through you. The more he touches you the hungrier he seems to get and you want nothing more than to sate his hunger in any way you can. Your grip tightens and but his moans are muffled as he keeps exploring your body with his mouth until he’s pulled far enough away that you can no longer touch him. He rests on his elbows, lifting up your thighs and pulling you in close. He looks up at you and you try to commit the sight of him between your legs to memory, wondering ever so briefly how much it would cost to commission a portrait of it when he slides a finger up the length of your slit, parting you with nimbly fingers. His fingers are quickly replaced with his tongue, his fingers digging into your thighs possessively to hold you still as you writhe beneath him. One hand tangles in his hair as the other grips the sheets on the bed, trying to anchor yourself. He’s merciless as he teases and provokes you, refusing to give pause long enough for you to catch your breath. He drives your first orgasm out of you with his mouth, the next with his fingers, determined to use every tool at his disposal in the pursuit of your pleasure. He slides back up the length of your body, kissing his way back up til his mouth meets yours again, his face damp and reddened and grinning with satisfaction but still hungry, your insatiable Jaskier.

“Hey,” he whispers, nudging your nose with his playfully.

“Hey,” you whisper back, brushing your lips against his still-smiling lips in the whisper of a kiss.

“I’m going to fuck you very hard and quicker than I’d like because I am very tired but I would never forgive myself if I fell sleep before I could feel your sweet, wet cunt wrapped around my cock. If you want,” he adds the last part casually as though his words don’t already have you trying to lift your body to meet his.

“I need to hear you say that you want it,” he says when you don’t say anything, distracted by the soft kisses he brushes against your lips.

“I want you,” you say, the words too small to contain the truth they hold, “I want you, Jaskier.”

He kisses you again, slower and deeper until he’s stolen your breath and then you feel him enter you, slowly though you can feel him tremble slightly as he tries to force himself to move cautiously to ensure he doesn’t hurt you. Once he’s buried himself fully in you, his face resting against your chest, his breathing labored and your hands gently stroking his hair. It’s a peaceful moment and then he draws himself back up, placing one hand on the headboard and the other on your shoulder, looking at you adoringly as he draws out of you slowly and thrusts back in so hard the bed shakes. He watches your face for signs of discomfort and you arch your back up against him, eager for more. He takes the cue, the eternal musician, and he fucks you harder, your moans collapsing into breathless gasps. You can’t tell if the words he says, beautiful and soft uttered through gritted teeth, are filthy or fawning but the sound of his voice is your undoing as it always has been, as you always knew it would be. He comes with your name on his lips and it is the sweetest song he’s ever sung.

You curl up together, sweaty and giggling, Jaskier’s mouth still kissing any patch of skin that comes near enough; your shoulder as you pull the blankets over him, your neck as you shift your hair out of the way, and you fall asleep wrapped around each other.

[reeesea]

Something Sweet: Part Seven

~sweet home~

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

pairing: minsung, han jisung/lee minho

warning: mild language

words: 4.7k

summary:  Home is where your bros at right? right.

a/n: I actually like this chapter, shocker. i hope you enjoy 

ao3

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

Minho stared at the video file sitting on his computer, on the familiar application site that had been haunting his mind for the past couple years. The debate he found himself in with himself on whether or not to submit another application, had become his default subject of thought for much of the past few weeks. All building up to right now. Something had tipped the scale though. Something that reminded him if he didn't submit an entry this year, that he might as well have given up on his one dream. His one goal. The only thing that had been keeping him motivated through university. So once again he found himself rationalizing, and knew that if anything he had to try, at least just one last time. 

Upload complete, Thank you for your entry!

Minho sighed loudly. He had sent it in. The first part of the application. It was just a basic dance routine supplied by the academy. He had practice and recorded it all within one sitting. Having been a part of a dance crew for much of the past year had allowed him to quickly pick up choreography and perfect it. The other reason being that he wanted more than anything to get the overbearing presence of the audition tape out of his head space as soon as possible. A heavy sigh left his lips as he laid back down on the studio floor, not too long after a ping of his phone revived just enough for him to check his messages.

[Rich Boy Han Jisung]

2:50 pm

Minho-hyung!

I hope your day has been going well~

Sadly, no updates on when ill be free :/ 

They’re working us hard for the debut

It’s alright Ji, work hard!

You better be taking care of yourself tho...

4:03 pm (new)

Have you heard this song? Made me think of you :)

{link attached}

I hope you like it!!!!

Oh, no i havent

I’ll give it a listen ^-^

As of late it wasn’t uncommon for Jisung to send the older songs he thought he would like. Always saying some cheesy line that was so blatantly sweet it made Minho flustered everytime. This time of course was no exception. 

Ping.

HYUNG THAT EMOJI

Asjdnjsfma

I knew I was rubbin goffon you 

Kkkkk

Dont get too ahead of yourself 

atleast I can still type coherent sentences

~goffon~ 

Boo :p

Why Jisung was so persistent about sending him songs was lost on the older, but it was a sweet reminder that someone was thinking about him. It had been a while since Minho had even imagined that someone took a few minutes of their day to actually consider how he was doing. It didn't quite make sense to him that suddenly out of nowhere, there was his boy, man, person, who purposefully took the time to dedicate brain cells to his existence. Wild. 

Minho hurriedly clicked the link to the song that Jisung had sent. It was an upbeat song, with a strong but subtle strumming of a guitar to keep the song’s pace just quick enough to be comfortable. “There's no one else that could ever hold me like you do.” The lyrics were in the realm of positive longing and companionship, but the dips into minor chords and tone of the singer created a mood of desperation. More than anything, the song brought forth a story to Minho. One that he could see with his eyes close and feel his body wanting to move to. 

A smile stretched across his face, as he rose from his spot on the floor, dusting off the dull ache and pressure in his shoulders from having just finished a routine not even 10 minutes ago. 

“But I know that I'd be crazy, Not to wanna be the one to keep you up all night”

Woah there Jisung, at least take me out to dinner first. He made a mental note to tease the younger later about his “Made me think of you :)” line later. Already stretching and drawing a plan in his head, Minho took his phone and saved the song, pressing the repeat button twice, to allow the guitar chords and chorus harmonies to carry on endlessly. A smirk stretched into an excited smile. Not wanting to jinx himself, a shy “finally” was whispered in the back of Minho’s mind at the surge of inspiration, but not spoken aloud just yet.

---

Flashing lights, heavy makeup, hot clothing, and too much fog from the smoke machine is all Jisung had thought about for the last couple hours. 3RAHCHA was in their last photo shoot for their debut. The concept photos would be released later through the week, slowly revealing the three members and their group as officially signed with JJP ent. 

The multicolor lights had been running through his vision for so long that as soon as he walked into their Green Room, he had almost forgotten what color everything actually was. Looking in the mirror he saw the blonde highlighted streaks in his hair had settled nicely, slightly slicked back. The stylist had surely done their jobs well. Painting the three rappers up to look less like the nightcrawlers they were, and into something that leather and fishnet clad superstars might look like was definitely a challenge. Jisung had his makeup done just enough to give his eyes a smoky look to them, and grey contacts to emphasize his gaze. The ensemble he had on looked like something that had come straight from a catwalk. Fishnets crawling up his arms from his gloved hands and an asymmetrical shit he for sure would not have been able to put on without the help of his stylist-noona. All that plus some leather pants and combat boots, he definitely looked more like his persona J.One than the notorious hoodie clad couch potato named Jisung he usually found himself as. 

Having just finished his own solo shoot, he signaled Changbin to head on to the set as he returned. The older nodded from his chair in front of the makeup station, as the artist finished the final touches to his eyeliner. Jisung watched as the shorter rapper walked out to the set in a white puffer jacket that he somehow pulled off, even with the bright red pants he wore. A part of Jisung was thankful his stylist hadn’t taken that many liberties with his outfit, but the makeup and outfit Changbin wore really only emphasized his intimidating stare and the wideness of his shoulders. It was undeniable that their concept photos would come out well. 

Chan, who was seated on a couch, eating some of the provided sandwiches, was already hunched over his computer and mixing equipment again, airpods in. Probably working on tracks for their third comeback knowing him. Not wanting to jump right back into work Jisung snagged a few snacks from the buffet and found a chair he could lay on. Listening to music that wasn't work had become a rarity for Jisung in the years he had been with 3RACHA. Of course he always tried to stay on top of the recent pop and hip hop trends, but straying any farther than his trusty morning and workout playlists was more than unlikely. 

Lately though, Jisung found himself looking through a lot of random indie, alternative, “western” pop, and especially dance music. The versatility of the genres was comforting to Jisung in the rather turbulent state his emotions and mental state have been in, as the debut approached. Also Minho. Meeting Minho definitely had introduced a whole new set of feelings Jisung was still working on navigating. As he listened to the different songs that populated this radio, he told himself he was just looking for some inspiration for his lyrics and 3RACHA’s new music, but even he knew that was mostly a lie. 

Ever since that night at the bar with Minho he found himself always considering the older and what he would think of a song or how he would dance to it, or if he would even like it. After pointing out that he liked a particularly upbeat pop song with melancholic lyrics, during their impromptu karaoke session, Jisung had been delvinging into all related categories to find songs he thought the older might enjoy. He wanted more than anything to inspire his older companion? Partner? (that was a later Jisung question.) but he wanted to repay the man who had allowed him to get out of his creative slump. That night, as soon as the youngest rapper had returned to the 3RACHA “house” he felt the start of at least 5 separate tracks and choruses appear in his brain. His two hyungs jumped into action along with him as Jisung desperately tried to write and record everything that was jumping out of his brain at once. 

Jisung remembered Chan’s smile and encouraging words as he fitted a few of his new verses to songs they had previously put on the shelf. After finding a particularly emotional but upbeat song he immediately wanted to send it to Minho. He always got hung up on what to say with the link. Other than the thought vomit that occurred every time he chooses to send him a potentially good song: “Found this song? U Like???” No Jisung, what are you five?? “I think you will enjoy this song. Please give it a listen? :0” No that just sounds desperate. 

“You doing alright there Ji, I can hear you sighing through my earbuds?” Chan peeked out from under his styled bangs with a raised eyebrow, sending Jisung into a red embarrassed mess that he had been caught. He hoped his layers of foundation would cover it up. 

“Yeah fine fine, don't worry. I’m FINE.” Attempting to hide Jisung curled up tighter into his arm chair. Just be casual Jisung it's a song not a marriage proposal dear god. “Have you heard this song? Made me think of you :)” Good, yes fine. Send.

Minho responded immediately and cutely with an emoji that made his heart jump a little. Minho would respond always with a variation of a “Thanks! I’ll go listen”, but Jisung had yet to receive any confirmation that the older actually enjoyed the links he sent, much less had found some inspiration in them. At this point the only thing he could do was hope. He wanted nothing more than Minho to be smiling because of him.

--

Officially exhausted, it wasn’t until late when the 3RACHA boys had finally made it back to their apartment. The day Jisung had, had been anything but short. Almost collapsing immediately on the couch. Sana notified them that she had already ordered food to be delivered for dinner and that they should go to bed as soon as they had finished eating. Chan looked like he was about to pass out on the couch before the food even arrived, which was more than likely at this point. After their shoot they were immediately sent to a few other meetings laying out their marketing and schedule plans for the upcoming weeks. Although glad they were able to part with their artistic and career decisions with their company, it did add a lot of work and responsibilities to the trio. 

Jisung’s phone had died somewhere after meeting 3 of 5 and he had submitted to having to carry the lifeless brick with him anyway. Not ideal for his wandering mind and anxiety that comes with a few too many stressful meetings. Once finally arriving home he went and plugged his phone in at the charger on the kitchen counter. Lighting up with notification buzzes as it rebooted back to life. 

[ 5 new messages from Lee Minho hyungie]

Immediately cursing himself internally for not bringing his charger with him, he opened his messages from Minho ignoring all others. 

[Lee Minho hyungie]

5:45 pm

Hey Jisungie, just finished up practice!

Actually may or may not have danced to the song u sent…

Maybe I’ll show you some day hehehehehehehehe ;)

7:21 pm

Han Jisung, did you forget your charger again >:/ 

Well I’m off to my late shift, I hope you have a good night~

Jisung always found himself smiling at Minho’s before work texts. They were always so cute. Either some sort of sweet well wishing or some other Minho-esque goodbye, along the lines of “don’t die mysteriously while i'm gone ;p” or “Have a good night, try not to miss my WONDERFUL company too much <3”. (The hearts always made Jisung grin hard, even if they were sarcastic)

This night though, Jisung found him almost jumping in victory at Minho’s text. 

[Lee Minho hyungie]

12:35 am

YOU DANCED TO THE SONG

Really?!?!?!

What did you like about it? 

When can I see????

You better not leave me on read after work!

Jisung tried to imagine what kind of dance Minho would do to the track he sent,and suddenly found himself flush at the thought of watching the other dance. Somehow, watching Minho dance, felt more intimate than any other situation that they’ve shared. Thankfully Minho seemed to want to hold off, so at least of the time being Jisung’s heart was safe. The exhaustion and stress from the day faded ever so slightly as soon as he thought of Minho with coordinating blush to match. 

Jisung you lovestruck fool.

“Jisung! Food’s here!!! If you don't hurry Chan’ll eat your portion again.”

“HEY! It was one time.” Laughter filled the apartment gently as they all respectively fought gravity to get up and make their way to collect the food from the delivery man.  

---

Minho tore up the stairs and through their apartment door as quickly as he could without spilling the carry out food he had in his arms. The clock was ticking a little past midnight and fear set in that the older would miss their planned celebrations. 

Bursting through the door, “Did I beat him?!” The oldest was frazzled from rushing in order to beat their third roommate home from work.

“Barely! I was afraid you wouldn’t make it, with having to bring the carry out.” Hyunjin’s sigh of relief was visible throughout the boy's now relaxed body. He had spent the last ten minutes hoping that they would still be able to pull off their surprise party for the youngest. Pacing around and failing to come up with any backup plans if Minho had been later than Felix. Thankfully for them both, Minho had a way of always being on time. 

“Hey all that matters is I made it. Is everything else ready?” Looking around Minho could see that Hyunjin’s bed was transitioned back into the couch setting and that the floors had been tidied up. A couple stray balloons littered the floor as well as a home made “happy birthday felix” sign hung from their living room screen divider. 

“Yep, I've just been waiting anxiously for you to get home for the past half hour.”

The door handle of their apartment began to jiggle, signaling the two boys to spring into action. Minho setting down the carry out, and Hyunjin frantically lights candles on the small cake on the coffee table. The door swung open, revealing a disheveled after-work Felix wandering through the door. As soon as the boy turned toward their living room, he was accosted with shouts and the flailing limbs of his hyungs. 

“Surprise!!!” “Happy Birthday!!!” 

Felix’s smile erased any of the signs of exhaustion off his face immediately as soon as he spotted his hyungs excited expressions. The cake, the streamers, the balloons, and sign all sparked some joyful tearing of his eyes as he set down his things and made his way to the small cake with a few random lit candles on top. The clock had crossed over into the next day as Felix had made his way home, that he had almost forgotten that it was now technically the early morning hours of his birthday. Coming home to joyful cheers instead of their usual exhausted silence had given him a certain happiness that he hadn’t realized he was missing. 

For all of three of the roommates this was their first time having a celebration in their small home together. By now the sense of home was undeniable and without realizing it all of them had begun to consider each other and their shared 3 room apartment, home. 

The disjointed singing of happy birthday followed by the laughter and conversation surrounded their coffee table as the three enjoyed their small carryout feast and cake. The warmth that their company gave each other lasted well into the night.

“Hyung! It's my birthday, stop eating all the cake!!!” 

“I have no idea what youre talking about Lixie.” Minho says while actively taking another bite of their 2 person sized cake. 

“Hyung!” The laughter of the oldest filled the room followed by the other two’s not too long after.

“Happy Birthday Lixie~” The smile hadn’t left the freckled boys faces since he had sat down, and remained as he pulled his two roommates into a forceful hug. It was his birthday so the boys both submitted to the clingy nature of their third roommate, as always.

---

It was late into the early morning by the time Minho had checked his phone. 

[ 5 new messages from Rich Boy Han Jisung]

A soft pang of guilt hits his chest after reading the younger’s texts and realizing that he did in fact leave the other on read for the better part of the last two hours.  

2:43 am 

I’m so sorry Sungie!

We were celebrating Felix’s birthday, and I didnt check my phone…. 

Look at the cute cake we got him!

{photo attached}

Minho sent the selfie of the three of them with Felix’s cake, if anything just to lessen the guilt in his chest. Hoping that the cuteness of Felix’s smile would be enough to forgive him for low key ghosting him for a few hours. Minho knows that on the days Jisung has the most schedules are the hardest for him mentally, and he always tries his best to be there for him and send him a message or two to lessen the load on those nights. The fact that he hadn’t been there tonight filled him with some worry. A part of him hoped that the younger would’ve been asleep by now but their late night track record did not exactly support that. 

---

Jisung had been lying painfully awake in his bed for an hour when he heard the buzz of his phone. Slightly upset with his body for not giving into the exhaustion he had gathered from the day, and just letting him sleep, he turned to the side table to check the messages. Awake fully ,but only mentally half conscious, he read through his messages:

Minho. Oh, yay, it's Minho.

Felix’s Birthday. Oh right he had mentioned that coming up.

Cute cake. Aw that cake is really cute… wait. 

Birthday.

I have one of those, around this time to- 

I missed my birthday. I forgot my birthday. Everyone forgot.

The cute picture Minho had sent was so filled with happiness that Jisung almost let the pain slide and pass the moment by. But something just didn't feel right in letting himself forget his own birthday. The fact that the others hadn’t remembered didn’t bother him too much. Chan, Changbin, they were all busy with schedules and he can't blame them. Especially since he, himself had forgotten. No birthday text from his family either. Unsurprising though since he rarely got in contact with them since moving to Korea in high school. He forgot though. 

He wasn’t quite sure why this was bothering him so much. Some people don't even celebrate their birthday, or remember how old they are, but Jisung had always prided himself on never letting his work take over entirely who he was. To exhausted-Jisung, he couldn’t help but feel like this was one step toward losing the grip on who he was, and that was in itself, terrifying. 

The coldness of his bed and the dark expanse of his room seemed to only perpetuate the way Jisung felt. Floating, alone, lost. His insecurity was starting to come into focus, and no wonder it had been keeping him up. He had been spiraling for days probably, without even knowing it. The buzz of his phone lit up his face, snapping him out of his own thoughts for a moment. 

[Lee Minho hyungie]

2:50 pm 

You okay Jisung? 

I hope I didn't wake you

Jisung noticed that the app had revealed that he had read the messages and was indeed awake. Unfortunately, exhausted-and--spirling-Jisung was the only one present enough to send a response. Hopefully Minho wouldn’t mind him too much. 

You didn’t wake me, was already up :/ 

It looks really fun hyung

I just realized something too

My birthday was yesterday

I forgot it

Jisung found himself fighting the watering of his eyes as he sent those messages. Why was he crying? He just forgot, he was busy. It was okay. Right? The tears seemed to only cloud his vision more, blocking him from reading the messages from Minho that were buzzing and populating the screen. Not bothering to wipe his eyes, he let them blurr.

Wh- do you- mea- ???

Jis--ng ar- y-- ok--?

I-- sorry i- di-nt -----

---- wa-t --- ca-l?

--sung?

A few moments passed, without him realizing it, as his phone buzzed some more, screen changing to the incoming call screen. Sucking up his tears and drying his damp screen, it took a few tries before answering the call.

---

“Jisung!?” Jisung nearly flinched, just nearly. 

“Hi hyung, How was work?” hoping to cover up his tears by changing the subject. Jisung thought it was a pretty good attempt.

“How wa- what, no. Jisung are you okay?” There it was again. The undeniable worry in Minho’s voice. Ow. 

“Yeah I’m okay.” Despite Jisung’s efforts it was obvious to Minho that the other had in fact been crying. Not wanting to push the younger though, he allowed him to change the subject

“.... okay, I just want to check in on you. I worry you know, Sung!” 

“About me? that's silly hyung.” The distance in his tone replaced Jisung’s usual brightness, and it hurt Minho to hear it. 

“I don't think so. How am I to know what my favorite customer is up to? You may be a soon to be rap star but that doesn’t keep you from ignoring your hyung.” Even though Jisung giggled at that, the irony of the statement wasn’t lost on Minho. A wave of guilt washed over his chest as soon as he said it. 

“I am sorry though. For not answering sooner and everything.” 

And for reminding you of your birthday, and making you cry, and not being there to make you smile.

“No don’t be sorry! That’ll only make me feel worse for bothering you… I think the exhaustion was just making me delirious, I haven't been sleeping well these past few nights.” Minho had to fight his initial protective instincts that told him to scold the younger for not taking care of himself, because a part of him knew that the younger was certainly trying his best to do so. 

“Well if you can’t sleep ever, just call me okay? I’m usually up from my shifts anyway. Plus if I'm not up surely one of my roommates is. Felix will probably never let go of you once he finds your birthday brothers." Hearing Minho's laugh lightened the tight pressure that Jisung hadn't realized had been settled in his chest.

"Okay hyung, i'd like that I think."

"You better. My time rarely comes free, and this is a limited time offer." Jisung’s laugh is a little bit more enthusiastic this time. 

“Of course hyung.” A silence came over them for a moment. Not an awkward one, more of a point of realization and relief. Like the feeling after having a good cry, in Jisung’s case. 

“Happy belated birthday Jisung.” 

“Thanks hyung… Did you have a fun time with Felix?” 

“Yeah! It was actually a lot of fun. Just some carry out and cake after work, but it was good to relax with them. We don't always have free time together, and haven’t had the chance to celebrate anything until now. Hyunnie luckily found a cake on sale at the mart today, sparking this whole thing.” 

Minho remembered the frantic call from the younger as he delved into his plans for giving Felix the “perfect surprise birthday celebration” because he had “found the perfect cake to match Felix’s cuteness.” It was on sale. Also because “Come on Min-hyung Felix would absolutely do the same for us.” Explaining the situation to Jisung really did solidify the fact that Minho knew Felix, would in fact, plan some adorable birthday celebration for the older two if given the opportunity. 

“What would you guys have done if he hadn't found the cake?”

“I’m not sure maybe it would’ve just been a carry-out celebration.”

“Still sounds really nice hyungie. You and your roommates seem so close.” 

“I suppose shared rent does that to people.” Minho laughed it off but he had begun to cherish the brotherly bond that had grown between his roommates. 

Not having ever considered it before, the fact that the roommates were only able to buy a cake because it happened to be on sale, revealed to Jisung that their financial situations may have been farther apart than he realized. Money had never been a barrier that Jisung had to face, always having family (or honestly Changbin) help pay for his living and pursuit of his dreams. Sure he’s had part time jobs in the past but he never found himself worrying about not making enough each month. Not going to university definitely was a large factor in maintaining his “affordable” lifestyle.

“It's nice you do things for each other. I can't remember the last time my hyungs and I have done something together that didn't have to do with our music.” Jisung started to feel some sort of jealousy at the closeness that Minho and his roommate had found in each other. Financial guilt and emotional jealousy are a strange combination for a half conscious Jisung to say the least. 

“Are those fools not taking care of my Sung properly? Illegal, tell them to call me I have to yell at them too. They better not be working you too hard.” 

‘My Sung’ Jisung almost choked. Almost. 

“Nonono Hyung! They take care of me fine, we're all just exhausted with work.”

“Hmmmm okay they get a pass this time, but please relay my threat.”

“Okay okay I will.” 

“You should probably get some rest soon. You're busy tomorrow right?” 

Jisung yawned in response, which was enough convincing for Minho that he needed to rest. 

“Okay looks like it's sleepy time for hardworking Jisung~”

“Wait hyung!” Jisung wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet, even though his body was actively fighting him.

“Yes belated birthday boy?”

“Thank you for not letting me be a sad gremlin all night. It would've been nice to have spent my birthday with you, but you still made me feel better.”

The musings of sleepy Jisung were just about enough to let the fondness burst from Minho’s chest. As much as he continues to hide it, the fondness still seeps into his voice, “Of course, Jisung we always have next year.” A promise he wasn’t sure he could keep but Jisung always made him want to try new things. 

“Next year?” The sleepiness had definitely taken over, making his voice much softer than his usual bright edge. 

“Yes next year... Goodnight Sungie, call me back if you can't sleep okay.”

“Mmkay, G’night hyungie.” Already half asleep by the time he hung up, Minho was glad that the younger was finally able to rest. Glancing at his roommates huddled together on the couch already drifting off, Minho accepted that it was his turn to finally rest knowing that all his younger companions were all safely sleeping. Hyung instincts he supposes.

-----

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

[redbirdbella]

@clintasha-week advent calendar day 25 - holidays

No hate against quiet celebrations of christmas i just really want to write a found family fic. My last advent calendar day!!! 

The Invitation arrives mid-November.

You are cordially invited to Morgan Starks first Christmas. The 23rd to the 27th of December.

Great. Just great. It's a little too early for Christmas but either Peppers excellent organisational skills or Tony's excitement had got the better of one of them. She should reply, she really should, she loves her little goddaughter. But Christmas has always been a quiet affair, a lazy day between her and Clint. One where she didn't have to walk around with her guards up, ready for anything. She pins the invitation to her notice board and mentally makes a note to reply, once she's made a decision.

Then HYDRA rears their ugly head and Christmas becomes more of an afterthought. Its Clint who gives her the nudge she needs.

"So what's the plan for Christmas?"

Natasha shrugs "It's Morgan's first Christmas"

"Yeah, I know. That normally happens once someone's had a baby"

"I'd like to be there"

"Yeah?" Clint asks smile rising to his cheeks, "Pepper says it's just going to be low key. Just the Avengers, Bucky, Rhodey, Happy and Peter and his Aunt. We can bring Lucky. Leave early if it gets too much"

Natasha nods. That sounded - tolerable. "At least I won't have to cook"

It sounded simple. Just RSVP but nothing could ever be simple for Tony. There's even a freaking timetable for her to agree too.

They should arrive anytime on the 23rd but preferably in time for the adults-only party in the evening. The words PETER CAN ATTEND BUT WILL NOT BE SERVED ALCOHOL have been written in pen underneath. The 24th involves baking and board games and carol singing and a visit from Santa followed by a child-friendly fancy dress party in the evening. The 25th is Christmas. Presents encouraged, Pyjamas only. The 26th is an open house with exclusive invitations to those Tony deems worthy of paying homage to his baby daughter. She knows that Hills been invited so that'll be - nice.

They receive time off from SHIELD starting the 16th so there's a rush to get presents (I mean what do you get a billionaire and an 8-month-old?!) acceptable pyjamas and a fancy dress costume. Clint decides they should be pirates so he can master the eye patch ready to take over from Fury. Natasha leaves that to Clint using the time to buy her archer a few presents. A new lead for Lucky and a Tourist's guide to Budapest amongst other things. She spoils Morgan into a state of rotten worse than the back of Clint's fridge but it's worth it or it will be.

It's already by the 23rd. Just. She'd be lying if she wasn't still wrapping presents under Lucky's supervision in the back of the quin jet on the way over to Tony's Minnesota mansion. The sun is dipping as they arrive exchanging hugs and a quick squeeze with Morgan before she needs to go to bed. She's surprised to find she doesn't hate it. They give them space to settle into their rooms. Separate accommodation had been provided, but one instantly becomes a luggage storage facility. No one comments. It's nice even when Jarvis directs them down to the Outside barn for the party. It's smart casual, laid back and lit up with fairy lights and a moderate Tree in pride of place. Like someone had put real thought and care into who and what they were doing. Theirs an ice sculpture that's giving out some sort of non-alcoholic punch. A pool table, air hockey table and various amusements but it's the target practice area built into the corner with various weapons from axes to darts that they make a beeline too. Clint quickly claiming the bow. It's a nice icebreaker. Bucky and Clint hit it off occupying two of the lanes showing off to no one but each other, leaving Natasha and Steve to talk.

"Your Clint is good isn't he- there's not much between them. Your Clint. My Bucky" he's had a little to drink but Natasha doesn't care. They've earn't this.

"He's not my boyfriend"

"I know. You're just sweet on him and he's sweet on you. It's nice to see you both happy" Steve says knowingly.

That just about sums it up. She's sweet on him -for him. Just about him.

"Yeah, I'm just sweet on him" she nods.

"Good. Think he's got a fan" he says tipping his bottle towards the young Spiderman who Clint greets warmly.

Natasha smiles downing the rest of her drink in one "Ever thrown an axe before Cap?"

Slowly the numbers in the building rise until everyone's arrived and it's - nice. Really nice. Just a relaxed evening with people she considers friends. She doesn't think once about home or switch to the 5D chess or Machiavellian mind games. They all call it a night at 2 am for fear of waking Morgan but Tony assures them the Barn will be open to use thorough out the stay. Perfect.

Lucky wakes them early the next morning. Too early. but he still manages to drag them on a walk exploring the gardens of the house. It's beautiful even as the snow starts to fall driving Lucky crazy. Clint holds her hand once the mansions out if view. "Need to keep them warm or Morgan will scream the place down when hold her"

They walk until the winter sun rises enough to melt the snow clouds and return to the house Jarvis greeting them upon arrival. Apparently most of the house were in the kitchen baking- or at least attempting to. Only Rhodey seemed to be busy with a few saucepans. The pantry is well stocked though and Steves happy enough to try his hand at gingerbread to escape Bucky and Sam's endless bickering. Natashas just happy to hold the sleeping Morgan, Lucky laying on her lap as Pepper gives Clint the pantry tour. She can't escape the nagging worry that she's not worrying enough until Morgan wakes and stares longingly at the next Christmas tree of the Starks small forest. She gives her a tour and gets roped into help Clint with cookies when Morgan gets hungry and Clint forgets the correct conversion rate between metric and imperial. They're good though melting into her mouth as Clint offers her out a bite. She can feel eyes on them but she doesn't care. They don't care, she reasons or they'd have commented when they'd disappeared into the same bedroom the night before. The afternoon starts as planned with boardgames but quickly dissolves into chaos once it becomes clear that playing trivial pursuit with 3 geniuses, two people with somewhat blank memories of the past 60 years and a Norse god will simply end in tears. It moves to charades which Clint cheats at using ASL to end his torturous turns as soon as possible. Peter soon figures that out causing them to move swiftly onto Jenga the ultimate superhero lever. The games are long drawn out competitive things. It's taken more seriously than most of their missions Natasha notes with a grin. She melts into Steve's arms letting her whisper trash talk into her ear, maybe he's more fun than he first appears. It lasts until Morgan decides it shouldn't screeching and whimpering and demanding a nap. Ruining the quiet calm required for competitive Jenga. Slowly the party breaks away, Tony reminding them of the carols and Santa's visit promised later. Natasha promises to come only to see Morgan's reaction Clint had a $50 bet she'd cry at the sight of the new Intruder, presents be dammed. He's unfortunately right and it takes her through half of the carols (and some of those own songs that mention too much war to be specifically Yuletide) to settle into Pepper's arms before doing the tour of all her Uncles and Aunty's. She coos at Natasha obviously complaints about the new red intruder, but one tickle under her chin and she bursts into giggles.

"Your a natural" Pepper says with a smile, "Obviously her favourite"

Natasha savours the cuddles for a little longer before handing her back carefully removing her little hands from her curls.

"Thank you, Natalie, we are going to have a little nap ahead of the party tonight. Starts at seven. Back here, it's too cold for this little one in the barn. She'll want to see all the costumes hopefully you'll be much happier when it's all your friends dressed up, huh, baby" Pepper coos.

She whisks the little one away before the tears can flow once again leaving Natasha to care for her own needy creature who is just desperate for a walk.

Clint has laid out their costumes on the bed. The costumes are beautiful, Clints has a definite focus on his arms sleeved cut enough to draw attention to each muscle. The swords are surprisingly substantial.

"Mine from the circus"

"A pirate in the circus?!"

"A swordsman in a circus?"

He grins "exactly would you like to learn?"

She smiles picking one up and testing its weight. "I think I can figure it out. Most weapons are fairly intuitive"

"Ready then? Let's see if you can figure it out"

He meets her sword swinging it gently into hers. She grins and meets it using the motion to try and push him off balance. It's ineffective so he capitalises using the swing in her weight to knock her backwards on to the bed but he's too confident in knocking her down leaning too far forward that it would be rude not to bring him down with her.

"Hey" he grins, not exactly disappointed by his new position.

"Hi" She whispers standing up before the blush can rise to her cheeks "You'll have to bring these to SHIELD one day. Give me a proper lesson."

Clint agrees completing a quick change into his pirate costume. Natasha isn't one for fantasy but she can make one exception letting her mind wander.

"Your turn?" He says before putting on his boots.

She doesn't even need to question the sizing if anyone's Natashas body it's him. She changes quickly staring at her self in the mirror. What would madam say at this act of childishness dressing up for a child barely able to comprehend their presence let alone who they are dressing up as. Whatever she would say it doesn't matter Clint wraps his arms around her waist.

"This has been surprisingly Ok. Christmas with the family"

Natasha leans back into his arms "It's complicated, but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else"

"Welcome to Christmas" he laughs, "now I just need to get the mutt ready, You wanna be a pirate bud?"

Lucky complains about the pirate flag neckerchief until the fuss arrives at the party. Steve and Bucky and Sam have dressed in 1940s attire. Bruce in his lab coat and goggles. Thor surprisingly as a firefighter though Natasha isn't sure how he learnt about them but she's sure it's a long story. Rhodey as a member of top gun. Peter is some sort of star wars character Clint recognises on sight though the teenager seems more distracted by his Aunt and Happys couples costume. Tony and Pepper are attendees of Jurassic park the two scientists that become a couple if Natasha remembers the films. Morgan dressed in a dinosaur all in one.

"Oh, you are terrifying" Natasha coos offering her arms out for the little girl. She chirps and delightedly reaching for her hat.

Pepper hands her across returning to grown-up conversation with May and Happy.

Natasha let's her hold the hat bringing her to the sofa and to Lucky's waiting nose.

"Does she smell like dinosaur" Natasha coos letting Morgan pat at Lucky's ears. She manages to keep a hold of her goddaughter for most of the night but she has a curiosity for hats swapping quickly to gain a small collection. She falls asleep playing with Clint's buttons and that draws to a sudden close. Tony smiles that new smile he's developed just for his daughter and takes her into his arms.

"Jarvis will drop off breakfast in bed tomorrow if required. Presents opening at 10.30"

The rest of the evening is a timeless blur of a short walk for Lucky, Warm showers and bed before waking up in Clint's arms as Lucky nudges her arms. Apparently jet lag is harder to adapt to when you're a Canine.

"Merry Christmas Lucks" She whispers brushing her fingers through his hair. They're walking fifteen minutes later holding hands today simply out of habit. They discuss gifts and tell stories until they can no longer feel their fingers when they get back no matter how hard Clint holds her. The ice melts away as they eat breakfast, warm Pastries on a platter left by Jarvis dressed in her new pyjamas. It's a new sort of intimacy. Childlike and raw but it's not awkward. Not like she fears.

They give presents amongst friends when 10.30 rolls around. It's tolerable everyone opening presents at once no one needing to explain or pretend. She needs to work on her pretending, she decides as she opens present after present and finds herself liking most of the presents. It's easy to slip under the radar and just enjoy opening presents or watching others open they're own. Well, that is until Clint opens his tourist guide to Budapest his pointed look puncturing the mood until everyone's quiet.

"I know you've been meaning to visit," Natasha says with a grin.

"Yes, I've been told Budapest is very beautiful at Christmas time" Clint returns flicking through the book.

"Well?" Sam asks "is that it?"

"Thank you Natasha," Clint says with a nod when he reaches the back page.

"Fine keep your secrets" Sam mutter's returning to his own pile.

They settle in for Lunch and then nap in front of the fireplace after the queen's speech. Tony had indicated a childhood tradition enforced by his butler. She holds Morgan as they doze pulling the little one in close.

"So this is Christmas huh?"

[dcbbw]

Sneak Peek Sunday (8-23-2020)

I know for certain I was tagged by @sophie-and-shizuku​, and I think I may have been tagged by @bebepac​. Honestly, I have not had a lot of time to work on anything because of work obligations but I do have a fic ready to post and a handful of almost-there WIPs; fics that if I just sat down and added one more section, or did a final read-through on, I could post.

For Sneak Peek Sunday, I present to you my They’re Almost Ready list.

Boomerang (Un-Romance AU):

Maxwell.

I wonder what he is doing here. Then I hear his voice carry over my partition.

“Hey, Reebee,” he says, using his nickname for me.

“Max!” I say a little too loudly and a lot too cheerfully.

He steps to my ‘doorway’. “I come bearing treats,” he announces as he holds out a brown paper bag in one hand and my pink drink in the other.

I tell him to come in, and he plops in the guest chair before handing me my drink and cookies. I place them on my desk and roll my chair around so I’m facing him. I eye him appraisingly: Maxwell looks good. He’s still slim with a head full of gelled hair; his face is still handsome in an odd way. Maxwell is the type that is always animated: eyes flashing and sparkling, a permanent half smile lifting one corner of his mouth, hands moving.

A man in motion.

Right now, his leg is jiggling while his fingers tap and dance against his pant-covered thigh.

“What brings you here?” I ask curiously.

“I dropped Pen off this morning and walking her to the elevator, we ran into Lynn going on a coffee run.”

I freeze momentarily. Maxwell dropped Penelope off? “You and Pen?” I ask in what I hope is a casual tone.

He nods happily. “I ran into her at a pet shelter a couple of weekends ago. We talked some, grabbed some lunch, and we’ve been … hanging out ever since.”

“He was looking for a peacock!” Penelope offered helpfully from her cubicle.

I nod slowly. “Hanging out,” I repeat.

Max’s eyes grow wide as he takes in my expression. “It’s not like that.”

We stare at each other. The yet is unspoken. 

Ghosts (Damien/Kai/Hayden ):

We were eating dinner in the living room. America’s Most Eligible was on, and for whatever reason, Kai and Hayden absolutely love that show. There were shrieks of laughter and finger pointing at the television set while I watched them absently, barely tasting my dinner.

Hayden noticed my lack of scoffing and reprimand and looked at me quizzically. “Are you okay, love?”

Kai put down her forkful of food to look at me through narrowed eyes. “Does this have to do with that client? What’s the job, Damien?”

She is neither suspicious nor jealous, just protective. Kai doesn’t love deeply or passionately; she loves fiercely.

I sip some cold beer. “I don’t know the job yet. I have to meet with them to find out.”

They both look at me skeptically. I shrug. “I just … I don’t know. I feel disconnected and I don’t know why.”

Except I do. I’m lying to the two most important people in my life, after mom and siblings, because of a man who left me three years ago. Over a phone call. I didn’t hear from him when I was heartbroken. I didn’t hear from him when robot assassins and a crazy man were trying to kill me and my friends.

No, he waits until I’m happy again to call. And I answered.

Love in a Time of Betrayal:

The light in the room was muted as the late afternoon sun filtered in through the closed window blinds. The heavy damask curtains were pulled open, tied back with cords of silk rope. They reminded her of an opera box.

Her hands ran down the front of his shirt, frantically pulling buttons through their holes; the diamond on her finger sparkled in the muted light of the room. The fabric was soft beneath her fingertips. Silk? Often washed cotton? It didn’t matter as she pulled the shirt from his broad shoulders. He let out a low laugh at her eagerness, his hair falling across his forehead in an endearing way.

She couldn’t wait to run her fingers through it.

The man pulled her closer to his bare chest, his short curly hairs matted to his skin. She breathed him in: pinecones, green grass, cognac. A hint of leather. Her lips found the crook of his neck and placed a kiss on his collarbone. He responded by planting a kiss in her hair.

They were star-crossed lovers, their hearts and their fates always at odds. The very Universe telling them constantly that they were not to be together, yet their bodies spoke differently.

Their love spoke differently.

She wondered if what they shared was lust or love, and always decided love. Lust could be sated, but her feelings for him never were.

He knew he loved her, with every fiber of his being. But he saw the signs: every chance they had at happiness was snatched away; sometimes cruelly, sometimes subtly. Either way, the pain was the same:

Deep. Hurtful. So intense not even the sweet release of death would alleviate it.

But here they were again, under the most trying of circumstances, attempting to right their world the only way they knew how.

The Queen’s Friendship:

The woman and Veronica were sitting in a dive bar, eating burgers and drinking beers. It had been five years since high school graduation, and their group of friends had disbanded:

Brenda’s mother had died soon after graduation, and she and her siblings had sold the house and divided the money. Brenda moved to Richmond, VA and had gotten a job with the state government. She was expecting her first child any day.

James had gotten a football scholarship from Auburn University. He played well, but not well enough to be noticed by the NFL. He was working as an accountant in Birmingham.

Michael D. had joined the Army.

Michael B. had moved to DC to attend Howard University and was applying to the police academy.

Shirley was in nursing school, and roommates with Rosalind, who was now a cosmetologist.

Ryan had gotten a degree in Physical Education Teaching and Coaching. He had always liked sports, but not playing them. He was waiting to hear back from the school board about a coaching position.

Veronica had gotten her meeting planning certification and was now looking to get into real estate.

The woman had her degree in Office Administration, along with the rest of the world. She had applied to several places but had yet to hear back.

Veronica dipped her French fry in ketchup as she studied the woman’s face. “I need you to be there! We’ve been friends forever and I want you to be my maid of honor!”

“You and Ryan are getting married?” The woman repeated her friend’s earlier statement, feeling foolish. Why, she wasn’t sure.

Veronica leaned back, tapping her nail against her chin. “I thought you were over Ryan?”

“I am! I am!” the woman hurriedly reassured her lifelong friend. “I just … wow, life is moving fast.”

Veronica nodded as she sat up straight. “It is, but it’s right, ya know?”

The woman nodded, but she didn’t know. She didn’t know how right felt. The two friends finished their meal, and on their way out, the woman saw a sign hanging on the wall: Now hiring waitresses, all shifts.

How I Met Your Wife:

The Duchess stopped fussing long enough to allow Yu to greet her deferentially; Riley smiled at the pretty, slim waitress and asked if there were a more private dining area she and her friends could enjoy their lunch. Yu arched an eyebrow; already the waitress held resentment against the Duchess. Of course she would want to lord her power and position over everyone else.

With a grunt, Yu led them to the private dining area reserved for large and/or private parties. Once the group was seated, Riley grasped Yu’s hand. “Thank you so much for accommodating my request. My appreciation will be reflected in your gratuity.”

Yu looked at the Duchess with a touch of incredulity before saying, “It’s the least I can do given that the King is offering the orchard workers some relief. I have family members who are affected.”

Riley looked at the waitress with concerned eyes before rummaging in her purse. “What are their names?”

Yu gave her the names before leaving the table with menus. She didn’t expect anything to come of it, but at least the new Duchess gave good lip service. She returned with the tea service in time to hear the Duchess on her phone arguing with someone who had to be the King.

“NO, you CANNOT return to the manor, Liam! And NO ONE is coming to the Palace! How in the HELL are you going to suggest WE use the SAME BAKER you and Madeleine were going to use?”

Silence as the Duchess listened to whatever the King was saying.

“I DO NOT CARE THAT THEY ARE THE ROYAL BAKERS! DO I LOOK ROYAL TO YOU?”

Yu hung back, not sure what to do. Riley smiled, and waved her over. “I am going to find a local Valtorian baker for the cake.” Brief silence. “IT ISN’T OUR WEDDING CAKE! I have three people, possibly four, with me RIGHT NOW who would LOVE to be the Duke of Valtoria! Don’t worry about who they are!’

More silence, then the Duchess hung up the phone. She looked at Yu. “The King will be joining us. Please send him here when he arrives.”

Coronation:

I run my hand through my hair while keeping the other on the steering wheel. The car is quiet, too quiet. I turn on the radio and a melancholy song fills the sedan.

And I bruise when you leave the room I never liked the way it felt Keepin' my hands to myself, mmm

Like some magic moment of which I'm not quite sure I wonder if you've ever been in love like this before You'll be scared when I possess you But you'll want me all the more

The music doesn’t help because my brain is filled with questions and images. There’s not enough room for the music and I impatiently turn the radio off. My phone rings; my hand fumbles on the passenger seat and I pull my eyes from the nearly empty road long enough to see it’s Beaumont calling and press the speaker button to answer.

“Yeah?” I growl as I check the speedometer and press a little harder on the gas pedal.

“Drake! We got Little Blossom! She’s going to stay!” he babbles excitedly in my ear.

I am quiet for a moment before I respond. “That’s great. Liam will be happy to hear it.” I don’t bother to ask Maxwell why he convinced Brooks to stay.

Liam made a choice. It wasn’t her.

“I thought you’d be more excited,” Maxwell says with some confusion in his voice.

“Olivia showed up at the Coronation, talked to Liam, and left. Then the pictures of Brooks came out. Wondering if there’s a connection.”

“You think Liv sent the pictures?”

I roll my eyes in annoyance. I try to keep the irritation out of my response. “No, Beaumont. I’m wondering if whoever did this to Brooks is behind Liv’s leaving.”

Desperate Measures:

Blinking back tears, Bertrand glanced at his watch. He raised an eyebrow as he realized it was almost time for his visitors. They were coming to meet with the stoic, confident Duke of Ramsford, not some maudlin, lovesick fool whose bank account was dangerously close to being overdrawn.

He pulled his papers together in neat stack and centered them precisely in the middle of the desk. He opened a drawer, and retrieved his lint brush, rolling it in brisk strokes over his suit jacket and sweater vest. Before leaving the study, he reached in a candy dish; he plucked a breath mint, which he popped in his mouth.

The Duke strode down the hall, ignoring the paintings and photos that lined the walls. He needed to check on lunch; the cook had been with the Beaumont family for decades; she still came in twice a week to do the grocery shopping and prepare dinner for the Duke and Lord. The rest of the staff had been let go; Bertrand could not afford to pay them, and people needed to make a living.  

Bertrand trusted the chef implicitly, and normally wouldn’t micromanage, but today was important.

This meeting could put House Beaumont back on the road to riches.

Crown Prince Liam’s social season was starting in two days’ time; Maxwell had accompanied the Prince and some friends to New York City. Bertrand had tasked him with finding a wealthy American socialite who may be willing to sponsor herself in the season. It was a long shot, but Bertrand was desperate. Nothing seemed too farfetched at this point.

House Beaumont could not afford to sponsor anyone; however, every house who entered a suitor received a stipend to cover expenses such as clothing, food, and transportation. The House with the winning suitor received press coverage and a check to be split with the suitor.

Bertrand needed a winning suitor.

But the noblewomen of Cordonia did not need House Beaumont; they had their own houses, and no need to come out of pocket. However, there was one suitor who was entering the season who came from a minor noble house. A suitor whose name was unknown despite her mother having strong ties to Cordonia.

A suitor who had money, and lots of it.

Lady Hana Lee of Shanghai.

What are you working on @ao719​ @bobasheebaby​ @katedrakeohd​ @glaimtruelovealways​ @burnsoslow​ @thecordoniandiaries​ @bbrandy2002​

[of-tatooine]

honor him. | chapter 6 - loose ends

new information comes to light and the contract is bent. 

“One move and I start cutting.”

Breath held back in a sharp gasp, the quick palpitations of the heart beating out of the chest. A little hiss at the coldness of the blade against warmer skin. The salty droplets of cold sweat starting to form on their foreheads. Too afraid to take tentative steps to escape, threatened by the perfectly-measured, mastered amount of sheer pressure against their throats just enough to not break the barrier of flesh.  

If all the targets that fell dead under your blade had something in common, it would be their reactions when you prepared to deliver the final cut.

Pendleton had been no different. The moment your cold steel met his skin, the nobleman knew better not to move his hands towards the blade he kept on the dresser. If an assassin had been that skilled to sneak in, not make a single living whiff of a sound and press a blade against him like that - he would not dare take a single breath. Though he had been surprised, you could tell by the way his head tilted ever so slightly to the right, to hear a woman’s voice wielding the killer weapon. You hoped he did not have a weak heart, since you were about to surprise him much, much more with what was to come.

The contract sent by Lord Shaw to the one and only Knife of Dunwall stated that Lord Treavor Pendleton was to be eliminated, with a handsome reward of shiny five thousand coin. Most nobles you had been ordered to kill, that you have interacted with at some level, had been slimy and shady, thinking their money and their power would solve every single problem they encountered - even the slightest inconveniences. Most of the times, they did. That night was not going to be one of those times.

“Take a seat over at that chair,” your strong voice would demand while your empty, gloved hand would reach out to grab onto the back of his fancy overcoat tightly, the agonizing touch of the blade loosening ever so slightly against his throat to give him room to walk. “Start walking.”

It was as if you could sense the cowardice of his soul seeping through his expensive garments, the man’s breathing became ragged with droplets of cold sweat racing down his jaw as you followed him around the bed towards the wooden chair, nudging him. Only when he sat down without resisting you could you take a good look at his face - terror, his slicked back black hair emanating a couple of loose strands out of sweat, his eyes big and full of fear. Some glints of surprise in the orbs, as he took a good look upwards at his captor, who happened to be a sight for sore eyes.

Standing in front of your captive with nothing but determination in your eyes, your extended hand would hold the steel dangerously close to his bulging, sweaty throat part covered by that high-collar neckline he wore. An occasional night breeze would toy with your hair as the fading remnants of sunlight hit your features.

“W-what do you want? I swear, I can give you money, so much money and power-” the man would start rambling, in a trembling voice as one of his legs started shaking ever-so-slightly.

“Someone wants you dead and gone, Pendleton,” your voice dipped in control echoed in the vast bedroom, as you would lean in lightly. “I have to admit - I did too. I would love to stick a blade in your little throat and watch you squirm. After all, you’re just another noble out of the bunch, aren’t you?”

Pendleton gulped, the pleading look in his eyes back again. “Please...”

Tilting your head slightly, you would lean in even further, the blade staying horizontally against his flesh, restricting all movement. “But on my way here, I came across a very interesting sight. It isn’t exactly the wisest decision to conspire near the Regent’s Parliament, huh?”

If someone’s eyes could widen to cover half their face, Treavor’s eyes at that moment would. Oh, this was bad. Not only would this woman gut him alive and leave him to the plague rats to feast on, she had heard their plans too. The entire Pendleton family name, if someone had found out about his intent to restore the rightful heir, would perish to no avail. The mere thought made him quiver under her hands.

“I know a great deal,” you started, your voice thickening as your orbs bore fire into his, your face inches away from his terrified one.

“Emily Kaldwin. I want to know where she is, Treavor. And before you start saying you don’t know anything,” the blade pressed against his throat firmer, causing him to writhe under you. “I know those choffers you call siblings have her, so I suggest you co-operate with me here.”

It was almost as if the eminent fear of dying had awakened something inside of the coward, when his eyes lit up for a second, looking into your eyes with a newfound tone in them.

“That information comes at a price.”

To that, you could not help but let out a chuckle, shaking your head at his utter and hopeless naivety. You were being paid top coin to kill this man - was he not aware of the fact that you could skin him alive right that second?

“You bastard. I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands now, are you?” you would ask, the edge of the blade leaving a small cut underneath his jaw, couple drops of blood coating your shiny metal. A loud hiss would emanate from the man underneath you, yet he managed to look into your eyes with all the courage he could muster.

“I can do better than that. You help us get the Royal Protector out of Coldridge, I will get out of sight and out of mind, disappear into the Void itself.”

It was your turn to show surprise as he made you the most unexpected offer. It was as if all those made-up rescue scenarios you made in your head, playing different turns of events for four long months were coming to life. Could you trust this man? Was he loyal to the Empire as he claimed to be?

“I can just torture you to death right here and you would be begging to spill information to me,” you spoke, your tone evident.

It seemed like the man did not have a choice but to trust you. He knew damn well what you had been capable of, the itching and burning fresh cut on his jawline would always be a reminder of that. Bribing guards had been too risky - no one could pinpoint what those dimwits could do. If you hadn’t had good intentions for the heiress either, you would have started torturing him on the spot, but instead you leaned towards the more merciful path.

“Lady, you could have killed me the moment you stepped in my chambers. You need me alive. The Empire needs nobles who are still loyal to the Kaldwin reign, and you know it.”

Never before had you been this intimidated by a target. You had been sent to stick a blade through this man, what in the Void did you think you were doing, trying to cut some crazy deal with him for a suicide mission, all the while sparing him? It felt like losing control - you did not like losing control. Jaw clenched and fire burning in your eyes, it was time you took it back.

“I’ll do it,” the words spilled out of your mouth without little hesitation. “Tell me where Lady Emily is.”

Pendleton could only let out a little grin, blinking, not expecting to recruit that easily into the conspiracy. “My brothers frequent the finest bathhouse in the Isles.”

Getting the hint, your eyes would glimmer with determination and you would nod sharply to the man, before you extracted your blade back into the holster and made your fist meet his jaw. Sending him reeling back to tumble on the hardwood with a groan.

Out of the corner of your eye, a small glint of metal caught your attention, positioned neatly on the chestnut dresser against the wooden-paneled wall. You had done this man the favor of his lifetime by not letting him go victim to your blade - maybe it would not hurt him too much if you scavenged a little something.

A Kaldwin cameo, you would recognize as you walked towards it, the mere sight of it making you clench your jaw. Without giving it a second thought, you grabbed the shiny object, slipping it into your pouch. “If I hear your name around anytime soon, I will come and slice your head off,” your threatening voice echoed as you perched up on the window, looking at a disheveled Pendleton leaning against the wall.

His fingers tracing the burning cut, he could only look as you jumped out of the window towards the rooftops.

                                                           ---

The return back to your base, the wretched place you had learned to call a home alongside him, had not been as easy as it had always been after your previous targets, who were no doubt swarming the Void already.

The choices you make, he would tell you, always matter to someone, somewhere.

Letting Pendleton disappear alive and unharmed, to realize the plans he had been discussing with the Admiral was a decision that would impact you and those around you tremendously. It would mark the start of your involvement with the conspiracy, founded to bandage the wounds your master had impaled under orders. As you approached the riverside neighboring the non-functioning but ever-so-tall Greaves Refinery in the skiff of a smuggler you had paid to get across Wrenhaven, the dawn of the approaching crossroads sulked on your mind. The mission ahead of you irking you to an extent you never felt before, knowing there was so much more at stake than just life and death. In many ways, the future of an Empire depended on whether you succeeded. The burden it had already put on your shoulders was beginning to drag you down, cloud your mind with reason and equally with judgment.

Was aiding Corvo in any way treason to your master? The same master who stuck a blade into the woman he was hired to protect? The former Royal Protector was an unknown, a mystery - even if he did manage to get out in one piece, which was very unlikely given the nature of the busted hole he was in, there was no telling what he would do. Would the man be so full of revenge that he would start killing every person he set his sights onto? Cause havoc in the cursed city that has taken everything away from him?

No. The Corvo you knew all those years ago would not. You prayed to the dark-eyed god that all that pain and misery had not changed him too much.

Slowly making your way through your territory, the route to Central Rudshore gave you the opportunity to reflect, your reflection gazing at you through the chest-high waters. The more you thought, the more your heart and your mind slipped into unison. You had seen Daud, once a bloodthirsty killer without emotion, crumble and suffer with the regret that his last assassination brought onto his aching soul. You knew he would take it back, take everything back to the start, give back all the coin and put a blade into that small man Burrows if he had the chance to.

He ached to do something right, something for the good of the Empire, and so did you. In your heart and mind, aiding Corvo Attano get his honor back was the right thing to do. Even when you served the man who led to his misery in the first place - you would do your part in a hopeful quest to restore the rightful heir, for as long as you could, all the while keeping your Master from harm’s way.

It was that deep hollow in your stomach letting you know that you only could for so long.

Mask on, couple of your fellow Whalers would greet you inside the Commerce Building as you approached his double doors. For the moment, all you could do, all you could hope for was for the noble to listen to your carefully-spoken word and leave the area for however long it needed to take so that rich bastard Lord Shaw would not notice you deliberately failing the contract. You only could hope the payment reached Daud safely and soundly - the last thing you wanted to do was to give him even the slightest hint of suspicion.

Taking your mask off the moment you stepped inside his quarters, you would find the Master Assassin lighting up a cigar, holding it in between his leather-clad fingers as his head would rise in your walking figure, your blade holstered and mask in hand. His steel blues glinting in relief for a split second to see one of his best Whalers coming back in one piece, his head would tilt ever so slightly to the left, eager to listen.

“Pendleton’s eliminated,” your voice would not falter, in all due technicality, it had not been a lie. Daud would catch your dishonesty even if you were far away in the damned Void itself. There was no use trying the Old Knife.

The assassin would nod, taking a long drag off of his cigar as his other hand scribbled something illegible onto his ledger, guessing it had been the bounty off of the contract. Taking steps closer to his office space, you would notice the fresh cards he readied near his audiograph - you had an inkling of an idea of what they would be about. Lately, his thoughts were about one thing and one thing only.

“I need you to lay low for a while,” the master assassin would start with his usually gruff voice, this time a little hint of care etched onto his words. “Pendleton was a man with connections, and I don’t want anyone tracing back to us. People in the Parliament will notice his sudden absence. Get a little rest, you earned it.”

Your features neutral with a hint of a smile on your lips, you would nod graciously. The Whalers had been laying low for a while, ever since it all came down. His request from you did not intrigue you too much.

“As you wish, Master,” would spill out of your mouth as your fingers gave him a salute, which he would return with a nod your way before you vanished into the shadows.

Daud knew they could not keep hiding and running like this - trouble was headed their way whether they liked it or not. Whatever demise that was coming his way, he knew he deserved it.

Not yet, he would mumble to himself as he exhaled the thick smoke.

[fallen-gravity]

Fightin’ Back Chapter 3

Chapter Notes:  Final stretch, boys! This is the last chapter that takes place in season one before we get into the heavier themes of season two. Boyz Crazy this time, and probably the only emotional hurt/comfort chapter of the entire fic.

So, uh, this has actually been up on AO3 for a few days already, but it completely slipped my mind to post the tumblr link until now. My bad 😂

AO3

The car is uncomfortably quiet as Stan pulls away from Lookout Point. Dipper’s leaning against the passenger side door, staring into the mirror like if he stares at Wendy long enough she’ll notice and chase after them to apologize to him for snapping at him. Stan taps at the steering wheel rhythmically, just to get some sort of noise to break the tension in the air, and Dipper sighs. 

It’s sad, really. The kid had been so excited to split Wendy and Robbie up before they left that he tried to insist on driving the golf cart up there himself. But he had no idea where Lookout Point even was, and Stan was sure someone was finally going to notice that the golf karts were stolen from the Northwest Golf Course, so he offered to drive him there in the car instead. And even then, the kid had been so excited he was bouncing in his seat the entire drive over. Stan’s sure he would’ve neglected the seatbelt altogether if he hadn’t reached over and clicked it into place for him. He was going on and on and on about code deceptions and the supernatural and how Robbie must’ve gotten the CD at some evil black market, or maybe he really did burn the CD himself and he’s secretly a vampire demon or something, and how that reminds him that he should “try mixing some salt into his spray bottle of holy water the next time he’s out demon hunting”, but now that everything’s over and done with and Wendy bitterly insisted she’d rather walk home than be with any of them right now, Dipper’s looking more like a sick puppy limping home with his tail tucked between his legs.

“Ah, don’t think too much into it, kid” Stan says, and Dipper finally breaks free from his mirror trance to spare him a defeated look in his eyes. “The breakup’s still fresh. I bet by this time tomorrow she’ll be all over you, swooning over how you saved her from that horrible monster”. 

Dipper doesn’t respond, just raises an eyebrow at him and goes right back into staring out the window. Least they’re too far away for him to still be staring at Wendy out the rear view mirror. 

“I mean it!” Stan barks a laugh. “Never got to finish that story I was telling you earlier. So after Carla ran off with that hippie, I stuck around to see how things were going with her. I was sure there was something about him that he wasn’t telling her.” He pounds at his chest with one of his fists. “And I was right! Turns out the dude’s guitar was, uh, cursed. So one day while he was sleeping I broke into his apartment and smashed the thing to pieces. After he had nothing left to show for himself, Carla came running back to me. Even drove the guy’s van into the ravine just so he couldn’t bother us again”

There’s a hint of a smile on Dipper’s face. “I don’t think I’d sink low enough to break the law, Grunkle Stan.”  He pulls himself away from the window. “Plus I thought you said she hated you for doing that"

Stan taps at his head. “You gotta work on your listening skills, Dips. I said he hated me for doing that” 

Dipper rolls his eyes at him, the most Dipper thing he’s done since getting back in the car to head home.

“Look, my point is, you gotta learn to look at things more positively. Maybe she wants nothing to do with you now, but tomorrow? You never know”.

Dipper flinches at the idea, but this time when he sighs it sounds more like he’s trying to calm his own nerves than like he’s trying not to cry. 

Stan pulls the car up to the back of the shack and unlocks the door. He steps out, and just as he’s about to head into the house he turns heel to talk to Dipper before the kid has time to run past him up to his bedroom to mope. “How’s about we sit in the living room with a couple a’ Pitt Colas and watch a movie to forget about the whole ordeal? Your choice”

Dipper mumbles something about movie night to himself, but only responds to Stan’s offer with a shrug. “I’m not in the mood. You can go in without me. I’ll come in when I’m ready”

Yeah, okay, Stan’s not buying that for a minute. He knows by now that when Dipper starts moping, the kid isn’t gonna move for hours. It’ll be two in the morning before he decides to come in, and even later if he accidentally falls asleep.

No mention that there’s child protection laws against leaving kids in locked cars.

…and that car-eating tree monster Stan’s sure he’s read about in that first Journal. 

Screw it. 

Stan gets back in the car, but Dipper doesn’t so much as blink when Stan closes the door behind him. Stan’s willing to believe that it’s because Dipper assumed he went inside, and whoa, okay, whoever put the idea in the kid’s head that he’s not worth the time of day is gonna need to start answering questions fast.

He turns the keys to start the ignition, and Dipper nearly jumps out of his skin when his door clicks locked on him. “Grunkle Stan?” he asks, once he realizes the car is pulling away again. “Where are you taking me?”

“Y’got cotton in your ears? I told you before, kid, I’m taking you bowling”

“Right now? I thought you were just saying that to make me feel better”.

“I was!” Stan flashes a grin. “But I never specified that you had a choice in the matter, now did I?”

Dipper opens his mouth to argue, but before he can get so much as a word out, Stan speeds out of the driveway so quickly that Dipper’s head whacks against the headrest of his seat.

~~~~~~~

Friday nights are usually the busiest day of the week for the bowling alley, but when you know exactly the right kind of people and have just the right amount of bribe money in your pocket, you can waltz in and get any lane you want as fast as you want.

Dipper, despite all of this, doesn’t seem as thrilled about the idea of bowling as Stan is. 

“Aw, c’mon, kid” Stan gently nudges him with his elbow. “I’m letting you go first! Everyone knows the person who gets to bowl first is the person you need to beat. It’s a privilege, if you ask me” 

“I dunno, Grunkle Stan” he fiddles with the laces of his sneakers. “I appreciate the gesture, and all, but...I’m just not feeling up for it tonight”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Not up for beating me at something you know you can hold over me the rest of the summer?”  He scooches closer to Dipper on the bench. “Now I know something’s really wrong. This still about Wendy?”

He winces at the mention of her name like he’d just been slapped in the face, and Stan sighs.

“Look, Dips…” he pauses, trying to figure out to work around making this sound like the most awkward conversation he’s ever had with...anyone, let alone his own nephew. “Who needs women, am I right?”  He raises the can of soda he’d bought from the snack bar in a toast, but Dipper only rubs at his arm awkwardly. 

There’s gotta be something that’ll get Dipper to understand how many times Stan’s found himself in the exact same situation. 

Well, okay, Stan knows exactly what’ll get him to understand, but if he goes around telling so much as Mabel, the kid’s dead to him.

He sighs. “Kiddo, if you repeat what I’m about to tell you, you’re dead. Not just to me, I’m talkin’ dead dead. Got it?”

That seems to be enough to catch his attention. “O-of course” he repeats, like Stan’s about to tell him the secrets to unlocking the universe. It almost makes Stan wish that his story were more interesting. 

“Truth is, that story I told you about Carla ain’t exactly how it actually went”

Dipper blinks. “I…know. You told me that earlier” 

“No, I mean…” Stan pinches the bridge of his nose. “I mean, none of it was true. Obviously nobody rocketed off into the sky on a rainbow, or anything, but...Carla and I hadn’t even been dating anymore”

“What?” Dipper’s voice squeaks, and Stan chuckles.

“Well, we had been dating, y’see? But she’d just broken up with me a few days ago when I decided to stop over to the Juke Joint to see if she’d wanted to talk about changing her mind” he raises his hands in defense. “I only went in to talk. Scout’s honor, or...whatever it is your sister says.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, I get in there, and that hippy really is playing his transcendental music up on this tiny stage they had there”.

He takes a hard swig of his soda like it was a shot glass. “But Carla was up there with him, y’see? She was singing to some...weird folksy song that I’d never heard of before. Didn’t even sound like she was singing in English.” He leans back on the bench, resting his hands at the back of his head as he turns his gaze to Dipper. “That’s how I knew I lost her for good. So instead of causing a scene like some kinda....jerk”, he catches himself, “I ran out into the parking lot and hotwired her new boyfriend’s van and hightailed it outta there”.

The gaze that Dipper gives him is sympathetic, but he’s also covering his hand over his mouth like he’s trying not to giggle. 

“See? What’d I tell ya?” Stan flashes a grin. “You don’t need girls to show you a good time” he raises his drink towards the television screen above their bowling lane, still flashing with Dipper’s name. “You can always have a great time with your Grunkle Stan! No chance of eventual heartbreak with me”

“I know, I know…” Dipper stands to play his turn, and pretends the weight of the bowling ball doesn’t tip him over as he chucks it down the lane. The ball careens off to the side at the last second, barely even scraping the surface of the pins. “But I don’t think that’s entirely what’s bothering me” His second throw knocks down all but two pins, leaving him with a seven-ten split.  The screen switches to flashing Stan’s name, and Dipper turns to him as he returns to his seat.

Now we’re getting somewhere. Stan stands, pretending to appear dismissive in case it’s something Dipper doesn’t want to admit with all eyes on him. “You tellin’ me I just told you my biggest secret for nothing?”

Dipper blushes. “N-no! That’s not what I meant”. He sighs, looking down at his hands. “I mean, Wendy’s really one of the first people to really...accept me into her friend group.” This time he’s the one waving a defensive hand in the air. “Not that I’m saying I’ve never had friends before,” he squeaks, “...but they’ve felt…forced? Since Mabel and I were in a lot of the same friend circles, it just...always felt like they liked her better than me and only let me tag along because they knew I was related to her, or something”

Wow, okay, that hits way closer to home than Stan was expecting it to. He opens his mouth to comment, but it turns out that he’s not talking.

“But in comes Wendy, and y-yeah! Maybe some of it has to do with...other things” his face is turning pink, and he’s trying to hide in his vest. “But she’s so cool to me, and it doesn’t feel at all like she’s just using me to get to Mabel. Her friends like to make babysitting jokes whenever we tag along with them, but with Wendy  it feels like she really wants us to be there” He sighs, and slumps against his seat. “What if she hates me? Or never talks to me again? Or she quits working at the Mystery Shack because she doesn’t want to be around me, or-or she does keep hanging around, but it’s just like everyone at school, and she’s only there for Mabel, but she’s too cool to cause a scene and tell me to leave, and-”

“Breathe, kid” Stan’s at his side in an instant, gripping firmly onto Dipper’s arm to help him back onto his chair before he falls to the floor. “You’re gonna give yourself a panic attack.” He loosens his grip on Dipper’s arm once the color starts returning to his face. “Tell me, you really think Wendy’s the kinda person to kick you to the curb like that?”

Dipper doesn’t respond right away, but he’s taking deep breaths, which is a good sign. “No, I guess not…” he physically turns his body towards Stan to look at him, probably to prevent another dizzying spell. “But she looked so angry at me, and she grouped me together with Robbie, and she’s probably never talking to him again, I’m just….so worried I’m gonna lose the coolest friend I’ll probably ever have”.

Stan shrugs. “Trust me, bud, you do not have to worry about that. Teenagers are just like that. Y’get angry, you need to blow off steam for a few hours, but come tomorrow you’re over it like it never happened”. Stan finally goes to take his turn, lobbing the ball down the lane like it weighs little more than a penny. It slips into the gutter, but at the last second it careens back up and knocks all the pins over. He grins, pumping his arms in the air, and turns his gaze back towards Dipper. “You should’ve seen me when I was her age! I’d break a window, I’d punch a jerk in the face, and then I’d be over it”

“Grunkle Stan, you’re still like that”

“Exactly!” he boasts. “And you don’t see me holding grudges against people who don’t deserve it, do ya? You know you meant well, Dipper, and I’m sure it won’t take long for her to realize that too.”

Dipper’s playing with the edge of his vest. “I guess so”.

“There, see?” Stan gently nudges him as he sits down beside him again. “Problem solved”. He says, but backtracks a little when he remembers what Dipper had said about his anxieties around making friends. “And if you ever need any of my advice on how to talk to girls without using any creepy mind-altering CDs, I’m your guy” he flashes Dipper a thumbs up, and it makes him smile.

“Thanks, Grunkle Stan. I’ll keep that in mind”.

[pastelwitchling]

This prompt is courtesy of Anonymous.

if you feel inspired, prompt: alex and forrest got in an accident together and alex wakes up in the hospital crazy worried about him :)

***

               Alex woke to white walls and a bright light that burned his eyes.

               As he had slept, one face had come to mind; a kind face, with warm eyes and an even warmer smile, his hair bluer than the ocean’s depths. He muttered a name, a stranger’s not too long ago and now as familiar to him as his own.

His voice came out hoarse, his throat ached, and almost instantly, he heard the voice and saw the outline of gold curls that made his head hurt and his heart ache more than anything else these days.

“Alex,” he breathed, relief evident in his voice. “Hey, you’re awake – careful, don’t get up yet.”

“Forrest,” Alex said again as soon as he felt himself able to breathe properly, a throbbing pain in his temples and waist. He reached up to touch his forehead only to find a bandage wrapped around his head, too caught up in trying to remember what had happened and why he was here to notice that Michael’s smile had turned to a deep frown.

“Er – careful, Private,” he chuckled as Alex tried to force himself up into a sitting position again, but it sounded forced and uncomfortable.

“Where’s Forrest? I was with Forrest,” Alex persisted. “Is – is he hurt? I – I can’t – what happened?”

“Alex,” Kyle exhaled as he came in, a hand on his chest. “You’re awake. Good.”

“Why am I – stop it, Guerin, I can sit up by myself – Kyle, why am I here?”

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Kyle held up his hands as if it would calm Alex down. But nothing would calm him now, nothing but seeing Forrest, knowing he was okay and in better condition than Alex was. “You were in a car crash –”

“Car crash?” But even as Alex said it, he heard the sound of breaking metal, shattered glass, Forrest yelling his name, his arm out to protect him. “Is Forrest okay?”

Michael’s frown deepened, his brows furrowed as if he couldn’t understand why Alex was talking about his own boyfriend now.

Kyle was nodding. “Forrest is –”

Right then, Forrest burst into the room, his eyes falling on Alex as if he’d been able to see him through the walls and was eager to get to him as quickly as possible.

“Captain, you’re okay.” Forrest sounded so relieved, Alex felt his heart climb into his throat. Forrest had his arm bandaged and a nurse at his heels, insisting he needed the cut on his forehead bandaged as well. He didn’t seem to hear her as he closed the distance between him and Alex, wrapping his arms around the airman’s shoulders tightly.

Alex winced, and Forrest drew back, his expression pained. “Sorry, Cap.”

Alex laughed, and it hurt his ribs, but it was the first happiness and relief he’d felt since waking. He was just about to tell Forrest that he was fine, better now that he was here, but before the words could leave his lips, Michael came in between them, keeping Forrest away with a hand to his chest.

“Back off, you could’ve hurt him.”

Forrest’s smile fell as he met Michael’s glare with his own. “Guerin, I’m not in the mood to deal with you today, would you please get out of the way so I can check on my boyfriend?”

Michael’s eye twitched, as it always did when Forrest called Alex what he was – his boyfriend – and he scoffed. “Alex wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for your crap driving.”

“Some woman just appeared in the middle of the road!” he said angrily, his face red. “What’d you want me to do, run her over? I did what I could!”

To anyone else, he may have seemed prideful, but to Alex – who had come to know him so quickly and so well – the truth was much clearer and much sadder than that. Forrest’s fists trembled at his side. He was flooded with guilt and rage only with himself. He blamed himself for what had happened to Alex.

“Guerin,” Alex tried nudging him aside, but as Forrest took another step closer to him, Michael put a hand to his chest again and kept him back. “Forrest saved us,” he defended. “We could’ve died.”

“No, instead you’re lying here, battered and bruised because he wasn’t quick enough.”

“Stop it,” Alex said. “You can’t – ah!” Alex tilted sideways, his hand on his waist as the searing pain in his side became unbearable.

“You’re both stressing him out!” Kyle said, and moved to check his morphine levels. “Either you behave, or you can both leave. That’s not a request!”

Alex was vaguely aware of Michael’s voice repeating his name, Michael’s hands trying to touch his shoulder, Michael’s body trying to inch closer to his – and it all angered Alex beyond words. They’d had their chance to be together, they’d had their chance to care for each other like this, and he’d thrown it away. As much as Alex suffered, Michael had always, always been worth that pain, but Alex wasn’t worth it in return.

Forrest was beaten and cut up, too, but here he was, worried for Alex. Alex didn’t want anymore reminders of the cold eyes and even colder words, of smiles and kisses that weren’t his, of petty jealousy that always went nowhere beyond a child’s tantrum of wanting what one couldn’t have.

Alex wanted to be good for someone, too, and he wanted someone to be good for him. He wanted someone who fought for him the way Michael had never bothered to. He wanted Forrest.

“Guerin,” Alex was breathing heavily now, his eyes shut. “Leave.”

Without looking at him, Alex knew Michael’s face had fallen. He wondered if that would ever stop, his ability to read Michael’s thoughts and emotions more easily than his own, then wondered if he ever actually wanted it to.

“Alex,” he said, his words slow and careful. “Listen, I know you’re tired –”

“No, you don’t,” Alex said sharply. You don’t know how tired I am, you don’t know what it takes me to send you away, you don’t know how badly it will kill me if you’re not here. You don’t know, because if you did, you never would’ve left in the first place.

Michael, it seemed, had heard him anyway. Michael would always be the one who heard him best.

His voice when he spoke again was quiet, pleading. “Alex –”

“GO AWAY!” Alex snapped, shutting his eyes tighter against it all. “I’m exhausted and in pain, and I want to be with my boyfriend, just LEAVE!”

A pin-drop silence followed, and it was only until after Alex felt a soft hand barely brush back his hair, after he heard receding footsteps, after the door shut that he realized he was clenching his jaw painfully tight.

His eyes burned, but there no light to blame this time, and he felt a dip in the bed beside him. A hand came around the side of his head, carefully avoiding his bandages – Forrest, Alex thought – and gently pulled Alex’s head onto his shoulder.

Alex wanted to say he was fine, that nothing hurt anymore, but it would’ve been a terrible, terrible lie. Everything hurt. Everything burned. Everything killed him.

He opened his mouth to attempt to be reassuring, but no sooner had his lips parted than a sound horrifyingly close to a sob escaped. Forrest raked his fingers softly through Alex’s hair, and Alex turned to press his face into his boyfriend’s chest.

“I’ve got you, Cap,” Forrest said, and for the first time in too long a time to remember, Alex allowed himself to trust that he was safe. “I’ve got you.”

[nelllraiser]

seeing is beleafing | solomon & nell

LOCATION: nell’s greenhouse at the vural home. PARTIES: @shroomsbysolomon & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: solomon stumbles upon a lush haven, and nell tries to defend her plants only to be pleasantly surprised. 

As always— the pinging of the property spell going off when someone foreign crossed it jolted Nell awake, anxiety quick to pool in her stomach. Grabbing a knife from her bedside table, she clutched it confidently as she made her way out to the balcony that was connected to her room, leaning over the edge of it to find whether she could see who this intruder was from the vantage point. Spotting an outrageously tall figure by her greenhouse, her ire only grew hotter, and Nell wasted no time in launching herself over the side of the railing, using a spell to slow her fall and land softly on the grass beneath. Then she was making angry strides towards her prized possession, trying to make sense of the mass of...whatever it was that was peering through the glass. “Hey!” she yelled out at the stranger, realizing whoever this was had to be at least nine feet tall. “Get your slender-man ass away from my plants!” she called out again, brandishing the knife in front of her as she closed in. It was only as she got closer that she recognized why the form of the intruder was so hard to identify. All the distinguishing lines of a person were broken up by...were those little mushrooms growing off of him?

Usually when he was this close to town, Solomon would have started using his illusory magic. It wasn’t likely that he’d run into someone out here, but it was possible… with the small smattering of cabins that dotted the area. But tonight? Tonight he was distracted, because he’d suddenly stumbled upon a greenhouse that he’d somehow managed to completely miss for however long, and he was smitten. Moving almost silently through the trees, the massive Leshy slowly came out into the clearing that surrounded the property, eyeless gaze fixed upon the structure. A soft sound reverberated from within the elk skull that hid his face, something akin to a very pleased sigh, and he lumbered over to the object of his attention. Pushing off the grass with his hands, Solomon rose to his full height, leaning carefully against the glass as he peered inside. There were so many lovely plants to take in! He wanted to be inside, to smell that damp, earthy goodness — but someone was coming. With a start, the creature dropped back down onto his hands, turning his lithe frame to face the small woman as he tried to make himself appear smaller. Shit. The lichen and moss that hung from his antlers swayed as he shifted awkwardly on the spot, keeping his branch-like hands planted firmly against the soil between his feet. “No, I…” His voice was deep and rumbling, but still gentle, in an unexpected sort of way. “Sssorry. Just… admiring.” He turned his head to glance warily at the greenhouse, then dipped it in a way that was perhaps meant to convey his shame in being caught.

He’d gone back to his crouched position, making himself smaller as Nell yelled. Good. It seemed she’d successfully yelled him into submission despite him still being nearly the same height as her even in this diminished pose. “That’s right!” she spoke in the same aggressive tone, knife flashing in the light of the moon. “Go ahead and take your noodle butt somewhere el-” she paused mid sentence as the indeterminate shape of a creature turned towards her, and she finally came to recognize what was perched atop its head. An elk skull? She recognized the shape from her own sacrifices she’d made for blood magic, though the ones she encountered didn’t usually speak back to her, and certainly not in a tone so demure. It was distracting enough for her to take a long moment to pinpoint exactly what it was the creature in front of her was. With assorted plants growing from him he looked like his own personal biome, a walking haven for his little mushrooms. A leshy? She’d only met one other, and he hadn’t looked all that similar to the man in front of her, no animal skull or mushrooms to speak of. The fae’s prompt apology had her hackles lowering in the slightest, her blade also dipping a fraction of an inch. “...You like it? The greenhouse?” It would make sense, wouldn’t it? A leshy admiring some greenery.

Solomon never enjoyed being yelled at, of course, though it was a rare occurrence. Still, his reaction was to recoil, not to lash out, as the young woman had posed no real threat just yet. Flinching beneath the bite of her words, he lapsed into a hopeful silence when she took a few beats to really examine him, keeping still as he could. It had been quite a time since a human (or human-presenting) being had seen him in this form, and he was quick to recall how it had played out the last few times. To say it’d gone poorly would be an understatement… he hoped that would not be the case today. It seemed he was in luck, for after her pause she posed a question that simply begged him to respond enthusiastically. “Oh, yes,” the creature mused, nodding his large head at her, lifting a hand to press it gently against the glass once more. “Lovely. Isss it yours? Do you care for it? I wasss just wishing I could get inside, without…” He dipped his head again, waving his claws dismissively before returning them to the spot between his feet. “... you know. Breaking.”

The more the leshy seemed to withdraw as she berated him, the less Nell felt the need to threaten him. It was plain to see that the man-tree wasn’t planning on fighting back, and Nell paused a beat before finally giving her knife a thoughtful twirl, letting it lower to her side. It was still gripped snugly in her hold, but looking less and less like she was anticipating the need to stab or slash. It was hard to maintain her wariness when he replied with such enthusiasm to her question, seemingly a naturally endearing creature. “Uh- yeah, it’s mine. I got it about ten months ago.” It had been part of her parents’ bribe to bring her home from a five-year excursion outside White Crest, and into her sister’s home. As the fae expressed his concern and care for entering the greenhouse, Nell stood somewhat nonplussed, uncertain as to where they were meant to go from here. “Who are you, exactly?” That made sense to ask, right? “I don’t usually let strangers into my greenhouse…” But who else would know how to appreciate her plants as well as a leshy would? His desires seemed relatively harmless for the moment.

Listening carefully while she explained, Solomon found his gaze flicking between the owner of the greenhouse and all the plants that rested on the other side of the glass. Ahh, so it was fairly new, that must have been why he hadn’t come across it till now. As a rule, he didn’t usually get this close to dwellings in the outskirts, but once the greenhouse had caught his eye, he’d forgotten all his usual rules. Then, of course, came the question of his identity. “Oh, well, you sssee…” His voice trailed, head tilting slightly skyward as if he were lost in thought. “I would… rather not say… but I have lived in these woods for two yearsss now. Go into town during the day… obviously not looking like thisss.” He glanced down at himself, large, claw-like fingertips tapping into the soft earth. “It is okay, I can… look from here,” he offered, though the self restraint seemed to have deflated him a bit. 

“Not even a name? Or something to call you?” Nell pressed lightly, not knowing how to address the leshy if she didn’t have a way of identifying him. But she also knew fae and their strange ways when it came to names at times. “You don’t have to tell me anything else.” Two years...that would have been some time after Bea bought the house. “Yeah, I’d imagine a giant tree walking around the Common might be a little attention grabbing,” the witch tried to joke. “But then again people around here see crazy shit every day.” For a moment the young woman worried her lip between her teeth, looking between the funghi-ridden man and her beloved plants. “If I let you in...you promi-” she cut the word off mid-sentence as she reminded herself she was dealing with fae. “You won’t touch anything unless you ask?” Normally she wouldn’t be so ready to allow a stranger access to her haven, but the fact that he was quite literally a plant himself helped to comfort the worry she might have over any potential hazard.

Solomon had never had a name, not until he stole one from a man he murdered. There was probably something that the vikings had called him when they found him back when he was just a sapling, but he couldn’t really remember anymore. He knew that if he gave her the name he used to masquerade as a human, she’d probably figure it out… eventually. And he’d like to keep that eventuality to a minimum, despite having mucked it up a couple times already. He really was a terrible liar. Trying to think on his feet, the leshy tried hard to come up with something else she could call him, and the only things coming to mind were the plants he spent so much time around, cultivating and cherishing. “You may call me… ehm… Lily,” he muttered, the delicate white curves of the flower filling his mind. His attention quickly shifted, though, and his whole body seemed to jitter excitedly as the woman laid down some ground rules for him. “Of courssse!” he chirped. “Permission first.” 

Nell waited curiously, the curiosity giving way to a flicker of amusement crossing her features when the leshy gave his answer. “Alright Lily- if we’re doing code names then I’m gonna give myself a cool one, too.” Which one would suffice, though? Hellraiser had been her name in the Ring, but that felt cringey to give in this sort of setting, and she didn’t want to bring any part of the place that had only cultivated pain and sorrow to follow her into the future. Taki was another obvious choice seeing as they were one of her favorite snacks...but she couldn’t steal the name of her familiar. “I’ll be...Len,” she finally said with a snicker, all too tickled by the foolish way she’d reversed her name to make a new one. “Lenny- if my plants like you enough.” It was meant as a joke while she turned back towards her greenhouse, looking over her shoulder to once again scan over the leshy before doubling down on her decision to let him into one of her most sacred spaces. Whispering a personalized spell that unlocked the door, she stepped into the greenhouse, turning to see if Lily would follow. “So this is it- welcome to the inside.”

Leaning in eagerly, black eye sockets fixed on the back of her head as she opened the door, Solomon let out a delighted grumble as it swung open and the stranger invited him in. Crawling forward on his hands and feet, head ducking down as he carefully slipped through the threshold, mindful of the size of his crown of bone, Solomon breathed deeply. His sigh seemed to swell in the enclosed space, the leaves of the plants reaching in his direction ever so slightly, then falling back to their original positions as he settled onto the floor. He was big, too big, and so his body began to shrink. Fae illusory magic brought him down to a more reasonable seven feet tall, and even his antler rack decreased in size, the uppermost points vanishing as the bone seemed to fade away. He seemed to pay this transformation no mind, transfixed instead by the healthy glow of all these flowers and greenery. “Beautiful,” the creature breathed, moving his skeletal face as close as he could to each new one that caught his eye, getting the best look possible without disturbing the plants, as promised. “Which isss your favorite?”

Nell could only blink in intrigue as Lily morphed himself to fit the confines of the greenhouse. To be honest, fae were the branch of species she was generally the least familiar with, though perhaps there should actually be some further understanding between herself and them considering that the fair folk were the only ones to hold their magic as spellcasters did. She knew the magic was different, having their own brand of weaving and channeling and the like, but it still linked them, didn’t it? “You like it?” Nell asked with a hint of pride to her voice. After all, what greater achievement was there than a nearly literal spirit of the forest approving your plants? Surely he’d be the best reigning opinion on the matter. The greenhouse was lush, full of a wide variety of plants with the least conspicuous of them gracing the front end of the greenhouse. However if one bothered to venture further, they’d be first greeted with plants of a witchier origin, plenty of herbs and the like to help fuel spellwork. The further one went in, the more supernatural it got, with greenery unknown to the normal world growing in the back. “Oh, I can’t choose a favorite,” she answered, fielding the question as if someone had asked who her favorite child was. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t say it in front of them,” she joked lightly. “Did you have a favorite?”

Nodding enthusiastically, Solomon continued to survey the expanse of plantlife. His gaze was drawn to the rear of the greenhouse, and he noticed how the more humble plants were stationed near the front, leaving the more interesting ones tucked away, secret. Shrugging in agreement, Solomon let out a dry, scratchy laugh. “That isss a good point,” he mused, moving farther into the building, still lumbering on all fours like an animal, to better keep himself from knocking into things. “Well, I am fond of liliesss... as you may have guessed,” he answered distractedly, large head swaying this way and that, body ducking down to the floor to get a good look at the shorter sprouts, then reaching up, up, up to admire the tall ones. “Len, I am… sssurprised to sssee such variety in… a human’s care,” Solomon commented as they made their way farther back, the more exotic and purposeful greenery becoming abundant. He could sense something about her, something that reminded him of the witches he had known many hundreds of years ago. They had been good to him, and he remembered them fondly to this day. The energy that radiated from the young woman was almost identical, which begged the question… “Are you a witch?” Of course it would make sense, with a greenhouse like this, but he didn’t want to be rude and assume anything.

Nell decided that Lily reminded her of a very solemn toddler— like one of those children on a talk-show who were brought on because they knew the name of every country on the map and its capital before they could even properly hold a spoon. Seemingly mature and composed, but not entirely understanding of the concepts an everyday human would encounter, and shaky on their execution. Perhaps that was why he seemed to be so endearing. “Do you have a favorite lily?” she asked quickly, eager to have met someone who could understand the beauty of growth and greenery. As he used her silly pseudonym, Nell barely surprised a small snicker, settling for a crooked grin instead. Nevertheless, she was proud at his continued approval of her set up and plants. She shouldn’t have been surprised by his final question, but her eyebrows raised slightly nonetheless, silent for a split moment as she thought her answer over. It would be fair to divulge her own identity in return, wouldn’t it? After all, she already knew he was a Leshy, and he didn’t seem to mean any harm. “Yep, that’s me. Lots of this stuff I use for spellwork. But some of it’s just for the kitchen, too. Sometimes it’s for both.” Kitchen magic was a lovely branch of mysticality. “And sometimes it’s just ‘cause it’s pretty.” 

“The Forever Sssusan lily,” Solomon answered after a brief moment of thought, “it reminds me of autumn.” He cast her a fond glance, if such a thing could be achieved with an expressionless, bone visage. When she answered his rather straightforward question, he seemed to brighten even further. “Brilliant,” he muttered happily, the mushrooms that dotted his large frame seeming to grow just a touch taller. “I used to know sssome witches, up in the mountainsss… oh, they were wonderful. Sssome of my favorite people. They were very good to me.” His gaze fell on Len again after wandering her greenhouse a bit more, inspecting the more exotic flora. “You ssseem good too, Len. Kind.” He seemed almost relieved, his thoughts recalling the less than kind spellcaster he’d met a couple weeks prior, who had absolutely rubbed him in every wrong way possible. Crouched on his hands and feet, Solomon lifted his head high and took one more deep, long  breath. “Thank you for sssharing your greenhouse with me. It wasss a nice break from the familiarity of these woods.” He realized, in that moment, that if he were to have a home—a proper one, that was—he would want something like this. “Do you think… perhapsss… I could return sssome day? If it is no trouble… It just feels very, ah… nice in here.” Not to mention, he could use more friends.

Nell made a humming sound of approval as Lily imparted his favorite flower, already envisioning the deep purples and vibrant oranges of the bloom in her mind’s eye. It was a stunning flower, and certainly one of the showier lilies. Vaguely, she wondered what Lily’s choice said about him, but she wasn’t nearly so perceptive as to make a passing and accurate judgement into the inner workings of a stranger’s mind such as the leshy’s. Still she wondered at what it meant that the forest creature would enjoy being reminded of autumn, the time in which most plants lost their color and leaves. Perhaps he liked the promise that they would return, and the cycle of life that continued to turn in its unshakable circle. Nell nodded eagerly as he mentioned the other witches, remembering childhood trips their mother had taken them on to visit sister covens. The nostalgia was quickly followed with a small pang of pain, knowing that those bridges had most likely been burned when she and her sisters had been banished from their coven. “I’m glad,” she decided to answer simply, a well-meaning half smile on her lips. As for kindness...she’d never particularly used that word when thinking of herself. Well-meaning, perhaps. Or possibly even thoughtful at times, but it was hard for her to reconcile the mistakes and choices she’d made with a word as soft as ‘kind’. “If I am, it’s only because you’ve been kind in return,” she said diplomatically, not entirely knowing how to accept his compliment when she wasn’t all that sure it was true. His request to return left her hesitating for a split second. The greenhouse had always been a place of repose, a hideaway haven where she could simply be away from the world and all others. But if there was anyone who would appreciate the greenhouse for what it was as she did, surely it would be Lily. Her response to his question was to forage through a nearby string that had newly dried tea leaves from it. Whispering a few words of magic over the lemon balm leaves she’d chosen, she then offered them to Lily. “When you wanna visit- just brew these into a tea, and I’ll know to meet you here and to let you in.”

Similarly, Solomon had never been described as ‘kind’ by anyone he’d known… though people’s opinions of him were often kept secret, so there was no telling the impressions he’d left on those who kept their tongues tied. The assessment struck him as curious, and he made a mental note of it. Interacting with people was hard enough already, he’d take any tips people gave out so freely. Watching the witch while she suddenly busied her hands, large head canted to the side, Solomon gave a soft, delighted sigh when she turned around again to give him his instructions. “Thank you, Len,” he gushed, holding a spindly-fingered hand out to accept the leaves, cradling them gently in his large palm as he looked back to her face. The magic was intriguing to him, to say the least—obviously it was very different from his own, and he found the (apparent) simplicity of it to be fascinating. Brew tea, summon friend. Easy as that! Closing his hand to protect the tea leaves, the leshy gave her a deep bow of his head. “I look forward to our next meeting, then,” he murmured happily, rising to his feet to walk back to the greenhouse entrance with her, again ducking through the doorway and stepping out into the moonlit clearing. “Be well!” She was offered an enthusiastic wave, one Solomon had seen many people perform before, and then he was off, lumbering back into the darkness of the wood. What a charming, unexpected evening! He’d remember it fondly for decades to come.

[marimeetsmischief]

can i be basic (with you)?

read on ao3

tags: fluff, little bit of angst, mostly marichat, identity reveal, WHOOPS self indulgent

summary:

so are you feeling stupid, too?

i hope i'm not the only fool.

don't wanna run away from you.

inspired by the song "basic" by sigrid <3

___

Marinette?"

The girl finally took notice and looked at him, a spaced out expression slowly draining off of her fave and giving way to a sheepish smile.

"Oh, sorry Chat Noir, what were you saying?"

He laughed softly, shaking his head at her. "That's the fourth time tonight, you know," he teased, nudging her with his elbow gently.

She rolled her eyes, shoving him playfully in return. This was a comfortable habit by now. Once or twice a week, he would drop in on her after patrols, and she just seemed to be full of never-ending acceptance of him. Sometimes she would open the skylight before he could even knock, already climbing out with drinks or snacks for them to share. All it ever did was reaffirm for him that Marinette was the most unconditionally kind person he had ever met. It was so easy to look at her, practically glowing under the moonlight, so full of softness and life, so easy that sometimes he forgot about everything else.

"Who's the one spacing out now, huh?" She said, waving her hand in front of his eyes. He jumped back a little, turning red and then shaking his head.

His hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing at it anxiously as he tried to offer her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Purrincess," he joked, always unable to resist the punny nickname when it came to her.

She groaned, smacking her palm into her face at the nickname. At first, she had ignored it, and even seemed a little embarrassed by it, but that was probably because he had gone just a little overboard on the charm when she had helped him with the Evillustrator. Now that they considered each other friends for real though, she didn't hide her mix of amused annoyance, something that reminding him so much of his favorite spotted heroine.

"When are you gonna let that awful nickname go?" she asked with an exasperated sigh, even as the corners of her lips crept up in a smile.

He grinned in response, hopping up from his seated position on the railing and standing on it instead. He dipped into a low bow, holding his hand out in a dramatic flair of princely behavior. "You have to admit that it's kind of fitting, Princess. A room at the top of the tower, a balcony that looks over the city, and the beautiful princess waiting for her prince," he added with a wink, still grinning as he walked along the railing toward her.

"Oh, you think I'm beautiful, huh?"

His foot slipped as he realized exactly what he had said, and he tumbled off the railing, thankfully only onto the balcony instead of down onto the street.

"Chat!" She yelped, jumping straight up as he fell and darting over to him. "OhmygodImsosorry, are you okay?!"

Rolling over onto his back, he looked up at her. She had kneeled down behind his head and now she was leaned over him, staring at him with those brilliant blue eyes of hers.

"You really are beautiful, Marinette," he said softly, locking his eyes onto hers with so much certainty in his look. Her eyes slowly widened and her lips parted, and then he realized that he had done it again. Both of their faces turned red and he scrambled to sit up quickly, only to knock his forehead into hers with a solid thud.

She leaned back immediately, holding her hand to her forehead. "Ouch, Chat, sheesh. What are you trying to do, give me amnesia?"

"Uh, purrhaps?" he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck again. "Sorry, Mari, for your head, and the uh... you know."

Laughing, she shrugged it off, even though her very red face made it clear that she was more than a little embarrassed. "Isn't Ladybug usually the one who's at the receiving end of your compliments?" she asked, trying to brush past the obvious awkwardness.

She was right, of course. It was normally his lady that occupied his thoughts, because she had always been extraordinary. Still, he shrugged and sighed, leaning back on his arms to look up at the sky. "My Lady is amazing. That's always been true, and it always will be. Things are just... more complicated lately."

"Complicated?" she said quietly. He heard her moving around, and then she was sitting next to him with a curious expression.

"Ah. Sorry, I don't know." He shook his head, sitting straight up again, glancing over at her. He knew exactly what his complication was, but he wasn't sure he could really bring himself to say it either.

She met his glance, offering a kind smile that made his heartbeat jump. "You can talk to me, you know," she murmured softly, a hint of an emotion he couldn't place on her face. She seemed almost... conflicted?

"I love Ladybug. I've always made that clear," he started explain. After another glance at her made him nervous, he leaned back to lie down on the balcony floor, staring up at the sky, which somehow didn't help as much as he thought it would because all he could think was that her eyes sparkled more than the sky ever could.

"Yeah..." she finally mumbled in response, which shook him out of his quickly spiraling thoughts.

"I, um, I might be starting to think I'm in love with... someone else, too," he admitted finally, chickening out of the confession at the last second. "I've always thought that Ladybug was 'it' for me. She's this brilliant beacon of hope and goodness, but sometimes she really does feel like an actual beacon. Like I can see her light, and it's close, but it's just out of reach, and if I try too hard, I'll get smashed on the rocks. I guess that being in love like that is starting to feel... complicated."

He paused, closing his eyes as he started to picture his Lady in his mind. She was as beautiful as ever, and she still made his heart go crazy but... there was hesitance now, and he knew that the oddly silent girl next to him was the cause.

"This other girl, even though she's made my feelings complicated, she somehow manages to make things so simple all at once. If Ladybug is the sun, then she's like the moon. She's soft, and sometimes sad, and even if she reminds me of Ladybug in some ways, she's still entirely herself in everything she does." Realizing that he had been rambling like a fool, he cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to shrug it off. "Wow, sorry, I don't know where that came from!"

Marinette shifted slightly and looked at him, starting to stand up before pausing to speak. "It sounds like you really care about them both, Chat," she offered quietly, then stood up the rest of the way. He turned his head to watch her walk to the railing, leaning onto it so heavily that it made his heart hurt for some reason. She just seemed so tired. "I know how you feel," she mumbled so softly that he probably wouldn't have heard it without his cat hearing.

"What do you mean?" he asked in response, and she jumped slightly, almost like she had forgotten he was there.

"Oh. Well, I've already told you about the boy I've been crushing on for a while now but there's sort of someone else creeping into my heart too? So, I guess I just understand what you're feeling."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. He knew she liked someone, even if he wasn't sure who it was. He had managed to convince himself that maybe he had more of a chance with her than Ladybug though, but if she liked two people? That made him a lot less sure. Trying to process this, he sat in silence and she didn't appear to want to interrupt it either. Both of them were stuck in thought, and finally he just sighed, clambering to his feet.

"Hey, Marinette?" He called softly, standing just behind her with his hand rubbing the back of his neck again. She turned around quickly, trying to get rid of the sad look on her face before she faced him, though he could still see it in her eyes.

"What is it Chat?" she asked, stepping away from the railing and towards him.

He held out a hand, and after a moment of hesitation, she put her hand in his. Using it as a tether, he gently pulled her forward and then grabbed her other hand too, holding them both in his own. He looked down at her hands, turning her palms up and tracing the lines with his thumbs.

"Chat?" she asked again, a little quieter this time.

"I don't want to be complicated anymore, Marinette." He paused, taking a deep breath and flicking his gaze up to her eyes before bring it back down again. He wouldn't be able to say what he wanted to if he was looking into those, that was for sure. "I... It's you, Marinette. I think that, well, no, I know that I'm falling for you."

His heart almost stopped at the soft way her breath hitched and she froze stone still. Before she could question him or try to speak, he hurried to explain.

"At first I just wanted to come here because you were just so... confusing to me. I know I shouldn't say this, but I know you as my civilian self."

"Chat! You can't-"

He nodded, finally looking up at her. "I know. It's just hard. Having the mask just makes things so complicated!" He squeezed her hands, trying to bring himself back down to a more calm state. "And I hate things being complicated. My life, all of it, has always been complicated enough. I don't regret accepting the miraculous, but sometimes I just wish that things were easier, so please just hear me out on this, okay?"

She looked skeptical at first, and hesitant to let him do something they both knew had risks. Still, he mustered up the most heartfelt pleading look he could, and she relented with a sigh. "Alright."

"You... you act so different, around civilian me? I know I can't tell you a lot of details or how close we are, even, but it's just always been a mystery to me." Pausing, he took another deep breath and tried to figure out what to say without overwhelming her. "Marinette, you're kind of the most amazing person I know."

"That! Well, that can't be true, I mean.. Ladybug, right?!" she sputtered, starting to pull away from him slightly as her face flushed red.

"It's not the same. Ladybug is... she's a hero. People just kind of expect kindness from her, and yeah, maybe it's not required, but she just sees it as part of the role. But you? You're just nice to everyone, because you want to be! It's like you were literally made of kindness. Even with me..." He looked up at her, letting go of her hands finally. She was doing her best to avoid looking at him, and he gently tilted her face back towards him. "You've been so kind to me. Both sides of me, even when you barely knew me and had no reason to be. With the life I live, you, Princess, are one of the only people who truly makes me feel real."

She sniffled softly, and he could see tears starting to form in her eyes, something that made his heart drop. "I... I don't know what to say to that, Chat."

"You don't have to say anything, really, I just needed to un-complicate things, a little." He smiled sadly, moving back to give her some space again. He watched her reach up to wipe her eyes and sighed, frustrated with himself and the circumstances.

Seeing her tears start to spill over, he sighed again. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled her into his arms and wrapped around her tightly. "I hate that I caused this. I'm sorry, Princess."

"It's not your fault, silly cat," she mumbled softly, starting to relax in his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder, her arms twined around his torso. He couldn't help but be a little pleased that she still wanted to be around him, and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head. She sighed at that, squeezing him a little tighter. "It's just that things are still so complicated. Gosh, I hate that word."

"Well, maybe I can make things less complicated," he said thoughtfully. It was something he never thought he would consider, but now that he had, the thought was implanted in his mind. "I don't want things to be complicated or difficult for either of us. I'm okay with going in blind if it means I'll crash into you. You're the most trustworthy person I know, Marinette."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, pulling back slightly to give him a puzzled look.

He sighed, giving her a lopsided grin that didn't match the worry in his eyes. "Please don't be mad at me," he said, barely pausing before rushing into the next phrase. "Plagg, claws in."

"Chat, wait!" she squeaked out, but it was too late. There was a blinding flash of green light and she slammed her eyes shut, and then slapped her hand over them for good measure.

"Marinette, please," he said softly, reaching for her hands. He gently tugged the first one away, bringing it up to kiss her palm. "I need you to see me, all of me."

He could see that she was shaking, and probably angry with him, if her silence was any indication.

"I know that you're in love with two probably great guys. I know that I probably don't measure up to them either. And... if you really don't feel comfortable with this, I can transform again," he said, looking over his shoulder for his kwami, who he spotted lurking near a potted plant. The tiny cat god had no sarcastic comments, which was a shock, instead just nodding at him. "I used to think Ladybug would be the first one to know. Maybe she still should be, but I just know that you kind of mean everything to me, and I can't hide from you anymore."

When he had finished speaking, he let go of her hands, stepping back out of her space. She didn't move to cover her eyes with her hands, which was a relief, but she also wasn't opening her eyes either. She seemed like a statue, completely frozen in thought. He tried to wait it out, but after a few minutes, it seemed clear that she wasn't okay with this.

"I'm sorry, Marinette. I'll go, okay? Plagg-"

"W-wait!" she stammered out, reaching one hand out for him. He quickly wrapped both of his around it and squeezed hers reassuringly, trying to offer her any kind of comfort he could.

"It's okay. You don't have to force this," he said, giving her hand another soft squeeze.

"No, no. I... you're right. I don't want things to be complicated anymore." She took a deep breath, bringing her other hand up to squeeze his in return. After what felt like forever, her face un-scrunched itself and her eyes fluttered open.

At first, she didn't react at all. The world was perfectly still, and he couldn't really even see anything but her. Then, the realization started to kick in, and her eyes widened. From there, he watched her expression shift to something softer, and then there was embarrassment, some sadness, more shock, and every other possible emotion. Finally, she settled on a small smile and teary eyes, squeezing his hands.

"Adrien. It's you." she said, barely above a whisper. The tension seemed to have slipped off of her shoulders with those words, and she looked more lovely than anything he had ever seen.

"Yeah... Is that okay?" he finally managed to ask, letting go of her hands to rub his neck for the millionth time that night. She sure managed to make him uncertain sometimes, that was clear.

Instead of speaking, she just rolled her eyes and before he knew what was happening, she had crashed into him. She wrapped her arms around him, slightly on the tips of her toes to lean into him more. He felt himself relax all at once and hurried to return the embrace, practically lifting her up and spinning her around in his excitement.

"Of course it's okay, silly cat," she mumbled softly into his shoulder. "It's better than okay," actually," she added as an afterthought, and he looked down at her questioningly.

"Better than okay?"

She froze, leaning back to give him a sheepish and embarrassed smile. "Yeah, uh. The two guys that I have... feelings for, are you. Well, Adrien-you, and Chat-you."

He stepped back, gaping at her with wide eyes. "Wait, you had feelings for me and... me?" She only nodded in response and he grinned again, sweeping her into another enthusiastic hug, and then abruptly stopping again. "Which feelings came first?"

"Cha- I mean, Adrien! Agh!" She groaned, roughly rubbing her face with her hands, which only made him laugh. Hearing his amusement, she pulled her hands away and tried to glare at him but failed, pouting instead. "It's not funny!"

"I'm sorry! You're just cute when you're frustrated, Purrrrrincess," he said with an overdramatic flair, shooting her a grin. She was red in the face, and fighting to find words like she often did around his civilian self, and that made much more sense now. "You must find me pretty irresistible then, since you fell for me twice, how cute."

She shot another glare at him, though this one quickly became a smirk that terrified him. She chuckled slightly under her breath, and leaned up onto to her toes again. He froze as she got closer and closer to his face and watched her eagerly, trying not to be disappointed when she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He thought she would back down after that, but instead she leaned forward more, stopping when her mouth was so close to his ear that he could feel her breath. "You fell for me twice, too, Chaton."

His eyes widened and he started to respond, but before he could even get a syllable out, she had moved again and instead pressed her lips to his. Every single thought evaporated from his mind and the whole world became the vanilla and sweetness that he could taste on Marinette's - Ladybug's? - lips. He tilted his head to return the kiss, holding her in his arms like the treasure that she was. She felt so much like home to him, and he finally understood why trusting her had been as easy as breathing. Even physically, she fit perfectly in his arms, and her lips felt like they were molded to be kissed by him.

When they finally broke apart, she looked up at him and he met her eyes. Part of him felt ridiculous for thinking there could ever be two people with eyes as positively magical as hers.

"I love you," she said softly, her endlessly blue eyes filled to the brim with the sentiment to match her words.

"And I love you, m'Lady."