#even victor says it- if his father had just taken a moment longer to explain to him about agrippa's natural philosophy

[loverboybrightsideghost]

not really formulating any thoughts right now but i am thinking about victor frankenstein and his well-adjusted childhood and how the very thing that led to his downfall was that he got excited about a book, an idea, and his father dismissed his interest so quickly and so casually that victor kept on that path, rebelling against his dad's dismissal of him, and if not for that, who knows if victor even would have went on to create the creature.

[too-destiny-panda]

Wyllvember Day 30: Epilogue

A/N: And so, the end of this wonderful event upon us. I would like to thank everyone that took the time to read, to comment and to like my fics. I would like to especially thank @sagscrib and @commander-yinello, both for posting their prompts that gave me the inspiration adn motivation I needed to write something, and for always taking the time to look over my works. As this is the last prompt of Wyllvember, I wrote two drabbles instead of one, as I believe our dear Wyll deserves two happy endings. And with that, I bid farewell to the month of November, and wish you all a wonderful rest of 2023. -Blue

WC: 1299

With each action taken, each word taken, people are making decisions that affect their destinies. Even a small thing such as deciding what colour to wear changes the course of the day. And this story truly had many different paths to take. This humble author has decided to explore two of them. Both of them are happy, for few deserve anything but happiness, and the person that is the object of my focus deserves it tenfold for all his sacrifices. So, instead of dwelling on the what if’s, digging through the misfortune that could befall him, this humble author has decided that for once, a happily ever after is in order. And what is better than one happy ending? Two, of course. And with that, this author bids you farewell. May your journeys be full of joy and discoveries.

Epilogue 1- The Blade of Avernus

As the Netherbrain fell, and everyone got their bearings, the parasites withering into nothing but dissipating arcane energy in their skulls, for the first time in weeks, the odd group of heroes could breathe. None of them could explain what they felt as weights have been lifted off shoulders, curses have been dispelled, bombs have been disarmed. It was magnificent. For just a few moments, they were the undeniable victors of their dilemma, the writers of their own destinies without any supernatural being dictating what they can and cannot do. Those few moments were dampened by the rising sun, Astarion’s skin greying and flaking off until he swiftly found cover. The second one was Karlach’s heart.

Everyone was aware of her condition, but the tiefling was surprisingly adept at hiding the severity of it up until now. And though it was clear something must be done to keep her alive, she waved off any concerns, saying that there was still a little bit of time before it became critical. And so, Wyll had little bit of downtime to spend with his lover, their talks of the future settling on travelling to Avernus to slay every fiend that shows ill will. When morning came, it was apparent that they would welcome a third person on their journey. Despite Karlach’s hesitation, they eventually convinced her to come with them, if only to buy her some time to fix the engine. And as they stepped into the Hell’s, the ones holding the strings (except for the archdevils and the especially arrogant cambions) shivered as an unfamiliar sense of dread accumulated in their entrails, it’s unknown source quickly approaching.

Few would venture into the Hells willingly, but when one survives a magically enhanced Elder Brain, three Chosen, and several other remarkable perils, they figure they might as well tempt fate for a little while longer. The three heroes carved a bloody path through fire and desolation, hunting and killing fiends of all ranks, with periodical check-ins with the Grand Duke, as the father-son bond slowly recovered. Eventually, they made enough disruptions for even Mizora to begin fearing for her life. Perhaps she thought that Zariel would protect her forever, perhaps she thought herself safe once the Blade of Frontiers lost his warlock powers. Whatever it was, she was wrong. For the Blade of Frontiers was no more, in his stead rising the Blade of Avernus, staunchly determined to keep her from harming the world with her existence anymore than she already has.

One day, a portal opened in an abandoned ruin in a forgotten corner of Faerun, three figures emerging from it. One was an imposing figure, the once jagged edge of a broken horn now slightly softened from headbutting, a mechanical heart no longer in danger of overheating but fully ready to make use of a certain blacksmith’s expertise. Another, with a crow perched on their shoulder, a quiet confidence in their posture as an acorn is held safely in a pouch around their neck. And finally, the last one, curved horns a contrast against the brightness of the portal, a blue skinned head held by its copper hair in one hand and a blade in the other. The Blade of Avernus has returned home at last, one victory closer to his goal.

Epilogue 2- Grand Duke Wyll Ravengard

Celebrations were held all over the lands, though the biggest merriment was surely in Baldur’s Gate, the city most threatened by the cult of the Absolute. The streets were still filled with debris and corpses of mind flayers and allies alike, some mourning their loved ones while celebrating a new dawn where they live to honour them. Even the strange gaggle of adventurers were celebrating, though there was an order of business first. By returning the Crown of Karsus to Mystra, Gale earned her favour and although he refused to become her Chosen, he did ask for one last favour: to keep Karlach from overheating. Of course, it was a temporary measure until a more permanent cooling system was found, but it lifted the mood, nonetheless.

Amidst the loud cheers and merry conversation, Wyll Ravengard stood off to the side, looking upon the ruins of the city as he contemplated his future. Grand Duke. A title he dreamed of as a boy, and one he quickly stopped dreaming about after he accompanied his father to one meeting. And now here he was, that title once again hovering in his mind, though this time it was a certainty. No longer would he be free to travel across the continent, slaying monsters and helping those in need. Instead, he would make important decisions, draft up and approve laws, navigate court intrigue to try and ensure the prosperity of the city and its surroundings. A bittersweet feeling rose in his chest at the thought of being guided by his father once again, though this time, he sensed, he wouldn’t be as strict, for fear of driving his son away once more. A lot of talking would have to take place between the two before the wound healed, and maybe it never would. But as long as Ulder was willing to do his best to atone, to earn his son’s forgiveness (no matter how much Wyll believed there was nothing to forgive), they could at least somewhat repair the bond they once shared.

Even as he woke up the next day, his partner pressed into his back, he still though about his newly acquired position. All the good he could do, as well as harm if he wasn’t careful. It has been a while since he navigated court intrigue, and he was admittedly rusty at some of the finer points of noble etiquette, but the arm thrown over his waist reminded him he wouldn’t be alone. The acorns safely kept in the pockets of their clothes were proof of the promise he had made, one he intended to fulfil as soon as possible. Whether it be a grand and lavish wedding, full of refreshments of the utmost quality with guests he had never even met before and a ceremony that could put a god to shame, or perhaps a small gathering of their closest friends and family, with a homey and relaxed atmosphere and a heartfelt gathering, it didn’t matter to him, as long as he could call them his on paper as well. His heart fluttered as he stroked their skin, anticipation and excitement building in his lungs at the thought of his newfound future.

And what a future it was. Soon, people far and wide heard of the just, kind but firm, Archduke Wyll Ravengard and his lovely spouse, their love so sickeningly romantic many blushed at the sight. And months later, news spread of a different kind of love and happiness, as seemingly everyone knew that the young Archduke was now granted a new title; father.

[thenovelartist]

Burned Beginnings, chapter 1

Novel decided to do Adrienette April on a whim. Each post until the end of April (or such is the plan) will have 3 prompts in it.

She also discovered she’s very rusty. Bear with me here. XD

Next>>

1. AU

Marinette had thought she’d grown used to Chloe’s bullying, having to had endure it since they were little. However, with high school came a new name that became a regular part of Chloe’s vocabulary, alongside “hot” and “sexy” and “dreamboat”.

“And Marinette would never catch the eye of someone so perfect.”

Honestly, Marinette had thought she was over it, but on a particularly bad day, she’d snapped back at Chloe.

“Well, clearly he isn’t that perfect if he fawns over someone whose only redeeming quality is pretending to be pretty.”

That had led to a fire alarm getting pulled and Marinette left to blame for it. Anyone who tried to come to her defense was shut down, and Marinette had been suspended.

Which had started an all-out war.

After being stuck at home, wrongfully, for three solid days, Marinette had snapped. She’d decided that if Chloe was going to build a bonfire and poor on the gasoline that she would be there with a match. By senior year, Marinette’s record had taken a hit for it but Chloe’s reputation was in the toilet.

Marinette would take what she could get.

However, she supposed she hadn’t fully thought out the consequences. As much as she played with fire, she should have realized she’d get burned sooner or later.

And she did. Third degree.

We regret to inform you your application has been denied.

Those were words she grew tired of seeing yet came back from every school she applied to. With that in mind, she’d called up her girl friends to tell them what had happened.

“Hey, Marinette,” Alya had said upon seeing the letters. “Don’t get me wrong, I feel really bad for you. But… I did warn you—”

“I get it,” Marinette had surrendered, knowing that Alya was completely right. “You tried to warm me of the consequences, and now I’m paying for them.”

The girls had slipped into a moment of silence before Alix spoke up. “Hey, I can ask Max if he can do a little digging so you at least know why, yeah?”

Marinette had raised a brow but agreed. “Only if he’s not busy with his own college stuff.”

“Oh please, he’s too smart for college. He started up some robotics company in his free time and is already making bank on it.”

It took a week for Max to come back with a full report. Marinette had to give him props for working fast as he did.

“Hacking into the system was the first thing I could think of,” he’d explained. “In the side notes, there was mention of your attendance record and suspensions.”

“They were all wrongful suspensions,” Alix had countered.

“Doesn’t matter to the school,” Max had said with a shrug. “But even then, I thought there had to be more to this than just attendance. There were other students who had the same notes yet were accepted. So I shifted focus to digging up background on all the directors of the school. After hacking a few emails, I discovered Audrey Bourgeois happens to know a lot of directors or administration members in all the fashion schools of France. Considering the contents of most of those emails, it has become clear that Marinette was wrongfully barred from every school she’d applied to. And that there’s nothing that can be done about it because we only discovered such scandal through highly illegal means.”

“So…” Alya had begun, turning her attention to Marinette. “Where does that leave you, M?”

Marinette’s lips had pursed in thought. It was funny how things turned out, because despite her anger, she somehow had been peace with what she was faced with. “I think that the last place I want to be is in an industry full of liars and people who use their words to manipulate anyone they damn well please.”

That was how she ended up working full-time in her parents’ bakery. They never said a word about it, but she knew they were disappointed. Of course they weren’t mad about her still being here and working in the bakery with them, and she knew her parents still loved her more than anything.

But she knew that with as many dreams as she had and had shared with them, they were disappointed on her surrendering it all.

“Sorry, Maman, Papa,” she whispered into the empty kitchen as she plopped the baguettes she formed onto a baking tray. “Just give me a little time to figure things out. Seems like lofty dreams are a lot easier to crush than I realized.”

 2. Rebellion

A son can only bear the world of their parent’s expectations for so long. He wasn’t Atlas, but after a few years of acting like him, Adrien decided to dump the globe. To hell if it broke. He’d smirk in satisfaction at his father’s disappointment.

At the very least, the fact he no longer had the weight of the world of his shoulders made the far-too-common disappointment lecture easier to bear.

His strategic rebellion had started harmless enough. At sixteen with a rapidly growing forced modeling career, he’d given his father an ultimatum: he gets to grow out his hair, or it all goes. It had been shocking the amount of power the razor in his hand had given him. It was the perfect harmless threat. His father had been furious, throwing a fit about Adrien acting like a child, but after being gaslit for so long, Adrien had finally come to realize the abusive techniques for what they were. And he wasn’t going to roll over and take it any longer.

That day had ended with Adrien being grounded but ultimately the victor of their stand-off.

After that, he’d begun ditching certain events. He’d always liked fencing, so he never ditched those lessons, but attendance for his home-school lessons, mandarin lessons, and piano lessons had all been decided on a whim. His father had hardly been pleased by this, but to Adrien, that was the point. The lectures soon washed into one another so much that Adrien could practically recite the words that roll off his father’s tongue verbatim. He’d come to realize they were strategically meant to hurt. To humiliate. And as such, he’d stopped taking them personally.

Then came the fun part.

He got earrings. Honestly, Adrien hadn’t really cared for the piercings one way or another. In one way, there were a hassle, and caring for new piercings was a pain in the butt. However, they had been worth it to see his dad so royally pissed off.

Then came the ditching of certain photoshoots. There was a reason Adrien had held off on this one for so long: he cared about the people running the shoot. There was no reason they needed to be collateral in this battle between him and his father. After all, they were just employees doing their job; Adrien didn’t want them to suffer for his rebellion. With that in mind, Adrien had planned out his absences of these photoshoots. Again, he didn’t want to drag anyone else into his mess, so he had always organized a replacement model. Shoot would always go on, just not as planned.

And that was enough to drive his father mad.

It always put a smile on Adrien’s face.

The last touch was an unexpected one. He hadn’t even thought about going this far. Yet, a friend of his not only put the idea in his head, but gave him the art to go with it.

“Is that a tattoo?”

Oh, how he wished he would have taken a picture of his father’s face. The large black cat surrounded in a green, wispy smoke that wrapped around his forearm was truly a work of art. He’d had to think carefully about this decision, but in the end, he quite liked it.

“Yeah. I’m eighteen; I can ink myself if I want to. Why? Is that a problem?”

Adrien might be wearing a cat on his arm, but the grin on his lips was downright wolfish.

Eventually, it all had come to a head and blew up in his face. Adrien couldn’t say he’d been surprised. In fact, he had been fully expecting it. He’d already found an apartment to rent and had begun sneaking most of his important things over there before his father could kick him out. So when Adrien found himself kicked to the curb as soon as he was handed his general education certificate, Adrien had been prepared.

But mostly, he was free.

What a joyous day it was.

However, now that he was free, he knew he needed a job. Not because he needed the money, per se, but because it was time he started acting like the average adult. He never got to go to school, so now, it was time to pick up a mundane, first job that everyone hated but would “serve him well later in life”. Mostly, it would just be something normal.

The easy places to apply were food shops and retail stores. He’d work one for a while before deciding what his next life step would be. Chloe had been quick to offer him a job at her father’s hotel, but Adrien was vehemently against the idea. Over the span of his rebellion, Chloe’s behavior and attitude towards him had grown notably worse, and he had a feeling cutting ties with her would be his next step in life.

In the end, he’d scored a job he definitely was underqualified for. He’d applied partly out of spite and partly because ‘why not?’ He’d heard about this bakery enough times from Chloe to know the “cruel bitch who did nothing but mercilessly harass her” lived here, and that was enough to pique Adrien’s curiosity. At a bakery as popular as that, though, he hadn’t been sure he’d get a call. And when he did, he knew he would do everything he could to present himself as a reliable and respectable man eager to work, but he never thought he’d end up hitting it off with the owner.

Which somehow ended up with him agreeing to work at Tom and Sabine’s Patisserie.

Going into that job, he swore to himself he would do what he could to prove himself worthy. He knew there had to have been better applicants, so Adrien didn’t want to disappoint the very kind owners who dared give him a chance. Soon, his days were spent working hard while covered in flour and surrounded by bread all day. Well, bread and all the sharp and hot objects in your average kitchen.

He just didn’t think that would include a wicked sharp and smoking hot young lady that happened to be his bosses’ daughter.

 3. Game Night

“Mama, Papa, please go. You two hardly ever get out of the house.”

Marinette watched her maman put a hand over the mouthpiece of her phone while her papa turned to her. “But I’ll be busy that night. We have a massive order scheduled for the next day.”

“I can handle that,” Marinette quickly countered with a grin. “You know I’m a night owl, anyway. I’ll get it done, and you two can go enjoy game night with your friends.”

Her parents spared each other a glance. “Are you sure about that, Marinette?” Maman asked.

“Positive. Papa already talks to the bread too much, so he really should talk to people for a change. And while you have to deal with people all day, I know you want more than to just have short conversations filled with small talk. So please, go out and have a social life for once.”

With one last look, her parents relented. With a smile, her mother took her hand off the phone. “We’ll be there.”

Papa turned to her with a grin. “I was going to spend that time teaching Adrien how to handle those orders. I can leave teaching him in your hands, right?”

Her grin fell. Adrien Agreste. What the hell a washed-out model was doing working at her parents’ bakery was beyond her. Admittedly, over the last month she’d been working with him, the most she’d say is that maybe he wasn’t too bad a guy. Papa certainly sung his praises. But that still didn’t answer the question of why he was working here of all places. After all, he was Chloe’s friend and suspected lover.

“Don’t think I don’t see that look on your face, Marinette,” her maman chastised. She’d hung up and set her phone down already, fully giving her attention to her daughter. “No matter your personal feelings, you really should give him a chance.”

“He’s a good kid,” Papa said. “Maybe a little rough around the edges, but I can tell he really does want to learn and do his best.”

Marinette sighed. This wasn’t the first time this talk had happened. She remembered having a talk with her parents after his first interview. There were a few other people who were far more qualified for the job, but Papa said he liked Adrien’s personality and spirit the best. So in the end, all Marinette’s objections had fallen upon deaf ears.

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll give him a chance.”

With a smile that made Marinette loath to disappoint him, her papa patted her head affectionately. “Thank you, Marinette. I think you’d like him if you got to know him.”

Not likely. “I’ll do my best, Papa.”

“Really, Marinette,” her maman warned. “Unless you have a valid reason, you need to put aside your feelings for the sake of the bakery running smoothly. Can you manage that?”

Appropriately chastised, Marinette bowed her head in embarrassment. Maman brought up a good point: Marinette shouldn’t let her anger towards Adrien affect the bakery. Her parents didn’t deserve that. “Yes, Maman. I’m sorry.”

With a smile, her maman came up and wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you, Marinette.”

Marinette hugged her back. “No, thank you, Maman and Papa, for everything. I won’t let you down.”

Papa wrapped his arms around both her and Maman. “Thank you, sweetheart. We love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[hela-avenger]

it’s not you, it’s me- part 2

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1041

Summary: Natasha won’t quit trying to set you up so you decide to play fire with fire. Hence making a deal with an insufferable prince who interestingly enough is willing to fake being in love with you for the rest of the night. Of course when dealing with the God of Lies things are never as they seem. Fake-Dating AU. p&w AU.

A/N: If you haven’t read poison & wine it is ok to read this but there will be some references to it and p&w is completed. As for my p&w loyal readers, ENJOY!

P.S. I’m tagging the p&w people so if you’ll like to be taken off pls do let me know!

Tags are open!

poison & wine masterlist & it’s not you, it’s me masterlist

You tear yourself away from his hold causing Loki to chuckle at your immediate retreat. You stumble as you try to put some space between you two. It didn’t make sense how Loki came to find that truth when many others, others who have known you longer, have yet to figure it out. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Oh, a good liar buys time,” Loki responds. “A great liar would have already been ready with a response.” 

Loki leans his back against the balcony with a smirk. 

“So?” he asks. “Will you answer my question or do you need more time to come up with a lie?” 

“You’re an ass,” you mutter under your breath. 

“Now that’s not a nice thing to say to your date,” Loki mockingly reprimands. “What would Natasha say about that foul mouth of yours?” 

“You know what?” you stammer out in annoyance. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll rather go through mindless conversations with Natasha’s bachelors than to spend another second here with you.” 

You don’t make it too far as Loki grabs a hold of your arm. 

“Retreating so easily?” Loki asks. “Now I didn’t peg you as a quitter.” 

“We’ve just met,” you snap at him. “Stop presuming so much about me.” 

“Then I must ask you to do the same with me.” 

Your anger disappears when you hear this from him. You should know better than to judge a book by its cover and yet you had. 

You blatantly used his status without thinking of the connotation it held. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable before,” you whisper as you turn around to face him. “It wasn’t my intention and I presumed you would be game to help me.” 

“Oh, believe me, I am,” Loki chuckles. “But I detest my tormentous past being brought up so casually.” 

“I was being honest when I said that I wasn’t using you to scare potential suitors away and I had no intention for Jeff to bring up your past,” you confess to him. “Thor told me you have a way with words and well… he called you Silvertongue so it just further proved you would be the best person I could ask to help me right now.”

Loki continues to stare and you can’t help but compare his mannerisms to a curious raven.

“You’re not lying,” Loki states. “You haven’t since we met but that doesn’t mean I trust you.” 

“I mean, you shouldn’t,” you shrug. “I’m a complete stranger to you.” 

“As I am to you,” Loki remarks with a small tilt on his lips. “Are you saying you don’t trust me?” 

“I mean,” you answer with a laugh. “Who in their sane mind would agree to fake dating a stranger for the rest of the night?”   

Loki chuckles and shakes his head. 

“If this is to work, I need you to be completely honest with me,” Loki states. “I may be the God of Lies but I detest being lied to.” 

“Ok…” 

“So, going back to my previous question,” Loki trails off. “How long have you been lying to your friends about your true lineage?” 

You take a deep breath trying to ease yourself from the alarm running through your whole body. 

You still didn’t know how he came to find this out about you, but it didn’t matter at the moment. Loki had asked you a question and you had to offer a response. 

An honest response. 

“Apart from two, since I’ve first made their acquaintance,” you answer. “And technically I’m half-lying to them seeing as I’m half-human.” 

“What are you?” 

“A demigod. Half-human, half-God.” 

“Of Asgardian descent I presume?” 

“Yes,” you nod. “Found that out about a couple of years ago when your brother first came to Earth.”

“How old are you?” 

Foregoing making a joke about how rude it is to ask for a woman’s age, you answer his question.

“By Earth physical standards 24, but 198 in reality.” 

“Your parents?” 

“My mother died when I was 19, while my father is unknown,” you sigh feeling your chest tightening. “Are we done with this interrogation?”

Loki remains silent as he contemplates your question. He doesn’t stare at you this time which is a welcome reprieve, but it sealed him away from you. You didn’t know what he could be thinking or what mood he may have shifted to. 

“That will do for now,” Loki mutters. “We should head inside soon…” 

“Wait,” you interrupt him before he can even take a step towards the doors. “I just have one question for you.” 

“Which is?” he asks impatiently. 

“How did you know?” you ask. “How did you know I wasn’t human?” 

Loki responds by offering his hand for you to take. You look at it hesitantly forcing Loki to explain his intentions.

“I can show you.” 

With that being said, you take his hand. 

It surprisingly feels soft and warm and soon you realize why. There was some kind of energy running through him that seemed to reach for yours. 

“That,” Loki states. “That is how I knew.” 

“What is that?” you ask him as you pull your hand away. The connection is cut, but you can still feel the warmth tingling in your hand. “What did you do?” 

“It’s called seidr,” Loki answers. “Some Asgardians are blessed with the gift of magic so when we first touched, I felt that connection. That is how I knew that you weren’t completely human.” 

“But your brother…” 

“Thor can barely tell the difference between his precious Mjolnir and an actual hammer,” Loki snorts. “Besides, he’s not acutely aware of his surroundings like I am.” 

“Sounds like you’re paranoid.” 

“It’s because I am,” Loki states. “Villain, remember? I have many enemies who wish to see me fail. Many of them are at this party.”

You roll your eyes knowing he was referring to your friends. 

“Am I one of them?” you can’t help but ask. “An enemy?” 

Loki takes his time to respond. 

“Yet to be determined,” he answers before offering his arm for you to take. “Shall we begin our night now?”

Having been outside long enough, you take a deep breath and loop your arm around his allowing Loki to escort you back inside.

it’s not you, it’s me: @mywellspingoflife @toe-wind-ek-jou @mejusttryintogetby @marvelgirlonamarvelworld​ @nickkie1129​ @theinfinitenerd​

poison & wine: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @marvelloonie @sulbaeksul @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk @roger-the-reindeer @punkrockhufflefluff​ @your-local-abyss @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rogerrhqpsody @imsad420 @pandacookieowo @justnerdystuffs @hanoi15 @oneprolificqueen @nikki-who-likes-coffee @fandomrelative @nikki419ninja @onedollarduck @help-i-need-a-social-life @ephemeraljade @catsladen @amwolowicz @captainmarvelnerd @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse @ddaeing @leftperfectionmoon

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow-blog @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-nightshade @aoirohi @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @just-a-donut-who-reads @day-dreaming-fox @heykathchuu @is-it-madness

All Works: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff​ @hellocookiecutter​ @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak​ @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie​ @moonlightprime @badhollandfluff @what-a-flammable-heart @fandoms-allovertheplace @polireader​ @hufflautia​

[shera-dnd]

Are you ready for some nuts? some dolts? some bees even?

Because this chapter has a lot of all of those

Also Lady Xiao Long is 6′6, because everyone in this is already over the top and larger than life, so I just had to go a little extra with my girl

anyway link above, fic bellow. Let’s get to it!

Weiss had to admit, Lady Blake was absolutely right, this really was the best meal she’d had in ages. Of course this was only in small part thanks to the fish, and in great part thanks to the company she now shared. Though it would be a long shot to consider any of these people her friends, it was certainly a far more amicable setting than any meal she’d had in at least a decade.

Lady Polendina was a ray of sunshine personified, and was happy to make Weiss feel welcome. Lady Blake had been nothing but courteous with her since the moment they spoke their oaths to each other, and Lady Ilia…

Lady Ilia may still very clearly detest Weiss with all her heart, but she had done something that she would not soon forget. She had given Weiss a gift, the first gift born of genuine kindness she had received since the day her grandfather passed away.

Now that gift was draped over Weiss’s shoulders, warming her heart as well as her body.

Maidens save her, she felt so foolish to ever even think of something so sappy. Perhaps it was for the best that she followed Lady Blake’s example, and focused on her grilled fish right now.

Unfortunately a growing commotion kept her from enjoying this meal any further.

The crowd of festival goers parted and scurried away as six figures made their way towards them.

The first figure was a blond woman who stood a full head taller than the rest of the crowd, her face was hidden behind a mask painted in the semblance of a bear, her muscular arms adorned with a collection of iron bangles. From her side hung the largest blade Weiss had ever seen, and she had no doubt that if anyone could ever swing a weapon like that, it would be this mountain of a woman.

Behind her followed an equally fearsome woman; though older, and not as large as the first one, she easily compensated for it with her demeanor, and an intense glare that could cut through a man’s resolve like a blade through flesh.

Following those two came three more figures, each of them carrying war scythes and covered by long hooded cloaks. The first was a younger woman in red, then an older one in white, and finally a man in grey.

The last one to approach was an older blond man whose calm smile, and sunny disposition, would mark as the least threatening of the bunch...were it not for the fact he was accompanied by a massive hunting hound.

Whoever these people were, they were nothing short of terrifying.

Weiss’s hand reached for the hilt of her sword, not to draw on the sinister group, but simply for the comfort it offered. Lady Polendina on the other hand seemed to need no such comforts, for she marched up to the group with confidence and greeted them with her usual cheer.

“Salutations! You must be the envoys from the Branwen Clan.”

The figures stopped, the girl in red peeked from under her hood in expectation, but did not move yet, awaiting for her leader to act first. That titan of a woman walked up to Lady Polendina, towering over the knight as she took off her mask.

Behind it was a cheerful expression that could almost match that of the little knight she talked to.

“Lady Polendina, I presume,” she greeted with a voice that matched her size. Though the woman was clearly mistrali, she spoke in perfect atlesian, “it’s good to finally meet the woman my sister has spoken so highly of.”

The girl in red shifted nervously and pleaded something in mistrali. Whatever she said seemed to amuse the rest of the envoys.

“And it’s good to finally meet my dear Rose’s family, Lady Xiao Long,” she replied. Quite a lot of emotion placed in the nickname, more than enough for Weiss to notice.

Done with waiting, the girl in red rushed to Xiao Long’s side. Her cloak billowed as she ran, revealing under it silver armor with the heraldry of the Knights of the Spring Maiden. Looking more attentively, it was clear that all but Lady Xiao Long carried that crest.

“Yang, must we do this here and now?” The young knight asked, “could we at least set up camp before you embarrass me further?”

Lady Xiao Long said something in mistrali that had earned her a furious glare from the young knight. They conversed in the language for a few moments before the larger woman let out a loud laugh.

“Very well, Ruby, we’ll be on our way,” she declared, before turning to face Lady Polendina once again, “but before I leave, Lady Polendina. I’ve heard that a tournament has already taken place in our absence.”

“Indeed it has,” the knight replied, “it was a simple warm up, but it was quite thrilling. I was actually just sharing a meal with the winner of that tournament.”

That seemed to pique Lady Xiao Long’s interest tremendously.

“And who would this mighty victor be?”

“That would be me,” Lady Blake answered, putting down her food and joining Lady Polendina’s side.

“Lady Xiao Long, this is Lady Blake of the Knights of the Fall Maiden,” Lady Polendina gladly introduced, “Lady Blake, this is Yang Xiao Long, chieftain of the Branwen Clan.”

“Your fame precedes you, Lady Blake, it is an honor to meet you,” the chieftain greeted, taking Lady Blake’s hand gently and bowing before her. Lady Ilia gagged at the sight, “and it would be a greater honor still to see the Black Knight in action.”

“Would you be inviting me to a sparring match, Lady Xiao Long?” She asked, sounding profoundly amused by this turn of events.

“I would indeed,” she replied, a smirk forming on her face, “if you would indulge me.”

“I believe I will,” Lady Blake replied with a smirk of her own, “though perhaps it would be best if we wait until you and your family are fully settled in. Besides, I’m in the middle of enjoying a nice meal with my companions.”

“Then let me keep you no longer,” she answered, before turning back to her companions and calling out their orders in mistrali. She turned and spoke to Lady Blake one last time, “I look forward to seeing you again, my lady.”

And with that they departed.

Lady Ilia shivered and suppressed another gag.

“Are you well?” Weiss asked.

“Not if I am to see those two acting like this again,” she replied.

“I do not see what’s so wrong with their conversation.”

“Of course you don’t,” was Ilia’s only response.

Weiss rolled her eyes and returned to her food. It was obvious that she would be getting nothing more from her on this topic. And, unlike Lady Ilia, she was genuinely happy that their companion seemed to be making such fast friends in the Branwens. This was a celebration of peace and union between the kingdoms after all.

The two of them were silent for the rest of their meal. Ilia quietly seething at Blake, while Weiss was simply lost in thought. Though they walked the grounds a little longer after that, they soon enough found themselves being dragged along to the Branwen clan’s tents. Lady Blake eager to have her match and Lady Polendina eager to spend more time with her…friend.

Even though it had been hardly more than an hour since they last spoke with Lady Xiao Long, the Branwens had already properly set up camp and had even made a small fenced area for them to spar in.

This makeshift arena was currently occupied by Lady Xiao Long herself, standing mighty and proud, face once more covered by her terrifying mask. In one hand she held her colossal sword, in the other she held a fully armored knight by his throat.

Seeming to finally notice her visitors, she smiled before slamming the man to the ground with ease.

“Do you admit defeat?” She asked, the knight could only nod, prompting the chieftain to yank them up once again, “thank you for this fantastic warm up!”

She pulled them into a rib crushing hug before unceremoniously dropping them. The knight bowed before her, and excused themself away from what Weiss assumed was a humiliating defeat.

“Lady Blake,” Lady Xiao Long cheerfully greeted, “I’m glad to see you here so soon.”

“I could not bring myself to keep you waiting,” Lady Blake replied, “though I must say I’m surprised you have set up camp so quickly.”

“My people are nomads, my lady,” she explained, “if there is one thing we’re good at it is making camp.”

“Impressive.”

“Lady Xiao Long, if I may,” Lady Polendina interjected.

“You wish to know the whereabouts of my sister, do you not?” she asked, and Lady Polendina nodded, “she’s off with our mothers and uncle. As Knights of the Spring Maiden they’re expected to greet your Knight Commander as soon as we were done setting up. So for now it is only me, and my father, here at camp.”

“Of course,” Lady Polendina replied, mildly disappointed, “may I wait here for my dear Rose’s return?”

“Anything for Ruby’s beloved little Firefly,” Lady Xiao Long chuckled, “please make yourself comfortable.”

Weiss had her suspicions, but that made it certainly clear that those two were much more than close friends. As happy as she was for Lady Polendina, she simply couldn’t help but be surprised by the openness with which they discussed this topic. Though Lady Xiao Long had also admitted to having two mothers and a father, such things must be considerably more common among the people of Mistral.

“Now if you’ll indulge me my lady,” she once more turned to face Lady Blake and gestured towards the arena behind her, “I would be delighted to spar with you”

Lady Blake gave her host a smile and readied herself. She put on her horned helmet, drew her blades and walked with Lady Xiao Long towards the arena. Her black armor gave her a sinister air matched only by the chieftain herself.

The battle began and Weiss quickly understood that had she been in Lady Blake’s position, she would have been defeated already. Though Yang Xiao Long may have looked brutish and simple, her form and fighting style was anything but. Every swing of the blade was calculated, every opening pressured, and every mistake punished. She fought not only with her blade but her entire body, throwing in punches and kicks to catch her opponent off guard.

Meanwhile Lady Blake proved her incredible skill once more. She rushed in close, keeping the chieftain from effectively using her blade, adapting as fast she could to the woman’s unconventional strategies, compensating for the difference in their physical strength with an unmatched fierceness.

Had this been one of the storybooks from Weiss’s childhood, these would be monstrous villains, engaging in a bloody battle to the death from which the only good ending would be their mutually assured destruction.

For once reality was far kinder than fiction.

Lady Xiao Long laughed as the fight dragged on, not out of malice nor bloodlust, but out of sheer, raucous joy. Her hand finally connected with one of Lady Blake’s horns and she slammed her down with force, bringing her greatsword down by the knight’s head… only to find a sword pressed against her stomach.

There was a moment of silence, the two of them looking at each other through mask and helmet, their ragged breaths the only sound around them. Until Lady Polendina broke the silence with her cheer.

“Sensational!” She nearly jumped as she said the word, “never have I seen a fight like this before. Truly you two simply must join the tournament.”

The two combatants laughed as they began to stand up. Faces once more revealed as they spoke.

“Lady Blake of the Knights of the Fall Maiden,” the chieftain began, pride in her voice, “I declare you victorious!”

“I’m flattered, Lady Xiao Long,” she replied, “but this was a tie at best.”

Lady Xiao Long smiled, but shook her head.

“Nay, my lady,” she spoke, taking Lady Blake’s hand once more, “sparring with you was already a great victory for me, so it is only fair that I grant you this one.”

Lady Ilia gagged once more.

“If you insist,” Lady Blake replied, rolling her eyes in playful annoyance, “though I’ll hardly be able to brag about a victory granted through kindness.”

“Nonsense,” was the chieftain’s reply, “you’ve more than earned your bragging rights.”

“Maybe so,” she countered, “still I can’t help but feel like a rematch is in order. Perhaps I should return soon and earn this victory properly.”

“Then I look forward to when our blades meet next.”

At that Lady Ilia made an outraged noise that Weiss couldn’t quite describe. Weiss’s previous annoyance at these senseless responses revived once more.

“Why must you react so crassly!” Weiss demanded.

“Is it not clear to you what they’re doing?” Lady Ilia asked back.

Weiss looked at her in confusion, “being polite to one another?”

“What you do is polite, Sch--...my lady,” she cleared her throat, catching herself just in time, “what they’re engaging in is flirtation.”

Weiss looked back at them, only now seeming to catch the lingering gazes, the playful smiles, the tone in their voice.

“Oh.”

[bill-y]

INURE

Peeta Mellark x Reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part four: Click here, rooroorara shooty shooty vang vang

Part five: You're right here, silly!

Part six: Click here, war criminal of 1878!

Wattpad acc: L0calxDumbass

The moment the anthem finished, we were taken into custody. It's not as if we were cuffed or anything; a group of Peacekeepers simply marched us through the front door of the Justice Building.

Each year, at least one of the tributes tries to escape; I've never seen one successfully do so.

Once inside, they put me in a room. It's the most prosperous place I've been to. With a thick carpet in the ground and a weird couch made of fabric, I've never seen before.

It was a strange texture, almost like the weird fuzzy stuff in deer's antlers. My father called them velvet; was this the same thing? If so, that's a bit gross.

Despite this, I still caressed the couch; it was oddly comforting. Almost like you're patting a nearly hairless kitten. It switched from smooth to rough each time I ran my hands through it.

Then I remembered that we only had an hour to say goodbye to our loved ones before leaving for the Capitol. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in. I didn't want to cry at all; the cameras were trained on me. I'm sure the Capitol would eat my tears up.

The first people who came in were my mother and my brother. Kunal let out a sob as he ran towards me, practically throwing himself onto me. I hugged him, staying silent as he buried his face into my neck, afraid that if he let go, I would disappear.

But I needed to break it one way or another. "Mother," I called, my voice detached. Her green eyes met mine, her lips quivering. I gulped down my spit, taking another deep breath in. "Do you. . . Have any idea on how you'll support yourselves. . ?" I asked.

Her eyes landed on the thick, red carpet. "Not as of now," she answered grimly, "But Katniss' mother offered me some work at the apothecary,"

My arms around my brother tightened. Maybe Gale and Katniss could bring them some of the game as well, though I wouldn't count on it. Why would they help us when they have other things to worry about? It's not as if I could teach Nal how to hunt either. The boy's frightened by his own shadow.

All he's good for right now for picking flowers as much as I love him. A sigh escaped my lips, my chest falling slowly as the reality sunk in.

"Well, you must think of something," I told her, my brows furrowing. "I'm not going to come back; I won't be able to support you and—"

"No!" she barked, "No! You will come back, Y/n." she proclaimed, her eyes shaking. She clenched her, fists, "Swear that you will."

Bitterness rose within me. "Tell that to the Capitol, mother," I said coolly. "If I die, then I—." My words were cut short by the sobbing of my brother.

He sniffled, pulling away from my now wet neck. "You'll win, won't you?" he croaked, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his reaping clothes.

I felt my heart stop; what was I supposed to say to him? "No, Nal. I will surely die, don't count on it,"  a lump formed in my throat.

My eyes landed on my mother, who gave a stern look.  It told me to lie, if not for her sake, then for my brother's. With shaky hands, I held my brother's shoulders. "I'll make it out; then we can— gather some flowers in Victor's village, yes?" 

Nal nodded, hugging me once more. I took a deep breath before I started explaining what they should do. With mother possibly getting a job at the apothecary, perhaps they have a  chance to survive, after all. Though I'm not sure, that's such a pleasant thought with the fact that I will die. 

Soon enough, a Peacekeeper was at the door, telling them their time was up. I gave Nal a hard squeeze before pushing him off. My mother nodded at me; her strawberry blonde hair bounced as she did so. "I love you both," 

The words were stuck in my throat; I couldn't say them. Maybe it was because of my strained relationship with my mother or because I hated the fact that I had just given my brother a false sense of hope. I simply watched as they walked away, hand in hand. 

Nal's watery blue eyes looked back at me one last time, a look of sadness. He knew I was lying. I sounded unconvinced when I told him. My posture slumped; I felt horrible. Our maker is siis merely, I suppose.

The next visitor was unexpected; Peeta's father, the baker. My gut churned; I was off to kill his son soon. Why has he come to visit me? Perhaps he has come to beg me not to kill his son? Not that I could either way, Peeta was stronger than me: it was clear as day.

He handed me a small piece of parchment. It was filled with warm cookies. A delicacy. He must've visited his son; after all, why would he just me cookies? I was about to die anyway; why feed a dead man?

I let out a huge breath, "How was the squirrel?" my voice pierced through the thick silence. He shrugged, "Alright," he answered. Then another wave of silence hit us. I sniffed awkwardly, the scent of fresh bread entering my lungs. 

I couldn't think of anything to say. What was I supposed to do? ApoloApologisebe, but I never really liked apoloapologisingee no need to. If I'm sorry, then I'll show it. We sat in awkward silence before the Peacekeepers told him his time was up. He stood up, clearing his throat.

"I'll keep an eye on the little boy, make sure he's eating," He stated before leaving. I felt the pressure lift from my chest. They may not like me much, but Nal was practically an angel to them. An angel born in a family of rebels, I'm guessing, is their thoughts.

The next guest then entered. Madge. Her expression wasn't weepy nor evasive, nor did she wear that bright smile she always had when she was around me. It looked urgent. She walked straight to me, the urgency in her tone quite surprising, "They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home, will you wear this?" she holds out a circular gold pin that was on her dress earlier.

My brows furrowed, "Your pin?' I said. Does she really to die wearing rich-people-things? That hasn't even crossed my mind. . . 

"I'll put it on your tunic, alright?" She said, not waiting for my answer as she leaned in and fixed the bird on my chest. "Promise me you'll wear it to the arena, Y/n. Promise me," She took my hand, her thumbs rubbing the back of my own.

Compared to Peeta's, hers was cold yet soft, almost as if she was nervous, worried. But why would she? I barely talk to her; she's the one who always strikes a conversation. All I do is nod and disagree at certain times. 

She leaned closer to my face; I gave her an uncertain smile, pulling away. "Thank you, Madge," I muttered. She nodded, letting go of my hands. "Please, stay safe," her voice trembled as she rushed out of the room. I was left standing there, confused. What was that? Why did she visit me despite my rudeness earlier?

Next was Gale and Katniss. I didn't hesitate to hug both of them before pulling away with a sigh. "Hey, you'll be fine," Gale reassured, patting my shoulder. I stayed silent, only nodding. Katniss gave me a pity smile, "I'm sure it would be fairly easy to get knives, Y/n."

A sigh left my mouth, "I know— I just— Don't want to—" I stammered, making a stabbing motion with my hand. Gale gave me a pitied look, "It's just like hunting, Y/n. You're the best hunter we know," he said.

"They're not animals. They think; they're armed."  I reasoned, my voice trembling. Why did I have to feel these emotions now? Maybe reality has finally settled in, the truth that I'll never see any of these faces again. On the off chance that I do, I'm sure they'll view me differently, a cold-blooded murderer.

"What's the difference, reale said grimly. Those words echoed in my head as they went away with the Peacekeepers. What is the difference? We're all just feral dogs forced to fight or cocks pit against each other.

I took a deep breath as I got called to ride a wagon to the train station. It was a relatively short ride. We never really had the luxury of these; we always had to travel by foot.  

I silently thanked myself for not crying; there were insect-like cameras trained onto my face. Thankfully, I knew how to act, to bite my tongue. If I hadn't, I'd probably be screaming profanities. My eyes glanced onto the television screen; I look bored. Which, I surprisingly was.

It was as if my spirit left me already.

Peeta Mellark, on the other hand, had obviously been crying. However, he didn't even try to hide it, which was quite odd. Was this his strategy? To appear weak and vulnerable to assure the other tributes that he was no threat? This worked for a girl from district 7. Johanna Mason.

She seemed frightened, a cowardly fool that no one bothered about her until only a handful left. She then killed them all, with no problem whatsoever. I remember watching this game, quite shocked. She sold her act to me, but then again, maybe I'm just oblivious.

This worked for her because she looked frail, weak. Peeta applying this strategy was quite odd. Not only did he not look soft, but he was also jacked. He just looked like a big doofus. All those years having bread to eat and hauling trays made him physically capable.

Annoyance rose through me when we had to stand by the train's entrance while cameras gobbled out images up. I was sure I no longer looked bored but rather pissed. It wasn't like I was about to put on a pretty smile for them. These jester-dressed-worms should know how I feel.

Finally, we boarded, and the train began to move at once. The speed took my breath away. It was going faster than I could ever think of. The scenery around us just blurred—a mix of the neutral colour palette that made up District 12. 

We were taught about coal in school. Some basic maths and reading before it circled back to coal again. Our district was used for coal mining, even hundreds of years ago.

Then there are the weekly lectures about the history of Panem, which never fails to annoy me. It's all blather about how we owe the Capitol because of the rebellion and whatnot.

I knew they're hiding something; we couldn't have lost that easily. I always think about this whenever I'm up in the trees, daydreaming, which is why I'm always the last one to arrive at the hill.

The tribute train was much fancier than the room at the Justice building. We were given our own rooms, a dressing area and private bathroom with cold and hot running water. We've never really had hot water readily available at home; we had to boil it.

Though I can't say, I like it, with all that effort I just end up not liking the bath. I much prefer the cold, flowing current of a river.

There are drawers filled with fine clothes, and Effie Trinket told me to do anything I want, wear anything I want, everything is at my disposal. Just be ready for supper in an hour. I peel off my father’s tunic and take a cold shower. I’ve never had a shower before. It’s like being in the rain, inky much tamer. I dress in a dark green shirt and pants, trying my hair to the usual, small pa

At the last minute, I remember Madge’s little gold pin. For the first time, I get a good look at it. It’s as if someone fashioned a small golden bird and then attached a ring around it. The bird is connected to the ring only by its wingtips. I suddenly recognise it—a Mockingjay.

Funny little birds, my favourite creature in the forests, that's for sure. These were a slap to the Capitol's face. They genetically altered animals as weapons. Muttations as we call them, or Mutts for short. One particular kind was a bird they labelled Jabberjay, able to memorise and repeat whole human conversations.

Homing birds, exclusively male that were released into regions where the Capitol’s enemies were known to be hiding. After the birds gathered words, they’d fly back to centres to be recorded. It took people a while to realise what was going on in the districts, how private conversations were being transmitted. Then, of course, the rebels fed the Capitol endless lies, and the joke was on it. So the centres were shut down, and the birds were abandoned to die off in the wild.

But they didn't die; instead, they mated with the female mocking birds and produced this weird species that can replicate both bird whistles and human melodies. They've lost the ability to enunciated words but could still mimic a range of human vocal cords.

My father used to sing them a lot. I guess he passed that habit down to me. Whenever I'm not doing anything, I find myself singing to the hummingbirds, who surprisingly listen and replicate my Father's song. It was a simple melody, made of 10 notes at least.

It warmed by heart, especially at times where I miss him. I smiled, fastening the pin to my shirt, the dark green as its background.

Effie came to collect me. I followed her through a narrow, rocking corridor into a dining room. There's a table where all the dishes are highly breakable. There waiting for us was Peeta Mellark, the chair beside him empty.

"Where's Haymitch?" Asked Effie Trinket brightly.

"Last time I saw him he said he was going to take a nap," said Peeta. "Well, it’s been an exhausting day," said Effie Trinket. I think she’s relieved by Haymitch’s absence, and who can blame her?

Food came in courses. Though I barely touched the carrot soup, the chocolate cake, lamb chops nor the mashed potatoes. I wasn't going to eat this, not from the Capitol.

My jaw clenched as Effie told me to eat up, smiling brightly at me. I gave her a pained smile, slowly taking a bite of the lamb on my plate before swallowing it roughly.

A swirl of guilt formed in my stomach, was I eating really this luxurious food whilst Nal and mother struggle? I sighed, digging my nails into my palms.

Peeta looked at me oddly as he stuffed his face, he nudged my side and nodded towards the food. I simply shook my head, pushing the plate away.

Effie put her lips together at my stubbornness. She was muttering something about having no manners.

We go to another compartment to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem. They try to stagger them throughout the day so a person could conceivably watch the whole thing live, but only people in the Capitol could really do that since none of them has to attend reapings themselves.

One by one, we see the other reapings, the names called, the volunteers stepping forward or, more often, not. We examine the faces of the kids who will be in our competition. A few stand out in my mind.

A monstrous boy who lunges forward to volunteer from District 2. A fox-faced girl with sleek red hair from District 5. A boy with a crippled foot from District 10. And most hauntingly, a twelve-year-old girl from District 11. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but other than that, she’s very like Nal in size and demeanour. Only when she mounts the stage and task for volunteers, all you can hear is the wind whistling through the decrepit buildings around her. There’s no one willing to take her place.

Last of all, District twelve. It showed Nal getting called and me volunteering. The commentators weren't sure about what to say regarding the silence. I only smirked at this, crossing my legs in amusement. Just in time, Haymitch fell from the stage, earning a comical groan from the commentators.

Peeta silently took his place on the stage; we shook hands and then just cut to the anthem.

Effie Trinket is disgruntled about the state her wig was in. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behaviour."

Unexpectedly, Peeta laughed. "He was drunk." He said. "He's drunk every year."

"Everyday," I added, finally breaking my silence streak with a smirk. Effie makes it sound kike Haymitch just had rough manners that could easily be dealt with.

"Yes," She hissed "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

Just then, Haymitch staggers into the compartment. "I miss supper?" he slurred. Then he vomits all over the expensive carpet and falls in a mess.

"So laugh away!" said Effie Trinket. And so I did, I barked out mocking laughter as she hopped in her pointy shoes around the pool of vomit and fled the room.

Word count: 2974

Tags:

@nin3s

[fandom-imagines-stories]

The World is Better Now

Peeta Mellark x Reader

Words: 2503

Summary: Nearly a year since the fall of the Capitol, the reader and Peeta have lived happily together in peace. They have helped each other through the darkest nights and the worst nightmares. Now, the reader feels a new kind of fear. 

Notes: I rewatched the Hunger games series and I forgot how adorable Peeta is. So here goes nothing. As always, let me know what you think! (So this is an AU where the reader was in the Quarter Quell, just in case anyone was confused. Katniss is just a friend in this one.)

-

You thought you knew what life was like. You thought that you would die in the Games and be just another fallen Tribute. When you won, you thought you were safe. When President Snow announced that the Quarter Quell would select from a pool of Victors, your hope for a better life was gone. But then he happened. Even after everything he had been through, he still had this light. A light that you thought you had lost forever. Somehow, he brought it back. So yeah, you thought you knew what life was like. But this was so much more than that. 

“Y/N!” Peeta called from your little house on the hill as you seemingly searched the meadow for something. His voice was like a distant murmur. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but you could feel it. Before you could think too much on it, you felt arms wrap around your middle and a puff of breath against your neck, blowing through the few strands of hair that had fallen from the hairpins you had put in that morning. You couldn’t help but jump, flinching away from the sudden contact. You turned to see your husband, clearly trying to hide the hurt in this eyes. 

“Sorry.” You muttered, feeling the shame turn your face slightly pink. Now he felt bad. You hated it when you made him feel guilty. He deserved the sun, if you only had the power to give it to him. 

“Hey,” He just smiled, quickly putting your mind at ease as he took your face in his hands. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you. I thought you heard me calling. I’m sorry.” He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, reassuring you that he wasn’t in any way upset before taking your hand. “Come on, dinner’s ready.” 

With the exception of Katniss and Haymitch, the two of you were alone out here. You weren’t part of the new society after the fall of the Capitol. Instead, you sought refuge in the rolling fields outside what was once District 12. Due to your isolation, there was technically no legality to your marriage. In fact, the only ones there to witness your vows were Katniss, Haymitch, and even Effie, who insisted on bringing endless yards of fabric with her to help you make a dress. You exchanged rings and vows, promising to love each other through everything and to never forget what you’d been through together. You didn’t need anything official. You were his and he was yours and that’s all you could have ever hoped for.

He, of course, was far better at cooking than you were so he often made dinner. Tonight, he made fresh bread and some seared fish from the lake nearby. You hardly touched any of it, feeling your stomach twist and turn, suddenly feeling ill. Your face had grown pale and Peeta’s expression morphed with concern. 

“Are you okay?” He stood from his seat across the table to move closer, examining the sweat that now glistened across your forehead. You nodded, but you quickly pushed away from him, burying your head in the sink and losing what little you had eaten. You felt Peeta’s hand on your back, rubbing up and down your skin trying to comfort you. When you slid down against the cabinet, he sat with you, grabbing a towel to wipe your lips. 

“Sorry.” You muttered through heavy breaths. “I-I don’t know where that came from.” You stood on shaky legs, but after a moment, you felt fine again. Strange, but fine. There was nothing in the meal that would have made you sick and you hadn’t been feeling ill at all that day. Deep in your gut, you started to worry. 

-

You spent the morning wandering the woods with Katniss. It was a weekly ritual for the two of you. Some time away from the guys. You liked to think that she opened up a little more when it was just the two of you. As if you had been friends since you were little girls. Growing up in District 5, you had a much cushier life than both her and Peeta, but you’d grown accustomed to the quieter, simpler life outside the New Panem. 

“Peeta said that you were sick last night.” Katniss started, looking up into the trees. You grimaced. Of course he did. There were few secrets between the four of you since you all lived out here by yourselves. 

“Yeah, but I feel fine.” You debated whether or not you should share your fears. That your illness was anything but random. That it meant something far more frightening than an upset stomach. Katniss noticed your uneasy expression and put a hand on your shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” You took a deep breath. You needed to tell somebody.

“I’m worried that I might be…” You couldn’t even bring yourself to say it, but she understood. Her hand slipped off your shoulder and she crossed her arms, trying to process. 

“Oh.” She just stared at you for a moment, barely even blinking. Katniss was never really one with words. You exhaled deeply and explained to her your suspicions. This wasn’t the first time you had been sick. This wasn’t even the third. On top of that, every time you looked into the meadow, you felt like something was coming. You could search and search, but you never figured out what. When you finished talking, Katniss sighed. “Follow me.” 

She took you back to her house and found a small box she had hidden in the back of her kitchen cabinet. Handing you the box, she gave you a very uncomfortable smile. You dumped a small bottle into the palm of your hand. 

“What are these?” You shook the bottle gently, hearing pills rattle around inside. 

“Effie made me promise to give them to you when you and Peeta started thinking about... you know.” She rocked back on her heels. “It’s some kind of test from the Capitol.” You gave her a look. 

“Why’d she give them to you?” 

“She didn’t want you guys to think she was pressuring you or something.” She shrugged. “And it’s not like she could give them to Haymitch.” You both chuckled, breaking up some of the awkwardness. 

“Thanks.” You stuffed the bottle into your pocket, the small item somehow making your hand feel heavy. You started to leave, but you paused. “Don’t tell him about this, okay?” Katniss gave you a crooked smile and nodded. And just like that, everything changed. 

-

A day passed and you didn’t tell a soul. The test was positive. You were pregnant. In just a few short months you would be bringing life into a world that had taken so many lives from you. And that never seemed clearer than when you got letters from Annie. Sweet, loving Annie whose son would never meet his father. As Peeta read her encouraging words, all you could hear was Finnick. His laugh, his smug little jokes to cheer you up. Even though you’d only been a Victor for two years longer than Katniss and Peeta, Finnick was the one to help you adjust to the new lifestyle. He was really the closest thing you had to a brother. You winced, his laugh replaced by his dying screams in your head. 

“Love, Annie.” Peeta finished reading with a small smile and tucked the letter into the picnic basket beside him. “I’m glad she’s been able to somewhat adjust.” You nodded in agreement. You had barely said two words to him since you found out. Maybe you were afraid that you’d let it slip. Peeta had noticed your silence, but he chose not to press you. He knew that sometimes you would just let your thoughts wander without saying a word. But there was something different about the way you looked at him. 

“Peeta,” You said his name so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. You took his hand in yours, bringing it slowly up to your lips to place gentle kisses on his fingertips. You didn’t want anything to change. Peeta held your hand in between his own, his eyes shining with both admiration and concern. You had to tell him. 

“Y/N, are you sure that everything is- what, what is it?” He noticed your eyes grow wide, staring at his hand. His gaze followed yours and his breathing quickened with panic. A wasp crawled across the back of his hand, it’s bright yellow exterior providing little comfort. It wasn’t a tracker jacker, but it didn’t matter. 

“Peeta, it’s just a wasp.” You assured him, hoping he would look at you and not the insect. 

“I-I know.” He said, but his voice was shaky and his hands started to tremble slightly as he strained to keep still. You’d never actually had to encounter the mutt insects, but you knew that he had in his games. Tracker jacker venom was also what they used on him to try and distort his memories to turn him against the rebels and even you. His hand jerked away, but he only aggravated it more. He yelped as it stung him, flying away to safety. Though the pain was brief and minimal, it was the memories you feared more. 

Peeta tried to hold it back, but his mind swirled between the present and the past, mixing with all the horrors he had seen. You took his face in your hands, urging those beautiful hazel eyes to focus on you.

“Peeta, it’s okay. Look at me. It’s okay.” You pulled him close to you, his head resting on your chest, hoping that the sound of your heartbeat would calm him. It usually did, despite how rapidly it was beating now. You ran one hand up and down his back while you gently stroked his blonde hair with the other. “It’s okay.” Sitting there, holding him, you knew more than ever that you couldn’t do it. How could you bring a child into a world that had done such cruel things to such a kind person? A world that had broken him in ways you would never understand. It had broken you. 

-

After his episode, Peeta decided to spend the rest of the day relaxing inside. He settled in front of his easel, using a mix of blacks and greys to replicate the storm clouds gathering overhead. In contrast, he painted the yellow flowers beneath them, their brightness only slightly dulled by the gloomy atmosphere. He looked out the window, watching you walk slowly through the patches of primrose. 

“It’s beautiful.” Katniss said from behind him. He turned and gave her a small smile. 

“I want it to remind her that there’s brightness growing out of the dark.” He’d noticed that you had had a hard time adjusting to a life of peace after the horrors that you’d all been through. Sometimes, he was sure you were still trying to escape the games in your mind. 

“She should probably get inside.” Katniss noted, looking out to the flowers, but you weren’t there anymore. “It looks like it’s going to storm.” As if on cue, a bolt of lightning shot across the sky, followed by a loud roll of thunder. There was another sound; a faint cry muffled by the closed window. 

“What was that?” Peeta slid the window up and listened closer. Another boom was followed by another scream. “Y/N.” Your names left his lips in a panic as he ran down the stairs and out into the rain. 

“Y/N!” Katniss shouted, the rain starting to pour down, pounding against the pavement. She might have been more scared than Peeta. She knew the truth. It wasn’t just you in danger anymore. Peeta’s eyes swept the trees while Katniss checked around the houses. After the loudest crash of thunder yet, the screams became words. 

“No! Finnick!” You were running through the trees, looking up at the sky where you saw the faces flash in your head. Each boom of thunder was another canon, another death. Haymitch, Annie, Katniss… Peeta. “Peeta!” You shrieked, falling to your knees in the mud. “Peeta!” 

“Y/N!” He knew those cries. You often screamed like that when you had a nightmare, clawing up at the air as if he was flying away from you. 

You curled up on the forest floor, not caring that mud covered your cheek or that the rain pelted against your back. You wrapped your arms around your stomach, wishing that you could make it go away. You knew that the next canon was for your baby. 

“No!” You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t raise a child in this never ending storm. 

“Y/N! I found her!” Peeta’s voice was barely audible over your own screaming and the rain. You flinched away from his touch as another canon sounded in your head. You felt his strong arms wrap around you and lift you up, holding you close to his chest. 

“Peeta…” You whimpered, weakly tugging at his shirt. “T-the canons.” 

“It’s okay. We’ll be home soon.” Katniss found him and he quickly took you back to the house, rain still pounding against your skin. You looked up at the sky one last time, seeing Finnick’s face once again flashing against the clouds. Peeta put you down on the sofa and wrapped as many blankets as he could around you while Katniss went to grab some dry clothes. 

“I can’t do this.” You cried, trembling violently from the cold. “Everything is so dark and cold and cruel. I can’t curse someone else to live through what we did.” 

“What do you mean?” Peeta pushed your wet hair out of your face. 

“The… baby.” He froze. 

“What?” 

“Peeta, I’m pregnant.” You felt more tears cascading down your cheeks, your hands clutching your stomach. “And I don’t want to bring a child into this place.” Despite your distress, Peeta could barely contain his smile. 

“We’re going to have a baby?” 

“Peeta… what about everything we’ve been through? Can we really condemn another person to that, let alone our child?” He put his hand on top of yours, looking deeply into your eyes. 

“Y/N, the world is better now.” He gave you a comforting smile. “We can raise our children in peace knowing that they will have a better life.” Your smile was still unsure so he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I will never, ever let anything happen to them.” You lifted your hand to rest on his cheek. 

“You’re going to be a great dad.” His face lit up and he scooped you up in his arms, causing both of you to laugh. 

“And you are going to be the best mother.” He pressed his forehead to yours, letting his words sink in. Cradled in his arms you felt like nothing would ever harm you. Maybe it was possible, after all this time and through all of the fears, to be truly happy.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination

[littleoddwriter]

Hello! I have three things to tell you: 1) You're the best and I'm happy to know you! 2) I wonder when did you start writing on Tumblr 3) I would like to request you a story with Zsaszmask and their son Andrew when they are not very happy to discover that their "little boy" hangs out with Harley. Humor and fluff would be nice! Thnks in advance and have a nice day!

Sacrifices | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask | KidFic

1) Thank you so much, I’m happy to know you as well! <3 2) Actually, I only started last year in early November! After having taken a break from writing altogether for 4 years, I got back into it with ZsaszMask fics and then thought to write Reader ones as well and post them here, and here we are now. :D

3) This is probably not very humorous, but I hope you like it anyway! Thanks so much for the request, it was quite the delight. :) <3

summary; see above.

notes; TW // Mention of/Implied Past Child Abuse; Misogyny (this is written in Roman’s POV, so- you know) and Ableist Language. Domestic Fluff; Kid Fic; Painting Nails; Group Hug; a tiny bit of angst, I guess? Also, this plays before BoP, so Harley is still with the Joker and Andy is 15 here instead of 17 like in the last fic!

Roman and Victor had been out attending business most of their late afternoon. It hasn’t taken as long as they had anticipated, though, as Sionis has reached a compromise and secured a deal with his business partner relatively soon.

Apparently, Andrew – their fifteen-year-old son – hadn’t expected them to be home so early, either.

When the two men had entered the loft, they could already hear this really obnoxious voice and accent. Harley fucking Quinn.

What the fuck was the Joker’s little princess doing here?

Roman glared at his partner, who just shrugged, frowning as well.

“Fix me a Martini. I’ll go take a look at what the fuck is going on here. ‘Kay?” Sionis said and headed towards his son’s room, not waiting for an answer from Zsasz.

Stopping at Andrew’s room’s doorway, Roman took in the atrocious scene that was happening right in front of him.

Harley was painting Andrew’s nails.

Harley motherfucking Quinn was painting his son’s fucking fingernails.

Clearing his throat, Roman drew their attention to him. It should have been on him the moment he’s stopped to stand there, but they were too caught up talking and laughing with each other. It disgusted him. This was his son! He wasn’t supposed to tattle with the woman he hated most (right after his own mother anyway).

When Andrew noticed him, he jumped a little, probably surprised to see him.

How long have these two been friends without Roman even knowing it?

“Dad- Hey, uh-,” Andrew started, chuckling nervously.

“Oh! Hiya, Romy! You’re home already? Or did we lose track of time, Andy Baby?” Harley chirped so fucking sickeningly, that stupid bitch.

“We came home early. That’s not important, though. What’s important is what the fuck you are doing here?” Roman asked, fuming already, and took some steps towards the other two.

“Painting our nails, silly! What else does it look like? And here, Andy’s nails are so pretty now!” The crazy bitch said, shoving his son’s hands into Roman’s face, making him look.

Begrudgingly, Sionis had to admit that the glittery baby-blue nail polish fit his son really well, but he wasn’t going to say it out loud. Not when she was listening, too.

“That’s not what I meant, Ms. Quinn,” Roman sneered, “I want to know what you are doing here, in my apartment, with my son. How long has this been going on, hm?”

“A couple of months,” Andrew finally piped up, “I like Harley! She is fun to hang out with, dad.”

“Awww, Andy Baby, you’re fun to spend time with, too! See, Romy, it’s all fine! What’s the buzz about, anyway?”

Clenching his jaw, Roman forced himself to take a deep breath, trying so hard not to explode then and there. He wasn’t scared of Harley, but her stupid “Clown Prince” – boyfriend – wasn’t someone he necessarily wanted to be on the bad side of.

“It’s nothing. Still, I’d prefer it if you could leave, now, Ms. Quinn. I’d like to spend some private family time with my son and partner, ‘kay?” Roman hoped she’d catch on and leave without any big theatrics; he really wasn’t going to able to hold onto the last shred of his patience for much longer.

Harley made a sad little sound, playing it up big time, but then she nodded, grinning so stupidly. “Fine, I’ll leave! I’ll see you soon then, Andy?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Bye, Harley. And thanks for the nails,” Andrew said, hugging the crazy bitch, before she got up, patted Roman on the cheek and left, skipping to the door.

Roman was glad that he was going to wash his face anyway. Now he had all the more reason to scrub it thoroughly, though.

Cautiously, Andrew got up from his bed, which he’s sat on with Harley the entire time. “Dad?” he asked quietly.

Before Roman could reply, Victor finally came back with his Martini. He downed it in one go, desperate for the liquor to numb some of the pain he felt.

“So, what exactly was that Harley-Bitch doing here?” Zsasz asked, ever so gracefully.

Roman looked at Andrew expectantly, “Why don’t you tell your father why she was here, hm?”

He knew he was being an asshole; he should give it a rest and just pretend as though none of this happened, but he just couldn’t. He felt betrayed by his own son, and he was just so fucking pissed because of Harley’s mere presence anyway.

“Uh, well, we’re friends. And she came over to paint my nails while you were gone. I didn’t expect you back so early. I’m sorry,” Andy explained, fidgeting with his hands nervously.

At the sight of his son being so nervous – scared, Roman’s heart clenched painfully. He knew what that was like. Worse even. He didn’t want to be like his own father. He should do better. He wanted to do better.

“Well, you know how much we don’t like having her here, Andrew. You shouldn’t have let her come to the apartment in the first place,” Victor responded calmly.

Roman was a bit in awe of his partner and how well he was handling this – so much better than he was.

“I know, I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I guess. Can I stay friends with her, though? Please?”

Sionis sighed, setting his Martini glass down on his son’s bedside table. “Come here,” he murmured, stretching his arms out in invitation, all anger gone and exchanged for a strange kind of sadness he’s not felt since Andy was still just a boy.

Andrew took some cautious steps towards him and when he was right in front of him, Roman wrapped his arms around his boy, who reciprocated the embrace immediately, resting his head sideways on his father’s chest.

“You too, Victor,” Roman then said and Zsasz immediately joined in, embracing them both tightly.

“So you’re not mad at me anymore?” Andy asked, his voice a little muffled by the hug.

“No, baby. I’m-,” Roman sighed heavily, the next words not coming out of him very easily, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. My differences with Harley shouldn’t extend to you. If you want to be friends with her, so be it. But don’t meet with her here in the future, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, alright, that’s fair. Thanks, dad.” Momentarily, Andrew’s arms tightened around his waist, eliciting a genuine smile from Roman.

“Show your dad and me your nails, will you? I want to see them properly, now.”

They all let go of each other and Andrew lifted his hands, spread his fingers and let his dads inspect them.

“Looks good,” Victor commented, smiling crookedly.

“Agreed. As much as I hate her, she did a good job painting your nails. Not only that, but the colour looks incredible on you, my boy.”

Giggling, Andrew’s cheeks turned a light pink colour. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Roman replied softly, gently stroking his boy’s cheek with his knuckles.

While Roman would never be able to like Harley, he guessed that perhaps he should at least try to tolerate her some more. For Andrew. He wanted to do him right and that meant making some sacrifices, as he’s had to learn from the very beginning of adopting him. It would be okay, though, as long as Andrew never ended up hating his guts the way Roman did with his own father.

[slashermom]

What about some headcanons of the Sinclair brothers on Valentine's Day? Would they celebrate with their s / o? Would it be an ordinary day for them? Instruct us, mom!

Bo

Vaguely aware of the holiday.

Used to use it as an excuse to go to a bar and pick up some lonely sucker for a night of fun.

But if he missed it he’s wasn’t too worried about it. He’s very pleased with his ability of persuasion and he doesn’t need some dumb little holiday to get some.

Just makes it easier.

Now he’s got a reason to keep an eye out for the 14th of February.

Spoiler: He still forgets.

He’s only reminded of the date when you utter to him a breathy ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ as you straddled his waist and started kissing him passionately first thing in the morning.

Son of a bitch! He forgot. How could he forget? You clearly didn’t. There’s still time to fix this, but he’s having trouble thinking of much of anything when you’re rolling your hips like that.

After your little morning adventure in the sheets, Bo is quick to get ready and head out the door.

Promising you that he’s just got to take care of something for Lester and then he’ll spend the rest of the day glued to your side.

Has trouble with the gift part at first.

Intimacy? Fucking for hours on end? Not a problem.

But getting you a gift that is supposed to show how much you mean to him?

He’s clueless.

Bo knows what you like and what you don’t, he’s just unsure of what’s appropriate.

He’s never had to do this kind of thing before.

Bo ends up settling on a necklace. An inexpensive one that looks quite nice and you can’t tell he actually got from Walmart unless you were told.

He feels like a dick for settling and promises to do better next year.

Turns out he was worried about nothing, you loved the necklace.

Bo feels himself lean down to get closer to you as you press a kiss to his cheek. Wanting to feel more of your affection, something he swears is just as addictive as any of his liquor.

He’s definitely gonna do better next year. You deserve it.

Bo’s pretty smug that he was able to pull that off but he also really does love you and is grateful to have you. Even if he does forget about Valentine’s Day.

Vincent

Has been planning this for a while.

When he was a kid he watched Trudy and Victor get ready for a night out during Valentine's Day.

His mother is the prettiest dress and makeup and his father in a clean shirt and his nicest slacks. They looked like something out of a movie.

Obviously, he can’t give you all that, but he’s gonna try to give you the best Valentine's Day possible.

He’s been working on this beautiful acrylic painting for just about a month now.

He’s started over and changed a million different details almost every day.

Vincent wanted it to be perfect for you.

It had to be.

He spent most of the day before Valentine’s couped up in the basement. Finally, the ideas and inspiration flowing through him at a steady pace and he wasn’t gonna let it slip away just because he was hungry or tired.

You began to grow a little worried when it was well into the 14th and you still hadn’t seen your man.

He always hides away, but this time you were concerned and weren’t gonna wait any longer.

Stomping down the basement stairs you barely gave the half-awake man enough time to cover the painting and stand in front of it.

You called out his name and raised your eyebrows as you saw him awkwardly standing in front of something.

He was definitely surprised to see you but was even more surprised to see the vase of freshly picked flowers in your grasp.

You handed him the vase with a smile and a ‘Happy Valentine’s Day!’. He stared at the flowers for a long moment, love swelling in his chest.

It was time to show you.

He set the flowers on the workbench before ushering you forward and motioning you to take the apron off the canvas.

You gave him a questioning look and a cheeky smile before moving the fabric out of the way.

You audibly gasp and hands shot up to cover your mouth as you looked at the painting for the first time.

It was you in the beautiful flower field just through the woods.

The exact place where you got the flowers for Vincent.

You took in all the blues, whites, yellows, and greens with wonderment and even felt your heart stutter as he got all of your features almost perfect.

“This must have taken hours.”

Oh, you wouldn’t know the half of it. Vincent chuckled to himself.

You turned around to face the man who was now sitting on a stool. His fingers tugging at a stray string on the edge of his sweater as he avoided eye contact.

You wedged your legs between his knees and set your hands on his shoulders. Vincent still wouldn’t full meet your gaze so you ran your hands across his shoulder up his neck and tucked your thumbs right under where his mask was. You carefully tilted his head up so he would finally look at you.

“Vincent, I think this is probably the most beautiful Valentine I’ve ever gotten.”

He perked up at that. Really? You weren’t just saying that to make him feel better?

His hands moving from his lap to your thighs where the rubbed up and down before they traveled higher and settled on your waist.

Feeling like the weight of the world was off his shoulders now that he knew you actually liked his gift to you, his head fell forward and rested on your chest.

You carded your hands through his hair and across his back. He shuttered. Even after this long, he could never get used to the way you touched him.

“I really do love your gift... Let me show you how much I love it.” Vincent picked his head up at this. He wouldn’t mind a little appreciation for all his hard work.

Lester

Was the kid who would go ‘EWWWW’ when his mom and dad would be especially lovey on Valentine's.

Yes, he’s been a bastard his whole life.

But in high school, he had this huge crush on this girl in his biology class and tried to give her a less than desirable valentine.

(It was a critter.)

But this time around, he’s determined to do better.

So he gets up early and heads into town to get you a proper Valentine’s Day gift.

He was just gonna do a box of chocolates and pick up a couple of movies for you two to curl up and watch together.

But then something caught his eye.

A ginormous light brown teddy bear.

That’s perfect!

He hauls that thing up under one arm, snags a couple of movies, and pays for it without a second thought.

When he gets out to trunk he realizes it’s probably not the best idea to plunk it in the back where he puts all the dead game so he stuffs it into the front seat with him.

It’s quite a sight.

The whole way home he’s practically vibrating with excitement.

Lester can’t wait to see your face when you see it.

He hopes you like it.

But as he’s on the final stretch home, he starts having doubts.

What if you don’t like it? What if you thought it was dumb? Maybe he should’ve just bought you the chocolate or something?

When he finally pulls into the driveway he’s surprised to see you on the porch with a puzzled look on your face as your eyes see the fluffy bear crowded in the front seat.

He hops out and as he’s making his way over to you he begins explaining and even apologizing.

“I thought it would be cute and all and I know how you like this kinda stuff... But if you don’t like it I can bring it back! I still got the receipt-“

He’s cut off by you wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him for a kiss. Effectively quelling all his worries.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He’s got a big ol’ goofy grin and his neck and ears are a bright red.

Lester leaves you only for a second to tug the bear out of the truck and grabbed the bag of movies before he wraps an arm around your waist and brings you inside to enjoy the rest of the holiday.

[silverfierro]

Secrets in Spotlight // Self Para

A pivotal moment was upon them. A moment more exciting than any promotion, more memorable than any dance held in the school gymnasium, and of such sheer importance that their lives hanging in the balance could be saved by the right phrase or look into the camera just because of it. 

Gemma radiated preparedness, stationed to step on stage the moment Niko’s friend from District 5 was through with his interview.

Niko continually collapsed inward as he tried on the skin of a version of himself that cared. 

The crowd loved her. Gemma basked in the acknowledgement that everything she’d done to impress had seemingly worked. The roar of the sitting audience was all she had dreamed about every night since their training scores were revealed. Their faces didn’t matter. She could replace them with whoever’s face she wanted. Her friends, her coworkers, her acquaintances from Six’s streets. 

Seated across from Calix, the young girl elongated her spine and was terribly aware of the rapid drying of her gums as she tried to hold her smile. 

“Gemma Raz, everyone!” the man yelled. “You and your district partner Niko have certainly captured the attention of the nation, though not in the way anyone expected! You two media moochers! Have you always been so outgoing? 

She instinctively tried to pull at a piece of her hair that wasn’t hanging there at the moment. “I’m a bit of a go-getter,” she explained. “I was taught from a young age to go after everything I want and to never give up on it.”

“That much is clear!” the interviewer expressed. “And so what are you chasing after here? Victory? Do tell.”

Gemma wanted desperately to pause and consider an answer, but silence could be translated to doubt which in turn could result in ridicule. She could not allow for anyone to think she wasn’t certain of herself. Even if it meant lying or faking it without giving Niko a head’s up.

“Of course victory. Being here isn’t something I can say I wanted, but now that I’m here, I recognize all of the possibilities being a victor could provide. There’s change we could make in our home district, experiences to indulge in here, and opportunities I never thought could be so close in reach. Niko and I are eager to make those possibilities a reality.” Lovely, she thought, she was able to rope him in.

The interview continued without even a hint of a snag. Gemma laughed at Calix’s humor and gifted the audience every answer she imagined they wanted from her. She stressed loyalty and teamwork above all. That part was easy. Betraying Niko was a scenario she couldn’t fathom. The only constant of the arena playing in her mind was her best friend beside her. The brick that keep her grounded, the splash of water in the face when sparkles of delusion blinded her. She needed him.

“One last question for you, darling,” Calix said, causing the audience to fall silent. “What advice from your father are you taking into the arena with you?”

Gemma must’ve spoken about her dad much more than she had anticipated, either now or on the live steam from the day before. It was a good thing. She’d make them aware of a detail without even doing it on purpose.

“My father is simply jammed full of expertise,” she bragged on him. “He’s taught me dozens of things, but the most important one has to be his policy on people.” She paused to remember the first time she heard the words out of his mouth. It was such an impactful moment in her life, wisdom that she carried with her as often as she did a pen or her purse.

“Everyone has a purpose in life whether they want it or not. You can either be a stepping stool for others or the one climbing to the top. It’s always your choice.” Her own voice speaking sounded so much like his she shuddered.

“We hope you’ll reach those heights, Gemma. Everyone, the female tribute from district 6!” Calix applauded the girl as she exited the stage. Gemma, in what she could’ve sworn was slow motion, gave the camera one last longing look before she disappeared from view and came face-to-face with Niko.

“How did I do?” she asked whilst the rush of the interview faded off her face and was replaced with the look of analyzing every detail of the last five minutes. 

“You want the truth or do you want me to lie?” Niko asked without staring back at her.

“Do you need to lie?”

“No.”

She smacked the boy a little harder than she normally would’ve, though being careful not to mess up the fuzz on his jacket sleeve. “Why are you like this?”

“People love you, Gemma,” he explained as though it were obvious. “Asking me if you did well is like asking if the sky is in Six is gray.”

The only had a few seconds of conversation before one was swept backstage for last minute photos and the other was given a countdown to his stage debut. Gemma gazed back. She simultaneously wished him luck, but hoped he wouldn’t do as well as she did. Selfish thinking that she wasn’t proud of.

He wanted to do better, but knew that was an impossible feat. People were shallow and liked public figures they could project themselves onto. They liked personalities like Gemma who would lie to them and be agreeable. Ever since his father had once told him not to move past the outer rim of their home, Niko had found ways to break expectations and move past where he was supposed to. 

He didn’t even remember what the first few questions were. They all seemed generic and, again, shallow. Nothing he could answer with any sort of depth. Calix’s face looked like a clown’s, pulled back and held in-place with some sort of advanced make-up technique that he figured was supposed to look good. Niko spent more time visualizing what they’d do to him to make him more presentable. 

What is your favorite thing about the Capitol so far? What skills do you plan to show-off in the arena? Who do you plan to work with?

His answers prior must’ve been short or lacking, but the longer the heat of the lights above made his neck sweat, the more he wanted off the stage. The role of calm and cool under pressure was getting so old despite being adjacent to his normal behavior. He itched to be rid of it. “Gemma, obviously,” he answered. “There are other tributes I’ve met, but most of them were psychopaths so,” he tailed off, pointing a thumb to where the others waited for their turns. 

The audience reacted with shock as directed by the host, who had shifted gears entirely from his previous guest. “So Niko, we have to admit we did some digging on you. Scandalous, I know, but you should feel honored! Is it true that you aren’t originally from District Six? But instead from the savage wilds outside of Panem’s secure borders?”

The boy stared at the host with confusion. It wasn’t like his origin story was a secret, not when anyone who asked why he didn’t understand holidays or know how to behave in certain situations got an answer as to why. “Savage is one way of describing it, but yah. That’s where I’m from.”

“Meaning you aren’t really from anywhere, are you?” Calix was quite obviously fishing for a reaction and Niko wasn’t about to give him one. 

“The wilds are a place,” he explained, eyes purposefully aimed into the camera instead of at Calix. “I was born there, grew up there. There’s more than just Panem, you know. Peacekeepers still do patrols there all the time.” It didn’t make sense to him why the government didn’t just claim the land outside of Panem’s borders as their own. Nobody owned it and they didn’t want anyone out there. To add it to part of the country made more sense than forbidding it outright.

Calix’s weird face stretched in a devilish manner. “Thank you for bringing me to my next and final point, Mr. Bello. As I mentioned, we dig some research into you and where you came from” Niko was quiet again, listening to Calix speak. What more was there? His parents lived with him in the wilds and they’d been separated when he was five. There was nothing more to tell. 

“Peacekeepers in the year 109 did sweeps of the areas immediately outside our country’s borders, which is where they found your family, hiding from their responsibilities in Six. Your parent’s base was infiltrated and disbanded, while you were graciously taken back to Six to live a normal life.” Calix paused again for the audience to take in the information he was feeding them. Niko slouched in his chair, disinterested and frustrated that his interview was lasting longer than he planned. 

“What you don’t know is that the peacekeeper task force assigned to that mission was stationed in District Six. Their captain? A man named Richard Raz. Gemma’s father!” Calix gasped, as did the rest of the audience before turning to each other in louder-than-appropriate conversation about the bomb dropped.

Niko’s breath was tight inside his chest with nowhere to go. His eyes fixated on Calix’s satisfied grin, he could’ve leaped out of his chair and attacked him if it weren’t for a miniature Gemma sitting on his shoulder. Gemma, the sole person in the world he trusted beyond lending a coin. He wanted to be alone with her. He wanted more truth than what was being said. Did she already know or were her insides stirring as much as his were?

“Thanks for the update, Calix,” Niko finally answered, decisively keeping his dignity. A meltdown or outrage wouldn’t be good for the image they’d built up, if there was even a they anymore. He wasn’t so sure now. It mostly depended on what Gemma thought of it all. He could almost hear her denying it already, but this was cold-hard fact. Blaming her for her father’s actions would be stupid, but it was exactly the kind of thing she would think he would do. “That’s five questions though, right? I’m out.” 

He stood up and nodded to the audience, walking out as Calix hastily gave him away. If he had missed up his plans for ratings or highlight videos, good. 

Somehow he wasn’t expecting Gemma to be the first person he came into contact with. Her eyes were watery and he immediately dismissed it. “Quit it,” he demanded of her sternly. “This doesn’t change anything. He didn’t even dig up anything good. What happened in the past has nothing to do with us.”

He said it with the upmost belief, but it was apparent in the way he didn’t gravitate towards her and in how her eyes didn’t glow like stars that something had indeed changed. 

Gemma reached for him instead in a warm embrace partially blocked by the clothing they wore. “I could never hurt you, Niko,” she choked through tears.

“I know,” he replied, the hurt taking the place of shock as he wrapped his arms around her. “You wouldn’t.”

[its-freakinbats]

Hold Me Down-- r.s. x reader

Hello, all! I have escaped my hole in the ground and decided to write. I saw Birds of Prey three times in theaters and did my best to not write for this asshat, but here we are. 

Roman Sionis needs to be dommed, and that’s that on that.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I plan on making this a two parter; expect a very steamy part two in about two weeks or so.

Pairing ofc is Roman Sionis and Reader

Word Count: 4180

 Rating: T ( i guess??)

Dearest, 

Mr. Sionis and I have come to the difficult conclusion that your services are no longer required in an attempt to win the favor of Mr Crone.

Cheers.

✦ ✦

You prided yourself on your ability to handle most situations with a resolute conviction.

Between the piece of work that was your negligent mother and your strained relationship with your difficult father, you’d had more than enough experience with unmanageable situations with unmanageable people. 

It was what made working for Roman Sionis so easy. You could handle his emotional outbursts, and you could handle the sadism of everything he and his followers did. Everything they did was just a means to an end, after all.

A terrible, terrible end. 

But what could you do? Sionis had effectively found a lonely, capable soul with a tarnished family name and did what he did best: he commandeered your life, and promised that you would have nothing else taken from you. 

His only request from you was to do as he said. In a way, it was not unlike the years you had spent appeasing your parents. 

Sionis told you where to go, you did what was required, and then some.

What he had given you was more than you had at the time, and you were grateful for his protection, if anything else.

But over the years, you had proven yourself to be a valuable asset to the organization. You were relatively level-headed (compared to your boss), cunning, and resourceful.

It was far more than you could say for some of the bumbling fools Sionis had employed in the past. 

Victor Zsasz may have been the watchdog, the right hand man, even, but you were more. Where Victor was graceless and impulsive, you were calculated and swift. Roman had once said that they were your best traits. He had assured you that they made you one of the most important players in his game. 

Yet for the third time in the last few months, you were told to back off as negotiator. 

The email that you had printed out was clutched by a shaking hand. You couldn’t think of a time when you’d been this angry with him. It was one thing for him to be disparaging; despite his iciness, his words could hardly pierce you. It was something else entirely for him to be so resolute, to snatch your work from under you and watch you fall helplessly.

As you strode to the back of the club, you ignored the greetings that the barkeep had shot your way; it wasn’t often you were in a foul mood, and you hoped he was smart enough to know to leave you alone.

As you began your ascent to the top of the staircase, you felt the paper in your clenched fist practically burn you. 

The words from the courier were simple, and very few. 

But you knew their weight, just as you knew the weight from the other two messages you'd received recently. 

You knew it meant you weren’t to be trusted anymore, and it ignited a fury you couldn’t extinguish. 

Your steps were heavy as you stomped up the spiraling staircase, and part of you had wished that they could hear you coming. 

All sense of dignity left as you stood before the door to his pad and you pounded your fist against it.

The sound hadn’t even taken him aback, it seemed. When you heard Zsasz swear and cock his gun, you heard Roman merely tame him in response.

“Put it down, Zsasz, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he assured the man.

Nothing to be afraid of, my ass, you thought to yourself as you clutched the paper tighter.

“Is that my sugar plum rapping at my chamber door?” Roman Sionis’s voice called from the inside of the room. Not for the first time, you thought about how satisfying it might be to sucker punch him in the throat.

Victor opened the door and offered a toothy grin in your direction. Before he could quip about your chagrined state, you shoved past him with a low, “Button it, Zsasz.” 

The man’s grin fell, and you heard his heavy footsteps follow you as you made your way to Roman’s desk.

The thug in question had his chin in his hand as you approached him. He tried looking child-like in that annoying way he sometimes did. Even after several years, you weren’t sure what was more frightening; his artificial pacification, or his bouts of rage. 

You knew just how dangerous Sionis could be. You’d known for years, yet that hadn’t stopped you from snapping at him and challenging him before. Roman was...not a good man. He was capable of pretty fucking horrible things. Hell, you’d seen some of the terrible things he’d done, and heard rumors of far worse. Part of you had wondered what had kept him from lashing out at you. 

You’d hiss some poisonous words, and he’d reciprocate before telling you that it would all be okay. That you had nothing to worry your pretty little head about.

The thought of his paternalistic cooing made your lips curl into a grimace. 

You didn’t speak, choosing instead to take a moment to calm your heaving chest and boiling blood.

After a few moments, Roman offered a raised brow.

“To what do I owe this...outburst?” he asked. 

“Boss,” Victor interrupted cautiously, but Roman held up a gloved hand.

“I’m sure whatever our little lady has to say, she can articulate perfectly without hurting anyone.” 

You gritted your teeth at the nickname and the way he spoke of you.

It was like you were pathetic.

You held his curious gaze for a moment longer before the fury inside of you snapped once more. 

You slammed the email printout hard upon his desk, not minding that your hand stung from the force. 

Roman’s eyes left yours for a split second to look at what you brought before him. He tutted gently, and the condescension wasn’t lost on you. 

“You couldn’t CC me in this email, dove?” he asked, and your fingers twitched at the way Victor laughed at the quip. 

You were never one to act purely on emotions. Your mother had convinced you that it was a weakness. After seeing how the two men you worked with had acted in moments of passion, you believed her. 

But now you shook, unsure of how to properly reign yourself in. 

“Explain to me why I’m once again being replaced, ” you said quietly. If you raised your voice, you knew neither of them would take you seriously.

They aren’t taking you seriously now, you reminded yourself. You clenched your jaw at the truth of the statement.

“Sweetling, you have more than enough to deal with right now—” the man started, but you cut him off sharply.

“Don’t you dare start to mollify me like I’m some sort of first week toady of yours, Sionis. I have been working to get this going in our favor for the last three weeks.”

“And what’s come of it?” your boss retorted without a beat. 

You blinked at him. 

You wanted to reply, to slam your hands down upon the desk again. You felt a slight swell of pride at your ability to restrain yourself. 

“From what dear old Silas Crone has told me, you were becoming quite a little problem for him. Not at all what I had in mind.”

He was quiet after that, and you took the moment to think on what he’d said. 

You weren’t necessarily doing anything he wouldn’t do. Actually, you were rather diplomatic compared to him. No, this was his way of feeling in control. This was his way of reminding you that he did what he pleased. 

“You’re...a spitfire, darling,” Roman continued, leaning back in his chair. “I know you can handle these things, but...I’d hate to see you do something you’d regret.” 

You continued to glare at him, so badly wanting to shout.

Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek and nodded. Placating Roman would be the only way to get something akin to a full answer.

“Like what?” you asked after breathing for a moment.

Roman folded his hands neatly.

“Well, for starters, you can be a little...pushy when it comes to offering deals to our potential clients. Losing us certain allies could cost us greatly.”

You didn’t ignore how icy his voice had gotten.

“So, you’d rather I was complacent with their refusal?” you asked, with brows raised.

Roman shook his head.

“Darling,” he said, dragging out the syllables. “I’d rather you use that suggestive force I talk about so much. You don’t need to be incessant, especially when you could use other means to win people’s favor.”

You didn’t need to ask him to elaborate. 

It wasn’t fair. You did your job, and you did it well more often than not. You could probably count on one hand the number of clients you’d lost the team. You didn’t need to sell your body to make it happen, either, and he knew that. 

“What do I have to do to prove to you that I am more than capable of getting the job done?”

But you knew the answer. 

Sionis would never be entirely pleased with what you accomplished, and it was futile to think that you were capable of anything more.

“When you stop going behind my back to do things,” Roman said finally.

You shot him a quizzical look. 

“Behind your back?” you asked incredulously. 

Roman leaned forward and drummed his fingers upon the paper. 

That damned paper. 

“You have an...annoying tendency to take matters into your own hands,” he elaborated finally. “Six months ago, it was the bank teller that you put a hit on. Four months ago, it was that journalist that you threatened into submission. Now, you’re insolent enough to go behind my back and interrogate those hookers found with Crone?”

You didn’t respond at first, too dumbfounded to understand his frustration.

“You tell me to finish my job, and that’s what I do,” you retorted. “That’s the way I’ve always done it. ”

“Without me knowing,” Roman said dangerously. “And you’ve been doing it more and more.”

His words had been spoken in an uncharacteristically diplomatic tone, and they were right.

But who cared if you found other ways of getting what you and your organization needed? The job was done, and the loose ends were taken care of with no one the wiser.

Without me knowing.

Your jaw clenched at the implication. You had to go through him to finish your job? 

Several years practically running his various operations and you were the one being belittled? Nevermind that he wasted his time on trinkets and sawing faces off. Nevermind that Victor had a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ mentality. 

Nevermind that you were shouldering more of the responsibility than was fair.

Your lips twisted into a sneer as you spoke.

“Maybe I make my own decisions because I know how yours usually play out,” you answered coldly. Your fingers curled slightly, wishing that you had your knife in your grasp.

The smile fell from the man’s mouth, and you heard Zsasz shift uncomfortably behind you. Part of you knew that Zsasz wouldn’t dare touch you; you were too important in the great game you all played. But the way Roman was looking now, you almost feared that you’d gone too far.

You were surprised when he didn’t throw something. 

Rather, he steepled his fingers and his gaze grew observant.

He may have possessed the emotional capacity of a sleepy kindergartener, but you knew better than anyone that he could be calculating when he wanted to be. It was the only reason he’d made it as far as he had in the criminal underbelly. 

“How do mine usually play out?” he challenged you, his voice as sharp as his favorite knife. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and closed your eyes. 

You were waltzing right into a trap he was setting. 

When you opened your eyes, he was still watching you with imploring, cold eyes that dared you to continue.

Your lips twitched.

“You antagonize your enemies and then you play with them. You don’t worry about the repercussions, because you think you’re untouchable! You leave it to me to make sure your ass doesn’t get handed to you by the enemy. That’s why I have to play the way I do!” you said, exasperated. 

“Why do you think you’ve made as many allies as you have over the last five years? Because you had me doing the dirty work and making the hard decisions for you! And what do I get? Your ass taking things away from me like I’m some sort of child!”

Your voice was a snarl, and your hands fists. Emotion wasn’t your greatest asset. You knew better than to let him get to you.

Roman’s hands slammed against the desk finally, and you felt yourself jump back slightly.

“Enough,” Roman said, his voice unkind.

He stood up to adjust his blazer, before running a hand through his hair. 

He continued to watch you, even as he spoke to the third party in the room.

If you were honest, you’d almost forgotten the little sociopath was still there.

“Victor, would you be a doll and run through that errand list I had you look at earlier? Our sugar plum and I need to have some words alone.”

You couldn’t hide your slight quiver of fear at the way Roman spoke. Sure, you had a tendency to mouth off, but never to this extent. You’d always swallowed your pride when Roman got a little too possessive. You shrugged off the belittlements, and took the fits of anger in stride with the end goal always in mind. 

You took the opportunity to pull your gaze away from Roman, and you looked at the other man. Victor’s surprised gaze flickered between Roman and yourself. 

Had Zsasz ever spoken back this way? You couldn’t comprehend the man standing up to his boss, probably preferring to placate Roman like he always did.

Bootlicking sycophant.

Finally, he nodded and turned away though not before shooting you a yellow toothed leer. 

You watched him step away and slam the door behind him.

With Zsasz gone, you were left alone with the irate businessman.

You’d experienced Roman’s fits dozens of times. Triple that, actually. Probably more.

Very few times had you actually been on the receiving end of his tirades, but this was an entirely different beast. 

You finally pulled your gaze from the door and fixed your eyes on the blasted email that had started this all. 

“I believe you were in the middle of telling me how wrong I was?” the man said.

You swallowed your fear and looked at him.

He had seated himself once more, and you thought you saw him shake somewhat.

You bit the inside of your cheek, afraid of saying more. What more could you say? You’d already guaranteed yourself some sort of punishment. 

No one retaliated against Roman Sionis without repercussions, not even you.

“Go on,” he continued. “Say it!” 

It wasn’t the volume of his voice that made you flinch (god knew you heard enough of that), it was how quickly he fell back into his facade of stoicism. 

With his adversaries, or the one’s you’d witnessed, he toyed and played with them until they were assuaged enough to believe it was in their favor.

It was then that he struck. 

You couldn’t be sure what he was doing now. 

You looked back at the damned piece of paper that still lay before you, and felt your conviction build once more. 

Fine. 

If he really wanted to hear it, you certainly wouldn’t disappoint.

You braced yourself against his desk, and leaned in. Your voice was dangerous, yet somehow he remained unaffected.

“You gave me a job to do, no matter what it took. I did what was asked of me like I always do. And yet, you’re ungrateful for how fucking hard I work to appease you.”

The man’s lips twitched, and you wondered just how deep under his skin you had gotten yourself. 

“I don’t need to run every one of my choices past you, Sionis,” you reminded him.  

When you saw something glint maliciously in his eyes, you wondered if this would be when he finally ended you.

He stood up from his seat again to mirror your position against the desk. 

His gloved fingers just barely brushed past yours, and you considered pulling your knife out to pin his hand to the lovely oak that made up his work space.

“Every little thing you do goes through me, sugar,” he said coldly.

“Every time you breathe, I know about it. Every time you pay off that house loan, I know about it. Every time you choose to disobey me, I know about it. You aren’t nearly as careful as you think you are.” 

His voice was positively venomous.

Your glower deepened, and your knuckles turned white from how hard they were clenched.

“And next time, you will tell me before you make another idiotic decision like that,” Roman hissed.

When you moved to stand back, his hand grabbed your wrist and held it in place.

“Consider this your only warning, sugar plum. Insubordination is not something I take lightly.”

You looked down at his grip on your wrist before meeting his eyes. Your lips curled slightly.

“Thank you for your leniency, Mr. Sionis,” you said with disdain. “Now may I please have my hand back?” 

You could feel Roman’s eyes on you as you strode to the door, but you stopped yourself when you heard him speak up.

“Don’t be like that,” he began, his voice returning to its fun tambre. 

Your eye twitched as you regarded him.

“Just listen to me. That’s all I ask,” he continued. 

You didn’t stop yourself from stalking over to his desk again. The voice in your head shouted at you to back down; he had only given you one warning, after all. There wasn’t anything you could say to change what had happened. 

You looked back down at the desk and saw that the print out was still there. 

You lunged for the paper, but Roman was faster; before you could think, he had pulled it out of your grasp.

It was your turn to slam your hand on the desk, and Roman laughed slightly at that. You moved your way around his desk to snatch it from him, but he lifted it above his head. 

You started to engage in a childish game, with you doing your damndest to win at something today, but to no avail. 

After an embarrassing attempt to gain what little dignity you could, you stopped when you felt the concrete of the wall against your back. 

Roman laughed again.

“All this for a few little words? So many angry things said because you didn’t like an email you got,” Roman said lowly. He tutted once more as he leaned in, with one forearm braced against the wall. 

“Disobedience doesn’t suit you, sweetling. You know better than to act out like that,” he said, quieter this time. 

You ignored his gaze and his comment; you tried to pull away to leave, when you were stopped.

His other hand shot out and blocked your exit, and you noticed that he had taken his gloves off.

“You know I worry about you,” he cooed. “How can I keep my best girl if I don’t know where she’s going? What she’s doing? When she defies me.”

You could ignore his tone, and you could ignore his patronizing words.

You couldn’t ignore the way his finger traced the outline of your lips. 

It was a soft gesture, but this was Roman Sionis. 

You moved to push his hand away, but Roman was faster; he grabbed your offending hand, and then the other one. He shoved your wrists beside your head and leaned in closely. 

“When you started, you told me you’d obey me. Oh, I know!” he said suddenly, his voice jumping an octave. “It’s like a— a marriage,” he continued. “Think of what we have as a little marriage. You honor me, and you obey me. You hold to your vows, and I’ll hold to mine. I’ll protect you. I’ll take care of you. I’ll provide for you.”

You felt a gentle tap on your nose when he spoke next.

“We work together. We both contribute to this partnership. That way, Zsasz, and Crone, and all of our little followers see that mommy and daddy are working in their best interest. Then, they stay loyal.”

You didn’t meet his eyes at first. You’d known how fucked up your situation with him was when you had started all those years ago. It wasn’t until now that you realized the truth of his words. 

It was exactly like a fucked up little marriage, and you had no way out.

“It’s not like I have much autonomy, anyway,” you said stiffly. You held his darkening gaze while his other hand moved to run down your jawline.

“Baby, you don’t need autonomy while I’m around. Haven’t I taught you that lesson already?” he asked. 

His tone was soft, but the grip that had settled on your jaw was not.

“I think you’re too much of a control freak,” he continued, his voice just a harsh whisper in your ear. 

You laughed hollowly at that. 

You moved your head so you were eye to eye and you could swear you saw his resolve faltering; beneath you, you felt his knee settle between your legs. 

You couldn’t move.

“You’re the last person who should lecture me on control,” you hissed. You tried tugging your hands back, but he just pressed them harder into the wall. You wanted to lunge at him when he started laughing.

“Darling, I’m the only one who can lecture you on control,” Roman said, his lips ghosting from yours, to the highest point of your cheekbone, before settling on your jaw. 

You hated the proximity between your bodies, but you hated your reaction to it even more.

You tried to steady your breathing, even as a whisper of a kiss landed on the bottom of your jaw. 

Was this to be your life? To submit to people who protected and manipulated you? To follow them to the ends of the earth because you couldn’t find anything better?

The assault on your neck continued, but just as gently as the first kiss had been. You were still braced against the wall, but your body had slumped slightly.

Then, something came to mind.

You had intended on leaving with some dignity, and maybe, you could leave with it. 

You didn’t make a habit of it, but once or twice you had envisioned giving him a piece of your mind with the suggestive force he so badly wanted you to use.

You moved your head to the side slightly and saw him looking up from where he was. Slowly, he straightened up and his free hand came to grip your head. 

“What’s the first lesson?” you asked. You had said it so quietly, that you weren’t sure if he had heard it. He pulled away to watch you carefully, searching your face for any sort of falsity. 

When you continued to look at him with challenging eyes, you saw the corners of his lips twitch.  

“I’m not sure I have enough time in the world to teach you properly,” he said quietly. His fingers tangled in your hair and gripped roughly.

You remained unfaltering, and you looked at him almost expectantly.

Then get started, you wanted to say.

Instead, you quirked a brow slightly.

He wasn’t stupid. He was paranoid, and you were almost certain that he’d weighed the options before him.

But was also a hedonist, who had to feel in control. 

Oh, how you would show him. 

He wasted no more time after that, and he leaned in to take your bottom lip between his teeth. He began pulling harder on your hair, and you couldn’t help the gasp you had released. It had been silenced, though, when he pressed his mouth roughly to yours.

At some point, his grip had loosened on your head, as well as your wrists. 

When you had attempted to free your wrists, however, you felt his hands return to yours.

His grip remained firm, but the feeling was soon replaced by something much softer. You opened your eyes and pulled away; your wrists had been bound deftly by his scarf. When you looked up at him, he was watching you hungrily.

“The first lesson is to do as you’re told,” he said finally, before pulling away from you to grab you by the arm; you hadn’t spent a terrible amount in his place, but you had a feeling you knew where he was taking you.

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Ten - Finding Solace

My doorbell rang at 6:30 sharp. Apparently the driver shared Victor’s punctuality, and for a moment I considered how effective Victor was on keeping everyone on their toes. Without answering through the intercom, I went downstairs.

The black sedan was parked on the curb in front of the building. I walked to the car and the front passenger window opened. I immediately recognized the bass voice coming from inside.

“Get in.”

I paused for a moment, startled. Didn’t he say he was going to send a car?

“What? You forgot how the door opens?” Well, good morning to you too, Mr. Sunshine.

“Good morning.” I said, getting in the car. Of course, I didn’t have a reply. He pulled the car from the curb and just drove, his eyes focused on the road.

“Your coffee is getting cold.” Victor finally spoke.

I looked down. In the cup holder, there was a paper coffee cup with my name on it.

“Thank you.” I said before taking a sip, the warmth and the caffeine making me feel a whole lot better.

“It’s nothing.”

He spoke without even glancing at me, his eyes on the road at all times. I looked closer at him, hoping he would feel my gaze and at the very least glance at me. After a moment, I realized he was lost in thought. Like the true daughter of a therapist, I studied his posture. He looked tense, his shoulders not all the way down, his grip hard on the wheel.

“You look tense.” I finally blurted out, not caring if he would like it or not.

“Don’t worry about it.”  Ok, he didn’t want to talk. Tough luck.

“How did it go yesterday?” I pressed again.

Victor sighed.

“I spent yesterday’s afternoon with a forensic team. Ted embezzled almost two million dollars from the company. The lawyers pressed charges. He will be taken for questioning today.”

“I’m sorry. I understand it must be hard, you being friends and all.”

“It’s my company. It’s my responsibility.” Victor’s expression turned sour. “I shouldn’t have let friendship affect business.”

“You speak like this is your fault.” I said, in disbelief. Was he really taking the blame for being robbed blind?

Victor was quiet for a while, focused on entering LFG’s parking lot and parking his car at his reserved spot. He killed the engine and sat back on his seat.

“It is my responsibility.” He finally said, his voice low. “The people I hire, what and how they do, all of that is my responsibility.”

“That’s honorable, but a little pretentious as well. You can’t possibly know everything about everyone, know exactly what’s on their minds, predict every crappy thing life throws at you.”

“And even though it’s painstakingly obvious that I can’t, that is exactly what’s expected from me.” His eyes were filled with a painful resolve. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, they say. Victor was fully aware of how heavy the crown was.

Our ride in the elevator to the top floor was silent. Victor kept himself busy with his phone, and I spent the time counting up the floors as we rose through the tall building.

“Today will be a hard day.” Victor said, touching my arm slightly. “Dealing with the mess Ted left won’t be easy, this is more than just making payments, I need to clear the company’s name. I need to protect what took so many years to build. The partners already know you, they will trust you. I’m counting on your help.”

I smiled softly at Victor.

“I’ll do my best. Thank you for trusting my skills.”

 “I do.” His eyes were earnest. “I do trust you.”

As I walked into the office, I was startled with the piles of documents in both desks. Victor followed me in and, without another word, took his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

“So, what do you want me to do?” I said, not even bothering to sit. I took one of the files and skimmed through it.

Victor leaned on the desk and explained his strategy to fix that mess. Some of the partners were trying to back away from the funding, already seeking other investors. Every file contained an alternative investment plan, one more alluring to the partners, in order to keep them with LFG. Ted held the accounts of some major companies, and losing them would be a hard blow on LFG’s reputation and profits.

Goldman joined us shortly after, his hand busy with coffee and food to fuel our morning. I spent the entire time talking to the partners, apologizing for what had happened and offering a renegotiation of the contractual terms.

We never left the office, except for bathroom breaks, having lunch while working. One by one, the files on both our desks disappeared.

By the time Goldman took the last file, it was dark out.

“Are we done?” I asked, leaning back on my chair.

Victor was already leaning on his chair, staring at nothing. He has taken off his tie and undone the first two buttons of his shirt, and he looked exhausted, faint dark circles surrounding his eyes, his hair slightly disheveled.

“Yes. We’re done for today.” Victor said, getting up. “Get your things, I’ll drive you home.”

We left the office and walked in the elevator silently, the humming of the elevator motors the only audible thing. I was startled by Victor’s voice.

“You know, we deserve a treat after all this hard work. Have dinner with me.”

“Sounds good. I mean, if you’re not too tired. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense.” Victor shook his head. “I could use the company and the distraction.”

Victor drove us to an eclectic part of town, filled with buildings of odd colors and shapes. We could see art everywhere: in the walls, the gardens, the light posts. Everything was decorated with something original and beautiful, representing some culture.

“I have been here for what? Almost six months? And I have never visited this part of town, it’s beautiful.” I said as I looked around.

“It’s southwest Loveland, the artistic part of town.” Victor explained. “If you follow the street we just passed to your left, you’ll find Loveland’s Museum. A few blocks after, the Music School and Loveland’s Theatre, where Loveland’s Orchestra performs.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “You’ve been here for months and haven’t properly visited the city yet?”

“Levi keeps inviting me, but work on my thesis during the weekend, so…” I shrugged. My life had been all work, no play. I had to do something about that.

“Levi?”

“My neighbor. He’s an immigrant like me, but he’s been here for years, so he knows his way around the city.”

“That’s ridiculous. You should visit the city with someone that is actually from Loveland, someone who actually knows the place.” Victor said, frowning. “I could give you a tour one of these days.”

“You?” I was surprised. “It’s fine, you probably have better things to do.”

“You don’t need to worry about what I have or don’t have to do.” Victor replied coldly. “I know every nook and corner of this town. I will gladly show you around.”

“Ok, thank you.” I nodded. He was probably just being polite, so there was no use speaking about it anymore.

We arrived at a secluded restaurant named Solace. It was totally decorated in shades of black and white, the walls covered with photographs of what the owner seemingly perceived as comfort: hands holding, two people hugging, a sunset, someone crying with joy.

“So, what do you think?” Victor asked, as we sat at a small table at the corner.

“I love it. The art is beautiful.” I said, still admiring the photographs on the walls.

“I knew you’d like it.” Victor picked up the menu. “The food is exquisite as well. You should try the duck, it’s delicious. Do you want to pick the wine, Miss “my-father-is-an-oenologist”?” Victor handed me the wine menu.

“You overestimate my knowledge of wine. Please do the honors.” I gave the menu back to Victor. He opened it, reading it carefully.

“So we’re both having the duck… How do you feel about… Beaujolais?”

“Fruity wine. I like the way you think.” I nodded. I didn’t have to be a connoisseur as my father to know Victor understood wine perfectly. I imagined how it would be like if Victor ever visited my parents’ house. He wouldn’t leave the cellar.

Our food arrived shortly, and Victor was absolutely right, it was delicious. The kind of food you’d expect from a 3  Michelin star restaurant, but in a small venue, where you could eat and just chill, listen to the music and enjoy the art, straight from work. Really my kind of place. Simple, elegant and with good food.

“How’s your meal?” Victor asked.

“Like you said: exquisite. And the wine matches it perfectly.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Victor said, filling my empty glass with more wine. “We need to toast.” He said, raising his glass. “To a job well done.”

“Cheers!” I smiled, as I raised my glass and clinked it with Victor’s. “You have to look me in the eyes while you drink, or you will get seven years of terrible sex.”

For the life of me, I don’t know why I said that. Maybe the wine was getting to me. Luckily, Victor found my words amusing, chuckling at my moronic statement.

“You believe in such a superstition?” He asked, holding his cup in the air, without drinking it.

“No, but… It’s seven years of terrible sex. Better safe than sorry.”

“Sure, nobody wants that. Let’s drink then.” He brought the cup to his lips and drank, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Your girlfriends will deeply appreciate it.” I nodded ceremoniously.

“What girlfriends?”

“Oh, please, a guy like you? Wealthy and good looking?” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“We do have a whole department for girlfriends at LFG.” He stated, his face dead serious. “They have to fill an application, stating how they can make my wildest dreams come true, and occasionally I drop by to beat them off with a stick.” He paused for my reaction, which was a laugh. “Where have you ever seen me with a woman? Even if I did have women lining up for me, they don’t interest me. I prefer quality over quantity.”

“You’re in search of the one and only? When you find her, please introduce her to me? I want to see the girl that meets your very high standards.” My heart panged. I ignored it completely.

“I don’t think I have to search much longer, actually.” He looked at me meaningfully. My heart swelled. My head immediately stumped it down. Stop reading into things, Andrea.

“Well, what are you doing here with me, then? Shouldn’t you be with her instead? Go get your piece of heaven, be happy.” I wanted to sound perky and positive, but my tone came out all wrong, my uneasiness about the subject clearly showing. Victor smiled.

“I have to be patient with her. If I come out too strong, I’ll scare her away. Besides, she’s terrible at understanding the subtle hints I give her, so I’ll have to wait for her to put all the pieces together before I can actually be blunt about it.” She has to be incredibly stupid if she’s missing the chance, I thought.

“I don’t know, if it’s this hard to begin with, if you have to use such caution, maybe it’s not worth it at all.” My words sounded more bitter than I intended.

“It’s supposed to be hard. The things that matter to you the most usually are. If you’re not willing to give it your all, put yourself on the spot and risk losing everything, it’s because that thing wasn’t as important as you thought.” Victor looked me in the eyes and rested his hand on the table. I wanted to hold it, but refrained. He quickly took his hand away, taking his glass to drink more wine. I did the same.

“Enough about me.” He stated. “What about you? Besides that Lewis guy, any love interest?”

I almost snorted the wine I was drinking.

“Ok, first: Levi is not a love interest. Not at all, not once, not ever.” I said, gesticulating furiously. “Second: I don’t have the time to visit the city, where would I find the time to date? No dates.”

“Does that mean you’re off the market, so to speak?”

“It means I don’t even have a clue where the market is. I’m still finding my ground here.”

“Good to know.” Victor smiled.

“What’s good to know? The fact that I’m pathetic? I’m glad you enjoy it, always a pleasure to serve.” I spoke ironically, pretending to be offended.

“It’s good to know that you’re working hard on finding your ground. You have all these plans, your doctorate, launching your career, I hope you see all of those through.” Victor replied earnestly.

Me too. It was so important for me to get my life back on track after so much I had been through. To find my own solace. I promised myself that when I got my diploma I would take a picture of it and give it to the owner of this restaurant.

I waited by the entrance as Victor paid the bill. I hadn’t noticed before the huge photograph near the door, hands lovingly holding a pregnant belly.

“There’s no solace like your mother’s womb.” I hear Victor speaking behind me. “Where you find nothing but warmth and love.”

I didn’t reply. I was afraid words would let out the tears I was hiding. I got out the door.

“Is everything ok?” He followed me, watching me closely.

“Oh, yeah, everything is fine.” I tried to downplay it, but he could hear in my voice how tight my throat was.

“Everything is not fine.” Victor insisted, softly putting his hand on my back. “Tell me the truth. What’s wrong?”

“Everything is fine!” I laughed. “I just got emotional with the photograph and I didn’t want you to make fun of me. I admit, maybe I had too much wine.” Victor’s eyes were deep into mine, scanning my expression for any sign of deceit. “Do you mind taking me home? It’s late, and we had a rough day…”

“Sure.” Victor promptly answered, as he snapped out of focus. “You’re right, we’re both tired, we should get some rest.”

He seemed to find my excuse satisfactory, dropping the subject completely. But I suspected he didn’t really believe me, because his hand never left my back as we walked to the car.

[elisaphoenix13]

Biological Warfare

Tony used to be known as a genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist. Now he was a genius, billionaire, philanthropist, married man, and father of four kids. That didn't even include Iron Man. Despite those titles, he still couldn't hold a candle to Stephen and what the sorcerer did on a daily basis. He used to be a world-renowned neurosurgeon, but now he was no longer that, but still so much more. Stephen was Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, a husband (wife), a mother, a housewife, doctor, and team matriarch. He did so much and was always doing something, that he started to run on fumes until he finally didn't get out of bed that morning.

Tony had tried to get Stephen to slow down to prevent his imminent collapse, but he was just as stubborn as Tony. Which is why he woke up that morning with a one hundred and three degree fever and the engineer practically ordered him to stay in bed. The boys were sent out to spend the day with friends which was surprisingly a chore when they found out that Stephen was sick. The cubs wanted to cuddle with Mama Bear to help comfort him, but Tony told them he needed some quiet time, and they left after a few concerned glances toward the master bedroom. Diana was easier. She was a little upset that Mom was sick but didn't argue with her father when he asked her to spend the day downstairs with Cassie. Valerie on the other hand, she would have to stay with him. Even though he had a meeting today.

So he asked Bucky and Wanda to come up to the family floor and make sure Stephen stayed in bed, and whisked the baby away to his meeting. When he walked into the building holding his infant daughter, Pepper gave him an incredulous look as Valerie drooled all over his designer sunglasses that she was holding and parts of his suit. Tony stopped caring about any of designer wear being ruined by bodily fluids ages ago after the first time Peter was turned into a baby. His kids were more important to him.

"Tony...couldn't you have left her with Mama Bear?" Pepper asked.

"Nope. Stephanie is sick, and he would only worry if he found out I left her with one of the team. I'm trying to make his day as relaxing as possible, and if that means taking my baby girl into a room full of tightwads, so be it." Tony explained.

Pepper sighed. "Fine. At least you're on time."

Tony got looks when he strolled into the room with a drooling baby and a diaper bag, but he just sat down with Valerie sitting in his lap and motioned for the big wigs to start. Once the other executives realized that the baby was quiet, most of them lost interest, and Tony was easily able to keep up with the subject of the meeting. Even while digging out the container of strawberry flavored cereal puffs and pouring some into his hand for Valerie to take from and eat at her leisure.

The meeting was a snoozefest as usual, but the upside had been at the end when Tony was able to shake the hand of today's executive that pissed him off...with the hand that Valerie drooled all over. The look of horror and disgust that crossed his face was the highlight of Tony's day, and he just gave the man a charming smile like he didn't just cover his hand in his daughter's spit. When he left the room with Pepper and they were far enough away, the engineer fully expected Pepper to lay into him for what he did.

But she burst into laughter instead.

"For once, I'm glad you did something to that guy, but I wasn't expecting you to use biological warfare!"

Tony smirked and wiped his hand and Valerie's face with a burping cloth that Pepper dug out of the diaper bag for him. "If I knew I could use my kids like this, I would have wanted them sooner. I'm still surprised that you're laughing instead of yelling at me."

Pepper snorted. "Nobody will believe him. Anyway, I know you have a sick husband to take care of--"

"Wife." Tony corrected and Pepper rolled her eyes as she pulled out some paperwork.

"I need you to look over and sign these by tonight."

"Oh, yay." Tony said dryly as he took the papers and Pepper poked Valerie's nose.

"You be good for Daddy and help take care of your Mommy when you get home."

Valerie hid her face in Tony's shoulder, and the engineer smiled softly as he made his way toward the entrance. His daughter was incredibly shy and while she hid from people she knew but didn't see very often (like Pepper and T'challa for example), actual strangers had her whimpering. She was only comfortable around those that lived in the tower, and outside her immediate family, Quill was number one in her book. He spoiled and protected her like he did with Diana so it was expected.

"Victor sent me a notice." Happy told Tony after the billionaire got into the car and strapped his daughter into the carseat. "Wanda had to confiscate Stephen's sling ring because he tried to portal somewhere."

"Of course he did." Tony sighed out. "You better get us home."

Happy nodded and drove back to the tower, and Tony carefully unbuckled Valerie from her carseat when he discovered that she had fallen asleep on the ride back. He shushed her when she whined as he picked her up, but she settled against his shoulder while Happy grabbed the paperwork and diaper bag and quietly shut the doors to the car. The head of security knew what to do after the snap and Tony had to raise Diana by himself. He learned how to close doors very quietly, helped Tony carry things so he could focus on the baby...but now things were a little different. Tony's right arm was covered in scars from the battle with Thanos, and it wasn't as strong as it used to be.

"Do you need me to carry her?" Happy whispered and Tony shook his head.

"I got her."

Whenever his arm did act up, Stephen was usually the one that soothed the pain with heat or ice depending on what felt better, or if the pain was bad enough...magic. One day, the sorcerer had been dimension hopping when Tony's arm started locking up and burning with pain, and after hearing Scott swear up and down about Quill's light helping with the thief's scars, the engineer went looking for him. The pain was bad enough that Tony willingly went looking for some kind of relief, and the moment he found Quill and the celestial touched his arm with the light in his hands, Tony nearly sobbed at the relief it brought him.

When Happy and Tony make it up to the family floor, the bodyguard set the bag and paperwork on the kitchen counter, and Tony gently handed his sleeping daughter over to Bucky. He wanted to check on Stephen, but didn't want to risk getting Valerie sick, and if she woke up, she wouldn't cry when she found herself in the soldier's arms instead.

"Tony, I gotta head downstairs now." Happy said and the engineer nodded as he climbed the stairs to the master bedroom.

He quietly opened the door and closed it behind him before approaching Stephen's side of the bed, and thankfully finds his spouse sleeping. Athena was of course keeping her sick master company by lying as close as possible to him with her head on Stephen's hip, and barely glanced up at the engineer when he entered. Tony slowly sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to place his hand against Stephen's forehead, still finding it hot to the touch, and grimaced when the doctor stirred. Blue eyes blinked open and Stephen turned his head to look up at him, and once he recognized who was touching him, he relaxed into Tony's hand with a pleased sigh.

"I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't. I was only resting." Stephen mumbled.

"I heard you tried to leave." Tony said and Stephen huffed.

"Your wardens are strict."

"For good reason. You of all people should know that you need to rest with a fever like yours." Tony looked over at the bottle of pills sitting on the nightstand. "Have you taken any of those?"

"Mmm." Stephen responded with an affirmative grunt. "Want my cubs."

"Sorry Mama Bear. No cubs until your fever breaks at least." Tony changed out of his suit and into some more casual clothes before shooing the wolf to the end of the bed and slipping into bed next to Stephen. "You'll have to suffer with me for now."

"Where's the baby?"

"In the living room with Wanda and Bucky taking a nap. She'll probably end up with Porcupine and Thumbelina by the end of the day though if our resident god has anything to say about it."

Stephen said nothing as he curled up to the warmth Tony's body provided, and that was enough of a clue to Tony that Stephen wasn't feeling well. He had enough energy to ask about Valerie before he was dozing off again, and Tony turned on the tv to a low volume after quietly asking Friday to ask the team to babysit Valerie for a while. After about an hour, he asked her for Stephen's temperature and his AI sent the results to his phone so she wouldn't disturb Stephen's sleep.

One hundred and two. Good. It was going down.

Stephen falls into a coughing fit shortly after, and when the sorcerer tightly grips Tony's shirt into his fist, the older man rubs soothing circles into his back until the sorcerer catches his breath again. The younger apologizes for practically coughing all over him, but Tony shushes him as he stands up and temporarily leaves the room. He comes back with a glass of cold water after checking on Valerie (who was in the process of being handed over to Quill as Tony predicted), and Stephen accepts the glass gratefully before draining half of it. The other half of the water disappeared with another dose of medicine.

"Better me than the kids." The doctor mumbled as he lay back down and Tony got back into bed.

"Hey, just worry about resting and getting better. The kids are fine. Besides, it's kind of pathetic to see a wolf pouting because you're sick." Tony teased and Stephen huffed.

"She kept me company while you were gone."

"Yes. I saw that." Tony nudged the wolf at the end of their bed with one of his feet and she grunted at him. "I hope she didn't use my pillows."

"I don't let her on the pillows." Stephen mumbled.

"Did Barnes or Maximoff feed you?"

Stephen shook his head and muttered something like he wasn't hungry, but Tony had other ideas. The sorcerer needed to eat something besides water and pills and it made Tony wonder how Stephen's fever was affecting him if he was ignoring all of his medical training. He had just gotten back into bed too.

Tony rolled out of bed with a sigh after kissing the clammy skin of Stephen's forehead, and he promised to come back with something light for his stomach. Stephen responded incoherently as Tony motioned for Athena to move back up next to the doctor, and she went happily. The moment Stephen slung an arm around his wolf for the comfort, Tony left the bedroom and walked down the stairs, stopping by the living room. To his surprise, Quill had stayed on the family floor and was currently playing with Valerie on the floor. Or more like sitting next to her and keeping one of his legs bent behind her as support while she played with her blocks. If the god was up here with her instead of taking her back down to his floor, Scott was either running errands or out of town.

Bucky and Wanda were lounging on the couches watching tv.

"You guys are fired." Tony told them. "I asked you to keep an eye on him because you can cook."

"He told us he wasn't hungry." Wanda defends.

"Yeah, well next time, make something anyway." Tony scolds and then walks away to the kitchen to heat up some canned soup.

Homemade soup would have tasted better but that wasn't one of Tony's strong points. He was better with the Italian foods, but he couldn't think of anything off the top of his head that would be easy on Stephen's stomach. He did ask Wanda to help make the sorcerer's tea the way he liked it, and then that was added to the soup and crackers that Tony took up to his sick spouse after asking Quill to feed Valerie.

Tony spent the rest of the day with Stephen after that, and once he confirmed that Scott was out of town for work, he asked the team to help babysit Valerie. Quill of course helped, but he mostly kept an eye on Diana since she stayed downstairs with Cassie while Stephen was sick. The boys stayed at their friends houses until Stephen's fever finally broke two days later, and Tony couldn't have kept the kids away even if he wanted to. Stephen always cuddled with them when they were sick and they wanted to return the favor. The sorcerer's recovery after that was relatively quick as soon as he got his cubs, and Athena remained a constant at his side. Tony was glad for it because as much as he wanted to stay and help Stephen twenty-four seven, he had other things that needed to be taken care of.

It was times like these when Tony truly appreciated the dysfunctional family they created. They would drop everything to help each other, especially if the one in need was Stephen. He was the reason this family existed after all.

[thewritenerd]

Victor and Adam: NaNoWriMo Day 07

‘What are you doing in here?’ he muttered to himself. ‘Victor?’ Victor jumped and spun round to see Adam standing in the doorway, his dark hair still dripping wet. ‘What are you doing in my room?’ Thinking quickly Victor reached into his pocket and pulled out the notebook. ‘You left this in the library.’ ‘Thanks.’ Adam said as he took it. Victor simply nodded. ‘Right I’ll be going then.’ Taking one last look at whatever was on the floor he stepped out of the room and made his way downstairs.

 Adam

Sitting around waiting for his dad’s friend to arrive was agony. And not just because of the clothes. Victor had insisted they dressed their best for their guest but Adam couldn’t help but feel he just wanted to show off. ‘Will you please sit still.’ Victor scolded. ‘And straighten up your clothes, they’re all crumpled from your slouching.’ Begrudgingly Adam tugged at the bottom of his waistcoat. They were sat in the formal living room, one of the few rooms with a view of the town and were all waiting for Dr Ramaker’s car to pull into the drive. He was late and Victor was getting agitated. An agitated Victor was not someone Adam wanted to be in the same room as as he tended to get a bit snappy. Trying to distract himself he turned to his book. It was Shreya’s poetry book which he’d already read twice. This time he was just going over his favourites. ‘You do know we have other books?’ Victor asked staring at the book in his hands. ‘Yeah. But I’m going to have to give this one back when I go back to school. So I want to try and memorise some of them.’ Victor raised his eyebrow but said nothing. Adam was just about to turn back to his book when he heard the sound of car approaching. ‘That’ll be him. Igor.’ He nodded to Igor who was stood by the door. ‘I’ll show him in.’ Igor said and left. Victor quickly turned to Adam as soon as he was gone. ‘You’d better be on your best behaviour. No better than your best. You’ve just come out of your last grounding, the next one will last even longer.’ Sighing Adam just nodded and closed the book. Sitting waiting for Victor’s friend to walk through the door was painful. How would he react when he saw Adam? Would he avoid going near him, would he be afraid. Or would he be like his friends or Miss Nakajima and just take it all in his stride. When the door began to open Adam held his breath. ‘Victor so wonderful of you to invite me for dinner.’ The man in the doorway cried. He stepped into the room a big grin on his face. Then he turned to look at Adam and his grin widened. ‘And you must be Adam. Stand up boy stand up I want a proper look at you.’ Not sure if he felt more confused or amused at Dr Ramaker’s enthusiasm Adam stood up. ‘It’s nice to meet you sir.’ Adam said holding out his hand like he’d been taught. Dr Ramaker took it and gave it a shake his eye widening at Adam’s grip. ‘My you are strong. I don’t suppose you do any lifting?’ Adam shook his head. ‘No sir. I’ve always been this way.’ Victor coughed and turned to Igor. ‘Is dinner almost ready?’ he asked. ‘Why yes sir. If you gentlemen would like to come to the dinning room I’ll pour your drinks and dinner should be served soon.’ Tucking the book into his waistcoat Adam followed behind the adults not taking his eyes off Dr Ramaker the whole time. Something about he seemed familiar but he couldn’t think what. It wasn’t until they were sat at the dinner table eating their starter, some kind of green soup, when I dawned on him. ‘Didn’t I see you in town once?’ he asked. ‘You were staring at me from this Inn.’ Dr Ramaker dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. ‘You did indeed,’ he finally replied. ‘I would have come over to speak to you. But I had just ordered some food and I didn’t want to miss it.’ Adam nodded thinking it made sense but he couldn’t help but notice the suspicious look Victor cast in their guest’s direction. After a few more minuets of silence, during which the soup had been finished and the roast pork had been brought out, Adam decided to try and get the conversation going again. ‘So Dr Ramaker what kind of Doctor are you?’ ‘I’m a scientist like your father. Though I’m afraid that’s where the similarities end.’ Victors lips thinned but he said nothing. ‘What about you?’ Dr Ramaker asked Adam. ‘What are you interested in?’ Adam thought for a moment. ‘I like inventing stuff.’ He eventually replied. Dr Ramaker nodded. ‘Like Edison.’ Adam shook his head. ‘Edison didn’t invent anything. He paid other people to invent things and put his name on them. He wasn’t an inventor he was a businessman.’ ‘Adam…’ Victor began to scold but Dr Ramaker cut in. ‘No no let him speak. I like a youth with a healthy appetite for debate. So who would you call a real inventor?’ ‘Tesla, Tim Berners-Lee, Maria Beasely.’ ‘I’ve never heard of the last one?’ ‘She invented the life raft back in the 1800s.’ Dr Ramaker nodded. ‘So you know your stuff then. Ever invented something yourself?’ ‘Yes actually.’ Adam said excited to tell someone about his idea. ‘I’m building a timed watering system for indoor plants. It’s so Igor doesn’t have to go around watering them every day.’ He then went on to explain how he’d built his own mini sprinkler system and how he’d connected it to an old clock he’d taken apart, and how you could change how often the sprinklers started up and at what times by moving around the clock hands and some paper clips. Dr Ramaker listened intently nodding and only speaking to ask the occasional question. Victor didn’t say a word but from how slowly he was eating Adam could tell he was listening. ‘Well you definitely have an intelligent son Victor.’ Dr Ramaker praised when Adam was finished. Adam beamed at the doctor who smiled back. ‘I certainly can’t disagree with that.’ Victor finally replied. Then the conversation turned to Victor and Dr Ramaker’s school days so Adam just sat quietly listening to them. Once dinner was over, Adam was sent away so the grown ups could talk, so he decided to head up to his room. He pulled off his waistcoat and spent the next couple of hours watching videos before being interrupted by a knock on the door. ‘Yes?’ he said as Igor’s head popped round the door. ‘Your father wants you to come down and say farewell to our guest.’ ‘Okay I’ll be down in a sec.’ When he got to the front door Victor raised an eyebrow at his crumpled shirt but said nothing. Adam went to wave at Dr Ramaker but he called him over. ‘Come here and let me shake your hand. It’s only polite.’ Not sure if he meant it was only polite for him to shake Adam’s hand, or if it was only polite for Adam to shake his hand Adam made his way over. ‘Oh and one more thing. I’m wondering how would you feel about taking on a little project for me? He lowered his voice. It’s my father you see. Getting on a bit in years, though he’s too proud to admit it. Anyway he can’t lift things like he used to and my mother, as lovely as she is, is a whisp of a woman. I was wondering if you could try inventing me something that could lift heavy objects.’ Adam thought for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he could make something like that. But the challenge was too tempting to not at least attempt it. He nodded. ‘I can do that.’ Dr Ramaker’s face looked as if it would split in two he was grinning so wide. ‘Wonderful. Maybe we could meet at the Inn next Saturday? Just to go over any first ideas and any details.’ Adam felt his enthusiasm drop. ‘Well uh…’ ‘Or we could meet somewhere else. I hear the woods round here have some good walking paths?’ Adam nodded. ‘Yeah I can do that.’ ‘Great. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the hill next Saturday. How does 10 o’clock sound?’ ‘Fine.’ With their arrangement made Dr Ramaker climbed into his car and Adam gave him a last wave goodbye before heading back to the castle. ‘What were you two talking about?’ Victor asked eyeing him suspiciously. ‘What? Oh he just wanted to ask me about got places to go for a walk. I said the woods had lots of nice paths.’ ‘Walking huh? Didn’t know he was into that stuff?’ Not wanting to be questioned anymore Adam simply slipped past him and headed back to his room.

Victor

Victor had spent the last few days feeling like he’d forgotten something. But no matter how hard he thought it wouldn’t come to him. ‘Couldn’t be that important.’ He told himself, but still that niggling feeling remained. It wasn’t until he was sat eating breakfast and Igor asked when he planned on buying his father’s birthday present that he remembered. ‘Fuck.’ He hissed. That was what he’d forgotten. Igor had booked time off to visit his daughter the same weekend Victor was supposed to go to his parents. Which of course meant there was no one around to watch Adam. ‘What’s wrong?’ Adam asked. Victor shook his head. ‘Nothing. I just remembered I’ve forgotten to tell my mother I’d be bringing you to my father’s birthday party.’ He took a gulp of coffee. ‘I’ll have to ring her as soon as I’m finished here.’ Adam looked thoughtful. ‘I suppose they’re technically my grandparents. So do I call them granma and grandpa? Or do I call them by their names?’ ‘I think we’ll leave that up to them.’

[malereader-inserts]

You’d Be Surprised

Fandom: Gotham Pairing: Oswald Cobblepot x Male!Reader Summary: 5 times you comforted Oswald and 1 time Oswald comforted you. Alternatively, how oblivious Oswald was to your love for him until he realised he loves you too. Word Count: 4,592 (WOW THIS IS LONG) A/n: Tbh I love 5+1 scenarios, please give more (though they will be longer and will take time to come out)

1.

His mother, his heart and soul.

One of the many reasons why he was somewhat sane. Now, his mother was dead because of the Galavans. Oswald was angry, upset and he wanted revenge. Not only he lost his mother, but he also lost Butch too - clearing the man of Victor’s brainwash.

Oswald had expected to be alone in his manor, but when he heard footsteps behind him. He was too exhausted to at least find a weapon, his shoulders relaxed when he had seen you in the doorway, half awake and your hair dishevelled.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” Oswald asked as he stares at you.

“I live here, Os, you let me live here with you.”

That was right, you were his friend - perhaps his only friend. A man who wasn’t annoying or dumb, you weren’t afraid to challenge him but offer advice to him, you would have been his right-hand man if not for Butch. You have always been loyal to him, you were the first person he befriended when he was with Fish Mooney, you had already had ranked up.

In fact, he found you terrifying when she had introduced you to him. You were wielding a fucking gun in your hand and had no emotions, but somehow, when Oswald would be bullied, you were always there to defend him. You were just a guy who enjoyed doing the dirty work, you like getting your hands dirty.

You even taught him how to shoot multiple different guns, just in case, he was forever thankful. 

“Right, you can go back to bed-”

“Hmh,” You hummed as you walked past him, moving to his dining room as he follows you.

He lets out a sigh, he should really get used to your dismissive behaviour yet he didn’t, you had the tendency to not listen or ignore whatever has been told. Whilst you may not follow all orders, Oswald had found that you only do that when you have his best interest at heart.

Most of the time, Oswald had found himself rising above due to your disobeying.

He watches you pull out two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine. You placed the essentials on the table, patting the back on his chair as if to beckoned him to sit. 

Oswald squints in disbelief, he has known you not to be a caring person. You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you light up the fireplace behind his seat. Oswald limps his way to his seat, he leans on one side of the chair, running his hand through his fine hair. He noticed that you pour him a glass of wine, you did the same for yourself.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m your friend?” You stare at him blankly before sitting down on the side he was leaning against, “And you need someone.”

“As if you’d really be willing to do that for me,” Oswald scoffs as he swirls his wine, noticing how you haven’t choked up on your own drink - indicating you hadn’t betrayed him too and poisoned the drink.

“You’d be surprised.”

Oswald locks eyes with you as you lean against the table, Oswald looks down at the table, an amuse exhalation escapes him as he looks up to you. His lips tightening into a thin line.

“Tabitha Galavan killed my mother,” Oswald explains, you open your mouth before shutting them again, Oswald was appreciative for that, “Butch betrayed me, he works for them now!”

You nodded, there was silence as you tapped against the wooden table, “Tell me about her, your mother - she seems like a lovely woman, probably extraordinary.”

Oswald was clearing taken aback, most of his cronies would nod silently allowing Oswald to rant about this whole ordeal but you stopped him from ranting and diverting the topic at hand.

“I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

“Not like that ever stopped you,” You commented dryly, sipping your wine, “Have I ever told you I hate wine?”

Oswald chuckles, it was soft and unexpected, you had amused him. Oswald stares at you, leaning back in his seat before taking a sip of his wine before telling tales of his mother. You listened, but he knew you were paying attention with you little inputs, joking with him. Harmless story telling.

However, Oswald misses how your eyes shine just a bit when you see him rant about his mother, being so passionate about loving his mother. That night he leaves for bed feeling better, he had someone to confide to.

He sees you stop at your bedroom door, you stare at him - to him you had no emotional feeling.

“We’ll avenge your mother, Oswald, whatever you want.”

Oswald smiles, genuinely smiles, he trusts your words. You disappear into your room, Oswald feels small gratitude to you, he feels just a small part of peace. At least his mother’s memory will still be alive as he told you many tales about her.

He thinks it’s a one-time thing because the next day you had pretended nothing had happened.

Oswald tries not to get attached, you’re his only friend.

2.

You knocked on the door, you stare at this new building that Oswald had obtained. The door widens open and you see a small man with a happy smile.

“(Y/n)!” Oswald greets you before his smile faltering for a moment, “What happened to you?”

You shift the balance from toes to the balls of your heel, “Butch and Tabitha became the new rulers of the criminal underground, I was your friend - things happened.”

Oswald noticed a distinctive scar around your neck, as most as if you were slashed in the neck, your lip permanently scarred with two jagged lines across the bottom right, it was long as it scars down to the chin. Oswald clenches his jaw as he shakes his hands in front of you, dismissing it to the side.

“Nice place, by the way,” You complimented as Oswald side steps and allows you in.

“You can stay, if you want, there is enough room - it’ll be like old times.” Oswald offers, he wrings his hands watching you admire the living area, “It was my father’s.”

You spin in your heel, perching yourself on the armrest of the sofa, looking at the intricate design of the old mansion, “Oh, you found your father?”

“Yeah,” Oswald nods, there was a smirk on his lips as you raised an eyebrow at his pause of silence, “He was murdered by my stepfamily, so I took revenge.”

“Classy,” You hummed, nodding, “Want to talk about it?”

Oswald scoffs, “As if you’d really be willing to do that for me.”

You dramatically snap your head to him with a pointed look, almost as if you were challenging him, “You’d be surprised.”

Oswald bits his lips and slowly nods, gathering glasses for alcohol. His hands pick up a bottle of red wine, as he was about to move back to the living area, he stops and looks over his shoulder.

He sees you, fully seated on the sofa, your left arm resting against the armrest, the fire blazing and it’s lighting marking half your face. He turns back and placed back the wine and exchange it for whiskey. Exchanging the glasses and he makes his way to you. 

He sits on your right, placing the half empty bottle of whiskey onto the table. He sees you smirk in the corner of his eye as he pours you a glass and himself one. You grab yours as he sighs after taking a sip. You look at him, waiting.

“How well did Arkham treat you?” You wondered out loud, as Oswald looks at you, “I heard some stuff from Butch about you, you don’t seem different.”

“No,” Oswald confirms, “I was for a bit, but then I found that my stepfamily tried to get rid of me by getting rid of my dad.”

“Hm,” You nodded, Oswald smiles before he frowns, “Go on, for old time sake, enlighten me of your situation.” 

Oswald lets go, he admits to everything to you from his being sent to Arkham and returning. You listen, he finds you to be a good listener. By the end of the tale, he finds the bottle of whiskey empty. 

“I have no one,” Oswald laments, watching you firmly place the glass on the coffee table.

You lean back, your right foot rests against the edge of the table. You roll your head back on the sofa as you gaze at Oswald.

“That’s not true,” You benevolently heartened him, “You have me.”

“I had you before.”

He looks at you and sees a fond smile on your face, he misses the crinkles around your eyes and the look admiration for him goes unnoticed, “Yeah, and you still got me.”

You pat him on the leg before standing up, stretching your legs and your back. Your arms above your head, Oswald observes you, he feels safe in your presence.

“Where are you going?”

“Claiming a room,” You mumbled, “Like you said, it’ll be like old times.”

Just as you were about to leave him, alone with his thoughts you turn to look at him. You figured much that he needed some space. 

“Oh, and Os, I made friends around Gotham. People that could help you reclaim Gotham as yours,” You half smile at him, tilting your head, “Just say the word.”

You disappear into the large home. Oswald finds a change in your attitude, he doesn’t know what it was, he couldn’t place a finger on what it was. You were a man who had no care for his emotion, you were cold and dismissive.

But now, you weren’t afraid to care for him openly, though you haven’t told a thing about anything personal - it was different to him. You were caring, gentle and human.

He leans further down into his sofa, at least he still has a friend.

A friend who gaze at him with pining eyes, Oswald was just too blind to see.

3.

“You know, Ivy, he’ll be grumpy when he wakes up.”

That was the first thing Oswald hears, he was sure he was dead and unless angels sound like his only friend, he shouldn’t be alive. Oswald blinks awake with his blanket covering his eyes.

You stood nearby, your arms crossed over your chest as you watch your friend spray water on her plants. You had met her when Oswald was in Arkham, you befriended her when she was a child and was promptly surprise when you see her as a young adult. 

You hear a small gasp under from the covers as Ivy looks at you and sits on the bed, “Well, look who’s alive.”

Oswald finally shoots up as you snort a little laughter as you turn your back to Oswald and Ivy, looking in disgust of her plants, you hated nature.

“Who are you?”

“Ivy Pepper, you stupid,” Ivy dryly commented as Oswald’s continues to breathe heavily.

He looks around as sees you, he is immediately relaxed with someone else he knows is around, “We know each other?”

“I pulled you out of the river,” Ivy explains as Oswald sighs, looking down slightly, “I’ve been nursing you for weeks, with the company of (Y/n), so boring. You sleep a lot.”

“That’s what people do when they’re recovering Ivy,” You turn when you had heard your name, “Been worrying about you Oswald.”

He’s never had someone worry about him that wasn’t family, Oswald blinks rapidly and winces in pain as he pales as Ivy stares at you whilst you shrug before looking at Penguin.

“You look strange like you’re going to puke. Are you okay?”

He looks up and forms a smile, “I just remembered, there’s someone I need to kill.”

Ivy looks at you, you shrugged again, “I’m gonna get us lunch.”

Ivy hops up to her feet and skipping out the room as you watch her leave, your eyes cast themselves to Oswald. 

“Ed’s teamed up with Butch and co,” You spoke, “Though, you probably know that what you probably aren’t aware is that Barabra Kean is now taken over as leader.”

“What!” Oswald exclaims as you unfold your arms and roosting on his bed.

“Are you okay?” You asked, your eyes softening, “I’m being honest that I was concern about you.”

Oswald stares at you, nictitating, he was confused. He wondered why you were still by his side, why you were loyal was a strange concept to him. And yet, here you were sitting in front of him with a soft look and a raised eyebrow of concern.

“Ivy called me, she wasn’t the best with actually stitching people up, her plants were just to speed up your healing. I did the manual labour.”

“You stitched me up?” Oswald asked in incredulity, “Why? As if you’d really be willing to do that for me.”

You snorted, thinking how that phrase was somewhat becoming yours and his thing, “You’d be surprised.”

Oswald blinks, he heard that response before chuckling when he looks at your amused facial expression.

“Wrapped you up too, probably need to change that later, I can help,” You responded, before tilting your head, “You never answered my question before, are you okay?”

“I’m well,”

You nodded as you tap him on the knee, “I’ll see what Ivy’s up to, try not to do anything stupid.”

It was a light tease, normally Ozwald would get offended but you had left the room before he could say anything, left to his own thoughts. You see Ivy in the kitchen, cooking as you come to sit on the counter.

“So, when are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?” You asked, eating some bread, giving her a trenchant look.

Whilst Oswald was passed out for the few weeks, Ivy had questioned you about your relationship with Oswald, you had blurted out that you loved him. It was stupid that you were pining over a man who couldn’t give you a second glance.

“You know what, you dork,” She elucidated, “From your stories, you’ve changed because you love him. You became an emotionless cold-hearted killer to a person who wants love.”

“Perhaps I don’t deserve it,” 

“Everyone deserves someone.”

“Not me.”

4.

You and Ivy watch silently as you watch Oswald plant soil over Gabe’s murdered body. You had watched in amusement when you watch Oswald butcher Gabe to death.

“Okay, I admit it, I might have lost my temper here a little bit,” Oswald continues to spill soil over the dead body, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Ivy shrugs, nudging you.

“At least you still have it in you,” You commented as Ivy shakes her head at your comment, but gave her a look when Oswald lets out a small chuckle.

“I don’t know why I let him get to me.” Oswald looks down at his working, “Sticks and stones, right? Hm?”

“Words always hurt me more than sticks and stones,” Ivy affirmed.

Oswald turns around as looks at the pair of you, “Yeah me too.”

“So, does this mean you’re giving up your plan for revenge?” Ivy asked, nervously, not wanting to get on the wrong side of Oswald.

“I can’t take on Nygma and Barabra and the rest of them by myself.”

“Who said anything about taking them on by yourself?” Ivy started to get excited as she takes a step forward to Oswald as she backhands your chest to make you feel her excitement too, “Selina told me some pretty crazy stories about people she met down at Indian Hill.”

“Hugo Stange creations,” You murmured before a smile appeared on your face.

“Said you want to build an army right?” Ivy asked as you and she shared a look of mischief before gazing at Oswald, “Well, what about an army of freaks?”

“What kinds of freaks?”

After plotting, Ivy goes to bed, leaving you and Oswald. You hummed as you disappear into the kitchen and come back holding a bottle of wine. 

“I couldn’t find glasses that were clean,” You announced as you twisted the cap off, taking a swing before offering some to him.

“Why are you still awake, go rest up,” Oswald snaps as you blink slowly, unphased by his anger. He sighs, rubbing his forehead, “What if I want to be alone?”

“You’re straining yourself,” 

There you were again, ignoring his words as you take the shovel out of his hand and exchanging it for the bottle of wine. He paused for a moment, taking in what had occurred before sidestepping for you to continue what he started. He grabs a chair and sits down, watching you silently.

“They don’t deserve you,” You hummed, rolling your sleeves up and continues to spill soil onto the dead bodies, “Nygma and the rest, they don’t deserve you.”

Oswald scoffs, you look over your shoulder as he offers a bit of wine. Then he knits his eyebrows together, “You hate wine!”

“I’m aware,” You nodded, waving him off.

“I don’t understand,” Oswald spews out, “I made Ed, I made him to whatever he is and yet-”

“You always get your revenge Oswald, I know you do,” You reassures as you lean against the shovel, “You’re a very patient guy, and I’ll be there to see it.”

“As if you’d really be willing to do that for me.”

You chuckle to yourself, “You’d be surprised,” You look at Oswald, who was too drunk to even realise what you had responded, “I’m loyal to you Os, you should know that - I’ve been by your side since we met.”

You watch him drunkenly stand up and give you a tight hug, gripping your tightly, “You’re a moron for staying.”

He stumbles his way to a bed so he can pass out, you let out a sigh. You were fucked up by him, you knew it, he had you wrapped around his little fingers.

“A moron who’s in love with you.” You shove the shovel into the dirt, “God you’re a pathetic man.”

5.

“Having doubts?”

You watched the man pace back and forth. Ivy, Victor and Bridget had disappeared into claiming their rooms in the mansion. You had returned from your job, involved arguing with Jim and Harvey.

“Still, why are you even up?” You wondered, slipping out of your gloves and shrugging off your jacket, “It’s two in the morning, what’s got you worrying?”

You hadn’t noticed that he stopped pacing as he follows you into the kitchen where you started to make yourself food. You hadn’t noticed how he was in his pyjamas.

“I-” You turn around and stare at him, for once in a long time he felt he could confide in you, “I had a bad dream, you were in it and I just wanted to see if you were okay but you hadn’t come home yet. So, I panicked.”

You blankly look at him before sharply inhaling, he misses how you were flushed by his words, you thanked that it was poorly lit in the kitchen or you would look like an idiot pining for his friend. You were flattered as you offer Oswald a tight smile.

“Well, I’m alive,”

“I’m aware,” Oswald nods, he looks over his shoulder, “I- I better get to bed.”

“Wait,” You hummed, “Stay, you’re obviously...” You sigh not knowing what was the appropriate words to describe the situation, “I’ll make some food and you can talk to me about it?”

Oswald observes you for a moment, “No it’s stupid, you wouldn’t care at all, I mean as if you’d really be willing to do that for me, listen to me being scared about a nightmare.”

“You’d be surprised,” You uttered, you kept your eyes down to the sandwich you were making as Oswald opens his mouth before shutting it again.

He sits down as he softly rants to you, by the end of the night you were hugging him tightly, reassuring that you were never going to leave him. You were always going to be loyal to him, he thanks you for your words.

He just doesn’t understand how much you meant it.

+1

Oswald was racing back home.

Whilst he had Nygma finally contained, both stopped and contained in a block of ice. He had heard that you were fatally wounded during a gun down, specifically the battle of guns against Barabra, Tabitha and Butch.

You were dragged by Harvey and Jim to get Tetch back in their hold, saying they needed your gun skills - or in better words, extra hands. You look at Oswald, who stands annoyed to be facing Ed. He spares you no glance as he runs away from the shooting, leaving you to defend Jim, Tetch and Harvey.

Ivy had told him, that you had rung her and you sounded beat.

Oswald was freaking out, stepping on the gas as Ivy stays on the phone with you, she’s freaking out too but not as much as Oswald was.

You were his only friend and now, you were on the phone sounding so exhausted.

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?”

“He hates the hospital,” Oswald replies almost instantly, he wonders how he knew that.

Then, he wondered why he was racing home. If it was anyone else, he couldn’t care less but you were a different story. He thinks back previous conversations and his heart started to increase. He grips tighter against the wheel, you love him.

And he was blinded by his own emotions to noticed.

Love is about sacrifice, it’s about putting someone else’s needs and happiness before your own.

Ed’s word had echoed in his head, you were willing to do anything for him and only now he realises. You gave up your time to comfort him the past months, years. You were willing to give your neck if it means to stay by Oswald’s side and stay loyal to him. 

He realises how much he loves you, how he was able to confide in you, how he was able to stay up and drink alcohol until the sunrises. He had no doubts that you would leave him, he felt lonely when you were out doing jobs. You changed for him, in order to love him.

He stored information about you without realising, he knew you hated hospitals, nature, and especially wine. He knows your favourite colour and why, he knows your favourite food, your favourite type of music and the type of gun you preferred to use.

Why love Ed when he had you?

Slamming against the breaks as he hurriedly turns off the engine and race inside his home. He needed to find you, he needs you. 

“(Y/n)?!” He shouts but hears no responds as Ivy comes up behind him, “Upstairs, quick bring all your plants into his room.”

Oswald limps quickly to your room, finds you staining your sheets as your hands slip, the phone in hand out onto the floor. Oswald panics, before grabbing the med kit, he knows there was a doctor coming up, his personal doctor but he couldn’t risk you dying on him.

“We’re gonna get you patched up, I promise! You’ll be good as new…”

There was blood on his hands, he remembers how the doctor came into the room and instructed Oswald to do what was told. You were slipping in and out of consciousness as you breathe heavily, Oswald tries not to freak out as Ivy comes to aid him and the doctor. It was all too quick for him as the doctor informs Oswald that you will be fine, at least he sees no sign of infection. 

You should be back to your normal self within three weeks. Ivy stares at Oswald who perches on your bed, his hands were shaking, wanting to lean his hand against yours as you sleep soundly. The doctor makes his own exit as Ivy sits next to Oswald, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You’d be an idiot not to tell him,” Ivy says, softly and Oswald doesn’t snap at her, he feels tears brimming his eyes as he sharply inhales and exhales, “It’s not your fault, you know, he would have gone and killed Nygma just for you.”

“Exactly, that’s the problem, he would do something so idiotic just for me.”

“Because he loves you, Oswald, love is about giving things up for that person. The question is, are you willing to do the same for him?”

Ivy hands him a wet cloth for his bloody hand, stained with your blood, he hopes he never has to see your blood again. Ivy leaves him be, Oswald doesn’t know how long he stays in your room, he moves around to sit against the headboard of your double bed. He thinks and he can’t stop.

He hears you groan before your eyes flutter open. Oswald jumps and moves to your line of sight.

“You’re awake, you’re okay,” It was mostly to reassure himself.

“Oswald?” You slurred, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Oswald smiles, chuckles even a bit, you’re cute, “What- Where?”

You were about to sit up until Oswald pushes you back down, “No, no, no you got shot at pretty nastily and well, I can’t risk you hurting yourself more. Just tell me what you need, I’ll do it.”

“As if you’d really be willing to do that for me,” You mumble.

Oswald stares at you, he remembers those exact words - he was the one who utters those cynical thinking, he always criticises you and your intentions, but you were always there to surprise him. You were staying with him for the long run, you comforted him and reassured him. He was so alone but he always had you.

“You’d be surprised.”

You stare into his eyes, for once, they were soft and no blaze of fury, no anger behind his beautiful eyes. You remember those words that had escaped Oswald’s lips - you always responded like that, you were taken aback, oh how the tables have turned.

“I have been a terrible friend, I know, but I don’t want to think about what I’d be without you,” Oswald confesses, he looks down at his nervous hands which fiddle, “What I feel for you terrifies me, but, you make me feel something I haven’t felt in a really long time and I like that feeling.”

Oswald looks at you, he doesn’t know if you had been ignoring his confession before you slowly blinked, before your fingers reach to stop his fiddling before intwining one hand with yours.

“You’d do anything?”

“Anything,” Oswald nods, his voice was soft.

“Then stay,” Oswald meets your eyes, your chest heaves heavily, “Please, for now.”

Oswald nods quickly, as he lies next to you, he feels awkward before you slowly turn to shift to your side and lean your head against his shoulder. Oswald lets out a shaky breath before his arm wraps around your shoulder, instinctively, out of protection. He meets your eyes one again.

“I’m counting your freckles, I haven’t been this up close to you.”

Oswald lets out an amused huff, his grip tightening around you, he found the confidence to kiss your forehead and it felt right, it felt perfect. He was feeling like everything was finally falling into place.

“I love you (Y/n).”

“I love you too, Oswald.”

You were both full of surprises, you both guess that’s why you love each other so much.

[dragalia-lost-lore]

Character Summary: Victor, Vengeful Commander

Connected adventurer stories: Noelle

“The commander of a mercenary band called the Shadewolves who were betrayed and annihilated by the Empire. This left him a shell of a man who gave up everything in the name of revenge. Where he goes, dark rumors follow.”

Adventurer Stories

Episode 1

Euden, Ranzal and Luca begin to retreat when they become outnumbered by Imperial troops. A mysterious voice implores them to do so quickly; while unfamiliar with this person, they heed his advice and fall back with haste. The individual then unleashes multiple log traps against the soldiers. Using the division to their advantage, Euden and crew begin their counterattack with the unknown man lending his aid. The Imperials then retreat from the battle.

Euden offers his thanks to the man, but the man says there’s no need, revealing he knows of the prince in the process. Ranzal recognizes the man as Victor, a mercenary he had once worked with. Victor remarks that he hasn’t seen Ranzal since their hire by Baron Djorden, calling him by an old nickname, “The Arc in the Storm.” Ranzal uses this as an opportunity to confirm a rumor that the Shadewolves, Victor’s mercenary band, had been annihilated by the Empire and that their leader had embarked on a blind quest for revenge. Victor tells Ranzal not to fall victim to rumor and explains that as long as he is alive, the Shadewolves live on, and he will carry out their fight by all means.

As they’re speaking, a wounded Imperial soldier attempts to stand. Victor tells the others to wait a moment while he goes to kill him, the soldier begging for mercy. Victor blames the soldier for the deaths of his comrades even though this one had never come into contact with him before; to him, simply being associated with the Empire is instant guilt. Euden stops Victor to his confusion. He tells him that he will not take the life of a man ready and willing to surrender. Victor argues that the soldier came with the purpose to kill Euden, but the prince lets the soldier go regardless. He remarks what he’s heard of the prince’s nature is true, and he requests Euden to hire him. Euden accepts under the condition that Victor will never hurt a helpless enemy, Ranzal adding that if the enemy were faking it, they’d figure it out as a team. Victor accepts these terms while still harboring his desire for revenge.

Episode 2

Elisanne expresses her concern to Euden of the rumors she’s heard of Victor’s actions. Ranzal, just joining the conversation, adds that he’s heard some troubling things as well, from him torching an entire village to poisoning an entire village’s water supply for the sake of killing a few imperials. Ranzal and Euden are doubtful these are true after observing Victor’s strong morals; however, Elisanne points out that a pursuing revenge could change anyone. Meanwhile, in a nearby village, Victor knocks on the door of a house, asking for the parents of someone by the name of Tomas, a deceased member of the Shadewolves. The old man confirms that he is his father; he explains that he already knows what Victor has come to tell him: that Tomas is dead. Victor offers his condolences, but the father refuses his apology; he then tries to give the family financial compensation. Tomas’ mother shouts at him, calling him a monster for killing her son, the family attempting to console her. The old man shoos Victor off while telling him to treat his gift of continued life with more care in the future. The commander says the only reason he has left for living is revenge. The old man, now taking care of Tomas’ son, tells Victor that his son will never end up like him and that he must never visit them again. Victor understands and leaves. Euden, Elisanne, and Ranzal come to the conclusion that Victor is not the monster they’ve heard in the rumors after spying on this encounter. Elisanne becomes more sympathetic of the commander’s motivations when realizing his love for his fallen comrades, but the prince points out that it doesn’t make Victor’s actions right. 

Episode 3

 A messenger by the name of Noelle meets Victor in the night to give him new orders from an unknown source. His orders are to capture the prince and bring him back home; Noelle writes down additional orders adding that the general is pleased with Victor’s dedication to his mission. She reveals that Victor working alongside the prince is just what their superiors want and that he must return home with the captured prince, seeming nervous all the while. Victor jokes that he thought he’d been forgotten. Noelle adds one more order: if the prince resists, Victor should kill him instead. They agree that his death would cause turmoil in Alberia just as their superiors want, but Victor tears up his orders. The messenger seems surprised but doesn’t protest; the commander tells her to go home immediately. However, Ranzal and the others show themselves, having been eavesdropping on the two the entire time.

Noelle attempts to defend Victor, but he tells her to stand back and that remaining peaceful is the best course of action. The commander explains that he is a military general working directly under the crown for a poor country in northern Grastaea. Their plan was to incite chaos in Alberia in order to mount an invasion, Victor being one of many spies tasked with this objective; his particular directive is to discover the secrets of dragonblood in the Alberian royal family. Elisanne says they’ve heard enough, but Euden stops her to let Victor finish. Victor’s way of executing these orders was to demonstrate his strength under the guise of a mercenary, forming a company along the way. However, when the Empire ambushed and slaughtered his comrades, Victor realized just how irreplaceable they had become to him all too late. Ranzal asks if that was the cause for Victor’s desire for vengeance, but Victor says the true reason was that he didn’t want to admit responsibility for their deaths. Euden assures the commander that their fates were the Empire’s fault, but Victor credits it to his foolishness as a leader: that his ambitions overpowered his common sense. He no longer cares about his homeland or orders; all that matters to him now is to atone for his sins. 

Victor tells Euden he will accept whatever punishment as long as Noelle is let go, but the prince says that he doesn’t want to kill him. He chooses to believe in Victor on the basis of his changed personality and passion, adding that Victor would have no need to protect Euden as much as he’s done if his goal truly were to find the out secrets of his dragonblood. The commander is taken aback by the prince’s observations and tells him that he then must understand his grudge. Euden does not understand the full extent of Victor’s turmoil, but he knows that he has no malicious intent, thus he puts his trust in him. Victor thinks to himself that he no longer has an interest in Euden’s dragon blood but what he will accomplish in the future.

Episode 4

Ranzal runs to Victor distressed about the increasing intensity of the rumors surrounding him. He assures Ranzal that he and his men all followed a strict code to never harm civilians. Ranzal, having parsed the information he’s gathered from various people, comes to the conclusion that there is in fact 2 people being confused for the same person: a man matching the description of Victor, and another with a cloak and a similar sword. Victor puts the pieces together and is shocked to realize that the hooded figure is a surviving member of the Shadewolves. He explains this person is most likely Robelle, a fellow spy who was Victor’s adjutant in the company. Robelle had pretended to be Victor to buy his commander time for escape, switching swords to make the act more convincing. The sword Victor holds now is a memento of Robelle, his once-thought fallen comrade. Victor then requests the aid of Euden to track him down.

They determine his most likely location is a mountainous region where Imperial soldiers have halted their progress due to a rockslide. Euden and crew arrive and, as expected, they find the hooded figure in the act of slaughtering a civilian who helped direct the imperial troops. Victor approaches him and tells him to show his face. Robelle is eager to do so, seemingly overjoyed that Victor is okay. During the ambush on the Shadewolves, Robelle had tumbled down a cliffside and woke up in a riverbank. He hopes Victor’s presence means that their company is still alive, but the commander confirms that they indeed all died. Robelle is disappointed but not surprised, at the very least glad they all succeeded in protecting Victor. He has devoted himself to avenging the Shadewolves, but Victor discredits his efforts because of how many innocent people Robelle has killed. His every action has defied to code of integrity their company upheld. Robelle becomes increasingly more upset, claiming that his lack of raw strength makes his underhanded tactics the only viable option for punishing the Empire. He feels there’s no point following the moral principles of those who are dead.

However, Victor rebukes his claim, stating that the Shadewolves will always be alive as long as he still stands. Robelle has turned on all that the Shadewolves stood for, and thus, the commander tells him that he is no longer considered a member. This enrages Robelle; despite all his efforts, Victor denounces his actions, saying he has shamed the names of them all. The commander draws his sword and tells Robelle to do so as well. Victor tells him he deserves a warrior’s death and kills Robelle where he stands.

It begins to rain on the mountainside. Victor tells Euden he needs a moment and continues to stand in the rain.

Episode 5

Victor contemplates his existence as the single remaining member of his company. Noelle arrives once more with yet another order from their superiors, urging Victor to read it quickly. It’s an order to return home to their country where Victor will have an available combat post waiting for him. The messenger seems barely able to contain her excitement at the prospect, but Victor tears up this order as well. Noelle no longer knows how to respond. He explains that he’s abandoned everything in pursuit of hopeless vengeance; despite his pain, he feels there is yet something waiting for him in this life. Giving his sword to Noelle, he tells her to bring it back home and say he died avenging his people, adding that she can never return to him. Victor says he intends to live freely from now on and she should as well. As Victor leaves, Noelle decides that she will come back regardless. Her duty is to connect others, and she fully intends continue doing so.

Later, Victor enters Euden’s room and the prince apologizes for the commander’s troubles. Victor thanks the prince for helping him bury Robelle. When Euden asks how he’s doing, he admits he still needs time to process everything. He comes to understand the difference between him and Robelle, as in that Victor lacked the resolve to carry his revenge through. The commander and prince agree Robelle has done horrible things, but Victor points out that that is how he’d end up were he to continue down the path of hatred. It hardens the commander’s resolve to become nothing like him. In the end, Victor gives up on revenge. Euden inquires what his plans for the future are. The commander explains that he’ll take the time to truly think whilst visiting the homes and lands of his fallen comrades. He hopes that through partially experiencing their lives he’ll discover how to proceed. He jokes about the strangeness of soul-searching at his age, offers thanks to Euden once more, and heads out.