#finished this show a (very long) while ago but never really drew any of the characters

[oceanbluuu]

Big golden retriever ! 🐶

.

(be careful, he will bite if you’re not zzs)

[colealexart]

Can you tell us the story of you meeting Ashley and Sam?

sure!

we waited in ashley's queue after seeing laura but it was taking a while and they had to leave for lunch, then photo ops. when we did see her, we had been in the queue for a while because she likes to spend time with people, so the nerves that i was feeling at the beginning kind of dissipated. i was still super nervous to meet her, because she's ashley johnson, but my back and legs were hurting from standing in the queue for so long, so that kind of took my mind off of it a little.

my friend went before me in the queue and got my fearne print signed by her, and i was getting the same print signed too. so when it was my turn, she was like "ohh, that person had this print too" and i was like "yeah i drew it" and she looked so shocked(?) lmao. she was like "you did?! oh my god, it's beautiful!"

i mentioned how much i loved ellie and how much the last of us means to me, and she looked so touched. she stopped signing for a moment to listen to me, with the softest smile on her face. she is very good at keeping you in conversation, so much so that i completely forgot to gift her the extra fearne print that i brought for her.

i did give her the dice that i brought for her though, and she looked so excited. i started saying “i’m sure you receive so many dice but-“ and before i could finish, she interrupted me and said "NO, LAURA GETS ALL THE DICE!" which i thought was hilarious. we played rollies and i got a nat 1 and she got a 4. i also got to hear the signature ashley johnson quote “its caaacked” in person because my dice was slightly tilted off the paper.

i also completely forgot to ask for a selfie, because... well. she's ashley johnson. i was lowkey ascending into another dimension.

as for sam, i had met him before a couple times, during our group and single photo op, but for the autograph he came immediately after ashley. during our photo op, i wore the cursed sam mask that was given out during the live show prank, and he laughed and called it horrifying. i didn't realize, but during our photo he was pulling a face at me because i wore the mask, and it makes me laugh every time. (also, as we were waiting, he introduced himself to every single person taking a photo with him, which i find very funny. sir, we are literally here for you. we paid for this.)

for the sam autograph, on all the other tables i went to, they had you talk to someone beforehand to tell them your name and any autograph personalizations you wanted, so they could write it down on a post-it to make it easier for the talent. however, with sam's, it was a little different. the person helping him out asked for my name, and instead of writing it down he personally introduced me to sam himself. it immediately relaxed me, for some reason. it didn't feel like i was meeting a celebrity (even though i had already met him briefly during the photo ops.) he shook my hand and said, jokingly, "wow, i've never seen this before" about my fcg print. (i had tweeted at him a couple months ago with the print i was going to get signed at mcm, and he responded "cant wait".)

we made conversation about the live show. sam is very soft-spoken irl. he took his time with my autograph and we chatted about the flat white with vanilla please prank on marisha. he said it's very fun to bully her lol. he then took a second to look at the fcg print, and said that it's really cool and he loves the design. i had a spare in my bag, so i offered it to him. he said "oh, i don't want to take it from you, so only if you're sure" which was just. the sweetest. i gave him the print and he was very gracious and shook my hand again.

sorry, this got long lol. i had so much fun meeting them and they truly made everyone feel so welcome and loved. i could talk about my experience at mcm and the live show until the end of time.

[sunnyie-eve]

22 | Date

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: bad date

| MASTERLIST |

"Stop Dani-ing me! I have to get ready for my date!" Dani opens her door shouting out at the boys calling for her.

"Wait what?" All three shouted out not knowing about it rushing to her room.

"You have a date?" Nick asks her, "Why was I not told?" He asks as well.

"It slipped my mind. I'm sorry." She tells him, "Now what are all of you in my room?" She looks at them through her mirror.

"We wanted to know more." Chris tells her.

"Are you meeting him there or is he coming to get you or what?" Matt asks in his turn.

"He's gonna be here in 20 minutes so I need to finish so can you three leave me alone please?" She asks and they don't leave her room, "That meant get out now." She gets up shoving them out of her room so she could finish.

"She's never even talked about a guy to any of us." Chris says as they go up the the living room.

By the time that Dani's date showed up at the door she was fixing her up a bit in the bathroom so all three guys answer the door to greet the guy. He was a bit shocked to see three guys open the door and not Dani.

"She's finishing up in the bathroom..." Nick says not knowing the guys name.

"Okay, I'm Elijah and you guys are?" He introduces himself.

"Sturniolo Triplets, I'm Matt, that's Chris and Nick. Dani's roommates." Matt points to each of them with a smile.

"Nice to meet you three."

"How did you two meet?" Chris asks Elijah since he was curious.

"Through a mutual friend so we've been talking getting to know each other hitting it off. She's really sweet and kindhearted."

"Yeah, her personality is amazing. That's what drew me to her wanting to get to know her more now after two years of our friendship online she's my roommate." Nick laughs.

"Really, that's how long you guys have known her?"

"Oh no, just him and her." Matt tells him, "Chris and I just met her a few weeks ago."

"A few weeks ago and now she lives with you?"

"Yeah but it feels longer. Plus Matt invited her to move in with us. She was going through stuff." Chris speaks up again.

"That's interesting."

"Sorry, sorry! I'm done now." Dani comes rushing down the stairs tripping so Matt helps catch her by wrapping his arms around her, "Thanks for the save even through I was closer to Chris but he didn't seem to care I almost died." She gives Chris a look while she smiles at Matt.

"I would have cared, I just didn't react in time." He hits her.

"Well, you two have a good time doing whatever." Nick tells the two.

"Thank you, love you." Dani hugs Nick goodbye then waves to the other to as Elijah opens the door for her.

"Nice meeting you guys." He nods his head before shutting the door behind him.

"He seemed nice." Chris looks at his brothers.

The car ride to the restaurant was quiet for Elijah and Dani mainly because he was still processing she lived with three guys. Inside being sat at their table they start their small talk which was nice but it went down hill once they got their food.

"How come you never mention your roommates were guys?" He asks her.

"Honestly, I thought you already knew. I've posted about them and it's very pubic too. Not just on my things but theirs as well." She tells him.

"Well I don't go through everything to research you." He gets a little snappy.

"My bio on Instagram literally has rooms with three annoying Sturniolo brothers. Is that really a problem?" She laughs a bit.

"Guy and girls can't just be friends. One out of the two will want to sleep with the other."

"I disagree with that statement because I've had plenty of guy friends and they never wanted anything. Also Nick is gay so I'm sure he doesn't want that. I'm not his type so." She laughs.

"What about the other two?"

"Matt and Chris are my friends too." She tells him.

"You don't know what they really feel about you. Hell the way Matt grabbed you and he was as the one to invite you to move in." It was his turn to laugh.

"That's true, I don't know what they really feel about me but to me they're still my friends. And Matt invited me to move in because I didn't have a place to go since I didn't want to go back to my brothers and his friend's place."

The two start to bicker more about her and the three so she pays for her meal and gets an uber back to the house since she told him it wasn't gonna work out going forward or just as friends since to him that's not capable of happing.

"Sadly Dani won't be in this video because she's out on a date." Chris starts their video.

"As much as we would love to see her fail at guessing us. We'll just have to do it for her." Matt speaks up.

"I'm happy she's finally out of the house meeting more people." Chris slightly tells the truth, "We constantly have her busy. But the dude seemed nice picking her up." He says as Matt tries not to show any emotion on his face, "I approve." Chris says not exactly telling the truth.

"Yeah, we've gotten protective of her." Matt speaks up again.

"Who would've guessed?" Nick acts like he's surprised.

As time goes on with them playing Dani arrives home acting like everything went well so they wouldn't ask to much since she knows how they are.

"Look whose back." Matt says as Dani walks up from the front door.

"Hi," She smiles but was forcing it.

"How was the date?" He asks.

"It was alright." She lies, "He was a gentleman. I'm gonna go change." She leaves going back to her room.

"Seems like something..." Both Matt and Chris says as they hear her door close.

"It wasn't alright." Matt finishes.

"He seemed super nice." Chris looks at him.

"Maybe a fake first impression?" Matt sighs feeling bad if that was the case.

"I feel bad then." Chris felt the same and so did Nick because she seemed excited for the date when they talked about it.

"Dani, come see if you can guess who this next one is!" Nick calls out for her so she joins them dressed all comfortable.

"See if you can do worse than me." Matt tells her.

"Bet,"

Nick shows the zoomed in pic and Matt says it was Chris while Dani beat Chris to saying it was Matt, "That's me?" He didn't believe it even zoomed out.

"Matt really?" She laughs at him, "You still can't recognize yourself?"

"How did you know it was Matt?" Chris asks her.

"Those beautiful eyes. I see them enough to know it's him." She says making Matt get embarrassed.

Nick shows the next pic and Dani shouts Chris and he thought it was Nick, but when Matt said it was himself he changed his answer to Matt too.

"That's 100% Chris."

"What?!" He didn't believe it.

"It's Chris." Nick confirms.

"Am I better than Matt?" Dani asks Nick, who tells her yes.

During round three with Chris and Nick, Dani still played a bit,"Matt!" Dani shouts.

"You!" Chris agrees.

"Me!" Nick says himself, "Me."

"That's Matt. The amount of times you have flipped me off motherfucker." Dani points at him so he shows it was himself, "Yes!"

For the rest of the round Dani quit playing since she stopped being competitive and just didn't want to play anymore.

"That was so fun."

"Dani..." Matt was cut off by Chris.

"Did better than I expected. She's one of us." He says making them laugh.

"One of us?" Matt repeats laughing.

"She's becoming a Sturniolo." Nick laughs.

"I basically am because I'm picking up some of y'all's habits!" Dani agrees as the guys lose it laughing, "That's scary. I'm moving before it's too late." She walks closer to the camera, "Bye y'all, I'm out of here." She walks off camera.

Later in the day while everyone was on the couch watching a movie, Matt decided to text Dani since she was way on the other side over by Nick.

Matt: So the date actually went terrible?

Dani: What gave it away?

Matt: The tone of your voice when you said alright.

Dani: Ha, yeah... He hates how you guys are my roommates. Guy and girls can't be just friends.

Matt: Nick is literally gay?!

Dani: He didn't care.

Matt: That's ridiculous. What else was said?

Dani: Guys and girls can't be just friends. And he used you as an example. The way you caught me and invited me to move in.

Matt: I invited you to move in because you didn't want to go back to live with Colby and Sam. I was helping you out. And if I didn't catch you, you could've hurt yourself. Was I supposed to let you just fall?

Dani: That's what I told him before saying things aren't gonna work out and we can't be friends because he said that's impossible.

Matt: I'm sure the next guy will be better.

Dani: With my luck? I might as well stay single for life.

[hrts4wonu]

minghaos who takes his time when drawing any portrait of you, making sure to get every detail of your beauty

a/n: oh my god jasmine??? i just started reading your fanfics last night and let me tell you, i was so damn obsessed; i'm not sure if this is a hard thought or anything but i did try to make it smut (with a little bit of fluff and comfort)

wc: 1.7k

-

today was like any other day. well, not technically. today was your boyfriend's project's due date. he was supposed to draw a portrait of the person that means a lot to him; though he first thought of his very own mother, he remembered the first few words you said when you met him.

(flashback)

those few sweet words that came out of your mouth like it was nothing; "i love your artstyle, maybe you should draw your future girlfriend, yeah?" you chuckle as he turned to look at you. "pardon?" he says, a little confused.

"i'm talking about me, hao." he laughs at your straightforwardness and displays a warm smile at you while he remains seated.

you laugh along comfortably, sitting next to him while staring at the canvas that was filled with colorful strokes of red, orange, yellow, blue and pink. "you assume too much, don't y'think?" he teased as he cups your cheeks, tucking your hair behind your ear. "well, you never know, do you?" both of you chuckle together before he picks up his paintbrush and finishes his artwork.

(end of flashback)

that was long ago, yet, the memory itself never fails to melt his heart. though, he couldn't deny; he has drew you before. a couple of times actually.

the problem was, all of them just seemed bad to him. he doodled and sketched your face everyday in class; thinking that everytime he drew you with a different pen or pencil, his sketches get more terrible each day. (and yet he still managed to get good grades even though he doesn't pay attention in class because he's always drawing you)

and so, he never showed you, until you found his sketchbook in his room on your 5th monthsary. he was pretty embarrassed about it, but your praises on his drawings were enough to boost his ego and confidence.

while he quietly sits down on his chair, staring into his computer, he slowly turns to look at you with a nervous smile on his face.

"darling," he starts off, standing up and approaching you on the bed. you hum in response, dropping your phone and looking back at him. "do you want to become my reference? it's for an art project."

you nod, changing your position on the bed. "what do you need me to wear? a dress, or--"

"need you nude, baby." the temptation from his voice was enough to electrify something inside of you; feeling a bit flustered from what he said. "..if you're comfortable with it, of course. i wouldn't want to make myself look like i'm into creepy things like this, yeah?" he adds. "if you really don't wanna, it's fi--"

"mm." you shook your head no. "it's fine," though it seemed aberrant to minghao (because of how much of a gentleman he is), the longing ache in you was basically killing you.

a few minutes later, you slowly got out of the bathroom with a robe on. you were nervous of him judging you, the way your body was built, your skin tone, or maybe that was just your neediness that's getting to you.

he puts on a smile and gives you a warm hug, "take it off when you're ready, hm?" minghao whispers in your ear, leaving a small kiss.

you nod, "yeah."

minghao slowly lets go and stands behind his canvas; squeezing out all the paint onto his palette. he quickly grabs his paintbrush and starts speaking up once more, "hey," he sat down on the tiny chair. "there's still time to back out if you're really not into thi--"

"minghao? is there something wrong?" you throw your robe to the side, crossing your arms which squished your tits from below a bit.

he shook his head, "no, not at all." he looks away and focuses back on his canvas.

minghao couldn't help but stare at you for a bit longer, he didn't know what to say or do at all. it's not like there is a problem- it's that you're there, with no clothes on, and you're on full display.

but besides that, you're gorgeous.

absolutely admirable and so, so, so, so, so beautiful. to him and only him. maybe even to the whole world.

countless hours pass by and minghao was finally done with his work, "baby?" he stands up and dusts his hands off.

"did you fall aslee- oh." you quietly let out muffled moans as you try fingering yourself on the sofa; if only you could see the greed and devotion in his eyes while he painted your figure, he would've dropped his paintbrushes to the floor and take care of you already.

the sweet smile on his face disappears and instead turns into a wicked yet sinister smirk.

minghao cups your cheeks. "let me help you baby, yeah?" he coos, crouching down to give you a soft kiss on the lips before falling onto his knees.

"p-please.." you beg, withdrawing your hand from your pussy but before you could wipe it on the couch, minghao grabs it and slides it in his mouth, licking your small digits that were unlike his long, veiny hands. "hao.." you whine at the sight.

"what is it, pretty girl?" he places his hands on both of your thighs, spreading them apart. "need me?"

you nod. "i've been longing, hao."

he starts kissing your inner thighs; wet lips enough to get you even wetter than you were 10 seconds ago. though your legs were now resting on his shoulder, he still had a firm grasp on them. his nails dug onto your skin, leaving temporary crescent-shaped nail marks onto them.

"so have i, darling." he replies, leaning in towards your pussy, his nose bumping with your clit.

you whine when you feel the pleasure; it's overwhelming, yes, but it feels so good that you can't even utter a single word. not even a single one, the only thing you can let out is a moan.

he licks your pussy's lips and starts eating you out, the sweet taste not leaving his tongue. "f..fuck, hao,"

"mind your language or i'm gonna leave you aching on this sofa, y/n." he threatens and you slightly look away in embarrassment when you saw his bloodthirsty eyes darken in lust. "you wouldn't want that, would you?" he leans back, away from you as the wind's cold breeze comes in contact with your skin.

you shook your head no gently, replying to his question. "well, it's not like you could ever leave me hanging like that, hao." you tease.

he scoffs; "there's always a first time for everything, sweetheart. you should know that." he stood up and quickly switches your position in missionary, pinning you down on the sofa and pressing your legs against your chest and his.

"but, hey." you look at him in confusion as he unzips his pants and pulls his cock out. it was long and veiny, t'was so outstanding and beautiful. something so out of this world. "contrary to what mingyu said before," he breathes, fixing his position on top of you as he leans close enough to your ear. "most of the greatest works of art don't know how great they are not because they're unreal, instead, it's because they don't see the talent in the artist's eyes that were enough to make the painting as appealing as it already is." his hot breath against your ear makes you tremble, "you're just like an artwork, you know?" he teases.

"really?" he nods. "you think so?" your cute puppy eyes, begging and pleading for his angry, red tip was enough to send him to the edge but as punishment, he will make you wait longer.

after a few more minutes of teasing, he finally gives in and thrusts inside of you.

you moan loudly, holding onto his body, yet it seemed so unfair because you were basically naked and he still had his shirt on. "mm.." he looks at you, stopping his thrusting as he felt a little confused.

"what is it, hm?" you slowly tug at his shirt and he finally gets it. "ah, i see." he smirks and takes his shirt off.

he goes back to thrusting inside of you and you let out another moan, "m-mmh!"; he grunts as he thrusts even harder, not stopping for even a breath.

you squirm, putting your hand over your mouth to keep your mouth shut yet you can't help yourself but moan even louder. he notices this and he stops for a moment, leaving you hanging which made you ache for more (though it's not like he could pull out because your pussy was basically sucking him back in), grabbing your hand pinning them over your head as he fucks into you.

"h..hao!" you moan loudly as you felt him hitting that 'sweet spot' inside of you. "hao.." you breathe, starting to pant as your legs start trembling. "i-.. i'm so close.." you whine continuously as his hand lets go of your wrists, traveling down to your nipples.

he rubs them gently, leaning in and licking them clean. minghao does the same for the other breast making you moan and yearn for more;

"i..i'm gonna cum, please.." you beg.

"please what, baby?" he smirks, pulling his lips away from your lips and staring into your doe eyes. "tell me," he starts. "tell me what you need, i'll give you everything. every single thing just for you, my lovely, pretty girl."

you look at him with desire and thirst. "need to cum, please.."

everything was testing him; no, no, no.. that's not the right word, is it? let's try that again-- everything was arousing him. it felt like you were tormenting eachother using their own bodies. everything was so tempting to him, he couldn't help but give in; "cum for me, princess," he says with a smirk on his face. "do it, make me proud, okay?"

it wasn't that long until you reach your climax and you came on his cock. he helps you ride your orgasm until he reaches his, planting his seed inside of you.

the both of you catch your breathes together before he pulls out of you and places a warm, loving kiss on your temple; "come on, let's clean you up, hm?" despite being exhausted, you shot him a smile and he stood up, carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. "mhm.." you manage to say, still trying to catch your breath from what had just happened.

"hao, i love you." you say, with a smile on your face as you return his kiss back, instead, this time it was on his lips. "i love you too, baby."

a/n 2: sorry this took so long,, i had work and i was slightly busy.. but anyways, i'm FINALLY done! it didn't turn out how i expected it to be yet i still think it's a little better than what i usually write. besides that, i'm really, really glad to make a minghao fanfic so please ask / request for more <3

[arthursgun]

Son of A Gun, Chapter One (RDR2, Arthur Morgan x OC)

❝ 𝙃𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙬 𝙖 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙪𝙣 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙬 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 ❞

Blurb: Maeve O'Connor had had enough. She worked tirelessly for her father on his ranch for her only thanks to be the 'opportunity' to marry a man she does not love. But everyone knows women can't find respectable work, so Maeve gives up on her dream of freedom until her wedding night, when a curious acquaintence man gives her the real opportunity she needs.

Author's Note: Hey gang. This is my first post EVER on Tumblr so please be nice. I started this piece on Wattpad like three months ago and havent finished it. It's based off "Son of a Gun" by Lord Huron and will most likely have short enough chapters and will be short enough in the long run. Also, English is not really my strong suit so there are going to be many mistakes.

Maeve is twenty, and Arthur is twenty-five. Based long before the events of Red Dead Redemption 2.

If you come across this please support your local lil writer!

EDIT: decided to proof read. don't think i mentioned it but maeve and her father are irish immigrants. lowkey left out vital info there

Tags: Arthur Morgan x OC, Rancher!OC, slow burn, strangers to lovers, i just wanna be a cowboy so bad, mentions of violence, cursing, NOT PROOF READ

SON OF A GUN

Word Count: 4367

Stars. You couldn't quite see them anywhere else like you could on the ranch, Maeve remarked to herself as she gazed at them. The sky was so dark the stars became almost blindingly bright and clear at night. During those few years Maeve had spent in cities, the smoke from factories and lights on the street obstructed her view of them, and it wasn't until her father purchased the ranch had she got a real good look at them. Every night, she clambered on the roof of the barn, the cattle sound asleep under her as she gazed at them. She drew constellations in her sketchbook and noted how they changed through the year, and when she spied a meteor, she'd make a wish. A wish to leave her mundane life, a wish for excitement. For something to happen in her life that wasn't cleaning out stables or moving cattle or ploughing fields. She longed for excitement.

And while granted, ranching life came with it's own twists and turns, they were nothing compared to the stories she'd read about, great warriors saving princesses or gunslingers out west drawing their arms on each other over a spilled drink. Maeve took the time on the barn roof to make her own stories, too, scribbling her ideas down in a hopes that could be her ticket out of her home. A career for herself. But she knew her fate had already been written out by her father, he was very clear on that. She would stay on the ranch, farming, until whenever a suitable bachelor showed up. Then she'd be tied to him in a loveless marriage and made work on his farm instead until she was too old and weak to work or carry more children for her husband. She loathed the word husband, the very idea of one, even more than the idea of being a wife. Despite the endless lectures from her step-mother, who delivered said speeches to both Maeve and her two younger half-sisters, Maeve never took to the idea of belonging to somebody else. The very thought made her shiver and her jaw clench in anger, for that was all she was raised to be since money got to her father's head. Thought himself an aristocrat or something now - a man of great honour, he'd say. Maeve could hear his voice echoing in her head almost constantly; he needed his grandchildren to be of noble blood like he was.

Pity his grandchildren would never see the state of the country Maeve was born in.

She stretched, feeling exhaustion pulling on her eyelids. The night was just like any other, a soft autumn breeze nipped at her rosy cheeks, the same breeze which dragged along the wispy clouds above her head. She knew there was no promise of rain tomorrow by the looks of the clouds, which warmed her heart. Tomorrow she was taking out a young mare she'd been training, Cara, this time planning to go as far as Rhodes, which would take nearly the whole day. The ranch was situated in the northern heartlands of New Hanover, near Twin Stick Pass, from which it got it's name. Twin Stick Ranch. It wasn't the biggest ranch even in the 5 states, granted, but the O'Connors overlooked four open livestock fields and two fields for crops, as well as their own stable company, seven cabins, three barns, sty, coop and house. It was a lot to maintain with only nine able-bodied workers, but they kept on their feet. Maeve overlooked the horses, hence why she was given the job of training the mare. Or rather, she gave the job to herself to gain some small snippets of freedom every now and again.

Maeve begun her descent through a trapdoor which opened on the roof with a ladder down to the loft. The loft was where they kept the feeds for the livestock and a stock of crops they used to feed themselves, which was now becoming quite a hefty amount now that winter was imminent. She was still in her work clothes - boots, jeans and all - as her step-mother was adamant she couldn't set foot in the barn with her white nightdress on. This actually suited Maeve down to the ground as it gave her an excuse to not return to the homestead after working and wander out to the barn instead. She tread carefully over through the barn as to not wake the livestock once she'd descended from the loft and headed outside, striding back towards the house. Judging by the moon, it must have been past midnight, but there was lights and laughter erupting from one of the ranch hand's cabins. Maeve smiled as she walked past, hearing the men taunt each other over what must have been a game of cards. She used to enjoy nights like that months prior before an engagement with one of the ranch hands ruined it all. It was just a stupid crush really, one amazing night spent with him, but whatever freedom she'd had to mingle with the ranch hands was erased the second her father found out. The ranch hand, merely five years her senior, was fired. He promised Maeve the world, but she knew that was all a lie to get her to do his bidding. She only looked on that time with fondness, though, as it was a hell of a lot more enjoyable than whatever life she was living now.

As she strolled back towards her own house, there were no lights, there never was. Though eight people resided in the home - Maeve, her father, step-mother, and her four half-siblings - there was seldom hearty laughter like what the ranch hands enjoyed. Her family looked on the house as a place of function, to eat and sleep in, but not as a home. She could remember a time when she lived in a house full of love and laughter, a home, back before she arrived in America. The memories swept through her mind every time she saw the house with no lights or no sign of life, and it only emphasised her loneliness. Once she reached the porch and skipped over the step which always obnoxiously creaked, she opened the door to the living room, feet falling on the bearskin rug which lay across the floorboards in front of the entrance. She shut the door without a sound, rounded the sofas and past the dining table, but didn't go as far as the kitchen. She turned to her left, now in a small hallway. The pantry and bathroom doors were down this hallway, as well as the stairs, which she tiptoed up, ignoring the photographs of their family her step-mother forced them to take every time she birthed another one of those devilish children. She found herself on the landing, and crept towards her bedroom door, which was the first on the left. Luckily for her, she had her own bedroom, something she had been able to argue for. Her two half brothers had to share, as did her two half sisters. The room was the smallest in the house. Her bed lay under the window against the wall opposite the door, an armoire beside the door and a vanity against the wall to the left. She also had a bookshelf filled to the brim, which neared the ceiling. That bookshelf was her prized possession and the only thing she would take with her from the house when she was married off. She begged her father for one for her twelfth birthday, and had sat there for over a decade, gathering all the books she read until she could fit no more. 

Morning came quickly once Maeve had shut her eyes, and before long, her father was trundling about the house. The clock on the wall told her it was 6am, which was their usual time to start the day. She busied herself getting dressed into her work jeans and plaid shirt and tying her jet black hair in a low plait behind her head before her step-mother could barge in and yell about how lazy Maeve was and how she needed to be up at once. She could already smell the porridge by the time she was ready, and carried her boots downstairs with her so she didn't 'damage' the rugs. Her half brothers, George and Scott, were at the dining table, not speaking a word to each other. The house was almost eerily quiet, although the people in it were busy getting ready for the day. Her half brothers were of working age at fourteen and twelve, but her stepmother was adamant they were her babies, so they couldnt work and must be educated instead. The idea made Maeve resent them, how she was denied schooling but was made to work, but they got off scot-free. She sat at the end of the table away from them, not exchanging pleasantries with anyone as she spooned the lumpy porridge in her mouth and forced herself to swallow it.

Her thoughts of resentment and daydreams of another life were interrupted by her father erupting into the room, frantically pulling on his suit blazer despite the fact his vest wasn't even buttoned and his gold pocket watch was halfway out of his pocket. 

"I am going to town," he announced, although nobody was really listening. He still held himself high and proud, smoothing the ends of his moustache in the mirror and running a hand over his pomade-covered salt and pepper hair, of which he didn't have much. "I'll be gone for most of the day. Young man," he placed his hands roughly on George's shoulders - "You are the man of the house until I return."

George didn't offer a smile or even looked at him, rather focused on a knot in the oak table and muttered a "Yes, sir." 

Daniel didn't even eat of a bite of breakfast, only quickly offered his wife a peck on the cheek and rushed out the door. Only then did Maeve's stepsisters arrive in the kitchen, still in their nightgowns and hair unbrushed. 

"Mother," one piped up as she slipped into a chair, waiting for her mother to serve a bowl to her.

"Yes?"

"What does father do in town?"

Maeve watched as her step-mother turned away from the cooker to look at her step sister. She watched as her features twitched, and a rage erupted behind her eyes. She took a laboured breath as she eyed the girl.

"Business, Bella," she answered, in a much calmer tone than what Maeve was expecting. "He attends to his business."

"Since father said I'm man of the house today, do I have business to attend to?" George asked, although he wasn't graced with an answer. Their mother simply turned around to pluck the porridge pot from the stove, before turning and spooning some into the girls' bowls. Maeve had long since finished her portion, but remained seated. She always enjoyed the entertainment from her family, it was like a drama show at the theatre, and she was always just another audience member, not even acknowledged by the actors even though she was on the stage. That was, unless, the actors finally had enough of working around her.

"Maeve!" her step-mother snapped, causing Maeve to take her attention from the little play unfolding before her and to look her step-mother in the eyes. "Do you not have somewhere to be?"

"That I do," Maeve responded, sending a small, sly smile toward her step-mother. "I would much rather be out there than in here, anyway."

She got up before her step-mother could utter a response, not that she would. Maeve's hat was hung up on the wall beside the door with all the coats. It was a diamond shape, pale brown, with a worn sage plaited rope around the brim to tell everyone it was hers. It was a gift from an old ranch hand, Randy, one of their first, who she knew when she was very young. He gave it to her on his last day, although she was never really sure why he left, he seemed so happy. As Maeve matured, though, she figured it was her father's doing, laying him off because of his age. He must've been dead, but sometimes she held out hope she'd see him again. Maeve descended the porch stairs, not bothering to skip the creaky step this time. Although it was still early in the morning, the heat from the sun was already sweltering, possibly the warmest morning they'd had all summer. She made her way to the stables, nodding hello to passing ranch hands who tipped their hats to her. She spied one of the younger ranch hands mounting a horse in the pen, her mare, the one she was taking out.

"You goin' somewhere?" Maeve inquired, and the ranch hand almost jumped out of his skin. He turned the horse around, met with the view of Maeve leaning against the fence with her elbows, quizzical look on her face.

"N-no, ma'am," he stuttered, eyes flitting to the grassy pasture beneath him. "Your father, he uh-"

"My father told you to get on my horse?" Maeve asked as she tilted her head to the side. She surveyed the mare, whose head was bowed, munching on grass. She was a calm one, and that was why Maeve took such a liking to her. She enjoyed lying out under the sun with her, watching her grazing on pasture while they took a break from her training. 

"Sorry, ma'am," the ranch hand mumbled, swinging a leg off the horse and landing on the dusty ground with a thud. 

"That's better, Harvey," Maeve smiled, patting the mare's neck. "I'm sure there's other horses 'round here that need a tending to, isn't there?"

Harvey swallowed, his gaze fixed on the ground so Maeve could only make out his chin under the brim of his hat. "S'pose."

Maeve watched as Harvey spun on his heel and walked away before turning back to the mare, a hand under her chin. "Let's get outta here, girl." 

Maeve mounted up, half thankful Harvey had tacked her up already, before kicking off down the dirt path towards the gate and out further into the wilderness, galloping onto the horizon.

The leaves had begun to change from their deep green to sunset orange and reds, and once Cara had galloped to Dewberry Creek, Maeve slowed her to a walk to admire the lush landscape and changing trees. She felt so free, out here, and no longer looked at the birds with envy as they flew by, because now she felt she could fly too. The air was almost cleaner, untouched by noise or cattle or straw. She never truly noticed how the farm had a scent until she left it. Maeve often thought of the farm as a whole other world from earth. 

She passed a man on his horse, who tipped his hat to the floor, not in greeting, but so she could not see his face. Maeve knew what he was instantly - an outlaw. They got many of his type in the countryside, near the farm. There were little to no lawmen out there, which half suited her father. Maeve was aware of the dealings going on at the farm, she'd overhear her father talking about shady business a fair deal. Maeve had to restrain herself from peering too much at the man as he went on by. From what she could make out, he donned a black denim sleeveless jacket, his black hat worn from years of use, jet black hair revealing itself as it burst from beneath the hat. The only colour on him was his shirt, which lay beneath his jacket in a stark contrast of baby blue and black. Maeve spied three guns on him, two pistols and a long arm slung over his shoulder, most likely a repeater by the looks of what she could see. She knew he had others hidden away though. He passed, and Maeve stole a glance his way - meeting his eye in a flitting moment. He'd been looking at her the whole time, or more likely her pistol, which sat snug in the black leather holster on her hips. That was her only weapon, though. He looked at her with more confidence than she looked at him with, his gaze lasting longer. 

Maeve felt no fear as they crossed ways. In fact she was in awe. How could someone so unlawful just be out here without fear? Was he not worried he'd be caught? Then again, Maeve knew he was probably used to this, and had probably been on the run for a long time. That's what happened when you joined gangs, you never left them. Maeve's stomach burned in jealousy, though she did not know why. She was safe on the farm, she was more sensible than to be jealous of the outlaw lifestyle. Maeve felt the outlaw's presence fade, although her thoughts remained of him. She wondered where he was going, where he came from. How many people he'd killed and his horse's name, if it had one and wasn't just one that was stolen. She was almost obsessive of him, or his life. He'd the muse in her next story.

The plot of the mysterious cowboy's life unfolded until Maeve rode into Rhodes, making mental notes. She hitched Cara outside the General Store, and bid her goodbye with a pat on her neck. Maeve internally scolded herself at her forgetting her sugar cubes in her satchel in the stable. She stepped up onto the porch in front of the store, ignoring the peers she received from the old man on the bench. People never kept their eyes and judging looks to themselves, but she had grown used to it. She pushed open the door, meeting the eye of the shopkeeper, who leaned on the counter with an elbow and watched as she approached him.

"Can I help you?" he inquired through a slow southern drawl. Maeve loathed him. She barely saw him once a month, whenever she was able to get down to Rhodes, but he gave off a feeling, he had an aura about him. The way he looked at her enfuriated her. She didn't bother smiling, just spoke.

"Horse medicine."

The man nodded towards the wall behind her. She turned her head to look around, eyes falling on the bottles. It wasn't there last time she'd been in the store, and she suddenly felt incredibly stupid. Her eyes scanned the shelf, a dozen yellow and green labelled bottles stared back. She tried to not let her expression falter as she stepped towards the shelf and reached for the bottle, fingers closing around the neck of the brand her father swore he'd never use.

"Your father's tab?" 

Maeve closed her eyes and drew a breath. She hated the idea that people knew who she was. She often wondered how, as there weren't many photographs of her lying about and she barely went to town with her father. Once her lungs were empty, her irritation subsided, and she turned to face him with a simple nod and a "Yeah." Her father wouldn't approve, but she took care of her horses. None of the cheap stuff.

She practically skipped out of the store.

She turned away from Cara, who was too busy staring at passers-by to notice Maeve at all, and strolled down the main street, or really the only street in the town. She knew exactly where she was going, and stopped just outside the sheriff's office. The bounty posters had changed since she'd last checked them. Maeve hurried to the board, studying the posters with great curiosity. Black Belle was there again, and a new name with a strange face, Marvin Kent. He didn't look like a Marvin Kent. He had a scratchy looking beard and a mean, sly smile, composed of hardly any healthy looking teeth. He was just generally unkept looking. Maeve brushed the poster aside, revealing another beneath, and her breath hitched. John Marston. The outlaw she'd passed on the way to Rhodes. She recognised the look in his face, his sharp jaw and young eyes. The bushy black hair which fell above his shoulders was just as thick and dark under the hat. She scanned the poster, he was only wanted alive. There was not a substantial bounty, and he had only committed theft. His fictional life seemed so much more interesting.

Maeve never actually went after these bounties, obviously, but liked looking at the photographs. They were different faces from the ones she saw every day in her family and the ranch hands. It let her have faces to imagine in her stories, too. Stories she intended to publish. To sell. To make enough money off of to live a comfortable life, far away from her 'family'. Her own life.

The door to the Sheriff's office swung open and a tall, burly, serious-looking man with a serious-looking moustache sauntered out. Smoke billowed from his pipe, and he let out a small cough from his smoke-filled lungs. Maeve felt like scrunching her face in disgust at the smell, but decided against being rude. He was the sheriff, after all, and himself and her father were on good terms. Keep your friends close, but enemies closer. That seemed to be her father's thing. Maeve looked away, opting to peer at Mr Marston again, but aware she couldn't overstay her welcome.

"Uh, missy?"

"Yes, sheriff?" she responded, not looking at him. "Just looking."

"Your father know you're out here? All alone?"

Maeve nodded. "'Course he does."

"Come into the station, missy, I'll take care o' ya."

Maeve turned on her heel and walked the opposite direction without another word. She heard him grumble to himself as she walked away, eyes on the road in front of her, not passing any heed on the six or so men who strode by on horseback, nor the fact their faces were covered by handkerchiefs, nor the fact they drew their guns right in front of the bank. She only really paid attention to them when they began yelling and burst through the bank door, causing a commotion among the dozen of citizens lounging about outside the General Store. Men and women ran out, down the stairs, hysterical. Maeve was barely a few meters away from Cara, who was beginning to feel distressed at the ruckus, but Maeve found herself drawn to the carnage. The men were huge with huge guns, the barrels of which were being brandished at everything that moved in the bank. Through the window panes, she spotted the men counting money, yelling, laughing. It was the thrill Maeve sought, not the money. Her feet were moving, and she was at the first step of the bank, much to the protests of the civilians and lawmen around her. Their pleas fell on deaf ears. She was perplexed.

Just as the sole of her boot met the wood of the step, the door burst open, and the men rushed out, their guns ablaze. Maeve didn't have time to react, and was grabbed harshly by a huge hand which was attached to a huge man. The deafening gunshots and screams ended simultaneously once she was grabbed. Maeve opened her eyes, which she'd shut out of fear, to find herself facing the lawmen and cowering citizens from the porch of the bank. She couldn't move. Maeve peered at the arm which held her. The forearm alone spanned shoulder to shoulder. To her right she could see her kidnapper's outstretched arm, clothed by a thick coat, a simple cattleman's revolver clutched in his fist. She could hear his breath and feel his heartbeat he was so close, pressed against her back. She was a hostage.

"Gentlemen, we appear to be stuck," a man's voice bellowed over the silence. It came from Maeve and the gang's side, but she didn't dare to move. Who knew what they wanted with her?

"Let her go," the sheriff shouted, his rifle aimed in her general direction.

The man chuckled. "Now why would we do that?"

"We will open fire."

Another chuckle. Maeve's heartbeat was so strong she almost couldn't hear the conversation over the blood rushing through her veins. If they opened fire, she'd surely be dead.

"You see, if you open fire..." a pause. Silence. "My good man here will also open fire."

The gun to the right of Maeve, which was clutched in her kidnapper's hand, slowly turned so the barrel was aimed at her temple. She didn't dare look, but could feel the cold iron ring against her skin. Suddenly, it all felt very real. This wasn't a story anymore.

"To hell with this!"

Gunfire. Maeve was thrown from the arms which had once captured her, now she was sprawling on the wooden floor. Her head hit the porch first, then her shoulder, with a sickening thud. All she could hear was a ringing, a high-pitched drone, and could barely make out whose legs who stood over her belonged to who. She was grabbed again, and dragged roughly to her feet.

"Grab her again! We need leverage!"

Thrown again, she was in cover now behind cover, her 'saviour' hunched down beside her, cowering behind the box, too.

"Dutch! This isn't how we do things," he pleaded, the youthfulness in his voice sounding very out of place in amongst the hustle of men. He turned to Maeve, he was speaking, yet she couldn't hear. All she could see were blue eyes peering at her over a black handkerchief which selfishly covered the lower half of his face. He yelled again, and she heard this time, behind all the profanities and gunfire.

"Run! Run, goddamnit, run!"

Maeve's legs moved before she knew what was happening. She turned and fled, lungs burning, tears welling in her eyes, a pain in her head, the ringing in her ears, the name. Dutch. Dutch, this isn't how we do things.

[giuliano-fan-account]

happy pride mont

Well I guess I could share some drawings since usually I just dogpile everything I want to say into 1 post and don’t necessarily have room for the art which is sad.

So I decided for pride month I’ll just dogpile some of my art that I haven’t shown here relating to my favorites from hxh kind of being like those 60 color packs of crayons.

I draw kind of like a crazy guy and I have a fair bit of art so I’ll make a cut off line to not clog...

Btw so I dont jumpscare you the art is of Izunavi and Giuliano, Shalnark and Chrollo, & Muherr and hehe a not canon character (In that order)

Hehe i just have some portraits of Izu for fun here not necessarily ship or anything related but I just wanted to share them Since I made them a while ago and he looks very nice:

Ok but it gets a little gay here so urm: Happy pride moth:

I made this one because I wanted them to have a happy life that I knew they could never have!!!!!!

I made this one because THEY BOTH LOOKED SO GOOFY IN THAT ONE PANEL THAT I HAD TO REMAKE IT I COULDNT DO IT

just a funny little drawing for fun that I stayed up a little too late making 1 time because these guys just kind of carry me away..

On valentines day I was having a rlly bad time a really bad day and everything and then I made these guys and everything was better 

MS PAINT BRO

I made this one in ms paint and it makes me so happy man... I have it as my background screen on my computer rn i didn’t intend for this drawing to bang so hard but also I kind of drew it intending for it to be like the only house that’s not on fire yet because that’s a song that’s perfect for these guys hear me out

I made that one at like 2 am and yes it was to this song and to me it is objectively about these guys

I guess it could be a projection bc i just wanted to squeeze that guy bc hes just so funny and silly and I love these guys and giuliano is just like me for real so it’s fine 

I care about them a lot man I even made an article on the shipping wiki for them because I uhhh I uh help I urm

I have... another one that I ALSO made an article for... and it brings me extreme distress as well as extreme joy

we have our 2nd place to Shalkuro :100:

I have a lot of art for it I’ll make a post for it one day I swear and it will be insane in length because I really need help man ... If izugiuli is my comfort ship this is the REASON why I need comfort

proceeds to show harmless nice little drawings:

I saw that trend everywhere so this is a rlly recent drawing but I made them with the barbie and ken because I... well come on... its literally perfect okay

gooberish little drawing because i was bored

THIS WAS A REDRAW OF A GOOFY GARTIC PHONE DRAWING MY FRIEND MADE SO THATS WHY IT LOOKS KIND OF STRANGE I tried my best to replicate the essence

shalkuro as teens ig comfort (I relentlessly got called gay for this one Stop jules bullying 2023) 

Im a little crazy so maybe I did make another omori hxh au and a lot of it is Shalnark in the au or Shalnark and Chrollo

Redraw of the sticker because hehe

THIS IS BASED OFF OF AN UNFINISHED FIC I HAVE thats not necessarily ship related but also is but also you can interpret it any way you want and imo it’s so cute

I’ll finish it one day.

Another ms paint art but it’s inspired off of bad apple for actually no reason other than that I think it would look cool and I went through 5 stages of hell trying to draw this but I made it out fine

God I want to talk so much about Shalkuro since Shalnark is ALSO just like me for real and I actually haven’t before on this account and it’s kind of my soundboard for talking abt whatever relating to hxh but I really think I should save it for a post of it’s own..

Anyways onto the next one its a little funny thing

I shipped my self insert with Muherr as a joke ok but now its kinda funny and I like it and I actually rlly like these drawings i made for it

dont ask why he looks drunk its a long story

I had to make this it was honestly too funny for me not too and I love it so much EXCEPT for the fact that I realized that my self insert looks so much like pariston in here

Im supposed to have dark hair but I just didnt feel like coloring it in there bc the lineart looked good enough to me

but yeah muherr x jules otp forever /j

hapy pride month whoever or whatever you are whether your gay or not!!!!

dont forget to have fun and be a kind neighborly person like me 

[griseldabanks]

(To any Fig Tree folks who might be reading: This is novelmonger.)

Has your WIP a working title? If so, tell us! If not, have you any idea of what it might be?

For this, I'm going to go with my dragon rider story The Ambassadors because it's the only one of my original WIPs that I've finished the first draft of.

Have you a synopsis for your WIP? If so, give it to us! If not, can you give us a blurb on what your WIP is about?

I don't have a blurb, because blurbs and summaries are really hard for me. But in short, this story is about Sean, an ordinary young man who has been raised by the priest of his village, which is suddenly attacked by a dragon for the first time in living memory. To Sean's astonishment, the dragon drops an egg in his lap shortly before dying, and soon after, the egg hatches. Suddenly, Sean finds himself with a live black dragon baby on his hands in the middle of a village full of angry peasants whose homes have just been destroyed by the dragon's mother. What is he to do? Now that he's holding this helpless little creature and talking to it, he can't just give it up to be killed. But they can't stay there either. So Sean, who takes on the name Shard, runs away with his new friend, the dragon Shynael, heading for the dragon kingdom where they hope to find safety.

(Shynael = shuh-NIE-ell)

Have you a working/mock cover for your WIP? If so, show us! If not, have you an idea in mind?

Not really. Years ago, a friend drew some fanart, and while I know I probably couldn't/shouldn't just use that for the cover, I'd love it to be something like that. It was a picture of Shard and Shynael posing dramatically in a forest, Shard wearing the black scale armor he gets once they join the Ambassadors (the "dragon riders"). I would especially love it if the expression on Shynael's face could be kind of ambiguous, so when you first glance at it, you see a noble and serious dragon, but the more you get to know Shynael, the more you can see the goofy silliness of this literal child.

How did you get the idea for this story?

This story was born of pure frustration. After reading Eragon and the first Dragonriders of Pern book, I was so full of "no no no you're doing it wrong!" that I rushed to my computer and banged out the whole first scene on the fly. I was just so tired of reading stories about dragons who are either basically just magical animals/monsters, or are all stoic and wise, and can only speak telepathically. I was also tired of reading about dragon riders inexplicably becoming more and more Elf-like over time in Eragon, and all the names in Dragonriders of Pern sounding atrocious to my ears, so I wanted to fix that too. So I started dreaming up a dragon rider story where dragons speak with their mouths like anyone else, where the main dragon character is playful and goofy and never shuts up (and has black scales but isn't evil), and where the dragon names look really weird but also flow well.

How long do you think it will be? Is it longer or shorter than you thought it would be?

The first draft was only about 83k. When I rewrite it, I know it's going to be much longer than that. Partly because I really need to flesh some things out better, partly because that first draft is about ten years old and my writing skill has vastly improved in that time. I'm not sure how long it will end up when I finally rewrite the whole thing, but probably at least 100k. I want it to be a respectable chonk of a novel, without unnecessary bloating.

Who’s your favourite character so far?

If you couldn't tell by this point, my lovely dragon son, Shynael :3 He starts out very cute, and stays a wonderful, light-hearted spark of life through the whole story. He acts as an excellent foil to Shard, who tends to be much more serious and quiet. Also, he will always hold a special place in my heart because he dropped into my lap fully formed, his name came to me in a dream, and overall he's nearly effortless to write. He's basically the character of my dreams.

What’s your favourite memory related to this WIP?

That would have to be the moment my characters snatched the reins away from me and completely turned the whole story around without my say-so. I was just meandering along, writing what I thought was a fun romp, touching on various fantasy tropes and cliches in a not-exactly-satirical way...when suddenly, before I realized what was happening, Shard took control and veered the story into very dark and angsty territory.

I got to the end of the scene with hardly any memory of actually writing it, metaphorically standing there with blood-soaked hands in the middle of a crime scene, slowly realizing what I'd done. That was the moment I realized this story wasn't just a fun little adventure for me to respond to various ways I'd seen dragons done dirty. No, it was a serious story that had something important to say. There were depths to my characters even I hadn't realized before, a complex struggle just waiting to come to the surface, and that was what I needed to pursue.

I don't think I've ever had such a visceral experience with my characters, before or since. I honestly feel like I'm not even the one who wrote that scene.

Any special person(s) who helped create it?

Sadly, mostly people I no longer talk to :/ As I wrote the first draft, I posted it to a forum I was involved in at the time, and I had a small core of like three people who would read and comment on each scene. They were invaluable not only in giving me the push to actually write the whole thing, but also gave feedback that helped shape the story as I went along. Most importantly, one of them was very critical (in the best way) of how I dealt with pacifism/violence in the story, because that's one of the big themes in it. I think that subject has become much more nuanced in this story as a result.

What’s your favourite scene so far (if you can tell about it without spoilers!)?

Well, I do really like the scene I mentioned above, where Shard took control away from me. It was a surprise, but a pleasant one (for me, not for him) that led to so many interesting scenes exploring that whole extra dimension of the story.

But my favorite scene might actually be one that came out of that whole development. Shard ends up in a fight with someone while separated from Shynael, and that someone seriously wounds Shard...and just leaves him there. And so Shard is bleeding out until Shynael comes along, freaks out, and manages to get help. At least at the time, I thought the writing itself was particularly good, and there's just a lot of drama and angst on all sides of this delicious scene.

Can you give us a snippet?

With the reminder that this writing is very outdated and not up to my current standards, here is an excerpt of the first time Shynael takes Shard flying with him:

Reluctantly, Shard did as his friend wished and clambered back into the hollow where he had sat before. He barely had time to grasp Shynael's neck with his arms and knees before the great dragon reared up, beating his wings with a whooshing sound, and leapt into the air. Shard felt as though he had left his stomach on the ground, but halfway through Shynael's ascent it seemed to catch back up with him. His ears throbbed and popped and prickled and he had to squint in the cold air rushing against his face, but partway up these discomforts seemed to fade away as well. A soaring feeling filled his chest as Shynael levelled out, a new and wonderful exhilaration that made his entire body feel alive. Shard looked over Shynael's shoulder at the ground far, far below them. The trees were the size of tufts of grass, and the farmland stretching out to the horizon looked like a patchwork quilt of gold and brown, with threads of silver and green where the trees hugged the banks of streams. The town he had visited the day before was nothing more than several dark specks on the ground, the church a white spot in the center. Before he could take in any more, Shynael shot forward in a sudden burst of speed, beating his wings faster. The whizz-whoosh, whizz-whoosh of his leathery wings was all that Shard could hear, louder even than the wind roaring in his ears. The air was as cold as a winter breeze up here, but Shynael's scales were warm. Shard sat in the hollow of the dragon's neck, feeling the wind soaring past him, around his ears, through his hair, catching in his clothes and buffetting his eyelashes, and with every passing moment the joy mounted ever higher inside him. He felt as though he had never truly been alive before this day, before Shynael had taken him up into the sky. He could feel the power and grace of the dragons all around him as Shynael twisted through the air, beat his wings, and shifted his tail like the rudder of a great airborne ship. Without any warning, Shynael tucked his wings in and pointed his nose down towards the ground. Shard clung on for dear life as they plummeted downwards faster than an arrow from the string. The ground rushed up to meet them, closer and closer, and Shard was sure they were going to crash in a mess of blood, bones, and scales. At the last moment, Shynael snapped out his wings, the wind caught at them, and he soared up again as fast as he had fallen. As they rose through the air like magic, Shard laughed till his sides hurt. Shynael trilled his pleasure as well, and their voices mingled in the air, frightening away a flock of geese they passed.

Is the story still what you thought it would be or has it thrown you a couple curveballs?

Oh boy, you have no idea how different this story is now from what it used to be! Well, I've already mentioned the 180 the characters did, turning this mostly light-hearted fantasy romp into an angsty story that now deals with topics as weighty as how to live with yourself when you have blood on your hands, suicidal thoughts, insanity, guilt and forgiveness....

But even after I finished the first draft, and you'd think at least the basic form of the story would be fairly set in stone, it's still taking me by surprise. In the first draft (and I'm not sure what possessed me to do this, because I normally can't stand it), I actually had a love triangle going on. After putting some distance between myself and the story, and getting more experience with stories in general, I've changed things so now there's actually no romance at all. Nothing against romance, and the one Shard ended up with was actually very sweet if you ask me, but I've realized it would actually be much more interesting to explore the interpersonal conflicts of this story without romance getting in the way. This way, it's less "we're on opposite sides because you jilted me/stole my girl/etc." and more "we're on opposite sides because we've realized our ideologies are fundamentally opposed to each other."

Is there a Bible verse, poem, hymn, picture, or quote that helped shape this story?

Psalm 130 ("Out of the depths I cry to you...") ended up being really important to the story. In its original form, I just plopped Christianity into the story wholesale because it was simpler and because I wanted to do something with St. George and the dragon. Since then, I've realized that I would rather develop my own pseudo-Christian fantasy religion, and I've made some headway in that area. So in future drafts of this story, it won't be possible to use any actual Bible verses, unfortunately. But in the first draft, there's actually a super dramatic scene where one character quotes the entirety of Psalm 130 to another, and it changes the whole course of that character's life.

I definitely want that sentiment to remain, and may have to come up with some sort of poetic verses from my fantasy scriptures to use in Psalm 130's place.

When and where have you done most of the writing so far?

Most of my memories of writing the first draft involve me sitting in the living room with the ancient hand-me-down laptop I had at the time, sneaking time away from schoolwork to write the next scene I was excited about.

Where do you get inspiration for this story?

As I mentioned above, most of the initial inspiration came from reading various dragon rider stories like the Inheritance Cycle and the Dragonriders of Pern series, and being frustrated because no one was doing dragons the way I thought they should be done. And really, that extends to other parts of the story, not just the dragons. The whole story can be seen as me pushing back against the trends and tropes I see in the fantasy I've been reading for most of my life, trying to tell the story I've always wanted to hear but never quite seem able to find.

For example, I'm always so frustrated when I come across a fantasy religion that is obviously styled after Christianity, but is obviously corrupt/evil (the most egregious example that's coming to mind is the Children of the Light from the Wheel of Time series). I am so tired of evil, selfish priests ending up as a villain. It's old, it's boring, it's not surprising anymore, yet people keep on doing it. So I have my protagonist be raised by a priest who is kind, good, and open-minded without compromising his morals, and has taught Shard to be that way as well. And even though Shard faces a lot of evil in his story, and there are times he doubts God's goodness or his own worthiness, the conclusion is not him becoming disillusioned or throwing away his faith. I'll need to change the symbol to conform to my fantasy religion's symbology, but in the first draft Shard has a little ivory cross he wears around his neck, which he uses in his daily prayers and which has such significance to his character that the friend who drew the picture of him made sure to include it.

There's far too little of what I want to see in fantasy, so I'm afraid I shall have to write it myself - and one of those things is a positive view of monotheistic religion.

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Definitely a pantser. I wasn't even intending to write this thing in the first place; it began on a whim, and the only reason I managed to finish it was because I showed it to people and they kept wanting to know what would happen next. I remember that, right after writing the first scene, I came up with some vague ideas of how I wanted it to end. I usually need at least that before I can get any writing done, so at least I have a goal to work towards. Everything else I just came up with as I went along.

Now that I'm thinking about a rewrite, I think I probably need to put a bit more work into plotting and structuring it. The first draft sagged quite a bit in the middle, as I was wandering around aimlessly in search of a plot, so I definitely need to tighten that up at the very least.

Do you have a little ritual before you start writing?

Not so much before, but by this point I basically have to have a mug of tea (or occasionally some other non-water beverage) or I can't write. The way I get myself to write regularly, whether I feel like it or not, is to make myself a hot cup of tea and reward myself with a sip after each paragraph I write. That way, I have to keep writing so I can finish the whole mug before it gets cold. Then, if I'm not in the middle of a thought or not quite feeling it, I can allow myself to stop writing when I finish my tea, and still have accomplished something.

Are you thinking of publishing this story?

Yes, but I'm not sure exactly how I'd want to do it. I'm not really interested in traditional publishing anymore, but I'd have to do a lot of research before I'd be ready for self-publishing either. I don't really care about making money from my writing, I just want to be able to share it with people. Not that I have any manuscripts that are ready for public consumption anyway ^^'

What things have you learned while writing this story?

This might sound kind of weird, but The Ambassadors taught me (or at least reassured me) that I have good ideas that can be turned into a great story. You have to understand, I almost always write with some level of collaboration with someone else. For most of my growing-up years, my brother and I would develop my story ideas together. For something to go into a story, it would have to be something both of us agreed was a good idea. Even now, as an adult, most of my biggest stories, whether original or fanfiction, have been either co-written or at least have significant impact by another from beginning to end.

But when I sat down to actually write a whole dragon rider novel, I decided I wasn't going to show it to my brother until it was complete. I posted it on a forum as I wrote it, and took note of the feedback I got on it, but most of that was fairly minor. They were reacting to a scene that had already been written, rather than helping me come up with the ideas before I wrote them. Everything that happened, all the characters and all the twists and turns of the plot, were first and foremost my ideas.

And...people liked it! More importantly, I was able to pull a lot of thoughts and ideas together that I thought were cool and fun, and I made a whole story that was just how I wanted to write it. It was the first time I'd been able to do that with minimal outside influence, and it gave me a lot of confidence. I have good taste, I'm amassing more and more experience with every day, and yes - I can write a good story with characters that people like and a plot they enjoy, and it all came from my own head.

Now to just...do that again in draft 2 ^^'

Tagging @dairogo, @rainintheevening, and @sailforvalinor - specifically for your original writing.

What's your WIP?

Tagged by lemorganauthor.wordpress.com

Has your WIP a working title? If so, tell us! If not, have you any idea of what it might be?

The series title is Until Monday.

Have you a synopsis for your WIP? If so, give it to us! If not, can you give us a blurb on what your WIP is about?

I know the sequence of events, but I have a blurb for the first volume only.

To the silver-tongued officer, the voyage is a comfortable situation, not to be questioned. To the flint-hearted signaller, it is a nice puzzle - and, perhaps, a stepping stone. The loquacious young beauty finds it a dull imposition. The tall dark one regards it as a second honeymoon. And as for the man in the red chequered vest, he goes to it as to his own grave.

None of them - not even the sailor Beaufort - knows the full truth.

Their bark is the port of Jamestown. Poor weather is expected. Yet they cannot imagine what storm awaits them...

So. As to what the series is about, it's about more than any sane person could ever hope to chew and yet here I am. I don't claim sanity.

Have you a working/mock cover for your WIP? If so, show us! If not, have you an idea in mind?

Just three of the thirteen, and I'm a writer, not an artist.

The first volume will show the people mentioned above gathered around a crouched stone lion in the darkened corridor of an art gallery in such a way as to suggest the form of the chimera. The second will portray the Shaw building as though it is not by a riverbank, but caught in a tempest at sea. The thirteenth... that will just be a blue manila envelope tied up in a thin red ribbon. You really don't need frills there.

How did you get the idea for this story?

...A long process of osmosis and marination, followed by people asking me to write this story, never knowing what they asked. I never would have set out to do it, I will tell you that.

Actually. After some consideration, I have to credit the Chad Mitchell Trio for having "Your Friendly Liberal Neighborhood Ku Klux Klan" ready when I was out playlist-hunting, thereby unwittingly bringing into being a villain of whom I said, at the conclusion of a literal ballad:

In retrospect, it was sort of inevitable that I would try to write it in the end, huh.

How long do you think it will be? Is it longer or shorter than you thought it would be?

Thirteen volumes. It was fourteen not long ago, but the original volume five is pretty reasonably folded into the two on either side. But before that, it was volume one. A one-shot. Until everyone I showed it to wanted sequels and my traitor brain decided to oblige.

Who’s your favourite character so far?

I really am fond of Mac, with his roots down to bedrock and his chest filled with Celtic Passion. Which is good, as he's the protagonist I've chosen. But the group dynamics are the best part. I'll select Higgs, Barton and Fletcher, as that throughline has got a particularly striking ring to it. Plus all three of those characters are, strictly speaking, you know, mine.

What’s your favourite memory related to this WIP?

Early days! No time to record fond memories! Must write!

Any special person(s) who helped create it?

My specialized advisor. You know who you are. Also James D. Horan, for the central conceit of volume five.

What’s your favourite scene so far (if you can tell about it without spoilers!)?

This is a story in which most of the cool scenes are to some degree spoilers. So, let's go the whole hog: the climax of volume twelve. I honestly believe it is a payoff worthy of the setup, which. Those of you who are clear on what I'm writing here. I might be insane?

Can you give us a snippet?

All I have to hand on mobile is volume one. From that, a comparatively light exchange I am rather fond of:

(I think the wife has the right of this one.)

Is the story still what you thought it would be or has it thrown you a couple curveballs?

Apart from the curveball of this series existing, the only major refinement has been as regards what falls within the necessary parameters I need for volume twelve.

Is there a Bible verse, poem, hymn, picture, or quote that helped shape this story?

The Picture on the Wall by Henry Clay Work is only a little bit Christian, but its role in the formation of this story has been colossal. Once to Every Man and Nation has a smaller part, but I would still call it major. And volume four is subtitled The Trials of Job for a reason.

When and where have you done most of the writing so far?

In longhand on the commute, and at home on a pointedly offline PC. Both for rough drafting, but only the latter for finishing it off.

Where do you get inspiration for this story?

I am telling you I am getting it through my pores and behind my back. But reading a bunch certainly helps.

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Call me about 70% plot. I definitely know where it's going, but I don't want to know most of the fine details till they're on the page.

Do you have a little ritual before you start writing?

I play one track from the following playlist on shuffle:

Are you thinking of publishing this story?

Wouldn't you?

What things have you learned while writing this story?

Three most recent: the old practice of "Saint Mondays"; important geographical notes; the habitat of Larix decidua decidua.

More broadly: I believe I have finally learned to tell the difference between an image to crystallize the story around and an image that just doesn't fit and will break the story if you try it. Similarly: the bone-deep wisdom that supporting characters are their best selves when they stay in their lane.

Tagged in turn: All my Fig Tree homegirls!

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 15) - Trouble In Paradise

Summary: The reader is enjoying settling into her newfound children’s book career and shares how important the bracelet she gave Jensen is to her. A rainy day allows the reader to enjoy her shift into motherhood despite all of the bumps that go with it. But not everything is smooth sailing for the happy couple...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,600ish

Warnings: language, angst, mention of past abuse, nightmares, major angst

A/N: Uh oh. Big uh oh. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

Two Weeks Later

“Honey bun,” sang Jensen as he stepped into your home office you’d set up in the small reading room in the house. “Must you work today?”

“I do occasionally have to work on that drawing thing,” you said. He pouted and laid out on the daybed, picking up a copy of the third book. “Give me another hour to finish with these pages.”

“Can I hang out and watch you draw?” he asked.

“Knock your socks off,” you said. You picked up your stylus again and went back to your pad, Jensen sitting up and watching from the other side of the room. “You can sit closer if you want.”

He got up and pulled over a chair, crossing his legs in it.

“I basically draw using my stylus and this pad and it shows up on my laptop screen,” you said.

“We could get you a better screen, like your own separate work computer. I know your stories are picking up a lot of steam.”

“I’m okay for now. All I need to do is finish illustrating this book and my five book deal is done and ready for print,” you said.

“Can I make a request?”

“I would love to put in a giraffe for Zepp but the story takes place in the woods,” you said.

“Baby giraffe? Maybe just in the background?” he asked.

You backed out of your current page and went to the last two where the foxes and wolves were playing with their friends. You tapped on a tree and erased it, sketching out a loose shape.

“Look up a giraffe for me?” you asked. He tapped away on his phone and pulled up a picture. “Thanks.”

You drew a picture of a rough giraffe, softening it some before adding colors.

“You’re really good at that,” he said.

“The characters are easy. Backgrounds can get boring,” you said. You went back to your original set of pages and worked quietly, Jensen watching carefully. “Yes?”

“Just wanna spend time with you is all,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Okay, baby,” you said. You worked for another hour, Jensen asking the occasional question but mostly staying silent and close by. After you sent off the pages for review you turned to him, Jensen offering a soft smile in return. “All set with work for the day.”

“Awesome,” he said.

“Where’s the munchkins?”

“A movie,” he said. You ran your fingers through his hair and he leaned into it. “Tell me a secret.”

“A secret? I don’t think I have too many of those left from you,” you said. He opened his eyes and looked at you through his lashes. “What?”

“You said you got this on vacation,” he said, holding up his wrist, the bracelet you’d put on him two weeks ago still there. “When we were down there, I was talking to Ray and he kinda implied it wasn’t just a souvenir.”

“I was upset that day when he bought it for me. It meant I was safe was all,” you said.

“How long after did your mom…”

“A few months. She went on bed rest after that trip.”

“Y/N, I know when you’re holding back, honey. I would never judge or tell anyone anything. You know that.”

“You got hurt because you lost someone and you got hurt and it sucks right? But it’s kinda like something happened and then you heal from it right?”

“Yeah…” he said. “What don’t I know?”

“You know how anxious you were to get in the car and drive down to the beach?” you asked as he nodded. “You’ve never been afraid of a person, Jensen. It’s like that feeling...but everyday and you’re expected to live your life normally when you constantly have that over your head.”

He was quiet, glancing past you as the room grew darker from some passing clouds outside.

“Canada wasn’t the first time you saw your father since you were adopted, was it,” he said.

“You wouldn’t believe what a good lawyer and shitty laws will do for a piece of shit like that,” you said.

“You were a kid.”

“With zero physical evidence. Everything was circumstantial. So he got out and he came to apologize or some bullshit and Ray decked him.”

“The more I learn about Ray, the more I like him.”

“My mom kicked him in the nuts.”

“I really like that woman,” he said. You smiled and he moved his chair closer, pulling you into his lap. “I don’t mean to make you talk about your dad. I was curious was all.”

He went to take off the bracelet when you put a hand over it.

“I don’t want to remind you of something bad, sweetheart.”

“Like I said, I was upset. Very upset and in public and I went down to the beach to try to hide away. Ray bought that for me and told me I was safe when he put it on me. All it means to me is that you’re safe.”

“What about you? What do you have?” he asked quietly. You cocked your head and moved your hand to rest over his chest. “Alright, sort of a dumb question.”

“Not dumb,” you said, trailing your fingers down his chest.

“Guess you’ll just have to stay as close as humanly possible.”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” you said.

“Do you have a restraining order against your father?”

“No but that’s only because Ray managed to get him kicked out of the country. He found some loophole law. He was born in the Yukon so technically he’s not American and he got him kicked back.”

“Scratch that. Ray is my new favorite person,” he said. “If only we could send him someplace we’ll never visit like...a deserted island. Or Hell.”

“I appreciate the thought but I’m not scared of him anymore,” you said. “I am however afraid our plans of lunch at the brewery are going to get rained out.”

“We can enjoy ourselves right here. I’ve never heard a complaint yet about my grilling.”

“You know what? I got the perfect idea.”

“Okay,” said Jensen, sliding the foil packet off the grill and onto JJ’s plate. You’d decided to have lunch on the grill, sitting out under the covered back patio off the playroom. It was pouring rain but you were plenty dry there. “Chicken, marinara sauce and cheese. Then we got chicken, ketchup and baby carrots for Arrow. Zeppy wanted to try barbecue sauce and onion which sounded good to me and then Y/N went for the salmon and lemon.”

You helped the twins open up their foil packets and get their food on their plates, dicing up the chicken for them before going to your own plate.

“Daddy,” said Zeppelin while he chewed on a big piece of chicken. Jensen hummed and worked on his own food. “Can we play race cars after lunch?”

“Sure,” he said, JJ shaking her head.

“I don’t wanna play cars,” she said. Zeppelin stared at her and his bottom lip wobbled. “You’re a cry baby.”

“JJ, that’s rude,” you said, Jensen glancing at you and nodding. “Apologize to your brother.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. 

“We’re gonna play cars after lunch and you’re welcome to join,” said Jensen. “Your brother goes along with what you girls want to play quite a bit so I think you can do the same for him.”

“I still don’t wanna play cars,” she mumbled.

“You play cars with the Padalecki boys all the time,” you said.

“Not little kid cars,” she said. “He doesn’t know how to play right.”

You saw Zeppelin getting upset again and sighed.

“There’s no wrong way to play,” you said. “Zepp’s littler than you. You gotta be the big sister and do what he wants sometimes.”

“Mom would have played dress up,” she grumbled. “Not stupid cars.”

“Enough,” said Jensen. “You’re old enough to know better.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Your brother wants to play cars. We played horses all morning long and you barely let him have a turn at that so like I said, we’re gonna play what he wants and you are welcome to join us but if you don’t want to, you can play something else,” he said. 

“Baby,” she said under her breath. Jensen didn’t catch it but you did.

“JJ you’re in timeout after lunch. Ten minutes,” you said. 

“I didn’t-”

“You just called him a baby. You want to make it fifteen?” you asked.

“You’re not my mom! You can’t give me timeouts,” she said.

“Half an hour now,” said Jensen. She stared at him and he shook his head. “Eat your lunch.”

Zeppelin spent half of it crying quietly and JJ barely touched hers before she was following Jensen inside. You threw your head back and sighed before you went inside to get some tissues. When you came back out Arrow was hugging him tightly.

“Let’s clean you up, buddy,” you said as you squatted down beside them. She let go of him and you wiped off his face and helped him blow his nose. “Feel better?”

“We can play dress up,” he said. You picked him up and hoisted him on your hip. 

“We’re gonna play cars. Arrow, do you want to play with us?” you asked. She smiled and nodded. “Hey how about you go wash your hands and then you can bring out the bucket of cars and we’ll play out here. How’s that sound Zepp?”

“Okay,” he said. Arrow went inside and you carried him around as you collected the trash and threw it in the bag you brought out. You tied it up and left it in the corner to put in the bin later before you you walked to the edge of the covered patio, rain coming down at a decent rate. “Y/N you’re my mom right?”

“I’m one of your moms,” you said. “I’m gonna adopt you that way everybody can know I am though.”

“Cool,” he said softly, resting his head on your shoulder. “Mom can we play in the rain?”

“Hear any thunder?” you asked. He shook his head. “See any lightning?”

“Nuh uh,” he said.

“Then we can play in the rain all you want,” you said. You walked out to the grass and spun around with him, getting a giggle out of him. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” he asked. You spun around again and he laughed.

“There it is again!” you said. He giggled and you spun around a few times until you were dizzy and took a seat. He hugged you and kissed your cheek as you noticed Jensen leaning against the post of the patio. He was smiling and you hopped up with Zeppelin, waving him around in the air until you were back under cover. You set him down and he ran over to Arrow, picking out his favorite cars from the bucket and handing her some. 

“Well that might have been one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen,” he said. 

“You took a picture, didn’t you.”

“Oh several,” he said. He glanced back at the twins and then at you. “It clicked for you just now didn’t it.”

“Being a mom? Yeah.”

“You didn’t look to me on how to discipline JJ and you made him feel better and you made him laugh. You went full mom there and I’ve kinda been waiting for that.”

“I know it’s just playing they’re arguing over but I just hate...there is so much of you in him,” you said.

“I know and that feeling will never go away but it means you love ‘em and loving them is my only requirement for us working so this was actually a really good thing.”

“Those two are so sweet,” you said.

“It’s the twin thing. Oh what fun we have to look forward to when they are teenagers and they lie to us for one another,” he chuckled.

“Yeah but I’ll take it. Did you really give her a half hour timeout?”

“Fifteen minutes. She needs to share more and he doesn’t like confrontation so he goes along with what she wants but it’s not her road or the highway.”

“She’s been a little…”

“I know. Since we told them about the engagement,” he said. “We gotta talk to her on her own.”

“Let me take a crack at her first?” you asked.

“You got a hunch?”

“I don’t think having a mom again is a problem. I think the idea of losing a mom again is.”

“That makes sense considering she was attached to your hip before all this.”

“I’m gonna go see if I can get to the bottom of this. Now go play cars,” you said. He kissed your cheek and you headed inside, drying off some with a towel in the laundry room before you went up to JJ’s bedroom. You knocked and cracked open the door, catching her splayed out on her bed. “JJ. Can we talk?”

She rolled and put her back to you. You sat down on the edge of her bed and took a deep breath.

“You know your brother did what you wanted all day. You have to share,” you said. She didn’t say anything and you lay back on the bed, turning your head. She rolled back the other way and you sat up. She rolled again and you tilted your head back. “JJ do you want me to be your mom?”

“No,” she mumbled. 

“Are you lying?” She didn’t move and you sat back, her face scrunched up. “Are you scared if I’m your mom something bad will happen to me?”

“I don’t want two dead moms,” she said. 

“I have two dead moms,” you said. She blinked her eyes open and sat up. “My first mom, I never met her. She died giving birth to me.”

“You only had a dad when you were born?” she asked. You nodded and pulled her into your lap. “Did he get married again?”

“No. My dad was very mad my mom died. He took that out on me. He was a bad guy. He went to jail and I got adopted by my mom when I was your age. Ray was her boyfriend. He acted like he was my dad in a lot of ways. I was sixteen when my mom died. I understand it hurts, sweetie, and that it’s scary and you don’t ever want to feel like that again.”

“I thought if I was bad you and daddy wouldn’t...and then I don’t have to feel bad again.”

“I am so sorry honey but you can’t stop that feeling from never coming back. The only way you could not get it would be to not love anyone or anything and that’s not a life at all. It’s the price you pay for loving someone. Your mom was an accident. But Daddy is young and I’m even younger and I promise you will not have to feel that way about me for a very, very long time.”

“How long?”

“How about fifty years?”

“Fifty years? That’s forever,” she said. 

“I’ll give you fifty years if I can be your mom and you stop picking on Zepp. Deal?”

“Okay. I’m sorry I made him cry.”

“I’m not the one that needs an apology,” you said. “Now do you want stay in here all by yourself or do you want to come play with us?”

“I can play?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” you said. You got up and carried her down on your back, setting her down to let her run off out to the porch. Jensen got up from his seat and held up a finger, ducking back inside to where you were.

“That’s what I like to see,” he said as she gave Zeppelin a hug and he handed her a car.

“I did have to promise not to die for fifty years.”

“Fifty? You got off easy. I had to promise a hundred after the accident,” he chuckled. “I should have noticed she was scared.”

“I have more experience being a scared little girl than you do. I got experience with letting people get close again too,” you said.

“How’s that working out for ya?” he smirked.

“He’s lucky he’s hot,” you said. He threw his arm over your shoulders and grinned. “Do you want to get married in the fall?”

“This fall?” he asked.

“Can we pull it off that fast?” you asked.

“Yeah. We don’t have to book a venue which is the hardest part. I don’t see why not. What’s the rush?” he asked.

“It’s easier to adopt them if we’re married,” you said. “I don’t really want to wait longer than we have to if that’s alright.”

“I’d say let’s go drive down to city hall and get a justice of the peace right now if I knew my mother wouldn’t kill me for it. How about I call up the lawyer and ask him to start prepping the paperwork as if we already were so it’s all set to go,” he said.

“You have a lawyer?” you asked. “They’d do that?”

“Y/N, honey. My taxes alone frighten me not to mention I own a business with employees and what qualifies as a business write off still confuses me and wait you don’t have a lawyer for your book deal?”

“Should I have one?” 

“Greg is your lawyer now,” he said. “He’s good. He’ll do all the paperwork for us.”

“Oh good cause all the forms online were confusing the hell out of me,” you said. He shook his head and pulled you in close. 

“Silly goose,” he said, a loud boom of thunder shaking the house. “Let’s get the crew inside before it pours.”

“Who wants to build a fort?” you asked that afternoon. JJ jumped up and down on the couch and Jensen walked in with an arm full of blankets and sheets. Three little hands shot up and Jensen lazily tossed the blankets on the couch, covering the three of them.

“Hm, where’d those three munchkins run off to…” he said, Arrow ducking her head out first, hair all in her face. Jensen giggled and she rolled her eyes, the other two climbing out. “Alright. I’m gonna grab clothes pins and a few more things. You guys start designing.”

You stood back and let JJ organize, figuring out her first choice of blanket for a roof was too small. Jensen returned with a bag of clips, some twine and the step ladder, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder.

“How they doing?” he whispered.

“Picking out the roof,” you said, Arrow rushing over and grabbing his hand as Zeppelin climbed on JJ’s back and held up a sheet over the two of them with one hand. You smirked and she let out another eye roll.

“Daddy, can you pick up Zeppy so then he can put the blankie up? I told them they’re too small,” she said.

“Sure,” he said. “Tell me where you want it to go.”

Twenty minutes later the family room was covered with sheets, tied off to the stairs, chairs, the ceiling fan after Jensen broke out the larger ladder to get up there and assured you it wouldn’t bring the whole thing crashing down. 

“Can we sleep in here tonight?” asked JJ. 

“I don’t see why not,” you said. “There’s plenty of room on the couch. We’ll bring down your comforters when it’s bedtime,” you said.

“Can we watch Cars?” asked Zeppelin, glancing at JJ. 

“Okay,” she said. She gave him a hug and picked him up, Jensen smiling to himself as he looked on.

“Can we get pizza for dinner like a real sleepover?” asked Arrow. 

“We did cook up all the chicken at lunch,” you said, giving Jensen a side eye.

“Yeah we’ll get one,” he said. “Why don’t you turn on your movie okay? We’ll be right there.”

You let Jensen pull you into the kitchen, smirking as he picked you up and sat you on the counter.

“Seems like today’s crisis has been averted,” you said.

“I’m sure they’ll go back to tormenting each other tomorrow but I’ll take it,” he said, reaching into the drawer next to you, pulling out a menu. “So. You interested in pizza?”

“Oh that looks interesting,” you said, taking the pamphlet out of his hand and tapping at a special. “One cheese, one speciality, boneless wings and garlic bread? My little carb loving heart is in love.”

“She’s not the only one,” he said, leaning up on his tip toes and kissing you. 

“Are you coming?” groaned JJ from in the fort. You shook your head and Jensen kissed your neck, even nibbling before he pulled back. You smacked his chest and he set the menu down, giving you a wink.

“We’re coming in right now. Don’t wait for us kiddo.”

You woke up sweating, Jensen shushing you, arms wrapped around you. You took a deep breath and caught the clock said it was almost three. You turned in his arms and buried your head in his chest, his hand rubbing up and down your back.

“You’re okay. Bad dream is all,” he said softly. You nodded and started to relax, flinching when there was more thunder. “Hey, it’s okay. Nothing’s gonna get ya.”

The thunder shook the house and you tensed up. Jensen pulled the covers over both your heads and you crammed in as close as humanly possible when more thunder hit.

“Honey look at me. Please look at me.” You lifted your head and saw a horrible face in front of you, a scream ripping out of your throat.

“Y/N,” you heard as you woke up absolutely drenched, Jensen’s hands on your face. “Honey, talk to me. Can you hear me?”

“Night terror,” you said quietly. 

“Yeah, JJ used to have them. I didn’t know adults could get them,” he said. 

“Can I have a cold washcloth? And some water?” you asked. He got out of bed and padded into the bathroom in his boxers, settling back into bed and handing you the water. You drank it down while he wiped off your face and neck, running it over your head. “Thanks.”

“You okay?” he asked. 

“Mostly feel embarrassed.” He frowned and you put the glass on your nightstand, staring down at your sweaty shirt. 

“Should I call Ray?”

“It was a stupid nightmare. I’m fine,” you said.

“You were sat up eyes wide open and talking and shouting and I couldn’t wake you up,” he said. “I know adults really shouldn’t be getting night terrors so maybe something triggered you or something during the day.”

“I know my triggers and I know when it’s just a stupid nightmare. Back off,” you said. You got out from under the hot covers and went outside to the balcony, the air nice and cool from the storm earlier. The slide of the door was loud in the the quiet and you rubbed your arm. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve seen you have nightmares. That was a lot worse,” he said.

“I thought I saw someone watching the house earlier.”

“What?”

“It was the neighbor’s kid, the teenager. It was his friend and he came over late but I thought...it freaked me out. That on top of thinking about the fact my father is not rotting in a jail cell most likely sent me over the edge,” you said. He walked in front of you, resting his hands on your arms. “I’m okay. Needed some air was all.”

“Alright. Tell me if something like that happens again?” he asked. You hummed and he gave you a kiss. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s head on back to bed.”

“What do you mean?” you growled into the phone the next evening. Jensen lifted his head from his book in the family room and you walked away, stepping out to the private patio area on the side of the house. “That’s not possible.”

“It’s been fifteen years. He has every legal right to be in the country.”

“In the country! He got an apartment seven minutes from where I live!” you said. “I have little kids here, Finn. Tell me there’s something I can do.”

“I can get a restraining order-”

“That doesn’t mean shit to him. I need him fucking deported. I need him gone.”

“Y/N, you know me. I have never agreed to it but he paid his debt as it was assigned and he quietly followed the law. He did what he was supposed to and I’m sorry but until he does something, I can’t do anything besides help you and your fiance’s family get a restraining order.”

“So until he does something horrible again, I can’t do anything about it.”

“Y/N.”

“No Finn. I appreciate the heads up but...I have to go.”

You hung up and squeezed your phone tight. He knew where you lived. He was minutes away and there was absolutely zero help until something went wrong. You sat on a bench and bounced your leg. Nothing could go wrong. You couldn’t let anything go wrong. Who knew what the son of a bitch would do to any one of them.

You stopped bouncing your leg just as you heard the door open. You lifted your head and stood, spinning around to Jensen standing there.

“Everything alright?”

“Actually no.”

“Who was on the phone?”

“My ex,” you said, swallowing. You crossed your arms and thought of the things Jensen had told you about acting and getting in character and all that. You were gonna destroy him. Fuck you were going to end up shattering him into a thousand pieces he’d never put back together. 

You couldn’t really lie just to keep them away from him, could you? 

You saw Arrow run past in the house and made your face hard. Broken heart but safe kids was worth it.

“I thought you didn’t talk to him anymore,” said Jensen. You turned up your chin and he smiled. “You are the worst actress in the world. Who was it really?”

“I think we’re moving too fast and I want to take a break and I would appreciate it if you gave me my space to figure this out on my own.”

“Uh, what?” he said. You brushed past him and he followed you in, all the way up to your bedroom. You got out a bag and he flipped it shut. “What the hell is going on? Who was on the phone?”

“My boyfriend,” you said. He stared at you and you sighed. “You’re a great guy but I’m sorry. I can’t do the house and kids thing. I want to go see the world and not be tied down and you’re just...you’re too damn old for me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Maybe you should have trusted your first instincts when you saw me and Doug,” you said. He stared at you while you shoved some clothes in a bag. You slung it over your shoulder and he caught the backside of it. You took off your ring and put it on the table by the door, Jensen dropping his hand. “I just can’t do this anymore. It wasn’t you. I’m sorry. I really need to go.”

______

A/N: Read Part 16 here!

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Moment In Time

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Just when you've gotten out, you’re given a reason to come back.

Warnings: Nothing for now unless I missed something.

Chapter 1

* * * * * * *

Music plays in your ears as the surrounding area blurs past you. Taking yet another lap around the overly large fountain, you feel the smallest drop of sweat trickle down the side of your head.

Running for two and a half hours seems to finally be yielding results.

You slow down some and a quiet, sarcastic, chuckle falls from your lips when another group of joggers passes by. They’d gotten here an hour ago and they were practically dripping sweat.

With a shake of your head you finish the lap in a matter of minutes, stopping afterwards and taking your headphones out. You take a few deep breaths as you look around.

The New York sky is as blue as it always is this time of year. People stroll by about a yard from where you stand, the streets and sidewalks bustling as usual, a few other runners on the same trail you just took.

A contented sigh leaves your lips.

For the first time in years, a calm peace washes over you. It’d taken you years to come to the decision to stop working, followed by a few months to mentally settle into your “retirement” as you’d been told it was.

The world doesn’t exactly need you anymore, earth’s mightiest heroes are doing all the saving and protecting now. Some of them you trust with your life while others you haven’t even met. All in all, you believe they’ve been getting the job done fairly well. Which made your retirement all the more easy.

If not working feels like this, you take another deep breath, you could get used to it.

Adjusting your headphones back into your ears, you barely jog three feet into your next lap when your phone rings. Fishing it out of your pocket, you sigh at the name displayed at the top and answer.

“Agent Y/Ln,” Fury’s voice floats into your ears,“ I need a favor.”

Just like that, you get the feeling you aren’t going to have the chance to get used to retirement.

* * * * * * *

Another uniformed guard walks by, his eyes glancing over at the two people in the cell, before he continues his leisure stroll down the hall.

The brunette archer runs his tongue across his bottom lip, eyes narrowing just barely before yet another pebble flicks across the cell and bounces off the wall right beside the ear of an already agitated ex-assassin.

“Barton, I swear to god if another rock comes within a foot of my face I will kill you before these morons even have the chance to consider it.” Natasha seethes, jaw clenching in frustration.

Clint snorts to hold in a laugh, raising his hands in surrender.“ My bad.”

Sighing heavily for the millionth time today, Natasha leans her head back against the cement wall, fingers gingerly running over the uncomfortable matching cement floor.

“You sure you don’t wanna play finger football with me?” He asks, flicking a triangular piece of paper towards his friend.

“Clint what the h-” she glares from him to the paper then back,“ where did you even get that?”

Letting his amused smile show, he answers,“ my pocket,” with a casual shrug,“ never know when you’re gonna get captured by psychotic evil German scientists.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the red head holds in every noise of frustration and foul word in her arsenal. She already can’t believe she allowed herself to get captured, Clint’s incessantly childish behavior is only adding to her bad mood.

A mere eight hours ago she’d been on a very easy mission with her team. Infiltration and intel gathering was a form of work she was overly familiar with, having done it before and during her time with SHIELD and the Avengers.

But with a new recruit on the team, and this having been his first infiltration mission, figuratively communicative wires got crossed.

A simple “payload secure” came across as something different in Sam’s ears, what he heard she can’t even try to guess, but it led to him coming her way with a shit load of guards. Disgruntled sounds of fighting drew Clint to their location but even then the amount of enemies was overwhelming.

Distress calls were cut short and staticy through the short communication devices they had. So, being the only one with a clear and easy route out of the chaos, Sam was given the task to get out while he could and to send back up.

The seconds after he left, Natasha and Clint were taken, blinded, stripped of their weapons and comms, and brought to this cell.

While they were aware of the rescue coming for them, they still looked for a way out but found none. Especially not with the rotation of guards that patrolled by every half hour. Like clockwork, another was headed their way.

The whistling of an all too American song rang through the halls, slipping into the cell and grabbing the attention of both agents.

Clint’s eyebrows pinch together when the guard stops in front of the cell, then turns to face them. His calculating gaze trails over their body while an equally observant Natasha looks as well.

She stares at the guard, a stone cold expression masking her face as she commits your appearance to memory. Your eyes, hair, the build of your body currently clad in the same blue uniform as the other guards. Something was different though.

While the guards came off as exactly what they are, lackeys for whoever is running this show, you are much bigger. The look on your face isn’t as submissive and blank as the others.

Clint scoffs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes scanning over you,“ what’re you? A new hire?” He asks sarcastically, deciding to speak as he knows Natasha won’t say a word.“ Send you in to intimidate us?”

A silent moment passes.

“Buddy, you think I’m the bad guy?” You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow. A little chuckle leaves your lips at the confused expression he pulls and the one Natasha tries to hide.

Taking a step closer to the cage, you slip your arms between the cast iron bars and lace your fingers together.“ I’m here to save your asses. Since you went and got yourselves captured.”

For the first time Natasha speaks, a velvety soft voice flowing from the cement box into your ears,“ who sent you?”

Her green eyes look into yours and that, coupled with her voice, intrigues you even more. Seeing as you are more than aware of who Black Widow is. But you know now isn’t the time to fall into a gay panic over a gorgeous woman.

“Fury.” You answer,“ it’s not often Nick calls in a favor so I had to come. Now, let’s say we get out of here yeah?” They both watch as you grab hold of the bars, pulling one good time, arms flexing as you easily break the lock and send the door sliding open and slamming into the wall.

Clint and Natasha share a look as you step inside, walking over to Clint and breaking his chains first, then going to do the same to Natasha.

You raise an eyebrow at her expression after breaking the first chain,“ listen red, you don’t have to trust me.” She stands up and looks down at you, until you rise up and look down at her.“ But you do need to trust Fury. Got any complaints, take it up with him after you’re not surrounded by a bunch of lunatics with guns.”

With that she watches you exit the cell, looking left and right, then waving them forward as you go left down the corridor.

The two agents follow you as you silently incapacitate every guard in your path, sharing a look for the third time today.

As you’re taking down your tenth guard, Clint looks from you to Natasha.“ Are we really supposed to believe they’re on our side? Cause,” he takes a deep breath and releases it.

“They’re trusted by Fury.” Natasha looks at her friend,“ and that’s all I need to know for now.”

Stopping in front of a door, you peek through the glass, then take a step back. You square your shoulders and adjust the cap on your head, smiling dazzlingly at the two.

“Do me a favor, wait around that corner,” you point to the opposite side of them where a dark empty pocket sits in the hallway,“ and try not to get captured again.” You wink and step into the room without another word.

They stare at the door you disappeared into, long enough to hear you speak.

“Wo sind die Gefangenen in Zelle 4 hingegangen?”

Natasha understood your words perfectly fine but Clint was a little lost. The short silence followed your continued shout of,“ Finde sie! Jetzt! Eile!”

Eyes wide Natasha grabs Clint’s hand and pulls them into the dark just before a slew of guards pour out of the room and down the same way you’d all just come from.

Clint and Natasha barely have a chance to blink before the door beside them opens. Sunlight streams through the door, followed by you coming out of the room.

“Figured you might want these back,” you say as you stop in front of them and hold their confiscated weapons out to them.

Clint is quick to sling his quiver around his shoulders, extending his bow and hugging it, a quiet ‘I missed you’ muttered under his breath toward the inanimate object.

A snort of a laugh leaves your lips before Natasha takes her batons from you and holsters them at her sides.

Taking your cap off, you toss it aside and smooth your hand through your hair.“ Cover was blown about thirty seconds ago so,” you nod to the outside,“ let’s get to that fancy jet you’ve got a few miles out before the fireworks start.”

Flashing another confident smirk, you slip out the door. The two agents follow closely behind you. All three of you work almost flawlessly in taking down the guards in your path to the jet.

It comes into view and you stop to let them run ahead of you, turning to look at the building as it seemingly spontaneously combusts in three specific locations.

Satisfied with your work, you nod and turn around. Almost all eyes are on you as you jog up the ramp into the jet. A silent crunch is heard before you toss crumpled plastic and wires out of your hand.

“Can’t have them tracing that back to us.” You say, stepping fully into the jet and looking around as the door closes behind you.

Stern blue eyes stare into yours, an almost upset march carrying him to stand in front of you.“ If there’s anyone alive.” He says angrily.“ Did you stop to think how many people you may have just killed?”

Your eyebrow quirks up at his tone of voice. Trailing your eyes down his body you mentally purse your lips and nod. Admittedly you could see why Peggy was so smitten. Assuming he didn’t take this type of attitude with her.

However you can’t say you’re taken with the Captain America. His already condescending attitude wasn’t something you liked and while you know it’s a possibility he’s just this way cause you don’t know each other, it’s also possible he’s just an ass. Either way he isn’t why you’re here.

“Captain,” you nod,“ always thought our first meeting would be more pleasant than this. But aye, they say you’re never supposed to meet your idols right.” You shrug and step around him, making to head to the front of the jet.

Only his hand grips your arm and he spins you around with a glare now on his flawless looking face.

Glancing down at the offending hand on your arm, you figure he’s nonverbally demanding an explanation so you give it.“ There were charges at both entrances and the security room. I made sure to send everyone away from those areas before I blew it up. There may be some minor injuries, if that. But next time I’ll just leave and give them every opportunity to come after us, Captain.” You tell him, gripping his hand in yours and prying it from your arm.

His glare turns to a slight look of surprise. While his grip hadn’t been enough to hurt an ordinary human, yours was equal to, if not potentially stronger, than his true strength. Enough force to have broken anyone else’s hand in multiple places.

“Who are you?” He asks, maintaining his attitude.

Not one for dealing with that, you mumble your name to him and go to the front of the jet.

Your blank face morphs into a smile at the sight of the man in the pilot's seat.“ Never was one to give up control huh?” You ask teasingly as you drop your hand on his shoulder.

His gaze lands on you with a quick snap of his head towards you. The smirk on your face and the fact that it was actually you, made him snicker.

Making quick work of throwing the jet on autopilot, he moved his chair back and stood up to pull you into a hug, to the shock and surprise of every member of his team.

“Good to see you T.” You pat his back before pulling away.

A smile tugs on his lips and he nods.“ Ditto. This doesn’t count by the way.” He points a finger at you as you clap your hand on his shoulder.

“It definitely counts. A save is a save. Might not have been you exactly but-”

Waving you off he mumbles,“ yeah yeah.” Then looks at his teammates, his arm wrapping around your shoulders despite the height difference.“ I take it you met the team.” He says to which you nod.

“Can’t say they’re all that fond of me.” You chuckle softly, eyes scanning over the still agitated Captain America, a man in a modified flight suit, and the two people you just saved.“ Are they always so annoyed when they get their asses saved or is it me?”

Tony shrugs,“ Capsicle always been a little icy.” He jokes and you laugh, shaking your head and pushing him away from you.“ Nat is- well she’s Nat. I think she’s starting to warm up to me but that’s taken quite a bit of time hasn’t it Romanoff?”

His gaze directs to the redhead and you follow it. Your eyebrow raises at the mocking smile she gives Tony followed by her asking,“ who exactly is Y/n and how do you know each other?”

Both you and Tony glance at each other and you take the liberty of answering her question. Speaking to her directly gives you the chance to truly look into her green eyes, which you must admit you find very beautiful.

A range of emotions flicker over everyone’s faces as you dip your toe into your long complicated past. You simplify your back story, only telling them that you met Tony his family, that you’re a super soldier, created after Steve went into the ice, and that you’ve been a part of SHIELD for a while.

There were many questions thrown your way and you heavily debated with yourself whether or not you wanted to tell them everything. You didn’t think it’d hurt to be a little mysterious. But there’s also the thought that you won’t be seeing these people much anyway so does it truly matter if they know who you are.

Whatever decision you’d come to ceased to matter as the jet landed. The door opened and your eyes raised to read the words written across the top of the building.

“Avengers?” You mumble, glancing at your long time friend/brother. He makes that face, that “what’re you gonna do” nonchalant face Tony always makes. With a shake of your head, you follow him inside, but instead of going with him towards the hallway, you b-line for the elevators.

Tony’s voice calls out to you, effectively grabbing the attention of his teammates,“ not joinin us Y/nn?”

You look back over towards him, your eyes landing on Natasha’s green ones first then on Tony. Smiling a little you shake your head,“ debriefing isn’t for retirees, Stark.”

Natasha frowns at your words and Tony shakes his head with a breathy chuckle.

All of you turn away from each other, them heading to the meeting room and you facing the elevator as the doors slide open.

“Agent, glad you could stick around for the debrief.” Fury says, making you frown and shake your head.

“No no,” you raise a finger, essentially telling him to hold up.“ I’m not an agent. Retired, remember.”

He stops walking to look back at you. Tilting his head, he raises his eyebrow,“ that was until today. I believe you did some work, seeing as Natasha and Clint are back.”

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you drop your head, groaning lowly,“ Nick please. You know-”

“That you’re on your way to the meeting room. Glad to hear it.” Leaving no more room to talk, he turns and walks away, breezing past the few Avengers who’d stayed behind to watch the interaction.

Grumbling under your breath, you follow after the man. Tony slaps his hand onto your shoulder, a small amused smirk on his lips as he guides you to the meeting room.

With a, in your opinion, justified glare directed at Fury, you plop down into a chair. The man snorts at the huff you let out, averting his eyes to everyone else who comes in.

To your surprise and silent pleasure, Natasha ends up occupying the chair on your other side. When her eyes land on you, you give a small smile and wiggle your fingers in a short wave.

Her eyes narrow at you and you wink. She just barely lifts a brow at the way your face morphs from one of amusement to a no nonsense expression.

You straighten up in your seat, fingers lacing together and resting on the table as your gaze focuses on Fury.

Natasha finds it a bit of a struggle to take her eyes off of you. Since the second she saw you back in Berlin she hasn’t been able to get a clear read on you.

“Romanoff, can I have your attention?” Fury tilts his head and looks directly into Natasha’s eyes.“ Or is that too much to ask?” His tone takes a sassy turn and the redhead rolls her eyes, focusing on him.

The debriefing goes exactly how everyone is used to it going. They go over the original objective of the mission, then everyone gives a run down of what happened: the part they played, how they contributed to the objective, and in this case how things went south.

“Y/Ln,” Fury says, making Natasha’s gaze snap over to you. Had you been looking at her, you would’ve seen the surprise flicker through those green orbs.

“Director,” you nod in reply before going into detail about your infiltration into the German base and the extraction of Natasha and Clint.

All while you talk, Natasha looks at you. You, Agent Y/n Y/Ln. She can’t believe she didn’t connect the dots. Fury sent you in. You’d told her your name. She should’ve seen it. Everyone at SHIELD knows who you are. A lot of people outside of SHIELD know about you as well.

Your explanation of who you were in the quinjet wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. She didn’t think this often of someone but: you are a legend.

“- things considered,” Natasha regains focus on the conversation, looking away from you to Fury as you speak,“ the mission could’ve gone off flawlessly.”

The man crosses his arms and shifts his weight,“ and what would you say the problem is Agent?”

“Underestimation sir. Or maybe misinformation.” Your response is a bit of a shock to everyone. You take their silence as an opportunity to further explain. You thought it was simple.

The mission was to grab intel from a science lab. As to be expected, the scientists and information there would be guarded. The underestimation or misinformation came in how heavily guarded the place was. Whatever surveillance or recon they had done wasn’t enough. So when they went in to collect they were overwhelmed or caught off guard which resulted in Natasha’s and Clint’s capture.

Everyone takes your words in stride, majority of them processing it and storing it for a time in which they’ll need to use it.

Shortly after that the debriefing ends with a few, what you know is meant to be taken as, encouraging words from Fury. Everyone stands after he’s left, starting to file out.

Once again as you make to leave, Tony stops you. He slaps your arm and you know he’d used as much force as he could behind the action.

Used to this from him, you sigh and shake your head, a small amused smirk on your lips as you look at him.“ What is it now Tony?”

He smiles at you,“ why don’t you hang out for a bit. Haven’t seen the tower yet.” You raise your eyebrow at him, gaze flicking to the redhead that walks past behind him, her eyes on you for a second before she looks away. Smile turning into a smirk he adds,“ you might just find a reason to stick around.”

* * * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers @yumusak-yastik

[tumbledfreckles]

Absolutely!

She should not be doing this. She knows she should not be doing this. She'd been warned against doing this.

But really, Quidditch practice ended half an hour ago. Surely he would have cleaned up by now. Right?

Hope this works! <33

This has not been edited, and it should have been edited, but screw it, I loved this prompt, I've stayed up way past bed time to write it, I wrote 1800 words instead of the 500 I planned, so have it in it's unedited glory and don't judge me too harshly. It's late, but its shirtless James Potter May or Jumpers off for June or really, just a thirst trap drabble to get your week going well.

Lily knocked softly on the door to the locker rooms, her breath caught in her throat, a thrum of anxiety running in her veins. When there was no sound, no answering call, no bid to enter, she paused for only moments, before biting her lip and pushing on the door handle.

She should not be doing this.

Her footsteps were quiet as she made her way down the long corridor that led to the locker rooms. Doors of the unoccupied rooms were shut, her finger tips dragged against the names of each team as she went. Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and then finally, at the very end, Gryffindor. Unlike the others, this door was set slightly jar, light seen through the gaps, but no sounds emerged. The team had clearly departed.

She knows she should not be doing this.

Lily gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath as she pushed open the door, wide enough for her to slip through. It closed gently after her, allowing her to lean back against it, hands still caught on the handle behind her. She clutched the handle for dear life, knowing she should turn it and go back through. Knowing that to go further into the room was a boundary she shouldn’t cross.

She’d be warned against doing this.

As expected, the locker room was at least empty. She’d never been in here before, not being on the team, and never before having anyone she’d wanted to follow into the abyss. The reality was as bad as Lily had imagined. Likely due to the graces and actions of the house elves, it was cleaner than expected. There were no used towels piling around, no dirty, soiled uniforms discarded. The walls were filled with posters and pictures of Gryffindor Quidditch teams throughout the years. Banners and scarves lined the players' open lockers, caught on the name plates fastened above each one.

Almost as soon as she noted the name plates, her eyes caught on one in particular. A name that had fallen from her lips more often than her own had this year. A name that used to come out with derision, but was now pronounced with warmth, with feeling, with an unexplainable but inexplicable feeling of joy. The locker below it was the least orderly of them all, clothing still hung on the hooks, shoes and boots underneath the bench seat in front of it. Shin guards and pads and flying goggles still littered the bench and shelf.

The captain himself was nowhere to be found however. The sound of running water drew her attention to another doorway, at the far end of the locker room. Steam poured out of that room, leaving Lily in doubt that it was the way to the showers. Somewhere she definitely shouldn’t be going. She could wait out here for him. She only wanted to check on him, close the loop on their earlier conversation. She felt guilty for leaving him hanging, but that was no reason to follow him into the showers, surely.

But, really, Quidditch practise ended half an hour ago. Surely, he would have cleaned up by now. Right?

With that solid, solid reasoning ringing in her brain, spurring her on despite a wealth of misgivings, Lily moved forward. Her heart was racing but her movements somehow remained slow, cautious.

“Potter?” she called at the doorway.

No answer came.

Lily shook her head, cheeks already turning red as she contemplated her next action seconds before completing it.

She was only two steps in when she pulled up short.

James stood under the shower, mere metres from where Lily herself stood. A low wall hid most of his lower anatomy, but his back was on full display. Water ran in rivulets over strong, broad, tanned shoulders. It drained off his elbows as James reached to scrub at his hair, a movement Lily had seen him do a million times across their seven years of schooling, but never when he was wet. Certainly not when he was otherwise naked. His back arched, showing the muscles down his spine, lifting the beginnings of the curve of his arse into view.

“Fuck,” Lily whispered, her mouth having gone completely dry.

Of course, while he hadn’t heard her earlier call, he heard her quiet swear. Or maybe he’d felt the weight of her entranced, intoxicated stare. Before Lily could remove herself from a situation she definitely shouldn’t be in, even if it was the most beautiful site she’d seen all day, all week, all year, James turned.

“Lil- Evans,” he said in surprise, jumping slightly, before shutting off the water and reaching for the towel resting on the edge of the wall. “What’s wrong?”

“Noth- shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”Lily started, taking a step back, only she missed the doorway and landed against the wall next to instead.

It really wasn’t her fault she couldn’t focus.

If James’ back with a gift of meticulously carved marble, smooth skin and muscle that Lily just wanted to sink her teeth into, then his front was a bloody work of art. Well defined pectorals sat prominently, on his chest, surrounded by curved shoulders, impressive biceps that helped his brilliant throws on the field. Pools of water had collected in the curve of his collarbones, enough that Lily could have lapped happily to ease her suddenly restricted throat.

She’d seen glimpses of his abdominals before. He was always reaching for his hair, running a hand through the beautiful, silky locks, she couldn’t help but get flashes as his shirt, or t-shirt, or jumper lifted up. Especially when he was already stretching back across the couch, complaining about the Prefect’s schedule, the points schedule, or the meeting schedule. Any schedule really, just because he knew it would rile her up. So she’d seen his stomach from time to time. Knew his prowess on the Pitch couldn’t come from someone who wasn’t totally fit. But seeing it glistening, rippling as he moved, shadows from the dimmed bathroom lighting emphasising each curve, well…

It was really more than one girl could be expected to take.

“Evans,” James tried again, frowning as he finished wrapping a towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower area toward her. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Lily tried not to focus on how the twisted knot of the towel sat dead centre below his navel. How it drew the eyeline down. How the muscles in his sides pointed down like an arrow toward that knot, making her wonder what was underneath the knot.

“Uh,” Lily forced her eyes up. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you.”

She pretended not to notice how droplets collected on his eyelashes, so much easier to see without his glasses. How his face was devoid of its usual smirk, concern etched across his face instead, furrowing his brow, straightening his smile.

“Sure,” James glanced around, “I was coming back to the castle, you could have waited.”

“I couldn’t,” Lily blurted, before she could stop herself. “I couldn’t wait.”

James quirked an eyebrow, but paused in his steps, now less than three steps from her. At this distance, she could smell him. He was perfumed by that familiar scent of pine and spice, but in the heat and the humidity of the room it surrounded her, consumed her. She tried to take a deep breath in, to focus and prepare herself, but all it did was allow the scent to overwhelm her.

“Well, have at it, Evans,” he encouraged. “I’m listening.”

“Well, before, earlier.. You, uh… you asked, well and I, you, I didn’t,” Lily sighed impatiently at her stuttering, rolling her eyes before realising that meant she couldn’t look at him. Tried to remind herself not to look at him, it was clearly too much to look at such a sight and string a sentence together. Much more of her blithering and he wouldn’t care for what she had to say, mad woman that she was.

“Still waiting, Evans,” James teased now, a small curve of his lips appearing now. He seemed to be realising what had her in such a fluster, and took another step forward. Within reaching distance. Touching distance.

“Oh, fuck it,” Lily breathed, and gave in.

There was no resistance as she reached out and snagged James by the hand, then his waist, then his neck. She tugged his head down, and it came easily until, with a final push on her toes, she crashed her lips against his. His mouth moved without hesitation, giving as good as he got, pushing her back into the wall with a satisfying oof, his teeth finding her bottom lip, pulling it until her mouth opened and the punishing kiss turned into something deeper, sweeter, more satisfying.

Lily’s hands threaded into his hair, before dancing down to shoulders, stroking along his chest. She couldn’t pick a place she wanted them to rest, so she just didn’t, and touched and admired and petted to her heart’s content. James didn’t appear to mind her cheek was cupped, her waist wrapped up with one of those delicious arms she’d admired. He was still warm from the shower, still damp from neglecting to dry off, and she could feel that heat pushing through her clothes, flattening them against her, allowing his touch to burn through to her needy skin.

Without meaning too, having not consciously thought the action through, Lily’s hand landed on the knot in the towel she’d been so focused on moments earlier. The action gave them both reason to pause, and James pulled back just enough as they panted for breath and stared at each other.

She’d never seen his eyes so black, the hazel almost completely hidden dilated pupils and a blazing fire that would have taken her breath, if only his lips hadn’t done the job already. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Lily’s eyes followed the movement closely, her newly acquired knowledge of the feel, the taste of his tongue, making her imagine in a way that was all too real, how it would feel if he did the same to her.

“You had an answer for me, Evans?” his voice was hoarse, husky, like he’d run a marathon in the seconds, minutes, that they’d been kissing.

“I hardly think it matters now,” Lily’s laugh was almost bitter as it escaped from her, as she pushed back wet hair from his forehead, brushing her thumb softly across the scar above his eyebrow.

“Tell me anyway,” his fingers brushed down her arm, tipped her chin up, catching her lips again for a brief but perfect kiss.

Lily sighed, kissed him again to stall, cupped his face with both her hands to make sure he was paying attention. She was only going to say this once.

“Yes, I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you next weekend.”

[mypoisonedvine]

You, Me, and Him | (dark)Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: the worst thing about the man who did this to you is that he’s convinced he isn’t the one who did this to you (or, brainscrambled bucky decides to keep the gift that the winter soldier left for him)

word count: 4k

warnings: smut (noncon), yandere-ish themes, stalking, kidnapping, very unstable/erratic bucky, slapping, creampie kink, praise

When you opened your eyes, you wondered why your room looked so strange.  What possible angle could you be looking at your ceiling from that it would be like this?

However, when you turned your head, you suddenly realized that you were not in your room at all.  The next thing you realized was that your hands were restrained— shackled, specifically, and suspended above your head.  Obviously, this realization shot ice-cold terror through your veins as you began to try to understand how you’d gotten here.  Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember going to sleep in your room: no, you’d been out shopping, in the middle of the afternoon.  Why couldn’t you remember anything after that?  

Your head spun when a door nearby opened, and the man that awaited on the other side brought it all back.

He was following me.  I tried to lose him, I turned a corner, but he was right there— and there was a syringe in his hand… and he must have—

“Oh my god,” the man gasped, “shit— are you okay?”

You stared at him in confusion, already starting to cry as you put two and two together about all this.  Generally, only one thing happened after a man drugged a woman and chained her to a wall.  The part that didn’t add up was the terror on his face as he rushed to you and knelt down in front of where you were lying— why was he worried about you?

“Oh no, oh nonononono,” he whimpered, mostly to himself, “oh god, I didn’t— this wasn’t… oh fuck.”

“Please let me go,” you started to plead between sobs, “I don’t know what you want, but I don’t have any money… I’ll give you whatever I have, I won’t tell anyone, just let me go, please—”

“No, no, no,” he shook his head quickly.  Either he wasn’t listening (bad) or he was denying your request (worse) and both possibilities just made you cry harder.  He, meanwhile, was rocking back and forth in front of you, covering his ears with his hands to muffle your cries.  “Oh god, what have I done, what have I done— what did I do?”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimpered.

“No, no, I won’t— I would never do that…” he sighed.  “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

You squinted as you tried to make out what that meant, sniffling as your crying subsided a little (mainly from being distracted by the confusion of it all).  “Do I… know you?”

He chuckled a little, scratching the back of his neck nervously.  “Uh, no, not really, I’m— my name is Bucky,” he explained, “I— you might have seen me on the news, but that wasn’t really me, that was this other guy—”

“Why did you do this to me?” you interrupted.

“No, see, that’s the thing: I didn’t do this to you.  It was… it was somebody else.  He’s… he’s in my head, and every once in a while he takes control and sort of does his own thing…”

Not that anybody who kidnaps somebody is totally right in the head, but this guy is certifiable.

“And he did this to you.  Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay,” he assured you, though it wasn’t comforting at all, “I’m not gonna hurt you, I would never— I won’t do that, okay?  I’m just gonna… I’m gonna let you go.”

You sighed with relief, although some voice in the back of your head told you not to trust him just because he seemed regretful.  Regardless of his strange excuses, this was still the man who kidnapped you.

“You don’t believe me,” he realized with an awkward smile.  “It’s okay, I understand.  I wouldn’t believe me either— god, I must sound crazy, right?  But I’m not crazy.  I don’t think…”

This time your sigh was less relief and more irritation.

“See, I was, uh, tortured.  Experimented on.  That was a long time ago, and I’m mostly over it, but this other guy— he’s a soldier.  I guess I am, too, but he’s… more on the war crimes side of things.  Like, assassinations and stuff.  That’s a whole other story…”

I think I’d prefer to hear that one.

“Anyways, sometimes I get sort of… messed up?  Up here?” he gestured to his head, leaning back to sit on the floor in front of you with crossed legs.  “Like, I can’t tell what year it is or how long it’s been since I’ve slept.  My psychiatrist says I’m ‘losing time’ and that it’s normal for people with… whatever it is that I have.  But it’s scary, you know?  Because I don’t know what I’ve done in that time.  So today, I woke up and had no idea how I got where I was—”

Same.

“And I came down here and… you’re here.  I didn’t… I didn’t do this, I can’t stress that enough.”

“So… this other guy…” you tried to understand, hoping that appealing to his twisted sense of logic would get him to tell you something actually useful, “he did this?”  Bucky nodded.  “Does he do this often?”

“What, kidnap women?  No this is… this is new.  As far as I know.”

“Why me?”

“Uh…” he stalled, looking away.  “God, this is sort of embarrassing, but… it’s probably because I sort of have this, um, crush on you…”

“You don’t even know me,” you mumbled.

“No, you don’t know me, but I… I know you,” he nodded confidently.  “Do you remember a few months ago when you went to that art gallery by your apartment?  It was raining that day, I couldn’t tell for sure if you came in to look at the art or if you were just trying to get out of the weather but, anyways, you had on this big puffy coat— ‘cause it was cold out— and you took off your hood and you just looked around… I saw you, cause I was in there to look at the art, too, and you looked so beautiful.”

You were getting anxious.  He said he would let you go but he hadn’t really made any progress on that goal.

“And I sort of followed you after that, and watched you— I mean, that sounds really bad, it wasn’t like that, I just… I just wanted to make sure you were safe and—”

“Let me go, Bucky, please,” you interrupted, getting more desperate.

He shook his head with a sigh.  “You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry… I just haven’t had anyone to talk to… you’re a good listener.”

Yeah, everybody’s a good listener when they’re tied up and forced to listen.

“Just let me finish my story and I’ll let you go.  I was kind of in the middle of something.  You know, it’s rude to interrupt people.”

Oh fuck.  You’d angered him.  It was subtle, but he was clearly irritated; he looked at the floor, and his jaw tightened a little.  It must have been that this candid talk made you forget he was unstable and that you needed to tread lightly.  You couldn’t afford another mistake like that.

“I’m sorry, Bucky, finish your story,” you offered.

“Okay,” he nodded, “well, anyways, when you came into the gallery you looked around for a while but there was one painting you kept looking at— do you remember it?” 

You shook your head.

“Really?  You must’ve stared at it for half an hour.  I swear I saw you tearing up a bit,” he smiled.  “Clearly it had an effect on you.  I wasn’t sure if you were considering buying it, or if it would make you upset to see it in your house every day, but the way you looked at it… it changed everything for me.  You smiled at me as you left, just a quick glance— I’m not offended that you don’t remember me just from that, if anything it’s good because it made it a lot easier to trail you, but… I knew then that you were such a kind, soulful person.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “I remember… I remember that.”

It was so cold out that the rain was nearly frozen.  You’d gone in to escape the elements, but one painting drew you in.  Someone else was there, a man that you remembered thinking was attractive but a little eerie with the way he just stood there, seemingly even more purposeless than you.  He smiled at you as you left, and you smiled back.  You were just trying to be friendly.  No good deed, though, right?

“Do you remember the painting?” he asked again, leaning in a little closer with innocent hope sparkling in his eyes.

“Yes,” you nodded, “it was… it was a woman, and she was looking away from the viewer, out over the water.  She looked sad, but determined, like she was thinking about something impossible to describe.”

He smiled wide then, apparently impressed by your description.   “Look,” was all he said as he pointed to the wall beside you— and as you turned your head, you gasped as you saw it: it was the painting, even more hauntingly beautiful than you remembered.  You started to cry again, because somehow it was this show of disturbed affection that made you more sure than ever that you weren’t going to get out of here.

“Don’t be scared,” he soothed, moving closer again and wiping the tears from your face gently.  “It’s gonna be alright.”

“Please let me go,” you whispered shakily, looking back at him, straight into his eyes, as if maybe you could find some sanity there to appeal to.

He frowned a little as he pulled back, bringing his thumb to his lips to chew the nail nervously as he thought.  “See, here’s the thing…”

“Bucky, please—”

“I don’t think I can do that,” he sighed.

“Please,” you cried, the word starting to lose all meaning as you just fought to be able to speak past the force of your sobs, “please, please—”

“You could tell somebody— and I know it wasn’t me, but the police aren’t gonna care about that.  I always have to take the heat for what he does… and I would just rather not go to prison.”

“I won’t, Bucky,” you feverishly defended, “I wouldn’t tell, I swear— we’re friends!  Friends don’t tell on each other—”

He interrupted you as he grabbed you by your shirt suddenly, pulling you towards him as you recoiled.  “I don’t have friends,” he growled.

“We… we could be friends,” you offered weakly.  “I could be your friend.  Do you… do you want to be my friend?”

He studied your face, the gaze of his bright blue eyes burning through you instantly.  “I can’t say that I do.”

You whimpered as he leaned in closer, taking a deep breath right against the side of your face.

“You smell so good,” he whispered, his left hand— bionic metal, much to your horror— reaching up to trace over your face and hold you close to him.  “We aren’t friends, silly; we’re soulmates.”

You shivered, gut sinking as you closed your eyes and thought there might still be a chance it was all a horrible dream.  This isn’t happening to me, this isn’t happening to me, this can’t be happening to me—

“Hey!” he yelled, slapping you on the face suddenly.  “Keep your eyes open!”

You cried but tried to do as he asked, knowing it would only be so much worse if you didn’t do whatever he wanted.

“The point is, even if you didn’t tell, letting you go just isn’t… economical for me,” he explained.  “‘Cause the truth is, even though I didn’t want to kidnap you, right now I wanna… I wanna keep you.”

He didn’t even let you start crying hard again before he cradled your face in his hands, refusing to let you turn away.

“No, baby, it’s okay— it’s gonna be good!” he promised.  “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Please, Bucky, don’t do this,” you sobbed.

“Shh, shh, don’t you get it?  He did this to help me— he knew I couldn’t do it alone, ‘cause I was too afraid to talk to you, but he brought you to me, and now I’m gonna make you understand how good we are for each other.”

He scooted closer, his hands rubbing your legs through your jeans as you cried silently.

“And that’s why he didn’t touch you,” he continued.  “He just left you for me, cause he knows you’re— you’re mine.”

He kissed you suddenly, and it was awkward and sloppy against your unwilling lips.  His tongue eventually managed to force your mouth open, exploring and filling it as you struggled and failed to turn away.  His hand on your jaw was almost tight enough to choke you, a looming threat of what awaited if you didn’t kiss him back.  You couldn’t exactly put much passion into it but you tried your best.

He was smiling when he leaned back and broke away from you, still holding your face and seeming almost proud— of you or himself, you weren’t sure.

“You are so perfect,” he praised quietly.  “I can’t believe I finally have you… god, it’s like a dream come true.”

Or a nightmare, you responded internally.

You jumped when he pulled the knife out from a holster on his belt.

“Oh, this?  I won’t hurt you with it— so long as you stay still,” he explained gently as he leaned forward and started to cut off your shirt while you tried desperately not to shake.  

He looked at you with the reverence of a man at the altar as he tore the shreds of your clothes away, cutting slowly until you were just in your bra and panties.

"Stop," you whispered, but it was so quiet he must not have heard you— or he just didn't care.  He gingerly slipped the knife between your bra and your chest, tugging out to snap it off.  

He took a breath to steady himself; he seemed nearly as nervous as you, just in an entirely different way.

"Baby," he mumbled under his breath, "god, I just wanna do everything to you."

It was hard not to tense up when he said that, or when he brought the knife between your legs to cut off your underwear, but you willed yourself not to shiver because you really weren't ready to lose anything important if his hand slipped.

With them cut and tossed aside, you forced your eyes shut— because you couldn't stop him from seeing you, but at least you didn't have to watch.  As your legs instinctively closed, he gently guided them back open, metal fingers cold on your skin but flesh ones unbearably warm.

“You have such a nice body, I don’t know why you hide it in those baggy clothes,” he chuckled as he ran his hands over your skin.  “I watched you shower a few times, you know, and I saw you look at yourself in the mirror before you got in…"

You opened your eyes, but he wasn't looking at your face, instead taking a long moment to take in everything else.

"You looked like you were disappointed," he continued, "but— but you’re beautiful, and you should know that.  You need somebody to tell you that.”

You felt your face heating up even though you should be horrified, not flattered.  To be fair, it was a bit of both.

“Do you think I’m, you know, handsome?” he asked awkwardly, glancing up to your face again.  “People used to say that about me, a long time ago.  Are you… attracted to me?”

You shook your head, lying.

“Then why are you so wet?” he sing-songed with a mocking grin, thick fingers spreading your lower lips and gathering the arousal they found there.  You whimpered when he brought those fingers to his lips and sucked them hungrily.  “Fuck, you taste incredible— I mean, I knew you would, but wow, this is so much better than just smelling those panties he stole.”

You shivered with disgust, realizing that he was responsible for the pair you thought were lost in the laundry.  

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that,” he laughed.  “Yeah, it was his idea and all, I didn’t do anything but… I’ll tell you a little secret,” he smirked as he leaned in, right against your ear, whispering: “I got off with them, and on them, and it felt soooo good…”

He quickly pulled his cock out of his trousers as you started to struggle against the chains again, getting a quick glimpse before looking away as you wondered how he could possibly fit that in you.

“Do you like knowing that?  Do you like knowing I stroked my cock and thought about you?  I imagined you were laying under me, begging me to fuck you… and now you’re here, and it’s real, and it’s gonna be wonderful.”

You gasped as he suddenly pushed in, trying not to react but knowing he was watching your face intently and saw it all.  “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, “you’re so tight, god, I knew you’d be perfect…”

You cried as he started moving inside you, holding your hips steady and filling you completely until it actually hurt to be stretched so wide.  You were sure nothing had ever been so deep inside you, and it was making your whole body jolt with each thrust.

“Does it feel good?  Do you like my cock in you?” he asked— but it didn’t sound like dirty talk, it sounded like he was genuinely asking.

You shook your head, lying again.

“What if I do this?” he offered, reaching down and circling a calloused thumb over your clit.  Your back arched into his touch, and he grinned proudly.  “See, doesn’t that make it better?  I bet I can make you come.”

One final lie for the night, you shook your head.

"Oh, doll," he soothed, kissing away a tear that had trailed down your cheek, "it's okay… it's okay to like it.  You don't need to pretend."

He reached down and pressed his hand into your lower belly, making you winced as he applied pressure until it took everything you had not to scream.

"Feel that?" he cooed.  "I can feel it.  We're finally together, baby, you never have to be alone again… isn't it incredible?"

Sobbing, your back began to arch up against the wall you were chained to.  With his hand pushing on you, it was impossible to ignore the head of his cock slamming into your g-spot— hard enough that your entire body shook with each thrust.  It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, and not just because you’d never been kidnapped before.  As he leaned down to suck on your neck hard enough to leave a mark, it was hard not to feel like he was claiming every part of your body all at once.  You bit down on your lip, afraid to moan too loud, but he heard the muffled noises and pulled up to tut at you disapprovingly.

“Don’t do that,” he frowned, “I wanna hear everything, pretty girl.  I wanna hear you beg for me.”

You whined as you tried to resist it, but getting railed like this made you want to do whatever he told you to.

“Come on, baby,” he encouraged sweetly, “just let go, I know you want to…”

It was bubbling up in your chest faster than you could stop it, each cry louder than the last until you couldn’t hold back anymore.  “Bucky!” you shrieked, hating yourself as you heard him laugh happily right by your ear.

“Oh I know, I’m right here, doll,” he soothed gently, holding you tightly; your hands wiggled inside their shackles, and you shamefully realized that you were craving to wrap your arms around him, run your fingers through his hair.  The desire to push him away was lost to the need to reach your peak.  “Say my name just like that when you come on my cock, sweetheart.”

Your walls were already convulsing and you were moaning so loud you thought you might lose your voice.  Pleasure built up faster than you could comprehend, and so intensely that little black dots were dancing on your vision.  

Oh god yes, right there, don’t stop, yes, you would’ve cried out were it anyone else doing this to you.  Instead all you could do was whimper his name, somewhere between begging for more and begging for mercy.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, I can feel you coming for me— you’re so good, so fucking good,” he groaned, “I’m close already, can you believe it?  I should slow down, so I can make you come again, but you feel too good, I can’t stop.”

Most of that was lost to you, though, because everything had gone numb and fuzzy in the wake of your orgasm, your body limp in his grasp.  The way he pulled your hips into his made you feel used, like a— well, like a doll, fittingly.

“Oh god, babygirl— can I come inside?” he asked gently, but when you weakly shook your head, he just smiled.  “It’s gonna feel so good to fill you up.”

Before you could make it clear that you were saying no, he leaned forward and kissed you— aggressive and rough as he started to breathe deeply and moan against you.  You kicked your legs to try to get him away but all you could do was uselessly scrape your feet against the floor.  You could feel him pulsing inside you, growling against your lips until suddenly warmth began to paint your walls.  Whimpering, you slouched limply as the fight left you.  

“Oh my god, angel,” he sighed, pulling back and smiling as he traced his thumb over your face, following the path of a fresh tear, “that was… you’re incredible.  I’ve never come like that, you feel so fucking amazing.”

He kissed you again, gentler and slower than before.  

“Is it weird that I don’t wanna pull out?” he asked just louder than a whisper, chuckling as his nose brushed against yours.  It was like this guy thought he was in a Hallmark Christmas movie while you were in a Lifetime thriller.  “I could just stay inside you forever… but I won’t.”

He watched in awe as his hips pulled back and his softening cock slipped out of you.  Your face burned with shame as you felt a gush of his come (and yours) leak from you.  

“Wow, look at that,” he mumbled weakly.  “Can you push it out, baby?  I wanna see how good I filled this pretty pussy.”

It made you feel disgusting, but you summoned the last of your strength to do as he asked, unable to see the results but watching him stare between your legs and bite his lip.  

“Fuck, babygirl, that’s… that’s fucking gorgeous.  I stretched you out pretty good, and you’re all swollen…”

Strange enough, he pulled you into a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re so perfect, sweetheart… my pretty little doll.”  When he pulled back a bit, he moved a stray hair that had stuck to the sheen of sweat on your face, admiring you with a small smile.  “God, I can’t believe you’re finally all mine.  Guess he was lookin’ out for me, bringing you here.  I oughta thank him, somehow.”

He must have known what you were imagining by the way you tensed up, and he laughed softly.

“Don’t worry, baby, I won’t let him touch you.  I won’t let anyone touch you but me.  Now let’s get you out of these chains and into a hot bath, how’s that sound?”

Weakly nodding, you let your eyes fall shut as he reached up to unlock the metal cuffs around your wrists.  Holding your hands in his, he softly kissed the marks left there from when you’d still been fighting, before finally scooping you up into his arms.  He didn’t struggle at all to lift you, and you were too exhausted to notice the way you were leaning into his chest as you dozed off.

You dreamt that you were looking out over still water, contemplative but determined, before falling right in.

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Let’s say England has a long-term girlfriend he knows isn’t the biggest fan of marriage bc her family had been really really pushy (before she got the heck out of dodge) about her marrying + reproducing ASAP. How might he react if she came to him and said she was kinda starting to like the general concept of marrying him — that is, the whole ‘together forever’ bit. Thanks!

I confess darling that I have been trying to finish this prompt for well over a year, and I offer my sincerest apologies that it’s taken me this long to finish it. Still, despite my tardiness, I hope you enjoy, and I thank you for your patience with me.

You had never intended to fall in love, not with the constant push of your relatives to fall in line like a perfect child.

First, marriage to someone they deemed acceptable, raising the perfect 2.5 children, followed by quietly settling into parenthood and complaisant contentment until the day you last drew breath.

Truth of the matter was, you had avoided all chances of romance for the first few years after you moved away from home, carefully slipping away from anyone who seemed remotely interested in you.

You knew your folks would have disproved such behaviour had they learnt the truth, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You had your own dreams to pursue, your own story to tell, your own life to live; you didn't need someone by your side to feel complete.

You were happy as you were, finding enjoyment in your work and figuring out your place in the world.

You didn’t need, or frankly want, anything more than that.

That was of course until you met him.

Falling in love with Arthur Kirkland had been a complete accident. He slipped past all of your defenses and took up residence in your heart as if he had always belonged there.

It started out slow enough; at first you simply knew him as a familiar face from the cafe in Waterstones, steaming cup of Darjeeling and a chocolate croissant sitting forgotten on the table in front of him, always too focused on his reading to pay any attention to the outside world. After one particularly crowded Sunday afternoon, he began to transition into your favorite dining companion, the two of you often taking turns paying for each other’s food. Slowly but surely, you began forgetting about your books, too wrapped up in conversation, and before you knew it-

You had come to love every part of him- the gentleman that you begrudgingly introduced to your parents, the rebellious and passionate activist, the cocky and playful little shit who had long ago memorised all the best ways to disarm you, and the ancient soul who cared so deeply, who still stretched himself thin most days in effort to protect each of his loved ones.

You fell in love with his voice, whispering sonnets and sonatas and sweet nothings in your ear while his arms cradled you from behind.

You fell in love with his eyes, still losing your footing sometimes when the light caught them just right, dreaming momentarily of summer forests and grassy glades and the misty dews of spring.

You fell in love with his smiles, from the satisfied grin at stirring up Peter’s ire to the breathless wonder each time you kissed or complimented him, to the bright, beautiful, blinding smile he wore when he was incandescently happy, his entire countenance iridescent from his joy.

You loved him completely- for his devotion, for his sweet gestures, for his damned impishness, for his wit, his sass, and the soft spoken affection.

You loved him: for his patience, for his recklessness, for his resilience, for his possessive pride that was somehow more charming than alarming.

He was unique, an enigma that, even after having lived together for years and dating even longer, kept you on your toes, his energy and random spouts of spontaneity proving to you that, even if you spent one hundred lifetimes with him, he would always remain a puzzle you would never fully solve.

And by God did you want to.

Arthur had stolen your heart away from you before you had even noticed he was close enough to take it, offering his own in its stead.

You had remained reluctant, confided in him your fears about settling down, how much you dreaded becoming trapped in a monotonous rut of tedium. He was quick to reassure you, showing through words and actions far more impassioned and teasing than he had ever shown prior, that an eternity with him could never be boring.

Even on quiet days, like today, with a steady drizzle painting the world in greys, Arthur humming quietly while adding another patch to his denim vest, and no other disturbance apart from the cat’s chittering at the robins playing in a puddle by the iron fence- Even now, you weren’t so much bored as you were pensive.

You had been thinking about a future with him a lot in the past few days, some irrelevant ad on your mobile about wedding venues catching your attention and slithering into the back of your mind.

What kind of wedding would he like? Would Arthur prefer something small and intimate, or would his hubris crave a larger venue, giving him yet another chance to prove to the world that he belonged at your side, no one else?  You couldn’t help but wonder if he would wear his uniform or a suit, if he would leave the rats' nest he called a hairstyle untouched, or if he would perhaps slick it back in that way that somehow made the normal rakishness disappear, a confident, refined cavalier standing in his place.

You knew of course that none of this mattered unless you actually talked to him first; as far as you were aware, he was content with the current arrangement, and he respected your views of marriage.

He had known, for a long time, just where the grim outlook stemmed from, and he never breached the subject again.

But now-

You had thought it was enough to hold his love, his faith, his vulnerabilities. But life was so fleeting, and now those few things were no longer enough.

You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, wanted the cheesy partners’ towel and flip flop sets. You wanted the physical reminder that you held his heart, the comforting reminder that he completely possessed your own. You wanted to be by his side forever, holding his hand through the good and the ill, facing new worlds and challenges and the uncertain future together.

You knew the risks, of course.

Marriage to a Nation carried an even heavier burden than the simple oath of “till death do us part.”

No, marrying Arthur would mean weaving your entire lives together, binding you on a spiritual level far surpassing mortality; it would mean sacrificing your chance to ever grow old, to eternally give yourself away: heart, mind, body, and soul.

But this was Arthur, who sang showtunes in the shower, who spent hours making silly faces at the cat, who was ridiculously competitive about Halloween costumes, the man who sat down and memorised the entirety of The Tempest in one night just for the bragging rights.

He already owned your heart, constantly invaded your thoughts and daydreams, and God knew he had long, long ago claimed your body, making certain not a single millimeter of his new territory went unexplored.

Would it really be so bad to give him your soul, too?

Glancing back up, seeing his eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers handling the needle with expert precision, lips slightly parted, reading glasses fallen halfway down his nose-

You knew your answer.

It was always going to be Arthur for you, only Arthur.

Forever, should he have you.

But now you faced the challenge of telling him that.

It should be simple enough; you really held no more secrets from him, and he no longer bothered trying to hide anything from you. You loved how open you were with one another, cherished the honesty that served as the very foundation to your relationship.

But the truth was that you were terrified.

It had been so long since either of you had spoken of marriage, since the topic was even a thought in your minds, and-

What if he didn't want you anymore?

What if he-

"I can see the steam coming outta your ears."

The unexpected presence of Arthur's voice startled you, eyes darting back over to the very man who was unwittingly tormenting you.

He had barely moved from his earlier position, though his glasses had been pushed up into his hair and he was studying you curiously, if not bemusedly.

"You good there?"

By default, you nearly responded with an affirmative, some playful, lighthearted thing that would have dismissed his concern immediately. You cut yourself off mid-start, then, while shifting to sit properly in the armchair, you decided to push forward. "Can we talk?"

You watched as his expression shifted, revealing his concern as he tied off his thread, setting aside the patchwork and gestured for you to join him on the sofa.

There were a few awkward moments where you took up your favourite positions, Arthur tossing an afghan across the pair of you despite your insistence that you didn't need one, the flicker of a grin as you begrudgingly thanked him, and then shifting around as you both got comfortable, but soon enough-

"Alright, now; talketh at-eth me."

It was impossible to fight the smile his choice of words triggered, a reference to an inside joke so old now that you could scarcely recall its origin. Seeming to deem it a success, his own soft, reassuring smile greeted you.

"Seriously though, luv-" His hand came to rest atop your own, his fingers gently tapping a familiar rhythm against your skin. "What's troubling you?"

You were half-tempted to offer something short of sincerity, something innocuous and mundane that you could both laugh over and forget again within a few hours. Yet, you knew that if you didn't tell him now, didn't ask him now, you would never find the courage again.

"I've been thinking-"

"Ah. A scary premise in its own right."

"Oh, shut up," you retorted to his tease, smacking his arm for his troubles. He rewarded you with a grin, all fondness and mischief. Opting to ignore him, you pressed on, eyes downcast to avoid whatever judgement he may offer.

"As I was trying to say earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted-" The teasing fell off, and the worry crept back in. "I've been thinking. About us."

"O-oh?"

Were you not so consumed by your own anxieties, you would have noticed his stutter, would have seen the sudden tension in his posture, the fear in his eyes. As it was, you were completely oblivious to all of it, and made yourself continue at his prompting.

"I- I think I'm ready."

He mimed the word "ready" to himself, parroting it with utter befuddlement. "For wha-"

"I mean, I know I wasn't for such a long time, and-" Suddenly, you were off, half unhinged. Now that you had admitted the truth aloud, it was all rushing out of you, everything you had come to love about him, everything that-

A finger pressing firmly against your lips stopped you mid-tangent, and when you glanced up to find piercing, blazing emerald focused on you as if you were the very center of the universe, whatever remained of your ramblings disappeared entirely.

"What are you trying to say?"

A simple question, so easy to answer, yet it carried with it the weight of Infinities, demanding nothing save the truth, in its most basic state.

You were lost in his gravity, half-drowning in whatever this new feeling was. It was addicting, another riddle to be solved.

"Marry me."

Time stood still, the words weighing heavily in the space between you, now seemingly insurmountable despite being no more than mere decimeters.

Arthur showed no reaction, revealed no indication that he had even heard your plea, your query, your command, your request, and yet it echoed over and over in your own mind, the tone, the weight, the untimeliness-

Every facet- from your inflection to chosen tempo- crescandoed as an accusation, a mocking symphony that he would reject you, that you would be left with only the haunting strains of your ill-conceived proposal.

And yet-

There was a hesitation in his eyes, the face of a man who wanted wholeheartedly to believe what he had heard, but had been burned far too often in the past to dare allow himself hope.

"You-" His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as he studied you once more, only for the suspicion to disappear again almost immediately, disbelief swiftly taking its place. "You're serious?"

It was then that you finally read his nervousness, understood the strange emotion reflecting in his eyes.

You had lead him to a precipice, the vast Unknown before you both, and-

And he was just as fragile as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, hoping to ground you both, and offered him a nod. “If you’ll have me, anyway.”

His eyes flickered between your own, darting back-and-forth so quickly in search of a lie, of any doubts, of any hint that you were less than certain- yet you knew he would find none of that.

“What about your family?”

The question took you by surprise; in the moment, you had completely forgotten anyone else even existed.

You weighed his question carefully. Marrying Arthur would give your family leave to gloat in self-satisfaction, and you knew with absolutely certainty that they would hold it over your head for the next three decades. But looking into the eyes of the man before you, remembering all that you had already seen and done together, you found that others' opinions no longer mattered, really hadn't mattered in a long, long time.

“I couldn’t care less about them. Arth-”

Whatever you were going to say was forgotten as he closed the remaining distance between you, moving so swiftly that you scarcely had a moment to steady yourself before he captured you in a searing kiss, one of his most passionate by far.

Somehow, despite the suddenness of it all, the initial force, the intensity- 

He was being incredibly gentle, and moving slowly enough to almost be more a torment than a treat. Almost.

You found yourself lost in a daze when he finally pulled away, just enough for each of you to catch your breaths, just far enough that he could study you with rapt attention. You could have drowned in his eyes, endless greens magnetizing in their intensity. His hands were still cradling your cheeks, still holding you firmly in place, a not completely foreign expression creasing his features.

You couldn't quite place it, even as your memories shifted desperately in search of its mate.

"'If I'd have you?'" His words, a rhetorical refrain of your own mere moments earlier, were scarcely a shared breath between you, murmured in timbre so low it summoned a shiver. There was the smallest twitch of his lip, his head tilting ever so slightly as more of that damned deviousness made its presence known. "I fully intend to have you regardless, luv. But the formality of it all certainly adds a particular je ne sais quoi, wouldn't you agree?"

You'd be damned if he knew just how that made your heart flutter, if he knew just how much weight that reassurance had lifted from your shoulders.

Carefree, content, you offered a playful smile. "Till death do us part then?"

Arthur no longer bothered trying to restrain his smile, soft and sincere in a way that left you breathless. "I'll love you till even the stars go cold, my dear."

Thanks for reading~

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

The Glitch

I get the Broken Reality au is a haha funny joke but there’s been some legit great art for it and since Butterfly is over and I haven’t gotten into the groove of my other projects yet, I decided to try some flash fiction of my interpretations. Note that this is very small and informal; I used whatever idea came into my head over the course of an hour or so instead of the weeks of planning that go into my usual fics. This was an experiment for fun. But if people enjoy the concept, I may be tempted to expand on it.

Credit to @lollitree @moonpaw @gentrychild​ @owlf45​ and @cyber-phobia​ (I’m sorry if I missed someone I lost track of how many people were involved in this mess).

Content working for reference to infant death.

Please enjoy!

The city shut down for a typhoon warning.  Thunder rumbled in the distance.  Dark clouds blocked the sun so much that by mid-morning it still looked like it never bothered coming up.  And yet the humidity made it too hot for coffee.  Inko didn’t know how to feel.  Work would have been a good distraction.  But she didn’t want any coworkers or clients to see if today got to be too much.  And it was already shaping up to be.  She caught herself making two plates of food for breakfast.  

Inko sat alone in the kitchen.  She couldn’t bring herself to finish her own plate.  Sickness set in fast.  The food had been cold for a long time before she summoned the strength to get up and throw it away.  Then she stood over the open trash can a while, debating whether to try and hold it together, or just throw up and get it over with.  She eventually managed to keep her stomach steady enough to go back to her bedroom.  There was another trashcan in there anyway.

A sound stopped her.  From her office.  The distinct sound of something heavy falling onto the carpet.  Right as she walked past the door.

Please not this again…

She opened the door with her eyes closed.  Her mind conjured a familiar image.  A bedroom full of books and hero posters.  Bright colors and personal touches.  A child’s room.  Inko opened her eyes to her drab home office.  Some of the older case file binders slipped off the pile again.  She really needed to sort those into storage. Not today though.  She didn’t bother to pick it up.

Inko walked faster than normal the rest of the way to her room.  She doesn’t want to face the temptation to search for old toys she remembers storing in the empty closet.  Or search the walls for scuff marks from action figures tossed into them she could always see even after the walls were painted. She hid her planner on a tall shelf and put the ladder away to make it that much harder to go through it over and over looking for doctors’ appointments and school events she knew were coming up.  Finally reaching her bed brought no comfort.

Of course she knew today’s date by heart.  She hadn’t put it on a calendar in the fourteen years since she used to look at it every day.  Inko stuck her head under her pillows, as if they could block out the silent noise of her memories.  Memories of before, the time even when she was by herself, she was never alone.

Fifteen years now, today.  With a shuddering gasp, the tears finally came.  Thunder crashed outside.  It’s not fair!  Why is it still this hard after this long?  Phantom kicks in her belly joined the growing ice there.

The hardest part was she still felt like that sometimes.  Like she wasn’t really alone.  Inko didn’t believe in ghosts, but the lost of what could have been was more than haunting enough.  She felt it watching her.  Judging her. Waiting just long enough for her to settle down into a peaceful, content existence before it reared up to plague her heart all over again.  Cliché hauntings like spooky faces in the mirror or blood coming out of the drains would have been preferable.  Those would be generic enough not to remind her directly.

Rain started outside.  Her phone lit up with a notification she ignored in time with a thunderclap.  The storm was getting closer.

Maybe I should call Hisashi, the thought crossed her mind.  Maybe he’s going through this too.  She bit her lip bloody.  Her frustrated memories weren’t in question like the others.  Probably not though.  I don’t want to talk to him anyway.

Hisashi had been stuck in the denial stage of grief, which often came off as him acting like he didn’t take hers seriously.  Not a year, not even half a year looking back, after they came home from the hospital, he wanted to try again.  

“We can’t let mourning hold us up forever,” he said.  “And it’s not like we lost a once in a lifetime opportunity!  We’ve got at least another twenty years to keep trying!”

But we did lose him! she had wanted to scream.  Still did, years later.  Why didn’t he understand?  He was your loss too!  Inko wanted for the next roll of thunder, then shouted.  

“I don’t just want any baby!  I want Izuku!”

The lights went out.  The temperature rose five degrees instantly when the ceiling fan stopped going.  The rain stopped.

Power outage.  Inko sat up with a sniffle.  Turns out the notification was a warning about roving blackouts.  Of course.  Oh well. I wasn’t really in the mood to cook tonight any-

Thunder boomed even louder than before, making her jump.  Then another.  Lightning flashed outside at the same time.  It was right on top of her.

What?  I thought the typhoon wasn’t supposed to make landfall until later toni-

Another crash.  It vibrated through her bones.  Then another. The lightning lit up her whole room. Except for a shadow on the wall. Inko jolted to look, holding her breath, and found only her own shadow in the next flash.

“I’m such an idiot…”  She went for her phone again.  For peace of mind, she decided to use her data to check if an evacuation order went out. Or any updates at all really, since the weather came so much faster than the news said.  “Nothing,” she sighed annoyed.  “I hate being alone for weather like this…”

A new notification pinged.

[Mom]

Inko blinked rapidly.  The message remained.  All of her insides turned inside out in an instant, and she started crying again. Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? No one ever got a chance to call her that.  She touched the note to open it, but nothing happened.  No app or source was displayed.  Nor did it go away after a few seconds like normal.  

“Wha- What’s going on?” she wept.  In a mix of sorrow and rage, she wound up to chunk the device across the room.  But she froze.

Outside her window, floating against the pitch-black sky, were two small orbs.  Perfectly circular and glowing.  Watching her. She didn’t dare move.  

Another ping.  She looked without moving.

[I’m sorry]

“…  What?”

For a moment, all the sounds in the world dropped out.  They all came back at ounce.

Lights flickered.  Both the ones inside and the lightning going outside.  Multiple strikes laid on top of one another.  No relief.  Thunder pounded over and over like a drum solo.  It shook the whole building.  Inko ran into the closet away from the window.  She slammed her hands over her eyes but it didn’t help.  Her terrified cried were whispers to the screams of the storm.

A child’s scream.  She heard it. Each flash of light came with a cry. The distinct sound of a little boy calling out in pain blended with unyielding nature.  It came from every direction.  Every hair on Inko’s arms stood up in fear.  She felt the charge in the air.  But she had to go out.  Her baby was crying for help.

She burst from the closet into the living room.  All the lights and appliances turned themselves on and off.  The TV showed only static between its flashes. Something drew her too it.  The storm was deafening.  It pounded through her head like a heartbeat.  The beats got faster.  The static flashes started to look like a face.  Her usual caution was abandoned as she fell to her knees and touched the screen.  The snow cleared for a single instant.  Just long enough to look like the blank eyes from the window.  She felt the heartbeat there too.

Then it stopped.  All of it. The noise and lights all went quiet and dark.  The TV went completely cold in an instant.  Inko, stunned, palmed over it looking for something.  Anything.  The pulse. Warmth.  A burnt fuse or faulty wire.  But nothing.  The rain started again.

She pulled her hands back to her lap.  Her heart was still racing and tears kept flowing down under her chin. She looked around.  Everything in the living room and kitchen looked the same. No sign of the earthquake-like convolutions the whole appartement experienced only minutes ago.  Inko combed the entire space for evidence.  An object knocked off the shelf.  A picture frame fallen from the wall.  The notifications.  Toys in the closet or scuffs in the wall.  Still not a sign.  She even stepped outside her door to check the sky.  Only light rain and shattered thunder, just like the news said the day before.

There was only one thing out of place.  Back in her bedroom, the bottom drawer of her nightstand hung open.  Inko had to steal herself before approaching it. There were only two things in there: a little green blanket, and a picture of the ultrasound.  The most recent one from her last appointment. The doctor said he was doing fine.

“Izuku…” she whispered to it in her hand.

She remembered the squealing little bundling being put in her arms for the first time.  The first time he smiled at her.  Teaching him to walk, then immediately launching into play.  Him coming home with bruises and scrapes after the kids at school were mean to him, and crying in her arms.  Then, him coming home with his first real friends in a long time. She made them all dinner. Katsudon.  That was Izuku’s favorite.

Only she didn’t remember.  The same way she didn’t really remember the toys and scuffs.  Those were fantasies.  Daydreams of what could have been.  She just thought about them so often they felt like memories. Especially today.  It was his birthday after all.  They’d fade back into vague dreams by tomorrow.  They always did.  

And she would be left with reality.  The silence.  The cold, still little hand between her fingers.  Soft cheeks without blush.  Eyes that never opened.  Clutching him too tight to her chest, knowing the second she let go he would be gone for real and it would all be over.  

But it was never over.  Inko went through this same torturous song and dance every year for fifteen now.  All the guilt and dread would subside slowly over the next one, until it all came back at once.  Just like this.

At least it’s done for now, she tried to reassure herself, climbing back into bed. It still wasn’t even noon yet.  Plenty of time for another breakdown.  Hopefully the next one won’t be, feel, as loud.  She sighed heavily into her sheets.  This sort of thing can’t be normal.  I should really try therapy again.

Against her better judgement, she kept the blanket out, and clutched it to her chest.  Static electricity pricked her fingers.  With her other hand, she reached across the bed, and tried to imagine someone else there. Not Hisashi, never him anymore.  Izuku.  He was fifteen and happy, but the storm was making him nervous so he came to lay beside her.  She remembered it like it was now.  If she closed her eyes, she could feel his warm, soft skin, with a healthy, if a little anxious heartbeat just underneath.  The mattress warped as he sighed.

“We’ll be okay.  It’s just a little rough weather,” she promised.

“Okay, Mom,” Izuku answered quietly.  “…  I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”  I’ll start trying to get myself together tomorrow.  For now, let me have this.

Izuku didn’t respond for a while.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.  Happy birthday.”

[michaelgovehateblog]

Piggy in the Middle

Queen Elizabeth x Michael Gove, Michael Gove x Matt Hancock, 1500 words

“Michael Gove and Sarah Vine to divorce.” She knew it was bad, but Elizabeth’s heart couldn’t help but skip a beat when she saw the headlines. She had spent years forcing herself to ignore how she really felt about Michael and pretending the flirty looks and comments they shared were meaningless or all in her head; after all, they were both married, and publicly at that, especially in the case of her and Philip. And it’s not that she didn’t love Philip, because she of course did, but there was something about Gove and his pig-like face that just drew her in. And now she was rid of Philip, and Michael and Sarah were splitting up – maybe there was a chance for them.

Not that they would be able to go public with it if anything even did happen between them. As far as the country knew, Elizabeth was still mourning Philip, just putting on a brave face and soldiering on without him. The public probably wouldn’t be able to deal with her moving on so soon. She sighed – her life as a parasite was so difficult.

Elizabeth was so lost in her thoughts she almost didn’t hear the knock at her door, and subsequent voice.

“Your Majesty? It’s 12, we’re scheduled to leave now.”

“Of course, I’m coming now.” She responded, and stood up to leave, making sure to glance in the mirror to check she still looked presentable. Everything was still pristine: icy white grey hairs all perfectly in place and nude lipstick completely un-smudged. She was wearing a long royal blue (her signature colour) coat with large buttons of a slightly softer blue colour, all of which were done up. This was worn over a classy floral-patterned dress, which wasn’t visible under the jacket. Perched on top of her head was an elaborate hat made from material the exact same colour as the coat and adorned with white and blue flowers. The shoes she wore were a standard pair of elegant black heels and the look was finished off with a pair of black gloves.

Satisfied the outfit was perfectly uncreased as always, Elizabeth left the room to head to the whatever event it was this time, she didn’t really care. Mostly she just showed up at these things for a bit of good PR and so people would continue believe she works hard and really cares about the common people (Which she didn’t obviously. Why would she.) Although, she was certain that someone had told her that this event would have many politicians also in attendance, so she was hopeful that she might encounter a certain cabinet member.

As per usual, Elizabeth was finding the event mind-numbingly boring, just endless shaking hands with forgettable people she was supposed to pretend to be interested in. But then she spotted him. And at the same moment she saw him, Michael glanced in her direction and they were making direct eye contact. She gave him a shy smile, which he returned as he started walking towards her, not breaking eye contact.

“Your Majesty,” said Michael, extending his arm to shake hands, “How are you today?” They shook hands, Michael noticing how dry and wrinkly Elizabeth’s felt, and her in turn mentally noting the bizarre clamminess of his, both of which only increased each person’s attraction to the other.

“I’m doing wonderfully,” she responded, “And thoroughly enjoying this lovely event.” she made sure to add, aware of how many people were probably in earshot. “But what about yourself? I heard the news. It must be a difficult time for you.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing this; he couldn’t believe that the Queen actually cared enough about him to pay attention to the news about him and his (soon to be ex) wife. He had always felt there was some kind of connection between the two of them but told himself he was imagining it – what other option did he have. But unusually for his cowardly personality, he got a sudden burst of confidence, and was shocked to hear himself talking.

“Ma’am, I think I need to step outside to get some fresh air. Would you be interested in joining me for a walk?” He hadn’t had confidence to do anything like that since his coked-up days of 20 years ago. Well, he always said 20 years ago, but those close to him, such as Matt Hancock, knew he was prone to enjoy a smidge of the substance of an evening.

“Yes, I would enjoy that a lot.” replied Elizabeth, much to Michael’s delight. He offered out his elbow, purely out of politeness, of course, which she accepted, outwardly calmly but very eagerly inside. A walk outside would probably mean time properly alone, where other people couldn’t hear them, something they had probably never had before.

They continued small talk for a while, about the event and such, until they were far enough away from the general crowds for more intimate conversation.

"How have you been coping, Ma'am, without the Prince? Such an unexpected shame, his untimely demise like that. It was truly a shock to all of us."

Right, 'untimely'. Elizabeth often forgot that Philip's death was supposed to be something entirely unexpected for her, not something she knew would happen down to the exact time and place.

"Missing him, of course, but life has to go on. And it's strange to remember that I am single again, after all these years. That's not been the case since I was 13 and Philip was an adult."

"Yes, it's the same for me, minus the questionable age difference. I’ve been married to Sarah for so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to meet other people - and be with other people...” at these words the two made eye contact, neither knowing what to say aloud but having an entire unspoken conversation.

“Mr Gove… Or Michael, may I call you Michael? Would you be interested in visiting the Palace for dinner sometime soon? I could give you a personal tour of the grounds.”

“Yes, Ma’am, of course you can call me Michael,” Almost unthinkingly, the pair faced each other and reached for each other's hands. “And I would be honoured to visit the palace, Ma’am.”

Elizabeth let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding, “Please, no need to bother with the formalities, at least not whilst nobody else is listening. Call me Elizabeth. Now, we should probably head back inside to the event, we’ve been out here a while, people will be missing me. They basically worship me. But I’ll get someone to contact you about your visit to the palace - I’d do it myself, only that sort of thing is far beneath me.” A smile spread over Michael’s pig-mannequin hybrid face as they made their way back inside.

What they hadn’t realised during their encounter, was that it wasn’t as private as they had thought; in fact another politician had been lurking and watching the entire scene.And he wasn’t happy about what he saw. As soon as Elizabeth and Michael walked off in separate directions, Matt Hancock quickly grabbed Gove by the arm and dragged him into a quiet corridor.

“Hancock.”

“Gove. I saw you outside just now, heard you talking with a certain monarch. The two of you seemed quite friendly.”

“Oh. Right. I hadn’t thought anyone else had been outside. You won’t - you won’t tell anyone what you saw or heard, will you?”

“I won’t. But only because it’s you, if it had been anybody else, I would be telling the sun immediately. The queen’s new love interest, I couldn’t hope for anything better to get the tabloids off my back. But because it’s you - I couldn’t hurt you like that.”

“Matt, what do you mean? Why are you making an exception for me?”

“Govey, as if you don’t know. You must have realised how I feel about you.” Hancock stepped closer to Gove and in his mind’s eye, imagined the Sims social interactions menu, and pictured selecting ‘kiss’. (It was from looking at the characters in the game, after all, that he learnt to kiss in the first place. The mindset and techniques stuck with him.) To his delight, he felt Michael kissing him back. Matt deepened the kiss and their tongues battled for dominance. Suddenly, Michael pulled away and stared, speechless, at Matt.

After about half a minute unable to muster any coherent thoughts (not even coherent by conservative standards) Gove turned away and briskly walked to an empty room, where he could sit alone and process all of what just happened. Not only was he certain now that Elizabeth felt the same spark that he did, but Hancock, whom he had secretly had a low-level affection for for many years, had just snogged him out of jealousy? He didn’t expect to be wrapped up in a love triangle the very day his divorce was announced, and yet it seemed that was what was happening. His years of being an incompetent and sleazy politician had clearly earned him some admirers.

~~

If you made it to the end, I'm only partly sorry for what you just read. I would be willing to write a second chapter if for some godforsaken reason somebody actually would want to read one. This took me far too long to write for something that is honestly not that many words but I feel like it's understandable, given the subject matter. k bye

[impaladolan]

Home Alone - Grayson Dolan

summary: after a long week of work, y/n needs some sort of relaxation and relief. although, her outlook on relieving her frustrations isn’t what grayson had in mind...

warnings: tid bit fluffy, swearing, vibrator use, & smut

a/n: been in my unfinished drafts for a bit..

"Are you sure you don't want to tag along, baby?" Grayson longingly questioned, his brows crinkled and his lips almost forming a pout.

"I haven't been able to do laundry all week. God knows it won't get done unless I do it now." Y/N chuckles, balancing a full basket of freshly dried clothes on her hip, watching her lover wrap his fist around the front door's handle.

Every other weekend, at the Dolan residences, the two brothers, and sometimes their wives, would gather with some of their friends and watch their favorite football teams. And later on, they'd play board games or watch some movies. Normally, Y/N would be the one begging Grayson to hurry up and get ready to attend the biweekly event, except this time.

Y/N has different plans...

It had been a brutal week at work, her boss was currently taking out her "divorce emotions" on her employees and Y/N was getting the rougher end of it. She was relieved when it was finally the weekend and she could stress clean, calm her nerves in some sort of self efficient way and relax after a tough couple days.

She hadn't even had the thought of a sexual release, until she had dreamt multiple naughty scenarios just last night during her deep slumber. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what all she had dreamed, but she remembers waking up with a dripping arousal and a sore ache at her very center. And though her husband was laid right next to her, perfectly capable of satisfying her womanly needs, she decided using other resources would be a better fit.

Don't get her wrong, she loves being pleasured by the only man who knows exactly how to, but she felt embarrassed. She didn't want to come across as a sex-crazed women to Grayson, even though it would never make a difference to him.

They're married, for goodness sake.

"I can stay back and help out. We could even have our own little movie night if you wanted," He began, releasing his hand from the door and taking a few steps toward Y/N, whose lips turned into a cheesy smile as he drew closer to her.

"Just you and me," He took the basket filled with clothes from her hip and set it on the floor, intertwining his large hands with her smaller ones, eliciting a short laugh from Y/N. He brought her closer to his frontside, creating a ballroom dance-like formation and began shuffling around with her in his arms. Like an old married couple, they slowly danced around the room, him twirling her in his grasp while Y/N admirably gazed upon him.

Her cheeks were rosy with admiration, finding his little act of affection adorable. "You get easily distracted, huh?" Y/N grinned, resting her chin happily on his shoulder, his minuscule beard hairs tickling certain parts of her neck.

"Well, you looked too pretty over here by yourself," He softly explained against her ear. "And I wanted to dance around a room with a beautiful woman like you. So, I am." He lowered his hands beneath her and slew her into a romantic dip, planting a sweet kiss upon her lips. She returned one back, feeling her heart grow two sizes larger, much like the Grinch movie portrays, if anything.

"Grayson, I know how much you enjoy football, especially with the boys," She was only making excuses, but he had tempted her to just cuddle on the couch all day and watch plethoras of movies and munch on various snacks. But the low rattle in the depths her core was motioning her in a different way, and she just couldn't survive the rest of the day without fixing her little problem.

"Hmm, you're right. But when I get back, we're ordering take out and watching movies. Got it?" He chuckles, bringing the both of them back up into a standing position.

"M'hm, be safe." Y/N smiles, planting another kiss on her lover's lips before leaving his warmth. She waved goodbye to him as he left their abode, sweetly grinning as she went back to finishing up the laundry before the real reason she was staying home, would begin.

Though the couple's intimate relations seemed innocent and loving, they each had a different side to them, specifically in the bedroom.

The two never shied away from new experiences and would most certainly dabble into different areas of the "sex world," if you will. They, of course, had their preferences and different kinks, but Y/N seemed to be more open and freeing for that sort of stuff.

For the different occasions that they felt a bit more lustful and yearning for one another, they kept a locked trunk of knickknacks in their closet. You see, that's the one Grayson knows about, but Y/N keeps a smaller one, filled to the brim with all of her own toys, in a section of her closet that he never really pays attention to. If he had any idea that she kept self-pleasuring items for her own uses, he'd be absolutely ballistic.

Thankfully, he doesn't...

The moment Y/N threw the last bits of dirty laundry left, into the washer, she practically sprinted to their shared bedroom. After rummaging through the trunk filled with "accessories," she found a nice, pretty pink vibrator to do the trick, as well as a black silk blindfold to shield her own eyes. She was already rid of her clothes and sprawled across the wide bed in an instance, tying the piece of cloth over her eyes. 

Though, unbeknownst to Y/N, Grayson was already on his way back home. As soon as he had pulled into his brother's driveway, they had called to cancel— a certain emergency about something Grayson didn't really pay attention to listen to. He was thrilled that he didn't have to leave Y/N at home, all by herself to do chores all day. And luckily, their houses weren't too far apart from each other, so Grayson was back home within fifteen minutes of leaving it.

He didn't feel the need to text Y/N, she was probably busy anyway and possibly wouldn't respond. He figured she would hear the garage door open and expect that he was already home.

Little does he know...

As soon as he was parked and out of his vehicle, Grayson was trudging down stairs to the laundry room, in search of Y/N. He was surprised that she wasn't there, but he figured she might just be folding on the couch, trying to get ahead on one of the TV series the two were drawn into.

Grayson chuckles as he makes his way back upstairs, though his brows curtly furrow, his ears almost perking at the muffled sounds coming from the hallway.

Their shared room, to be precise.

With a pondering look upon his face, he kicks off his shoes and makes his way towards his bedroom, quietly twisting the door handle and pushing it inward. He opens the door wide enough to secretly look inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness that enveloped the entire expanse. The noises he had heard only seconds ago were more prominent, and his eyes had fallen on the object creating the aroused sounds;

Y/N.

She was laid out on their bed, legs wide open and shaking while her hands were constantly pressuring a fucking sex toy against her soaked pussy. Grayson froze, pure anger washing over him and turning his face a turbulent shade of red, washing away his pleasant mood. He almost stormed in there, ready to rip the stupid machine away from her hands and show her what a real orgasm feels like.

But he somehow contained himself, and instead, watched the scene play out in front of his very own eyes, vexation spilling from his entire countenance.

Y/N didn't hear the garage door open and close, or even the beep of Grayson's truck when he locked it.  She hadn't even heard his feet stomping up and down the stairs, or his lingering chuckles. She was so caught up in how she was feeling.

The artificial vibrations that buzzed upon her core made the world around her so euphoric and heavenly. She'd brush the toy upon her clit, forcing her entire body shake with deep pleasure and a soft moan to emit from her mouth. It felt so nice, and she was so close to the brink of releasing.

She was already feeling better, and naughty. If Grayson were to find her this way, masturbating  freely in the open and satisfying herself, she would never live to see another day. But she didn't care at this point, she just wanted to finally cum.

And she was extremely close.

Her hips began to buckle, while her backside rose from the bed and her free hand twisted at the sheets beneath her. "Mm- just a little more—" Her entire core was pulsating, so fucking close to just letting go.

So close..

"Don't fucking cum yet, slut." Grayson's voice boomed throughout the room, making Y/N's movements freeze in terror and shock. Before she could think of some sort of explanation or reasoning as to what she's doing, her blindfold is ripped from her eyes, while the vibrator that was once nuzzled up on her pussy, was taken away as well. Now, she felt so empty and wanting, edged to an almost release.

"Jesus- You're fucking dripping, for fucksake." His tone was harsh, and Y/N felt like crying. She held onto her tears as she watched him examine the drenched vibrator, still buzzing in his hands. Out of the loss of contact, she began to whine, squeezing her thighs together to create at least a little bit of friction.

"Grayson, please—" She began to huff, but her shuttering voice was interrupted by the aggravated man pacing in front of her.

"I don't think I fucking asked you to talk, did I?" He glared at her, though just the sight of Y/N's exposed body made him shudder with a tinge of want.

Against his wishes, Y/N continued her whines, her breathing still ragged and finally her own hand traveling down to her soaked heat. She didn't care if she'd be in more trouble, she just needed to unravel the knot inside her, whether she'd pay for that mistake later or if not.

She didn't get far, because Grayson caught her wrist before it made it all the way down to her center, and brought it up to the headboard. He wrapped a leather strip around both of her wrists, mumbling incoherent spews of anger, doing the same with her ankles against the bedposts.

"I-I, I thought you were gonna watch football.." She began, but a low growl sounded from Grayson, and the blindfold was placed back over her eyes, while a different type of cloth was shoved in her mouth. Y/N feels the numbing slap across her thigh before hearing the connection's sound, an exasperated scream muffling out of her filled mouth.

"I'd stop talking if I were you. Unless you want to be choked by Daddy’s fucking cock, darling." His voice rattled her insides, and she dared not to make another sound, already dug far too deep in a hole anyway. "Get ready princess, m'gonna edge the fuck out of you. Maybe then, you'll remember to ask me for permission to use your fucking toys." His voice soon faded from her ears as a higher vibration than before was nudged right up against her swollen clit, making her figure convulse in imploding pleasure.

It took an entire hour for Grayson to edge Y/N twelve fucking times. She was a mess, sweat droplets dotting her hairline while her pussy remained in slippery shambles. He didn't say a word, and Y/N held her tongue from shouting profanities after the several losses of contact. She hadn't came yet, but if she didn't soon— she would find a way to get out of her restraints and finish off what she had started herself.

It had been several minutes since Grayson had pulled her to the brink of an orgasm, and she was starting to think that he'd never come back. She had heard the sound of a zipper earlier, and she couldn't tell if he was doing something to ease his own pain while she laid there, so high strung and breathless. She was about to call out his name, but the warmth of his tongue wrapped around her bundle of nerves and she let out an exasperated sigh, pulling on the cuffs tied around her wrists.

He slipped his tongue in skillful motions, his hands pushing up underneath her thighs as he lapped up her liquids. Y/N was so sensitive to touch, anything that remotely stroked her could heighten her arousal and make her lust for more.

Within seconds, her hips were shaking and her back arched above the mattress, her toes curling under the pressure. And his voice finally sang the heavenly words she had been waiting for the entire time;

"Cum, princess."

Y/N released all over his lips, a high-pitched scream sounding from her mouth as she finally unravels, her legs bucking against their restraints. She spits out the cloth from her mouth and heavily breathes, murmuring praises to the man between her legs.

"I'm sorry, Grayson."

a/n: did this completely suck? i haven’t really written in third person in awhile, so i need honest opinions..

[camels-pen]

Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby

Summary:

Danny makes a bet he knows he won't lose. He also volunteers as a model for a fashion show.

-

A Secret Santa gift for the marvelous @princessfanonanona <3

I tried combining your prompts "2. Something with Fiara", "3. Something inspired by one of my fics? College shenanigans/Rewind/Dani's Walking Nightmare" and "5. Something that will make me laugh"

((it's a great series & really recommend a read if you haven't already))

Ao3 Link | Fanona's College Shenanigans series

~

“—all I’m saying is the outline could’ve been a little clearer. I mean there’s a huge difference between a literature review and a fricken annotated bibliography, ” Cody said, a frown on his face as he pushed through the door to the fourth floor followed by Melika and Danny. 

The three of them had met up for a project during lunch and decided to head to class together afterwards. They took their time walking up the staircase, the four flights of stairs providing ample opportunity for Cody to finish explaining about his roundabout adventure in learning about the different types of written assignments.

As they entered the floor, Danny’s eyes habitually drew to the bulletin board down the hall. It was always filled with posters for one event or another and some of them seemed really fun, especially the charity paintball tournament two months ago. He may still be cleaning bright yellow stains off his comfiest jeans, but it was so worth it. The look on Miles’ face was priceless and Danny wouldn’t trade it for the world.

So, Danny’s made a habit of checking the board every time he walked past it. Which is reason enough to stop and take his time to look over the board, but today he actually caught someone in the act of putting something up. A rare occasion since the usual people tend to put up posters early in the morning right after the building opens. 

The woman wore a long pink dress, was very tall, and was looking incredibly well put together as they stapled a poster with tear-off tabs to the board.

“Hey, dude, you good?” Cody asked.

“Yeah, just checking out the board.” Danny’s eyes never left the person. “Who’s that?”

Cody and Melika followed his gaze. Melika spoke up, “Oh, that’s Fiara. She’s part of the art club, I think.”

“You think?”

“One of my friends is in a club with her, but he didn’t really specify and he’s only in the general arts club and painting club, so…” Melika shrugged.

Danny hummed. As Fiara shifted away from the board to put away her stapler, his eyes travelled up to the board to peruse the new poster. A fashion show next week and they’re looking for volunteers to model her pieces? Huh.

Danny was still checking out the details on the poster when Fiara turned around. “Hey there!” She waved to their group of three and they greeted her back. “If you’re interested in modeling for the show I can answer any questions you have while I’m here.” Danny hummed.

“Are you looking to have something modelled in particular?” Cody asked.

Fiara shook her head. “The general theme is formal wear, but the challenge for this event is to make clothing with your model in mind.” She smiled. “As long as you’re available during the practice runs on stage and to meet for a few fittings, we’re all good.”

Turning to Danny, she added, “By the way, are you Danny from the ‘Walk a Mile in Her Shoes’ TikTok?” Danny nodded. “Oh that’s perfect . If you do decide to volunteer, here’s my number.” She tore off a tab from the poster and handed it to him. “Shoot me a text and I’ll set you up with something that’ll look amazing on you.”

Melika grinned. “Got inspired by the glowing freckles, didn’t you? You can admit it, they’re pretty cool.”

“Oh absolutely and I’m still insanely curious about how that works.” Fiara waved a hand. “But I’ll probably ask you another time.” She adjusted the strap to her bag. “I’ve still got a few posters to put up around campus and I’ve got class in a few hours, so I’ll see you around.”

Fiara headed down the hall and nearly slipped on nothing before catching herself on the wall. She laughed awkwardly and sent a wave over her shoulder with verbal reassurance that she was alright before leaving.

When they reached the classroom a short few minutes later, Cody spoke up, “So, are you gonna do it?”

“I don’t mind volunteering for it, but like—”—Danny waved his hand around—“y’know?”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“You understand my vibes. You know.” Danny sighed as he pushed open the classroom doors, the sound of quiet murmurs from other students filling up the silence. “Maybe I’ve just reached my quota for dressing up for the year.”

Cody hummed disbelievingly. “Pretty sure that laser tag game you mentioned just ruined your taste for anything else. I mean, you had the chance to be as insanely acrobatic as you wanted and embarrassed your friends.”

Danny smiled. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice to be in a high stakes battle without any real stakes. I’m not really used to that.”

Cody and Melika looked at him in concern. “Does this have to do with the paperwork you do for Coffee Ghost?” Danny nodded as he began unpacking his things onto the nearest desk.

Melika sighed. “One of these days we’re gonna sit down and just listen to all the batshit stories you have.”

“How do you know I’ve got batshit stories?” They gave him a deadpan look before they both turned to stare at the glowing pile of paper and the purple rock sitting on the stack with shimmering white spots that swirled in circles every so often. “What? It’s a nice paperweight!”

- - -

Danny was about to enjoy one of Mrs. Birchshoo’s cookies while actually relaxing, a well deserved break from doing schoolwork and ghost king stuff since six am, when Anjie decided to slide in next to him and wiggle their eyebrows at him.

Danny said nothing. He stared resolutely at his cookie and brought it to his mouth. The eyebrow wiggles grew in intensity and speed. He groaned. “What.”

“A little birdy told me you’re thinking of joining a fashion show.”

“Yup.”

“Without telling me?”

“Yup.”

“Well, if you’re going to be rude about it, maybe I should just take my compensation now—” They held up one of the cookies from his container and was about to take a bite out of it before Danny snatched it away from them.

“Don’t eat those. They have ectoplasm in them.”

“Aww.” They pouted for a moment before slowly reaching for another. Danny pulled the container toward him and snapped the lid closed. “Oh come on, what’s a little radioactive food between friends?” Danny sighed.

He stared at his cookies through the transparent lid mournfully before shoving them in his bag and turning his full attention to Anjie. 

“Okay, fashion show. What were you thinking?” They hummed questioningly as they nudged their foot towards his bag. 

“Why do you think I’ve got anything in mind? Maybe I just wanted to know the date to see you all dressed up.” Danny lightly slapped their knee and shoved his bag under his seat.

“You always have something in mind. I do want to hear what it is though.” Anjie grinned.

“Well, now that you mention it—”—they pulled out a one page contract and slapped it on the table. Danny stared at it for a moment, eyes tracing over the words, but becoming more and more confused as he went along.

“You… want me to join a landscaping business and work exclusively in a crocodile onesie?”

Anjie made a confused noise before reading the paper themself. They laughed. “Whoops, wrong one. One second.” They reached over the top of the booth and waved their arm around until the sound of tape unsticking caught his ear. Danny raised an eyebrow at them and they smirked. “That was for a different bet with Miles. Don’t worry about it.” Anjie pulled up a second paper and slapped it on the table.

“Anyway, here. Read it and weep.”

Danny read the new contract. He smirked. “Are you sure you want to agree to this? I mean you’re practically handing me the win here.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You don’t have that much self restraint.”

“Oh, you think so? I’ll have you know I instigated a prank war with a rich dude from Wisconsin once.” 

“And this proves your point, how?”

“Look, it took a lot of self control to stop the war before it got worse.”

“Sounds more like someone was a sore loser.”

Danny waved them off. “Ah whatever. More importantly, can I tell people or is it complete secrecy?”

“Tell as many people as you want.” Anjie grinned, a mischievous glint in their eye. “You’re gonna need all the help you can get,” they said with a cackle. Their cackling picked up in volume as Miles entered the cafeteria and they took a flying leap at him. While Danny watched the two overbalance and fall over, he couldn’t help but imagine the look on Anjie's face when he finally won a bet against them.

- - -

“They’ve got you beat, dude,” Matt said as set down another card.

“No, I just have to avoid making puns. No problem.” Danny scoffed, putting down a red and green three. “I’m a little insulted that they think I couldn’t last a week.”

Joey set down a blue three. “Uno.” The other three cursed in unison.

Patrick took his time deliberating his next move, his finger hovering over the 15 cards in his hand. Matt reached over for the popcorn while adding to his previous thought, “I don’t know, man. Considering they picked the week of the fashion show, don’t you think you’re walking into a losing battle?”

“You’re exaggerating.” He turned to lean his back against the counter and sagged against it as his coffee brewed. “It’s just puns. It won’t be that bad.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, gaze never leaving his cards. “And how is that supposed to alleviate your boredom?” He put down a blue skip turn and Matt slapped his arm.

Danny put down a blue seven. “Anjie’s definitely got some kind of plan. I mean, why else would they pick this specific bet during this specific weekend?” He grinned. “I can’t wait to see what they come up with.”

- - -

A few days after the start of the bet, Danny had managed to hold himself back pretty well, all things considering. He ended up telling the astronomy club, his suitemates, and a few other people from his classes about the bet, but no one had tried very hard to get him to crack. Most were content to wait and see what Anjie had in store. Danny was much the same, he mused to himself as he knocked on the door to Fiara’s dorm.

“Oh hey, Danny! Come in, come in.” Fiara opened the door wide. “Take off your shoes and take a seat on the big couch in the living room. I’ll bring out what I have so far and we can see how it looks on you.”

Danny looked around the living room and caught himself thinking it looked bigger and comfier than his own dorm, of which he wasn’t sure was possible since they both had the same basic furniture and layout. Not wanting to think about that too much, he shrugged to himself and plopped down on the couch. 

He practically melted into the pillows before his fingers brushed a leathery texture. Turning slightly, his eyes landed on a leather jacket draped over the armrest. He thought he saw a pun etched on the back and nearly slipped up and said something with how relaxed he was feeling.

It’s definitely not ideal that he’s probably seeing puns where he shouldn’t. He must have a bit of an overactive brain today since he hasn’t used his lightning wit in a while. Unfortunate, but manageable he supposed.

Fiara quickly returned with a long dress that faded from pink at the straps, to purple around the chest, and a darkening blue down to the hem. She also handed him a pair of heels before directing him to the bathroom. Danny took the chance to relax a bit before he noticed a framed picture of a stick of butter with butterfly wings flying over an open field and changed in record time. Fiara hummed as she eyed the dress, oblivious of his distress as she mumbled about possibly shortening the length.

“Okay, so you texted me your measurements before, but I’m still gonna check how it fits on you alright?” Danny gave his confirmation while staring resolutely ahead at a blank part of the wall. There was a banana suit stuffed in the crevice between an armchair and a side table and the more he looked at it, the more he wanted to pipe up with a ‘What’s with the suit? Did it not a- peel to you?’. He has his own pride in agreeing on bets based on honour, but more importantly, he knows Anjie and they’ve definitely found a way to continuously monitor his jokes until the end of the bet.

“Okay, move around a bit, let me know how it feels.” Danny slowly walked around the room, keeping his eyes above a certain point on the wall before he saw another framed picture hanging behind the couch. He froze and Fiara looked at him with concern. “Woah, hey, is something wrong? Is it too tight somewhere?”

Danny slowly shook his head and turned to look at her. “No, I’m- it’s good. Everything fits pretty well. I was just-” -he pressed his lips together tightly- “just admiring your decor."

“Oh!” Fiara smiled. “I actually picked out the decor myself. It’s great, isn’t it?”

Danny paused. The framed picture, a pond with a sign that said ‘Frog Parking Only. All Others Will Be Toad!’, mocked him relentlessly and simultaneously urged him to respond with ‘ toad -ally’. 

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before taking a deep breath and answering slowly. “It’s… nice.”

“Thank you. Now come back so I can look at the dress again.” She gestured to the space in front of her. 

The next ten minutes consisted of Fiara checking over the length and using safety pins to mark some parts of the dress. Danny spun a few times at her command and walked around a bit more before she was satisfied and sent him off to change.

- - -

The day of the fashion show was finally here and Danny couldn’t be any more grateful.

Day after day he was bombarded on his usual routes to his classes with such easy material to make a pun out of that it pained him to stay silent. He’d bit his tongue on more than one occasion in an attempt at self restraint. 

So it was safe to say, with just a few hours left until midnight, Danny was feeling confident and already anticipating his hard earned reward.

Of course, there were excited hugs and awe directed towards him while he practiced his walk backstage with Jessica, Kat, and Fiara as his audience, his friends having volunteered as models for other students, and Danny himself was ready to show off Fiara’s hard work. 

The show itself was a charitable event and thanks to the program being shared over Twitter the other day—which included a list of the volunteer models—a large influx of people showed up to buy tickets at the door. 

Most of them were from the astrology club, but there were a good few Danny had never seen before around campus. They might've been freshmen from an arts program or something. Maybe they were fashion design majors seeing as many of the fashion design students working with their own models were completely new faces for him.

The host of the show, having greeted the attendees at the door while he helped the cashier to speed things along, had made sure to ask a few groups what brought them here. When most of them said they were here to support their friend, specifically Danny, the host got a gleam in his eye and reordered the models to have Danny walk at the end, mostly to keep them watching the show for the whole time. There were snacks and pop up clothes booths that needed to make sales after all and the host was very dedicated to the success of this event.

The time crept ever closer to the start of the show and with each passing minute, Fiara seemed to grow more and more frantic as she fussed over the finishings on the dress, pulling away invisible strands of thread, messing with the sleeves, and circling Danny over and over again. He did his best to keep her calm, but ultimately her roommate was able to pull her out of her own head.

Granted, Fiara’s roommate wasn’t actually present with them backstage. In fact, Misha just attempted to walk backstage despite the large sign indicating each person needed a pass for entry as well as the bodyguards right next to the door. 

They bulldozed their way in, dodging the bodyguards and running up to Fiara with a grin before the bodyguards caught up to them.

“You got this, Fi!” they yelled as they were dragged out of the room.

Fiara sighed heavily and her shoulders slumped as she followed security to the door to explain that no, Misha was not dangerous and yes, Fiara does know who they are and can vouch that they were harmless. Her roommate gave her another encouraging shout before they were escorted out the door completely with a stern order to stay outside.

Danny smiled. Internally, he was glad Fiara’s roommate showed up. Now that she was calm, Danny himself was starting to relax more and focus on the show itself.

“10 minutes to curtain everyone! 10 minutes!” The events lead yelled. “Sound and lights, do your last checks, designers make sure your models are ready, makeup artists if you want to see the show you might want to start packing up!”

Fiara took a deep breath. “Okay, okay, this is fine. You’ll be fine. You look great and you’re going to blow them away.”

And she was right.

The other models walked down the runway earning many brief cheers and ‘ooh’s and ‘ah’s, but when Danny walked on stage, the brief cheers echoed in the room far louder than before.

Danny walked out with his head held high, a long cape in the same colours as the dress flowing behind him. His dark blue heels clicked as he walked down the runway and he kept looking ahead, even as the astrology club whistled and hollered. 

When he passed the halfway point, he pulled the cape down to his elbows and let everyone see the dress in full.

The two toned dress was now just above knee height, with silver glitter around the ends of the dress and becoming more and more sparse as it traveled up towards the chest. The pink to purple to blue colour scheme coupled with the glitter made the dress seem as if it were made from the darkening sky and stars themselves.

The show didn’t last very long after that, but many were struck by the fabulous designs that night, especially Fiara’s dress. So much so that a few students asked her about commissions for their graduation clothes in the future.

Better yet, the night was almost over and Danny hadn’t had to strain himself all day. There was not a pun worthy thing in sight and he was about to cruise all the way to midnight with an easy win. He would’ve been worried with all the astronomy club members showing up, but with how much they were focused on the show, he could probably just avoid them until the clock struck twelve. Hell, Anjie wasn’t even in the crowd!

He rubbed his hands together with an evil smirk. That’ll show Anjie a thing or two about his self control. And the point will certainly be driven home once they give him his reward.

Actually, now that he thought of it, where was Anjie? Surely they wouldn’t miss a last opportunity to dramatically try to get him to crack? Danny narrowed his eyes. Something was suspicious about all of this. 

Although, as the minutes ticked down and the time grew closer and closer to midnight, Danny decided to abandon his search for the little troll and just relax among his friends. He steered questions about the dress from Suzy, Sophie, and a few others to Fiara, encouraged a toast in her honor, and got incredibly excited as the club talked about plans to watch a meteor shower coming up. 

With only minutes left until midnight, Danny lazily sipped on a glass of sparkling apple cider, content to watch everyone else as he earned his first win in a bet with Anjie. 

But alas, he should’ve known it could never be that easy.

At exactly 11:58pm, Anjie appeared holding a leather jacket Danny had never seen before, while wearing a blue button up and slacks. They went around greeting their fellow club members and showing off their new jacket, though never putting it on. 

Soon, Danny understood exactly why.

He caught a good look of it while they were presenting it to Jessica and Kat.

On the back of the jacket, in large bold letters, it read: 

INVISIBLE JACKET

(it’s made of hide)

How was no one taking the golden opportunity to say anything? If someone else would just say it, he could at least laugh along! He swiveled his head to the other members of the club who greeted Anjie normally, not mentioning anything about the jacket beyond a general compliment or two. And now that he looked closer, it looked somewhat …familiar.

Danny’s eyes widened. This was planned. All of it was planned. The easy days at the start with nothing pun-worthy in sight, the decor in Fiara’s dorm, nearly the entire club showing up at the door without prepaid tickets. All of it led to this fucking moment.

Anjie walked up to him, a smug look on their face. “Hey there Danny, you look great. Is that the dress Fiara made?”

Danny pursed his lips. He couldn’t open his mouth now. The second his lips parted it would be all over. He can hold it though. He can handle staying silent for two minutes.

“Aww what’s with the silent treatment? Did I do something to upset you?” The smirk on their lips grew wider. “Or is my formal wear nice enough to leave you speechless?” They waggled their eyebrows as they held up their jacket.

Danny stayed resolutely silent. All he had to do was wait. As soon as it was one second past midnight, he could let loose without consequence. He could wait. He could definitely wait.

Anjie shook their head, the smirk never leaving their face. “You know, I’m kind of offended. Maybe I should go back to my dorm and change into something else.” 

Danny cursed internally in as many languages as possible, trying to pass the time and distract himself before his self restraint slipped.

Anjie sighed, their smirk growing wider. “Well, I guess I’d better go change.” They leveled Danny with one more evil look, before stretching the leather in their hands a bit, making the letters easier to read. “Though, before I go, what do you think of the jacket?”

With a brief mourning for his win and dread for the consequences to come, Danny blurted out, 

“It’s a great jacket, but I can’t see you pulling it off.”

- - - - - - - - - -

End notes!

another scene I really, really wanted to fit in somehow, but couldn't:

Danny, who now has to make everything Anjie does 100% more dramatic for three nonconsecutive days: how could you betray me like this? you were my designer QwQ

Fiara, wincing: sorry, but Misha promised they'd model my end-of-the-semester project. that's a once in a lifetime opportunity where I can finally stuff them into nice clothes with minimal complaints.

Danny: what could your roommate possibly gain from Anjie being more dramatic?

Misha, off to the side: lost my favorite T square in the rafters of the engineering building. if Anjie won, they said you could get it down.

Danny: why is your T square in the rafters?

Misha, looking at him as if he's stupid: because I needed a good excuse not to let a jerk borrow it. Why else would it be up there?

Fiara: they were also running on very little sleep meaning their impulse control just disappeared and they did the first thing they could think of. They also had their ladder privileges revoked last week.

Danny: why didn't Anjie—?

Misha: They also had their ladder privileges revoked.