#he beat the win count of anyone else by a mile

[russilton]

F1 I am in ur walls- Victor Martins and fuckin Isack Hadjar go on your 20 to watch for 2024 but not a mention of Fred Vesti?

Dishonour on all of you what the fuck

[teamatsumu]

CRUSH (ushijima wakatoshi x reader)

summary: wakatoshi has a crush.

word count: 720

warnings: fem!reader, its all just fluff

tags: @keiva1000

Ushijima knows he has fans. He might be simple-minded and a little oblivious, but he’s not stupid.

He knows girls stare at him from the balcony during practice. And he can hear their giggling when he passes them in the halls. Tendou often calls him Shiratorizawa’s Golden Boy, which Ushijima wholeheartedly disagrees with, but never voices out loud. Tendou often says strange things. He doesn’t mind.

Ushijima doesn’t understand his popularity. Sure, he is a good player. The best ace in the prefecture. But most of these girls have no understanding of volleyball. So why are they spending hours upon hours in the stands, watching him play?

“They’re not watching the match, Wakatoshi-kun. They are watching you.”

Hm. Strange. His play is very consistent. Watching him do the same thing over and over has to get boring, especially when they aren’t watching for the sake of the game.

But then he sees you for the first time.

You are in his third year English class. In his three years of high school, Ushijima is sure he has never seen you before. Because if he had, there was no way he would forget you.

He is curious. And a little enamored by you.

You are, by all means, a regular girl. You sit on the same chair every day, bring your own bento instead of eating from the cafeteria. It is always wrapped in a pretty multicolored patterned cloth, done up in a knot on top. You have a small stuffed cat chain on the zipper of your backpack. And you wear your hair differently every day. Some days it is tied up, some days it is let down. And some days it is half-up and half-down. You have one pink bunny hairclip that you wear maybe once every two or three days that Ushijima thinks is very cute. Your uniform is always immaculate.

There are so many tiny details about you that Ushijima has learned, and he finally understands why girls would stay hanging over the gym balcony to watch him for hours, because he could watch you for hours too.

You are very smart, he could tell. You always answer correctly when the teacher would call on you, and he has glimpsed at your notes. Simple, but neat and easy to understand, just the way he likes it. There are no crazy colors and highlighters, and your handwriting is neat and beautiful, just like the rest of you.

You are also quiet. You have a select group of friends that you talk to, and while you are nice to anyone who interacts with you, you don't go out of your way to stand out. Again, Ushijima loves that. It seems he loved everything about you. All the minor details that make you a little bit more unique to everyone else.

When you show up at his game, he nearly loses his focus.

It in’t an important game by any means, just a practice match with another local university team. So why are you here? Have your friends dragged you along? Or are you here by your own volition? Ushijima feels how sweaty his palms are when he clenches his fists, and it surprises him.

Is he….. nervous?

Why? Because you are watching? How ridiculous. Ushijima has never once doubted his own strength, or his ability to win. How could your presence alter that? The thought annoys him, and he is determined to prove that you being here would not be a hindrance to his play.

Turns out, he needn't have worried. It seems your presence had sharpened his senses more than ever. Shiratorizawa won in straight sets, and of the 50 points they scored, 39 had been from Ushijima’s hand.

“You were on fire today, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou comments as the final whistle rings. Ushijima unintentionally glances at you in the stands, cheering for the team. Cheering for him.

His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he doesn’t think it is because of the game he had just played. He hears Tendou let out a dreamy sigh.

“Ah, the miracles of having a crush.”

He feels his lips tick up in a tiny smile as he throws a towel over his shoulders. Tendou is wrong. Ushijima doesn’t think he has a crush.

He thinks he is in love.

[reidmotif]

Always Bet on Black

Summary: Reader realizes she has an advantage at the Bureau's Casino Night, when Spencer can't seem to take his eyes off her and her dress.

Prompt: The BAU throws a casino night charity fundraiser. Spencer is a menace. Someone has to find a way to distract him.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: drinking, gambling (i have never gambled in my life nor have i played poker or blackjack. this will be super apparent in this fic. many apologies), nipple play, oral sex (f!receiving) hickies, Reader POV, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist

“And that’s another win to the gentleman on my right!”  The dealer announces for what feels like the millionth time that night. There's a shit-eating grin on Spencer Reid’s face as he leans over the blackjack table, wrapping his arms around the hearty stack of chips in an almost in an exaggerated manner, pulling it back towards him much to everyone’s dismay. 

My dismay, especially, because while- yes, this is for charity, and what Spencer’s doing could be characterized as noble in some roundabout way, it was getting a bit repetitive. Spencer was so focused, a thousand times more than anyone else at that table, his brain working a million miles a minute to provide him with the best course of action when it came to gambling.  

And so far? It worked perfectly. While everyone else was taking their chances and betting away, praying that the odds would line up in their favor, Spencer Reid did fucking math, and suddenly the odds were his bitch.  I was beginning to understand why every casino in Las Vegas had him banned now. If he was giving the BAU Casino Night a run for their money like this, I can’t imagine the Bellagio being too pleased with having him either. 

I sighed at the thought, and it seemed Spencer picked up on it, the corners of his lips turning upwards, trying to feign a chagrin expression as he stacked his chips on top of the other. 

“Something wrong, (Y/N)?” He says, looking at me. “Are you not enjoying yourself?” 

Spencer Reid is usually nice, humble, and sweet. In all honesty, I should not be feeling this hostile and sore at the fact that he’d managed to beat me almost every single time we’d played blackjack. My embarrassment was only heightened when I thought of how I’d (stupidly) bragged beforehand that I’d never lost a game in college. 

How quickly my streak was destroyed. 

My pride was bruised, and the man in front of me knew it. 

“I’m enjoying myself just fine.” I say, trying not to grit my teeth as I say the words. 

“You look a bit hot.” He says, referring to my face that had gotten slightly red after the most recent loss I’d taken. “Would you like me to get you a drink?” He asks, his gaze turning less cocky, and more sweet and polite. 

I melt a bit. “Okay. No need to be a sore loser.” I think to myself. “This is a sweet man, and he’s offering you a drink. Yes, he’s destroying you right now and knows it, but it’s not like he’s acting like a complete dick about it.”

I nod at his words, sending a small smile his way. 

“A drink would be great actually.” I finally respond, and he gets up, pushing his chair in. 

“I’ll be right back.” He says, turning away from me, and sauntering towards the bar.

 I take a second to admire him as he walks away, the suit and tie ensemble he picked out for the night complimenting him so well. I’d never say it out loud, considering we were coworkers, but something about seeing him so dapper, so much more.. mature brought out a warm feeling in my stomach, one that made me shift in my seat as I tried to rid myself of thoughts of grabbing him by his tie, placing a hand on his perfectly sculpted jawline, pulling him against me and- no! 

He. Is. Your. Colleague. Snap out of it! 

In lieu of my wandering thoughts, I’d realized I had actually heated up quite a few degrees and in an attempt to combat the sudden body heat, I shrugged off the shawl I’d been donning for most of the night. I felt the cool air hit my exposed shoulders and chest, and relaxed a bit, starting to feel my temperature lower. Right as I did so,  Spencer returned to his seat, holding two drinks. 

I turn towards him, still seated. He’s sitting in his seat, facing towards me as well, and I instinctively reach over to grab the drink in his hand, expecting him to meet me halfway and transfer the cup to me.  But instead of the expected interaction, he seems a bit dazed, an intense expression on his face as he bored his eyes into me, studying me almost. It’s an expression that causes me to raise my eyebrows at him. 

“Spencer?” I say. “Hello?” I wave my hand a bit, trying to break him from his trance. “The drinks?” I add, and that’s what seems to break him out of his preoccupied stupor. He blinks a bit before shaking his head.

“Sorry. Sorry. I spaced out there for a moment.” He says, hastily handing me my glass and turning away completely from me, taking a sip out of his. I can notice a small tremor in his hand as he sets down the liquid on the table, and I’m a bit concerned. He was just fine a moment ago. Did someone say something whilst he was at the bar? Did he choose to ponder some life-changing information as he took his seat at the table? Was he losing it for no reason at all? 

Regardless of what it was, I didn’t have the time to contemplate it further or question him about it because the dealer was beginning to shuffle the deck of cards again. 

As the next game started, there was something fundamentally different about Spencer. He looked  almost panicked, even going as far as to loosen his tie as he played. I thought I’d maybe imagined the changes, until finally, I got a real indicator that something was off. For the first time that whole night- he lost. 

My mouth was agape as the dealer announced the house win, and as I looked between him and the table, he didn’t seem all that fazed, simply shrugging as he attempted to get up. Before he could slip away, I grabbed his arm and brought him a bit closer to me, so that I could speak to him over the sounds of the bustling party around us.

“Spencer- wait. Is something wrong?” I ask, the genuine concern in my tone apparent to anyone who might’ve walked by. 

“Yeah, no. Um. Why wouldn’t it be?” He says, his eyes everywhere except me. It was almost comical. The ceiling tiles couldn’t be that interesting. 

I grip his arm a little harder, urging him to look at me, to talk to me. “You lost! That hasn’t happened all night! Was someone- did something happen? Are you feeling okay?” I ask, my eyes trying to meet his. 

He gulps, finally looking at me. “Statistically, card counting can’t actually work every time so I was bound to lose at some point right?” He says, a little shakily, and despite his words making logical sense, the notion that something was wrong didn’t leave me. 

“You promise?” I say, looking at him as intensely as I possibly could to ensure he wouldn’t try to evade giving me an honest answer. 

He gives his signature, flat smile, nodding. “I’ll be fine. Look. I’m gonna go play some other games. Maybe rack up my luck somewhere else.” 

I lick my lips and finally let go of his arm, nodding. “Have fun.” I say, and he gives me a little wave. 

“You too.” 

For the next hour or so, I found myself dabbling at the other assortment of games offered by the Bureau that night, until yet again, my path crossed with Spencer, who seemed to be on a pretty hefty winning streak- if the stack of chips he’d accumulated wasn’t a clear sign of that already. 

I stood by the table, slightly out of his view,  a little amazed by the way his eyes followed the deck and everyone’s movements so precisely. The level of focus required to do what he was was absolutely no joke, and I couldn’t help but admire in silent awe at the exactness of the whole process. It only made him that much more attractive in that moment, if that was even possible. 

“Royal flush.” He announces, fanning his cards as everyone at the table groans. It’s only then when his gaze meets mine, watching him, and I can observe the signs of a tell-tale blush creeping up his neck. Odd.

“(Y/N)! Hello.” He says, quickly. “Still liking the party?” 

“I am, thank you.” I say, my eyebrows slightly furrowing at how oddly he’s behaving. “Mind if I join the next round?” I ask, already starting to take my seat. 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” He says, clearing his throat and turning his entire body away from me. Spencer and I usually got along just fine. There was nothing ever particularly sour about our relationship, and I’d like to think that in the time I’d spent at the Bureau, our shared experiences had brought us closer. However, the way he was acting as of right now, like we were strangers or mere acquaintances threw me off beyond belief. 

It was official, something was off.

I leaned over a little closer, trying to get him to look at me.

“Spencer, I know I’ve already asked but is anything-“ I start, and I can see him glance over, and then almost rapidly turn his gaze away.

“No! Nothing’s wrong. Let’s play.” He rushes out, his words teetering on almost being high pitched. 

It didn’t evade me however, in that short microsecond he took to look at me, his gaze dropped partially down. I internally followed his line of sight to realize that my breasts were practically spilling from my dress. I knew that it was a bit showy, but didn’t think much of it when I’d chosen to wear it for this occasion. The event was black-tie, and so I’d fished out a number I’d haphazardly bought during an online shopping spree. It was black and sparkly, but the main caveat of the dress was the gorgeous bodice in the front, managing to give a good show of cleavage whilst pushing up my breasts and making them all that more appealing to anyone who noticed.  I began to connect the events of the night, realizing that someone clearly had noticed.

Spencer’s losing streak had coincidentally begun once I’d lost the shawl that was once covering my chest. 

An idea slowly entered my head. An experiment, if you will. As we started another game, I barely paid attention as my fingers slid over to what looked like a glass of water on Spencer’s side. 

“Spence?” I murmur, tapping his shoulder.

“Mm?” He asks, not even taking a moment to look away from his cards. 

“Mind if I take a sip from your water?” I ask, keeping my voice saccharine and innocent.

I can see the look he shoots me, his eyes slightly narrowed in surprise but he quickly looks away. “Yeah, um. Sure. Go ahead.” He responds dismissively, as if talking to me for even a second longer would result in him breaking out in hives. 

 Totally out of character. For all the closeness in the world, Spencer Reid would never have shared a glass of water. 

As I began to sip the water, I did something that could be categorized as deeply stupid, but in the name of my experiment, it was absolutely necessary. I slightly tipped the glass, allowing the cool water to run down my neck and drip onto the swell of my breasts. I made a show of getting up, touching my chest to try and rid myself of the moisture that was now coating my breasts. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’ll get you another glass of water.” I say,letting my breasts bounce a bit as I stand up,  and when he looks at me, it’s more apparent than ever that his eyes aren’t gracing mine anytime soon. Not when I was like this. 

I grinned in secret as I turned around,  quickly bringing over a replacement glass to him, leaning over so that if he were to simply turn his head even slightly to his left, he’d get a direct look at what he simply couldn’t seem to take his eyes or mind off tonight. 

“Uh. Thanks.” He stammers again, shakily drinking the water as he miserably failed at not looking. Bingo. 

When the next round of our game commenced, he lost horrifically, as expected. His mind was in an entirely different dimension, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride, knowing it was me who’d rendered him dumb. So unfocused. So unlike himself. It wasn’t until I felt a tap on my shoulder, noticing Spencer’s hand carrying out the action. 

“Walk with me.” He says, simply. His tone was so sharp and commanding, I found myself listening with no hesitation, following as we moved to a more secluded bit of the party. 

“What are you doing?” He asks in an accusatory tone, his voice a hushed whisper. 

“What do you mean?” I respond, a faux naivete in my words, which he only scoffed at. He leaned in closer, his brows furrowed. I could notice a small vein popping out from his forehead, and the sight only increased the ache I’d begun to feel in my panties since he’d directed me here. 

“You know what I mean.” He says, dangerously. “You’re flaunting yourself.” He adds, his jaw tight. “You know what it’s doing to me. You’re enjoying it.” I could tell he wanted to say so much more, the grit in his tone leading me to believe there were some much cruder words he wished to utter to me.

 Regardless, the authority in his tone only spurred me to try and resist. It was so hot watching him like this. Maybe a bit fucked up to say that, but it didn’t matter in that moment. I only wanted to test the limits. To see the new man I could bring out in Spencer Reid tonight. 

“So what if I am?” I say, biting my lip. “It’s a party, Spencer. We’re all having fun, aren’t we?” 

“No.” He responds, darkly. “I’m not having fun.” 

A proposal came to mind. One I knew that would pan out deliciously, since I’d now gotten a look into his extensive lust tonight, and just how desperate he seemed. I leaned forward to whisper to him, my lips teasing the outer shell of his ear. 

“Win another game, and I’ll show you just how much fun you could be having.”

He immediately pulls back. His eyes narrow, and I can see the weight of my words course through his mind, evaluating the odds of my statement before clicking his tongue. 

“See you in 30 minutes.” is his response, as he walks away, beckoning me to follow him to yet another Blackjack table. I grin, sitting beside him. 

My presence doesn’t seem to phase Spencer whatsoever this time around, his laser-point focus uninterrupted even as I stared shamelessly at him. It wasn't until the game seemed to be reaching its turning point, in which Spencer had to decide whether drawing or staying would bring forth a better outcome for him. I watched as he mulled over the decision for a few seconds before his eyes locked onto mine, gaze intense. 

“Draw.” He voices, not even paying mind as the dealer announced his win. 

Spencer gets up without a word, and I can see him head towards a hallway that houses a few restrooms in the building. 

“Sir- your winnings!” The dealer calls out, but I smile apologetically, starting to follow Spencer to a more secluded area of the party.

“Sorry. He’s probably a bit preoccupied. I’ll let him know!” I respond, already turning around and making my way to the same hallway Spencer had gone down, finding the bathroom and opening it. I knew Spencer would be there, but what I didn’t expect was to be pulled into his arms, greeted by Spencer’s lips insistently pressing against mine, his free hand clutching the back of my head, as his other hand went to click the lock into place. I responded with a momentary bout of shock, but quickly found myself melting into his touch, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

“You like watching me lose, is that it?” He whispers harshly, in between kisses. I can feel the anger, the lust and passion, all rolling into one as his lips meet mine, over and over again, creating the sweetest of sensations that wracked my whole body. 

“Mm. Not just you losing. You losing because you’re distracted. Because of me.” I say, my tone a bit dazed and breathy from the intensity he was putting me through. 

“Can you blame me?” He murmurs, his lips now trailing down my neck, paying close mind to a particular spot on the side that left my knees weak. “You wear this dress and expect me to not take my eyes off of you?” 

His hot breath grazes over my skin and I can feel myself shiver. I’m completely overwhelmed by him. The feel of his hands caressing the small of my back and waist, his smell of his cologne wafting around me. I can only breathe unsteadily, and hold onto him, a needy whimper slipping past my lips. 

“Shh. You’re okay. I got you.” He murmurs. His tone was sweet, soothing, but his actions were anything but, as his fingers slipped around to find the zipper on my dress. 

In an instant, his mouth was finally all over my breasts, his mouth leaving a few marks on the expanse of my chest before his tongue began to sweep over my nipples, swirling around the raised bud, leaving me grappling to his shoulders, as more moans poured out from within me. 

“You like that?” He breathes against my skin, and I nod, frantically. I’d never expected to go this weak, but he was so much more skilled with his mouth than I’d ever expected.

“Please. Keep going.” I moan, and I can feel his hands on my thighs, urging me into his arms. I comply, and can feel myself be lifted to the bathroom counter, his hands squeezing the fat of my hips before dropping to his knees. His fingers looped around my underwear, and I attempted to move in a way that would aid him in their removal. As soon as they were off, he stuffed them into his pocket, and moved to lift my dress up, his face disappearing into my now spread legs. 

And suddenly he was everywhere, tongue swiping over my clit in rapid motions, flicking against me in a way that had me immediately squeezing my thighs around his face, to which Spencer responded by pushing them apart, leaving me shaking. 

“Oh god, Spencer. Oh-” I moan, over and over again, my hand gripping onto the strands of his hair. My eyes squeeze shut as I feel my orgasm rapidly approaching, my legs trembling more than ever. 

“Spencer- I’m gonna-” I groan out, my grip tightening, and I look down, watching him devour me with so much precision and focus, the same I’d seen during his playing all night. I watched as his eyes met mine, his lips sucking around my clit and in a fit of moans, I found myself releasing all over his tongue, my body shuddering as he worked me through my orgasm, moaning against my core. 

He rose from his knees and planted a long, deep kiss on my lips, and I moaned as I tasted myself on him. My hands started to go for his belt, desperate to feel this man inside me. As soon as his cock was freed from the confines of his briefs, I guided him towards my entrance, gasping as I felt him push into me, immediately filling me up. I breathed in sharply from the pleasure of the sensation, my eyes screwing shut before opening them to see his eyes staring back at me. He gave me a moment to adjust, watching my face for any sign of discomfort, but there was none, only the carnal desperation I felt for this man. I nodded to let him know I was ready,  and suddenly, like a man possessed, he began to jut his hips towards mine, causing me to whimper and dig my nails into his back. 

He moaned as he slammed into me, over and over again, while his mouth kissed at my neck, at my jaw, my lips, murmuring my praises over and over again. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” He groans, my hips firmly gripped by his large hands, keeping me from slipping off the counter. “And that dress. Fuck. God, I want you.” 

I nod, too overwhelmed with pleasure to even speak, rather opting to moan his name and nod furiously. 

He kept one hand on my hip, while the other trailed down to where we were joined, and began to rub fast, hard circles over my already sensitive bud, the action causing me to gasp out and open my eyes, letting him know that my second release of the night was inevitable. 

“You wanna cum, pretty girl?” He mumbles, keeping his voice low and his fingers diligent on my clit. 

“Please,” I sob out, my voice breaking with just how much I needed this right now. How much I needed him. 

“Come for me.” He murmurs, and as if under a spell, I do, coming undone rapidly in his grasp, my head falling against his shoulder as he continues the movement of his hips until I feel him still, and then spill into me, his breath heavy and chest heaving. 

I pull back, my forehead meeting his as he stares at me in a bit of a trance, our breaths mingling as we both came down from what had just happened. 

“I think.. you should probably cover up.. after that.” He murmurs, grinning a bit at the wide array of marks he’d just left on my neck and chest, undeniably exposing us. 

“Right you are.” I giggle back, leaning in for another kiss.  This time sweeter, softer.

I was definitely wearing this dress again for him.

  hello!! oh my god!! it has been so long since i've posted a fic. finals are over! i am free! i promise we will be back to a more normal schedule now (can i do weekly fics? who knows. i'll try). as usual, thank you for any and all reblogs, likes and comments. it's been a long time since i've even thought about writing, so i hope this is up to everyone's standards. this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins office party challenge. so, you know. look at the other fics there too! sorry for clearly not knowing anything about card games. also also, just a fun fact. i envisioned readers dress being meredith grey's prom dress from s2ep27.. hehe. okay, i've already talked enough. thank you thank you thank you for reading and supporting!!!

[jammie3132]

Fandom: Glee Pairing: Blaine Anderson & Sebastian Smythe Summary: How Sebastian and Blaine met their daughter 10 Days of Seblaine 2023 Day 5: Parent AU Part 1 of Poppy's Little Angel Dedicated to @seblaineaddict

Back during the Great Warbler-New Directions Show Choir Feud of 2011-2012, if you asked Sebastian Smythe if he hated Kurt Hummel, you’d never receive a straight answer. He’d say something about how dogs within a 10-mile radius of Hummel singing need noise cancelling earphones or it was animal cruelty.

Or, how Hummel constantly looked constipated.

Or, Hummel should learn to count to 8 so maybe, just maybe, he could pretend to know how to dance.

However, he’d never say he hated Kurt Hummel because he didn’t. The boy fascinated him. What the hell kind of voodoo fairy magic did the guy possess to get someone as amazing as Blaine Anderson fall for him? It was impossible to understand…much like Hummel’s wardrobe choices.

Then in 2013 Sebastian Smythe watched Blaine Anderson propose to Kurt Hummel. That’s when he began to hate Kurt Hummel.

But today, almost a decade later, Sebastian Anderson-Smythe hated Kurt Hummel more than he had ever hated anything, including his father when he threatened to disown him for dropping out of Columbia. The SOB (Hummel, not his father…this time) had Blaine in court with yet another frivolous attempt to get money…aka, make their lives miserable because they had the audacity to get married when Blaine was his soulmate.

Yet he, Blaine’s husband and true soulmate, wasn’t allowed to be in court to support him. So, what if the first time he saw the delusional asshole after reconnecting with Blaine, Blaine and Sam basically had to tackle him so he didn’t punch him and get arrested? Although, watching Brittany smack and then verbally humiliate Hummel in front of a nightclub full of onlookers with cellphones was almost as satisfying as if he’d done it himself.

Last he checked Beautiful Blonde tells off friend’s jealous Ex had almost 2 million views.

Sebastian walked to their bookcase and picked up their wedding photo. It was hard to believe it had only been 5 weeks. As he put it back on the shelf, for the first time he realized what Blaine else put on the shelf. The items told the story of how they got to this point.

Their wedding photo was front and center. Next to it was their Tonys for West Side Story along with a photo of the two of them looking dapper in their tuxedos.

It was unusual for an actor in revival to win Lead Actor in a Musical, but he’d known for years Blaine was the perfect Tony. There was never a doubt in anyone’s mind he would win.

His win was the polar opposite. An actor from a revival winning Featured Actor? You didn’t win unless you were a Hollywood actor slumming on Broadway. At least that’s what one of the guys he beat was screaming at his agent during the afterparty. Let’s just say those in the theater community didn’t take the term slumming well.

On the other side of the wedding photo were two others. One was from the first time they met. They looked so young…him in his Dalton uniform, Blaine in the infamous grey striped cardigan. Thad gave it to them as a wedding gift. He said he knew from that moment they’d wind up married someday.

The other photo was his favorite (except the wedding photo, of course). It was a picture from the first day for the entire cast. While they were mingling and introducing themselves, the director came to him and asked him to come with him. He wanted his Tony and Riff to begin working on their dynamic.

He hadn’t taken three steps when he heard You’ve got to be shitting me! followed by Blaine running across the stage, jumping into his arms and knocking them both to the ground.

The actual photo was the two of them sitting on the floor laughing. At some point they held it together long enough to tell the rest of the cast and crew they’d known each other back in Ohio. Also, that while Blaine was friendly (like a puppy), he wouldn’t be tackling anyone else…at least until he knew them better.

Instead of getting to know each other, the director sent them off to get reacquainted. There was a lot to talk about but he thought it best to get through the hard stuff first.

Blaine Anderson? Not Anderson-Hummel or worse, Hummel-Anderson?

Nope, Kurt always said hyphenating our names wouldn’t work for Broadway marquees.

I’ve got to ask. How freaked out is your hubby going to be about me being Riff to your Tony?

Sebastian, the universe has a wacky sense of timing but sometimes you have to trust everything will work out how it’s supposed to.

I don’t understand.

(Blaine pulls his phone out of his pocket and smiles) Today the universe decided to bring you back into my life at the exact same time

I had Kurt served with divorce papers.

No shit?

Oh, it gets better. Since Kurt was throwing one of his temper tantrums and wouldn’t speak to me unless I gave up Tony, which I obviously didn’t, my attorney suggested I wait 30 days to file so I could serve him with legal separation papers at the same time.

Did it work?

The text I received was from my attorney saying mission accomplished. That means Sam, Santana and Brittany are taking me out tonight to celebrate. Want to come?

As a date?

No, but not as a fuck you to Kurt either. We both know I did a shitty job hiding my attraction to you back in high school.

We both did, but it’s nice to hear you admit it.

Well, we’re about to spend A LOT of time together. If things work out in ways I hope they might, I don’t want you to believe you were a rebound or worse, I was using you to get back at Kurt.

Blaine

Yes, Sebastian

I would love to go out and celebrate with you and your friends tonight. But could you do me a favor?

What?

Warn Santana so I don’t get a drink thrown in my face.

I can try but she’s been plotting her revenge against you for years.

When he heard the key in the lock, Sebastian quickly straightened the shelf then hustled to the couch to make it seem like he hadn’t been waiting. Seeing the man he loves walk into the apartment looking completely exhausted but wearing a smile, allowed him to (somewhat) relax. “Everything went ok?”

Blaine took off his blazer and tie as he sat beside him. “As ok as things could go when dealing with Kurt. The judge threw out his claim for half my stake in the musical as well as his renewed claim for spousal support.”

“So, in other words, a colossal waste of time?”

“Yup. However, he will think twice before filing for another obvious cash grab, the judge’s words. Kurt was ordered to pay all my attorney’s fees.”

“About fucking time! Damn it B, you’ve been divorced from his sorry ass for a year, and you were legally separated from his gay face for 8 months prior to that!”

“Bas…”

“We’ve been married 5 weeks, 5 fucking weeks! We lost half our honeymoon because you had to come back for this bullshit!!”

Blaine kissed his love then went to their bedroom. Less than 15 minutes later he was back wearing lounge pants and an NYU t-shirt, while carrying two beers. “Feel better now that you got that off your chest?” he asked as he rejoined his husband.

“No…maybe a little. I, I just can’t stand the thought of you alone with that asshole, and I’m assuming Berry.”

“Don't pull the alone card. You know Santana was with me. Brittany would’ve come too, but you know, the restraining order.”

Nothing came from Brittany and Hummel's viral moment. It was months later when things went off the deep end.

Sebastian, Brittany, Sam and Santana all took the day off for Blaine's divorce hearing. They were there for support, but ready to be rebuttal witnesses if necessary. When Kurt took the stand, for reasons unknown to this day, he was stupid enough to go on a verbal diatribe on how he backed into a corner and forced into getting married in a tacky barn, in a tacky suit, with tacky guests he never would’ve invited. He wouldn't stop with the tacky-tacky-tacky…bitch-bitch-bitch…until Brittany ran to the witness box went all MMA before the bailiff could pull her off. Kurt refused to press charges but was awarded a restraining order.

“Did Santana have to take the stand?”

“No, but Benj made it back from LA in time to testify.”

“How did that happen?”

“One of the investors asked where I was and Benj told them in court because Kurt was going after half my stake. Long story short…meeting went from three days to one but the by time he and Justin made it to the airport it was past midnight here.”

“Is that why he didn’t call?”

“Pretty much. I would have won without him, but since Benj was part of Machiavelli the Musical from the beginning he could refute all Kurt's claims he contributed to songs I wrote. You should have seen Kurt's face when my attorney asked him to sing one of his contributions. He…” Blaine ended his explanation when Sebastian’s phone rang (and he ignored it) for the fourth time during their short conversation.

“Aren’t you going to get that? Someone seems awfully determined to speak with you.”

“It’s my Aunt Marie. As much as I love my cousin, I couldn’t deal with any of Penny’s drama. Today my focus was you and what was happening in court…which I wasn’t allowed to attend.”

Blaine rolled his eyes before pulling Sebastian down until his head was in his lap. In the 18 months they’d officially been together (he was legally separated!), he’d learned running his fingers through his (now) husband’s hair was the best trick to calm him down.

Their sex life was anything but calm.

“We already covered this…at nauseam. The reason you were asked not to attend is because you, my big…strong…incredibly sexy husband, cannot control your disdain for my former husband. Your protective nature is one of the many, many reasons I love you.”

“But…”

“A huge portion of our strategy was to demonstrate how irrational Kurt truly is. My attorney was able to get him to throw a tantrum on several occasions. He was even able to get Rachel to corroborate several points of Santana’s testimony on threat of perjury.”

“But…”

“Bas, my love, my day in court with Kurt went better than expected with him having to pay my attorney fees. The judge also laid into him on how a finalized divorce, unless it involves children or fraud, means final…closed…the end. Move on!” Sebastian’s phone rang again, but this time Blaine could reach it. “Talk to her. While you’re doing that, I’ll call for pizza. I’m starving.”

Blaine went to the kitchen to call their favorite pizzeria and then Sam to answer any questions he might have about what happened in court. He assumed Santana had already called him with her version (he was right). It was almost 45 minutes later until he rejoined Sebastian on the couch with their freshly delivered dinner. He was still on his phone and speaking in French, but not with his Aunt Marie.

“Grandmother, this is a lot to ask…But…But…Yes, Ma’am…Yes, Ma’am…No, Ma’am…I’ll talk to Blaine…Yes, immediately…I promise…Yes, I’ll call Aunt Marie…Grandmother, Blaine is here. I’ll call back soon. Bye.” Sebastian ended the call and asked “How much of that did you understand?”

“You really didn't say much. What I don’t understand is why you were talking with your grandmother.”

“Aunt Marie she thought Grandmother was the best person to tell me what’s going on.” Blaine reached for his hand to give him an anchor. “Whatever it is, I’m right here.”

Sebastian kissed him, hard, and then put their foreheads together. “I love you so much. I love the life we’re building so much. I…”

“Bas, you’re beginning to scare me.”

“Sorry, it’s…Penny had her baby this morning. She’s decided to put her up for adoption. Since this wasn’t her original plan, she hadn’t vetted any potential parents and she doesn’t want to hand over the baby to strangers. B, Penny wants us to adopt her.”

“The baby is a little girl?”

Sebastian pulled back and stared into Blaine’s eyes. He didn’t look confused...or crazy. “Yes, but you heard the part of how Penny wants us, you and me, to adopt her…right?”

“It’s not up to us.”

Huh? “Then who the hell is it up to?”

“The baby.” Blaine grabbed a piece of pizza before getting off the couch. “You start packing while I call Benj and Justin to tell them I’m going to Paris for a while. I’ll book plane tickets for first thing in the morning but could you pull our passports out so we don’t forget them? And call your Aunt Marie or Grandma to tell them we’re coming, but don’t want to see anyone until we’re settled. I’ll arrange…”

His husband kept rambling but Sebastian had stopped listening at The baby. “What the hell do you mean adopting a baby is not up to us, it’s up to the baby?! She’s not even a day old! Don’t you think this is something we should discuss?”

“That’s what the long-ass flight to Paris is for. And trust me on this…in the end, the decision of whether or not we’re about to become Daddies is up to that little girl.”

“Papas.” Sebastian’s response stopped both of them in their tracks. For the first time he didn’t sound like he was in freak-out mode. “She’s French. We’d be her Papas.”

“You’re right but let’s go ahead and put it on a list of things to discuss on the plane.”

Blaine turned to leave (again) but Sebastian stopped him (again). “You don’t think this is crazy? We’ve only been married 5 weeks!”

“Oh, I think this is completely insane, but what did I tell you the day we reconnected at West Side Story?”

Sebastian immediately knew what he meant. “The universe has a wacky sense of timing but sometimes you have to trust everything will work out how it’s supposed to.”

“Last time, the universe brought me you on the day I served Kurt with divorce papers. And I promise, I’m keeping an open mind on all this, but after what I went through in court today…”

“Maybe the universe decided to get a little more wacky to make up for your ex being delusional.”

Blaine took a bite of his pizza and then walked out of the room before Sebastian could interrupt him yet again. It was his turn to be overwhelmed.

Why the hell did he say It’s up to the baby to decide? He was barely into the process of developing Machiavelli the Musical into a full-blown Broadway production and for some unknown reason had agreed to star as Machiavelli. This was going to take a massive amount of his time for the foreseeable future. Sebastian was fully onboard but…

A baby?

Yes, his partners were ubertalented and more than capable of holding things down if he was in Paris for longer than he anticipated but…

A baby?

He took a few deep breaths, devoured his pizza, opened another beer and got to work on what needed to be done. As much they were still wears his heart on his sleeve Blaine Anderson and overly self-confident Sebastian Smythe, this time Blaine Anderson-Smythe had to be the levelheaded one.

A little over 36 hours later the potential fathers were in a private waiting room at the hospital. They had met the head of Child Services and the attorney Blaine’s father arranged for them. There was only one more person left to meet.

Blaine was sitting on a small loveseat while Sebastian was pacing the room, little pink blanket in hand.

They’d agreed not to get ahead of themselves by running out to a store and buy a bunch of baby stuff to take with them. When Blaine got back from meeting his partners, he found out he agreed.

Sebastian called Brittany and they bought out the baby girl section at Macy’s. After an hour of But Blaaaaaaine, he agreed to bringing two outfits and the little pink blanket but…

“I thought we agreed to leave the blanket in your suitcase for the time being?”

“Hospitals are so cold. What if she’s cold?”

Blaine sighed then stood and wrapped his arms around his husband. The pacing was getting annoying. “Bas…”

“B…”

They both froze then turned to face the door as the wails of a distraught baby filled the room. “Mr. and Mr. Anderson-Smythe, I’m Margot from Child Services. You spoke earlier with my supervisor. This is the child you’ve come all this way to meet. I’m sorry but the nurses report she’s been like this for as long as she’s been with them. The doctors insist she is perfectly healthy…”

Blaine let go of Sebastian and pushed him toward the transit crib. “Maybe she’s cold.”

He’d been holding it together for so long, it took Blaine everything within him not to burst with happiness as the man he loved wrapped the tiny girl in the little pink blanket then instinctively cradled her in his arms. “Are you cold, Angel? I brought you this blanket from NYC. My friend Brittany went to the store with me to find it. I’m glad she did because I wouldn’t have known to wash it first. Or that they make special detergents for babies. Or…”

“Bas” Sebastian reluctantly looked up to see Blaine holding his phone. After he took a picture, he asked “Do you realize she stopped crying the moment you wrapped her in the blanket?”

“She did?”

“The adoption lady was so shocked she left to talk to the nurses. We’ll probably see one of them soon with a bottle. Let’s go sit down. I’m kind of amazed you’re still standing.”

It was only a few moments after they were settled that the expected nurse and bottle appeared. She began a tutorial but, once again, Sebastian was a natural. “I take it you’ve done this before?”

“Never. She was just hungry. Were you hungry, Angel?”

“Alright, but when she’s finished…”

Sebastian handed the bottle to Blaine and began to gently rub the baby’s back, quickly earning him the desired results. “Are you ready for the rest of your bottle, Angel?”

Blaine gave the nurse a wink and promised if they needed anything they would use the call button. It wasn’t long before the bottle was discarded and the three of them were cuddled together on the love seat.

“I think she likes us B.”

“I think she likes you.”

It was only then Sebastian realized he hadn’t given Blaine a chance to hold the baby. “I’m sorry…I didn’t realize. Here you go, Angel. There’s someone else who really wants to meet you.”

They both quietly giggled after Blaine let out a sigh of relief. He’d been worried the once cranky baby wouldn’t take to him in the same way she did with Sebastian and start crying again. “Hello, little one. My name is Blaine.”

“But you can call him Daddy.”

Blaine kissed the baby’s forehead, then his husband. “Daddy? Not Papa?”

“If she calls us the same thing it would get confusing.” Sebastian leaned over and returned Blaine’s kiss. “You were right. She had to be the one to decide if she wanted to be our daughter. The fact she’s sleeping so peacefully must mean she knows she’s safe.”

“Safe?” Blaine questioned the wording because it wasn’t the one he expected.

“I thought you might get freaked out if I said love so soon.”

“Bas, new mothers talk about the overwhelming feeling of love they feel when they see their baby for the first time. I’m sure it’s natural for fathers too.”

Sebastian didn’t ask, just lifted the baby back into his arms. “Are you sure? Because I don’t know if I could let her go…”

Blaine answered him by beginning to sing to the baby.

One look at you My whole life falls in line I prayed for you Before I called you mine

Oh, I can't believe it's true sometimes Oh, I can't believe it's true

I get to love you It's the best thing that I'll ever do I get to love you It's a promise I'm making to you

Whatever may come, your heart I will choose Forever I'm yours, my forever is you

I get to love you I get to love you

By the time he finished, Sebastian was a blubbering mess. “That’s the song you wrote me for our wedding.”

“I remember. It was only 5 weeks ago” Blaine jokingly replied. “But seriously, are we really going to do this?” He held up his hand to stop an immediate response. “Getting the musical up and running on its own will be time consuming but I also agreed to play Mach for the first year. I mean, hopefully it’s a big enough hit we get to worry about my handing over the role. What I’m trying to say is, we agreed, if we do this, we don’t want her raised in daycare. That means for the next 18 months to 2 years, if not longer, you will be her primary parent…some days more like a single parent. Are you ready for that?”

“With the exception of you, I have never wanted anything more.” Sebastian looked down at the baby and asked “Angel, are you ready to go back to NYC and have fun with your Poppy while your brilliant Daddy works to win some more Tonys?”

He lifted the baby’s arm and began to lightly shake it while saying in a high-pitched voice “Yes, Poppy. As soon as the doctors say I can fly I want to go to NYC and have lots of fun with you and Auntie Tana and Auntie Britt and Uncle Sammy. Daddy will sing me songs and I will always know how much he loves me. And when Daddy’s new musical wins lots and lots of Tonys, everyone will cheer his talent and proclaim him to be the most talented Daddy in the whole wide world.”

It was Blaine’s turn to cry. “Then there is something the three of us better do soon so we can share our news.”

“What?”

“We have to help her choose her name.”

From Blaine: *attached photo* Sebastian and I are pleased to announce Miss Angelica Penelope Anderson-Smythe chose us to be her Poppy and Daddy. Of course, we emphatically agreed.

From Sebastian: *attached photo* Poppy’s Little Angel

NOTES:

The Prince, Niccolò Machiavelli 1513. Original title: De Principatibus (Of Principalities). I see this parody along the lines of A Very Potter Musical.

I Get to Love You: Bronleewee, Matthew; Eckford, Margaret 2016

It might seem like there is a bunch of unnecessary backstory (especially the Kurt/court stuff), but it pays off in the final entry.

[ciaossu-imagines]

Day freeeeetreeee. So how do Homra members react when being beaten in a card game, but then finding out y/n was sneaky snek and cheated really well?

This was an interesting one, so thank you so much for sending it in! I hope you’ll enjoy the headcanons!

Mikoto honestly doesn’t get too invested in card games. He’ll enjoy them well enough, but he’s just playing to pass the time and enjoy, and he doesn’t really care that they beat him. It doesn’t bother him; you win some, you lose some and he doesn’t even give it a passing thought. Finding out later that they won only by cheating isn’t really going to change that fact and he honestly won’t care that much.

Kusanagi does enjoy cards and he fancies himself to be a pretty great card player, someone who can read his opponents pretty well. So, someone would have to be a really great cheat to get their cheating past his sharp eyes, especially since he’s used to using some underhanded tricks himself, back in the day, to help him gain information or to gain the upper hand in a deal. It won’t really bother Izumo so much that he lost as it will bother him that he didn’t catch them cheating. He’ll honestly want to know what tricks they used to cheat, both for his own knowledge and so that he can be on the look-out for it if he plays cards with them, or anyone else.

Totsuka does play to win when he plays games, be they card, board, or video games but he’s an excellent sportsman and he’s not going to be at all upset over losing the game, even  if they had played fair and square. Finding out after the fact that they had cheated, Totsuka wouldn’t really get all that upset, but he would get curious as to what tricks they used to cheat and would probably ask them if they could teach him how to use those same tricks and any other ones that they knew. It’s not that Totsuka really wants to go and cheat; it just seems like a cool and interesting skill to acquire, and Totsuka is always on the lookout for cool new things to add to his ever-expanded interests and skills.

Anna honestly finds most card games boring, except for solitaire, which she does enjoy, and she doesn’t play them overly often. Honestly, their win just meant that the game was over quicker, and Anna liked that fact, even if she really doesn’t like to lose. When she found out later that they only won through cheating, she’d be kind of torn between not caring because, again, it just meant that the boring card game she’d played with them was over in a shorter amount of time and between being mildly peeved because she lost unfairly, and it should be counted as her win because of their underhanded methods. Either way, she definitely will remember their cheating ways and is unlikely to agree to play cards with them again.

Kamamoto honestly loves cards and he’s definitely one of those guys who has a weekly poker night with the boys. When they asked him to play cards, he was completely down for it, because he finds card games fun and he thinks he’s good at them. Honestly, he’s mostly in it for the fun and the companionship, but when they win, he is a little bummed out because who really enjoys losing and he’d even bet them that loser had to buy the other supper. So, finding out later that they won only by cheating? He’s kind of pissed off, but only because it means he lost out on that free meal, and he’ll make them promise to treat him for the next two nights before he forgives them.

While video games are usually more up Yata’s alley, he finds a good card game pretty enjoyable. With any game, Yata really does play hard and plays to win because the boy has a competitive streak a mile wide, and competition is part of why he enjoys games. He’s really getting annoyed as they keep winning and winning, no matter how many times he challenges them to another round and he’s honestly a pretty sore sport about it at the time. Finding out later that they won only by cheating makes him feel vindicated, in a way, because he knows he was playing better than they were and that he should have been winning, but at the same time, it definitely pisses him off and he’s definitely starting a fight over it.

Shouhei’s always up for a card game, mostly because it’s a great way to pass the time with friends. To him though, cards aren’t something you play so much as it’s just something you do while having a conversation and spending some friendly time with someone, so he’s not exactly playing to win or investing too much mentally into the outcome of the game. When he loses, it really, genuinely doesn’t matter to him at all, because he had fun and got to hang out with them and enjoy their company for a bit. He’d honestly laugh and take it in good humour when he finds out later that they were cheating.

Bandou likes to think he’s really great at cards and he’s bragging going into the game, telling them how he’ll try to take it easy on them. When they start winning, no matter how many rounds they play with him, he’s getting frustrated and annoyed and of course, he’s definitely accusing them of cheating. In his mind, they’re definitely cheating and that’s the only reason they’re winning so often, and he bailed on the game kind of really peeved at them because he’s not the best sport. When he finds out they were really cheating later on, it just reopens that wound and Bandou’s back to yelling and being pissy at them, swearing off ever playing cards with a cheat again.

The only card games Chitose’s willing to play with them involving stripping every time you lose a hand and some happy endings, so really, if they’re agreeing to his terms and playing with him, he’s not really caring if he won or lost because, in the end, he definitely won in his mind. Their cheating would only make him amused and make him tease them, telling them that if they wanted to see him naked that badly, all they ever need to do is ask.

Dewa has a few card games he really enjoys, like rummy and cribbage. Most other card games kind of bore him or he just doesn’t really get, so those would likely be the only two games he’d agree to play with them, and they’re really games that he is quite good at. He’d be a little suspicious of how easily they won, but he’s not going to accuse them of anything because honestly, sometimes the cards just don’t fall in your favour and that might have been his luck. He’s going to be a little wary though and still have that tingle of suspicion and he’s honestly a little relieved later on when his suspicions are proven right, just because it puts those suspicions to rest and leaves him feeling a little vindicated and a little bit vain in how good his instincts are. He honestly would look down on them a little for cheating, especially since there weren’t really any stakes in the game or reason for them to do so, and he definitely wouldn’t agree to play anything with them again.

Eric honestly doesn’t like card games. He doesn’t understand a lot of them, and it gets really frustrating for him, since he gets pissed off and snappy when he doesn’t understand things and ends up feeling stupid. It’s really unlikely for him to agree to play cards with them for that reason, so it’s really unlikely that they’d even get a chance to cheat.

Fujishima is another one who really doesn’t enjoy cards. While he would agree to play if he had a lot of time to kill, it’s probably a children’s game since he doesn’t know too many card games, like Go Fish, War, or Old Maid, games that are really hard to cheat at, so finding out after his loss to them that they cheated just kind of makes Fujishima more curious as to how they managed to cheat than anything else.

[hestia-and-the-court]

Vin absolutely cannot take Magneto in a fair fight, at least if we're talking mainstream comics Magneto from earth-616. Vin's reflexes are good, but Magneto has fought and intercepted Quicksilver multiple times and was once stated by the narration to be able to use his powers at the speed of thought. Vin's fast, but not that fast.

Furthermore, Magneto has dealt with other metal manipulators - his own daughter, Polaris, is a metal-manipulator too, and he's fought her before. He knows the risks of fighting someone else with his powers and has experience at raising magnetic barriers to block other metallokinetic abilities.

Also, Magneto can casually manipulate the iron in Vin's blood to give her a stroke or just form nails in a vital organ of his choice. Or, if he's feeling merciful, just ripping all the metals out of her body so she can't burn them anymore. Or, if he's feeling particularly unmerciful, destabilizing the electrons in her body (because those have magnetic fields too) and watching as her body basically explodes on an atomic level. Vin basically has to win in her first attack or she dies instantly to one of Magneto's many, many instant-kill moves.

It's also worth noting that Magneto has been fighting for, like, triple the amount of time Vin's been alive. He's got leagues more combat experience than she has and is more used to fighting a wider variety of enemies.

Finally, Magneto's range is way better. He can casually kill just about anyone while hovering safely two miles above the ground where virtually nobody on Scadrial could reach him.

So, in conclusion, if Vin has access to Harmony's powers the way she did at the end of the first trilogy, then she stands a good chance of beating Magneto (though I wouldn't count him out since he did once punch Iron Man with the force of a sun, so he could conceivably win a fight against Harmony's planet-level feats). But otherwise, Vin would have to kill him while he's sleeping or otherwise too distracted to stop her - and he's more than used to fighting multiple people at once and keeping an eye on every part of the battlefield, so distraction is a risky endeavor. -Maple

I know this isn't what the tournament is about but Vin 10/10s Magneto in a fight because she has much faster reflexes and Magneto's never fought anyone else who could manipulate metal. She'll just crush his head with his helmet before he can react.

Never read mistborn, so I can't comment, but I do know that dc and marvel characters scale to freaking insane levels. I know this due to me dabbling in the power scaling community a bit.

So I wouldn't count magneto out due to how insane comic book characters can be power wise.

Also I think magneto can manipulate other things besides metals but I don't remember.

[beann-e]

Can you please please please write atsumu with a reader that bakes when reader is stressed?

“ ok baking soda , sugar , vanilla extract— did I need vanilla extract— never mind that I “ your head somehow magically still screwed onto your moving body.

Mind running a thousand miles a minute as you tried hard to finally get this—

What was this ?

What were you making

Huh

Wait

Ok no back on track you were making a pie yes a pie that … somehow needed baking soda ok yeah this is no good “ fuck “ you yelled “ it’s everything— I just — I can’t keep— “

You shook your head trying to reel yourself back into the sense of focus that you’d had earlier which seemed to be going well enough that you were able to drown out the sound of the door lock clicking open.

Squeaky new sneakers that he’d just bought you and himself tracking in dirt and tshirt holding sweat from the gym not even 1 hour ago into the foyer. Exhaustion following behind him similar to a ghost as he ventured into the house further.

Finally slipping off his shoes and putting on his slippers he took the small step into the hallway listening to the nonstop mumbles that were leaving the kitchen before sighing softly.

He understood your anxiety about everything that’s been happening lately youd had no choice but to own up to it and shoulder it like you’ve done your whole life with everything else.

You worked hard and were never appreciated but, atsumu was here now this ‘ baking ‘ , if that’s what you could call it , wasn’t necessary. He took a deep breathe and tried to prepare himself , though extremely tired , to try to calm you down “ y/n baby I’m bac—oh my go—what the hell is going on in my kitchen “

His mouth fell open as his eyes widened footsteps falling silent as he turned the corner into the kitchen making eye contact with 4 eggs that’d been lying idle and cracked near the sink

2 more if you count the ones he saw peeking from their hiding spot behind the toaster a second ago before they escaped and rolled onto the floor in a horrible attempt to obviously getaway from this monstrosity you were making.

“ the damn eggs don’t even wanna contribute baby “ Sugar all over his floor and flour decorating his fridge handle “lord I swear ‘ya always do it ‘to me on my hardest days “ duffle bag dropping and closing his eyes and squeezing them

“ y/n “ he spoke softly taking a deep breathe with closed eyes he couldn’t — no he didn’t have the energy right now to look at the obvious bakery like state of his house right now

“ y/n “

No response body still moving around the kitchen with urgency “ y/fucking/ n “ he spoke your head finally snapping back as you let your mind turn gears finally figuring out that atsumu had finally came home from his 2 week volleyball stay.

“ oh my god “ you mumbled “ I was trying to beat you — I wanted to beat you and get done here—before you got here “ you nearly cried “ I’ve been — I was practing all day today trying to make you a dessert and I — “

Ignoring you his face lit up in confusion “ the fuck is this ? “ he spit “ huh ? — Halloweens not for another month baby — “ eyes wandering over his walls as he finally opened them “ and trust me one step inside this hell shop from anyone and you’ll win first place of fucking y/ntober “

Mouth moving up in a bit of a snarl trying to let his frustration go as you spoke “ I — wasn’t — look my mind is just “ you huffed” I just wanted to bake for you “

“ well you married the wrong fucking brother because “ he let out a breathy sigh “ I don’t own a fucking bakery y/n I only have a house to offer you not a fucking ruin it with 14 fucking desserts and then sit and eat fucking chocolate dipped strawberries while we sit in sticky egg yolk and kiss y/n “

“ I know I was just “

“ you were just stressed baby “ he spoke pleading with you using his eyes to look at you trying to convey what his body couldn’t “ you were just stressed “

“ I was maybe — yes but that’s because “

“ because nothing y/n — nothing should make you this crazy baby — nothing and whatever it is you should stop giving it attenti—- “

“ it’s you — ‘ tsumu you make me this crazy “ you shook your head “ you’ve been gone for a week and all I’ve been able to do is clean and clean and clean I haven’t been able to go to our favorite restaurants because you weren’t here to help make up my mind when I’m stuck between two choices “

You looked at the floor “ I haven’t even been able to sleep until I get a text from you at an ungodly hour because the time zones are so different —couldn’t even check that you’re ok —it took you over 4 hours to respond to me everyday “

His face falling at your words “ I understand that baby really I do but I just “ he sighed “ this baking baby — what ? What can we do about it because “ he motioned around the kitchen allowing you to finally take in what you’d done

“ you’re not good at it” he scoffed “ and our house can not take much more assault to it. This will be the third time this month I’ve called the fire department y/n… one of those days I was literally pregame before a match —- little pissing —-“ he spoke quietly and softly locked eyes with you “ in..London “

“ I— it’s how I cope ‘tsumu “

“ and I get that really I do— I kinda wish you could cope like me and set volleyballs but hey— everyone’s gotta different thing huh“

He smiled as he walked over to you slowly taking the spatula out of you hand and waving it in your face “ I mean you’re using a goddamn spatula to wisk cake mix come on y/n “

You looked away as he lifted your chin up to face him “ don’t feel shy to call me when you’re struggling “ he sighed “ I know I may not pick up and I hate that I wanna be there for you always anytime everyday but — I can’t “ he frowned

“ I just can’t my job doesn’t allow me baby “ your eyes closing as you felt his face getting closer with a whisper “ but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t drop any fucking thing for you baby— you need me that bad call my coach — you’re crying alone in the bed because you miss my warmth tape a picture of me to the pillow “

He kissed the tip of your nose “ if you can’t choose what to eat for dinner put a poll on your insta story if you need someone’s help that badly , wanna go out but got anxious to drive on the highway play some music and imagine I’m sitting right there guiding you through it “

Soft kisses being peppered across your hairline “ I understand you get stressed baby —and maybe I add to the cause because I’m not here — or because yer alone and work is hard—thinking is a lot more work then people think it is “

He smiled in a kiss against your forehead “ ‘nd I don’t blame yer—but— you gotta find a correct way to deal with stress —yoga baby I’ll do it with you — how about —actually “

His mind lighting up along with his face “ ‘m so fucking smart— If baking is what will help you with your stress let’s do it “

His smile growing even wider “ I’ll ask that stupid idiot ‘samu to give us lessons every Saturday baby ? Hmm how’s that sound that way you can properly learn— don’t wanna come home to an anxious mess again wanna actually eat something ok “

Him watching as your eyes lit up in happiness. Your mouth moving before your brain and pulling him into a kiss. The softness leaving as heat intruded in on the sweet moment his hands dropping down to your waist as he pressed his lips harder into yours.

Tongue coming out to swipe across your lips for access which you granted letting him pick you up by your thighs and drop you on the bed down the hall.

Letting him enjoy what he’d missed for the last two weeks ignoring the smoke that filled your home and alarms going off

Right now if you two burned in a fire created from your bakery experiment he’d be happy because your praise of him being the smartest man in the world for allowing you to actually learn how to bake properly made him ignore the fact that the fire department was probably on their way for the 3rd time this week

*I hope it was ok I haven’t reread it or edited it ! *

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

A Sister's Love

Pairing: Platonic Damian Wayne x Al Ghul!Reader

Warnings: Injuries and blood. Drugging, Trafficking and sexual assult but these are not the main themes.

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary: You realize you have a lot to learn about yourself outside of your little brother, Damian's, shadow.

A/N: Was originally gonna make this a Dick Grayson x Reader but realized it would be weird cuz of mixed families and stuff. And I don't wanna be pushing the boundaries of incest.

Growing up in the League of Assassins meant a lot of things for you. It meant that you were raised to be powerful and commanding. It meant you knew how to kill a man in 47 different ways and counting. It meant that you were raised to rightfully think that you were the best.

Although for every good thing there was always cons. Your schedule was rigid and your peers were unfeeling. Your mother most of all, but that didn't stop you from trying to win her affection. It was the reason why when your little brother was born you felt threatened.

That was until you met little Damian. Your mother had handed him to you with a smile of pride that she never showed you and you hated him. But then you saw his precious little face, a nose tinier than a button and adorable lips that were curled into a pout. He was so beautiful.

Since then, you put any differences you might have had with your mother behind you. According to Ra’s it would have been a mistake to show Damian such tenderness, to teach him about loyalty to your heart, instead of without it.

But Talia couldn't ignore the tug she felt in her heart seeing you and Damian together. You still worked hard, harder than she had ever seen before, now determined not to show that you were weak and have them take your brother from you. Damian followed your example, training to her approval, however taxing it was for him.

And more importantly, Damian loved you. You were the first woman he had ever loved and he was smart enough to know that would never be a mistake. You were his shelter in a storm, his fire in the cold. You were the best sibling that anyone could ever even dream of.

But then you had to part. At age 10, Damian went to live with his father, Bruce Wayne. You had never met the man when he was with your mother and you assumed you wouldn't need to, he wasn't your father.

Both you and Damian didn't want to leave each other. You'd miss your little brother and you'd miss the feeling in your chest whenever you'd look at him. Damian would miss home; he would miss your presence and he would miss the familiarity. But he couldn't stay.

That's something you learnt at the League. Damian couldn't stay, with you. He was meant for bigger things than you.

Another thing you learnt was that you didn't have to stay either. You wanted to see the world, see what everything else had in store for you. And your mother, bless her, gave you her blessing.

Of all the things the league taught you, there were things they missed out on. And a part of you was thankful for that. Because you enjoyed the feeling of wide-eyed wonderment when you stepped into a train station for the first time ever.

You had never tasted a chocolate muffin before, you realized as you stuffed your face at a local bakery. Coffee and chocolate muffins went well together. You liked sweet things better than spicy things, you noted when you didn't enjoy the tteokbokki you bought at a Korean food stall.

People were kind, not foolish. They smiled at you when you came in and genuinely asked you where you were headed. Like the woman you met on the tram who was heading to Washington DC. Even through the short ride, the two of you had bonded and she had left you with her phone number and a promise that if you were ever in DC, you would ring her up. Diana was trusting, too trusting. You could have assumed it was because she was stupid, but you wanted to believe it was because she was smarter than even you.

Some people were kind like her but of course, some were impolite and pig-headed. You of course didn't waste any time putting them in their place. Maybe that was why you shouldn't have any faith in humanity.

But isn't humanity just the thing you should be putting faith in?

It was fun at first, discovering new things, seeing how people really lived outside of books and things taught to you back at the League. You knew everything, you weren't naive enough to be oblivious but reading about something was miles apart from actually experiencing it.

After a while however, you got lonely, it was a huge world with people constantly moving and you've come to realize that unless you're with somebody, you can't really move from your place. Instead, you'd be stuck watching all of them. So, you sought after your brother.

It was easy enough to track Bruce Wayne, he lived in a house large enough to be seen from outer space. Getting to Gotham took longer than you expected. Time passed so easily when you didn't have a purpose but now that you had somewhere you needed to be, the train couldn't go any slower.

Gotham City was less gloomy than people made it out to be. The sun was shining and the city was bustling. In some ways, it seemed a little homey. Maybe that was because you didn't have to worry about someone hurting you. If anything, they should pray that they don't choose you as their next victim.

Of course, you could've gone to Wayne Manor and introduced yourself civilly but you wanted to see Damian more than anything and didn't want to delay it any longer. And more than that, you wanted to see Damian is his cute little school uniform.

That's what led you to wait outside of the well-reputed Gotham University, waiting patiently for the bell to ring and students to file out of it. You already knew that they wouldn't come out singing like in the movies but a very small fraction of you still hoped.

Your heartrate increased with every passing minute, excited to meet your brother after nearly a year of being apart. Eventually, the bell did ring and students began trickling out of the doors, looking like bumble bees, excitedly zipping around and talking to their friends.

'Would this have been my life if I was never born in the League?' You wondered, looking at a girl who was animatedly chatting with her friend, arms interlocked as they moved towards the parking lot where their parents were waiting.

When you finally saw Damian, you suddenly felt out of place. Like an outsider watching someone else's brother when you saw his eyes lock onto someone in the commons. Even though you weren't on the school campus, you could still recognize who it was.

Richard Grayson, oldest son of Bruce Wayne, waiting to pick up your little brother on a motor cycle.

And for the first time in your life, you experienced insecurity, watching them greet each other like brothers. The feeling was sour and you wondered if it was a mistake coming here, thinking that you still had a place here.

It was true, people didn't move from their place unless they had someone to go with. You hadn't felt fulfilled like that since your brother stopped being at your side. He was everything you knew. It was just your mistake for thinking that in the year apart your brother wouldn't have found anyone either.

***

"Drake, pull up the security cameras from today at my school parking lot." Damian ordered, stepping into the Batcave.

"No 'Hello', no 'How you doing?', it's always 'Tim, do this' 'Drake, do that'," Tim commented sarcastically but still pulled up whatever he needed, "And then as soon as I give you what I want, you're going to forget me again. And not even visit the kids."

Dick spared him a laugh at his dramatic scene, ruffling his hair as greeting and then turned his attention to the screen. The footage was played at double the speed until Damian's eyes locked onto just what he wanted to find.

It was just for a second, when Dick's motorcycle had zoomed past but that was all he needed. Damian had seen your face and it wasn't any mistake, he'd know you even if he was blind. Even though he was so sure it had been you, he still couldn't hide the way his body froze, eyes wide when he saw your face.

It was the same face he'd see every night before he went to bed and the very first person he wanted to see every time he woke up. Your image was what came into his mind when he thought of being nurtured, when he thought of being safe.

There was a time when he was younger, too young, there was a thunder storm. He doesn't remember much from the night, just hiding his face against your chest and you wrapping a blanket around him. His mother trained him even harder the next day, until he almost dropped but he'd never forget curling up to your warmth. Not even now, when he knew that thunder storms were the least of his fears.

It was as simple as that. With his father and brothers, he didn't have to worry about looking weak, he didn't think of love as a weakness, rather he considered it as the fuel behind strength. Yes, his father taught him well. And now he would show you just how much he's grown. So, you can be proud of him.

"We need to find her."

"Why? Who is she?"

"My sister."

***

Of all the things you wanted to experience, visiting a bar was one of them. Was the air really enough to intoxicate you? Were you really going to lose all sense when you stepped into it? Would be able to drink your troubles away?

You were sorely disappointed. The alcohol didn't taste good, it burned when you swallowed it and made your tongue feel fuzzy. The music was so loud that your brain began throbbing against your skull to the beat of the song.

Men were picking fights and women were having fun but even then, you couldn't find it in yourself to get up and actually have fun. I mean, how were you supposed to? How was cosying up against a drunk man supposed to make you feel better? How was getting lost in throngs of sweaty people who didn't know what personal space was meant to improve your mood?

If anything, it just reminded you of just how pathetic your life was.

You were realizing you had no purpose. Damian was all you had known for years now, knowing only to protect him with your life and love him with your heart. Who were you without him? What did you like? What made you happy outside from your duty at the league?

A man knocking into you brought you out of your thoughts, which had been happening all night. Except this man stopped in front of you and gave you a smile that turned your stomach upside down.

"Sorry about that pretty lady, let me buy you a drink to make up for it." He spoke with a voice that was trying to be smooth but instead sounded like metal scraping over each other.

"No, thank you." You said sharply, not yet done with your Manhattan anyway. You were barely enjoying your time here as it was and you were sure another drink wouldn't change your mind.

"Not a fan?"

You shook your head at him, choosing to humour the man.

"Then let me buy you another one, if you don't like it then you have nothing to lose."

You pretended to giggle at him and he swelled with pride. Did he think he was winning?

"One Boulevardier." He told the bartender who nodded and began preparing the drink. Until it was ready, you indulged the man in front of you who reeked of cigarettes and alcohol.

He placed the drink in front of you and if you hadn't known that it would burn going down and turn you into a shell of yourself, you might have been curious to what it tasted like.

"You see that dude over there?" He nodded to a man standing in the other corner of the bar and you turned to look at him. Another man, covered in tattoos who didn't look any different than the one standing behind you.

"He's my pal, owns the bar. Ask him and he'll hook you up with free drinks tonight. For a price, of course."

You turned back around to face the man and out of the corner of your eye saw something dissolve into your drink. It was only for a second but you saw the last remaining grains turn invisible and you definitely noticed the way the once steady drink was now swirling into a vortex in the middle.

"Drink up, princess."

You smirked. Tonight, might be fun after all.

***

This was boring.

You had been pretending to be unconscious for about 40 minutes while these men drove you to some undisclosed location. Their conversations were unbelievably dry and it's not like you had anyone else to talk to. Everyone else who might have been even mildly interesting were knocked unconscious.

Eventually they pulled up to some sort of holding facility and if your assumptions were correct then this would be a midpoint before they sold all the girls here to some sort of pimp.

Once they lugged you off the truck and threw you into a room with so many other people, you could hear their breathing did you open your eyes. It seemed like this was some sort of abandoned butcher or meat factory, judging by the ominous hooks hanging above your head and the metal walls. The door had been bolted shut, the only way to look through it was a small glass window.

Only after you finished taking in your surroundings did you even look at the other women who had been trapped in the room along with you. Your stomach turned.

There were so many unsuspecting faces who looked like they didn't sign up for this. Half of them looked under the influence of something, sweating profusely even in their sleep, faces scrunched up in pain. The other looked like they were forcibly taken, bruises covering their skin, hair and clothes in disarray and more than half of them had either a black eye or a swollen lip.

Maybe it was their fault for not being trained, that's what someone at the league would've said. But isn't it their captors’ fault for misusing their training, their strength, for something as vile as this?

You decided to wait, you couldn't assume that this small group of girls was the only one in the confines of the building. How many more were here?

You weren't feeling overwhelmed, not at all, not with the weapons that were littering you. A kunai hidden is either of your boots, throwing stars in your pockets hidden underneath your vest and a war fan in your pocket. You could handle these clowns without even looking up.

But it wasn't your life you were concerned about. It was the lives of these underaged, vulnerable girls who had fallen prey to these monsters.

While you were waiting a couple of the girls started to wake up. Some were still heavily drugged, still groggy when their eyes fluttered open and unable to focus onto anything. Others shot up straight as an arrow and began crying, screaming, begging for them to let them out.

They were ignored, by both their captors and you. Why try and reassure then when you weren't sure what was going to happen. More importantly, why throw off the monsters lurking outside the door that there was one woman who hadn't been phased.

Instead, you just stared blankly, trying to get comfortable and hear anything through the walls. Eventually, you heard the sound of footsteps coming towards the room. You covered the lower half of your face with a scarf, making sure that anyone who left here alive today, wouldn't be able to remember your face. Whether it be as a saviour or their punisher.

The girls whimpered and curled into one another, crying quietly and you felt sympathy. There was no way they'd be able to move forward from this without having fear stab at their heart with every step they took. You could only hope they had something in their life that would make them feel safe.

For tonight, you'd be that for them.

A few men opened the door with a cruel smile, stepping inside for a second before bolting it shut. They flaunted guns and other weapons to the girls, finding pleasure where there should be compassion and worry. You were disgusted watching their smirks twist maniacally when the girls cried harder seeing them brandish their weapons.

One of the men stepped forward and grabbed the girl closest to him who begged and cried to spare her. His disgusting hand might as well be made of acid because you almost felt the sick burn when it snaked between her legs and copped a feel while she sobbed and screamed, trying to fight him off.

You grabbed one of your weapons and returned their sick grins with one of your own.

It was going to be hard to cop a feel when he can't feel anything.

You were going to break each and every bone in his hand to ensure that.

***

"Can I borrow your phone please?" You asked the bloody and broken man by your feet. He glared at you and spat blood on your boots, unable to do anything else. You sighed and faked a pout.

"Is it here?" You wondered, holding the dirtied boot over his ribs and his eyes widened, catching drift of what you were about to do. You rammed your foot into his broken ribs, courtesy of yourself, and he screamed bloody murder. Music to your ears.

"Apparently not. Want me to check your pants?" You asked, raising a brow and he frantically shook his head, using whatever strength left to pull out his phone from his pocket and you smiled, thanking him quietly.

"Now, let's hope that one blow is enough to put you out of my misery." You sang, punching him right in the face and he passed out. Lightweight.

You took a look around the place, seeing bodies littered over the place like confetti. Blood was scattered on the ground and you're sure if people looked hard enough, they'd find someone's teeth. You on the other hand looked fine.

You sat on the floor, crossing your legs comfortably, tired after the fight and dialled a number onto the phone.

"Hello, police?"

"Yes, how can we help you?"

"Well, there's a sex trafficking scam going on at my location. Quite shoddy but they have a number of women trapped here and it would be nice if you could send backup to have them escorted home safely."

"A sex trafficking scam?"

"Well, it could be just a regular trafficking scam but I'm not too sure."

"All right, I'll have someone check it out."

"Good, and I realize you might get a lot of calls like this but please don't talk to me like I'm an idiot. Tell your people to send a couple of ambulances as well, you'll need them."

"Of course."

You could only hope the person on the other end of the line would eat their words when it was on the front of the newspaper. For now, your work was done.

In the meantime, how were you going to get anywhere from here? Where even were you? Was there anyone even conscious here who could give you directions? Or would you have to call the police again to find out where to go?

Not that you'd wait long enough for them actually arrive here. You'd return to the bar way before that for another drink. Maybe now you'd actually be able to enjoy one.

Just as you were about to leave, you heard a creak coming from the other end of the warehouse. It echoed through the halls and you leapt to your feet, soundless moving to hide in the shadows and pulling out a kunai.

The footsteps that followed it were light and airy, barely even touching the ground. They were trained, whoever they were. You kept your ears open in order to hear something.

"Whoever was here was trained." You heard someone comment.

"Are you really that stupid, Nightwing? It's obvious that my sister was the one who took out this ring and reported it." Came the snappy reply back and your breath caught in your chest. Make no mistake, that was your brother's voice.

"We must find her."

He was actually looking for you? He knows you're here? You're not entirely surprised, you haven't exactly been careful or stealthy when it came to concealing your face around Gotham. A mistake on your part but you couldn't have been more relieved.

You still remained quiet, not wanting to disturb the flow, not wanting to interrupt. You had the mind of a soldier but when there was no one to follow you seemed more like a sheep. It made you feel slight shame, that you were unable to stick up for yourself despite being so many things.

Maybe, the league wasn't the best thing for you.

Immediately you scraped the thought from your mind, berating yourself for even thinking that. The league had given you everything, everything you were today was because of them. You were strong and calculating, the leagues proud soldier.

You were proud of your roots, thankful that you grew up to be the person you were. They had given you everything, and your brother was just one of the gifts that you had been blessed with in your life.

"Damian." You spoke softly, stepping out of the shadows. His head snapped towards you, eyes widening when he took in your form. It really was you. His sister.

Damian wasted no time in bounding towards you and you knelt down to meet his eye level, catching him with open arms. A part of your heart sang when you realized he was still small enough to fit in your arms. He still held you close. He still loved you.

"I've missed you, Ya Amar." You spoke softly, cradling his head that was buried in the junction of your neck.

"I as well, Okhti."

***

Damian was ecstatic that you were in Gotham. Of course, it didn't look like it to anyone but everyone who knew him well could tell that he was happy that his sister was home with him. He didn't wait for even two seconds when you got to the Batcave (much to Bruce's surprise) to show you all his pets.

The next few days would be considered the best of his life.

Damian wanted to be as close to you as possible, sitting near you during meals, training with you, talking with you, even going as far to sneak into your temporary bedroom at night for cuddles. He certainly got more comfortable showing affection since the last time you were around.

He showed you his hobbies like painting and sketching and you were impressed. He had the skills to be doing something like this? Damian had picked up many new talents and many new stories since you last saw him and he was eager to share them all with you.

The next few days would be considered the worst of your life.

You had found Damian now, so why didn't you still feel fulfilled? Why did you feel like something was missing? Like this wasn't meant for you? Why weren't you satisfied?

Why did you feel envious that Damian got to experience so many things? Why did you feel resentment against him when you realized you never got the same things he has?

Your life felt like it amounted to nothing.

You loved your brother but so far you had just been living for him. And now that you realized there were parts of the world that you wanted to see. There were thoughts in your mind that were of your own and desires that you didn't have to explain to anyone. As long as it made sense to yourself.

And you realize one thing with an aching heart.

You couldn't stay here in Gotham.

"Does Damian know?" Bruce asked you one day when you had asked him a favour. Bruce so far had been a little cold and unfeeling ever since you had met him in the Batcave uninvited. His feelings towards you got more negative when you gave an offhanded comment about how you thought he was taller. But he was the only one you could ask for a favour. He was the father to your beloved brother and you could only hope he would offer you the same consideration.

You had asked him for a flight to Washington, to see if Diana really meant what she said. To take a leap of faith for the first time in your life.

You shook your head no, "Not yet. I'm hoping he will take the news well. It's not like I'm leaving forever. I just—I need to—" You trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Bruce nodded, "I understand. Just tell him before you go. I don't think I've ever seen him this happy before."

"It makes me feel worse." You admitted, feeling a little guilty. How could you not feel happy at your brother’s happiness?

"You need some time to figure out that your world is yours. No one else should determine how you feel about yourself."

"You are very wise," You said softly, "Thank you."

***

"I love you dearly, Damian." You tried to coerce him from his room where he had locked himself in only 5 minutes ago. No doubt he was sulking since he found out that you would be leaving for DC in two days’ time.

"If you did, you wouldn't be leaving!" His voice was muffled, as if his face was buried in his pillow or even Titus. You had been trying to coax him into open the door for 20 minutes now and had multiple offers from Grayson, which you turned down.

"Oh, for the love of—Damian Wayne, you open this door right now!" It was silent for a moment before you heard the lock click open and took that as the indication from him to step into his room.

It was large and from the moment you stepped in, it was easy to tell the space was his. There were swords mounted on the wall, paintings on the wall adjacent to it. His desk was tidy and in the corner of his room, there were multiple easels and sketch pads.

Damian was sulking on his bed and you sighed, feeling guilty. You sat beside him and ran your fingers through his hair. Even though he was upset with you, he still sank into your touch, feeling comforted by mere contact.

"It's not forever, Damian. Wherever I'm going, I'm going to come back. I just need some time to myself." You tried to explain.

"But why!"

"The league taught me well, Damian. But it taught me to live like a soldier, but not as a person. There are so many things that I don't know about myself. What do I like? What do I want to do with my life? And I need to figure it out for myself."

"Why can't you do that here?"

You gave him a pained look and realization dawned on him, "Because of me."

"Damian, in the time we spent apart you learnt so many things about yourself. That you like animals, that you like art. There are so many blanks in my life and I need the distance to figure it out. I need to understand myself." You explained wistfully.

It was true, there were so many blanks in your life. You didn't even know what food you liked better, what hobbies you enjoyed. You wanted to experience new things, without the influence of Damian, without relying on him. And more importantly, you were scared you would put Damian above yourself time and time again.

It was all you knew. Damian was worth more than your life, worth more than your heart. But if that was true, you wanted to know at least what your heart was worth to you. If you didn't hold any value to yourself, it would be foolish to think you would to anyone else.

You needed the distance. You needed something new. You wanted to dive into uncharted waters and figure out the magic for yourself, without anyone to help you.

"It's not forever," You reminded gently, "I'm going to come back, I can promise you that."

Damian began leaning until his head was settled in your lap and you chuckled, gently scratching his scalp and he nestled into your belly. Hard to believe this was the same boy who left only a year ago. You wondered if you would change as much as he did or if you were stuck in your ways now.

"Okay," He said, voice muffled and you smiled, "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you for your blessing, Ya Amar. It means the world to me. I love you; you know that."

"I do." He said, now wrapping his arms around your waist, "I love you too."

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

Never Back Down

Warnings: the usual - tickling, fluff

Word count: 2500

Ok, I know I just posted like 2 days ago, but this idea started plaguing me on my drive home from work today and I had to just get it written out on (virtual) paper. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

You don’t back down easily. Certainly not from a prank war. Especially when it meant you had captured the attention of a certain Asgardian.

Admittedly, you had been the one to start it. Although, you had good reason – Loki had been teasing you incessantly that day, doing everything in his power just to push your buttons. So, naturally, you did what any self-respecting Avenger would do, and stole his ‘secret’ stash of chocolate from his room when he wasn’t looking. It’s not like you ate it or anything (well, maybe just one… or two…) but it was still enough to poke the bear. Loki, of course, knew exactly who had taken it the moment he noticed it was missing.

The chocolate had disappeared from your room by the next morning. Along with every pair of shoes you owned.

It took much longer than you’d have liked to admit to track down all of your shoes hidden around the compound. You knew you had to step up your game. So that evening, you pulled the classic ‘hair dye in the shampoo bottle’ trick (temporary, of course). The look you received from the now green-haired god the next morning could have shattered glass, but you still couldn’t help but snicker at him.

You made sure you were cautious the rest of that day, knowing he would likely retaliate. Before showering that evening, you double and triple-checked the color of the soap and shampoo before using it to make sure there wasn’t anything unusual about it. You even ordered take-out for dinner; afraid he might try to tamper with your food if you tried to cook something.

Nothing happened. Which only made you more suspicious about what the trickster was planning.

You found out the next morning, when you went to exit your bedroom and suddenly were knocked backward onto the floor as your face struck an invisible barrier. Plastic wrap. Clever. As revenge, you slipped hot sauce into his morning coffee. Needless to say, he didn’t appreciate it.

At this point, you weren’t sure who was winning. The most likely answer was really neither of you, but you figured you should probably be on your toes anyway assuming he would probably be plotting vengeance after this morning. Luckily, there was a mission briefing that afternoon; you figured at least he wouldn’t be bold enough to try to pull something in front of an entire room of Avengers. Or, at least, you hoped.

Tony was having renovations done on your usual conference room, so the briefing had been moved to one of the smaller meeting rooms on the second floor. You were running late, having gotten lost trying to find your way to the new meeting location, and you were cursing yourself for it because you were really hoping to be assigned to this particular mission. By the time you located the room, everyone else had already arrived and taken their seats.

The room was much smaller than the conference room, with a few chairs surrounding a table in the center of the room and additional seating against the walls. You cringed when you saw the only remaining available seat was in the corner, directly next to Loki. He smirked when he noticed you in the doorway, patting the chair beside him as if being polite, but you knew him better by now. He had something planned, you were sure of it.

You quickly walked across the room, trying to minimize the time that you were blocking your teammates’ view of the front of the room where Steve was reviewing the mission location on a projector. Begrudgingly, you slouched down into the seat beside Loki and leaned against the wall.

“You’re late,” Loki leaned over and whispered in your ear.

“Shh! I want to hear about the mission. Steve was thinking of sending me this time,” you hissed, glaring at him.

Loki was silent for a few moments, so you turned your attention back to the front of the room. Steve now had some images up on the screen of the artifact the team would be responsible for retrieving, which had been stolen from one of the local museums. You wished you had thought to bring your notepad – you knew it would impress Steve if you were taking notes, and you really wanted to have the chance to prove yourself by going on this mission.

“He is insufferable to listen to.” Loki had leaned over again to whisper to you, his breath tickling your ear, and you reflexively shrugged your shoulder.

“Shh! Stop whispering!” you demanded.

“Shh! You should be listening,” he mocked, winking with a mischievous grin. You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the front.

Another few moments went by when suddenly you felt something soft tickling the shell of your ear. You flinched and swatted your hand up to your ear, realizing Loki had taken a loose strand of your hair and had experimentally swiped it across your ear.

“Loki!” you whispered, your face heating up. “Cut it out!”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, an expression of mock innocence on his face.

“You know what’s wrong. I’m trying to listen!”

“What is it? Are you… ticklish?” He emphasized his question by poking you swiftly in the side, causing you to jerk away from his touch.

“Loki… d-don’t get any ideas,” you warned, starting to get nervous. He scooted slightly closer to you in his chair.

“Hmm. Surely you must regret tampering with my coffee this morning, now, don’t you?” You narrowed your eyes at him, fixing your gaze on his. He snuck his hand up to your side out of your line of site and gently squeezed, making you jump. “Now, darling, you wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“Y-you’re the one causing a scene!” you protested, glancing up to see if anyone had noticed this exchange yet. It seemed no one was the wiser to what was going on in your corner of the room, all watching Steve as he continued to provide intel for the upcoming mission.

While you were looking around the room, Loki slid his arm around your waist to attack your other side. You jolted again as you felt his fingertips gently scratching at both sides simultaneously, biting your tongue to keep from laughing. You refused to gratify Loki with a reaction, so you did your best to remain perfectly still as he continued to lightly trace your skin through your thin t-shirt. You could still see his smirk in your peripheral vision despite your attempt to focus on Steve’s briefing.

Gradually, Loki’s light touch became more of a gentle kneading of the soft skin of your sides. It was becoming more difficult not to move, and a reluctant smile started forcing itself across your face. You had to fight even harder as you felt his fingertips moving up your sides, moving agonizingly slowly, gently digging into the spaces between your lower ribs.

“Very good, pet,” Loki teased, his voice deep and smooth as he leaned close to your ear. You shuddered involuntarily, your face burning, flustering you in a way that only the god of mischief could. Unfortunately, Loki was perceptive, and noticed your sudden change in demeanor. His fingers crawled higher up your ribcage and it took everything you had not to let out a squeak. “It would seem that I’m not trying hard enough, wouldn’t it?”

“S-stop it!” you mumbled, leaning as far away from the god as you could with the wall on your other side holding you captive in your seat. He chuckled, low and deep in his throat, suddenly shifting the hand that wasn’t wrapped around you so he could flutter his fingertips against the back of your knee while continuing to torment your ribs with his other hand. You let out a nearly inaudible squeal, biting down on your knuckle in an effort to avoid laughing out loud. You were trembling now, trying desperately not to jerk away from his touch and draw attention to yourself.

“It’s unfortunate for you, really, that you’re so devastatingly ticklish. Tell me, darling – where are you more ticklish? Here?” He scribbled his fingers faster against the delicate skin on the underside of your knee, making you jolt your leg away from him, “Or here?” The slender fingers latched on your ribs squeezed more rapidly, and you arched your back slightly to evade his touch.

“I’m n-not telling you that!” you hissed.

“Alright, then.” The hand under your knee darted back up to your side, and in one swift motion he slipped his fingertips into the hollows under your arms. You couldn’t help but twist harshly, shaking in silent laughter as you leaned into him involuntarily. “I see I’ve found the answer.”

“I’ll be right back!” you announced suddenly, standing abruptly from your chair, and scurrying out of the room. You shut the door behind you and leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath and regain your composure. Your cheeks were still on fire and your heart was beating a mile a minute in your chest. If it weren’t for the fact that you actually wanted to pay attention during this meeting, this whole interaction with Loki might have been more enjoyable. His persistent teasing had you completely flustered, though, and while under normal circumstances it may have made you feel giddy, you knew you couldn’t let the team see you like this.

You needn’t have worried, though – the door to the meeting room opened again only moments after you’d left the room, and everyone filed out into the hall, chattering amongst themselves, none the wiser to anything that had been going on in the back corner of the room. Loki was the last to leave, trailing behind the others with a few extra feet of distance between himself and the rest of the team. You took advantage of this, quickly grabbing his arm and yanking him off to the side, slamming him up against the wall with your forearm pressed across his chest.

“Damn it, Loki! What the hell!” you growled, glaring at him, although admittedly with less fire in your eyes than he probably deserved.

“Do you admit defeat?” he asked, grinning.

“Wha- no! Of course not!” you retorted. “You fight dirty, Loki!”

“God of mischief, darling,” he responded proudly, snaking his hand under your arm, and digging his fingers into your uppermost ribs. You shrieked and released him from the wall, stumbling backward to escape the torturous tickles. He was too quick for you, grasping your wrist and spinning you around so he could pin you against the wall where he previously stood. After grappling with you for a moment, he managed to grab your other wrist and pin both arms behind your back in one hand, spidering the fingers of his other hand randomly up and down your side. You snorted, now able to laugh and squirm freely. You managed to twist enough to break his hold, spinning around and sweeping his legs out from underneath him with your foot. He fell to the floor, a shocked expression fleeting across his face as you knelt down beside him.

“You know, I’m willing to bet you’re only good at this from personal experience,” you noted with a smirk. Before he could react, you latched both hands on his sides and squeezed, praying for a reaction. He let out a strangled laugh, jerking away from your touch.

“Don’t!” he demanded, sounding somewhat frantic.

“Aha! I knew it!” you gloated, scribbling your fingers into every possible ticklish spot you could think of, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he overpowered you and escaped your hold. He started to giggle – actually giggle – thrashing violently to throw you off. His laughter made you even more flustered than you were before, never having seen the god in such a state.

“Eheheh – I DEMAND you stop this!”

“Sorry Loki, it’s pretty hard to take you seriously when you’re giggling like a schoolchild,” you teased, working your fingers down to his belly. Unfortunately, this caused him to jolt so hard he knocked you off of him, not having expected the sudden motion. In a flash, he had you pinned to the floor, hovering over you with his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

“I-I am going to make you regret that,” he growled, his characteristic smirk returning as he resumed his tickle attack, his fingers darting across your skin, sending ticklish shocks through your nerves. He was agile, never staying in one spot for long enough for you to get used to the sensation before moving his torturous fingers somewhere else.

“L-LOKI! I CAHAHAN’T TAKE IHIHIHIT!!” you pleaded, pounding your feet against the floor in ticklish agony.

“You should have thought of this before crossing the god of mischief,” he retorted, pinning your legs down with his shin and pinching the skin just above your kneecap. Your abdominal muscles were too sore from laughter to even try to sit up and shove him off you. He slid his other hand under your knee to scratch at the sensitive skin there simultaneously.

“I YIELD! I YIELD! STAHAHAP!!” you begged, slapping the floor with your hand to tap out. Thankfully, he obeyed, releasing you so you could roll onto your side, holding your stomach as the last residual giggles bubbled from your lips.

After taking a moment to compose yourself, you sat up and grinned at the trickster. He raised his eyebrows at you.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I just never pegged you as the ticklish type,” you observed. He folded his arms indignantly across his chest.

“I am not ticklish. That is a weakness that only plagues mortals such as yourself,” he insisted. A sneaky poke to his side told you otherwise, causing the Asgardian to jolt and let out a strangled yelp.

“Mmhmm. Ticklish.”

Loki stared you down for a moment, and you started to worry that he might attack you again for that comment. You were surprised when he held out his hand, offering to help you off the floor.

“Truce?”

“Truce? … What are the conditions?” you asked warily, staring at his outstretched hand as if it might try to bite you.

“You keep this little… incident to yourself, and I will stop pranking you. Provided you do the same.” You squinted at him, trying to assess the sincerity in his expression. Satisfied, you grasped his hand in yours and allowed him to pull you to your feet.

“Deal.” You shook his hand once to seal the deal. You both turned to walk down the hallway to catch up with the rest of the team.

“I shall warn you, though – I made no promises that you would be safe from tickles around me. It’s quite amusing, tormenting you. Almost… adorable.” You felt your face flush hot again.

“Well… I guess I won’t protest too much to that.”

[roger-that-cap]

doubt comes in

orpheus!bucky barnes x fem!eurydice!reader

summary: a retelling of orpheus and eurydice for an extremely late entry for a mythology challenge!!

warnings: uh- yeah i was not playing with this myth lol… fluffy beginning, uh, that’s all imma say about that and ALSO i haven’t edited this so haha, i am running on fumes but had to post this jeez 

word count: 11.3k good god

There were gods that were unexplainably strong. There were some that could bend fire and metal to their will, some that could string up love and cast it upon others, and others that knew more of war and how to win more than they even knew themselves. Others were the faces of glory, like Zeus and Hera and the sun god Apollo and so many others. There were many that were worshipped by humans every day of every week, and others that were forgotten until they were desperately needed. There were some that lived immortal lives and demanded respect from humans and gods alike, and then there were the ones invested in their art, in themselves, in the beauty of life itself.

That was Bucky. He was so immersed in song, in the gift that he had inherited from his mother, Calliope, that it was all he could think about. It was what made him different, it was what made him stand out from the boys that he grew up with that were just plain old strong. He had a talent, he had a mother that was a myth and a legend alike, and he had a lyre. He had a lyre, a lute, his voice, and a bit of speed, and that was all that he would ever need in life. That, and a pretty landscape to look at while he strummed his golden strings. But that was all he ever thought he would need- which was why he was knocked right off of his planted feet when he saw you walk by.

You were a human. You were a beautiful girl, probably the most beautiful being he had ever seen in his entire life. He had met goddesses and nymphs and princesses alike, but never had he met someone who had such a sweet face, such a gentle aura, and even more, a beautiful voice. You had only said a few words to someone else that were delivered with a gentle smile, but he could have sworn that your words were a melody. Before he knew it, your entire being was stamped into his mind, and he knew that he would never be able to forget you.

It was by complete chance that the next day, he decided to wallow in his sadness by a fountain in public, strumming his lyre too quietly for anyone else to hear. Anyone who knew him knew that he was devastatingly off. And coincidentally, the only ones who truly did know Bucky were Steve and Sam, two forest nymphs that had been his best friends since he taught them the ways of the lute years and years ago. They were sitting by him in silence on the marbled fountain, waiting next to him for the second shoe that they doubted would ever drop. But then, like Bucky was a sunflower following the sun itself, his back straightened, his head perked up, and his mouth dropped, his eyes wide and swirling with admiration as he watched you- the same human woman he was enamoured with- walk through the square again, a woven basket full of fresh fruits on your arm and your lilac dress swishing in the wind.

“No way,” he heard Sam mutter, and Steve poked his side.

“You were always such a doubter,” Steve mumbled, but the smile on his face was audible through his tone. “There she is, in the flesh.”

Bucky could hardly hear anything but the soft melody stirring up in his mind, louder than his racing heart, and just as tender as the feelings swirling inside of him. He saw you wave to the older woman you were talking to and then start to walk away, and he knew that he couldn’t let you go, not when the Fates so obviously gave him a second chance. Without a second thought, he slid off of the fountain, leaving his friends and his lyre, striding towards you with the brightest smile, trying to cover the fact that he was nervous.

His clumsy feet were carrying him a little too quickly, and he could hear the snickers of Steve and Sam from behind him. He craned his head backwards to look at them and laugh too, but he tripped over his own left foot, barreling right into you and knocking you flat onto the ground. His half immortal heart beat heavy and hard in his chest as he watched you wince under him. He scrambled up, cheeks flushed and hand shaking as he watched you sit up and brush the dirt off of your dress. He was looking down at you with a look that he prayed wasn’t as desperate as he felt. But he had to know you.

“I’m Orpheus,” he started, and when you turned your bright eyes to him with your brows furrowed, he shook his head like he was trying to get water from his hair. “No, I meant that I was sorry- I’m so sorry. For knocking you over, miss.” He extended his hand to you again, and he swore that he saw your lips quirk up a bit at him. You took his hand and stood up, brushing the fabric of your dress once again. He caught a trail of your scent, and he was immediately overtaken by the scent of fresh flowers and lavender.

That was when he really got a good look at you for the first time. The first time he saw you had been brief. You weren’t even looking anywhere near his way, and he only caught a look at your stunning side profile before you walked away. His vision had been practically blurred from excitement while he walked up to you, and he was so embarrassed about crashing into you that he was subtly trying not to look in your eyes. But… damn, he had been missing out.

He swore that time stopped. His own heart stopped beating, even the sluggish beat leaving for a few moments. The noises from the town square were so dull that they seemed muted. The stares of Steve and Sam felt so far off that he didn’t even notice them. All he knew was that he was utterly entranced by you, and for a second, he could have sworn that by the look in your eyes, you felt the same way. But like the blaring of an alarm, something knocked you both out of it, putting you in the present, with present problems.

“Oh, the fruits,” you muttered, looking at the peaches and apples that tumbled right out of your basket, bending over quickly to collect them despite the fact that they had gotten bruised. Bucky’s heart jumped to his throat with guilt when he realized he had ruined the fruit you had either picked or paid for, and then he was rushing to get them even faster, praying to the gods that you didn’t automatically hate him.

After looking into your eyes, he doubted he could live with himself if you even so much as disliked him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I don’t have the best footing,” he apologized again, gently placing the fruits back into your basket.

“It’s okay,” you said, and your eyes trailed behind him to look at his friends that were howling with laughter, holding onto each other. He saw your displeasure, and his heart dropped when he understood that you probably thought they had sent him over just to mess with you. Your eyes whipped back to Bucky, and he blushed something fierce. He felt his cheeks warm up under your scrutiny, and then there was a smile creeping back onto your face. “I'm Eurydice.”

Oh, Gods. Eurydice. He swore that he had never heard something so beautiful in his life. He had grown up with the Muses, even had a mother as one, and was surrounded by music and poetry and epics every second of his childhood. Music was imprinted in his mind, every note embedded in his everyday life, yet still it was the most beautiful- “But I go by Y/N.” No. Eurydice was now second. But your name, the one he knew you had chosen for yourself, was the most beautiful thing that life had ever offered him to hear.

His brain was going many miles a minute, as quick as Hermes on a mission, but all he could do in the end was blink and offer his true name first, like politeness called for. “I’m Orpheus,” he extended his arm again to you, and you shook it twice. Your hand was soft, so soft that he didn’t want to let go of it. He would never forget the feeling of your hand in his, and the way he swore that the nerves under his skin were alight with the gentlest and sweetest of fires. “You can call me Eurydic- I mean, Bucky. I’m Bucky.”

You could both hear the laughter coming from Bucky’s friends, and while you were cracking a small smile, Bucky was dying on the inside. “You like to be called by other people's names?”

“I wouldn't mind being called by yours,” he blurted softly, his words coming out as a quick and uncalculated slur. He blinked abruptly when he realized that he was truly having the worst first introduction he had ever had in his life, and it was the one that somehow meant the most to him. “I- only because Eurydice is such a pretty- so is Y/N- I… I’m sorry.” He shook his head, knowing that he was so close to just having to walk away. Instead of embarrassing himself further, he just gave you a short smile and waved, turning on his heel.

“I’m Orpheus, then. Maybe Bucky, too.” He slowly turned back around, a shocked look on his face. Had you really spoken to him again with your own free will?

Bucky knew that he wasn’t ugly. No god or demigod was ever ugly, other than poor Hephaestus. He knew that he had his own sort of charm and that he could bring the roughest of people to tears and the saddest of people to joy with his music, but he didn’t know anything else. He had three redeeming qualities that swirled in his head constantly- he was pretty, he had music, and he had a famous mother.

“Are you a singer?”

“Huh?” So much for eloquence.

You bit your lip. “You speak… you speak like you have a song in your heart. Are you a singer?”

He was stumped. Most knew at least of his music if nothing else. He was the most famed god or man to ever strum a lute besides maybe Apollo. Most knew nothing of his personality and nothing about him other than the fact that he was born to play and sing, and you didn’t? Where had you been living? “Well, I’m Orpheus.”

There was a grin on your face, and Bucky knew that he never wanted to see anything other than that for the rest of his life. “And that makes you a singer?”

He opened his mouth again, ready to talk about who he was born from and where he learned to play and who taught him, but when he looked deeper and saw the spark of mischief in your eyes, he leaned back and held back a small smile of his own. His heart fluttered and grew two sizes. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

“Maybe I don’t,” you said, obvious teasing in your voice, and somehow it still stayed kind. “Maybe I do, and just wanted a free song out of you.”

She knows me, he thought, and his heart may as well have let out a lovesick sigh from within the confines of his chest. She has never heard me sing before, but she will. I’ll sing her a thousand songs.

“I’ll sing you all the songs you desire if you marry me,” he blurted, and while his mind was scolding him for uttering those words so quickly, his heart was steady on beating and so sure of itself that he told his mind off.

To his subtle surprise, you didn’t look shocked. You weren’t disgusted by his rather bold approach and most importantly, you weren’t laughing at him. He held onto your silence in limbo, waiting for you to say something that would either crush him to bits or send his soul rising so high that he reached the cloudy gates of Olympus.

“If you can make me a song that can make the skies open up and weep without singing a word, then I’ll marry you.”

His heart soared. His hands shook. He could have sworn that even his toes clenched. But all you could see were his wide, boyish eyes, and the hopeful look that dawned across his face. He nodded quickly. “I’ll do anything.”

He saw your lips pull up into a smile, genuine and even a little shy, and he couldn’t help but want to step closer. But he knew he had already been up front and abrupt, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away.

“Okay,” you said, nodding your own head slowly. “I’ll see you soon, then, Bucky.” You took a step back, eyes still connected to his blue ones until you finally turned around and walked away with the same basket on your arm, same dress swaying with the tuneless song of the wind.

The three of them stood in silence, watching you walk away, taking pieces of Bucky’s heart with you in your cradled arms. The bustling of the town was loud, moving about like nothing of significance had happened right where they were all standing, and Bucky found it nothing short of insane. Did no one else just see how the world stopped turning for that one girl? How the Fates put a pause on the clock just so that they could meet?

Steve’s voice brought him out of it. “Did you just ask for her hand in marriage?”

He didn’t even have the energy to shrug. All the swirled in his mind was love, passion, music, and you. You, you, you. “I had to.”

“How will you even find her again?” Steve asked, his logic once again being the only thing that held Bucky down to the ground.

“I know the work of Eros when I see it,” Sam said to Steve, shaking his head somewhat fondly at the pale boy with brunette hair who was still staring off in the direction you left in, like you would miraculously appear again. “They’ll find each other again soon enough.”

The hours went by and then the daylight turned into night and back to day again, and Sam’s words couldn’t have been truer. Your spirit and your face and your voice found Bucky with every few seconds that passed by. He couldn’t blink without seeing you. He couldn’t listen to anyone without hearing you. He couldn’t breathe without smelling your beautiful scent. Everything tasted bland, looked plain, and sounded like white noise after he met you. He knew that until his last (and unlikely) breath, his heart would ache for nothing more than to be yours. He wanted his ring to be on your finger, and yours to be on his.

So he began to make a song.

§§§

He worked tirelessly. The hours below the sun that used to be spent laughing and playing with Steve and Sam were exchanged for hours of composing. His normally perfect posture was hunched over as he tried to find the melody that had stirred in his heart when he first saw you- because he knew that was it.

By the end of twelve days of pure struggling, most of the song was finished. He was a fast worker, so fast that it made everyone else’s heads spin, but he felt it was going too slowly. But then again, he was fast at everything. The melody was as stuck with him as his skin was to his body. He was sure that it would never leave him, even if he wrote a thousand more songs. And part of him never wanted it to go, because it was so you.

He had only held one conversation with you, and it wasn’t long enough, but he felt like he had known you for years. He felt like he had sung to you hundreds of times and danced with you a hundred times more. Your soul felt so familiar yet so foreign that he had to chase after you, and had to discover anything that he could have missed. He knew that you were his destiny, and he had a feeling that you knew he was yours.

The song he was writing wasn’t sad, but it brought tears to his eyes all the same. It wasn’t about longing or loss or chasing after something that would never come to you, but it made Steve and Sam wipe their eyes all the same. It was about your beauty, your inherent wit and kindness, and the way that you set his soul free from chains he didn’t even know of. It was about a love he had never dreamed of finding or even thought to be true, and that was enough to make the three of them weep.

“I think it’s finished, Buck.” This came from Steve after he wiped his eyes again, sitting through the full song again even though his heart aches for a love he had never felt before. “Sam thought it was done days ago.”

Sam had left the two of them alone days ago, claiming that he couldn’t stand to hear the melody and cry each time, claiming that it was beautiful but too much. It made sense. Even Bucky himself was starting to feel the effects of it. But Steve was a stubborn thing, and he would sit through it for as long as Bucky would play it.

“You think it’s enough to make the skies open and cry?” Bucky breathed out, loosely quoting the words he had heard from you not too long ago.

“Even if it’s not, it will surely win her over,” Steve said. “She was already wooed by you, you’re a fool not to see it. She was excited enough that you even agreed to make the song in the first place, anyway.”

Bucky sat there for a few minutes as his fingers tingled, expecting to be used again to pluck the magnificent strings. But he set his instrument down on the log he sat on, sighing and placing a hand under his chin, his thoughts trailing over to you for the thousandth time. “I hope she accepts it.”

Steve just looked at him. “I think that if you came empty handed and told her half of the words you tell me and Sam, she’d follow you anywhere.”

Steve was right. Steve had to have been right, or he was going to wilt right in front of you. He had to be. The brunet nodded, biting his pink lip before opening his mouth again. “Where do you think I’ll find her?”

§§§

It didn’t take long to find you at all. Bucky went to find you alone, finding you because something inside of him told him to search the flowering fields nearby, and there you were. There was a hat made of straw over your head to cover your eyes and face from the sun, and you had the same basket on your arm that you had the other days. It was empty this time, and he had no doubt that you were looking at the flowers for fun before going to look for fruit. He couldn't help but smile fondly at you from across the field, and then he was gripping his lyre and taking a deep breath.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice full of emotion instead of being the strong sound he wanted it to be. Nonetheless, it caught your attention, and then your pretty eyes were wide on him. Immediately, your feet turned in his direction and you made your way across the meadow, and he followed suit. He met you in the middle, so nervous that the grin that was deep inside of him wasn’t coming out at all.

You were both at a loss for words as you stood close to each other. His hands shook at his sides, aching to hold your hands in his. He wondered if they were as soft as your voice, or as smooth as the petals flowers you admired. “You came?”

He blinked. Of course he did. It was all he could think of doing. “My only regret is not coming sooner,” he admitted, and he watched you angle your eyes downwards, and he smiled at your shyness. “Would you like to hear it?”

Your eyes were connecting with his again, and he could have sworn that your smile could have put him in an early grave. He was momentarily stunned by you and your brightness, so stunned that he hardly even heard what you said. “Of course I would.”

“So then you’ll hear it,” he said softly, his heart and mind completely taken over by you in your presence. He fixed his lyre into position, his fingers already fixed into the correct spots as he began to play your song.

His eyes were shut as he strummed just as he had practiced thousands of times, but he knew it felt different. His body was buzzing with excitement and something else he couldn’t identify, but he loved it. It made him play stronger. His eyes shut even more as he felt the music, swaying side to side a bit as he felt his heart open up to you, finally content with you hearing the song.

He didn’t even realize that he was done until all he could hear was quiet sniffles. He pried his left eye open, almost too scared to look for your reaction, but when he saw that you were just looking up at him with watery eyes and a wobbly smile, he opened his other eye, ready to spring into action.

The only thought going through his mind was that it was impossible that you liked it. The way you were looking at him reminded him of the way people looked at sculptures of ancient monsters— a muted type of awe, but also a sense of discomfort. He brought you to tears, and not in the way he wanted to. He ruined it.

“I- was it bad?” He blurted out, and he cursed himself at ruining his own chance. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you didn’t like it-”

“How long have you been playing that song?”

You were too beautiful. Too gentle. You were melting his brain into mush, and he doubted that he would be able to pick up his lyre for another round even if you begged him. “I… I just made it. For you, I made it with you in mind.”

Your facial expression didn’t change. “Where’s the ring?”

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“The rings we’re going to wear when we wed,” you said, almost teasing. “Do you have them?”

His eyes widened. “You want to marry me?” He asked, leaning forward a bit in shock. “The sky didn’t- the rain never came.”

“I cried,” you said, a small smile on your face. You still hadn’t wiped your tears, and he watched them frozen on your face, stuck in time. “I didn’t expect the work of the gods. I just wanted you to play for me.”

He was bewildered. He had half of the mind to ask you if you truly meant it again, but he took his excitement and ran with it. “And you… you feel this too?”

You took his right hand into yours, and he swore that his souls ascended to the gates of Olympus and waltzed right in. “I felt it the second I saw you, Bucky.”

He blushed something fierce before looking down at the ground, shame overtaking his sheer admiration for you. “There’s something I should tell you before you say you want to be with me.”

“Tell me anything,” you encouraged softly, one of your hands coming up to brush his warm cheek.

“I don’t have much.”

And he didn’t. He had Sam and Steve and a nomadic lifestyle. He never stayed in the same place for long, and he didn’t have a roof over his head. He didn’t need one. Rain and wind and fire didn’t bother him. He preferred to live under the canopy of trees and the protection of nature. But he knew humans didn’t. He knew humans— especially women— liked when their partners brought things to the table, and he had nothing but strings and whistles. He had nothing materialistic. He had no gems, no coins, no house, and fancy clothes— nothing money could buy. But he looked at you and saw that you deserved it all, and even more he saw that he had no way to even provide it for you.

“I live in many different places, I don’t have a home. I don’t have money. I don’t have… I can’t buy you dresses or shoes or any of the stuff you would probably like… and I’m sorry. I know that will probably change everything, but I just wanted you to know.”

You took a step forward, strong and secure, and then your chin was tilted upwards. “Like I said, where are the rings?”

Bucky grinned.

§§§

The day of your wedding was blessed by the gods, whether they admitted it or not. You married each other in the meadow Bucky found you in with a small crowd of people, and when you kissed as man and wife, peace washed over the both of you, and it felt like your marriage had been approved by all far and wide. The kiss that you shared to make the wedding official was short and sweet and full of the most innocent of passion, and he felt so adored by the soft touch of your lips that he felt a singular tear cross the terrain of his pale face for the first time in years.

He didn’t even deny it.

He didn’t deny the way that you danced together was perfect. He had never guided you, had hardly even danced with another woman, but it was perfect. It was like he had practiced with you before a hundred times, and the feel of your hands in his was what kept him sane. He was convinced that you could do anything new with him and it would feel like you had done it before, just because you were so familiar to him as a whole.

He had known you for what felt like seconds in the grand scheme of things, but you knew him inside out and he knew you better than he knew himself. He could find you in the dark, you could identify him with just a whisper of his voice, and he could fall in love with you over and over without even touching you. He would perform the Sisyphean task of falling in love with you over and over again if it meant that he could be next to you.

And luckily, it turned out that you didn’t need the things that Bucky was sure you were going to. He got you a small house just for the two of you to come back to, and he still roamed around in the area. Steve and Sam would walk off and come back weeks later, just like they used to when it was the three of them together. And there would Bucky be, at the house he made possible for you, and happier than ever.

Bucky lived an extremely modest life with you, and he liked it. Farming and getting water from wells and working for the food that was on your tables, cutting wood to feed the flames in the pit in the middle of your main room. Life was somewhat repetitive, so repetitive that he was scared he would lose you to your wild imagination and beautiful, adventurous heart. But it had never been as fulfilling as it was with you.

The little things were what made his day. It was waking up with you at his side, tucked into his arms and still sleeping soundly while he made songs up in his head dedicated to you that made him smile. It was listening to you hum to yourself while you washed corn and peaches and squash in the buckets of water you had carried down the hill that served as your property. It was the way you would pull him out of a funk by taking his hand and leading him out of his chair, dancing to music that didn’t exist, or the way you would coax him to sing to the moon because you wanted a longer night. A longer night meant more time spent with each other.

When you woke up after your long nights, sometimes you would coax him out of bed for some daily challenge, a challenge that usually he would end up beating you at. Part of him believed that you just wanted him to show off, but you always said otherwise. You would challenge him in singing only to have him go first and not even sing, claiming you had already lost. You would tell him you wanted to race him to the stream and back, knowing that you would lose by a long shot. He could run circles around you if he hardly tried, and that was just in his godly blood. But there was never any jealousy, never any animosity, never any bitterness. It was all just sweet, it felt.

You were just so magical. It was so simple, the things that made him happy, but he knew that just one call from your soul to his was more than just communication. He craved it. He knew from the moment that he met you that his soul would always seek yours, even into the afterlife. He knew that every day with you would be as beautiful as you were on your wedding day, shining brighter than any gem or any star in the night sky. And none of it would ever change.

§§

Things changed. Just as the sun rose and set, so did time. It cranked on without a single hint of Bucky aging, and you were still as youthful as you were the three years prior. Life was still beautiful, and that was all that mattered.

You had traveled around the world with him, kissed in so many different cities with different kings and different cultures and different music. You had met so many different people, lived so many different lives, just to go back home and settle there. It was wonderful. He loved you, and you loved him. It was the kind of love that was never at risk of fading or thawing away. It was the kind of love that was only spurned on as the years crawled by, the days acting as twigs added to an already strong fire. It was such a beautiful thing that he had with you, and every day with you felt like one that was blessed by the gods themselves.

Until it didn’t.

Bucky had never felt fear in his heart like he did when he heard your scream travel across the meadow. He didn’t even put on his shoes before tearing off to find you, torn between begging you to make another sound so that he could hear you or pleading the gods to make the sound of your distress stop and never happen again. His chest rose and fell with the exertion, and he knew that he had never been so afraid in his life.

The scream was all that echoed in his mind when he ran through the woods, and as he stumbled upon fallen fruits and flowers that he just knew were yours. He realized he was at the end of a ravine almost too late, and when he looked down, following the steep curve of the slope with wary and partially-knowing eyes, he immediately doubled over.

There you were in all your fallen glory, legs bent unnaturally and neck twisted even worse. The light yellow of your dress was stained with brown and dark green, and in some places a deep red that made him sick to his stomach. Your eyes were looking up at the sky, staring right into the sun as it shone down on your figure, taunting him just like the breeze that began to make your dress look so lively.

Bucky fell to his knees right on the edge of the ravine, his heart not even lurching when he lost his balance. An arm reached out to you, like it was stuck in the moment before you fell and he could reach you. Tears were coming down his face slowly, steadily as he fought to get breaths in. He called your name.

He didn’t know how many times he called your name, or how far the sadness in it traveled. It must have been loud and long enough, because before he knew it, there were hands on his shoulders. They were warm and familiar and even the smallest bit comforting in that moment, but not enough. He wanted your hands.

“Let’s get away from the edge, Buck.” It was Steve’s voice, strong and gentle and the backbone of the situation. Bucky’s eyes pried open at the feeling of Steve’s sturdy hands pulling him backwards, and he retched in his mouth at the sight of your broken, soulless body at the bottom. He hadn’t even realized he had gotten so close to it himself.

“I’ll go down to…” Sam started, trailing off with a soft and distraught look on his face when he caught sight of Bucky again, and Steve nodded at him.

“Let’s get you up, Buck. Up and Washed off.” He hadn't even realized he was dirty at all. His hands were covered in dirt and under his fingernails were the same earthy brown he was used to. He had been pulling up grass from where he grieved without even noticing.

His sobs were so loud that they hurt Steve’s ears. His dragging steps were causing such a disturbance to the land around him that animals seemed to crane their necks at him and cast their glances his way, as if wondering how on earth a person could be that distressed. His mouth was moving, but it looked and sounded more like babbling and trembling as waterfalls came down the canvas of his pale skin.

“Buck, you have to calm down. You’re about to have an attack.”

He didn’t know if he meant heart attack or a panic attack, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you were dead, all twisted up at the bottom of a ravine. Your soul had left the earth, left your body, and you were just laying there like you had never been alive. Like you had never held his hand, or kissed his cheek, or wore his ring or laughed or sang or read fine poetry while eating the fruits you had picked. Seeing you down there with your open and dim eyes felt like you had never lived at all.

“Keep walking with me, buddy. You’re going to be just fine.”

But he wasn’t. Every step he took away from you made bile come up in his throat. He wanted to be as far away from your lifeless body as possible, but he didn’t want to ever let you go. He wanted to hold you close to him until it felt like you were alive again. But as his heart beat seemed to freeze up but race like a horse all the same, he realized that you would never be alive again. You were only as alive as your last few moments, whether they were filled with the joy and freedom of having the wind on your face or the fear of falling. He could do nothing to change it.

But he would try to do everything.

§§

He spoke to everything and nothing. Steve and Sam would take turns coming to him after they celebrated your life. It reminded Bucky of the way that his mothers friends used to come watch him while his mother was off and away somewhere, and how it felt like they thought of him as a cute little burden. He knew deep down that his friends cared for him more than anything and that he cared about them just as much, but he couldn’t think about anything but you. He wouldn’t.

It was a service that made the skies open just like you said they would for his voice. The day lilies that surrounded you and Bucky seemed to be weeping with him. The wind came from east to west and west to east, spinning around and throwing in the scent of the flower with the smell of oncoming rain, reflecting the turmoil he was feeling on the inside. He could have sworn that the earth had trembled just like his hands that held your cold and still ones. But if the world had caved down under him at that moment, he wouldn’t have moved. He wouldn’t have opened his mouth to scream, or even say a word. He would have only held your hand tighter.

He spoke to the moon more often than he did Steve and Sam. They hovered, but it was the kind of hovering that Bucky felt he would appreciate sooner or later. He would sit every night and talk to the moon with his legs pulled into his chest, small and in such a vulnerable position that it would have made him feel uncomfortable at any other time. But he was vulnerable. He had been knocked off of his feet and winded. The world kicked him while he was down more times than he could count, and they had opened his chest and peeked right into his heart before seeing it was unworthy and walking away from him. It left him bleeding out in the forest while he listened to the birds eventually go on back to chirping, and watched the flowers push through and grow, and people laugh and smile and talk like nothing changed.

He was doing just that. He was lying in the flowering fields that he would always swear belonged to you, the both of you, when he heard soft footsteps. He didn’t care to look up. He knew it wasn’t Steve or Sam, but why would he care? He had nothing to be scared of now that you were gone.

“You’re Orpheus.” It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t even blink, but an annoyance he couldn’t shake bubbled up inside of him at hearing the name his mother granted him coming from a stranger. As much as he wanted complete silence, he couldn’t help but say- “Bu- sure. I’m Orpheus.”

“Everyone heard, you know.” The voice was of an old, frail woman. Bucky knew that without even looking, He ignored the fact that pity was strong in her voice, and that he knew exactly what she was talking about. He ignored the way he knew that she thought that she had the right to talk about his wife, about the way he had lost you far too soon. She knew nothing. But he let her speak. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say a word. He didn't even recognize words as an option. He would stay silent and wait until she left. Maybe if he was quiet enough or stared up at the sky in such a still manner that it scared her, she would leave him. If he pretended to be as dead as he felt, he was sure she would leave.

“There hasn’t been a good song since you’ve stopped playing.” He heard rustling, and then he dared to look off to the side to see the old woman struggling to sit, cane wobbling in her hand as she finally plopped her frail bones onto the ground near him. He sighed heavily and looked back up to the sky. “You know, you’ve gotta be the most moving musician to ever walk the earth, from both god and man.”

It was a compliment that would have had him blushing years ago. It would have had his young mind fumbling for his lute or lyre and clearing his godly voice, asking if she wanted to sing with him or just listen. Now, it incited nothing. It meant nothing. “I doubt I’ll ever play again.”

“You pleased god and man,” the old woman carried on, almost like she had never heard him open to speak with that raspy voice of his that was so uncharacteristic of him that it hurt to hear. “Anyone would have done anything to hear your music.”

He finally turned to the side to look the old woman in her face, and he blinked at her. “I’m grieving.”

“You could persuade anyone with seven strings and five notes, don’t you understand that?” Her voice was almost angry. It was hard and nearly pleading, so different from her previous tone that Bucky snapped his head her way. “If I were you, I would have been at Death’s gates.”

They were staring at each other. Bucky was looking at the decrepit woman with curly gray hair that looked like she had dodged a visit to the Gates of Death herself more than once with shocked eyes. His heart started to beat again, like her words were arousing some kind of vicious hope that he never even knew could exist.

“The gods blessed your union. They won’t ever say, but they did bless your marriage. What makes you think that if you beg, you won’t get a blessed reunion as well?”

She disappeared within seconds of her final words, leaving a revelation swirling around in his mind and haunting his every thought.

§§

His feet ached. His hands were beginning to blister from stroking the strings of his tired lyre, and his throat was even beginning to strain. He had been singing for hours, pouring his heart out at the hidden gates of the Underworld, begging for an audience. But above all the physical pain ranked the ache in his heart, the unbearable feeling of your death sitting on his shoulders and ripping him apart from the inside. His grief was destroying him.

Hades might as well have had ears plugged up with the same wax that was used by Odysseus and his men. Usually he went undisputed, because just as life was certain, so was death. There was no questioning the decision of it, or the Fates, or the rule of Hades and his acceptance of his dear Eurydice into his kingdom. Everyone was allowed to plead and beg, but no one ever went down to the gates of the Underworld to ask for the release of a loved one, whether they were man or god. But there he was, standing in dirtied pants with fingertips plucked pink, and tears running down his face.

He didn’t know if he would ever gain the strength to leave. He didn’t know what he would do if someone even bothered to humor him. He wasn’t going to be able to have you back. He was never going to be able to bring you back up above, have you under the sun and shining beautifully like you were born to do. What would he beg of them? For them to let him see that your soul ended up in the Asphodel Meadows? For them to let him hold you one last time before you drank from the Lethe and forgot everything that happened? What if you had already drank from it? Each thought made his stomach lurch more, and his music grew louder and more desperate, like the final battle cry of a warrior.

His back was up against a tree as he sang out again in the night, praying for someone to hear him and take pity on his poor soul. Strike me down and send me with her, if you cannot give me the gift of seeing her again. The same tears that had been steadily pouring down his face were gathered in a puddle at his unmoving feet, yet he didn’t mind. He couldn’t.

“You have woken my wife.”

Bucky’s playing stopped immediately. “What?”

The man before him was dark. He was tall and seemed to take up almost the entire space even though he was only a bit wider than Bucky. His shoulders were broad and his chin was strong, and his eyes were sharp even under the gloomy look they had to them. His cheekbones were sunken in and his eyes had a ring of black around them, like he hadn’t slept in a thousand years. His lips were set in a hard line, but he didn’t look displeased. Most notably, he had a dark aura surrounding him, even black most coming from behind him and nearly encasing him.

“I don’t repeat myself, and luckily, it looks like you heard me the first time.” His voice was deep, enthralling, like a song that Bucky would never dare write himself.

What was a man this terrifying, this powerful, doing in the forest? How had Bucky woken a soul when he was in soulless territory? He hadn’t seen houses for leagues.

Something inside of Bucky begged him to apologize. It begged him to get into his knees and look downwards towards the growing grass and hope to be spared. If this was before he lost you, maybe he would have listened to it. But what did he have to truly live for now that his darling was gone?

“I’m sorry to have brought you out of your dwellings because of my grieving.”

There was a certain kind of silence that would have made Bucky’s skin crawl if he even dared to look the being’s way. “Grieving?”

“My wife.” He breathed out, finally letting his arms loose as he let his trust lyre fall down to his side. “She… has fallen prey to death.”

“Ah,” the man said, his voice nearly a scoff. “I see. The circle of life.”

“And now my life shall go in circles, on and on and down the same miserable path without the woman I love,” Bucky stated, resting his head back against the tree. “I wish I knew a man that grieved. Me… I live amongst gods. We don’t grieve. We don’t die. I have never met a man who had an inch of grief in his heart. I feel like the first to ever feel it.”

“We can lose people in other ways than death,” the man said. “Death is the most absolute, but it seems to hurt a lot less than voluntary abandonment.”

“This is my first brush with death, and I have to admit that I’m not the biggest fan.” What an understatement.

“That’s a shame. My wife is quite the fan of you and your… grief. She says it’s the most moving thing she’s ever heard.” Bucky just nodded, eyes far off. “She wants to meet you.”

“I don’t really want to meet anyone.”

“You don’t want to see my wife? You don’t want a two way ticket to the world you’ve been singing about taking passage to for days now, Orpheus?”

His head turned slowly, eyes widening as he tried to piece thoughts and facts together with his sluggish mind. “What?” But he knew. He knew with another glance at this man that he was no man at all, but one of the original gods. He was Hades, in the divine flesh, standing right before him with a glint in his eyes that meant he was satisfied by Bucky’s shock. He went to his knees, kneeling as a sob piled up into his throat.

“Your Excellency,” he began to plead, recalling back to the times he was a young god, listening to his mother explaining the way that he should speak to all the gods who came before him- especially one as powerful as Hades. “I apologize. My mind is not set right— the loss of my wife has taken a toll on me. Please forgive me.”

“Your grief blinds you.”

There was no point in lying. “It does.”

“I, too, was blinded by grief. In fact, it happens every other six months, though I suppose you young gods and humans call it winter and fall. My wife would leave, gone with a stroke of wind and then come back only to wilt again. But she, just like your own wife, will learn that there is nothing we can do about the situations we are in. Destiny will have us where she has us, and your Eurydice’s path above has ended.”

Bucky wanted to scream at him. He wanted to refuse him and tell him that Destiny and the Fates would have to bend to his will, because there was no other way. He couldn’t last another day without you, let alone a lifetime. But the god he was speaking to was Hades, and Bucky was just Orpheus, a low level demigod.

“However, my wife still wants to meet you. She wants to hear your song clearly, where it’s not muffled by distance.” His heart began to race. His hands were shaking. His eyes were wide as he tried to take in a deep breath, waiting for the gloomy god’s next words. “If you agree to see her and play her that song of yours, I’ll let you see this wife you speak of. Does that sound fair?”

Nodding was all Bucky could do to stay awake.

§§

The Underworld was just as gloomy as it was in the stories. Black and grey ran together to create a shadowy world, dismal and dark. It was full of strange sounds, like the whistling of thick wind that almost sounded like wailing humans. The air was so heavy that Bucky was finding it hard to breathe, and there was a mist so hard to cut through that Bucky could hardly see more than three feet in front of him at a time. Hades led him, and the only reason he could see him was because of his true height showing, and the fact that his dark smoke was even darker than the mist.

His hands shook. Both of them held onto his lyre for dear life. It was close to his chest, strings facing away from him, but still it felt like he could feel the vibrations of it, like the air was mocking him back by playing a song of its own. He resisted the urge to close his eyes and fall to his knees, the environment putting him in near shock.

But he had to find you.

Hades stopped in his tracks, turning his sunken face towards Bucky, who had to fight to not flinch. “If you play for my wife and she likes it, I’ll take you to see yours.” He nodded his head quickly, putting his lyre into position, his arms trembling with anxiety. The double doors opened without the old god even touching them, and then Bucky was faced with an ancient throne room, elegant and dark all the same.

The first thing he did once he got near the sitting Queen of the Underworld was kneel. Tears were already swirling in his eyes, and his throat was lurching. If he were a human, he was sure that he would have been throwing up. He prayed silently to his mother, calling upon the strength of the Muses and their talents into his blood once more.

It was silent until the queen finally spoke. “So you’re the musician?”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“I expected you to be much older,” she said, her soft voice a plain contrast from her husband’s, and the dark setting of the Underworld. And then, Bucky understood that the stories weren’t embellished. At first thought, she didn’t seem to belong down there, least of all with Hades. He didn’t dare look up at either of them. “Your grief seems to be centuries old.” It felt like it was. The hole in his heart felt older than he was.

“This is Orpheus, son of Calliope,” Hades explained. “He can’t be more than a few thousand years, if I remember correctly.”

“Young, very young.” Persephone mused, the tone of her voice almost curious. “And what causes you to play this song?”

He explained it. He explained all of it. Your death, his need to see you, his stupid hope of bringing you back home where you belonged. He left it all on the table for them both to hear, even though he knew that the odds were unlikely for him. He didn’t care. He didn’t care if he got ridiculed or thrown back out of the gate, all that mattered to him was that he tried his hardest to get you. And that you knew, deep down in your forgotten mind, that he tried.

“Your music has moved me so, truly.” Persephone said, and then Bucky looked up. She was beautiful, flowers all over her body. She was the brightest thing down there, no doubt, and she still had that godly glow that all the other gods had, a golden rim around her body. She turned her face toward her husband without taking her eyes off of Bucky. “And I want to give you a chance.”

Bucky’s heart stopped. “Your Excellency?”

She was facing Hades now. “Give him a condition.” She muttered, her hands gripping the arms of the throne she sat on. “But let him try.”

Hades frowned. “If I let her go, how many humans do you think will hear of this tale and try to do the same?”

“None.” The goddess answered quickly. “They’re afraid of you. This boy is not. And unlike gods, humans accept death. They know that it is a part of the cycle, and they wouldn’t dare dispute it. This is just a confused young god. He hasn’t seen death before. This will be the only time anyone will ever ask this of you, Hades.”

It was pure silence. It seemed to stretch on for eons as Hades contemplated his wife’s words. The lyre had fallen to the ground minutes before, and Bucky felt himself reaching for it. Tears were streaming down his face now. “I’ll play for you again. I’ll play for you for a decade straight if you let me take her home at the end, if you let her remember me.” He added desperately, body trembling with anticipation.

Hades had dark eyes, and those dark eyes were full of uncertainty and something close to anger while he stared at Bucky, with a look on his face that was so blank that it frightened him. His wife’s hand was on his chest as she pleaded with him on Bucky’s behalf, yet he only stared Bucky down.

“If you can walk your way out of my domain without turning back to look at her, you can take her with you above ground.” Bucky sobbed. “If you look back, boy, she stays in the Asphodel Meadows.”

Bucky sobbed again.

§§

His back faced everything. He couldn’t hear anything except for the beating of his own heart, the heartbeat that seemed to extend all the way down to the fingertips that gripped the infamous lyre in his hand. He shook with every breath, and every blink was harsh on his eyes as he tried not to cry.

He wished he could hear you. He wished he could hear your soft voice reassure him, tell him that you remembered everything, that you were right behind him and that you would follow him everywhere, just like he would follow you. Just like he had followed you. He wished he could hear you.

He wished he could feel you. If your warm hands could just ghost over his shoulders and push him forward without quite letting go, he would have made the trek a thousand times. If he could feel your hands brushing away the hair out of his line of sight, he would have been walking before Hades even gave permission. He wished he could feel you.

He couldn’t. But he would walk anyway.

He hardly heard Hades give permission, his ominous tone echoing through the otherwise empty cavernous area, or the sound of Persephone’s whispers. But he could feel it in the air, suffocating and burying him.

Every lift of his foot was agonizing, every step far heavier than he ever imagined he could bear. But he would do it for you. He would push. Every whisper of doubt that crossed his mind, he would throw away.

It didn’t matter that at times, he wasn’t sure if you got what you needed from him. It didn’t matter that he felt like you weren’t fulfilled by the life you had with him. He had faith. It dwindled with every step, but he had faith. He would keep it and nurture it with every breath he had inside of him on the long journey back home.

Seconds started to feel like minutes, and minutes started to feel like hours. He hated it. His throat was closing in on itself like his voice was his enemy, like the voice everyone thought was so golden was the voice that would be the final nail in his coffin.

His feet were still aching, but the ache had become dull. Louder and more painful was the feeling of the cold biting his skin, like it was a reminder to stay conscious, to stay alert and thinking. Thinking was his vice and virtue. The silence was too loud. His mind was in pain, his heart even worse as he started to feel like the cold was his antagonizer. It was cold up above. It was in the cold where you suffered the most, where you struggled to stay positive. It was in the cold where he could hardly provide for you. It was in the cold where he had to hold you so close to him that air didn’t stand a chance between the two of you because every other man had already chopped the good wood.

But at the same time, he began to feel warm. It felt so warm to his skin that it felt like he was about to step into Tartarus. And it was in the warmth that you dressed in that pretty, short dress that got you harassed by men without humanity. It was in the summer that he found he couldn’t defend you. It was in the summer that he had a flash of realization that he wasn’t strong enough. It was in the summer that he got an even more fleeting flash of the thought that he wasn’t enough at all.

It was in the spring, in the months where there was sun and soft breezes, that he realized again that he was of no help. He had gotten a job one spring that was honest work, but brought in a lot less for the household than you did. He was working with the hands that were already calloused over to help men far more experienced than him craft things to sell to the town. He worked hard to come home tired just to know deep down that for all his work, he had not much more than chump change and a positive outlook to his name.

It was one autumn that he realized how much he had failed you, and he swept it under the rug like he did every other season. One autumn, he walked in on you crying in the arms of your friend- the local plum vendor that Bucky always used to buy from- about how you were terrified of being pregnant. As he walked through the Underworld, he asked himself how he could have ever forgotten that moment. Because what you said had shaken his heart to the core.

“There’s no way I would be able to take care of it.”

It wasn’t the certain doubt that was plants in your mind. It wasn’t the fact that neither of you had noticed Bucky hovering in the door because you were sobbing so hard. It wasn’t the way the woman comforted you better than he thought he was ever able to- because with him, you just never addressed the bad. It was as swept under the rug as dirt was. It was the way you said “I”. Alone. By yourself. Him and his contributions weren’t even in the picture. Were they even contributions?

It was never his voice that was his greatest feature and his worst. It was his mind. His mind was his killer. His mind was a killer, his poison and his weapon, and he was turning it right onto himself. His legs trembled as he fought the urge to look, to crane his neck and get his disappointment over with. Were you following him? Did you even remember him- or had you already drank from the river that would steal all of the life that you had before? Had Hades tricked him into leaving quietly?

And if you did remember him, why on earth would you follow him? You would be following him back to a land that was full of struggle and making it through day by day. You would be trudging after him this time only for him to bring up the rear in everything else. He would be the one smiling at you after you came from working to the bone, providing for him and yourself. That was all he ever had to offer, a smile and a song. What could he truly trade for a smile and a song? What could he get you?

Nothing.

What could he do if you got hurt again?

Nothing.

What could he do with his life when he surfaced and found you not there, far behind in the Underworld?

Nothing.

The doubt piled up. It replaced the faith like the faith was a forest and doubt was a wildfire. Every footstep added to it. He was convinced. He was sure that the result of him turning around at that one moment could be no worse than him turning around when he got to be above ground and away from the suffocating death. You weren’t going to be there. Whether he turned right then or in a hundred years, you weren’t going to be there. If you were in your right, beautiful mind, you would have seen him begging and turned your eyes from him and pretended like you hadn't known him.

He couldn’t tell where he was. His breathing was too shaky for him to think about anything else but breathing and thinking about you. It was too dark. His feet hadn’t touched grass yet and he knew he had to try to keep pushing, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He was bursting at the seams to confirm something that he already knew was coming for him.

His feet dragged. His steps sped up but it felt like he was fighting quicksand. He was struggling to walk through it, fighting to take breaths in it. The shallow breaths were somehow pitched high, bouncing off of the rocky, cavernous walls he began to hate. The only thing on his mind was doubt, doubt, doubt. It was a fever he couldn’t sweat out. A tremor he couldn’t shake away. A dark color he couldn’t paint over. A shadow he couldn’t run from. And just when he couldn’t fight it anymore, he saw light.

He never ran so fast in his entire life. He wanted to escape the feeling clawing at his throat and chest, the dread and preparation for pure disappointment. He wanted to step into the light, step into something he knew, before he allowed himself to collapse in grief again. It felt like the light was getting closer, and then it would fade again and come back lighter. He didn’t register the sound of sobbing until the sound faded out and stopped echoing, and then he was aware that his feet were touching the grass.

His feet were touching grass.

His hands shook as he raised them to his face, cupping his cheeks as he came to the realization that he was out of the nightmare that was the Underworld. Emotions were rushing into him faster than he could understand what they were, and then his mind stopped. His face was dry. His head whipped around.

Your eyes were wide and watery. Your dress was torn and bloody, just like it was when you had died. Your hair was a mess, and you were shaking from crying so hard. You stood there like a ghost, transparent and out of place, but crying real tears all the same. The sobs he had been hearing weren’t his own. They were yours. And you were still encased by the shadows of the Underworld.

You had been trying to catch up to him.

“Oh!” His exclamation was more of a dying moan than anything else. His trembling hands cupped his mouth again as he watched you cry again, crying even harder than that one time where the leaves were falling. He uttered your name once, and then once turned into four times, and as your cries got louder, his muttering turned into a shout, your name the one word he was calling out over and over again.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry baby.” He watched as you opened and shut your mouth over and over, shaking your head as silence was all you could produce. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He was drawing blood from how his fists were clenched. “Baby, my sweet love, my darling,” the names were dripping from his tongue like honey, like it was a balm that could soothe the both of you. His apologies were just as tender, as quiet and disbelieving as the language his eyes were speaking. He couldn’t help but reach out to you with a dying apology on his lips, his foot crossing the barrier you would be stuck behind forever, and just before he touched what must have been your cold skin, there was nothing but air.

Nothing but your lingering presence and his poisonous mind.

§§

He never thought that life could be so meaningless. Even before he met you, he felt like he had a purpose. He was an entertainer, a traveling man, a man who brought joy and music with him effortlessly wherever he went. Not anymore.

He was empty, and he felt like an empty glass jar. He wasn’t even an empty box— he was something anyone that had eyes could see right through. Everyone saw him and knew he was the one who had lost a wife and in turn given up all his divine talent. They looked at him through lenses that were wet with pity. He hated it.

He hated himself for doing the same to the humans who had lost loved ones. He felt horrible for giving them those looks, for telling Steve and Sam their stories without really knowing it. Now he was going through the unimaginable.

Nothing mattered, he learned. He thought that thought over and over again every time he woke up and every time he was going to sleep. He thought it while he sat in the cold on one winter night with no fire in the fireplace. It was something that would have made him worry a bit, or made him irritated at himself. Nothing really caused him to get angry or sad anymore. He was just there. It was like he was living yet another death by extension. The world gave him his cards and he played them in the worst way possible. But that’s what he did. He couldn’t change it.

He couldn’t change anything. All he could do was pray that you forgot the way that he failed you time and time again, and then where it was most important.

He would remember enough for the both of you.

****

hi guys! i feel like i literally have come back from the dead with all the time i’ve been in and out of here. it’s been so hectic and busy that i’m proud i got this out so soon lmao- i worked hard on this, so if you were feeling it please like and reblog!!

[ladyeliot]

Are you happy? [2/2] +18

Part One

Pairing: Ex!Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Summary: After almost two years without seeing each other, fate brings you together again, each of you has your own reason for the reunion, which brings your feelings to the surface again.

Warnings: Angst. Sentimental confusion. Infidelity. Unprotected sex.

Word count: 3975

A/N: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

John Steinbeck once said 'One can find so many pains when the rain is falling', you had never understood that phrase, never until that very moment. The drops seemed to descend fiercely, crashing firmly against your face, you hardly realised at what point the intensity of the rain had become so extreme, as you continued to be completely blocked from contemplating the face before you, and time never stopped.

The red brick of the Victorian houses, decorated with colourful flower boxes, seemed to create an idyllic scene of which you two were the protagonists in that narrow alley, but neither of you noticed. Words that could not now be erased from your mind had come out of his mouth, a mouth that was at that moment half-open as if it wished to express something else, but did not. You had had to deal with enough events in your life to know how to deal with any new moment that came your way, at least you thought you had, but you would never have thought you would have to face this. A dilemma opened up in your mind, but also in your heart, you were sure that you loved Chris with all your heart, you had loved him for as long as you could remember, he was your childhood friend, you never knew when your feelings became romantic, he didn't know either, but you had your assumptions.

Anyway, that love had never gone away, and it was never going to go away, it was going to be there for the rest of your lives, but things were not as simple as they might seem. Your love might have worked during your adolescence, during your youth, but when things got serious, somehow or other the relationship didn't move forward. There were no third parties, no cheating on either side, just different paths. Each of you had your own dreams that pushed you further and further apart, so far apart that you decided to end the relationship, which was not in the most amicable way possible.

The last two years were difficult for you, your smile had vanished from your face, but Garret appeared to give it back to you. You believed again that love was possible, and of course, although you always used to keep Cjris in mind, for which you used to blame yourself all the time, life seemed to be much simpler. Partly because of that, and because you loved him, you had accepted Garret's hand a month ago, but unfortunately you couldn't help imagining Chris the moment you said 'yes, I want to marry you'. And now there he was, Chris, in front of you, telling you that he was still in love with you and you could barely say a word because you had no idea how you felt, you didn't want to hurt anyone, you didn't want to suffer or anyone else to suffer because of you, but apparently it was too late.

Raindrops slid down your face, wiping away tears that you barely realised were flowing from your eyes, which were staring into Chris's. The radiant rays of sunshine had disappeared, bringing gloom to an autumnal morning, only the sound of the thunderstorm could be heard. The radiant rays of sunshine had disappeared, offering the gloom of an autumnal morning, only the rumbling of the storm could be heard. Chris finally lowered his face, nodding to himself, as if he had assumed defeat by not saying anything in the situation.

"Alright," those words came from inside him with a sigh. "I guess there's not much more to say," there was a moment of silence, in which he offered you one last chance to speak, but you could not. "All the best Y/N."

The lump in his throat that had been present since Chris had left his feelings open was massified when you heard your name forming on his lips. Before he turned away and continued on his way through the alleyway, he returned his eyes to yours in the hope that you would take control of yourself and stop him, but again you didn't. So you stood there, letting the rain wash over every part of you. So you stood there, letting the rain wash over every part of your body, watching as his figure gradually disappeared until he turned the corner and you lost him, lost him completely.

You had lost track of time since you left that coffee shop, you were stopped in that place for minutes, until your lower limbs mechanically carried you back to the car, where you remained silent for fifteen minutes. Your senses didn't seem to react, perhaps because you didn't want to feel, because you knew that if you felt you would be capable of doing something crazy, which would surely hurt someone a lot and you didn't want that to happen. His words played over and over in your brain, you glimpsed the blue of his eyes, the smile as you entered the cafeteria, his scent flowing into your nostrils, and his touch as you snuggled into his arms. It was like an internal torture that you couldn't get rid of, that you didn't really want to get rid of. Because who would want to get rid of the love of their life?

It was when the moisture on your face dried up that you realised that the wateriness of your eyes was not because of the raindrops but because you were broken. That revealed a large part of your feelings, your true feelings, which you had kept hidden, you loved him, with all your heart, as you had never loved anyone else, you had loved him for as long as you could remember, how could you not continue to love him?

A click made you connect again and brought you back to the real world, maybe your emotions were running high, but for once in your life you decided to act in the moment, leaving rationality aside, which had not allowed you to act before. You started the engine of the car, you knew perfectly well which direction you were going to take, you had travelled that road so many times that you hardly had to think about how to get to his house, where you hoped he would be. Your heart was racing and your adrenaline was pumping, but your hands around the steering wheel reminded you of that engagement ring on your left ring finger, causing you to slow down and stare at it. What the hell were you doing? If you did what you had in your mind two options were open to you, one was to make the biggest mistake of your life, the other was to win back the love of your life by breaking Garret's heart. Whichever you chose, someone would lose out.

Cars overtook you on the left as you kept wondering what to do, while the sky was still overcast and the rain was pouring down. Time became your enemy again, causing you to arrive in front of Chris's house without clearing your mind. You felt like you were back in the coffee shop, wondering whether or not to go in, whether or not to confront Chris. You turned off the engine of the car and dropped your forehead on the steering wheel, you could hear the drops falling hard on the roof of the car, which seemed to help you relax, strangely. You turned your face, staring at the front door of the house through the window, completely wet. The cafeteria had been a neutral place, this house was not, too many memories enveloped those four walls to go inside and not be affected by it. You were lost if you went in there, you knew what was going to happen and that you were going to let your feelings take you.

As if you wanted to give it one last chance you looked at the engagement ring that Garret had given you a month ago, you hoped that something would tell you that the best thing to do was to start the engine of the car again and get away from there as soon as possible, but it didn't. So you played your last trick.  So you played your last trick, a very dangerous one, you asked yourself the same question that Chris had asked you and that you had answered systematically without thinking, were you happy, does Garret make you happy? Then you knew. The next thing you did, you did it with all the pain in your heart, but you needed to think about yourself, the future you wanted, who you wanted to spend it with and most importantly, you wanted to be happy, so there was only one possibility.

Looking at the ring you slowly pulled it off your finger, your eyes started to water, you wanted to do it differently, but Garret was thousands of miles away, so you did what you felt at that moment. Again the rain came down on you as you stepped out into the open, but you didn't care at all, your gaze was fixed on that white door that was going to open the way to your past. As you walked steadily you let the air invade your lungs giving you the strength to face what was about to come. A faint light came through the curtains of the window that overlooked the living room, that erased the doubts that invaded you in case he wasn't at home, and without knowing why your heart skipped a beat.

There you were, a metre between you and his door, a single gesture away from letting him know you were there, and you did it, your index finger approached the doorbell, a squeaky melody sounded inside the house, and you took a step back, marking a distance for when the door opened. You looked down at your hands and fiddled nervously with your fingers, which were dripping from the rain. It was thirty-six seconds before you heard the lock turn and the door open, presenting the figure of Chris before you. You looked up nervously, not knowing what gesture you were going to get from him, but what you could glimpse was a state of confusion and hope mingled in his eyes. You parted your lips, still playing with your fingers.

"I..." was the only thing you could say before a lump rose in your throat and your tears wandered and mingled down your cheeks.

You turned your face and placed the palm of your hand on it, as if to hide the fact that you were crying. At that very moment, arms wrapped around your body and pulled you inside the house, making their body heat and that of the interior of the room cover your body. You broke down emotionally, you knew it was one of the things that could happen, too many emotions to keep them all hidden inside you. So soft sobs began to come out of your throat, you kept your eyes closed and your forehead resting on Chris's chest as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body.

"It's okay," he murmured against your head, letting out a sigh. "I'm here. I've got you."

After those words he placed a kiss on top of your head and then rested his hands on your cheeks, pulling away from you a few inches to search your face with his gaze. That was the last thing you wanted to do, because you felt confusingly embarrassed about the situation that was happening, he knew it, he knew you hated crying in front of people, but it was him after all. Chris gently lifted your chin to force you to look at his face, where there was a longing smile on his lips, but you averted your gaze, causing his smile to widen and he moved closer to your forehead to kiss it before he hugged you again.

"You're completely soaked," he whispered. "Come with me, the fireplace is lit, I'll get you some towels and some dry clothes."

Again the proximity was broken, but not the contact, Chris intertwined his fingers with yours, realizing something, you saw how he looked at your intertwined hands and then stared at you with his lips parted as if he wanted to ask, but he didn't, he preferred to ignore it. Your steps took you to your memories, when you entered the living room it was inevitable not to think about the times you both had occupied that sofa, or the times you had made love on that carpet next to the fireplace, it was an open diary.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back," he said, unlacing his fingers and heading upstairs via the staircase.

Your decisive mood with which you had left the car had collapsed at the mere sight of him, the little plan you had improvised in your mind had been cut short, putting you back on your own in the face of destiny. But what you were really sure of was what you felt, at least it was something you were sure of, it was him, only him, at that moment looking carefully all around you you realised that you never wanted to live again without him in your life, in whatever way it was, because in truth you were also in love with him, although you had tried to erase him from your mind during those two years.

His footsteps coming down the steps made you alert again, Chris entered the room holding two folded towels in his hands along with a sweatshirt you knew perfectly well and a pair of sweatpants, he stood in front of you.

"You can go and change in the bathroom, or if you prefer in the bedroom," he said offering you the set of items, "you know where everything is... if you want to give me your coat, I can put it in the dryer."

You nodded softly, still looking into his eyes, the warmth of the fire in the fireplace to your right washed over you, and the shadows created a pleasant ambience against the darkness outside. Slowly you undid each button of your coat and removed it from your body, offering it to Chris who took it in his free hand. You didn't know what happened in that instant, whether it was the intensity of your gaze, or the silence that was only broken by the raindrops and the sparks from the firewood, but you didn't stop. Just as you had undone the buttons on your coat you began to undo the buttons on your blouse, Chris's eyes shifted from yours to your hands and every movement they were making. As you finished you let the soaked blouse fall down your arms and onto the carpet, exposing your bare skin, covered only by a black bra.

In those moments, Chris's limbs seemed to be locked as he continued to hold the clothes and towels in his arms, still looking at your body with a look on his face that you couldn't describe. You offered him a few seconds of time to see how he reacted, but he said nothing, your hands slowly moved to the button of your trousers which you undid without looking away from his face, unzipped the fly and pulled your legs out through his thighs, leaving him again next to the blouse. That was the moment when Chris let everything he was holding fall from his arms and without a second thought he wrapped his hands around your body, pulling you closer to him, breaking the tension of the moment, wrapping your lips around his, kissing you as if his life depended on it. A gasp came from inside you as if the physical contact you were having wasn't enough, as if your chest was going to explode from one moment to the next. He brought his hands to your face pulling you away from him, needing to look at you to make sure that what was happening was real and not one of the fantasies wandering through his head.

"Don't stop," you murmured feeling weak as he pulled away from you.

As if on direct order Chris closes the distance again, but this time gently, caressing your lips tenderly, but the wetness of his lips and the roughness of his beard causes a moan of need to be reborn within you. His hands roam over your bare shoulders, gently down your arms, resting on your hips, as yours rested on his neck, preventing him from pulling away from you again. You felt small shivers of pleasure with every touch of his fingers on your skin, you knew that the situation would go as far as you wanted it to, that at that moment you had the reins, but really you had already lost them a long time ago. You dropped your hands until you reached the top of his sweatshirt which you pulled up indicating your need for him to disappear from his body. Chris acted, exposing his body to you.

Your fingertips scanned every nook and cranny that you thought you had lost, that you thought would never be yours again, but there they were before you. Chris brought his lips to your neck, making you lose your reason for being again, as he caressed your back and took the liberty of unclasping your bra, causing it to fall to the carpet. You knew then that you would never tire of the fluidity of his tongue running along your collarbones until it came to rest on your breasts.

A contraction arose in your intimacy making you realise the need you were exploring for him at that moment. Without hindrance you took it upon yourself to undo the button of his jeans that slid down his legs revealing his need for you.

"You can't imagine how many times I've thought about this moment," he mumbled against your lips, undoing his trousers as best he could.

His arms curved to grasp your thighs and encircle his hips, letting your naked bodies collide, that movement alone an action that brought you to lie on the woollen carpet. The softness of his fibres and warmth enveloped your back, as Chris's lips trailed across your belly while your panties trailed down your thighs until they disappeared from the scene. The shadows wandered between you, the fire seemed to want to be part of the moment and you appreciated it, it was warm, but no more so than his lips resting on your centre, sliding his tongue between your folds, making you lose your composure, letting him know the pleasure you were feeling at that very moment. The throbbing in your core began to intensify as his tongue brushed against your clit, until you could take no more and became a prey to your own pleasure, calling out the culprit's name over and over again.

But before you could even relax, before the throbbing could stop, you felt Chris want to be a part of it and gently thrust inside you, causing a deeper moan from both of you to fill the room. It had been too many years together, you knew to the millimetre the sensations the other person experienced, what made them feel the most pleasure, what they liked. Chris loved to feel your throbbing when his tongue made you orgasm around him, and that was a sensation he extrapolated. Inside you, however, he just felt you around the stiffness of his member, he barely made any movement, he just kissed your neck, lying on top of you, waiting for the calmness to take over and transport you back to paradise.

"Move, please," you begged, hoping to prolong the moment of pleasure you had just experienced, preventing him from leaving at all.

His movements began delicately, keeping himself propped up on his elbow while his other hand cupped your hip. Having him on top of you, the two of you lying on that carpet which had been part of your love on so many occasions felt like you had travelled through time. His ragged breaths came against your face, you wrapped your legs around his waist so that the depth of his member was greater. You could feel the rapport between the two bodies, the need to have each other again. Nothing seemed to matter in those moments, you felt his movements erase all the worries that were present in your mind, the only thing that mattered in those moments were the two of you.

His lips were pressed to yours, letting out gasps as his movements increased in speed. Your fingers were lost in his hair, as you kept your eyes closed, exploring how the pleasure continued each time his member slapped against your inner wall. And you felt it, his stiffness swelled inside you, you knew that's what it meant, he was close. You opened your eyes to find that his gaze was focused on you, that he was waiting for some sign from you that would prevent him from carrying out his release, but you merely trapped his lips between yours and placed a hand on his hip to keep him going.

A much smaller free fall than the first one you had felt engulfed you next to him, his moans projecting your name into the inside of your head, his movements becoming irregular and deep, making your bodies move across the carpet.

Calm, after a few minutes, came over you, making you feel the burn of your back from the rubbing of your nakedness against the carpet, making you feel the dampness of your hair still present and the flush of his cheeks from the heat of the fire in the fireplace. After Chris came out from under you and settled right behind you, you curled up sideways facing the fireplace. You felt his lips kiss every part of your reddened back and his arm went around your waist pulling you to him.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he placed a kiss on your bare shoulder.

"I think so," you replied contemplating the sparks from the firewood.

Fortunately you didn't have to project your feelings, he knew how you might be feeling right now, though he didn't get half of what you were really going through.

"I think you know that," he began in a soft tone that matched the atmosphere, "but I need to tell you that I love you," there was silence, as your torturous feelings came over you. "I know your head will be a complete mess right now, I don't want to burden you, I just want you to know that I'm here, that I'm still in love with you and that I intend to never part from you, if you'll let me."

Vulnerability came over you as you heard those words, you felt like you were a child again and you were faced with a decision you weren't capable of facing, you just wanted to feel protected, so you turned your body and came face to face with Chris. His legs wrapped around yours, agreeing to an even more intimate moment if that was possible. When you looked up into his face his smile was waiting for you to relax, to make you see that he was there with you, that everything was okay.

"Everything will be fine," his voice was confident, warm, his voice denoted the future.

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[gryffindors-weasley]

Closed For Business

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: When an unexpected visitor arrives at your bookstore, jealousy ensues.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: flirting, jealousy, fluff, kissing

Your shift at William and Bette’s Bookstore hadn’t been too terrible that day. It most certainly had been a busy one, the rather inclement weather not deterring anyone from stopping in, but you suppose a little foot traffic wasn’t quite so bad when you worked a job that you loved. It was a sweet little place, lined floor to ceilings with a variety of books so vast it was impossible to browse through in just one visit. The wooden bookshelves were organized A-Z, winding and curving around the one-floor shop, lamps littering about as a station for hot chocolate and tea resides in the very far corner.

You’d started working there about a year after the second wizarding war had concluded its disastrous rampage. You were in need of something, anything to busy yourself with. It was a cozy little place, tucked warmly and welcomingly next to your favorite bakery; needless to say it always smelled of cinnamon and old books.

You found it when you were in town with Draco, Narcissa having sent him out to a shop you hadn’t entirely known what for. Perhaps it was for new floral arrangements to have around the Manor—it was absolutely that actually. She’d wanted to liven up the otherwise bleak and somber estate, flowers always having been something to brighten her spirits with her husband having been away in Azkaban for a number of years to come. It was then that you spotted it, the ‘help wanted’ sign taped just inside the old window of the little shop. It’d been Draco who nudged you to go for it, both literally and figuratively as he pulled you along by the hand, so you did. You took the leap and they hired you on the spot much to your delighted surprise.

Long story short, you had been working there since you were nineteen, now twenty-four. The owners, William and Bette, had been and continue to be endlessly welcoming and jovial, and you found you hadn’t wanted to work just anywhere else. It was perfect, in a small town of one of a kind shops and equally one of a kind cottages—one of which you resided in with the love of your life. It was a fairytale, as much as it could have been for two magically inclined lovers who’d been put through more than most could even fathom before the age of twenty-five. Most people thought magic had just been a trick of the eye.

Presently, you were helping your very last customer of the day, relief settling upon you only minutely. Granted, he was someone you hadn’t expected to show up to a bookstore, not even remotely nor the one in your tiny town but you suppose books had their charm. It’d been nearly ten minutes since you’d rung up Cormac’s book, ten minutes since the shop was set to close and he still stood before you with a grin that was telltale to his flirting.

He’d been trying valiantly to win your affections ever since your sixth year, and even more so when a certain blonde in particular had been far more successful at it than him. You never cared for the boy then, always far too full of himself to see things with any sort of rationality. He’d been too self absorbed to capture any sort of attention from you. You supposed Draco hadn’t been vastly different, he’d certainly had the tendency to be so arrogant, but he was far changed from that now. Leaps and bounds different.

He’d come in what had to be nearly half an hour ago, and surely he hadn’t been as interested in the books he’d been looking at as he’d tried to be. Not with the way you’d met his gaze on more than one occasion. It was laughable, really, to be so flirtatious was something that seemed to be rather tiring after a while. In fact, he’d been so caught up in trying to impress you he’d just about knocked over the newly added display for new arrivals. Perhaps he didn’t know your heart belonged to someone else, to the very same person it belonged to the last time you were in each other’s company. Surely he didn’t know that otherwise he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself.

You sigh at the ever so distinct sound of the bell over the door ringing out, effectively cutting him short of his words momentarily and signaling the entrance of someone else to tend to. Someone that should have read the sign on the door much like the one rapidly overstaying his welcome as the clock had struck seven. The sign on the door had been flipped, it was obvious as the lone four letter word stared back at you and ‘closed’ faced boldly towards the town in red cursive letters. You didn’t take the time to look for just who it’d been that came in, however, continuing to wipe the counter with a sigh.

“We’re closed,” you call out around Cormac’s shoulder, offering him a polite smile. A silence fell over the small store as you purse your lips, and he was quick to continue the conversation just where he’d left off minutes prior.

“We’re going to be traveling across the country next month. It’s the most important match of the season,” he says, his chin in his hand as he leans with his elbow against the counter. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you and you tried your hardest to suppress your giggle; he looked absolutely ridiculous, his heart eyes for you beyond comical.

“Oh really?” You inquire then, completely amused at the sheer effort he’d been so desperately putting into impressing you. Little did he know there’d been a brilliant Healer, the best of his time, that had stolen your heart since the day he’d healed you after a clumsy mishap. Cormac hadn’t changed one bit as you readily expected, and it felt as though you were back at Slughorn’s Christmas party once more.

He nods, fingers tapping against his lip as the corner of his mouth quirked up into a grin. “Perhaps you’d like to join me?”

You had to stop yourself from letting your jaw drop, from allowing the snort that was ready to sound from falling past your lips. Had he always been so bold? You suppose so, you know so.

It hadn’t been terribly hard to stifle your shocked and utterly amused laughter when a newfound distraction arises mere moments later, the clatter of a book or two falling to the floor well heard across the entirety of the space. You frowned at the sound of it, unaware that it wasn’t just some other customer who hadn’t abided by shop hours that’d done it, rather a certain platinum blonde had been responsible for it instead. You were most entirely unaware of the way he’d been plucking miscellaneous books from their shelves and shoving them back into their spots in a pitiful attempt to busy himself all while jealousy brewed deeply within him. Not to mention the way he’d been staring daggers into the quidditch player’s back all the same. He’d gone ahead and dropped the very books in his hand upon hearing the brazen question, his eyes falling closed as his jaw tenses.

He promised you to not get so terribly jealous as he once had as a teen, as he once had most notably with the very same wizard who’d been fawning over you in that very moment. While he was far different from the boy who’d once put harmless jinxes and hexes just to be insufferable, he was strongly considering setting his maturity aside for just this once. With the way he’d been looking at you, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. But, instead he settles for dragging the tip of his finger along the spines of the books before him as if he was interested in their titles, trailing absentmindedly as his cheeks still burned from his clumsy blunder.

That brief moment for distraction and distance from the ridiculous offer put forth to you was rapidly coming to an end, his attention focused on you once more. You sprayed a bit too much cleaner on the already well polished countertop, wiping it down vigorously as you felt his gaze on you. You were starting to wonder just how you ever escaped conversation with him in the past.

“I’m afraid I have to decline your offer,” you say, tossing the paper towel in the trash as you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling as you thought to the love of your life. The one you so desperately wanted to return home to in that very moment, as you had longed to the whole day. The very man who’d been brooding grumpily just behind the mahogany bookshelves mere paces from you.

Cormac frowns only slightly as his head tilts to the left, his gaze holding yours. “Might I at least ask you to dinner then?”

That was it. That had been the absolute last straw. He hadn’t planned on making his presence known just yet, wanted to hear him make an absolute fool of himself if only for a few moments longer. But he knows there’s absolutely no way he could refrain from chiming in. No, not after that.

You open your mouth to speak, to answer his question despite being at a loss for words—though someone else beats you to it.

“Did you not hear? Shop is closed.” The voice is ever so familiar, holding a certain bite to it that one just couldn’t miss even from a mile away. You could hardly withhold your smile as Draco hopped up on the scuffed wooden counter, his brow raised tauntingly before he turned to look at you. “Right, love?”

You nod, meeting his gaze with a soft smile you tried to keep from growing. The look on his face was nothing short of adoring, but the fond expression held solely for you quickly hardens as it returns to the man in question. He straightens his posture and stands tall in Draco’s presence, the smirk on his lips since dissolving in favor of a tense jaw. He played with the ring on his finger, twirling it round and round as he crossed his ankles nonchalantly and fixed his stare on him rather than uttering the spell that sat so temptingly on his lips.

“Malfoy,” he greets coldly, a short nod to follow as he huffs through his nose.

“McLaggen,” Draco starts, sliding his book across the counter hastily. “I believe this is yours. Is it not?”

He huffs out a humorless laugh as he nods, swiping the book from beneath Draco’s fingertips. He holds his stare for a few fleeting moments, the corner of Draco’s mouth quirking up as he watches him sulk to the door and leave with a not so subtle thud. It was a brief interchange, however, one that spoke volumes of his displeasure and filled the small shop with a tension too thick to ignore.

You exhale a sigh then, brow raised quizzically as you cross your arms and try your hardest to be displeased with his behavior. Granted, he hadn’t turned his hair a rich shade of purple or muted him for the next week with a simple incantation, but you weren’t blind to the way his cheeks flushed pink. Nor did you miss the way his knuckles turned ivory, no matter how brief it may have been.

“Just what are you doing here?” You ask as he swivels in his spot, dipping down to kiss you sweetly.

“Can I not walk you home?” He asks in faux offense, the words pressed into your lips before he kisses you once more. Your smile quickly betrays you at the brush of his lips on yours, more so when they travel upwards to kiss the tip of your nose.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here from St. Mungo’s, you know. I could have apparated, love,” you sigh, your smile still lingering on your lips.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He asks, hopping down from the counter completely. His hands settle on your wrists, uncrossing your arms gingerly before sliding down to envelop your hands. “Besides,” he starts, his lips pressing to your cheek, “that was rather entertaining.”

You roll your eyes immediately, ready to pull your hands from his grasp until he tugged you closer with a laugh. You looked up at him with a beaming smile, one that held a certain mischief he was all too familiar with as you tilted your head. “Not nearly as entertaining as your clumsiness, especially not as much as the blush on your cheeks.”

He quiets the very factual statements falling from your lips with his own, the giggle of yours that sounded against his lips enough to make his blush deepen a shade. You were the only one in history to make his cheeks burn and flush like a fool, the only one in the world to make his heart flutter and pull a genuine smile from him. He supposes, he knows, that it’s always been you. Even when he didn’t realize it, even when he was far too unaware of true love for his own good.

He releases your hands in favor of enveloping you in his arms, your own wrapping around his neck. Any bit of jealousy, no matter how trivial and insignificant it may have been had since dissolved as he lifted you off your feet and spun you. The sheer adoration beaming bright on his face went unseen in the close proximity, your laughter filling the empty shop as his lips trailed from your cheek to the corner of your jaw. His breath was warm and broken against your skin as he laughed softly against it, the mere feeling sending a shiver to run through you.

His hair dipped over his forehead when he found it in him to pull from you, the platinum nearly mingling with his lashes. The look in his eyes, the way they sparkled pale blue and loving was a look far different than the one given to you more than a few moments prior. It just might’ve spoken his feelings more intensely than speaking those very three words aloud to you, it’s loving intensity something he never believed he’d be capable of holding for something, to be capable of having. Yet he’s got it all the same.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know,” you say, smile bright as you run your thumb over his kiss swollen lip and to the pale scarlet dusting his cheeks.

“I don’t believe I ever said I was jealous, darling,” he defends, your smile widening as you reluctantly slip from his arms to retrieve your coat from its hook on the wall. He’d missed the feeling of you so close already, his hand only having just now fallen back to his side only briefly as he watches after you in awe.

“Didn’t have to,” you quip lightheartedly, returning to him to lean on your tiptoes and kiss him sweetly. “You’re terribly obvious, Malfoy.”

He didn’t find it in him to form any sort of witty remark to say, he couldn’t, not with the way your kisses left him breathless and more lovestruck with each passing second. He barely even notices when you grab his hand, switching off each and every lamp in the shop with a simple flick of your finger before tugging him out the door. When the lock clicks behind you, you set off down the cracked sidewalk, the sun dipping deeper in the sky.

“Love?” He asks, hand squeezing yours as he keeps you close.

“Yeah?”

“Since when does he read Shakespeare anyway?” He frowns, brows furrowed to accompany his grumbling as he looks ahead.

You only laugh and lean up to press a kiss on his cheek, the near tumble you almost took from your distraction far too worth it to be embarrassed. Not to mention the smile on his lips. In that moment, you were right where you wanted to be. Hand in hand with the true love of your life as you walk back to your very own home. That was all you needed.

“I love you,” you murmur, “more than anything.”

He huffs out a soft laugh, his heart fluttering. “I love you, more than everything.”

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @dracosathenaeum @snitches-at-dawn @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @lunalovecroft @writeroutoftime @lilypad-55449

[wreckofawriter]

Magnolia Final Part

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of blood and death

Summary: idk dude just read the other chapters first or this is gonna make no sense

A/n: I did this instead of studying for my finals, also it could probably use a neither round of editing but I was anxious to post it. And I really don't give a fuck if this is historically inacurate all research done for this was from Pirate of the Caribbean.

Part 1 Part 2

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

You considered the stars your friends, their predictability and reserve made them easy to get along with. You had been taught to read their language from your early days of ships and oceans. As a child, you would speak to them, whispering secrets from your bedroom window. Your young nights had been filled with time spent stretching from the top of your magnolia tree to try and grasp their beauty. Even now as you stared up at the heavens you wished to cradle them like priceless jewels, their wonder never faded. But you supposed their mystery is what made them so appealing, everyone wanted something they could never quite reach.

The news of your captured prince had spread like fire in a dry wind, the letters you had sent to Aldir and their neighboring kingdoms throwing many into action. Sirius’s kingdom was large, powerful, and merciless. Some wanted the prince for leverage, many others wanted blood; revenge driving them to empty treasuries and sharpen swords. At first, you had been sitting pretty, letters of bids coming to you at every stop you made. Eventually, prices got too high and kingdoms decided it would be easier to take than to pay.

Ash burned in the back of your throat, you stared at your feet as the second ship that week crumbled into the ocean. Its flames were heavy on your back, reflecting in the greys of the sea. A particularly large crack of the fire made the breath catch in your throat. Your fear of the element had persisted for years filling your nightmares with smoke and screams. 

As the distance between you and the defeated ship lengthened your heart began to calm. The air was thick with moisture, purple clouds bruising the dull sky. The ocean was frothy, waves lapping tirelessly at the sides of your ship.

Your mind felt dizzy, the taste of blood still thick in your mouth. Two more men had been lost in the fight which had taken place just minutes ago. One flung into the ocean and the other struck by a bullet. That was six bodies that you had been forced to dump into the sea the past month. 

You had to get rid of Sirius before more corpses were to be fed to the sharks. This had never been so strikingly obvious before yet, you hesitated. Nails dug into your palms, the voices in your head fighting a clamoring war. Your feelings were illegible, their messy colors smeared together in an uninterpretable painting. So you threw them away, ignoring the throb in your chest and taking a breath. Sirius was to be sold to the highest bidder and that was that. You felt your past’s grip on your throat loosening. There was only one way to get rid of what used to be, you had to kill it. 

   

Sirius had never been so bewildered before. His life had been a book that was written a thousand times over. The prince falls in love, the queen doesn’t approve, the love runs off, the prince finds the love, and then happily ever after. But life wasn’t as sweet nor simple as a children’s story and this may be the first time that he had ever truly realized that. All it took was the prince to be tied in the love’s basement ready to be sold to his death. 

Sirius woke with a start as metal clattered inches from his face. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as his breath slowly returned to his lungs. He stared at the plate which had woken him, it was piled higher than normal with two rolls dropped next to it. He peered up at the giver of this gift.

He recognized the small blonde as the one he had threatened a few weeks before, the fear he had seen in her eyes that moment now replaced with pity, bitter and soft like rotten fruit. 

“I wanna talk.” She said plainly, toeing the plate towards him like a bribe, he supposed that’s exactly what it was. 

Sirius sat up ignoring the hammer of his head. His hair stuck to his cheek, slick with sweat. The woman whose name he never learned dropped to a squat beside him, a small knife held in her hand. His eyes widened as it glinted in the small gas lamp hanging above his head. 

“Relax.” She sighed cutting the rope that tethered his hands behind his back. 

Sirius felt his shoulders groan in protest as they fell forward, his wrists aching and rubbed red. Hot pin pricks filled his fingers as he clenched and unclenched his fists. 

When he looked back up Adrie was now seated in front of him, her legs crossed. She glanced down at the food and then back up at him, “You can eat if you agree to answer some questions.” Her demands were simple. 

He let silence settle for just a moment, “Fine.” After all, what did he have to lose? His dignity? His pride? They had been sleeping with the fishes for ages. 

She pushed the plate towards him, watching him quietly as he began to eat, “You don’t look like much of a prince to me.” She hummed after a moment.

Sirius swallowed, licking his lips, “Does anyone after two weeks locked in the bottom of a ship full of scum?"

Adrie cracked a smile, “I suppose not.” 

She stared at him still, she was lying a bit. Years held prisoner couldn’t erase the royalty he was raised with, it stuck to him like wet stuck to water. Nothing and everything proved him a prince, you could take his crown but you could never take his title.

“How do you know y/n?”

Sirius was startled by the suddenness of the question but not remotely surprised it was asked, “She hasn’t told you?” 

“I wouldn’t be asking if she had,” Adire responded, her tone was blunt. 

He bit into a roll thoughtfully taking his time to chew slowly, she was patient, her blank expression, not faltering.

“I thought you were friends.” He mumbled with a full mouth. 

Her jaw tightened, “Y/n doesn’t speak of her past.”

“So you’ve come to me for information?” Sirius said mild mockery in his voice.

“Obviously.”

He eyed the woman curiously, she was not what he had expected of your right hand man. Sirius smiled loosely, “You sure you wanna disobey Captain’s orders?” 

“Start talking or I take the food and hang you by your ankles.” 

Sirius huffed glancing between her and his food, “Fine, you win.” 

“Good. Tell me everything.” She demanded.

Sirius felt his throat tighten around the potatoes he had swallowed, his mind ached with hazy memories of summer days and speeding hearts, “There isn’t much to tell.” 

“You’re a bad lair.” Adire hummed. 

Sirius sighed, eyes falling to the bright white scars which laced his hands. He wasn’t sure where else to start but the beginning. He told of a loud baker girl who snuck over the walls into his garden and brought him pastries and friendship. He continued with vague details, of growing up together with swords and stars, reliving each moment he shared. 

He felt his words stiffen as he spoke of falling in love with you. Part of him felt like he was talking of someone completely different. Someone who had burnt up with her parents in a small bakery a million miles away. What was left, muffling cries above him, was a shell of that girl her soul replaced with seaweed and smoke. He pushed the thought away, swallowing it with the lump in his throat as he continued to speak of a proposal he regretted and the consequences of disobeying his mother. 

The broken fairytale cut his tongue filling his mouth with a bitter taste. He attempted to wash it down with the rum his listener had brought to him but its flavor was just as bad, it's only redemption was the warmth that filled his stomach.

Adrie looked at him blankly, "I don't blame her for wanting you dead." 

Sirius wished she had stayed silent. 

"But I pity you, you don't deserve death." 

He didn't look up and instead finished his drink, "Your pity means nothing to me." 

She sighed standing to her feet, "I never thought it did." 

When her boots disappeared up the ladder he let his cup drop to the ground, it rolled knocking into his heel as tears dripped from his chin.

By the time you had dropped anchor just off of Haran, the moisture had dropped from the air. Dry winds and clear skies greeted your crew. 

Rowboats were dropped in the water quickly, the sun was setting fast and a night of cheap ale and cheaper women were in the forefront of many a man's heads. 

You were tired, the happiness of your crewmates falling short at your feet. Exhaustion had replaced all anger and sadness you had harbored for the past weeks making your eyes grow dull as the bags beneath them. The satchel burned under your arms had a note you had written agreeing to the Yerith King’s price. You had singed your finger on the wax used to seal the envelope, it still throbbed a bit with the unsteady beat of your heart. You tried not to think about much on your way to land instead filling your head with that faint burn and fog of the setting sun. 

Adrie watched as you played with the diamond strung around your neck, a new piece she had only seen in recent days. She assumed you had taken it from one of the ships which had recently burnt into the sea. The bright stone was so different from the rest of your jewelry she was surprised you wore it all. Obnoxious gems had never been your type.

She was wrong on this thought, large jewels used to be what you would stare at as you passed shop windows, wishing you had the money to clutch one in your hand. They used to be a dream and a wish, now they were just things you stole and sold to the highest bidder.

Sirius had been briefly told of the plans for the evening. Two men whom he had become somewhat accustomed to during his stay had tied him up. The knots were tighter than usual as they were to be gone for the night. In his usual nature, Sirius complained about the ache of his wrists and the cramps in his legs. His grievances went unheard and his company disappeared from sight. The boat was quiet within the hour, nothing but the creak of old boards and calls of gulls far above his head breaking the silence. 

He drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours, time passing in its usual way, slowly. Finally, a clear thought came to Sirius’s head, he had the whole boat to himself. That meant there was no one to stop him from escaping his certain and quickly approaching death. 

Sirius tried to twist his hands out of the rope for what must have been an hour and only resulted in drawing blood from his wrists. Switching tactics he began to slowly shuffle and roll around the cabin he was in, searching for anything that could cut rope. As the sun’s light began to fade his task was growing difficult. Just before he gave in to his exhaustion Sirius found a bent nail sticking about a centimeter out of the ladder that led to the upper deck. The next two hours were spent rubbing his binds against the dull metal until they finally snapped. 

    After a month of being held prisoner, freedom left him stunned. He stumbled up the ladder until he reached the ship’s deck. The warm breeze which washed over him felt like a gift from the gods. A smile stretched his aching cheeks and for the first time in a while Sirius Black let out a genuine laugh. 

He quickly found a small boat which he could lower to the water. He could be miles away before the sun rose and you found his binds cut. Judging by the port you had stopped at he was only a few days' row from neutral lands. There he could gather himself and write for help. He was saved.

Sirius’s glee was cut short as he realized that he was missing one vital thing; you. The only reason he was out here in the first place was for you. He had spent years following rumors across the sea, he had given up his place as king, he had spent hundreds of thousands on supplies. But the truth was even if he hadn’t done all that, even if he had stumbled across you within a week and spent no more than ten doubloons he still wouldn’t leave this ship alive unless you were by his side. 

Sirius cursed, slamming his fist into the deck. His eyes darted around in what felt like panic. He was trapped between your love and his life and while he had chosen the former weeks ago he had no way of securing it. 

In the dark, a glint of light was seen. A crate of liquor stowed next to the captain’s quarters revealed itself to the pale moon. The man's mind buzzed, he realized quickly that he would need to act fast, the hours of the dark he had left must be well used. 

The deal had been easy, one glance at the large gem and you had a buyer offering hundreds. You walked away with 400 doubloons knowing it was worth much more. Not that you cared, you had been hours from chucking the necklace into the sea. 

It was late at night now, the golden light of pubs and brothels spilling onto the gravel road you walked. Your legs still felt weak, they were accustomed to the sway of boats on sloshing waves not the strange sturdiness of the ground. You hadn’t been able to sleep well on land since you had stepped off it, you had always opted for a swinging hammock over a still cot. 

You swung your bag of coins round in circles as you made your way to the beach. The water was smooth save the ripple of waves drawn by the full moon. Sand glistened silver under your boots, the light crash of water on rocks echoing around you. 

You had never intended to spend the full night on land, your crew was well aware of this fact and none would be surprised to find you gone in the morning. You shoved one of your beached row boats back into the water, splashing about ankle deep before leaping into it. 

When you reached your ship, you sensed something was wrong immediately. The small voice which you tended to ignore was screaming in the back of your head. As you climbed onto the deck the strong scent of liquor overwhelmed you. You heard a soft splash and glanced down to look at the puddle you had stepped into. Swiping two fingers through the fluid and plopping them into your mouth you hummed. There was no mistaking the sharp taste of gin. You looked around to find the leak and instead locked eyes with a figure who stood about 20 meters in front of you. 

“Sirius?” You asked though you already knew it was him, you didn’t think you would ever forget his face, even if it was obscured by the shadows of the moon. 

He gapped at you, unsure of what to say.

You took a step closer and caught a glance of the bottle he held in his hand. Its thin neck was stuffed with a piece of cloth, the soft glow of a gas lamp flickering behind him. The second you realized what he had planned your gun was pointed at his chest.

“Drop the bottle Black.” you hissed with a steady voice despite the fact that your gun was rattling in your hands. Your thoughts were now fogged with fear, plagued by smoke and flames.

Sirius had suddenly found his voice, “I know you’re not stupid enough to fire that. One spark and we’ll both go up in flames.”

Your breaths quickened, vision blurring as tears welled in your eyes. “Why are you doing this?” You croaked. “Why do you want to ruin everything I’ve built for myself?”

“I’m not leaving without you y/n.” He shouted, “I can’t live without you. Just come with me. Please. Just come with me and it will all be fine.” 

You shook your head, “No.”

“Please, please! I need you y/n, I can’t go back without you!” He begged, snatching the lamp from behind him, “I won’t be able to live.”

It was in that moment that you understood he was just as desperate as you, just as lost and hopeless. You dropped your gun to your side, tears sliding slowly down your cheeks. Your throat tightened holding back a sob, “Okay.” You said with a broken voice.

Sirius cracked a small smile, “I knew it.” He sighed, “I knew you still loved me.” Setting down the lamp he opened his arms walking towards you. You met him halfway burying your face into his rough jacket.

“God I missed you y/n,” he whispered as you slipped a knife from under your sleeve.

“I’m so sorry Siri.” You mumbled in response before plunging the blade into his back. 

You held him as he collapsed forward, choking back on his own blood. You had begun to sob, hand still clutching the hilt of the blade which was lodged into him. Eventually his weight became too much to bear and you both fell to the ground. Sirius rolled off next to you, his hand still clasped around your own. The two of you started up at the stars listening as his breaths slowed. Just before they stopped completely you felt a small squeeze of your hand and for just a moment you saw the soft pink of a petal floating towards you.

You weren't sure how long you lay there, staring up at the sky but it was long enough for you to finally realize that you were the villain of your story. It was an odd thing to recognize considering in all of the books you had carried as a child you took the place of the protagonist; the one who swung the sword to save the kingdom You had always been the one to end your life with a happily ever after. 

Now you had realized that you had never been a hero. You had spent your life as a villain in the making, each step you had taken leading you closer and closer to your undeniable fate of evil. You had your chance to be the princess trapped in the tower, but you had ignored the prince and now took the shape of a witch. A witch who stole and killed and burned all that she hated. Some had to do it after all, we can’t all be heroes. There is no story without a villain, at least not one worth reading.

As much as the small baker girl who rested amongst the magnolia tree would have hated you, the woman you saw when you looked in the mirror was okay with who you had become. And if she was okay with it, then why did it matter what the past would have thought? You had been running from it for years and now you would never have to again. Because now your past ran from you. 

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Masterlist

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hiiii, so I decided to continue my combing through the books for random specific Everlark related content series. This one is Katniss and Peeta taking care of each other. This is Part One and only includes stuff from the first book because it was getting too long. 😭😅. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy.

-

I gently unzip his jacket, unbutton his shirt and ease them off him. His undershirt is so plastered into his wounds I have to cut it away with my knife and drench him again to work it loose. He’s badly bruised with a long burn across his chest and four tracker jacker stings, if you count the one under his ear. But I feel a bit better. This much I can fix. I decide to take care of his upper body first, to alleviate some pain, before I tackle whatever damage Cato did to his leg.

-

Since treating his wounds seems pointless when he’s lying in what’s become a mud puddle, I manage to prop him up against a boulder. He sits there, uncomplaining, while I wash away all the traces of dirt from his hair and skin. His flesh is very pale in the sunlight and he no longer looks strong and stocky. I have to dig the stingers out of his tracker jacker lumps, which causes him to wince, but the minute I apply the leaves he sighs in relief. While he dries in the sun, I wash his filthy shirt and jacket and spread them over boulders. Then I apply the burn cream to his chest. This is when I notice how hot his skin is becoming. The layer of mud and the bottles of water have disguised the fact that he’s burning with fever. I dig through the first-aid kit I got from the boy from District 1 and find pills that reduce your temperature.

“Swallow these,” I tell him, and he obediently takes the medicine. “You must be hungry.”

“Not really. It’s funny, I haven’t been hungry for days,” says Peeta. In fact, when I offer him groosling, he wrinkles his nose at it and turns away. That’s when I know how sick he is.

“Peeta, we need to get some food in you,” I insist.

“It’ll just come right back up,” he says. The best I can do is to get him to eat a few bits of dried apple. “Thanks. I’m much better, really. Can I sleep now, Katniss?” he asks.

“Soon,” I promise. “I need to look at your leg first.” Trying to be as gentle as I can, I remove his boots, his socks, and then very slowly inch his pants off of him.

-

I scoot my square of plastic under him so I can wash down the rest of him. With each bottle I pour over him, the worse the wound looks. The rest of his lower body has fared pretty well, just one tracker jacker sting and a few small burns that I treat quickly. But the gash on his leg . . . what on earth can I do for that?

-

I know the tracker jacker leaves draw out infection, so I start with those. Within minutes of pressing the handful of chewed-up green stuff into the wound, pus begins running down the side of his leg.

-

“What next, Dr. Everdeen?” he asks.

“Maybe I’ll put some of the burn ointment on it. I think it helps with infection anyway. And wrap it up?” I say. I do and the whole thing seems a lot more manageable, covered in clean white cotton.

-

I help him dress, leaving his feet bare so we can walk in the water, and pull him upright. His face drains of color the moment he puts weight on his leg. “Come on. You can do this.”

But he can’t. Not for long anyway. We make it about fifty yards downstream, with him propped up by my shoulder, and I can tell he’s going to black out. I sit him on the bank, push his head between his knees, and pat his back awkwardly as I survey the area.

-

When Peeta’s able to stand, I half-guide, half-carry him up to the cave. Really, I’d like to look around for a better place, but this one will have to do because my ally is shot. Paper white, panting, and, even though it’s only just cooling off, he’s shivering.

I cover the floor of the cave with a layer of pine needles, unroll my sleeping bag, and tuck him into it. I get a couple of pills and some water into him when he’s not noticing, but he refuses to eat even the fruit. Then he just lies there, his eyes trained on my face as I build a sort of blind out of vines to conceal the mouth of the cave.

-

I check his forehead and find it burning and dry. I don’t know what to do. Leave him in the bag and hope the excessive heat breaks the fever? Take him out and hope the night air cools him off? I end up just dampening a strip of bandage and placing it on his forehead.

-

I spend the night half-sitting, half-lying next to Peeta, refreshing the bandage.

-

Peeta sits beside me, leaning against the wall, his bad leg stretched out before him, his eyes trained on the world outside. “Go to sleep,” he says softly. His hand brushes the loose strands of my hair off my forehead. Unlike the staged kisses and caresses so far, this gesture seems natural and comforting. I don’t want him to stop and he doesn’t. He’s still stroking my hair when I fall asleep.

-

I give him more fever pills and stand over him while he drinks first one, then a second quart of water. Then I tend to his minor wounds, the burns, the stings, which are showing improvement.

-

Peeta’s stretched out on top of the sleeping bag in the shade of the rocks. Although he brightens a bit when I come in, it’s clear he feels miserable. I put cool cloths on his head, but they warm up almost as soon as they touch his skin.

-

I sit back on my heels and look at him with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction. A stray berry stains his chin and I wipe it away. “Who can’t lie, Peeta?” I say, even though he can’t hear me.

-

I gingerly lift my hand to my head and find it bandaged. This simple gesture leaves me weak and dizzy. Peeta holds a bottle to my lips and I drink thirstily.

-

He doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness.

-

“You need to eat. I’ll go hunting soon,” I say.

“Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.”

-

Peeta feeds me bites of groosling and raisins and makes me drink plenty of water. He rubs some warmth back into my feet and wraps them in his jacket before tucking the sleeping bag back up around my chin.

-

Rain drips through several holes in the ceiling, but Peeta has built a sort of canopy over my head and upper body by wedging the square of plastic into the rocks above me.

-

“I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it’s bedtime anyway,” he says.

My socks are dry enough to wear now. I make Peeta put his jacket back on. The damp cold seems to cut right down to my bones, so he must be half frozen. I insist on taking the first watch, too, although neither of us think it’s likely anyone will come in this weather. But he won’t agree unless I’m in the bag, too, and I’m shivering so hard that it’s pointless to object. In stark contrast to two nights ago, when I felt Peeta was a million miles away, I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe.

-

I set a good dinner out, but halfway through Peeta begins to nod off. After days of inactivity, the hunt has taken its toll. I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so grateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought.

-

Although I’m shaking in the biting wind, I rip off my jacket, remove my shirt, and zip back into the jacket as swiftly as possible. That brief exposure sets my teeth chattering beyond control.

Peeta’s face is gray in the pale moonlight. I make him lie down before I probe his wound. Warm, slippery blood runs over my fingers. A bandage will not be enough. I’ve seen my mother tie a tourniquet a handful of times and try to replicate it. I cut free a sleeve from my shirt, wrap it twice around his leg just under his knee, and tie a half knot. I don’t have a stick, so I take my remaining arrow and insert it in the knot, twisting it as tightly as I dare. It’s risky business — Peeta may end up losing his leg — but when I weigh this against him losing his life, what alternative do I have? I bandage the wound in the rest of my shirt and lie down with him.

-

“Are you cold?” he asks. He unzips his jacket and I press against him as he fastens it around me. It’s a bit warmer, sharing our body heat inside my double layer of jackets, but the night is young. The temperature will continue to drop. Even now I can feel the Cornucopia, which burned so when I first climbed it, slowly turning to ice.

“Cato may win this thing yet,” I whisper to Peeta.

“Don’t you believe it,” he says, pulling up my hood, but he’s shaking harder than I am.

-

Somehow, we make it back to the lake. I scoop up a handful of the cold water for Peeta and bring a second to my lips.

-

The hovercraft materializes overhead and two ladders drop, only there’s no way I’m letting go of Peeta. I keep one arm around him as I help him up, and we each place a foot on the first rung of the ladder.

-

“It’s my fault,” I say. “Because I used that tourniquet.”

“Yes, it’s your fault I’m alive,” says Peeta.

“He’s right,” says Caesar. “He’d have bled to death for sure without it.”

I guess this is true, but I can’t help feeling upset about it to the extent that I’m afraid I might cry and then I remember everyone in the country is watching me so I just bury my face in Peeta’s shirt. It takes them a couple of minutes to coax me back out because it’s better in the shirt, where no one can see me, and when I do come out, Caesar backs off questioning me so I can recover.

-

[ladykissingfish]

On A Cruise with the Akatsuki

Done at the request of @deaththesyd ((I hope I’m spelling that right)) thank you for such a unique ask! This was fun to write😊

All work and no play makes a bunch of killers very dull, indeed. A vacation is absolutely necessary sometimes, and Pein comes up with the brilliant (?) idea of sending them all on a relaxing cruise.

Konan

When Konan hears that there’s a full spa on the cruise, that’s it, she’s sold. She heads out of her cabin early in the morning and spends an entire day basking in much-needed luxury and relaxations. While she chooses to indulge in any and everything, some other members of the Akatsuki choose to drop in and join her for certain elements. For example, Deidara shows up for the face masks (he’s surprisingly fastidious about his skin and almost spends more time on his face than Konan does hers). Itachi comes to join her when it’s time for massages, becoming so calm and relaxed that he falls asleep mid-sentence (and Konan admonishes the workers to be as gentle and quiet as possible, because, obviously, the kid could use the rest). Hidan surprises her most of all when he pops up in time for the manicure and pedicure portion of the treatment, but he makes it a point to say over and over that “I’m not a wimp or nothing; I just like clean nails.” At the end of the day, after being pampered and preened and made even prettier, she finds Sasori sitting on the deck, and joins him to watch the sunset and see the first stars appear in the night sky.

Deidara

Deidara has a mind that goes a mile a minute, and finds it immensely difficult to stick with doing one thing. Therefore, he’ll try to fill his days on a cruise doing everything that there is to go. An on-board pool? He’s the first one doing a flip off the diving board. A mini casino? He’s “borrowing” money from Kakuzu and playing until he goes bust. The thing that appeals most to him, however, are the complimentary breakfast, lunch, and dinner buffets. He, along with Hidan, will strike fear into the hearts of all the other passengers, as they load plates higher than the ceiling and scarf down more than seems physically possible. Because Deidara spends so much time eating and indulging in various merriments, towards the end of the day he’s more than likely to sit down in a deck chair to “rest a second” — and end up sleeping there until Sasori comes to look for him and make him go lay down properly in his cabin. Then the next day, Deidara will be the first one up, and his antics will repeat themselves.

Kakuzu

Kakuzu is very much against the idea of the Akatsuki going on a cruise, because you know, money; but Pein offers to pay to send everyone out of his own pocket ... and Kakuzu isn’t one to turn down anything free. Once on board, he really doesn’t intend to do anything other than nap in his cabin ... but that’s before he hears about the on-board casino. A hidden (but profitable) talent of Kakuzu’s is the ability to count cards, making him a veritable nightmare to the dealers working at the blackjack table. But he’s smart; he knows that if he wins too many hands the proprietors will become suspicious and likely kick him out. So he wins just enough to make it worth being out of bed. Other than the relaxation and the gambling, the others can convince him to join them when they eat at the ships buffets or small restaurants, although, as he does on land, he’ll always go for the cheapest thing on the menu. Shockingly, a cruise is one of the few places in the world that he can really get along with Hidan; something about being on the sea brings out more of the calm and quiet side of the Jashinist. The two will spend some time sitting in the deck chairs and having avid, whimsical conversations about life, likely enjoying a glass of wine or two as they do so.

Zetsu

Zetsu goes with at the behest of the others, but doesn’t really want to be there. An endless body of water? Over-bearing sunshine? Happy people? No, thanks. He’ll likely stay in his cabin and sleep ... during the day, that is. Nighttime is a different story. He’ll use his powers of infiltration and camouflage to find his way into passengers rooms, and have himself a midnight snack or two (or six, but who’s counting?). When he’s done with the bodies, if there’s anything left he’ll toss them into the ocean. It’s one thing if a passenger goes missing, but another if they’re found dead. He’ll clean the cabins out too, getting rid of the blood and evidence, so as to lessen the alarm raised when others notice the dead’s absence. He also likes to spend a bit of time with Obito and play cards in one or the other’s cabin.

Tobi (Obito)

Unfortunately (or, in another light, hilariously) Obito gets horribly, horribly seasick. The rocking motion of a ship, or even seeing the water move around outside the ship, has the guy running to his cabin’s bathroom (or if he’s outside of his room, the deck) and puking his guts out. He didn’t really want to come in the first place, but the others insisted and besides, Obito likes to spend time outside of typical Akatsuki businesss with them. Deidara, in a surprising show of kindness, will visit Tobi’s room with seasick medicine he buys at the on-board store, and this will help Tobi to at least get vertical without feeling like he’s dying. After he’s feeling better he sticks to low-impact activities so as not to trigger a relapse, and will likely spend more time with Konan at the spa than anywhere else. He’ll also join Kakuzu for a bit at the casino; like the old man, Obito has a knack for gambling and predicting good odds. Poker is his specialty; the mask he wears makes reading his face impossible to his fellow players, and his goofy demeanor pulls others into thinking they can take this guy … and lose their shirts in the process.

Hidan

Ah; the sea. Being out in the open waters, feeling the sun on his face and the most of water, brings out a side of Hidan that nobody’s ever seen before. He’s calm, he’s quiet, he’s downright friendly. Kakuzu comments that maybe he was a seaman in another life … although “pirate” seems a bit more accurate for him. No matter where Hidan is, however, his competitive spirit never dies. There’s several exercise and game rooms on board that offers table tennis, volleyball, golf, basketball, and a variety of other things, which Hidan takes part of. There’s even a small rock-climbing wall that he challenges Deidara and Itachi to, which he (gleefully) beats them at. When not playing games he also loves to eat, and will join Deidara at the ship’s buffets to stuff himself silly. Normally, as a follower of the way of Jashin, Hidan doesn’t drink. However being at sea seems to be cause for bending the rules, and Hidan will enjoy a stiff cocktail or six while relaxing in his cabin.

Itachi

Whereas the rocking motion of the ship makes Obito feel sick to his stomach, it effects the other Uchiha in another way entirely; it relaxes him. Getting someone who’s as stressed as Itachi to relax is no small feat, but a cruise is one of the rare things that can do this. The first few days on the cruise will likely see the young brunette sleeping as much as possible. He’ll put up the Do Not Disturb sign on his door and nap away his worries. Around the third or fourth day, he’ll wake up feeling wonderfully reinvigorated, and actually have the energy to join the others in their activities. He’ll share a meal with Hidan, he’ll wander into the spa that Konan’s practically made her home and indulge in massages and facials. He’ll even take up Kisame’s offer to participate in the ship-offered scuba diving lessons (although Kisame has been teaching Itachi how to dive for years and neither really has the need for professional training, they find it fun to be around the others who are just learning). Deidara even seeks him out join him in the game room to compete against him (although he accuses him of cheating with his sharingan every time he wins). At night, he enjoys sitting on the top deck with Sasori, and the two have deep conversations about life and culture and art. Sasori doesn’t sleep so he can literally sit up with Itachi all evening until the stars disappear from the sky and the sun comes up over the waves.

Pein

Nagato makes the decision not to send his Pein-body on the cruise. Nagato, like Obito, gets very seasick, and this isn’t a sensation he wishes to experience through the Pein-body. He utilizes Pein’s time alone at the hideout, however, by gathering the other Pein’s together to practice sparring and different fighting techniques. They’ll get the house quite messy, and will have to work together to frantically clean before the others return.

Kisame

Kisame is in his element on a cruise. As could be expected, Kisame tends to stick solely to the activities on board that are based around the water. He’ll be one of the first ones in the ship’s pool when it opens, in fact going so far as to strip completely naked until somebody else comes in and ruins his fun. He participates in the deep sea fishing offered by professionals, although Kisame’s tips and tricks for catching fish far outshine those of the instructors. There’s even a chance for him to be heroic; one day a woman slips and falls over the railing and into the waters below. Everybody panics, but before anyone can make a move towards rescuing her, Kisame is diving into the water and pulling her to the surface as easily as one would pull a sack of feathers. He stays with her until she’s stabilized, and the woman thanks him by hugging him and kissing his cheek, which will have him blushing from head to toe. Besides his water activities, he also enjoys spending time with the others, in particular Itachi and Konan. One thing that these three do together (to the delight of Kisame) is play pranks on the others. They manage to get into Deidara’s room and steal all of his shirts, they sneak black hair dye into Hidan’s shampoo. One particular funny feat involved then going into Kakuzu’s room safe (Itachi was able to use his sharingan to see into the old guy’s mind to get the combination) and replace all of his money with IOU slips. It was funny … until Kakuzu burst into Hidan’s room at 3am and threatened to strangle him as “the most likely fucker who did this”. Kisame loves cruises and wishes the Akatsuki could afford to go on one every month.

Sasori

Another soul who really didn’t want to go on a cruise. He ends up going because (and only because) Deidara pestered him relentlessly until he gave in. Eating, games, swimming, gambling … none of these things hold any appeal for the puppet master. One day he’s walking along one of the lower deck and happens upon a group of ship staff taking a mandatory CPR/basic medical training class. Being somewhat of a medical expert himself, he goes in and offers his expertise, as well as some tips that not even the instructors thought of. Sasori also spends some time with Deidara, as the blonde was the one who made him go in the first place. They find an art class and it offers painting, a medium that neither are familiar with. The subject is a bottle of wine. The instructor is somewhat horrified when he finds that Sasori has painted the wine bottle being smashed into someone’s kneecap; and Deidara has painted it exploding and sending glass fragments into innocent bystanders. On one of their nights, Deidara falls asleep while the two are sitting in deck chairs under the stars, and Sasori manages to pick him up and carry him to his room. Sasori also likes spending time with Itachi; he never passes up an opportunity to get into Itachi’s head a little, as he thinks he has one of the most fascinating minds in the Akatsuki. Sasori comes to enjoy his time on the cruise, and will actually find himself a bit melancholy when it’s over and they return to land.

[drabbles-mc]

For The Weekend

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Request by @gemini0410: Could I ask for a song request? "Blank Space" by Taylor Swift with Angel Reyes pretty please? 😍🥰💜

Warnings: language, Angel being a softie and a flirt

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I just really liked the fun and flirty energy of this song and I thought that it went really well with Angel. Thank you so much for the request! Hope you enjoy xo

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce @encounterthepast @helli4nthus @angelreyesgirl @lilacyennefer @everyhowlmarksthedead @starrynite7114 @rosieposie0624 @queenbeered @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @sincerelyasomebody @mijop @sadeyesgf @xladymacbethx @thesandbeneathmytoes @blessedboo @appropriate-writers-name @holl2712 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @lakamaa12 @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @garbinge @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @luckyharley1903​

You leaned over the pool table to line up your shot, chuckling and shaking your head as Angel tried to get you to choke and miss. The two of you had been going back and forth all night, and the banter somehow led to you challenging him to a pool game. When he’d lost the first one, he changed it so that it was the best two out of three.

“And what do I get when I win, by the way?” you asked with a smirk as you sank another shot.

Angel shook his head, “Is my company not a good enough prize for you, querida?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, “I’ve already got that. Was looking for something a little extra.”

Excitement flashed across his face for a moment, but whatever comments he was thinking, he kept to himself for the time being. You bit lightly on your bottom lip before taking your next shot. You missed, but barely. Not according to Angel, who was gloating that he finally got you to choke.

“Alright, then let’s see what you can do, Mr. Reyes,” you said with a smirk.

He was intently lining up his shot when you casually perched yourself on the edge of the pool table. He caught a glimpse of the way that your shorts slid up a little higher on your leg, and it was just enough of a distraction to cost him his shot. His miss was much more obvious than yours, but you were kind enough to not call it out loud to the entire club. Instead, you walked over, standing dangerously close to him.

“Gotta stay focused, baby,” you said quietly with a laugh.

“You just here looking for trouble?” he cocked one eyebrow as a smirk crept over his face.

You shrugged, “It’s a bonus.”

You knew that Angel had a bit of a reputation. There were more than a few rumors floating around that you’d heard and you were willing to bet that most of them were true. You were more than willing to find out for yourself. You could also tell by the way that he was looking at you that he’d probably heard a thing or two about you as well. Part of you wondered how much he believed of what he’d heard. Something must’ve piqued his interest if he was willing to go back and forth with you all night like he had been.

You won your second game in a row, and Angel decided that he was going to take his loss on the chin and keep moving forward. You laughed, “What, don’t wanna see if you can get best three outta five?”

“I know when I’m beat,” he laughed, “I’ll even buy you a drink.”

“Oh, is that my prize?”

“Were you hoping for something else?” you could see the mischief in his eyes.

You dragged your teeth lightly along your bottom lip, “I had a couple ideas in mind.”

He stepped in close to you so that you were the only one who could hear what he was saying, “Don’t get in over your head, Y/N. That’s a dangerous mistake.”

You pulled away so you could look him in the eye, “A mistake that I’d be willing to make.”

“So what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Take me for a ride,” you saw the way his eyes widened and you laughed, giving him a playful slap on the arm, “On your bike.”

“Oh, right,” he smirked, “I think I could do that.”

“Right now?” you arched your eyebrow.

“It’s your prize,” he shrugged with a quiet laugh, “I’m at your mercy.”

One end of your mouth quirked up into a smirk, “Dangerous position to be in.”

You could see it in his body language that he was fighting the urge to reach out and touch you, “Maybe I like a little danger.”

You delicately traced your fingertips over the patches on the front of his kutte, “Then let’s go,” your hand dropped down and grabbed his, tugging him to follow you.

Angel trailed behind you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly the closer you got to the door of the clubhouse. You heard Coco and Gilly call after the two of you, but you ignored it, simply shaking your head as you bumped the clubhouse door open with your hip.

It was still warm out, considering how late it had gotten. The light from the clubhouse and the lone lamppost just outside the compound shined just enough for the two of you to be able to make your way across the lot to where the bikes were parked. You turned to face Angel, taking your strides backwards as you looked him up and down with a smile. He shook his head, trying not to let his smile be too apparent on his face.

“What’re you looking so happy about, huh?” Angel asked as he backed you up against his bike.

Your breath hitched in your throat for a moment but you tried not to let it show, “I got Angel Reyes to leave a party early. I’m just…a little proud of myself for that one.”

He smiled and shook his head before reaching forward and lightly running his thumb along your cheekbone, “You’re a hard girl to say no to.”

He leaned against you, his face incredibly close to yours. You felt your knees tremble slightly and for a moment you thought that he was going to lean in and kiss you. Before you could get swept away in those thoughts, the heat from his body being pressed against yours was gone as he leaned back, handing you the helmet he’d grabbed from the handlebar of his bike. The tiny smirk playing at his lips let you know that every move of his was intentional, trying to figure out the best way to get you worked up. You let out a shaky laugh as you held his helmet in your hands, realizing that beating him at pool might’ve been easy but the game you two were playing now, you were both experienced players.

“Suit up, querida,” he chuckled as he gently moved you so he could get onto his bike, “Don’t want you getting hurt on your victory lap.”

You laughed as you clipped the helmet on, tightening it slightly before hopping onto the bike behind him. You ran your hands down his sides and onto his thighs, feeling his body tense up as you did. His attempt to play it off didn’t fool you, and you giggled quietly to yourself as he took your hands and pulled your arms around his waist.

“Above the belt at all times when we’re on the bike,” his false serious tone was easy to see through.

“What about when we aren’t on the bike?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

You settled against his back as he started up the bike. He rolled out of the clubhouse lot, but once the tires hit the road, Angel took off like a bullet. You laughed as you pressed tighter to him, enjoying the adrenaline and the slight sense of fear that went through you as he took each curve with expert precision. Nothing else could be heard over the wind in your ears and the roar of Angel’s bike, and it was the most at-peace that you had felt in a long time.

It wasn’t until you were a few miles into the ride that you realized that you had never asked Angel where the two of you were going. You supposed that you didn’t really care, but you were curious. You’d left the familiar streets of Santo Padre behind and hit the highway, the road stretching on endlessly before you. The two of you seemed to be the only ones on the street, making Angel a little cocky as he weaved and sped up, earning some excited laughter from you. You felt him vibrating with laughter as you wrapped your arms tighter around him.

When he finally slowed back down to a reasonable speed, he took one hand off the handlebar and rested it on top of yours. Heat seeped from his hand into yours as he carefully entwined your fingers. He might’ve been showing off, but there was still something about it that felt sweet. He seemed so comfortable as the two of you cruised through the darkness, the sky lit up only by the stars and the full moon.

“You never asked where we’re going,” Angel spoke up for the first time since you’d left the clubhouse.

You laughed, “Didn’t think it mattered.”

He shook his head but didn’t make any other remark as he pulled off of an exit from the highway. You had no idea where he might be taking you, and with anyone else that might’ve been a scary thought, but not with him. Whatever the adventure was, you were all-in. Something about being with Angel made you stop giving a damn about the consequences—whatever happened, it would be worth it.

You could’ve spent the entire night riding around California with no real destination. He slowed down as he started to roll through the streets of a town that you hadn’t ever been to before. Wherever you were going, you knew he’d been there before. His route was deliberate and if anything, that made you more curious.

“Should I even bother asking?” you said with a laugh.

He shook his head, “Nope,” you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a few more minutes, the two of you landed yourself in the parking lot of a small diner. The sign said that it was open 24 hours a day, and it looked like one of those places that you wouldn’t think to stop into if you were just passing through. But if Angel was making a point to bring you here, you knew that there had to be more to the place that what met the eye.

“Awful long drive just to get to a diner,” you said with a laugh as you hopped off his bike.

He smiled at you, “A worthwhile one, though,” he draped his arm around your shoulders, “Best empanadas in California, hands-down.”

You smiled up at him, “Oh really? How’d you come to find that out?”

“We stopped in here one time on our way back from a run—one of the only places that’s open all night long. This little, old Dominican woman came out of the kitchen when a few of us rolled in here—didn’t even take our orders,” he laughed, “Just brought us out some food and we all fell in love a little bit.”

You chuckled, “Talk about good customer service.”

He laughed, “She doesn’t fuck around. I come here whenever I can’t sleep. She gives me food and refuses to give me any drinks with caffeine in them because they’ll keep me up even longer.”

He held open the door for you and you stepped inside, instantly feeling at home in the cozy little establishment. You scanned the seating area and besides you and Angel, there were only two other people there, and they didn’t even look up from their meals when you had walked in.

Angel guided you over to a table and pulled out a chair for you. The overly flirtatious trouble-maker from the clubhouse seemed to disappear once you rolled into the parking lot. You felt like you were getting a look at a completely different side of Angel.

Before he could sit down, a woman, you assumed she was the one that he had just been telling you about, walked over. She shook her head at him but you could see that there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Angel held out his arms, “Hermosa, I’ve missed you.”

She waved him off, “Sit down. You saw me two nights ago,” she smiled at him before looking at you, then back to him, “Not Ezekiel.”

He laughed, taking a seat across from you, “No, not Ezekiel. This is Y/N. I told her that you make the best empanadas in California.”

She turned and looked at you, clearly trying to figure out what she thought of you. You sat still, letting her decide how she felt about you. After a few moments of silence she nodded with a small smile, “He’s right. Best empanadas in California, at least. You’ll see.”

Angel didn’t oversell it. Despite the fact that it was past 2AM and you were in a diner you’d never been to, in a town that you had no idea what or where it was, you were having one of the best nights of your life. The food, the company, the feeling of being completely detached from everything else that was going on in your life—you didn’t want to go back.

“I think you’re dangerous for me, Angel Reyes,” you said with a small smile as you took a sip of your drink.

“And I thought I was the one in danger with you,” he smirked.

You laughed as you leaned forward, resting your arms on the edge of the table, “While we were riding, I repeatedly had the thought that I wouldn’t care if we just took off and didn’t go back. I was fully prepared to just go along for the ride.”

“You’d last a weekend, maybe,” he leaned forward, mimicking your position, “Before you’d wanna bail and go home.”

“If I didn’t know better, Angel, I’d say that that was a challenge.”

He smirked, “Your words, not mine.”

“Can’t believe you’re trying to bait me into running off with you,” you laughed with a shake of your head.

“You’re the one who wanted to go for a ride,” he smiled at you, “Can’t help if you fall in love with me in the process.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile on your face, “You sure think a lot of yourself, huh?”

He laughed but didn’t give you any other response to the question. The two of you sat there, each fighting the urge to reach across the table to take the other’s hands. It felt like a game of chicken, even though both of you desperately wanted to cave. Angel leaned in as he told you stories about late-night antics with the guys on their way back home after runs. You listened intently, finding yourself a little more enamored than necessary with the way his eyes lit up as he jumped from story to story, thriving off of having someone to talk with.

You’d hardly noticed the amount of time the two of you had spent sitting and talking at the table. You knew that it would be wise to hit the road and head home, and yet you didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. The little bubble the two of you were existing in for the time being was far more inviting than the real world.

“Think she does orders to-go?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Absolutely not,” she materialized seemingly out of nowhere to scoop up your plates, a kind smile on her face.

“I was just about to say that, you didn’t give me a chance,” Angel laughed as he dug out his wallet to pay the bill.

The two of you were making your way out the door and back towards Angel’s bike. His hand landed in the small of your back and you allowed him to pull you closer against his side. The short walk across the parking lot felt like it was so much longer as you reveled in every stride the two of you took together. His fingers slid underneath the thin fabric of your shirt and you chose not to comment on it, enjoying the contact more than you maybe should have.

When you reached the bike, Angel stood in front of you, looking down into your eyes to try and figure out what the next move was going to be. His hands were resting lightly on your hips and something told you that he didn’t want the night to be over yet, either. You wondered if his pride would win out, if he wouldn’t want to be the one to cop to it.

“So what’s next, querida, hm?”

“Am I still cashing in on my prize?” you rested your hands against his chest, “Or has that timed out?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “It’s whatever you want.”

You drummed your fingers lightly against the leather of his kutte, “I do like the sound of that,” you saw the smirk on his face and asked, “Any other places you’re in the mood to show me on our little joyride?”

He chuckled, “Maybe. I know a nice hotel a little ways up the road there,” he nodded back towards the road.

“Oh, do you now?” you fought back your laughter.

He pulled you against him for a moment, heat from his chest bleeding over into yours “I do,” he smiled as he handed you the helmet, “Ready to see if you can last the weekend?”

You bit down on your bottom lip with a nod, “Yea, I’m more than willing to win another bet against you, Reyes.”

He chuckled as he hopped onto his bike and waited for you to do the same, “Yea,” he settled into his seat as he felt your arms wrap around his waist, “We’ll see.”