#despite their arrivals probably being spread out over several years

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

so i do really like the current au for the Drama, because it is Exquisitely pain causing for both ingo and emmet, but i also am very drawn to like. a second separate au where the whole pla cast are crater survivors of various wrecks, banded together and forming a sort of makeshift society. i think there's a lot of potential specifically in the survey corps' adapted role being to study kharaa and develop a cure. the only weird thing abt that is it's dubious that there were That many crashes that That many people survived but. we can handwave it idk

[carbo-ships]

Post Hoc AU: Chapter II

Previous: Chapter I

"Two weeks — you really haven't given me much time,” Terzo sighed. He and Copia stood in his successor’s private office. Terzo paced around aimlessly, noting what the new Papa had done with the place since he was forcibly evicted from the role. “I just hope it will be enough. They tell me she's been a tough one to crack, sì?"

“I haven’t given you anything,” Papa reminded him through clenched teeth. “They summoned you without my knowledge. I had no idea you’d even be coming until you arrived.”

Terzo shrugged, turning to face him. “I suppose that doesn’t surprise me. It’s clear to them how fond you’ve become of her. I think it's very sweet that you want to protect this girl — really, I do — but we've been given an assignment. This is bigger than either of us."

"I won't have you toying with her," Papa asserted firmly.

"And I won't have the ministry marking me a failure for a second time. This is my chance, Copia. I suggest you don't intervene — lest you end up like me."

Papa paused. The unspoken threat of his imminent death had hung over his head for the past several years. Mr. Saltarian had made it very clear that his time as Papa would end someday, and he’d learned that Sister Imperator and the rest of the ministry had no qualms with taking matters into their own hands. He knew Terzo was right. For his own sake, and for the sake of his ghouls, he would have to let his predecessor operate uninterrupted. He only hoped Ardis’s will was strong enough to withstand him.

Back in the dining room, the others took Terzo’s absence to explain their reaction to his arrival. It wasn’t that Terzo was dangerous, they assured her. They’d all known him when he was alive, and he was no more trouble than any other brother or sister of the faith. However, the fact that he was there meant that the ministry and other forces were up to something. That worried them. Changes at the monastery could be sudden, and sometimes violent. They would all just have to be vigilant until they fully understood the purpose of his return. Despite what he said, they doubted it was just for a casual visit. There would likely be details that Papa would not be allowed to share, but they imagined they would be debriefed on what they were allowed to know later in the day. They didn’t trust Terzo nor his reasons for being there, they summarized, but Ardis should not have to fear him.

She felt calmer, much less anxious about the walk she had agreed to take with him that evening. Aether was still a bit on edge and kept Ardis close to his side for the day just to ease his worries. He couldn’t rule out the possibility that Terzo’s arrival had something to do with her.

When dinnertime arrived, Terzo did not join them. There was no need for him to eat, Ardis supposed, considering he wasn’t exactly alive. As they ate, Papa gave a very vague answer regarding Terzo’s reason for being there. He merely said that he had come to “take care of some unfinished business”. They could tell he wasn’t giving them the full story, but they understood he was probably under orders not to divulge certain details. The ministry was strict with the spread of information, and it was not uncommon for the ghouls to be left in the dark. He put on a brave face, but they could tell how much it pained Papa that he could not share what he knew with his closest supporters. They would not pry. There was no need to make things more difficult for the poor man.

Just as they were finishing up, Terzo walked through the door. “Ah, there’s just the girl I wanted to see. Are you ready, my dear?”

She nodded and stood from her seat, bidding goodbye to Papa and the ghouls. Aether took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before she left the table. 

Terzo offered her his arm, and she took it with a nervous smile. He escorted her down the hall and out into the garden. The confidence with which he always carried himself made her grin. He walked with perfect posture, chest out like a proud pigeon, which amused her slightly. He'd been nothing but gentlemanly so far, but his lidded gaze and constant smirk did sometimes give her butterflies. There was an air about him that suggested he knew something she didn’t. He also seemed to make the others a bit nervous--she remembered how fidgety Papa had been that morning. She remembered the ghouls’ insistence that she had nothing to fear and let herself relax. Papa and the others had all been perfectly kind to her, and she was sure this would be no different.

"I've heard so much about you," she told him after a bit of small talk. "Papa has sung your praises."

"Has he, now?" Terzo asked with a smile.

"Oh, yes. He said your stage presence was second to none. He demonstrated your Cirice routine for me, and I can certainly see why you were so effective in your role."

Terzo chuckled. "Yes, that was always popular with the crowds.”

“That,” she continued sheepishly, “and that you were a bit of a Don Juan in your day.”

“Pah,” Terzo scoffed with a laugh, “it comes with the profession. If you ask me, Copia’s been slacking! Primo and Secondo, even Papa Nihil, they all had their share of fun when they wore the mitre. Perhaps I ought to be his wingman while I’m here, eh? I’m sure I could have the crowds swooning at his feet by week’s end.”

She laughed. Yes, there was nothing to worry about. He was just a man. “Yes, perhaps he is only a few tutoring sessions away from being a menace. My superiors think he’s trouble, but some of the ghouls certainly ruffle more feathers than he does.”

He let out a wistful sigh. “I do miss being up on that stage. There really is no feeling like it. May I, for old time's sake?"

"Hmm?" she asked, not quite understanding what he was requesting.

"Cirice you, my dear. It has been so long since I've had an audience."

She felt her cheeks flush slightly, but agreed. She knew exactly what it entailed from Papa’s demonstration, and the idea didn’t make her too uncomfortable.

"May I take your hand?" he requested.

"Of course."

He held her right hand in his, and his other hand found the small of her back. He looked directly into her eyes and cleared his throat. "I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart," he sang, his voice hushed and intimate. Her immediate reaction was to look away in embarrassment, but she somehow couldn't break his gaze. His white eye seemed to have her transfixed. "I can see through the scars inside you." He readjusted his hold on her hand and waist, reminding her how close they were to one another. They were nearly chest to chest, and she could hardly breathe. He repeated the verses, quieter and closer. Then, as he'd done to countless people before, he brought her hand to his lips and pressed an arduous kiss to it, never breaking eye contact with her.

She could only gawk at him.

Her stunned stare eventually broke way into a gleeful laugh. She was a blushing mess and could no longer meet his gaze, pulling away from him to hide her face in her hands. "You make a girl feel like she's the only woman in the world!"

"Oh, angel," he tutted with an amused grin, "have I made you blush? Mi dispiace, dear. And truly, thank you for indulging me.”

"I can certainly see why you were so effective," she giggled bashfully as she tried to regain her composure.

"I'm glad you think so," Terzo said with a proud smile. "It was not a very popular opinion."

Ardis tilted her head in confusion. "No?”

"Many a sister insisted my only worth was in a good fuck," he chuckled darkly.

Ardis couldn't help but gasp. The vulgarity of his statement had surprised her, but also nearly broke her heart. "Oh, Terzo, I'm sure that's not true!"

"What, do you doubt my prowess?" he teased, mocking offence. "I assure you, I left all my partners quite satisfied!"

That only made her cheeks darker, but she took both his hands in hers. "I— I mean, if you were anything like Papa said, I'm sure you must have done some real good around here."

Ardis was looking at him so earnestly that he couldn't bear to tease her any longer. "That's very kind of you to say. I only wish the ministry had agreed with you."

Her eyes scanned him — his subtle blue glow, how she could just barely see through him, the thin red line that circled his neck... "I'm so sorry they did this to you." The look in her eyes was something he wasn't accustomed to being on the receiving end of — pity.

He took her chin in his hand. "I'll have you shed no tears over me, my pet. What's done is done." This apparently did nothing to ease the pain in her heart. She surged forward and hugged him. It took him by surprise, but he quickly hugged her back. "Oh, what a sweet girl!" he cooed. "So worked up over a washed-up old papa. Copia is very lucky to have you." He pressed a comforting kiss to the top of her head. It hadn't been his intention to upset her like that, but the outpouring of sympathy was certainly a good sign.

Once she composed herself and let him go, he offered her his arm and the two of them continued their walk. He entertained her with stories from his papacy and the rituals that took part during it, leaving out some of the cruder details for the sake of her comfort. They’d been talking for nearly an hour when a chilly night breeze made Terzo realize just how late it had gotten. "Come. I am sure your ghoul will grow to resent me if I keep you from his side any longer." They walked arm-in-arm back to the main building.

Once inside, they made their way to the ghouls’ den and Terzo knocked on the door. Swiss answered it a moment later. "I've come to return your angel," Terzo announced, presenting her to her friends. "And Ardis – thank you for your kind words, dear," he tutted. With a quick glance to Aether, he leaned down and kissed Ardis's cheek. "Good night."

She smiled bashfully. "Good night, Terzo."

He sent Aether another look before turning on his heel and striding down the hall. When Ardis entered the room and took her seat next to Aether, the ghoul immediately bristled.

She smelled like Terzo.

Next: Chapter III

[havin-a-wee]

Doctor's Orders

pairing: gynecologist!harry x reader/doctor!harry x reader

word count: 2.3k+

warnings: smut, fingering

this is so long overdue i apologize but this is a request! i kinda love this piece so i hope you guys do too!

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

You sucked in a harsh breath as you heard your name being called from the front desk, the smiley old lady gesturing for you to follow her. You timidly walked behind her, your feet shuffling on the obnoxiously patterned carpet that lined the hallways.

You aren’t one to fear doctor’s appointments, in fact, you have never been apprehensive about going to one until right now. This appointment was something you’ve been avoiding for a while since you had moved to London, but there came a point where you couldn’t put it off for any longer. Back in the states, you were comfortable with your gynecologist, and you had no issue talking to her about problems you were having regarding your genitalia. But now that you were in a new city, you didn’t have the comfort that came with visiting a long-term doctor and faced new ones for the first time since you were a child. The rest of the doctor’s visits were pretty standard, but your private parts were something you struggled with understanding, Sure, you have seen porn and had sex, but it was never a fulfilling experience. In fact, you have never reached an orgasm. About a year ago you gave up on looking for men to help you and made it a mission to bring yourself to a climax. But alas, none of your efforts seemed to work. At this point, you were convinced that something was wrong with you, hence the gynecologist visit. Male gynecologist, that is.

Over the past month, you have spent a lot of time researching gynecologists in your area. The first one that came up was the one you are at now, but considering his gender you continued your hunt. But it kept leading you back to this one doctor, Dr. Styles, and that was why you are currently sitting in an exam room in his office.

You reassured yourself by looking up his name on your smartphone, scrolling through the 5-star reviews. The number of people who seemed to absolutely love this guy helped settle your nerves, so you read through them as you waited for a knock on the door.

That knock finally arrived a few minutes later, and you picked your head up and looked at the wooden door. “Come in!”

A head popped inside from behind the door as it was pushed open, and the doctor’s eyes found yours while he made his way into the small room. He’s tall, with a mop of chocolate brown curls on his head and bright green eyes accompanied by a friendly smile. He sat down, eyes never leaving yours until he placed his computer down and the screen lit up.

“‘Ello Darlin, m’Dr. Styles, but y’can call me Harry if you’d like.” He stuck out a hand, and your palm swiftly met his, the two of you looking at one another as you shook hands. His hands were enormous, and the rings placed on his fingers were cold to the touch. “Considering you’re a new patient, I took a peek at y’records and such, and I saw that y’ve always had a female gyno.”

You nodded your head slowly, opening your mouth to respond but getting cut off by Dr. Styles. “So I just wanted t’let y’know tha’ theres nothing t’be ashamed off, and I know what I’m doin’ so I promise you’re in expert hands.”

“Yeah, I was nervous, but I couldn’t ignore the amazing reviews people have given you, so I made an appointment.” You appreciated his reassurance a lot, and it really helped in the easing of your jitters. He turned back to his computer after nodding in response to you, clicking on a few keys before diverting his attention back to you.

“So what seems t’be the problem today Y/N?” An initial wave of shock hit you when he said your name, but it quickly dissolved when you remembered that he literally has access to all your medical information, so of course, he knows your name.

“This is a bit of an odd thing to come in for on my first appointment with you, but I think my vagina doesn’t work.” You let out a breathy chuckle at your own words. Dr. Styles seemed unphased by your forwardness, and you assumed he had heard a lot more abrasive things than that. “I’m a 22-year-old woman, but I’ve never had an orgasm. For the past year I’ve been focusing on doing it without a partner, but no matter how much time I spent or how many fancy toys I buy, I just end up feeling unsatisfied and disappointed.” He nodded along as you explained your issue, placing his chin in his hand while his elbow was placed on the desk.

“Have y’had any STD tests recently?”

“Yes, I had one last week, I’m clean and I’ve never had one in the past.”

“Is there any possibility tha’ you’re pregnant?”

“No, I haven’t slept with anyone in over a year.” You knew what questions he would ask, so to avoid wasting time you were giving him all the information he would need.

“When y’are sleeping with someone, do y’feel any sort of pleasure?”

“Yeah, but it’s just never enough, I guess.” His lips curled into an expression of concentration, and he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. The room was silent for all of around 30 seconds, but soon enough Dr. Styles spoke up.

“Based on yeh’ history and what y’telling me, it seems that y’just haven’t found the right bloke.” Your eyebrows lifted in surprise at his simple answer. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? “M’guessing y’can’t get y’self off cause’ y’tense and not fully relaxed. And the guys y’ve been with ave’all been doin’ a rubbish job.” He chuckled along with you, and you couldn’t help but agree with him. There was no one you could think of that had actually made you feel good the entire time and had actually focused on your pleasure and theirs. Most of the hookups you took part in were with frat boys who would stick their dick into anything with a hole. “But just in case, lemme’ check y’out just to make sure.”

He stood up from his chair and you swung your legs up on the cot, laying down on it. While you had waited for the doctor, you changed into the gown you were provided with, so there was only a thin piece of fabric between you and the curly-headed man that had taken a seat at the end of the seat.

It was now that you were faced with a dilemma that your anxious brain hadn’t even thought of prior to the appointment.

Dr. Styles was attractive. Like, really, really attractive.

Dr. Styles was attractive. Like, really, really attractive. And probably because of the nature of your discussion (and the fact that your body is severely desperate for sexual release), your core had been heating up since he first stepped into the room. So now, he would lift the skirt of the gown and see a pool of velvety wetness coating the inside of your thighs.

The back of the seat was propped up, allowing you to see him. This was a good thing for him because he could talk to you while he does his job, but it means you will have to look at him after he sees the mess you’ve made.

“May I?” His fingers gripped onto the edges of the gown, and you swallowed hoarsely before nodding your approval. While you know that he probably has witnessed much more embarrassing situations than the one you were in right now, it didn’t make the predicament any better. As you suspected, he kept a straight face when he lifted the flimsy material from your legs. Without taking a second glance, he turned to a bottle on his desk and pumped a dollop of lube onto his glove-clad fingertips. He used his other gloved hand to spread the lubricant, only turning back to you when his two fingers were both well coated in the substance. “Y’alright?” Once again, you nodded at his question. “Tell me with words darlin’, wanna make sure y’comfortable.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What kind of exam are you doing exactly?” That question popped into your mind right before it rolled off your tongue because you noticed he had never specified exactly what he was looking for.

“M’just gonna use m’finger,” he held his lube-covered fingers, “and feel around, just t’make sure everythins’ fine.”

“Ok, sounds good.”

“M’gonna start now, s’gonna be cold at first.”

You hissed when his fingers met your sopping hole, and you had to resist the urge to kick your legs while he slowly pushed his fingers inside of you. The feeling was strange, but definitely not unwelcome. The contrast from his icy fingers to your warm center was sending a tingling sensation down your spine. You could feel his fingers push around inside of you, caressing your walls. And you know you shouldn’t. But his fingers were hitting all the right nerves, and you couldn’t help but find the experience immensely pleasurable.

Despite your best efforts, a small moan of satisfaction escaped your lips. Immediately, you went stiff, and you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. You just moaned while your doctor had his fingers inside you. For a moment you thought he would ignore the sexual noise that you had just made. But he suddenly looked up at you, his eyes previously locked on his fingers.

“Well, if y’moanin’ just from that, y’more sexually deprived than I thought.” He chuckled, and you cracked a small smile, but that was before his words actually hit you.

Was he, hitting on you?

Maybe not flirting, but that definitely wasn’t something that doctors say to their patients very often. His smirk was also giving you the idea that he had certain intentions.

“Everything seem good down’ere, so I think tha’ problem is with the guys y’gettin with, not you. What type of people do y’usually sleep with.”

“When I was sexually active, it was usually frat boys, so I guess I should’ve known I wasn’t the problem.” You let out a small laugh, Dr. Styles seems to have found it much more amusing, as his chuckle came from deep within his chest. A small movement came with the laugh, which also reminded you that his fingers were still very much inside of you.

“It seems y’need someone who knows his way around,” he cleared his throat, and you smiled as you realized what he was hinting at. “and y’my last paitent of the day, so m’more than happy t’help y’out.” He looked down at his feet shyly, and you found it adorable how he was nervous about what he was proposing. But you were on the verge of tears from how hard it was to hold back your physical response to his touches. Your body relaxed when the words came out of his mouth, and you let out the whine that had been building up in your throat.

“Yes-Harry, god yes.” It was the first time you were using his first name, but the smirk on his face showed his approval.

He quickly removed his fingers from your heat, and you whined again, this time in frustration. Losing contact left you feeling cold, but that feeling only lasted a fleeting moment, as soon as he was pushing his fingers into you again, this time bare.

“Y’already so wet love, what got y’this worked up hmm?”

“Y-you, Harry, I want you.” You tripped over your words, but they came out clear enough for him to understand because he began moving his fingers at the encouragement. His fingers began to pump in and out of you, and you knew he must have been right about not being with the right guys before, because the simple movements left you as putty in his hands. You barely got any pleasure from fingering in your other sexual encounters, but you were already a moaning mess underneath the man. He lifted his other hand, which had also had the glove on it removed, and placed the pad of his finger on your puffy clit. You mewled loudly and his smirk widened.

“Any o’those boys ever make y’feel this good darlin’?” You shook your head furiously, and he smiled, rubbing circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You were already seeing stars, and you could feel an unfamiliar knot forming in your stomach. “Y’so pretty, did y’know tha’?”

You couldn’t muster up enough strength to respond to his second question, but the loud moan that you let out was enough of an answer for him. His movements sped up, fingers pumping in and out of you and his other thumb pressing circles on your button.

“Harry-”

“Think y’close darlin’? Ready t’come fo’ the first time?”

“Yes, yes..” Your voice trailed off when a guttural moan rumbled through your throat. Although you haven’t had one before, you were sure that he was about to bring you to an orgasm. There was a tight feeling in your stomach and you knew it was just about to burst.

“Fuck-”

The knot burst and your orgasm rolled through your body, reaching every nerve inside of you. The feeling was euphoric, and your senses were heightened as your body experienced this new feeling.

“Thas’ it, good girl,” he cooed, slowing his movements and removing his fingers from your now overly sensitive clit. He worked you through your orgasm until fully removing his fingers from you, and you let out a sigh as he did so. “Definitely not somethin’ wrong with ya’, I can tell y’that.”

He smiled up at you and you returned the gesture, your smile only faltering when he turned away to write something down. You took the opportunity to get up and change, quickly dressing while his back was turned.

He turned in his chair to face you once again, handing you a small piece of paper. You took it from between his fingers to see a phone number scribbled on it in black ink.

“Is Doctor Styles giving me his number?” You said it in a cheeky way, smirking back at him.

“Yes, and he’s telling you to text him when you get home. Doctor’s orders.”

[thevoidfishsminstrel]

Lena let out an undignified squeak as she grabbed hold of the bookshelf beside her in an effort to not land on her face.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Lena turned, wiggling her foot back into her heels properly, before freezing, eyes widening at the caped figure now scrambling to her feet.

An array of books and magazines were spread out on the floor, presumably the culprit of her latest near death experience. It was as though National City’s newly revealed superhero had been sitting in between the bookshelves on the library floor… studying?

Lena clutched the cheesy romance novel she had been too busy reading to her chest as Supergirl looked at her in concern.

“Miss?”

Lena’s brain finally restarted and she cleared her throat, straightening her blazer. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Supergirl was wringing the edge of her cape in her fingers, looking far too nervous for someone who was suspected to be the strongest being on Earth by several sapphic blogs that Lena most definitely did not read.

“I’m fine.” She reached out to put a hand on Supergirl’s forearm in an impulse comfort gesture. “I promise.”

Supergirl seemed to relax slightly, some of the tension seeping from her shoulders. She held out a hand. “I’m Kara.”

Any tension that had left her immediately returned tenfold, eyes widening in panic as she froze.

Lena bit back a smile and took Kara’s hand, shaking it despite Kara’s lack of movement. “Lena. And don’t worry - your secret’s safe with me.”

Kara deflated, running a hand through her hair. “Alex is going to kill me.”

Lena laughed and patted Kara’s bicep (definitely the strongest being on Earth). “Maybe you should stop saying names now.”

Kara grimaced. “Oops.” She looked like she was about to say something else but stopped and looked at Lena again. “Wait… are you Lena Luthor?”

Lena straightened up, careful mask falling into place to try to hide the way her heart sped up and her throat constricted. “Yes.”

But before she could launch into her speech about how she was different from the rest of her family and only wanted to help, Kara lit up, crouching down to shuffle through her piles of literature until she came up with an issue of a science magazine from a few years ago.

“I just read your article about sustainable building and how we can introduce cost-effective eco-friendly measures to construction to reduce the damage done to the environment and promote a symbiotic relationship with nature.”

Lena blinked.

Kara almost poked herself in the eye before redirecting the movement to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I just thought it was really interesting. You’re probably tired of people asking you about your work.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “No I… I don’t mind.”

Kara smiled and Lena found her heart racing for an entirely different reason. She redirected her attention to the books scattered on the floor.

“So what’s National City’s resident superhero doing studying civil engineering, first aid and… veterinary science on the floor of the library?”

Kara blushed and knelt down to start scooping up all her things. “Sorry - I know I should have been at a desk I just got carried away.”

The pile of books was up to Kara’s eyebrows when she stood up and Lena laughed, taking the top third of them from her. “And I shouldn’t have been reading and walking. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Supergirl shrugged, toeing at the worn carpet with her red boots. “I’m new at the whole superhero thing. I don’t know where to freeze breath a building to hold it up or how to save someone who’s got water in their lungs from almost drowning. The other day I rescued a snake from a tree and tried to wrap it up in my cape to keep it warm and the owner told me ‘thanks, but reptiles are cold-blooded so they don’t warm up like that.’” She pouted at Lena. “The owner was a ten year old.”

Lena bit back a smile. “So you’re trying to learn how to be a better superhero?”

She shrugged and bit her lip. “I just don’t want to mess up.”

Lena considered her for a moment. “You know, I happen to have degrees in a few different kinds of engineering. And I made everyone at L-corp, including myself, take a first aid course when I took over.”

Kara looked as though she was trying to contain her hopeful expression. It wasn’t working very well, although that probably wasn’t surprising since her motto was ‘hope, help, and compassion for all.’

Kara bounced on her toes excitedly. “Would you help?”

Lena grinned and gestured to the left with her head. “Come on, I know which desk is the best in the library.”

———

It became somewhat of a routine after that. Every Saturday, Lena would go to the library as normal, pick out a new cheesy romance novel for the week and some kind of thick science book to hide it underneath, and then meet Supergirl in the back corner of the library, at the desk hidden behind the spare computers from the 90s where no one would find them.

Kara would normally already be there, pouring over texts and making notes in coloured pens and highlighters. Lena had bought her a rainbow of folders and dividers for each of the aspects of superheroing she was trying to improve in, and they had spent one very unproductive but fun day labelling and decorating them. They were now covered in random doodles, squiggly multicoloured patterns, and stickers that Kara had found in a rotating rack by the front desk, immediately claiming were essential for her learning.

During the week, Lena would keep an eye on any news of Supergirl, getting some strange looks from Jess when she walked into her office to see Lena cheering as Kara did something they’d worked on together. At the weekend she would listen to Kara excitedly retell those same events until the librarian came over to shush them. She seemed to be the only person in National city that wasn’t completely charmed by Supergirl, and it always led to half an hour of Kara pouting and asking Lena why the librarian didn’t like her.

It was a few weeks before Lena got there first. She frowned, checking the surrounding isles of books for any caped figures but they were all empty as usual.

She sat at their desk and opened up the book she had randomly grabbed off a shelf, putting her latest romance novel inside it to covertly read. It was called ‘Lost and Found: A Love Story’, the back of it claiming it was about a woman who ‘drops her scarf at a train station but ends up finding something much more meaningful in the woman she bumps into at the lost and found.’ It was exactly as awful as it sounded.

Kara bounded up to the table about 20 minutes later, a coffee cup in each hand and a satchel slung over her shoulder that made her cape bunch up awkwardly. She beamed at Lena and set a coffee down in front of her.

“Guess what I just did.”

Lena slammed the books shut inside each other, scrambling to put her arms over them and rest her chin in her hand casually. “What?”

Kara either didn’t notice or didn’t care, rounding the desk and putting her bag down on it with a grin. “I laservisioned the supports of a broken crane back together using some metal from a billboard and now it’s totally fine for use again.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “What happened to the crane in the first place?”

Kara’s cheeks heated and she looked away, rubbing the back of her neck as she mumbled, “I may have flown into it a little bit.”

She scowled at Lena as Lena started laughing but it was undermined by the way her lips tugged up.

“Oh!” Kara lit up and started rifling through her bag. “I brought you this.”

She held out a book with a bright smile. Lena’s eyes widened as she looked down at the cover of what was very clearly another cheesy romance.

“It’s my favourite love story. It’s a bit like the one you’re reading at the moment but better, in my opinion. I thought you might like it.”

“What?” Lena scoffed. “I wasn’t reading a romance. I was reading…” she glanced over to check what book she had picked up, internally filling with regret as she read the title, but she had already committed to the facade. “The rhyming dictionary.”

Kara was very clearly trying not to laugh. “Ok. Well I’ll just leave this one here. And in case you didn’t know,” she leaned closer to Lena’s ear as she climbed into her seat, and whispered, “I have x-ray vision.”

Lena blushed, refusing to look at Kara’s smug grin. She cleared her throat and moved her books off to the side, along with the one Kara had put down, as casually as possible, and attempted to change the subject.

“So you remembered about weight distribution in support structures?”

Kara paused in taking folders and notes out her bag to turn to Lena excitedly, rambling on about her save, gesturing wildly with her hands.

Lena picked up her coffee as she listened with a soft smile, absentmindedly taking a sip.

She frowned down at the cup. “Is this my usual?”

Kara paused in her rambling. “Yeah. Does it not taste right?”

Lena shook her head, staring back down at her perfect coffee, cheeks heating at the heart drawn in latte art that Kara probably didn’t even have anything to do with. “No I just… I didn’t know you knew my order.”

Kara grinned, raising an eyebrow (Lena should never have taught her how to do that). “Perhaps you’re not as elusive as you think, Lena Luthor.”

———

Lena arrived at the library one Saturday to find Supergirl staring at the front doors like she might set light to them any moment.

“What’s wrong Supergirl? Lose a fight with a door handle?”

Kara turned to her with a pout, pointing at a sign hanging on the other side of the glass. It read ‘Library closed until 23rd due to water damage. Apologies for the inconvenience.’

Lena sighed.

“Where am I going to get my books for this week, Lena? I’m never going to understand civil engineering without them.”

Lena bit the inside of her cheek, the rational part of her brain at war with the part that was helpless to the superhero’s pout. It had to be one of her superpowers because Lena would never admit she was actually soft.

She tore her gaze away, trying to seem casual. “I actually have some engineering textbooks at my apartment. I guess you could borrow them if you wanted.”

Lena squeaked as Supergirl crushed her in a bear hug, lifting her a few inches off the ground. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

Lena laughed, trying to turn it inconspicuously into a cough when a passerby gave a slightly shocked and confused look at the sight of a Luthor and a Super laughing on the library steps. Kara dropped her back to her feet, stepping back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I got excited.”

Lena shook her head with a smile. She turned to go but as she went to gesture for Kara to follow, her hand caught against Kara’s. Her brain misfired and decided in the split second where her index finger hooked onto Kara’s pinkie that the best course of action was to commit to it and simply hold hands. In an attempt to make it seem less affectionate and more practical, she walked off quickly, dragging Kara along in the direction of her apartment.

She could feel Kara’s smile like rays of sun behind her. At least her hair was down to cover up the heat that was creeping up the back of her neck.

Her apartment was only a few minutes from the library. She had to slap Kara’s hand away from the elevator buttons before she pressed them all, marveling at how many floors there were.

“So this is where you live?” Kara looked around the hallway, panicking when she snapped a leaf off of a decorative plant, while Lena unlocked the penthouse door.

Lena pretended not to see her discreetly dropping the leaf into the plant pot but raised an eyebrow at her. “No, Supergirl. I just decided we should come and stare at this random person’s door.”

Kara ignored her, walking past into her apartment and looking down at the city below through the large floor to ceiling windows. “Nice view. I should take you flying sometime - it’s even better from up in the clouds, especially at night.”

Lena closed the front door, trying not to think about romantic flights and being cradled in strong arms. “I’ll go get the textbooks.”

She moved towards her home office, Kara trailing behind in interest. The engineering textbooks were over in the left corner and she scanned the alphabetised section for the ones she wanted.

Kara ran her fingers over the spines of books until Lena was done. She smirked at Lena, letting her hand trail teasingly down the bookshelf before she left. Lena blushed as she realised why. Kara had found her fiction section, over half the books in which were very clearly a certain genre.

Lena groaned and followed her out.

They spent the entire afternoon on the floor around Lena’s coffee table, going through the textbooks, laughing over Kara’s constant puns, and eating the seemingly endless supply of snacks Kara produced from her bag. It wasn’t until the sun had started to set that Lena realised how long they’d spent simply telling jokes and stories.

It was alarmingly easy to just be around Kara. Strangely, Lena didn’t think she minded.

———

Lena frowned as someone knocked on her door. It was a Saturday morning and she was just about to leave to meet Supergirl at the library.

She only grew more confused as she opened the door to see a fluffy white cloud panting happily at her and squirming in her direction. A head poked out from behind it, looking just as happy.

“Lena, hi! Sorry to just turn up but the mean librarian lady threw me out because apparently you aren’t allowed to play fetch in the library.”

Lena stared at the woman currently holding a large puppy in front of her, familiar blonde curls pinned back and glasses slipping down her nose. “…Kara?”

Kara blinked at her for a moment before she seemed to realise. “Oh! Right. Sorry - this is what I look like normally. When I’m not being Supergirl I mean. Alex said I wasn’t allowed to wear the suit all the time because it had to be washed.”

Lena nodded slowly, trying to reconcile the image of this Kara with Supergirl and to not think too hard about the implications of Kara being comfortable enough around her to show her her civilian identity. “Right. Why do you have a dog?”

Kara lit up. “I saved an animal shelter from a fire and they let me adopt this guy. Isn’t he adorable?”

Lena looked at the matching faces of excitement. “Very cute. But why is he here?”

Kara shrugged. “Well I couldn’t leave him after I’d just adopted him so I thought he could join us for our study session?”

Lena crossed her arms and Kara pouted. It was somewhat undermined by the puppy licking her face and making her giggle but Lena was still helpless to resist.

“Ok but he better not mess up any of my stuff.”

“Yes!” Kara grinned, wiggling the puppy excitedly, his ears flopping about.

Kara kissed her cheek on her way into the apartment and Lena’s heart skipped a beat. The puppy licked her in an attempt to join in but even that didn’t stop the way her heart raced.

They settled on the couch, facing each other as Lena quizzed Kara with flashcards. The puppy alternated between curling up in Kara’s lap and zooming around Lena’s living room, falling over his own paws.

“Ok, last one. How do you treat a sprain?”

“Ice it with my freezebreath, wrap it so it’s compressed but not cutting off circulation, keep it elevated.”

Lena grinned proudly. “That’s it! Done.”

Kara threw her hands in the air in delight, squealing as she propelled herself forwards to tackle Lena to the couch. She pulled back just as quickly, pushing up to brace herself over Lena.

“Sorry. I got excited.”

All the breath had deserted Lena’s lungs and she stared up at Kara. A light flush rose on Kara’s cheeks, pale pink against the deep blue of her eyes, bringing out the freckles that dusted her skin.

The flashcards slipped from Lena’s grasp as she surged up to meet Kara’s lips. Kara’s arms almost buckled but she caught herself. And then she was kissing back.

Lena’s hands slid up Kara’s back, practically pulling Kara down on top of her.

They were both breathing hard when they pulled apart, eyes closed and foreheads rested together.

Kara was smiling softly down at her when she finally opened her eyes. She had shifted to hold herself up on one hand and one elbow, her free hand gently stroking back Lena’s hair.

She looked like she was about to say something when she did a double take over the armrest of the couch behind Lena and her soft look turned into a wince. “What was it you said about the puppy not messing up any of your stuff?”

[betweenthepages]

The Cure: Chapter 1

Summary: You get outed to your parents and it doesn’t go so well. But at least you have Jess Mariano.

Word count: 2370

⚠️Warnings⚠️: homophobia, homophobic violence

“Mom? Dad?” You called out, stepping into the silence of your home. You entered the living room and was met with the sight of both your parents seated on the couch. Your father’s gaze fixated on the floor with his hands clasped in front of him, lips drawn in a thin line. Your mother lifted her head in acknowledgment. The TV was off, no conversation being exchanged. Idleness hung in the atmosphere. “What’s going on?” You frowned. “Sit down, (Y/N).” Nervousness bubbled in your chest as you sat across from them. “Did I do something?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

Your dad’s eyes locked with yours. “Are you gay?” The question was completely unexpected. Your eyes widened in confusion. Sweat moistened your palms. “Am I- what?”

“Are. You. Gay. With that Mariano boy?” He gritted his teeth, his voice low to the point of growling. Your muscles tensed and you quickly debated coming clean or denying it. They wouldn’t be too pleased with the knowledge that you liked other boys, especially Jess. Heck you weren’t even allowed to be friends with him. You knew you couldn’t hide it forever. You were planning to let them know once you moved out and were no longer reliant on them. Perhaps deception would work, for now.

“No?” you put on your best act of confusion, “Where are you getting this from?” Your mother whipped her head towards you, eyes filled with a darkness that was completely unfamiliar. Your dad’s face reddened, fists clenched and visibly shaking. Fear clouded your senses. “What are these, then?” Your mother placed some pictures on the coffee table. Pictures of you and Jess. Holding hands and kissing. Your heart sunk to your stomach. “W-Where did you get these...?” Your voice was shaky from restraining tears. “They were left in our mailbox this morning, no envelope or name. How can you explain this (Y/N)?” Your mom scowled. Your throat went dry. Who would do this to you? Who hated you this much? Well, it didn’t matter who had done it, because there was no way to cover it up.

“It’s true, okay? I’m gay, I’ve been seeing Jess for-” You were cut off by a stinging pain on your cheek and a sharp sound echoing the room. Your father loomed over you, nostrils flaring and looking at you with pure hatred. You cowered in his shadow. “I did not raise a gay son! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! All those years of giving you a good life and a roof over your head for nothing! Disgraceful.” You whimpered as he fisted your hair painfully and reared your head back to look up at him. “You are not my son.” He spat. In quick seconds your body painfully collided with the coffee table, pain shooting up your abdomen. You barely had time to catch a breath before you were yanked up and slammed against the wall. Rough, calloused hands, pressing against your windpipe. You squirmed in an useless attempt to flee. Your chest tightened painfully. Your head felt light. You wanted Jess. He would hold you and protect you and take you away from this pain. Black spots dotted your vision and you thought ‘this is it. I’m going to die.’ Seconds before you passed out, the hands removed themselves and you collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath. You cherished the temporary relief of having oxygen in your lungs while it lasted. You were kicked down into a lying position, your father’s heel coming in contact with area that hit the table. Tears cascaded down your swollen cheeks as you curled into yourself. The blows kept coming. You just shut your eyes and took it, holding onto hope that it would end eventually. By the time your dad finally took his foot away, your body was at it’s breaking point. Every breath came with immense pain. Bruises, scrapes and cuts blemished your skin. “You’re going to get up,” your father spoke, “and get the fuck out of my house.” You briefly glanced to your mother standing in the corner, staring at you intently. Her expression was unreadable, but she voiced no protest. You were in no state to be able to pack your belongings. Hopefully you’d be able to return and collect them. Or maybe your parents would destroy them. Right now, it wasn’t your concern. Your dad left to the kitchen, probably to get a beer, and your mother followed suit. Mustering the last ounce of strength you had, you crawled to the front door. With every movement your muscles ached. Holding onto the wall for balance, you carefully rose to your feet. Only grabbing your phone and jacket, you exited onto the pitch black streets.

You limped in the direction of Luke’s Diner, but gave up after a block. You were physically incapable of covering the distance. You quickly dialled Jess’s number, tears blurring your vision. It rang once. Twice. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breathing grew heavy. You felt a panic attack oncoming and you needed to hear Jess’s voice. Please pick up, please pick up. “(Y/N)?” Jess said across the line, voice thick with sleep. “Jess...” you whimpered, words getting caught in your throat. “(Y/N) what’s up? It’s late.”

“I-I need you. I need help. It hurts, Jess.”

“What hurts? What happened?” He was awake now, and seemingly alarmed. “I need an ambulance,” you glanced at the street sign, “I’m on Peach Street. Call them and get here, p-please.” Staying conscious was becoming a struggle. “Okay, okay hold on I’ll make the call.” Jess quickly switched lines and you leaned against the wall, waiting. Watching the stars kept you occupied. You were about to close your eyes until the blaring of a siren approached. You could vaguely recognise a car following behind it. As it neared, you recognised it as Luke’s pick up truck. You couldn’t see Jess’s face, but knowing that he came provided some relief. Jess got to you before the paramedics did. Warm hands cupped your battered face and soft caresses ghosted your skin. . “(Y/N), god what happened?” You chuckled bitterly. “Mom and dad found out about us. I’ll explain later. It didn’t go so well though.” You clutched your side. Talking was painful. Jess was about to say something but the paramedics told him to back away so they could load you into a stretcher. “Sir? Sir try to stay awake please.” Said a female paramedic as your eyelids drooped. Jess was out of your vision, but you could make out his voice shouting over them, asking to come on the ambulance. Of course that privilege wouldn’t be extended to non-family. Luke told him to buckle up and he’ll drive them there. You were exhausted, and the pain in your body was unbearable. Your allowed your eyes to shut, darkness replacing the blinding ambulance lights.

Jess and Luke sat in the waiting room, anxiously awaiting news about your condition. Jess’s leg was shaking and he seemed distanced in his thoughts. He had told Luke on the way that this had something to do with your parents. He’s had his fair share of beatings from Liz’s boyfriends, but he was struck with disbelief knowing someone could cause this much damage to their own child. The doctor emerged. “How is he?” Luke asked. “He has 3 broken ribs, internal bleeding, several deep cuts, contusions and a dislocated jaw. But he’s no longer in critical condition. It’s good we got to him when we did, or it may have been too late.” Jess‘s eyes widened and his blood ran cold. Luke thanked the doctor and bid him goodbye, then focused his attention on his distressed nephew. “T-They almost killed him...” Jess whispered, eyes widened and watery. Luke sighed, pulling the boy into a side hug. In truth, he was just as worried as your boyfriend was. He was accepting your relationship and cared for you. Ever since you’d come into Jess’s life, his immature ways and short temper had ceased. His school attendance went up as well as his grades. The sarcastic remarks and witty insults weren’t going away anytime soon, but Luke knew there was a mutual love between him and his nephew. And he knew you meant the absolute world to Jess. “You heard the doctors. He’ll be okay. He’s strong.” He rubbed the teen’s shoulder in consolation.

Patients and visitors entered and exited the hospital doors while Luke and Jess sat in silence. The clock was about to strike 1am yet they were more awake than ever. Jess hadn’t particularly liked your parents previously, but now his hatred for them ran deep. Upon his first arrival to Stars Hollow, they had advised you to keep your distance because word of his troublemaking antics spread fast. But you with your sweet, kind soul was willing to give him a chance.

A nurse approached them. “(Y/N) (L/N) is awake. You can see him now.” Jess bounded to his feet, swiftly stepping to your room without waiting for Luke to follow. He paused abruptly at your door and took a breath. Your head turned at the sound of the door slowly creaking open. Jess stepped in, and a feeling of warmth evaded your body despite the chill of the hospital room. You shifted to make room for him on the bed. Without a word, he embraced you. Careful not to hurt you, he rested his head on your shoulder, and the cloth of the gown dampened. “Jess.” You cooed, rubbing his back. “I almost lost you...” he mumbled. “I-It’s okay. I’m not okay, but I will be. The hospital staff are doing their best.” You attempted a smile but it hurt your face. Jess pulled away with a sigh, calloused hand cupping your cheek. “I want to know what happened. Not now, if you don’t feel like it. When you’re ready.”

“Well, I got home and my mom showed these pictures someone took of us kissing. She said they were left in the mailbox by an anonymous. I told them that I’m gay and that we’re dating, and... yeah.” You averted your gaze to you and Jess’s intertwined hands, playing with his fingers. Jess furrowed his brows. “Why would anybody-” You cut him off. “I don’t care about that now Jess. It’s all so much, I’m gonna see a social worker and the police, I don’t know where I’m going to live, people are gonna talk about what happened. Plus I’m tired and everything’s sore.” You felt like crying again before Jess shushed you, carding his hands through your hair and kissing your cheek. “Hey hey, (Y/N) I’m sorry. Calm down.” He readjusted to a laying position and carefully guided you into laying down on top of him, using his toned chest as a pillow. “I love you. So much. We can figure everything out later, just get some sleep. It’s almost midnight.”

“I want you to stay and be there when I wake up.” You said. “Okay.” Jess smiled. There was a cough, you both turned to see Luke in the doorway. “Well, I’ll leave you guys alone and uh, Jess I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.” He nodded, “Goodnight (Y/N), call me if you need anything.” You smiled at him and bid your goodbyes, before it was back to just you and your boyfriend. Jess leaned over to turn off the light. “I love you, Jess.” You said into the darkness. He responded with a long kiss to your forehead.

Jess woke up first. The hospital staff hadn’t arrived yet, so he wouldn’t get in trouble. He pressed light kisses on your forehead until your eyes fluttered open. “Morning.” He smirked. “Morning,” you grumbled, nuzzling into him. “What’s going on today?” He asked. “I explained the cause of my injuries to the doctor and now I’ve got to talk to the authorities. Then I’m seeing a social worker and doing some paperwork.”

“Where you going to stay?” Jess asked softly.

“If my parents get arrested then I’ll probably get sent to a foster home.” You sighed. “Is that what you want?” Jess frowned. “No, not at all. I mean, no way I’m living with my parents again, but also idea the of going with strangers...” you trailed off, focusing on drawing shapes on his chest. “Move into the diner.” Jess said without no hesitation. “Jess you know I can’t-”

“Yes you can! Really (Y/N), we can talk to Luke about it.”

“Talk to me about what?” Luke stood in the doorway wearing a questioning expression. “Sorry, I was going to knock but I overheard my name.” He chuckled. “Can (Y/N) stay with us?” Jess asked. “Jess no-“

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” Luke shrugged. “I- what?” You turned to Luke in shock. “We can make that arrangement, if that’s what you want (Y/N). You’re at the diner most of the time anyways.” It was true. You always stayed over with Jess and had dates at the diner to keep your relationship discreet. “Well yes, but being a permanent occupant is completely different.” You frowned. “Hey kid, your parents are real shitty people. This is a hard time for you. I have a feeling you don’t want to end up in the foster care system, so this is one less problem to deal with.” He said.

Jess spoke up, “(Y/N), I’m okay with it, and Luke is okay with it. So why the hell not?” You felt like crying again. You practically pounced on Jess babbling a string of ‘thank you’s and peppering kisses on his face in between. He laughed heartily, rubbing your back. Luke observed with a tender smile. “Thank you Luke, really.”

“No problem kid.” He gently placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to seem as less threatening as possible. “Jess and I have to go, the staff are gonna be here any minute. But rest up okay?” You nodded. Jess really didn’t want to leave, you assured him visiting hours were long and regular. Eventually he pulled away and you shared one last kiss before he was out of sight.

[l4verq]

almost yours | s. r & b.b

pre-serum steve x reader, bucky x reader

in which you’re sure you’ll fall for bucky soon enough

warnings : angst, mentions of death, war, fights

fic : oneshot?

masterlist

|| gif by @go-fandom-imagines ||

-

“I can do this all day.”

You roll your eyes cause you know he can’t.

“No, he can’t.” You trudge in between the filth, your peep-toe heels doing little to help you walk.

On closer inspection, the man is clearly intoxicated. He has his hands squared up, body swaying slightly but firmly planted infront of Steve.

You know he’s already had a few punches in judging by the bruises on his knuckles and the cuts on Steve’s face.

Steve mutters a silent curse as he sees you walking up to them.

Why did you always have to see him in such a pathetic state like this?

You give a stern look at him like always and he can’t meet your eyes every damn time.

“Who are you?” The man slurs, the smell of alcohol almost suffocating you.

“His friend.” You lift your neck a little higher as you meet the man’s eyes, your heart beating out of your chest.

Friend. Of course, that’s what he is to you.

“Y/N.” Steve steps in between, shielding you from the man.

You’re about to give him a piece of your mind when you’re shoved back roughly, falling into a pile of trash.

“A broad should know better than to meddle in men’s business.” The man wags his finger before repeatedly hitting Steve who’s yelling at you to run.

You hastily unstrap your heels and fling it across with a smack against the man’s back.

But the punches don’t stop.

“Stop, you stupid geezer.” You scream, grabbing his hair and thrashing your arms around, hoping you get a solid punch in.

“Hey!” The man slips away from your grasp as Bucky grabs him and pulls him away from the both of you.

“Pick on somebody your size.” He snarls, ramming his arm into the man’s body, making him double over in pain.

The man staggers off and Bucky turns to face the both of you, anger evident in his eyes.

“I don’t want to hear it.” He objects as soon as you open your mouth.

“Steve, you good?”

“I’ll live.”

You two share a sheepish smile as Bucky helps him up.

“Okay, just so you know, this thing you guys have with getting beat up in alleys is stupid and moronic.” Bucky huffs, hands on his hips, foot tapping the ground impatiently.

“I was just trying to help Steve.”

“I didn’t need any help.”

“Says the guy who’s just had his ass handed to him.”

“Okay, funtime’s over. You have an aptitude test today, we can’t be late.” Bucky intervenes, retrieving your heel.

“Go to the hospital!” You shriek as Steve limps his way out.

He never stayed. He never could.

Because he didn’t like his thoughts when he’d see you and Bucky together.

Bucky sighs, kneeling on the ground, with your heel in hand.

He glances at you for approval before strapping on your heel for you.

“Thank you.” You mumble, a dull ache spreading throughout your elbows as the adrenaline subsides.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asks, concern in his eyes.

This is when you hate yourself the most. Disgusted with yourself because you can’t bring yourself to accept the unconditional love that he has for you. Disgusted that you keep telling yourself you’ll fall for him soon enough.

“I’m fine.” You lie, something fairly common to you.

-

“Still mad?” Steve sits next to you, hands shoved in his jacket.

You notice he did go to the hospital, judging by the white bandage on his hand peeking out.

“Maybe.”

He smiles but it quickly turns into a grimace, the cuts on his lips still healing.

“Heard you got in.” You continue, transfixed on his blue eyes.

“Had to see the look on your father’s face. Priceless.”

The two of you burst out laughing, his face contorted in a mix of pain and laughter making you laugh even more.

Your father, Colonel Chester Philips had made it clear on several occasions that Steve would never make it in the army despite your best attempts to convince him otherwise.

“Don’t forget about me when you get all buffed up and go off fighting scary men.” You joke, half serious.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

There it starts again. The stupid fluttering in your heart as you dare to think his gaze at you right now means anything more. And the guilt that floods in right after.

“You two take care of each other.” You both look over at Bucky waving at you from the registration office.

Childhood friends, you’d never known life without the two of them. And now both of them were leaving to possibly never return.

“We’ll be back before you know it.” He gives a soft smile because he knows how much you hate that he’s going too. How much you hate the war. How much you hate that your father’s never home.

He’d made up his mind about this years ago when he realised an asthmatic 90 pound man wasn’t exactly the ladies’ man but the butt of the joke and an easy prey for bullies.

And he didn’t like bullies.

But right now, the way you’re looking at him, his heart wavers a little.

“We are all set to go. You have been assigned to Camp Lehigh.” Bucky arrives, waving a form at Steve.

Your heart drops as it sinks in that they have to leave now. Tears spring to your eyes which you try to blink away.

“I’ll write you whenever I can.” Steve gets up, eyes glossy.

“You’d better.” You smile at him, an uncomfortable ache growing in your heart.

You almost give in to embracing him but the rock on your left hand weighs you down.

He lingers around for a while, perhaps thinking the same. But, he gives a smile, walking away towards the office.

“He’ll be okay,” Bucky reassures you, placing his hands on your shoulders, “Steve’s a tough cookie.”

You look up at your fiance, a lump forming in your throat.

“I’m going to miss you two.” You bite down on your quivering lip as a single tear trickles down your cheek.

God, were you beautiful, he thinks, gently wiping your tears away.

He hated leaving you, each time hurting quite possibly even more than the previous.

If you’d just ask him to stay, he’d leave everything right then and there all for you.

But you never do.

He leans in and you think he doesn’t catch the slight clench of your jaw but he does, everytime.

Each time, he rationalises it in his head, chiding himself for overanalysing.

Cause it’d hurt to think otherwise.

A ghost of a kiss on your forehead you barely feel as you force yourself to swallow the growing lump.

-

The mornings were tolerable.

A few chores here and there. Breakfast if you felt like it. Maybe drop by the salon, have a little chat with the girls.

You kept busy, finding faults in your own cleaning everytime. A spot you definitely missed while cleaning yesterday, you immediately attend to it, scrubbing away.

Sometimes, your father stopped by during the late afternoons, carrying a bag of fresh produce from the local market.

He’d little to say about Steve’s training, gruffly humming whenever you enquired.

Then, you’d have dinner with him, pretending that it wasn’t awkward having an empty seat across you that once belonged to your mother.

The last time you saw your father smile was during your engagement to Bucky. He’d pulled you in a tight embrace, wordless.

It wasn’t like this before.

He actually stayed home, smiled often and had a spark in his eyes.

But after your mother passed, it felt like he was just going through the motions everyday. Buried himself in more work, drowned himself in alcohol somedays.

You couldn’t blame him. You were no better, bottling up your own feelings.

But you wished he’d remember he still had you.

The nights were unbearable.

More often than not, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, heart still racing from the nightmares that plagued your mind.

Then, the worries’d take over.

The war was unforgiving and cruel and you’d pray every night that they wouldn’t fall victim to it.

The shiny rock on your hand catches your eye as it glistens in the moonlight. It’s a thin, silver band with a delicate diamond on top.

You felt like an impostor wearing it.

But, you’d gotten used to it. You’d just remember your mother’s wish, the way Bucky’s face broke out into a smile when you said yes and your father’s brief moment of happiness.

It didn’t help when you remembered Steve.

You don’t really know what you were expecting when you gave him the news. Maybe, you wanted to see if he’d be affected by it? If he felt the same way for you as you did him?

“I’m happy for you two.”

He had the biggest smile on his face as he tugged around with Bucky, teasing him.

But his eyes. You could swear you saw a flicker of sadness in them for just a split second or maybe you were just delusional, projecting your own feelings.

Most probably, the latter.

You pull the neatly folded up letter from your drawer, opening it for the umpeethn time.

Skimming over the scrawlings, your eyes land at the very end where Steve promises to return in the next few days.

You’d received the letter three weeks ago.

Your father’d informed you that Steve’d agreed to an experiment, where he’d be injected with a serum that would apparently make him a super soldier of some sorts.

“Is it safe?”

The grim silence that followed twisted your insides up into knots.

“We don’t know.” Your father grunted, the greying on his hair more prominent.

The following week he came bearing news of Steve’s successful transformation. That he’d grown two feet taller and more than a hundred pounds heavier.

You muttered a silent thank you to God as the coil in your stomach loosened.

“Do you want to see them?” Your father looks up at you from the table, eyes not leaving his newspaper.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. Not after he’d failed as a father. He’d done a lot wrong but the worst was dissappointing you each time you welcomed him back with a warm meal and forgiving eyes.

You nod, a small smile breaking out at the thought of them.

One of the few privileges that came with being the daughter of a Colonel was to be able to go to the Army base closed off to everyday people.

That evening, Bucky arrived, daisies in hand cause he knows how much you like them.

“For my daisy.” He’d say everytime, a grin plastered on his face as you’d roll your eyes, unable to hold back a smile.

You carefully place the letter back into your drawer and crawl under your blanket, hoping to cram in some sleep.

Travelling to Camp Lehigh would take the entire day on a train and you could never really fall asleep anywhere but your own bed.

-

Envy.

The green eyed monster that doesn’t seem to leave your shoulders as your gaze flickers over to them.

A total of atleast six different women have made their rounds, tossing their hair and giggling when he leans in to say something in their ears cause the music’s a little too loud.

But who could blame them?

Steve stood tall at an impressive 6.1 feet, a far cry from the 5.4 he used to be. Though clothed, anyone could see the mass of muscles bulging out, the suit straining whenever he raised his arm.

The first time you saw him, you were speechless.

Bucky had emphasized on the drastic change in Steve’s appearance but you were still taken aback, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

Everything about him was so different yet his eyes still had that twinkle to them that you always swooned over.

You down your fourth shot in a row, throat burning.

Did she really have to feel his shield and kn-

“Dance with me?” Bucky gives a coy smile, eyebrow quirked up.

Taking his extended hand, he chuckles as you wobble sightly while getting up.

“Someone had a lot to drink.” He comments, guiding you to the dance floor.

A hand slightly above your waist, the other holding your own, Bucky was always a great dancer.

You always let him take the lead as he swayed you back and forth, always managing to expertly avoid stepping on your dress.

You start to regret the alcohol, your head spinning a little.

He seems to notice and lulls down to a gentle pace, holding you tight. You lean into his chest, breathing in the sweet musk that’s just so, Bucky.

He calls your name, barely above a whisper, which you probably wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t so close to him.

You hum in reply, head now leaning on his shoulder.

“Remember that time you got mad at me,”

“and you came crying to me, begging for forgiveness.” You finish his sentence, chuckling.

A throaty laugh rumbles from his chest as well.

“And we promised that we’d never lie to each other anymore.”

You lift your head, to see a soft smile playing on his lips.

“It’s time you kept that promise.” His eyes trails over to Steve.

The low tune that crooned on fades out as a ringing in your ears take over. You could only stare at him, paralysed.

It takes him everything he has in him to stay composed. But he has to do this.

“Tell him, before it’s too late.” He whispers, an urgency in his voice.

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill any moment.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about me.” He reassures you, taking your hands in his.

Shuffling bodies bump into you as you look away, incapable of holding his stare.

If only you’d known it would be the last time you saw him.

-

It’s the last thing he wants to do.

But he tells you anyway that he has to leave. That he needs to go.

Ever since Bucky fell to his death, Steve knew nothing but revenge. All he could really think about was taking down Hydra.

When you found out about Bucky, you’d done the same thing you always did.

Bottle your grief, pushing it down and down and keep busy.

Steve knew this too so he was patient, never poked around too much, lent a shoulder to cry on.

He often blamed himself, the event still haunting him at night, his own mind locking him in an endless tunnel.

But you’d always be there, at the end of it, a dim light that led him out.

“Just don’t die on me.” You whisper, hand grasping onto his jacket as he turned to leave.

This time, you don’t think twice before embracing him.

You want to keep him right there, safe with you.

And he probably would stay if you asked enough but you know he has to do this.

You just wanted to be selfish for once.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He wraps his hands around your waist, allowing himself to bask in your arms for a while.

As he pulls away, his face is so close that you can see the golden flecks splattered throughout his blue eyes, forming a psychedelic pattern that seemed to only hypnotise you.

He leans in before stopping himself, eyes flickering down to your slightly parted lips.

You can’t help but stare at his too.

But, the both of you awkwardly pull away, perhaps both appalled by their own selfish thoughts.

He couldn’t do this to his bestfriend ; you’d always be Bucky’s, not his.

As he leaves with the soldiers, the coil in your stomach tightens even more, heart sinking when he fades out of view.

You immediately station yourself at the air traffic controller office, where you man a radio transceiver.

It’s a large room filled with machines and a screen that displays the plane that he took.

It’s a long, long while before the transceiver crackles, a familiar voice blaring off it.

“Steve?” You grab it, almost jumping out of your seat.

The screen shows the plane heading north, further beyond the grid.

You think he called your name too but it’s barely audible.

Then, you hear it.

The whistling of the wind. The rattling of the controls.

The screen blares a warning when the plane doesn’t seem to stop going down.

“Steve, get out of there now!” You beg as it sinks in that he doesn’t plan to.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” His voice breaks.

“No, come back to me, please.” The room grows smaller and smaller as the air suffocates you.

A distorted reply arrives.

Your heart breaks at the thought of him all alone in that plane, headed for his death.

“I never really said thank you for all the times you beat up my bullies.”

You smile, swallowing the lump in your throat.

A surge of courage runs through your body as you say the words you’ve wanted to say to him ever since you discovered what love even was.

“Steve, I love you.”

But the line goes dead.

-

a/n : idk wtf this is, it was better in my head lol, might fk around and make this into a mini series😬 also tfatws🤑😈

[mrs-gucci]

Spousal Privilege {Henry McHenry x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! I deleted the original request accidentally, but essentially, it was the prompt written below, but instead of getting married for tax benefits, you get married because he needs you to help keep him out of jail/the courtroom for Ann’s murder. 

**just because I write it doesn’t mean I condone it. writing a fictional piece and condoning are two very different things. this is fanFICTION.**

original prompt (from @dailyau): “we got married for tax benefits, but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. However, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.” (slightly modified) prompt: “we got married for [the benefit of spousal privilege], but but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. however, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.”

warnings: angst & smut. not-so-mutual feelings. non-con elements (but they’re not unwelcomed). taking advantage of someone else’s feelings for you to benefit sexually. masturbation. (kind of) mutual masturbation.

tw’s: consumption/use of alcohol (briefly mentioned). !!non-con somnophilia. !!non-con voyerism.

word count: 2.4k

“Spousal Privilege”: if you’re married, your spouse cannot be forced to testify against you in a court of law.

my taglist peeps (slashed through means that the username didn’t tag): @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​  @gildedstarlight​ @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy @I-can’t-draw-faces (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

“It’s just one weekend, Henry. One weekend. We have to at least pretend to be married.”

He sighs, reclining on the large lounger on the back deck, rolling an unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “Y/N...you know that I can’t come with you. I’ve got a show this weekend; I can’t just skip my own show to be your plus-one at a wedding.”

It feels like you’re the only one actually trying to appear as a couple, since your union is a sham. You made the grave mistake of visiting the McHenry residence on the night of Ann’s murder, finding a blood-spattered and disheveled Henry with his hand on the butchers knife impaling her chest.

And then, a few weeks later, your friendship became a marriage. You knew Henry was a good guy, and you’ve been friends with him a very long time, so...you helped him out by becoming the second Mrs. McHenry in order to protect him in case of a criminal trial. Spousal privilege is a powerful weapon in the judicial system, one that Henry successfully secured. 

Almost a year has passed since that fateful night, and the police investigation has all but stopped due to lack of evidence. The only living people who know what happened are you and him.

The worst part of it, though? You’ve fallen for him, hard. Sure, he’s been your friend since high school, but you never thought of him as partner material before. But, now that you live with him and spend lots of time together, you realize that he’s an amazing guy that you really feel connected to.

Unfortunately, he’s not in love with you, and probably never will be. But, you soldier on, putting your feelings on the backburner for the sake of the false union.

Henry sticks the cigarette between his teeth, the familiar flick of the lighter slicing the tension between you. He takes a long drag, exhaling loudly.

“Fine. But at least I’m actually trying to make this whole arrangement seem real. At this point, I’m the only one trying at all.” You huff, shaking your head as you walk back into the house.

-

You arrive at the large rented house for the bridal party, greeted by several of your closest friends as you walk through the door. Immediately, they ask about Henry, and you tell them that he won’t be joining you this weekend, that he has a show that he just can’t miss.

They’re understanding, of course, knowing of Henry’s blossoming career as a comedian. You spend the rest of the afternoon catching up with your friends, who seemed to be acting a bit strangely. They’re looking towards the lobby religiously, seemingly waiting for someone to arrive.

Probably just one of their boyfriends or husbands, you think, dismissing it with little thought as the waiter comes over with a tray of cocktails.

It’s nearly midnight when you finally head back up to your room, eyelids heavy as you fumble with the key and open the door. You’re startled when you see a large shadowy figure sitting on the queen bed. 

You quickly flip the lights on to reveal the mysterious figure’s identity.

“Henry? What are you doing here?”

He stands, grabbing a small bouquet of flowers before bringing them over to you.

“I’m sorry for being so unreasonable about this trip, Y/N. You’re right, I haven’t been trying as hard as I can to spend ‘couple’ time with you lately. And I know how important this trip is, so...I postponed my show to next weekend in order to be here with you.”

You’re unable to stop the grin that spreads across your face at this genuinely kind gesture that he’s done for you. You take the flowers from his outstretched hand.

“Wow, this is...thank you, Henry.” You meet his eyes. “I mean it, thank you. I’m, uh, I’m glad you’re here.”

His cheeks are dusted pink as he looks down at the carpeted floor, running a hand through his hair.  “It’ll be nice to spend some time together, I think. We’ve been a bit disconnected lately, off doing our own stuff without really connecting all that often.”

You nod in agreement, filling one of the hotel glasses with lukewarm water for the flowers. You set them on the desk, then look over at the bed. 

Bed, not beds. 

“I...I can ask for a different room. She just put us in here because she knows we’re married...”

He shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. We’ll make do.”

You’re a bit surprised by his mellow, chilled reaction to the situation. You thought surely he’d want to change rooms, since the two of you have never shared a bed before. 

Really, at home, you’re just roommates; each having your own separate living spaces. But of course, your friend Jen doesn’t know of the...unique aspects of your outwardly loving union, like the fact that it’s not genuine.

Both of you quietly unpack your things into the shared dresser. You keep your pajamas out and after you place your emptied duffle in the closet, you shed your top and bottoms, leaving you in just your undergarments. 

When you turn around to grab your pajamas, you catch Henry looking at you, a fact that brings a sheepish warmth to your cheeks. He was shirtless, standing in only his black jeans, which has you quite flustered. Henry’s very much in shape, you’re painfully aware of that in the moment, and you can’t help but let your gaze fall to his chiseled abdomen.

His eyes quickly dart away from you, as yours do from him, and his cheeks turn pink. He continues folding his clothes, putting them in the top two drawers of the dresser. You bite your lip as you grab your pajamas and head into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The mirror blurs with steam from the hot water as it emerges from the shower head. You’re quick to peel the panties from your hips and the bra from your chest, tossing both on the tiled floor before stepping under the steaming stream. 

You groan softly as the hot water massages your tired muscles. The ache between your thighs is anything but soothed by the water, though, and your mind is playing the sight of Henry’s sculpted body on a loop, only intensifying your arousal.

It’s gotten to the point where the need for a bit of relief is inevitable, despite your efforts to prevent it.

Your hand trails down and dips between your legs, fingertips sliding around your slickened folds, attempting to locate the special bundle of nerves nestled beneath.

Breath hitching, you sigh softly as you begin rubbing it in small, lazy circles. Small gasps and moans escape your lips as the flames of your arousal are flamed with each swipe of your fingertips.

Unbeknownst to you, Henry has abandoned his putting-away efforts in favor of standing outside the bathroom door. He’s heard a few soft, muffled noises coming from the room, so he decided to approach and make sure that nothing’s wrong.

His length twitches to life beneath his jeans as he realizes what exactly it is those noises mean, what you're likely doing in there. He wonders, as he reaches down to cup his swelling arousal, if this was brought on by the sight of his naked torso.

You exhale shakily, lining up and pushing two fingers into your wet heat, biting your lip to try and suppress the gasp that escapes your throat. 

Henry grunts softly upon hearing this slip-up, shaky hands fiddling with his belt buckle, then with the button and zipper on his pants. He pulls his cock out in a rushed manner, ear pressing against the door while his hand starts to move up and down his shaft.

He hears something come from behind the door, but it’s too muffled by the wood that he can’t make out exactly what you said, which is probably a good thing.

“F-Fuck...Henry.” You breathe quietly, moving your digits in and out of your entrance swiftly, curling them up sporadically in order to tease your g-spot. “Shit.”

A low growl slips out as his length hardens further with his hand’s movements, slit starting to drool semi-transparent beads of liquid. He slicks them down his shaft, allowing his calloused palm to glide easier.

Your release quickly builds up inside you, hips jerking and twitching instinctively each time your fingers stimulate the special spot on your inner walls. It’s not long before you’re cumming all over your fingers with a series of soft moans and whines.

These small noises meet his ears and, within a minute, Henry reaches his own climax. He covers his mouth, a long groan muffled by the skin of his palm as ropes of seed spill out all over his palm and some onto the doorframe.

He rushes to wipe the evidence of his release from the scene, scrambling to grab his dirty t-shirt in order to do so. He hears you stepping out of the shower and quickly tucks himself back into his pants, running over to sit on his bed.

You emerge from the bathroom a minute or so later with only a towel on. He avoids eye contact, gathering his own clothes and heading into the bathroom for a quick shower.

You’re already tucked into bed and reading when Henry comes out of the bathroom in his boxers, ruffling his hair with the towel once more time before hanging it back up on the bathroom hook. 

After finishing a chapter, you tuck your bookmark back between the pages before setting it down on your bedside table, turning the lamp off. You doze off soon after.

Henry waits patiently, very patiently, until he’s absolutely sure you’re fast asleep. His cock twitches and stirs in his boxers as he thinks about his plan of attack, how he’ll do this without waking you.

He knows this is wrong, but he just can’t help himself; it’s been too long and his hand simply isn’t doing this trick anymore. And you are his wife, after all.

His fingers reach under the covers, experimentally dragging his hand up your exposed thigh. You don’t seem to really mind, but an innocent-enough thigh touch and his cock inside you are two very different things.

So, he figures that he should probably try his fingers first. At least that’d be easier to explain in the event that you wake up and find him knuckle-deep in your cunt.

Sure, he thinks you’re physically attractive, objectively, but he doesn’t have any more than sexual feelings for you. You’re his best friend and he wants to keep it that way.

But...all that can wait until tomorrow. For now, he needs this from you; he desperately needs this.

You’re laying on your front, so he’s careful as he mounts you from behind, gently encouraging your legs apart with his knee. Once you’re spread apart enough, he slips his hand down to cup your crotch, biting his lip when he feels the natural heat already present. 

He smirks, slipping his fingers between your pussy lips, searching for the spot that’ll get you nice and wet for him. Your hips naturally surge upwards when he finds it, a small grunt escaping your lips, but you remain asleep.

A breath of relief slips through the gaps of his perfectly crooked teeth as he continues rubbing you. It’s not long before you become slick, providing the natural lubricant for his fingers to glide easier.

His fingers begin to tease your puckered entrance, and he slowly slides one of the thick digits in, groaning under his breath as you clench so tightly around him. 

“Little slut. Wants it even in her sleep.” He muses with a devious smirk, beginning to move his finger in and out with great care and caution.

You moan softly, subconsciously spreading your legs wider for him. He shudders with arousal at this simple movement, palming his hardened cock over the thin material of his boxers while a second finger joins the first inside of you.

He’s so hard, he almost can’t see straight, absolutely loving the way you react to his touch. You’re fast asleep, unaware of his touch; and yet, you’re still soaked and squirming for him. There’s something so deliciously wrong about this that makes him throb.

Soon, he can’t hold himself back anymore. He pulls his cock from beneath the airy fabric, stroking himself as he allows his hand to run over your backside. His jaw clenches, suppressing the moans that so desperately want to come out.

Finally, the moment of truth. Will you wake up when he slides in?

The buzz, the adrenaline rush he’s getting from this is practically unmatched by anything in his day-to-day life. Not even his shows, his performances bring him this much of a rush.

He lines himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly, biting down on his lip hard as a soft groan slips out. You’re so tight, so wet, so hot, so perfect. 

You moan loudly, body and hips wriggling as your insides adjust to his length and thickness. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stay still, to let you adjust to the sudden intrusion. He wants nothing more than to pound you into the mattress and cum deep inside you, but he can’t do either of those things.

His hips roll softly, gently, cock dragging against your walls at an almost painfully slow pace. Your walls clench so tightly around him and he has to white-knuckle the headboard in order to keep himself centered and restrained.

You’re stirring a bit, but you’re still asleep, and Henry feels his climax already starting to build. Normally he’d be ashamed of this fact, but it’s probably best if he doesn’t drag this out.

The little noises escaping your lips only spur Henry on, each of your little grunts, groans, whimpers and moans are like music to his ears. 

With only a few more thrusts, combined with the sight of your ass jiggling each time his skin collides with yours, Henry’s cumming. He pulls out in the knick of time, shooting his seed all over your little pajama shorts, secretly hoping his cum stains them.

He strokes himself through orgasm, riding out his high to its fullest before re-adjusting your shorts and tucking himself back into his boxers, laying down next to you.

A soft sigh leaves his lips as he catches his breath, flipping over and sitting to grab the pack of cigarettes from the bedside table, heading out to the small balcony. 

Plumes of gray smoke linger in the still summer night as Henry looks out onto the lake, admiring the soft moonlight reflecting off the bouncing water. He comes back in after a few minutes and climbs back into bed, eyes fluttering shut.

Maybe being married to you wasn’t so bad, after all.

[ktheist]

CEO!JK + - prompt list - + #47 “You’re seriously like a man-child.”

“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

“you’re seriously like a man child.”

muses. ceo!jk 

genre. e2l / arranged marriage

word. 2.6k

warnings. implied smut

synopsis. your family legacy is falling into ruins. your father is on his deathbed and your mother and sisters have never worked a day in their lives. their only hope is the jeons - the family of the fiancé you abandoned.

x

it can’t be said that you know nothing of jeon jeongguk per se. for one, he was lightly nudged in your direction by his mother at the age of 6 because he’d been hiding behind her legs since the jeon’s arrived. clad in navy blue kindergarten uniform and gripping tightly onto the brown teddy bear he uncreatively called ‘teddy’, he’d stolen a glance at you for a split second and fixed his gaze to the ground.

“____, say hi to jeongguk, you’re going to be seeing each other often from now on,” your mother nudged you from behind, her voice awfully sweet in the presence of mrs. jeon and her extremely shy son.

you’d found out at 11 years old and him 13 years old, what ‘seeing each other often’ actually entailed.

“i don’t wanna marry you!” you’d screamed in his face when you were left alone by the adults.

“i don’t wanna marry a kid with snot running down her face 24/7 either.” jeongguk’s retort, though held no substance, still made you wipe your nose on your sleeve after you’d left him and locked yourself in your room.

at the age of 13 and him 15, you’d managed to escape the clutches of your family by proposing the idea of attending a prestigious boarding school in zurich where you’d spent most of your adolescent years skipping classes and crashing parties.

by 18, you wanted to laugh at your teachers’ relieved faces when your name was called to receive your diploma, marking the end of your great era in that school.

that was when your mother called you back to south korea, claiming that she’d missed her youngest so very much. but you’d continued to make excuses to stay in zurich, applying for a scholarship and getting into a local university there.

none of your friends knew anyone from home and you’d only passingly mentioned that ‘oh, i don’t talk to my family much’.

but just as you were finishing your degree, the news of your father in his death bed latched onto your limbs and had you hopping onto the first flight home.

“what do you mean? so we’re broke?” yuqi’s voice cut through the air like a knife. even her ray bans couldn’t hide her burning gaze.

to think you willingly walked into this mess of a family.

“yuqi, let dad speak,” miyeon glares.

minnie asks after a lapse of silence, “dad, what do you mean the company’s wounding up?”

your father, a man with greying hair and cheeks losing most of their fullness, stares at nothing but the ceiling, as if seeing the angels welcoming him.

“do you remember uncle jee?” even breathing seems difficult for a man that used to work out everyday at the private gym and always invited you to join in on his healthy lifestyle, “he transferred all the company’s assets to his name and fled the country. even his family doesn’t know-”

“oh, for heaven’s sake!” your mother cries, shooting up from the sofa farthest from the bed - you should have known something was wrong when a wife wasn’t waiting by her husband’s bed and took the seat that’s on the far end from her husband, “just admit that it’s your fault! you trusted him too much even though i warned you about him! you ruined this family!”

“i should’ve brought popcorns,” soyeon says from next to you, shooting you an unapologetic - heck, even entertained smile - when you craned your neck out of mild disbelief.

this family’s a little fucked up in the head.

but they call you the black sheep that got away.

“so what now? do we have to... work?” soojin asks, a horrified look spreading across her face.

those several inches nails aren’t made for work. that’s for sure.

“the jeons...,” he coughs, “jeongguk promised to help us rebuild the family business because my father - your grandfather, supported the jeons when they were starting out.”

all of a sudden, seven pairs of eyes turn to you as if you’re the rabbit in a cage full of wolves. the air turns chilly as if someone’s turned the ac to a minus degrees celcius.

“well, don’t look at me, i haven’t talked to him for 9 years,” despite your hands held up and your shoulders almost making your neck shrink into your body, all they see is a little gold piggy bank.

“what? what about the times when we talked on the phone? you sounded so close!” your mother’s source of rage shifts to you.

“well, i mean, he’s pretty active on instagram-” you couldn’t even properly finish your sentence when a hand lands on your shoulder and you’re staring into your reflection in yuqi’s ray bans.

“start talking,” her cherry lips curl as she holds out your phone that you don’t even notice she’s swiped out of your hand bag which, “hey, how did you-” you remembered was zipped shut.

x

“you got something to tell me?” the jeongguk before you wears a smirk that exudes confidence and billion dollar legacy backing him up.

no longer the shy kid that avoids the gaze of those he’s not used to and keeps his head hung low. if anything, his chin is looking too tilted for your liking. though you can’t say the same for the muscles that fill out his suit and wraps around his biceps a little too snug.

he’s finally foregone the side swiped bangs and grew it enough to have it tied back into a man bun, enhancing his sharp jawline and proving once and for all that puberty isn’t just for anyone.

the hesitant hum reverberates against your chest. you can only hope that it’s not audible for persons besides yourself, “you look great.”

his head drops as he chuckles but you can still see the way his jaw clenches, cutting off every humor that’s ever present before looking straight at you through his lashes, “can’t say the same for you.”

you resist the urge to shoot up, handle of your handbag tucked in the juncture between your arm and forearm and strut out of the restaurant without looking back.

“that rotten attitude of yours hasn’t changed i see,” allowing the smile to sneak up your face, you feel your nails digging into your palms underneath the table, rooting you back to your reason for being here.

“it’s the thinking you’re better than me for me,” he states, back leaning against the chair.

“oh, baby, i am better than you,” the words escape your lips as naturally as breathing does.

“i don’t know about that, i certainly wouldn’t bring an on-and-off boyfriend of mine to a restaurant where my potential clients usually go to,” there’s a gleam in his eyes.

but before you can dissect the meaning of his words, the sight of a familiar jet black haired man trudging from toward your table with a distorted expression and waiters hurrying after him from a few steps away - catches your attention.

“___! baby, i’m sorry!” if you look closer, you could see the tears welling up in his eyes when he spots you.

“eric,” the hiss under your breath is venomous, threatening, “what are you doing here?!”

“i’m here for you, baby. i realized you’re the only one for me,” he drops to his knees, pulling out a velvet red box from his pocket. the waiters that were chasing after him now freezing, looking at each other back and forth before eric proclaims his undying love and his desires to, “i don’t want to live a life without you- marry me, baby!”

“stop,” you say curtly, body involuntarily leaned forward to make sure your voice reaches him. the sight of a smirking jeongguk adds to oil to the flames growing inside of you, “stop it. you’re acting insane, right now.”

“...i promise, i’ll never cheat on you again...” eric goes on, tears freely streaming down his cheeks as his shoulders sag, “i even tattooed your name on my chest.”

the italic curls of your name is inked in black a few inches underneath his left collarbone, probably where his heart is supposed to be. but at the moment, all you can see is jeongguk’s leisure wine drinking, “oh my god, security. please, take this man away, he’s disrupting lunchtime.”

the two waiters seem to snap out of their initial trance, marching over to eric and gripping his arms with all their might before dragging him away at the manager’s instructions. it’s only then, do you notice the flash of camera from one of the tables on the farthest left side of the restaurant, its position allowing for a full view of your expression and possibly only a view of jeongguk’s back.

“you,” a whisper slips out of your mouth once you’ve assured the manager that everything was settled and you’d continue eating, “you planned this.”

“what an assertive deduction. i almost thought you would’ve missed it altogether,” he remarks, a look of pure awe spreading across his face.

“fuck you, jeon,” slamming your fist against the table, you slip out of your chair and march out of restaurant, fully aware of the eyes that follow you until you’re out of sight.

x

no word got out.

sns was oddly silent about the incident at the restaurant but your sisters know anyway. shuhua knocks on your door, fixing you one of her calming smiles before dropping the bomb.

“mother and elder sisters don’t know, i’m not gonna tell them but i think it’s better if you talk to jeongguk about it.” is what she suggests.

but she doesn’t know he was the one that orchestrated it, as if your life was a show and he was there for a good time. either way, to ease your sister’s heart, you make your way to jeongguk’s office.

he made you wait for a good two hours, having his assistant retell that he’s busy and can’t be disturbed at the moment. but once you’ve had enough, you barge into his room, nails digging into your palms at the lack of meeting partner and the man’s too casual appearance with his blazer draped over his recliner and his sleeves folded up till his elbow.

“i heard you were in a meeting,” you announce, making sure to glare at the secretary that stopped dead in her tracks when you managed to slip past her and through the door of jeongguk’s office.

“as you can see, i’m quite busy,” he nods, hands gesturing at the open mac in front of him.

“what are you playing at, jeon jeongguk?” a smacking sound echoes through the air as you slam your palms on his mahogany table, glaring down at him “because i swear to god, i will make sure you regret messing with me.”

but instead of the panic you hope to raise, a chuckle trickles out of his lips, “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

how the prettiest pairs of lips could smirk like that is beyond you. natural pink lips, curving deviously as his bunny lips peek innocently underneath. you don’t notice you were staring until his voice fills the silence, forcing you to tear your gaze away from those kissable lips and meet his gaze.

“you really do wanna kiss me,” there’s that gleam in his eyes - that of realization and something - something - you can’t pinpoint.

gone is the boy that used to tell you your pigtails are lopsided and proceeded to fix it for you - he made it worse but you didn’t really mind because it was the effort that counted.

but that was almost a decade ago.

“you’re seriously like a man child,” you shake your head, the initial reason of marching over to his office now shoved to the back of your mind. the last thing you want is to be in the same room with a man who seems to only be interested in making someone else’s life his own personal entertainment.

but before your fingers brush the metal handle of the double doors, another hand brushing on top of yours, feather-light fingers pleading for you not to walk out on him.

“i’m sorry,” he doesn’t sound like the jeon jeongguk you’ve come to know within the short span of time - like a man stripped off his cards and games, “i went too far.”

you don’t - can’t - say anything but your body isn’t exactly listening to your mind’s instructions to move out of his grasp. out of his presence.

“i didn’t know the reporter was there - i made sure he’s keeping his mouth shut after you left,” his breath is hot against your neck and his front brushes against your back but not really touching.

“why did you do it? why did you bring eric all the way here?” you pray to thank the stars for the strength in your voice despite the feeling that’s slowly disappearing from your knees.

“i found out  you guys broke up because he cheated.. i wanted to make sure he knew you were mine,” his clicks his tongue, “i didn’t know you dated such a psycho-”

your world spins for the briefest moment before you come face to face with a wide eyed jeongguk.

“first off, you don’t own me,” you announce, arms coming to cross over your chest in show of protest, “and second off,” the semblance of surprise and panic finally slips through his facade when your hands grip his collar, “kiss me.”

the last thing you remember is jeongguk nodding ever so slightly before his eyes flutter shut just miliscends before yours. you feel his arm band around your lower back, free hand digging into your hair and pulling you closer into the kiss. he tastes like mint and lemon candies that your nanny used to give you and you’d give it to him, saying something like “it’s my favorite candy but i like you so i’ll let you have one”. you don’t miss the small jar he keeps on the side of his desk full of those candies.

but the matter of this and getting married in order to save your family from falling into ruins are two different matters altogether.

and somewhere down the line, you find yourselves still arguing about the littlest of things.

“um, what do you mean that red roses aren’t romantic? it’s literally the symbol of undying love,” surprisingly enough, it’s jeongguk that’s fighting for the fiercer shade of the petal.

“you think fuchsia pink doesn’t symbolize love?” you roll your eyes.

then comes the time when your mother and magically healed father asking for a grandchild to which jeongguk grins, “we’re working on baby jeon.”

(you’re married and the petals themed in your wedding are both fuchsia and garnet)

“excuse me?” you turn to him, brows arching. that alone warrants a break of cold sweat on jeongguk’s forehead as he cautiously laughs.

“i mean, w-we’re not ready yet.”

rather, you’re not ready to forego your child-less phase in exchange for late night awakenings and learning cry-languages.

but you’re not exactly being careful either, what with the two of you finding the holes in time to slip away from your family and into your childhood room only for jeongguk to slam you against the wall and bend you over the vanity.

“jeongguk did you bring a condom?” you ask.

“i’ll pull out,” is all he says and you’re barely listening as you clasp your palms agaist your mouth, trying not to let out the moans pass through your lips.

when you go back to your family, jeongguk’s arm is around your waist and you both sit together as you joke and laugh with your sisters whilst jeongguk raises a glass to joining your dad at the gym.

x

note. hope yall enjoyed!

see drabble game! for how to request!

[niuttuc]

Sezashi Quick Sheet

Name: Sezashi

Pronouns: He/Him

Species: Orochi/Snake

Age: 46

Plane of Origin: Kamigawa

First Planeswalk: Lorwyn/Shadowmoor

Colors: Green/Blue

Appearance: Sezashi is an Orochi, a horned snake with four arms, in his forties. Mostly green, with black patterning on his scales. He's probably about 24ft long from the tip of his tail to his snout, and generally stands a bit over 6ft off the ground, though it varies a bit depending on his positioning. He has two matching ornaments of different colors wrapped around the base of his horns. Four floating objects typically float around him, representing his bond to a Kami. Two of them are seeds of some kind, from full fruits to emerging sprouts. The two others are two-dimensional moving symbols, one with movement reminiscent of waves, and the other of winds and clouds. The last two always appear to be facing those that observe them, no matter how many people do or where they are.

Backstory: Sezashi has served for over a decade as a Merge-Keeper on Kamigawa, guarding one of the passages between Kamigawa's spirit realm and mortal world, and welcoming the Kami entering the world through it. Bonded and working with Adima, a Kami of Twin Worlds, they shared a vision of a future of the two worlds being reborn as one, better than the sum of its parts.

Sezashi, similarly to some in the more activist Order of Jukai, had visions about the end of the Kakuriyo brought on by technology, but his interpretation is very different. He sees it as bringing forward this new world, and the end of the Spirit realm only being the beginning of something new, and something wonderful, his and Adima's dream.

As such, when an Imperially-backed Futurist approached them to test an upgrade and prototype of a new Merge gate, aiming at better controlling the flow between the Realms and being able to regulate them, Adima and Sezashi accepted the one they guarded to be used for the test.

The Order of Jukai didn't take kindly to this new technology they didn't work along, messing with the path to the spirit realm. They organized an attack on the gate to destroy the prototype while Adima and Sezashi were distracted by a newly arrived Kami. Detonating a bomb filled with spiritual energy near a hole in the world to the spirit realm stabilized by untested technology might not have been the best idea.

The resulting rift spit out confused and angry kami, threatened to destroy part of the forest, and of spreading dangerously, damaging both worlds. After hours of running around trying to fix the consequences for both of them, Adima resolved to patch the rift, and incidentally close the Merge, something that isn't typically thought to be possible. But to do so, Adima had Sezashi channel them into the merge, which consumed them, severing their bond with Sezashi, and they've not been seen again since.

The loss of his closest friend, mentor and purpose in a already harrowing day was enough to ignite Sezashi's spark, sending them to another world, one that resulted of the fusion of two linked parts.

That was a couple years ago. Since then, he's traveled the worlds in search of worlds like his own, and of a way to bring back Adima. Despite their bond being broken, Sezashi still has access to the magic they granted him, unchanged, which he takes to indicate there's some part of Adima still existing somewhere, perhaps inside Sezashi himself, perhaps lost in the Spirit Realm, which could be used to bring them back.

Magic, gear and/or abilities: Their main magic is one of duality, one focused on two. The four elements floating around Sezashi are "charges" he can use to cast a variety of spells, doubling or halving physical characteristics of himself or other people and objects. The simplest may be size, but those spells can affects things in many different ways, from doubling something in its entirety, creating a clone of them or himself (or halving, he often halves the number of arms he has to be less conspicuous on planes without four-armed nagas), to halving or doubling something's weight or even thoughts (though less physical properties such as thoughts are harder to affect).

On himself, he can strengthen those spells by expending more "charges" on it, spending two, three or four charges on the same thing to multiply or divide the chosen property by 4, 8 or 16 instead of two. He cannot stack like this quite as well on others or objects (sorta, his clothes and gears count as "him" as far as his magic is concerned, for obvious reasons.)

His magic lasts as long as he wishes (and is relatively near), but he loses that charge until he ends the effect it is associated with. The element floating around him have to physically travel to whatever they'll affect, so it isn't always the fastest process either. They disappear while sustaining a spell. He can't in any circumstances maintain more than four spells that way (he could with direct help from Adima, but that's not really on the table anymore.)

As far as gear, he carries for a main weapon a metallic staff of sorts that can split off into two batons (he prefers keeping two arms free but occasionally can double that into four). The deployment and separation is entirely mechanical, so it works off Kamigawa. In truth, its tips can produce energy blades to turn it into spears/daggers, but that doesn't work on most planes and a solid metal staff is enough of a weapon for him anyway.

[cloud-9ine]

Roses are pretty cliché, don’t you think? (pt 2)

⤷ pairing - bakugo katsuki x (fem) reader

⤷ fandom - bnha

⤷ warnings - swearing, very slight angst

⤷ summary - bakugo was already out of his element when he went to buy flowers; so he didn’t take kindly to you criticising his preference for roses

⤷ word count - 2.5k +

⤷ pt 1, pt 2

“I’m sorry.”

Her side of the bed was cold when Bakugo woke up. The sheets were neatly tucked in, and the pillow fluffed up as if she had never in slept in it at all. He could only stare at the empty space for a long moment before forcing himself to move and get out of bed. A vase sat on the windowsill, curtains already opened. The tulips had begun to droop, and the carnation petals- previously a stark white- had begun to turn black.

Bakugo’s eyebrows furrowed. He had only given them to Ochako a couple of days prior, certainly not enough time for them to be in such a state already. With a weary frown, he stripped off the sheets, inspecting them a bit more closely. Alas, he knew nothing about flowers, and couldn’t ascertain whether this was normal or not.

Not wanting to expend more energy on tulips and carnations, he stepped out the bedroom, quickly locking on the smell of freshly roasted coffee. Ochako was stood by the pot, seemingly motionless. There was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she was still half asleep, despite the fact it was obvious she had been awake for much longer. Bakugo froze himself upon the sight of her, itching to reach out yet realising that it wouldn’t help.

With a shallow gulp, he took a cautious step forward, gaze tracing her face for any indication she had heard him. If she had, she was doing an excellent job in hiding it. Another step. This time, Ochako flinched, eyes darting towards him. Bakugo could feel his pulse skyrocket as her lips parted before closing again, her eyelashes fluttering.

Ochako was not one to be quelled with tulips and carnations.

Her eyes were dark, lips pursed as she swept past him, coffee left on the counter. Bakugo didn’t need to turn around to know that she had left. With a heaving sigh, he ran a hand over his weary features, fixing himself a cup of coffee which he sipped, more to occupy himself with something rather than a genuine desire for the drink.

Denki’s party was today. Ironically, it was the anniversary of his and Kyoka’s marriage, which only served to form a pit in Bakugo’s stomach. Idly tapping the ceramic, he silently pondered if it was too late to cancel. He cringed, rationalising his thoughts. Denki was one of his closest friends, having stuck with him through him being an asshole for most of his youth, and he wasn’t planning on forsaking that relationship now.

Now, leant back against the cream walls in the corner of Denki’s living room, observing the carnage that was occurring he beginning to he almost wished he had. The bright blue lights and loud music was doing nothing for his headache, but he wasn’t about to leave before anything had really started.

Although they had arrived together, Ochako had left his side the moment they walked through the doors. He hadn’t seen her since, with exception of a few glimpses of her chatting with Asui and Momo in another room. He contemplated trying to talk, but it wasn’t the time nor place to start a confrontation.

Every once in a while Denki would appear- already hammered- thank him each time for showing up (which begged the question as to whether he was just that drunk, or if Bakugo was so unreliable that just seeing that he had stayed for more than 10 minutes was enough of a shocker) and hand him a drink. He had gotten about three beers this way, without even having to move from his corner.

Kirishima, Midoriya, and a few others had attempted to talk to him, but none of them had been particularly successful to withstand him relentlessly brushing them off after every sentence. After a while, they stopped trying.

Bakugo wasn’t going to act as if he wasn’t at least a little self-destructive.

He knew pushing away his friends, self-containing his pity into his own isolation was the perfect recipe to spiral, but he couldn’t seem to care. His mind would go blank on occasion, like now. He couldn’t move his eyes, staring at a singular point in the room. Bakugo wasn’t much of a drinker, but he couldn’t blame this on the alcohol.

The noise around his dissolved into a low static, ringing around in his head like firecrackers. Colours became bleak, and the faces of his friends blurred, the lines between them and the background becoming worryingly hard to differentiate.

For a moment, he thought he was dying.

“Fancy seeing you again,” The colours regained vibrancy and the faces snapped back into focus, the static fading away in favour of your voice, “you come here often?” You were teasing, he knew it, but he still couldn’t formulate a response. There was a beat of silence after your words, Bakugo’s eyes tracing your face as if he wasn’t quite sure you were real or not.

“Should’ve known you’d appear,” he settled on after a minute. He bit back a groan at his brash greeting, but it didn’t seem like you cared.

“Yep. There’s no reason I wouldn’t, after all,” You looked down at your nails, picking at your nail polish before glancing back up at the blonde, “beer? Really?” Bakugo frowned, looking down at his drink and swirling it around in his cup.

“Yeah? So what?” You hummed, taking a sip from your own beverage. It was an electric blue colour, glowing surreally in the low pink light Kyoka had settled on a couple of minutes earlier.

“It’s just a little cliché, isn’t it?” You grinned smugly at his groan, covering your mouth with the glass.

“Do you ever get tired of that bit?” He questioned, glare thinly veiled under a mocking questioning look. You shook your head.

“Not really. Do you ever get tired of being a basic bitch?” Despite everything, Bakugo chuckled, his chest lightening.

“I suppose. What would you suggest, then?” He took the bait, crooked smile gracing his lips as your eyes sparkled.

“Follow me.” With little reluctance, he trailed after you as you darted around the others that were in attendance, once in a while stopping to greet someone or another, before glancing behind to check he was still following and continuing on. He was a little shocked at the amount of people you knew, but figured as a close friend of Denki’s you would probably be accustomed to them by extension.

Out of the corner, Bakugo felt weirdly exposed. Logically, he knew that no-one was looking at him- or at least, for no longer than a passing glance sent in his direction, but his mind was playing tricks on him. There was a large population of the party that he didn’t recognise- heroes that Denki had met and befriended throughout their years in the field. It was unnerving to be in a house with who were essentially just strangers with the exception of about 10 or 20.

He knew had hadn’t exactly made the effort to keep contact with the new people he met during his time as a hero, so it wasn’t a surprise the only people he could really call friends were the ones who he had met during school, but god did this make it so obvious. Hell, even you knew more people here than he did.

Bakugo wasn’t sure at what point he became so lonely, when did he start isolating himself in this way? He glanced around. The fuzziness was beginning to blur the sides of their faces again.

“Hurry up, the night is young, but I’m not gonna be at the rate you’re going!” You yelled over the music, and Bakugo was brought back to the present. Right, he was following you. You were going to get him a great drink, and hopefully it would be strong enough for him to forget himself for at least a few hours.

In all honesty, your voice was a good anchor. He picked up on the fact this was the most animated he had heard you talk, and maybe it should have been some sort of warning that it came with the topic of becoming intoxicated, but Bakugo decided to gloss over it.

“So? What’s the drink of yours?” Bakugo asked once the two of you had arrived at the home bar he distinctly remembered helping Kyoka install for Denki’s birthday a few years back. The lights had faded to blue at this end of the room, the coolness easing the throb in his head only slightly. You slipped around the back of the counter, appearing at the other side with an easy grin on your face. For a startling second, Bakugo was brought back to you in your store, the air of professionalism you held in your disposition hard to ignore.

“Give me a minute.” You called over your shoulder, back facing him as you rummaged around in Denki’s alcohol cupboards. You re-emerged with several bottles in hand, drinks he hadn’t even heard of. With the trained practice of someone of skill, you mixed the drinks together, and Bakugo could only watch your hands move, colours swirling in a mix of pinks, greens, yellows and reds.

Mixing drinks. Add that to the list of things you could do that he couldn’t.

Tapping salt around the rim and sliding a lime slice onto the side for a finishing touch, you pushed the drink before him, the same self-satisfied smirk on your face. He squinted at your creation. It was a starling pink, almost unnaturally so, with a weird gleam of sparkles flowing around the liquid. He glanced up towards you in distrust, down at the drink, then once more at you. You merely levelled him with a composed stare, eyebrows raised expectantly. With an unconcerned shrug, and a sudden indifference to his own bodily autonomy, Bakugo knocked back the drink, taking a few large gulps before setting it back on the counter.

It didn’t burn as it ran down his throat as he expected (and half-wished for, to take the edge off). Rather, it had a bursting sweet flavour, spreading out a warmth in his chest the moment he swallowed. The buzz was immediate, dulling his senses and causing a pink haze the cover his vision.

“So?” You asked, seemingly satisfied as you watched him scan the room with an awe that he couldn’t hide.

“It’s… not like a beer.” You laughed, and Bakugo turned to look at you. Your face, clear as day to see, was silhouetted with purple, the lights mingling to soften your features with an unexpected gentleness.

“That’s sort of the whole point.” The two of you took a sip. He could feel a flush growing on his cheeks, the alcohol beginning to kick in much earlier than he would have liked. The numbness that was beginning to take over wasn’t a particularly unwelcome feeling, however, and Bakugo was for once grateful for his light-weightiness.

“How’s your lady-friend?” You were leaning on the counter, fixing Bakugo with an even stare. He sighed, sobering up slightly at the thought of Ochako.

“Not good. Those flowers I got from you barely survived two days, by the way,” he grumbled, the slight growl in his voice making you purse your lips.

“That’s not good.” You mumbled, taking another sip from your drink. Seeing you, Bakugo did the same, taking a few large gulps that made his thoughts hazy before slamming the glass back down. Wordlessly, you began fixing him a drink, deep in thought.

“Yeah, I know it’s not good! What kinda flowers die in two days?” He barked, cheeks going slightly pink. You shook your head, gesturing to something across the room that Bakugo had to squint to realise what it was.

Irises and magnolias.

Kyoka’s bouquet. One you had made in advance, older than his by at least half a week. It was perfectly alive, purples and yellows glowing almost brighter than the first time he had seen them.

“Hah?” He gaped. You shook your head again, displeasure written on your face.

“There’s a reason my shop is so popular, you know,” you spoke, drawing his attention back to you. Another pink, untouched drink lay in front of him, and he took a nervous swig of it. The taste wasn’t nearly as sweet the first time, but he just pinned that down to having an idea of the taste.

“Why?” He responded, feeling something more serious weigh on his mind.

“It’s my quirk. Anything I cultivate- like flowers- adapts to its environment.” He tilted his head, and you sighed, evident that he wasn’t getting it.

“It takes in the atmosphere. For example, you bring a bouquet of flowers home to a house of love, affection, and- above all- happiness, it will reflect that. Never dying. Looking even better than when you got it. On the other hand, if you bring flowers home to a house of regret, hate and sadness…” you bit your lip, looking away from the stricken expression on Bakugo’s face. His breath hitched in his throat.

“Don’t say it.” He gulped, “Please.” With a sad sigh, you crossed your arms.

“They’ll die.”

Bakugo’s drink suddenly tasted very sour.

“I gotta go.” He mumbled, patting down his jacket for his keys. The barstool screeched against the ground as he stood up, protesting against the sudden movement. You sighed; bringing his drink back into the mixer and combining it with yours before pouring it back out. He almost stopped to admire the purple shine.

“Where are you gonna go?” You asked, voice veiled by a monotone that he recognised as some sort of weird disillusionment you used to hide whatever you were feeling.

“Anywhere.” He growled, rifling through the pockets of his pants. You rolled your eyes.

“Ochako has your keys.” He did stop this time, shoulders slumping down in realisation. You frowned, “I saw her with them earlier, if it helps any.” There was a momentary silence, and despite the music, all Bakugo could hear was a ringing in his ears.

“Sit down.” It should’ve been a question, but your tone suggested anything but. With a sullen resignation, Bakugo did as you said, slipping back into his chair. You pushed the glass towards him, offering the purple concoction with a look of pity in your eyes.

Without a question, Bakugo gulped the drink. It was a weird mix of a coolness that washed down his throat and a fiery heat that bloomed in his chest, a burn in his lungs that he recognised from breathing in air far too cold. He didn’t bother to ask you what it did, but he could feel his muscles relaxing, grip around the glass loosening.

“Thanks.” He muttered. You waved a hand, moving back out from behind the counter and patting him on the shoulder.

“No problem. Let me make you feel better for a while. It’s the least I can do.”

Under the purple lights, he could only nod.

[e-of-west-glendia]

For the very amazing and wonderful and super super kind @sirrriusblack. I cannot believe I’ve only known you for a year and I’m so so glad I know you Kay Kay. Happy birthday and I love you so very very much.

~~~~~~

The dorm was silent at this time of night. Everyone had gone to bed hours ago and the only sound came from the soft rise and fall of people breathing and the quiet rustling of the curtains.

Marlene always insisted on leaving the window partially open. Lily could never figure out why but she just went with it.

The autumn breeze blew the curtains around causing them to look like ghosts under the pale light of the moon.

They’re mesmerizing to watch, and quite frankly Lily doesnt have anything better to do.

She’s found that she can’t sleep. Her homework had been done hours ago and everyone else had gone to bed. So curtain staring is currently her best source of entertainment.

Although it’s beginning to grow boring. It’s only so long that you can stare at strips of fabric fluttering with the wind.

She’s not sure what makes her decide, but next thing Lily knows she’s pulling on a pair of shoes and leaving the dorm. Heading down the stairs and making her way swiftly to the portrait hole.

It’s chilly in the hallway, and the silence makes her footfalls echo across the stone.

She lets her feet carry her wherever they wish, not quite paying attention to where she’s going.

However, when she reaches the quidditch pitch, it becomes apparent what her subconscious is doing.

She sighs a bit. “Of all the places.”

No use turning back now, she’s already here. Besides, she wanted to get out of the dorm and now she is.

If it was cold inside the halls of the school, it’s freezing out on the pitch. Whats even better is that Lily realizes that she forgot a jumper, or anything warmer than pajamas, really.

She sits on the ground, deciding to lay back in the grass. It’s peaceful out here, quiet. Lily can’t help but let her eyes close as she enjoys the peace being outside brings.

“Well you’re out late.”

The voice startles her despite its familiarity and she jolts upwards.

Jamec chuckles from where he hovers in the air on his broom. “Sorry,” he says, running his free hand through his hair and offering a somewhat sheepish smile. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Lily ignores the way her heart skips at beat at his laugh and soft smile.

“You’re one to talk,” she counters. “I’m not the only one outside.”

James snickers. “You got me there,” he says, hopping off the broom and sitting beside her. “What are you doing out here?”

Lily shrugs. “Couldn't sleep. You?”

James leans back onto his elbows, another one of his signature smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Captain of the quidditch team, Lils. Take every moment to train that I can.”

Lily raises an eyebrow. “It’s three in the morning, James.”

“Okay fine,” he sighs. “Couldn't sleep. Better?”

“Much.”

James just laughs and rolls his eyes, laying back and then folding his arms behind his head.

The two of them stay like that for a while, staring up at the stars.

“You just come out here when you can’t sleep?.” Lily asks eventually.

“Yep. So do you apparently.”

“Wasn’t intentional. Just kind of let my feet carry me, yknow.”

James turns onto his side, grinning. “Thinking about me Evans?”

Yes, she thinks.

“In your dreams, Potter,” she says, which only makes James laugh again.

Lily has to suppress a sigh. She’s started noticing things. The sort of things she’d have ignored last year and the year before.

Things like the way James’s eyes crinkle in the corners when he laughs. The dimples on his cheeks and the one on his chin. The way his eyelashes curl ever so slightly, just enough so that they don’t touch his glasses.

James stands so suddenly it almost startles her as much as when he arrived.

“Where are you going?”

James shrugs. “Flying.”

“Now?” Lily asks, slightly incredulous.

James nods at his already floating and previously abandoned broom. “Yep. Can’t see why not.”

“You’re blind enough in the daylight James, it’s not even remotely sunny out.”

He waves a nonchalant hand at her. “Quidditch Captain instincts.”

“You’re an idiot, Potter,” she mutters. Although if she’s being perfectly honest she’s thinking he’s several other things too.

“Maybe,” he says.

Lily shakes her head. “Definitely.”

She watches as James climbs back on his broom, expecting him to take off at any moment.

“You’re staring,” James points out.

“I’m not.” It probably sounds a bit too indignant to be believable and Lily is suddenly very thankful for how the darkness covers most of the blush that’s spread across her cheeks.

James only chuckles. “If you say so.”

He regards her curiously for a moment.

“Look who’s staring now.”

“Not staring, thinking.”

“About?”

James shrugs a bit. “You should come with me.”

Lily blinks in confusion. It takes a solid thirty seconds of staring at him blankly for it to click.

“Oh you mean up there,” she shakes her head quickly. “Yeah, no, I don’t fly.”

“Well you wouldn’t be,” he says and Lily rolls her eyes.

“You know what I meant.”

“Did I?”

“James.”

“Well where’s the harm in it.”

“Well theres-“ she stops short, not able to think of any suitable reasons.

“I was made quiddtich captain for a reason, Evans. Wasn't because I can’t fly.”

Lily just sighs.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

And she does, probably a lot more than she should.

Its why she finds herself standing and walking to his side.

“Yes, I do.”

The smile he gives her in return makes this idiotic sky adventure worth it.

A breeze spins through the air and Lily, who is rather forcibly reminded that she should’ve brought something warmer, shivers.

It doesn’t escape James’ notice and he frowns.

“You’re cold,” he says.

Lily snorts. “I didn’t notice.”

Then, before she can protest it, James has taken off his jumper and is extending it to her.

“Take it,” he says upon seeing the look on her face. “Really, I mean it. I’ll be warm enough when we get in the air.”

It’s never been a good idea to try and argue something with James Potter. So with no more protest than a small sigh, she slips it over her head.

The jumper is warm, about three sizes too big, and despite being the standard quidditch sweater, it’s distinctly James.

“Thanks,” she mutters.

“Anytime, Lils,” he returns. Then, “You probably want to get on now, can’t do much flying if you’re still standing there.”

“Oh, right.”

She settles herself onto the back of the broom. And after a quick check in, they take off.

Lily can’t help the way her arms tighten around James’ waist as they pitch upwards.

“Alright, Evans?” He asks, and Lily can feel the way his small laugh vibrates through his chest.

“Mhm yep.”

She’s trying mostly not to think about how far down the ground is. Or why the hell anyone would want to play quidditch.

As if sensing this, James says, “Eyes up, Lils. All the interesting things are up here.”

She hums in agreement as she looks up at the stars.

“Hold on,” James whispers and then he leans forward a bit.

How fast they’re going is soon lost to Lily as they streak across the grounds of the school. Spiraling upwards towards the top of the astronomy tower and then down to the lake, low enough for her fingers to skim the water.

She’s starting to see why he likes it up here. Nothing but the stars, the sky, and the air. The air that's fanning her hair out around her face and makes James smile as it brushes his face.

There’s a moment when when he turns back to look at her. The corners of his eyes crinkling into his telltale smile.

Of all the people she had to fall for at school it had to be James Potter.

The one boy she’d spent years being annoyed with and trying to ignore. And now, after all this time, he was the one she wanted the most. The irony of it was that since they had become friends, it seemed as though he wanted it to stay that way. Lily could deal with being friends. It was better than whatever the hell had been going on in years prior.

Or perhaps it wasn’t. At least then she didn’t feel the small pang in her chest when he smiled at her.

They touch back down onto the ground far too soon for Lily’s liking. James gets down first, offering a hand to help her jump down.

She lets her hand stay in his far longer than she should’ve and when she looks up at him to see if he’s noticed, she finds that he’s looking in the other direction.

“Well?” He asks when he finally turns back.

“Okay, I’ll admit that was fun.”

The triumphant look on his face makes her laugh.

“Don’t get too excited. Quidditch is still a ridiculous sport.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” he says.

She walks with him as he puts his broom away, and then the two of them walk back into the castle, all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

It’s not until she’s at the foot of the stairs to her dorm that she realizes she still has his sweater on.

“Oh! I forgot to give this back!” She’s staring to take it off, but he stops her by placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Keep it,” he says. “I’ve got plenty.”

She doesn’t have an answer for that and it’s not long before James says goodnight and heads up to his own room.

Later, when she’s back in her bed, Lily finds herself staring at that curtain again. She’s fiddling with a loose seam on one of the sleeves as she looks at the curtain.

The way the red and gold of it billows in the wind. It reminds her of when they were flying, and suddenly the curtain looks much less like a ghost and more and more like James.

She supposes that they’re the same things. The curtain ghost and James Potter. Like a ghost, James Potter is someone she can’t have.

But at least they’re friends she thinks. And as she falls asleep in the jumper he gave her she slowly realizes that maybe, that’s not enough for her.

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: A Little Jealousy

Reid Garwin x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,886

Summary: Reid accompanies you to a grad student social and gets a little jealous. Inspired by @saviorsong​s headcannon! 

The night air was crisp and the moon shone brightly overhead. It was well into spring so you were able to go out in a thin coat and a dress without feeling the icy prick of freezing temperatures on your skin.

The two of you were on the way to a dinner social your department put together for its grad students. A chance to get to get to know one another outside of the stresses of school life. With midterms over with, you were more than ready to have some fun.

Almost immediately after getting the email, you sent in your RSVP and put Reid down for your plus one. He grumped a little when you told him but you didn’t take him too seriously. He’d be contrary even if it was something he was actually interested in, just to get a rise out of you.

Reid and you lived only a few blocks away from the restaurant district, and opted to walk instead of circling around forever trying to nab a parking spot. Streetlights lined other side of the road. There was ample lighting. Still, you somehow managed to lose your footing.

Another couple was coming the opposite direction on the sidewalk and you scooted over to make more room for them. But when you moved to the side, your foot got caught in a crack at just the right angle. Next thing you knew, your leg gave out and you were stumbling forward, arms swinging wildly in a failed attempt to regain your balance.

You thought that you were going to hit the cement, and hit it hard, but strong arms were suddenly wrapped around your waist. It was a little jarring to come to a complete stop and all the air in your lungs was pushed out.

“Whoa!” Reid exclaimed in your ear. “That was a close one.”

You craned your neck to neck at him with large eyes. He slowly lowered you back to your feet but didn’t remove his arms from you.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, adrenaline still coursing through you. There was ringing in your ears and your muscles were like jello. “Sorry, I—I’m still a little shaken.”

He rested his chin on the top of your head. “You’re alright, babe,” he assured you, his presence a big comfort. “Now, let’s get moving. If they eat all the appetizers before we get there, I’m gonna be pissed.”

The adrenaline drained out of you instantly and there was no stopping the snort that came out of your mouth. “Gee. Thanks for the motivation.”

“I know, I know: I should really do motivational speaking for a living.”

He let you go but kept your hand in his. You started walking again and it took him by surprise that you were going faster than him. So much faster that he had to stretch his arm straight out if he wanted to keep holding your hand.

Reid squeezed your hand to get your attention. You saw his brow raised in question and you returned the squeeze to his hand. “What? I’m going to be mad, too, if we don’t get any appetizers.”

You arrived at the restaurant in no time, half speed-walking, half running the rest of the way there.

Inside the restaurant, the hostess led you upstairs to the room reserved for the department. There were a lot of familiar faces, classmates and professors alike. There were even some kids running around which added more energy to the affair.

Guided by his nose, Reid quickly found the appetizer spread on a table that lined the far wall. The choices were top notch. Egg rolls, hors d’oeuvres, and meat filled phyllo cups all made his mouth water.

And even better than the finger foods were the drinks.

“Am I dreaming? Or are they really serving alcohol here?” He pointed to some people who walked by with bottles of craft beer in hand.

“I guess,” you answered less enthused. You’d been to several conferences by that point and alcohol had been served at all of them. But you didn’t want to bring him down. “You should go see if they have your favorite.”

“I think I will… What do you want me to get you?”

You thought for a second. “I’m feeling like white wine tonight. See if they have any good selections?”

He brought your hand up to his lips to place a gentle peck to your knuckles and promised he’d be back. You shooed him away equal parts thrilled and flustered. Despite most people’s first impression of him, Reid was quite the romantic, and normally you loved him for it, but you could already feel the stares from his display.

Holding your head high, you smiled politely at the onlookers and quickly made your way to a table in the corner with familiar faces. You said hi to your friends and in turn they introduced you to their plus ones. The conversation flowed effortlessly and your table was almost obnoxiously loud in your laughter.

“So where’s the boyfriend? Or did you come by yourself?”

You turned to the body besides you. Ben and you had a friendship that went back to your first semester in the program. The two of you had been in the same orientation session and found that your personalities meshed together well.

You knew that he was genuinely interested in meeting the boy you constantly talked about. Reid, however, walked in at precisely the wrong moment and took the question as a challenge.

“The boyfriend is definitely here.”

Setting down a plate of food and your serving of wine, Reid draped his arm across your shoulders and planted a kiss on you. The use of tongue would’ve been obvious to anyone who watched, including poor Ben.

Breathless, you pulled back and Reid allowed it. He kept his arm where it was and turned to Ben with a hard grin. “Who’s this?”

You cleared your throat as if to wipe the slate clean, like swipe of an eraser on a chalk board. “Reid, this my friend and classmate Benedict. He goes by Ben for short. Ben, this is Reid, my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, we’re basically married,” Reid joked.

You elbowed him under the table and gave him a look. This was nothing for him to be jealous over.

Ben stuck his hand out but rather than shake it, Reid picked up something off of the plate and pushed a small piece into your mouth. His fingers linger on your lips as you chewed the unexpected bite. Your friend slowly lowered his hand, realizing that a hand shake would not be happening.

Unbothered, Reid chatted away. “Do you like it? I knew you would. When I saw they had some, I made sure to get a lot.”

You were put in an awkward position.

On one hand, if you paid too much attention to Ben, Reid was likely to get more territorial. On the other, if you gave into Reid’s posturing, he may feed into it and put on an even bigger air. Not to mention that Ben wasn’t stupid. He probably already figured out that Reid wasn’t a fan.

Yes. You would have to play this very delicately.

“It is really good. Thanks, baby.” He practically preened and continued to feed you. “Hey, Ben? Have you started thinking about your final project for Bird’s class yet?”

The two of you shared your respective plans for a class you were both in, Reid observing with sharp eyes.

“I feel stupid now that I know what you’re doing,” Ben confessed. “You’re so smart. Probably the smartest in our year.”

“Yeah. She is,” Reid answered before you had a chance to speak up. His jaw clenched and he pulled you slightly closer into his chest. The boys stared each other down until Ben abruptly glanced down at his stomach.  

A loud, angry gurgle rang out. Ben looked horrified as he excused himself in a panic, presumably to rush to the nearest bathroom.

“Nice to meet you, Benedict.”

You figured out what was going on when you saw Reid trying to hold his laughter in. You glared at the blonde and he couldn’t control himself any longer. He wiped a tear from his eye he was giggling so hard.

“Are you crazy?” you hissed, trying to keep the volume down despite your anger. “That was totally uncalled for!”

He tried waving it off. “He’ll be fine. The spell wasn’t even a strong one.”

“First, he’s a good friend and only a friend. He didn’t deserve to crap his pants because you got jealous. Second, you promised to stop using so much.”

Still, he insisted, “It’s not a big deal,” as he reached to pick at the food plate.

Not backing down, you took a grape from him and flung it at his face. He rubbed his forehead in frustration.

“Seriously? He’ll be fine in ten, fifteen minutes max. Until then, he can think about how douchey it is to flirt with other people’s girlfriends.”

Flirting? At what point was any of that considered flirting? “Just because someone gives me a compliment, doesn’t mean they’re interested in that way.”

At last he deflated a little. Scratched the back of his neck where skin met blonde locks. “Okay, maaaybe I overreacted…but can you blame me? You’re amazing and I’m just a guy that manages to screw up all the time.”

Reid was a great guy, no question about it, but his self-doubt got the best of him sometimes. Being the “black sheep” of the family and the Sons left him with insecurities that he still worked through. Getting him to admit he was wrong was always half of the battle. Once he did, it was a simple matter of reassuring him.

“Hey,” you said as you stroked the back of his hand. “How many times have we had this talk? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not even for Benedict?” he pouted.

“Not even for Ben,” you answered, pulling him into a hug. “And why are you so hung up on calling him by his full name?”

Reid scoffed. “It’s so pretentious. He definitely comes from old money.”

“Umm, baby, you come from old money. Is that the pot calling the kettle black?”

He muttered so you couldn’t make out what he said.

“Okay, how about we make a deal,” you offered. He lifted his head, seemingly interested. “You apologize for your behavior when Ben comes back—and you’d better call him Ben. You do that and I’ll give you a reward when we get home.”

To show him the kind of reward you meant, you kissed the corner of his mouth, your finger trailing up his thigh. His eyes widened, the black of his pupil dilated in normal, non-magical way. Oh, he was undeniably down to agree to the deal.

You gave hi one last peck. “Now remember: Ben. Not Benedict.”

“I don’t know. Benedict has more of a ring to it—” He stopped mid-sentence when you glared. “Fine. I’ll be nice to Ben.”

He may be a dramatic goof, but he was your dramatic goof. And if he needed a reminder every now and then, along with some tough love, then you were happy to do it.

“Good boy,” you said with a big smile.

_______________

Hopefully I did jealous Reid justice! I haven’t written him in a while so I hope he’s not too off the mark. Older Reid still has childish impulses when he gets jealous but he is mature enough to admit when he’s in the wrong now. And even though Pogue is the head foodie, I think all the boys are big eaters with the magic use and working out. 

Thanks for reading :) 

[oneshotnewbie]

I hope the Danvers sisters are reunited in Chapter 3 of the Missing for A Decade fic. I just finished the 2nd chapter and it was good. I also hope that her sisters give her kidnapper hell.

A/N: Nope, they are not reunited yet. But maybe in the fourth Chapter! ;) --- By the time Maggie pulled up to the street, she saw the two patrol cars and the police tape that kept the onlookers and news people distanced from the house. Inwardly she cursed incessantly; how did they know more quickly than she did? Who or what had told them that they had found the girl who had been missing for several years? She was beside herself with her anger, but quickly evaporated through the lump in her throat and the pounding of her racing heart.

The brown-haired detective got out of her car with shaky legs and, with the request for space, squeezed through the crowd that turned into a thick wall around the house.

She knew she had to hide you as best she could from everyone else so that the press wouldn't have anything to popularize. She wanted to keep it a secret, especially since she didn't know what condition you were in and didn't want Kara and Alex to find out through the screen that you were still alive.

She wanted to tell them herself, she owed them that.

She waved her badge to the two police officers and the young brown-haired rookie pulled the tape up so she crawled underneath and thanked him.

The door was wide open when she came to a standstill in front of it to take another breath. All the years in which you disappeared where pure hell for her too, she lost almost everything.

She lost you and her relationship with Alex broke, through the psychological and physical strain of finding you, she almost broke under the pressure and got fired if she wouldn't have pulled herself together. She had lost herself in alcohol after blaming herself for not finding a single hot trail in the first 48 hours that has since been colder than Antarctica, but she caught herself every moment she thought of you and about that you could never forgive her if she got drunk instead of looking for you.

She pushed her thoughts away and took a step over the threshold. The stench of unventilated space and fermented wood stung her nostrils, but she didn't care, she finally just wanted to be able to hold you in her arms again.

She walked down the long hallway which had old, stale wallpaper that was already hanging down and looked scratched off. On the way, following the voices, she also passed the kitchen and a storage room that contained a mattress and a thin wool blanket.

Images settled in her head and the thought of you lying there, trapped in a less than three square meter room and slowly losing hope that you would ever come out alive again gnawed at her inside and made her eyes water.

Finally she arrived in the living room and stopped at the sight.

A starved body stood with the back to her in the middle of the room, holding a little girl. The clothes were dirty and full of holes, parts of the arms and legs that she could see were covered with bruises, scratches and old scars. Your hair was disheveled like a bird's nest and your skin was paler than she remembered it.

"Y/N.." Maggie whispered, hardly believing that she would ever see you again.

Turned around, you stared at her. While your brain told you to run to her immediately and don't let her go again, your body literally defended itself against it like a protective mechanism, that you actually no longer needed. "Maggie."

Your trembling and slightly scratched voice made her stomach upset and sick. 10 years in which she slowly forgot how you sounded and now she believed that she was completely in a dream because she not only heard your voice again, but you stood in front of her.

As if you had grown into the ground, you didn't move an inch. You couldn't, your body simply didn't respond to anything anymore.

Maggie too, was in a rigidity from which she could only find her way out with great difficulty. She ran up to you and hugged you as tightly as she could without hurting the little brown-haired girl in your arms. "It's you. It's really you!"

Tears formed in your eyes and you digged your fingernails tighter into her sweater with your free hand while you buried your face into her chest.

An insane burden fell from her and she too could no longer keep her emotions under control. You both stood there in the middle of the room and took in this moment to the fullest, as if you could both beathe again and drop a load off your shoulders.

Paramedics and forensics, who were notified before they even entered, stood around you both and applauded. It was not often that a missing person, especially a teenager, could be found after years, at least alive.

"Mommy, who is that?" the little one interrupted this moment and Maggie let you go involuntarily.

Her hand found it's place on one of your shoulder blades, the brunettes confused look always alternating between you and the little girl in your arms while she slowly understood and again tears welled up in her eyes. "Mommy?"

You nodded in confirmation.

"This is my daughter, Grace." you smiled at her before you lowered your head to the little one and smiled at her too. "Grace, this is Maggie. She is the wife of one of your aunts."

"One of the good guys you told about?" she asked while she played with a strand of your hair and stared at Maggie with big, hazelnut brown eyes.

"More than that, my darling." you sobbed. "Family."

"Wow!"

The little childs fearful look turned into shining eyes and a big grin as it conjured one on Maggies lips as well. She still couldn't believe what was going on in front of her. You had a daughter that no one knew about. You had no one to help you raise her. Kara and Alex had no idea about their niece, hell, they didn't even know that you were still alive.

Her thoughts drove her from grief to total anger at the bastard who did this to you and tore you out of your environment and your life. Inwardly she vowed to bring him to the grave by hand.

"Detective Sawyer?" she was torn from her thoughts. "We will bring them both through the back door into the ambulance and then to the NC hospital where they will be checked and treated."

"I come with you. I won't let them out of my sight again." she spoke coldly and shortly before the paramedic nodded and went on with a few other police officers to the back.

She felt a pull on her sides and watched the little girl clasping her tiny little hands at her black leather jacket. She smiled again when she noticed that Grace spread her arms and wanted to being held by her. "C'mere little Y/N."

Despite the fact that she probably had to watch bad things and was also trapped, she was still trusting. Probably because you told her too much good about the world, your family and about strong fighters that the bad couldn't be outweigh.

The brunette took your daughter tightly in her arms and clasped her before you leaned in her side. She out a protective arm around you and accompanied you to the ambulance with the help of a paramedic.

You were a fighter.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Show Not Tell - Harry Potter

Title:  Show, Not Tell Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!reader Summary: The four times Harry told the reader how he felt about them without quite saying it and the one time he finally did A/N: this is for the anon who wanted some fluff with Harry! Requests are open!

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

Harry has always had a hard time with words. Whether he’s saying the absolutely wrong thing, or he’s saying something bad without realizing it or he just simply can’t find the right words he can just never seem to get it right.

Which makes it pretty hard for him to let the people around him know how much he cares for and appreciates them. Thankfully, after years of being around Harry and witnessing his social blunders, his friends have learned to pay attention to the intention behind his words, and not necessarily what he’s actually saying.

His inability to express himself properly isn’t really a problem, until he finds the one person in life he wants to tell everything to. He had been aware of Y/N during his time at Hogwarts, but he never really noticed her until he ran into her again a few years after the war. He’s immediately captivated by her warm smile and her presence turns his brain to mush.

I wanted to see you again.

It’s late August, and the collar of Harry’s work shirt is stuck to the sweat on the back of his neck. He’s just finished having lunch with Ron in Diagon Alley and decided to duck into Flourish and Blotts to see if he can find a birthday gift for Hermione before he has to head back to work.

Her birthday is still a few weeks out, so he’s just casually browsing some of the titles near the back of the store when he hears someone come up behind him.

“Hi! Is there something I can help you find?”

The person’s voice is sweet and melodic and when Harry turns around he’s met with a familiar face. The young woman looking at him is earth shatteringly beautiful and his mind races as he tries to figure out where he knows her from.

“Oh, Harry! How’s it going? It’s nice to see you,” the woman says as they make eye contact, a smile spreading across her face. When Harry still doesn’t say anything, too entranced by her beauty, she continues. “I’m Y/N. I was in the year above you at school,” she reminds him with a laugh.

Harry remembers her instantly, a pretty embarrassing memory of him tumbling into her lap in the common room while he was messing around with Ron coming to the forefront of his mind. He scratches the back of his head, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Oh yeah, Y/N. I’m doing well, thanks. Sorry about all of that. I’m pretty awful with names,” he says awkwardly, as if the words are fumbling out of his mouth.

She waves away his apology, the smile never leaving her face, which puts Harry at ease. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like we ever really hung out,” Y/N pauses, and Harry wonders if the same memory that came to his mind has come back to her. “And you had way more important things to be thinking about back in those days.”

“Yeah, my brain is pretty empty these days,” he responds. A moment later he realizes how idiotic that was and he’s tempted to hit himself over the head with one of the heavy books on the shelf behind him. “Not empty, empty. Just not being possessed by Voldemort,” he continues desperately trying to save their conversation. “Wait, that sounds wrong. What I’m trying to say is. Honestly I have no idea what I’m trying to say.”

Y/N laughs again, and Harry swears it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “I get what you’re trying to say. I think at least. Not too sure about that whole Voldemort thing, but I’ll let that one slide.” She sends Harry a wink and he can feel his heart flutter in his chest.

“I’ve got to get back to work, unfortunately,” he sighs, realizing the time. “But it was nice to see you again. And maybe I will see you again, some day in the future.”

What Harry meant to say, was that he would be back in the store again soon and that he’d see her then, but he just couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. He gives Y/N a final, awkward nod, before he leaves the store, too in his own head to see the pink flush on her cheeks.

Harry had spent the rest of his workday sitting at his desk, replaying the awkward interaction he’d had with Y/N over and over in his head. It’s been a long time since Harry has been embarrassed about his lack of social skills, but he can’t help but feel flustered as he goes through the situation over and over again. Y/N had been absolutely captivating, and he had been, well, less than stellar. But he’s determined to go back there and get it right. So, when the workday is done he heads straight back to Diagon Alley.

“Harry!” Y/N says excitedly when he enters the shop for the second time that day. “Back again so soon?” Her tone is light and teasing, causing Harry to smile at her.

“I thought I might see you here again.” Of course, you would see her here again you idiot, she works here he scolds himself. “Hang on, that’s not what I meant to say,” he continues with a nervous laugh. He takes a deep breath, his shoulders tensing up as he tries to find the right words in the jumble of his brain. “What I mean to say was, I wanted to see you again.”

Y/N can feel her face flushing, and she immediately drops her gaze to the papers in front of her and begins to fuss with them. “I was uh, hoping that you’d come back in, actually.”

“Really?” Harry asks in surprise. When Y/N nods Harry feels his shoulders relax and he takes a few tentative steps towards the counter she’s standing behind.

Y/N takes a moment to compose herself before she finally is able to look up at Harry, her cheeks still flushed. “Yes, really. You’re quite captivating, Mr. Potter.”

Harry’s mouth opens and closes several times at her sentiment, trying to work out what exactly to say next. When he had thought back through their earlier conversation he had used many adjectives to describe his behavior, idiotic and embarrassing had been the most frequent, but none of them even came close to the level of captivating. If anything, he had been captivated by her, he was mesmerized by her smile and her warmth.

“Really?” It’s not the words he wants to come out of his mouth, but it’s the only one his brain has managed to remember. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. Usually he can stumble his way through a conversation and come out seeming somewhat normal, but whenever he’s around Y/N it’s as if he’s forgotten how to speak at all.

“Yes, really,” she says again, a small giggle falling from her lips. “I’ve got to start closing up the store now. But, do you maybe wanna get dinner? Perhaps this weekend?” She scribbles something down on a spare piece of parchment and holds it out to Harry. “Here’s my address. Just send me an owl.”

Harry gives her a curt nod and grabs the piece of parchment from her. Their fingers lightly brush against each other and Harry feels like his hand is on fire. “Brilliant,” he says with a quick smile, before he’s turning on his heel and fleeing from the store.

Owl me when you get home, so I know you’re safe.

Thankfully Harry is much better at getting his point across when he’s writing it down. Not wanting to seem too eager, Harry waited until he returned home from work the next day to send an owl to Y/N. He thought about waiting longer, but it was already Thursday and he really wanted to see her again over the weekend.

He’s on his seventh piece of parchment when he finally manages to find the right thing to say. He wanted to be eloquent to try and make up for his disastrous attempts at a conversation in person. But after his fourth failed attempt, he decided to just be himself. He keeps it simple and after rereading it a few times he sends it off to her so that he can’t over think it any more than he already has.

Y/N,

It was really, really nice to see you the other day. I hope you’ll meet me outside the Leaky Cauldron at 6 pm on Saturday so that I can take you out to dinner.

Yours,

HJP

Oh, it’s Harry by the way, Harry Potter. I wasn’t sure if you would know what my initials are. Anyway, I hope to see you again soon.

Harry watches his owl fly away and when she’s no longer visible he relaxes back against his couch, already thinking about how he’s going to mess up his date on Saturday.

-

Saturday at 6 pm arrives before Harry is quite mentally prepared, but as Y/N approaches him all his worries wash away. She looks breathtaking, and Harry can do nothing but wave weakly as she approaches.

Y/N smiles warmly at Harry, giggling to herself as she watches him fidget. She finds how awkward he is endearing, especially considering how famous he is. Growing up Y/N had been told stories about the entire Potter family, and how their bravery had led to the defeat of Voldemort. Harry’s fame had only grown during the years she had known him at school, since it seemed that he came face to face with Voldemort every year and managed to escape alive every time. So, it’s nice to see that even after all of that fame, even after his heroics during the war, he’s still a bit unsure of himself.

“Hi, Harry,” she greets cheerily.

Harry somehow manages to return her smile, despite the fact that she’s standing so close to him he can smell her perfume. “Hi, Y/N. You look like sunshine.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Harry. You look very nice too.”

They stand there for a few seconds in silence before Harry realizes he should probably say something. He holds his arm out for her, which Y/N takes happily. “Let’s do this thing.”

-

Harry had chosen a muggle restaurant not too far from the Leaky Cauldron for their date. Despite the fact that it’s been a few years since the war and life has gone back to normal, Harry can’t really go anywhere in the Wizarding World without being approached. And usually he doesn’t mind, but he’s awkward enough around Y/N as it is, he doesn’t need to throw a half a dozen strangers asking him questions into the mix.

Once they reach the restaurant they’re seated at a table quickly, and it’s only once the hostess has left them alone that Harry realizes he’s going to have to spend the next few hours making conversation.

Sensing Harry’s sudden nervousness, Y/N makes the first move and starts a light conversation about the menu and what kind of food she likes to eat. Her soft voice puts Harry at ease, and he manages to follow in her lead, his words only getting caught in his throat a handful of times.

Harry manages to make it through dinner semi-successfully. He flounders his words a few times, and he somehow accidentally ends up insinuating that Ginny is his girlfriend, “No not my girlfriend, my friend who also happens to be a girl. A female,” he had stuttered out when Y/N’s jaw dropped open.” But luckily Y/N was patient with him, and she laughed it off.

As they head back towards the Leaky Cauldron, their pinky fingers linked, Harry feels like he’s on Cloud 9. While Harry had suffered some embarrassing moments, Y/N never seemed to mind. As their dinner went on he felt more and more at ease, like he had been talking with Ron or Hermione.

When they reach the Leaky Cauldron, Y/N turns to face Harry, and he can feel his nerves from earlier return.

Y/N leans forward and presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek, causing both of them to blush. “I had a really great time tonight, Harry. We should definitely do it again.”

“I did too. And I would really like that,” he forces out once his heart rate returns back to normal. His cheek burns where Y/N’s lips had touched, and he has to stop himself from reaching up to touch it.

“Great,” she breathes, her eyes twinkling. “Bye.”

Harry means to tell her to let him know that she gets home safe, but the words get caught in his throat. “Let me know when you’re safe. With an owl. Oh, for Godric’s sake,” he mutters, placing his head in his hands. He takes a deep breath before he looks back to Y/N, a soft smile on her face. “Owl me when you get home, so I know you’re safe. That’s what I meant to say.”

Y/N laughs lightly, and she presses another quick kiss to his cheek. “Yeah of course Harry. Have a good night.”

Harry stands there in disbelief as Y/N walks away, his hand finally coming up to lightly touch his face where he can still feel the imprint of her lips. “Brilliant.”

You never cease to amaze me.

After their first date, Y/N and Harry see each other often, much to Harry’s delight and surprise. He wasn’t usually very lucky with his romantic endeavors, mostly due to his less than wonderful way with words and his just general awkwardness. The closest thing he had to a girlfriend was Cho Chang in 5th year, but he had accidentally led Cho to believe that he was in love with Hermione on their one, and only, date.

But thankfully for Harry, Y/N doesn’t seem to care that he isn’t the best at conversing. Whenever he says the wrong thing or his words come out in jumbles she’s patient with him, allowing him to figure out the right way to say it. Although now that they’ve been going out for a few weeks, sometimes when Harry starts to get embarrassed Y/N just kisses him instead, and Harry has no problem with that. He’s a much better kisser than he is a conversationalist, which makes both Y/N and him infinitely happy.

Even though Harry and Y/N have seen each other nearly every day since their first date three weeks ago they haven’t made anything official. Harry cares for Y/N deeply, and his feelings for her grow every day, but this is important to him and he wants to be able to find the right words to say so he can get them out confidently.

Harry pushes the door to Y/N’s flat open after waiting a few moments for her to respond to his knock. It feels weird for him to walk in without being invited in, but she had told him a specific time to be over tonight, so it won’t be a surprise if she suddenly finds him in her flat. As he steps through the door he can hear noises coming from Y/N’s kitchen, and the air smells of tomato and basil.

He can hear Y/N quietly singing to herself and he creeps towards the kitchen, wanting to hear her better. He peaks in from around the corner, an instant smile appearing on his face. Instead of seeing a knife chop by itself as ingredients fly through the air like Harry had expected, he’s surprised to see that Y/N is cooking the muggle way.

Having been raised by muggles, Harry still felt weird using magic to do some things, and he has already cooked the muggle way for Y/N a few different times. Each time she had sat on the counter, watching him with amazement. Harry had even accidentally overcooked the chicken when a lesson in chopping an onion turned into a heated make out session.

Harry stands in the doorway to Y/N’s kitchen, smiling at her back like an idiot. She’s quietly singing along to the Weird Sisters song that’s coming from the record player in her living room as she stirs something in a pot on the stove. She looks absolutely gorgeous, and Harry has to swallow hard to keep the word vomit he can feel building in his throat down. He wants to say everything he’s been feeling since their first conversation in Flourish and Blotts, whether it comes out the way he wants it to or not.

“You never cease to amaze me,” he says suddenly, causing Y/N to shout and clutch her chest.

She spins around to face Harry, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Merlin you scared me! How long were you standing there?” she asks, coming up to wrap her arms around Harry’s neck.

Harry’s arms immediately wrap around her waist and he pulls their bodies together as he presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “Just a few minutes. You seemed like you were pretty into it, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Y/N laughs, and kisses Harry again briefly. “So, I amaze you, huh?”

Harry nods, releasing Y/N so she can go back to cooking. “Of course you do. You’re smart and beautiful. You have an amazing sense of humor and you have the amazing ability to look past my chronic foot in mouth syndrome,” he says with a chuckle, causing Y/N to laugh as well.

Don’t get up, I’ll do it.

Harry and Y/N quickly fall into a routine in their relationship. They go out on dates three times during the work week. They alternate between doing things in the wizard world and the muggle world. Y/N is fascinated by muggle things and Harry loves watching her eyes light up as he introduces her to the world he grew up in.

Saturdays are always reserved for quiet nights in at one of their flats. Sometimes they order in, or they cook a meal the muggle way together, but no matter how their evening starts it always ends the same way, too much wine and cuddles on the couch while some random movie plays in the background.

This particular Saturday they’re at Harry’s flat. He’s sitting on the couch, Y/N’s head in his lap as they watch some movie Harry can’t be bothered to remember the name of.  It’s one of the first cold nights of the year and Y/N is cuddled under a blanket Mrs. Weasley had knit for Harry while a fire burns in the fireplace. Harry isn’t paying too much attention to the movie, he’s too busy watching the flames dance on Y/N’s face as he strokes her hair.

Harry has just tangled his fingers in Y/N’s hair when she shivers, causing Harry’s soft smile to turn into a frown. “Are you cold? I could get you another blanket.”

Y/N shakes her head and brings a hand up to squeeze Harry’s knee. “No. Just, content.”

Harry chuckles. “So, you’re shivering, because you’re content? I have to say love that’s one of the weirdest things I’ve heard, and I’ve said some pretty weird stuff.”

They both laugh at that. In the few months its’ been since Y/N and Harry met he’s been getting more comfortable around her, and his word fumbles have occurred less and less often. The only time he seems to be speechless or say something weird is in the bedroom because when Y/N has her hands on him his brain turns to absolute mush. He still has a hard time expressing just how he feels but considering the fact that she’s still around Harry thinks she knows just how much he cares for her.

They sit there in a comfortable silence, Y/N still watching the movie and Harry watching her. When she starts to get up, Harry presses her hip down into the couch, forcing her to stay there. “What do you need? A drink? A snack? Don’t get up, I’ll get it.”

Y/N giggles and wiggles in Harry’s grip, trying to get him to let go. “Harry, love that’s very sweet of you but I need to go to the loo. So, unless you’ve figured out a way to do that for me you’re gonna have to let me up.”

Harry immediately let’s go, a pink blush forming on his cheeks. “I-I-I,” he stutters out as she gets up. She presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek and the last coherent thought he had in his head flies out the window.

“I appreciate the sentiment though, love,” she says with a chuckle before disappearing deeper into Harry’s flat.

“I am a bloody idiot,” he mutters to himself, unable to contain his smile.

I love you.

Harry and Y/N have been together for 8 months when Harry starts to feel pressure. He’s in love with her, and he has been for quite a while. He falls deeper and deeper every day, but he still hasn’t managed to say it. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to say it, every time he sees her he wants to shout it at the top of his lungs. And he’s tried to say it, many times, but each time he couldn’t manage to get the words out and he ended up saying something else instead.

“You seem to be deep in thought over there. What’s on your mind?” Y/N’s voice brings Harry out of his head and back into the present. Her tone is light, but he can hear the concern in her voice. They’re sitting outside of Florean’s, having some ice cream after a heated round of minigolf. Despite the fact that it was her first time playing, Y/N managed to beat Harry by quite a lot, and they had laughed about it the whole way there.

Harry reaches out to grab her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Just thinking about you,” he answers honestly. She’s all he ever seems to be able to think about, no matter the time or place Y/N is always on his mind. Harry smiles when she blushes, his thumb starting to rub circles on the back of her hand.

“Thinking about how I just smoked you in minigolf?” she asks with a laugh.

No matter how many times Harry has heard her laugh it never fails to give him butterflies.

“A little bit, yes,” he chuckles. “But I’m also thinking about how beautiful you are. And how much I love your laugh. And how happy you make me.”

Y/N leans forward and kisses Harry. Her mouth is cold from the ice cream and it sends a shiver down his spine. “I love you,” she whispers a moment later when she pulls away. “And it’s okay if you can’t say it yet, love. Because I know you love me too.”

“You do?” Harry asks in disbelief.

Y/N nods and kisses him again. “You say it all the time without actually really saying it. Like when you come see me at work on your lunch break just because you miss me. Or when you make sure I get home safe. And when you just stand there and stare at me with so much adoration it makes me feel like I’m going to explode. You may not always be able to tell people how you feel, but you’re amazing at showing it.”

Harry lunges forward and kisses Y/N, their ice cream forgotten on the table and melting everywhere. But he can’t really find it in him to care. He loves the woman in front of him so much he’d let the world melt around them before he dared to even look away from her. Very few people really understand Harry and how he communicates, so the fact that Y/N does it so effortlessly makes him want to drop on one knee and promise to give her the world.

But as he pulls away from her mouth he resists that urge. Partially because he doesn’t have a ring, and he wants to give Y/N the biggest diamond he can find. But mostly because there are other things he should say to her before asking for her hand in marriage.

“I love you,” he breathes. Their foreheads are pressed together, and it feels like they’re the only people in the world.  I know may not always say the right thing, or anything really. So even if I don’t quite say it, know that I feel it. I will always show you that I love you, even if I can’t find the right words to tell you.”

[dwellordream]

“During the years of Eleanor of Aquitaine’s captivity, 1174–89, she disappears almost entirely from sight. According to one account, Henry II ordered her confined in “well guarded strong places”; and she was first housed under close supervision in the royal castle at Sarum, or Old Salisbury, although later she can be located occasionally at other royal castles in southern England. As a woman, Eleanor received more lenient treatment than men captured while taking part in an armed rebellion; and Henry may have chosen Salisbury Castle for her detention as a gesture of leniency, for its residential quarters, a large quadrangle next to the keep, had been one of her favored abodes during her earlier years as queen.

According to a chronicler at Limoges, Henry imprisoned his queen at Salisbury Castle, “on guard against her reverting to her machinations.” The king’s fear was Eleanor’s continued involvement in the intrigues of their quarrelsome sons, and he tried to ensure that no communication passed between them. Yet he could not afford to treat her too harshly, for that would only have added to the hatred that Young Henry, Richard, and Geoffrey already felt for him. Earlier, both Anglo-Norman monarchs and counts of Anjou had not hesitated to imprison defeated nobles, including near-relatives, for years, often under such harsh conditions that they lost their health, if not their lives. 

A queen’s long captivity was startling, but imprisonment of great ladies was not unprecedented. In medieval vernacular literature, tales were not uncommon of aristocratic ladies locked away for years, many of them by their own families, and history records many noble maidens whose fathers were forced to turn them over to their lords as hostages. Henry II could have made other choices for ridding himself of the threat presented by Eleanor to the stability of his rule. She could simply have disappeared during her captivity at Chinon, but young Arthur of Brittany’s mysterious disappearance from Rouen Castle later during John’s reign shows that such a solution would have created more problems than it solved. 

Rumors that John had murdered his nephew with his own hands quickly spread, and it sapped his subjects’ loyalty to him, crippling him in his contest with his archenemy Philip of France. Certainly rumors of Eleanor’s death while in Henry’s hands following his suspected role in the murder of Becket would have had a similar effect. His wife’s murder would have aroused revulsion throughout Europe, and it would have so enraged the Poitevins that Plantagenet rule over them would have been impossible. In any case, Henry’s character had little in common with that of the insecure and overly suspicious John, and although severe and vengeful, he lacked his youngest son’s depraved cruelty that surfaced once he was king. 

An option that great men had often chosen in earlier centuries for dealing with wayward or unwanted wives was immuring them in convents. Henry II considered such a step in 1175–76, when his adulterous affair with Rosamund Clifford was at its most passionate stage. A contemporary writer claimed that Henry, having imprisoned his queen, no longer tried to hide his adultery, and publicly displayed as his mistress, “not a rose of the world (mundi rosa) . . . , but more truly might be called the rose of an impure husband (immundi rosa).” 

Apparently Henry was not worried that dissolution of his marriage to Eleanor would threaten his authority over her duchy of Aquitaine. Despite Louis VII’s loss of Aquitaine as a result of his divorce, Henry seemed confident that Richard’s formal installation as duke of Aquitaine and count of Poitou would keep Eleanor’s lands safely in Plantagenet hands. Henry saw an opportunity to secure a divorce from Eleanor at the time of a mission to England by a papal legate, sent from Rome to settle one of the endless quarrels between the kingdom’s two archbishops. On the papal representative’s arrival in England in autumn 1175, the king received him with honor, showering him with gifts and flattery. 

Henry assumed that the cardinal would agree readily to a dissolution of his marriage on grounds of consanguinity, since Louis VII had won a divorce for that reason, and Henry’s kinship to Eleanor was even closer than her relationship to her first husband. The English king allegedly offered his queen release from her captivity during his Easter court at Winchester in 1176, if she would agree to enter a religious house, no doubt Fontevraud Abbey, probably with the prospect of becoming abbess there. The abbey had a reputation as a residence for noble ladies seeking refuge from wordly affairs, but Eleanor was unwilling to join them, not even if installed as abbess, and she and her sons resisted Henry’s plan. 

She even appealed to the archbishop of Rouen against being packed off to Fontevraud, and he refused to give his consent to Henry’s plan. As the archbishop of Rouen’s role shows, the Church’s opposition was another obstacle to Henry in ridding himself of Eleanor, and his projected divorce was not to be easily accomplished. After Becket’s martyrdom, the English king had little credit with the papacy or with churchmen in England or elsewhere in Europe. He was in no position to pressure a pope firmly opposed to approving a divorce, particularly one who was doubtless aware of rumors that he desired the divorce in order to marry his mistress. 

Whatever the possibility of Henry II setting his queen aside and taking Rosamund Clifford as his wife, events intervened to prevent it, for his beloved mistress died late in 1176 or in 1177. His fair Rosamund was buried at Godstow Priory in Oxfordshire only a few miles from their trysting place at Woodstock. Around the time of Rosamund’s death the patron of Godstow, an Oxfordshire baron, assigned his patronage rights over the house to Henry in order that it should be held “in chief of the king’s crown, as the Abbey of Saint Edmund and other royal abbeys throughout the kingdom of England are constituted.” This elevation in Godstow’s status reflects Henry’s deep feelings for his mistress, a desire to honor the convent that housed her tomb and to place the nuns watching over it under royal protection. 

In the years following Rosamund’s death, Henry showed great generosity to the Godstow nuns, making them cash grants and giving them timber for their building projects. Soon gossip was circulating that Henry II’s desire for an annulment of his marriage was not in order to wed Rosamund Clifford, but so that he could marry instead the sixteen-year-old Alix of France, a maiden whom he had already “unchastely, and with too much want of faith, dishonored.” Alix’s father Louis VII had betrothed her to Richard at the Montmirail settlement of 1169, and he had handed her over to be raised at her future father-in-law’s court. 

Henry’s ravishing of young Alix was far more shameful to contemporaries than his affair with Rosamund Clifford, for he had taken advantage of a girl entrusted to him as his ward when she was only nine to remain in his household until she reached the proper age for marrying Richard. In taking her to his bed, he had not only violated her trust, but also the trust of her father, his lord the French king, as well as that of his own son. This affair had begun during the queen’s absences from court, but given the rapid circulation of rumors from the royal court, Eleanor heard of the scandal almost at once, whether still in Poitou or sequestered in England later. 

The queen would learn that Henry did not limit his adulterous affairs to Alix of France while she was in captivity. He sired another illegitimate son by a Welsh woman, Nest, married to one of his knights from southwestern England. He acknowledged the boy, named Morgan, who became a cleric and eventually was named provost of Beverley, Yorkshire, a lucrative ecclesiastical living that English kings often granted to high-ranking royal servants. News of the king’s liaison with Alix must have left Eleanor appalled, for the king’s conduct not only grossly violated aristocratic standards of honorable behavior, but also betrayed and humiliated her favorite son. 

It gave both Eleanor and Richard yet another grievance against Henry. According to a courtier’s hostile account, the king hoped by means of new heirs born to his new favorite that he might “be able effectually to disinherit his former sons by Eleanor, who had troubled him.” The story of Henry II’s seduction of Alix is not simply another scurrilous tale told by his enemies, for several sources corroborate it. Henry was curiously reluctant to carry out the princess’s long-delayed marriage to Richard, despite periodic protests from Louis VII and Philip II and from high-ranking churchmen including the pope complaining on their behalf. 

Strongest evidence for the accusation’s accuracy, however, is Richard Lionheart’s own resistance to marrying Alix. Roger of Howden, a chronicler with access to court circles, records Richard’s excuse offered to Philip, her half-brother, for refusing to marry his betrothed of many years at the outset of the Third Crusade. He quotes Richard as telling the French king, “I do not reject your sister; but it is impossible for me to marry her, for my father had slept with her and had a son by her.” Richard then added that he could present many witnesses capable of testifying to the truth of his statement. 

At the time, the English king was in the embarrassing position of preparing to take a Spanish princess as his bride, and he needed a potent excuse for breaking off his engagement to Alix. The Lionheart’s most respected modern biographer finds it difficult to discount Howden’s “explicit statement.” Furthermore, the Lionheart need not have lodged such a bitter accusation against his own father in order to justify his rejection of Alix; he could simply have declared that she had borne another man’s child without naming the father.

…As years passed Eleanor was allowed to make sojourns at other castles, certainly to Winchester and Windsor and perhaps as far west as Devonshire, where she had held substantial lands. Within Winchester Castle was a series of buildings that together formed the equivalent of a royal palace; and during Henry II’s reign repairs and additions to the residential quarters were constantly under way.  At Winchester, the queen probably encountered her daughter-in-law, Margaret, wife of the Young King, who was a frequent visitor there, for works undertaken in 1174–75 included construction of an addition “where the young queen hears mass.”

In 1176, Robert Mauduit received a payment of almost three pounds by the king’s order, apparently for Eleanor’s expenses during Henry’s Easter court held that year at Winchester. That court marked the last time that she would see all four of her sons together. Richard and Geoffrey had crossed from France for the feast, and they returned to the Continent with their father. Henry the Young King and his queen also left England after Easter, and he would be away from the kingdom for three years before returning for another Easter court at Winchester. 

The dullness of Eleanor’s life was brightened by the betrothal of her youngest daughter Joanne in 1176. The captive Eleanor had no voice in negotiations for the eleven-year-old girl’s hand, but she would have been filled with pride at Joanne’s selection as the bride of William II, king of Sicily. William’s kingdom was the creation of eleventh-century Norman adventurers incorporating both Sicily and the southern Italian mainland and heir to traditions of the island’s previous occupiers, Greeks, Romans, and Arabs. 

Years earlier Eleanor had seen first-hand the island’s splendors at their height under King Roger II, when her ship from the Holy Land, blown off course, landed her at the cosmopolitan city of Palermo in 1149. By the time William succeeded to the throne, however, Sicily’s greatness was fading into a sort of “Indian summer.” Henry II had sought a Sicilian marriage for one of his daughters earlier, and the project was revived in May 1176, when ambassadors from the Sicilian royal court came to England. They were entertained at Winchester, where Joanne was residing and where Eleanor had remained for a time after the Easter court. 

The young princess’s beauty impressed the envoys, and Henry agreed to her betrothal to the young Sicilian ruler. English emissaries set off for Sicily to negotiate the marriage settlement, arriving at Palermo in early August. Perhaps the queen helped in readying her daughter’s trousseau and prepared her for life at the Sicilian royal court by recalling her own visit there years earlier. After Joanne’s departure for her new home, her mother could not have expected to see her ever again, but chance would reunite them on two occasions many years later. In September 1176 Joanne left Winchester for Palermo, loaded with clothing, gold and silver plate, and other impressive gifts to take to her new island home; the cost of one of her robes, no doubt her wedding dress, was over £114.25 

In February 1177 in the Palatine Chapel at Palermo, she married William, a young man of twenty-two, and her coronation as his queen quickly followed. Joanne’s Sicilian marriage aroused greater interest among the English than had her two elder sisters’ marriages earlier to foreign princes. English adventurers journeyed south to seek their fortunes, attracted by accounts of the island kingdom’s riches. Artistic and literary inspiration flowed northward from Sicily; mosaics in Sicily’s Byzantine-style churches influenced English wall-paintings and manuscript miniatures, and the Sicilian kingdom became a setting for English romances.”

- Ralph V. Turner,  “A Captive Queen’s Lost Years, 1174–1189.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 8

This is the chapter of which I had published an excerpt the very first time, so here’s finally the full version ! This is one of my favorites, I hope this will also be the case for you 💕

(Link for Chapter 9 here)

Chapter 8 : Your powers are still there

The door slammed shut and I felt Lance's large body pass near me, brushing my arm nonchalantly as it passed. My stomach contracted in apprehension.

I had most likely just interrupted him during a workout because, without ever completely turning his back on me, he grabbed a towel and quickly wiped his abdomen before putting on some of his armor, completely covering his neck and chest.

- Are you afraid that I will try to attack you from behind again ? I said ironically to see him cover himself like this, especially the back of his neck.

The dragon smirked at my remark. He stole a glance at me as he finished covering himself.

- You know very well that it is you who would gain the most to protect yourself in my presence rather than the other way around, he replied as naturally as possible. If I wanted to, I could have killed you in the market place without anyone seeing anything.

Good.

- It's just that I never completely remove my armor in the presence of another person, just a matter of habit, he explained to me then.

An ironic pout on his lips, he added :

- And indeed, I understood that you were rather unpredictable, as a girl. I prefer to avoid the risk of attacks in the back.

- At least I'm making an impression, I continued in the same vein. Should I also fear for my survival by leaving the door closed ?

My question was meant to be amused, but his indecipherable gaze still gave me a slight doubt.

- For you to see if you decide to trust me or not, I could completely lie to you by telling you that you do not fear anything here.

Where was he, the sensible little smile to accompany this kind of thinking ?

- But you came on your own, so I take it you know what you're doing, he finally concluded.

If he knew how much I had no idea...

I looked away to observe the room around me (and potentially discreetly analyze my chances of running away from here in the event of a life or death story), never having had the opportunity to see in which type of place Lance could live well. Another detail ends up intriguing me. The room was really ... sober. Other than a bed, all kinds of weapons and armor, and a few books, the room showed no particular sign of singularity. Having probably noticed that I was inspecting his lair with my eyes, Lance explained to me with a shrug :

- I don't particularly like wasting my time settling somewhere, I have relatively few personal effects.

Much more than its sobriety, I was also surprised to realize that the room was perfectly tidy. Having arrived unexpectedly, it would have been normal to find even two or three things that were out of place, but nothing seemed to hang around despite my research.

- Why don't you like to settle down ? I asked him, genuinely curious to know his way of seeing things.

My question seemed to catch him off guard too, for he seemed to be trying to find his words for a moment.

- I just think I never really had a home.

I turned to observe him. Looking thoughtful, he didn't seem to have noticed me.

- I've always migrated quite a bit, and even if it's not the first time I've moved somewhere for a long time like here, I prefer not to get too attached to a place and be free to leave when I want. Moreover, as a warrior, you have to know how to be ready for any eventuality and not get too attached to such trivial things.

I pondered his words as silence fell between us. Lance really had a knack for turning everything into drama.

Or the bombastic.

- But every good warrior must have a home waiting for him somewhere, right ?

- When you have one, probably yes. But what connects me to this place is not one of them.

I thought back to what I had been told about Lance's return to custody. His need to redeem himself was probably the only thing holding him back here. The memories in that place were probably going to hurt more than anything to him. He had suffered a real emotional shock, even though he had totally sought it out.

- I think I understand what you mean, I started cautiously. Me neither, I don't really have a home anymore, with the difference that I already had one. When I got to Eldarya, I lost everything else. Everything that made Earth home to me.

Memories of arriving here flooded through my head, especially the potion Miiko had forced me to drink soon after. It was clearly not glorious, but at least it had made it a little less difficult for me to accept this forced new start.

- I finally managed to recreate a semblance of home here, but then...

Seeing that I did not continue my sentence, the dragon deduced it for me.

- I pushed you to sacrifice yourself and lose everything once again.

His words were harsh, brittle, yet he let no emotion betray his face. He pursed his lips as if to keep from adding something. I was confused.

- Yes, I breathed so low I doubted he heard me.

- Look, I'm not going to apologize again. If that's what you're here for, you can leave, nothing is holding you back and certainly not me.

His jaws were twitching as he spoke, which irritated me in turn.

- I'm not here tonight to blame you or try to make you apologize, so you don't need to make those kinds of threats to me. And I'm a big girl, know that if I want to leave I don't need your approval.

- We at least agree on this point.

It was my turn to cringe. Damn, why was he being so rude again ?

- I'm glad to see that you still have your bad temper anyway, I said bitterly.

He gave a sharp laugh that made my hair stand on end.

- People don't change fundamentally, Andraste. They each evolve in their own way, but their nature remains the same. Remember that living in redemption doesn't change who I am.

- So you're telling me that all the nice words I've been hearing about you for weeks are wrong ?

- That's not what I'm saying and I don't know what you've been told about me. Anyway, I don't want to know, even if I have my little idea about it.

- Oh, but I don't doubt that, no. You have to believe that you did a good job of putting everyone in your pocket.

I could see his jaws twitching sharply under his tanned skin.

- That's not what you think, Andraste.

- I thought you had nothing to do with what I thought ?

- Do not distort my words.

- So you have something to do with it ?

- That's not what I said either, stop playing it.

I put my fingers over my eyes, trying to calm the anger rising in me. He might be working for Eldarya's good now, but other than that he definitely hadn't changed. Lance might have been calmer and more thoughtful than before, but he still remained the same to some extent. It all reminded me too much of Ashkore.

- Look, I don't even know why I decided to come see you here, but what is certain is that it was a mistake. We are definitely not meant to get along, you and me.

Pissed off and frustrated, I headed for the door to leave this stuffy place, when his hand grabbed my forearm and stopped my gesture.

- Andraste, calm down.

I didn't answer. I just waited for him to make up his mind to let go of me, still turning my back on him.

- You still haven't told me why you came here, he continued.

- I already told you, I had no particular reason, so let me go please. I thought you won't hold me back.

- I won't hold you back when you explain it to me.

His tone was dry, but nonetheless he pulled gently on my arm to push me to face him. With our sleeves rolled up, this was the first time our two bare skins had touched each other, the dragon usually always wearing gloves, and that contact felt like pricking my skin. Feeling a strange sensation arise in me, I finally unwrapped everything for him, trying to hold back my tears of frustration in the process.

- I feel lost, Lance. I feel like I have to start all over again, except this time around, a chasm seems to separate me from those I already knew. I am tired, my body can no longer keep up. And I feel ...

I looked for a moment at his hand, which was still holding my forearm firmly, the paleness of my skin contrasting sharply with the tanned complexion of his, before looking up at him.

- Incomplete, I finally concluded. I feel like my body needs to regain its powers, but I can't.

Lance observed me for a long time before lowering his eyes in turn.

- Look.

I followed his movement to discover a soft light escaping from my palm held between us. I was speechless.

- How...

My voice stopped. Why were my powers awakening at this precise moment? Since that famous training with him, I had tried several times to use them again, but each of my attempts had resolutely turned out to be luck.

Lance's fingers grew colder and colder and soon, faint streaks of ice appeared on my skin and descended to the heat source in the palm of my hand. When the two elements met, I felt an incredible force spread in me and with the same impulse, the light which escaped from my extremity suddenly burst a bluish color. My hand and arm were almost completely covered in ice, but yet I only felt a slight chill run through me.

He released the pressure on my arm before sliding his fingers until finally let go of me. When the contact between our skins broke, my light flickered for a moment before disappearing. No more sign of magic marked my numb member.

- Your powers are still there, Andraste.

He paused before adding :

- And obviously, they seem to react to mine.

I didn't understand exactly where he was going.

- To react to yours, what do you mean by that?

The dragon had let go of me, but he still didn't back down. His large build blocked my view, I only saw him.

- I don't know exactly, I’ve never had this kind of reaction before. But aengels and dragons have a rather complicated common past, that would explain some events like this one.

I thought back to the fight Leiftan and I had faced him seven years ago. Our powers had as it were merged that day. I thought this only happened because we were both aengels, but was it possible between beings of different origins ?

- Have you ever heard of people merging their powers? I inquired, nervous at the thought of his answer which I certainly wasn't going to like.

His gaze remained impenetrable.

- Apart from Leiftan and you, no, not that I know of. But our races being extinct, we know very little about these kinds of facts.

A memory came back to me then.

- And Fáfnir, he could tell us more !

Lance didn't move but I felt him imperceptibly tighten, which made me anguish. I asked the question that nagged me cautiously.

- Something wrong with Fáfnir ?

He seemed to hesitate to answer me for a moment, but finally spoke, his tone heavy.

- Andraste ... he breathed in contrition and I thought I saw a few sparks of ice escaping from his lips. Memoria is gone, he said, and the dragon's eye too.

I was speechless in amazement. He gave me a few seconds to digest the information before continuing cautiously.

- We don't know where the dragon souls are at the moment. Shortly before you woke up, quite a few unexplained events like this happened. Fáfnir is ... nowhere to be found, let's say.

For the first time, the man's gaze in front of me seemed to waver slightly. The dragon never let it show, but yet I knew it disturbed him more than he made it seem.

- Lance ...

- It's not important, he cut me coldly. We will inevitably find them eventually but for the moment, we cannot count on the knowledge of Fáfnir. However, I would like to know one thing.

I looked at him questioningly.

- How come my ice didn't do anything to you? You didn't seem to feel the cold.

I was taken aback. Granted, only Lance was the only one who really knew what was happening to my body after seeing the miraculous healing of my wound, and my unexplained blood loss, but I hadn't told him all the details I had. had counted on keeping for myself.

- It's probably because of this merging of powers thing, nothing more, I argued with a shrug that wanted to be nonchalant. We do not yet know anything about this phenomenon after all.

Unsurprisingly, the young man did not seem entirely convinced by my answer. He was definitely a formidable adversary, even in areas other than combat. It was my luck.

Cautiously, he moved closer to me, his gaze fixed on mine.

- So, you know if you trust me?

Getting a little closer, he lifted his hands and slowly directed them to my neck, probably giving me time to decide whether or not to let him.

- Let me try something, he whispered to me.

Cradled by the calm tone of his voice, I let his hands reach the thin skin that covered my neck. His long, slender fingers encircled the entire back of my neck, he barely touched me, as if he was afraid that I would push him away. I plunged my questioning gaze into his, his gaze totally focused on his task, when the tingling sensation I'd had earlier on his touch began again, this time where his hands covered me in.

His concentrated face was now tilted so close to mine that I only had to whisper for him to hear my question.

- What are you doing ?

I suddenly felt the same streaks of ice run through my skin. Rising to the bottom of my face, they marked my skin with a slight tickle. Despite everything, I only felt a small sensation of cold.

Lance smirked weakly.

- Breath, he intimated in a deep voice.

Without really knowing why he was asking me to do this, I still breathed weakly into the small space between us. It was then that with amazement, I observed light crystals of ice escaping from my mouth, until gradually transforming into a sort of bluish flame. I widened my eyes at this phenomenon, it was his dragon fire !

His smile widened then.

- A real little ice dragon.

A light expression floated on his face as he gently removed his hands from my neck, removing the last traces of ice that covered me. Slowly, he pulled away from me as well, putting a distance of convenience between us.

I was obsessed with the feeling of fierce power that had invaded me for a brief moment. So that was the strength of the dragons? This feeling of invincibility so primitive. I understood better why they were so formidable, when I had yet tasted only a tiny part of his powers.

- How did you do that? It was amazing!

The latter observed me, his face suddenly slightly serious.

- To be honest, I didn't think it would work. This is the first time that I have tried to impart some of my power to someone else, I didn't even know it was possible.

We both watched each other silently in the stillness of the room, each realizing the extent of the communion of our respective powers.

And it was ... almost scary, to be honest.

The dragon's voice finally broke our silence.

- Andraste, I will advise you not to tell anyone about this phenomenon for the moment, I do not yet know what that could imply.

I nodded without batting an eyelid, I totally agreed with that idea. On the other hand...

I fixed his blue eyes with a determined gaze.

- Lance, I would like you to help me regain my powers.

I paused, hesitating on what to do next.

- But maybe ... out of sight, like here.

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, a thin smile on his lips.

- The little human wants to make clandestine dates in my room ?

(Chapter 9)