#i just drew her wearing whatever i saw my sister wearing last

[z-1-wolfe]

torn between vaggie who was born and died a winner and vaggie who was heaven born

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

When the Tide Turns | Rafe Cameron

summary: the one where rafe is in love with his bestfriend’s sister

warnings: none i believe

word count: 4,212

——————————————

Rafe Cameron was never one for introspection. He preferred to live in the now, to act without hesitation, to indulge in whatever fleeting desires life offered. That was, until her. He knew it was a bad idea. He’d known it from the very first time he saw her — leaning against the railing of the Cameron family’s porch, laughing at something Kelce had said, her dark skin glowing golden in the afternoon sun. Her eyes, dark and deep like the night sky, shone with a curious mischief. He had caught himself staring, unable to look away, even as his best friend and the rest of the group continued their chatter around him.

"Rafe, you good?" Kelce had asked, snapping Rafe out of his daze.

Rafe had forced a smile, masking the turmoil inside. "Yeah, just thinking about something."

But that was the first time it hit him—he was in trouble.

He had tried to ignore it, told himself it was a phase, a simple crush that would fade. After all, Kelce was his best friend. He had known him for years. The thought of jeopardizing that bond for some fleeting attraction was beyond stupid. But every time he saw her, he couldn’t help it. The flutter in his chest when she looked at him. The way her laughter made everything else in the world fade into the background. He wasn’t used to feeling this way. In fact, he had never really felt this way about anyone. Rafe wasn’t the type to pine. He wasn’t the type to get caught up in anything more than a quick fling or a simple hookup. But with her? It was different. And that scared him.

It was the summer before their senior year of college and the Cameron beach house was filled with the usual chaos. The Outer Banks was at its peak tourist season, and the group of friends was used to spending most of their time down by the water. Rafe and his buddies, , had spent the day surfing and lounging in the sand, while the girls — and of course , Nia — had stayed behind at the house to cool off and relax. Nia was Kelce’s older sister, the one he’d always mentioned in passing but rarely brought around. She was a couple of years older than Rafe and the rest of the gang, which made her seem like this mysterious figure who was always out of reach. But Rafe had always noticed her. He wasn’t blind. She had this effortless elegance, something so unbothered about her presence that it drew people in.

And yet, she never seemed to be the type to crave attention. Her quiet confidence was intoxicating.

Nia had always been a little different from the others. The group would go out, get into trouble, and she’d hang back, listening to music or reading, never making a scene. She was insanely beautiful, almost too beautiful to be true. That was probably part of the reason why Rafe was so drawn to her—she didn’t *need* the attention. She wasn’t one to beg for validation. She simply was. But that afternoon, she was standing by the kitchen counter, wearing a flowy sundress that caught the late afternoon light. Her hair was braided loosely, a few strands framing her face, and she was making something to drink, humming to herself.

Rafe found himself watching her again. The way her fingers curled around the glass, the faint smile on her lips as she adjusted the jug of lemonade—he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was so beautiful, and yet so effortless about it. She wasn’t trying to be, and that made her even more captivating. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Kelce’s voice calling from the door.

"Yo, Rafe! Earth to Cameron!"

Rafe snapped back to reality, turning around with a sheepish grin. "Yeah?"

Kelce raised an eyebrow, following Rafe’s gaze and grinning. "You’ve been staring at my sister for, like, ten minutes, bro. You good?"

Rafe’s heart skipped. The last thing he needed was Kelce noticing, but there was no denying the tension in the air. "I’m fine," he said quickly, his tone more clipped than he intended. "Just... zoning out."

Kelce chuckled, but Rafe could see the glint of amusement in his eyes. "Just don’t make it weird, man," he teased, stepping inside. "She’s a lot to handle."

Rafe couldn’t help but grin mischievously , though his stomach twisted at the thought of handling Nia. It was a dangerous game to play. A game or two never hurt anybody. Kelce leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "She’s way out of your league anyway."

Rafe bristled. "You don’t know that."

Kelce shrugged, his expression growing more serious, knowing his sister. "Trust me, I do."

Rafe wondered what he meant by that.

——————————————

Later that evening, the group gathered around the fire pit. The sun had set, and the sky was painted in hues of purple and orange as the waves crashed in the distance. Everyone was lounging on chairs, drinking beers, telling stories, and joking around, but Rafe couldn’t seem to relax. He kept glancing over at Nia, who sat a little further off, watching the fire with an enigmatic expression. The way she was sitting—her legs crossed, her chin resting in her hand—looked almost too perfect. And then, when she caught him staring again, she didn’t look away. Instead, she smiled.

A slow, knowing smile. She was baiting him. Rafe felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He looked away quickly, trying to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary, but it was too late. The pull between them, that silent acknowledgment, was too strong. He could feel it in the air, thick and suffocating.

"Yo, Rafe, you gonna sit with us, or are you just gonna stare at my sister all night?" Kelce’s voice rang out, loud and unashamed. The entire group laughed, but Rafe’s heart was pounding in his chest. This wasn’t good. He was spiraling, and he had no idea how to stop it. Nia’s voice interrupted the chaos, light and teasing. "Don’t worry, Kelce. Rafe’s probably just thinking about how to ask me out."

Rafe froze. The words hung in the air, as though they had a weight of their own. The fire crackled, the sound of the ocean filling in the silence that followed.

Kelce shot Rafe a look that was half amused, half suspicious. "You’re not really thinking about that, are you?"

Rafe stood up, his pulse racing. "I—"

Before he could say anything more, Nia’s soft laughter rang out, cutting him off. "I’m just messing with you, Rafe."

The tension in his chest didn’t loosen, though. If anything, it only made the moment more awkward, more uncertain.

It wasn’t long after that evening that things between Rafe and Nia started to shift. There was a subtle change in the air whenever they were in the same room. The awkwardness faded, replaced by a comfortable tension that both of them could feel but neither dared to acknowledge. They spent more time together, often alone, without the group around. The first time it happened was when Rafe found himself alone in the kitchen, trying to fix his broken surfboard. Nia appeared out of nowhere, leaning against the doorframe with a cup of coffee in her hands, watching him in that quiet way she did.

"You need help with that?" she asked, voice low but full of humor.

Rafe shook his head, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. "I think I’ve got it, thanks."

She leaned closer, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Are you sure? Because I’m pretty good with tools, among other things."

The way she said it made Rafe’s stomach flip. His mind raced, unsure of whether he was imagining things, or if Nia was actually flirting with him. But before he could respond, she disappeared, her laughter trailing behind her.

—————————

It had been three weeks since Rafe Cameron first realized he was in over his head. Three weeks since the day Nia had arrived at the beach house, laughing at something Kelce had said, with that effortlessly cool vibe of someone who didn’t care about anything but enjoying the moment. From the first moment Rafe saw her, something in him shifted. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but everything felt different now.

But Nia wasn’t the type to make a scene. She was quietly confident, always in the background, like she had nothing to prove. It was that quiet strength that drew him in, but also made him feel like he was chasing something out of his reach. She wasn’t like the other girls he’d been with—more than just a pretty face with a smile that lit up a room. Nia had this presence, this calm, but also a mysterious, guarded aura that Rafe couldn’t shake. And the worst part? She seemed oblivious. At least, that’s what he told himself. Part of him hoped she knew the things he wanted to do to her, the way he thought about her. Kelce would lose it.

Rafe didn’t talk about his feelings. He didn’t have feelings, at least not for anyone who wasn’t a fleeting distraction. But Nia… she made him question everything. Every lingering glance, every laugh that vibrated in his chest, every time she brushed by him so close he could smell the coconut oil in her hair—it was like a spark in the dry kindling of his usual indifference. The fire was building, and he was terrified that it would burn everything to the ground.

---

The tension between Rafe and Nia wasn’t something that could be pinpointed on a single day. It was a slow, gradual thing, like the rising tide inching toward the shore, barely noticeable at first, but inevitable. Every time she smiled at him, Rafe felt that pull—a magnet drawing him in, an invisible thread weaving between them. And every time he caught her looking at him, her gaze lingering just a beat longer than necessary, his heart would skip in a way he’d never felt before. It was during those quiet moments that the tension truly began to take shape. No one else seemed to notice it. Kelce, his boys, and the rest of the group were too wrapped up in their own drama, too carefree to see what was happening. But Rafe couldn’t ignore it.

The first real turning point came one afternoon when Rafe found himself alone with Nia in the kitchen. It had been a long day of surfing, and most of the group had scattered to do their own thing—Kelce had disappeared to the beach to meet some friends, and the others were lounging in the living room. Rafe had made himself a sandwich, but the sound of the blender whirring stopped him in his tracks. Nia was at the counter, her back to him, slicing fruit for a smoothie. The low hum of the blender and the soft rustle of her movements were oddly soothing, and Rafe found himself standing there, watching her. She was wearing a simple tank top with no bra and shorts, her dark skin glowing in the soft light. The way her hands moved, so purposeful and graceful, made him feel like he was witnessing something intimate—something private. Rafe didn’t mean to stare. But he couldn’t help it. There was something about her that pulled him in. His breath hitched once he seen the jewelry around her nipples.

Nia turned, catching his gaze. The air between them thickened. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful smile. "You need something?" she asked, her voice casual but with a hint of something deeper—something teasing. Rafe cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how awkward he must look. "Just… watching the magic happen," he muttered, his words coming out rougher than he’d intended. Nia’s smile grew wider, and she leaned against the counter, studying him. "You know," she said slowly, "you’ve been acting a little… off lately."

Rafe stiffened. "Off?"

"Yeah. Staring into space, zoning out during conversations. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve got this… look in your eyes." She paused, and the playful edge to her voice softened. "Like you’re thinking about something. Or someone."

Rafe swallowed hard. His heart thudded in his chest, and for a moment, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Had she noticed? Had she known all along?

He forced a chuckle, trying to brush it off. "Nah, just tired. Been surfing all day."

But Nia didn’t look convinced. Her eyes never left him, and there was a knowing quality to her gaze that made his insides twist.

"Okay," she said slowly, dragging out the word. "But you don’t have to act so weird around me, Rafe. I’m not gonna bite."

The way she said it sent a ripple of heat through him. The teasing tone, the way her voice dipped just slightly at the end—was she flirting with him? He couldn’t tell. Maybe it was just his imagination running wild. But even then, that seed was planted. He couldn't shake the feeling that the tension between them had shifted just a little. Maybe she was picking up on something too. Maybe she was playing with him, testing the waters. But whatever it was, it was undeniably there, and it was dangerous.

————————————-

The days that followed were a blur of stolen moments and heavy silences. There were no direct confessions—no grand gestures, no open acknowledgment of the pull that seemed to grow between them. Instead, it was the little things. The way Nia would brush against him when she passed him in the hallway, always so close, always so deliberate. The way her eyes would meet his across a crowded room, and for just a second, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. She bent over in front of him any chance she got, wearing skirts most of the time so that he could see her different color thongs. Rafe couldn’t seem to stop himself from responding, his body reacting instinctively, always wanting to bridge the distance. He was a guy who’d never been afraid of the chase, but with Nia, it wasn’t about that. It was about something else Something deeper, something that made him feel more vulnerable than he was willing to admit.

He didn’t understand it, and he hated the way it made him feel.

————————————

It was the night of the full moon when it all came to a head. The group had gathered on the beach for a bonfire. The ocean stretched out before them, dark and infinite, the waves crashing against the shore. The air was thick with salt and laughter, the sound of crackling wood filling the space between them. Rafe was drunk. Not enough to lose control, but just enough to feel reckless. The night was fading, the sky darkening above them, and everyone was starting to break off in pairs or small groups. But Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off Nia. She was sitting by the fire, her long legs stretched out in front of her, her face illuminated by the flames as she talked with Kie. It was so easy to let his gaze wander over her—so natural. She had this way of commanding attention without trying. The firelight danced on her skin, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the curve of her lips. Everything about her seemed to draw him in like a moth to a flamee.

It was at that moment, when she glanced over and caught his gaze, that Rafe felt his heart skip. She didn’t look away immediately. In fact, she held his gaze for a beat too long before a sly smile tugged at her lips, and she turned back to Kie. But the damage was done. The pull between them had shifted into something undeniable.

A few moments later, Rafe found himself alone by the edge of the water, trying to cool off. He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore—he just needed a break from the intensity of the night. But then he heard her footsteps behind him.

"Nia," he said, turning just as she stopped beside him, close enough that their arms brushed.

"You’ve been acting weird again," she said, her voice low but direct. Rafe let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. "You don’t give up, do you?"

She smiled, but there was something different in her eyes now—something more serious. "You think I don’t notice?"

Rafe didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, Nia took a step closer, her body now inches from his. "I’ve been noticing," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper above the crashing waves. "I know what you’ve been thinking."

Rafe’s breath hitched in his throat. His body tensed, every muscle screaming at him to back away, to walk away before things went too far. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to.

"You don’t know what I’m thinking," he said, his voice rough.

"I think I do," she replied, her hand brushing lightly against his arm, sending a shock of heat through him. It was the first time she had touched him like that. It was enough to set everything in motion. Rafe turned to face her, his heart hammering in his chest. "And what is that?" he asked, his voice barely more than a growl.

Nia’s eyes flickered down to his lips before locking onto his gaze again. "That you’re trying to resist something that’s already happening."

———————————-

Rafe’s breath hitched in his chest at her words. For a moment, he was frozen, unable to move, his mind racing a million miles a minute. The pull between them felt *too much*—like the tension in the air before a storm, just waiting to break. His pulse hammered in his neck, and he couldn’t look away from her. Nia was so close now that he could feel the warmth of her body, the faint scent of coconut oil on her skin, the sweet, intoxicating fragrance of the summer evening air. She was standing just inches from him, but the distance between them felt like a chasm.

“You’re not wrong,” Rafe muttered before he could stop himself. His words hung in the air like an admission he hadn’t meant to make.

Nia’s lips parted slightly as she processed his response, her gaze never leaving his face. She didn’t smile this time, but her eyes softened. The playful edge that had usually colored her voice was gone, replaced by something more sincere, more searching.

“I didn’t think you’d admit it so easily,” she said quietly, taking a small step closer, her hand now hovering just above his. Her touch was almost electric, just a fraction of an inch from his skin, and it made Rafe’s heart race even faster.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore, but the air between them was thick, heavy with something that felt far too real to ignore. Nia was looking at him like she was trying to decipher him—her eyes searching his face, trying to figure out if what he’d just admitted was the truth.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Rafe asked, his voice hoarse, betraying the uncertainty gnawing at him. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Nia raised an eyebrow, a glint of something almost amused in her eyes. “Like what?”

“Like I’m the only thing that matters in the room.” His voice cracked slightly, and he winced. Damn it. That wasn’t supposed to happen. But it was too late. The words had left his mouth, and now the floodgates were open.

Nia was quiet for a beat, but when she spoke again, her voice was low, almost a whisper, as though she were letting him in on a secret only the two of them shared. “Maybe because you *are* the only thing that matters, Rafe.”

The weight of her words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart seemed to stop for a second, before it started pounding faster, a crescendo of emotion building inside of him. He wanted to pull away—he needed to pull away—but his feet felt like they were glued to the sand. It was too late now. The magnetic force between them had already snapped.

Rafe exhaled shakily, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let his guard down. All of the pent-up frustration, the confusion, the desire—it all came crashing down on him at once. He stepped forward, closing the remaining gap between them until there was no space left. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell the saltwater on her skin mixed with the faint scent of her perfume.

Nia didn’t pull back. She didn’t run, didn’t hesitate. Instead, she stood her ground, her eyes locked on his, unwavering.

“What are we doing, Nia?” Rafe breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air between them, charged with everything they hadn’t said to each other up until now.

Nia’s lips parted, her breath mingling with his, and for a moment, Rafe thought she might say something, anything that would pull them back from the edge. But she didn’t. Instead, she closed the distance between them, just a fraction of an inch, and pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath her fingers. Her touch was soft, delicate even, but it sent a shock of heat through Rafe, and the tension between them became unbearable.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Nia said quietly, her voice barely audible over the crashing of the waves. There was a vulnerability in her words that Rafe hadn’t expected. It was raw, unguarded in a way he hadn’t seen before.

Her hand slid from his chest up to his jaw, her fingers brushing lightly against his skin. He could feel the heat of her touch radiating through him, like a fire igniting inside him, and he couldn’t resist anymore. He stepped forward again, tilting his head slightly, eyes dropping to her lips. Everything else seemed to fall away.

The world around them, the sound of the waves, the crackling fire on the beach—it all blurred into the background. There was only Nia. Only this moment. Before he could second-guess himself, before he could talk himself out of it, Rafe leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against hers. It was a soft kiss at first—hesitant, almost tentative, as if neither of them wanted to break the fragile tension that had built between them for so long. But the moment their lips met, something inside Rafe snapped. The kiss deepened, slow and languid, as if they had all the time in the world, but neither of them was willing to let go of the moment.

Nia’s hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and Rafe responded in kind, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her into him until there was no space left between them. The kiss was everything he hadn’t known he was craving—passionate, desperate, but with a tenderness that made his chest ache.

For a moment, it was like the entire world had disappeared. There was only the two of them, tangled together in a kiss that felt like it had been a long time coming. Rafe didn’t know what to do with the feelings swirling inside him. All he knew was that he wanted more. But when they finally broke apart, breathing heavily, the world came crashing back into focus. Nia was looking up at him, her eyes wide and breathless, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss.

Rafe’s heart was still racing, his mind still reeling. “What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion, but with a trace of disbelief.

Nia bit her lip, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I think that was the moment we stopped pretending we weren’t feeling this.”

Rafe’s chest tightened. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed her to say that, to make it real. “And now what?”

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching his face. “Now? I don’t know, Rafe. But we can’t keep pretending this doesn’t matter.”

He nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and fear flood through him. “You’re right.” His voice was rough, barely a whisper. He could feel the weight of the unspoken words, the ones they both knew they weren’t quite ready to say yet.

Nia’s eyes softened, and she took a step back, but only just. Her fingers lingered on his arm, like she wasn’t ready to let go either.

“We take it one step at a time,” she said softly, her gaze never leaving his. “No pressure. Just… us.”

Rafe exhaled, his heart still pounding in his chest, but somehow lighter. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

As they stood there, just a breath apart, the tension between them hadn’t faded. It had only shifted—into something new, something uncharted. Rafe knew that whatever happened next would change everything. But for now, this was enough. This was the start of something neither of them could walk away from, even if they tried.

The waves crashed against the shore, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

[just-some-random-blogger]

hi! your works are absolutely fascinating! so alive(?) and captivating. (if you're comfortable with it) can you please write something about daemon x rhae royce's younger sister who looks like a pretty lady but has a personality of a much harsher warrior than anyone could imagine. maybe she appears at the court right after rhae's death or even later. i just had an idea and it's totally you right to decide what to do with it. thank u in advance!

Served Cold

Daemon Targaryen x Royce!Reader

Summary: "Twas never my sister which was the ugly one between the two of us," I seethe, holding my dagger even tighter to the prince's neck, "Twas I."

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Depictions/descriptions of violence/death/murder, fem!reader, i spun a roulette to decide daemon's fate, i describe readers features, gaslight gatekeep girlboss, typos, etc.

A/N: I WAS SO EXCITED WHEN I SAW THIS NONNIE. RHEA WASN'T EVEN UGLY DAEMON NEEDS GLASSES AND TO GO TO JAIL. This is my vindication for the baddest babe that never got to be. I hope you like it nonnie, this took quite a dark turn lol Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda Part two anyone "I Want You, I Get You"

I made it a point to perfect my form before even practicing my moves. I was conscientious and sedulous in my work. Fair enough, I was not a quick learner like my sister. Rhea had always been better a picking up new things, but then again, I suppose the reason why it took me a while to learn something was because I wanted to make sure I knew every nuance, every sliver of detail about whatever it was that I was learning, before allowing myself to get into it.

And so when I was getting into him, by the time I was done, I knew Daemon Targaryen better than he even knew himself.

I knew it all. What he liked, and what he didn't. What got him turned on, what got him blood thirsty, and what got him bored.

I knew him like the back of my hand.

I knew what would make him tick before I even met him.

And I knew well to dress myself in colors that pleased him-- his house colors, of course, in all his vanity. I knew what style of dresses he liked on women; I knew the exact level of madonna and whore he was looking for.

I made sure the plunges of my collars were deep enough to attract attention, but modest enough to keep something for the imagination. I also I told my seamstress to keep my sleeves short and capped so he would want nothing more than to touch my bare arms.

If a tinge of decency overcame Daemon out of sport, I made sure to give him reason to avert his attentions to my skin by wearing some delicate silver jewelry.

I painted my face to accentuate the features I have been complimented on since a child. I drew on my eyes to make them look as though they were constantly gazing unto him with wonder, and brushed red on my cheeks, as though I was constantly blushing at his remarks, and on my lips, as though I was constantly pouting at his teases.

But all those things were nothing. The appearances I've had in front of the prince thus far, at court, during festivities and otherwise where nothing compared to what I had planned on our red-letter day.

Today, the kicker was my hair, my hair that was tied well enough to keep my thick, brown locks in fashion, but loose enough that with a strong enough flick, it would come undone.

"Lady Royce," Daemon calls, handing me a drink. I raised an eye at him and showed no acceptance of it as I crossed my arms.

He enjoyed that. He enjoyed it so much he poured the drink meant for me into his own cup and threw the empty one behind him with no regard. Why would he have regard, anyway?

He rakes in my appearance, "I see you have made a point to wear blue and red this evening," his lips curve, "could this be a marriage proposal between our two houses?"

Daemon is excited by my crass response, "you have not only already tainted my sister's being and bloodied your hands with hers, yet now you still thirst to defile the last remaining of her house?"

He tilts his head down at me as he narrows his eyes, "except I never touched that troll," the prince steps forward, "never wanted to touch her," he smirks, "unlike her little sister."

I lean close to him as I glare, "you're going to have to keep dreaming about it, my prince, because the day our skin touches is the day one of us dies."

Daemon breathes in my scent before I pull away abruptly. He chuckles from his spot, watching as I stormed off.

I was meant to exit the chamber and have him follow after me, but it seems that would not be happening, as Jason Lannister made it a point to grab my arm before I could depart.

"Lady Royce," he calls, making me turn and stand before him as he pulls away, "I apologize for the brashness, but I could not allow myself to have you leave without sharing at least one drink with me.

My lips curve at his words. A devious smile winds up on my lips, "why of course, my lord."

Jason then leads me off to where we could share a drink in relative quiet. I feel Daemon's gaze burn me with every move I made.

He was not particularly entertaining; Jason made it a point to talk about himself and how rich and powerful he was, but still, I made it appear that I was absolutely enchanted by our conversation, and that I was absolutely smitten.

I do say, Daemon had a timeliness to himself when he caught me genuinely laughing to the first funny thing Jason Lannister said all night.

And so when the vermin carelessly pulled me back with so much force, my hair tie finally gave up as I turned to him in offence.

I gasp at it, clutching my hair and its accessories, so that it would not further fall. Jason picks up one of my fallen clips as I rip my arm out of Daemon's clutch. I eye him darkly and mutter, "imbecile."

He lets out a dry scoff as Jason does a horrible job at trying to put my clip back where it was a while ago.

I grab his hand in both of mine and give a pinched smile, "I appreciate the efforts, Jason, but I think it is a sign I should retire. I could not go about the rest of the night like this."

"Nonesense," he shakes his head, "dare I say you look better this way."

I chuckle under my breath and begin to back away, "I thank you for your high opinions of me, but I really must go."

I take in Jason's expression as he steps towards me. Daemon eyes him darkly.

A clever thought springs in mind. I release a breath, "well, if you would like, we can meet at the gardens after I fix my hair."

The Lannister's face lights up, "I would want nothing more."

I give him one last look of regard, forfeiting one for Daemon, and make my way outside.

I make attempts together my hair up and fix it the way it was a while ago. It was I that fashioned my hair today. It was an easy task to do it again, even without a mirror, this time, more securely. I make my way out of the hall, towards the gardens.

I feel my stomach churn in anticipation when I hear the heavy footsteps behind me.

The next thing I know, I am pressed against the wall, being stared down my the riled up Targaryen, "you exasperating minx."

My nostrils flare at his expression and I shove him off me with a grunt. He reels back at my unexpected strength.

I give him a dirty look as I speed down the hall.

Daemon takes a moment before replying and chasing after me, "do you expect me to believe you did not plan for that to happen?"

I scoff as I gather my skirts in my hands, "oh, but of course I wanted my hair to come undone before Jason Lannister. That was the plan from the moment I was born."

When I hear his steps quicken, I bring my skirt higher and tighter in my grips, running faster.

Daemon is stunned by this and it takes a moment for the scene to register in his mind.

I eventually make it into the garden when he manages to grab me again. We are both heaving when he spins me around and tightly clasps my arms, "nowhere to run, little girl."

I grip my skirt tightly as I wrangle my shoulders in his grip. Daemon smirks at me all while using his strength against my actions.

"Now that you've had your fun," he leans in, "it's my turn now."

I bring my hand under my skirt. The moment he makes the mistake of withdrawing one of his hands, I knee him with all my strength in his groin, sending him crumpling down with a pained whine. That will hopefully prevent him from ever having children.

"You fucking bit-"

I tackle him to the ground, ripping my dagger off my thigh holster as I did so. With him pinned bellow me and my knee onto his back, I brought the blade to his neck, red immediately begins to gush against his skin, "you must understand something-"

I gag him with a piece of cloth I prepared in the chance he squirmed. He did not, I gaged him out of spite.

"Twas never my sister which was the ugly one between the two of us," I seethe, holding my dagger even tighter to the prince's neck, "Twas always I."

With one, clean, practiced move, I slashed the prince's throat. I made sure it was not enough to kill him, but enough for the guards to find him when I scream for help. We'll find out soon enough if it is his fate to meet my sister, or if it is mine.

I drop the blade to his side and pull away from him. I turn to my hands, smiling at the fact I managed to keep them clean. I then drop to my hind, and crawl back screaming, "HELP! HELP! SOMEONE HELP US! THE PRINCE HAS BEEN SLAIN!"

I continue my screams up until someone comes.

It's Jason, frantic and distraught.

Perfect.

[starfall-spirit]

Read on Ao3

Ancient Myths Retold Masterlist

AN: Only one more chapter after this guys! I decided to break it in half because I already had an offensive number of pagebreaks here and it would just be better to break it up with the smut and epilogue at the end to make for a less awkward transition and a substantial last chapter.

Chapter VI: How the Fragile Fall

Feyre

Rhys and Feyre returned home to a scathing letter that originated in the Spring Court. Rhys sighed, shoulders slumping. “This isn’t a formal missive. It’s signed by Tamlin, not his father. I thought…” He shook his head. “It was an arrangement barely cemented. For him to react this way barely knowing you, aware you’re mated…”

“Even those we think we know best wear a mask, Rhys. I’m just sorry your friendship is caught in the middle of all this. There’s always a chance these words are just something in the heat of the moment. The engagement holds no standing. Any sort of retaliation would be without allies. With time, this could be mended.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” he agreed, though each word was more hollow than the one before it. He rubbed his brow before moving to the armoire. “I’m expected in Windhaven by tomorrow afternoon. I need to pack my things.”

“Your father sends you away because he fears your power.” Feyre’s nose scrunched with her frown. “It isn’t right that you miss so much in Velaris.”

“Ah, but the Night Court is a vast territory, full of many people and creatures I will one day be High Lord to.” Feyre crossed her arms, raising a brow to tell him she saw right through that practiced line. “No,” he admitted with another sigh, absently beginning to fold what he intended to take to the camp the following day. “It isn’t fair. He has convinced himself my potential is the first step to his downfall.” 

And despite his dream of a better court, Rhys had no inclination to accept such a title yet, let alone commit patricide for it. “But I’ve said all this before. We don’t need to go through it all again.” A soft smile pulled at his lips and he reached to brush his knuckles down the curve of her jaw. “I’m going to miss you while I’m in Windhaven.”

Feyre drew back, confused. “But I thought… You don’t want me to come with you.”

“On the contrary, I want you with me always. But I can’t say I trust myself not to kill anyone who says something to insult you or treats you less than you are.”

“And what am I, Rhys?” There was no agitation to her tone. One might even say it sounded teasing, like she was merely searching for flattery, if she wasn’t truly curious how an heir’s mate was viewed in this court. In the eyes of these warriors and their lords.

“What are you?” Sitting on the bed he pulled her up to straddle his muscled thighs. “To me, you’re a great many things. Mate, lover, friend, confidant.” The raw adoration in his voice reflected clearly in his eyes, the crushing violet of them too enchanting to turn from. Feyre wondered if the years passing would somehow dull the magnetism of the bond between them. She hoped time had no power in that.

His next words were designed to shatter that pull. “To them you are like any other female, meant to fulfill whatever role would prove most convenient to them at the time.”

“A little elbow grease never hurt anyone. And your sister—”

“My sister stayed tucked away in the house our mother keeps there, being provided an education of Illyrian customs before promptly returning to Velaris. They fear my father too much to treat Avy poorly and as a female she could not be thrown in a training program designed to weed out the weak. She was ostracized instead. As you will be, so long as the males there believe me too unstable for them to risk approaching you. Eventually that won’t be enough.”

“So I’m just meant to stay here, planning some extravagant ceremony and awaiting your return?”

He chuckled at her pout. “My sweet mate, how put upon you sound.” He sobered, kissing her forehead. “It is not my intention to create a life for us that holds nothing more than party planning and child rearing for you, Feyre. But in this case, your attendance won’t do anything to help the situation. It will only make my father more satisfied with all of his posturing in this.”

Feyre frowned. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

“Never.” They stayed that way for a moment, forehead to forehead, with only the sound of their breathing between them. “Wait for me, darling?” Rhys finally murmured against her skin.

“Always.”

~~~~~

How pathetic it must be, to already ache for someone’s company having only spent two days apart. She had not been sitting in wait of course, having much to prepare for their official ceremony as well as simply getting to know Avyanna and Victorie better. “Feyre?” Her eyes snapped back to the table at the hint of concern she detected.

“S-sorry,” she stammered. “I guess I’m a little distracted today.”

Victorie smiled, topping off the spiced tea in Feyre’s cup she’d been served at breakfast. “It isn’t natural for mates to be separated at this distance so soon after accepting their bond,” she told Feyre. She felt an immediate flush over her neck and face. “Oh, don’t be embarrassed, dear. I’ve been in your shoes. There were better days, once upon a time.” Victorie shook her head. “I realize you were raised in a household very different from ours, but here there is no shame in emotion and expression.”

She swallowed. “I never expected I’d have that blessing. I never thought I’d have the chance to meet my mate, with my parents pushing us into society so quickly. I overheard my mother once say I was lucky that Tamlin could look beyond the fact I wasn’t demure, like Elain or cunning like Nesta. I thought a loveless life was the best I’d get.” She couldn’t help but give a wry laugh. “I suppose there are benefits to being serpent bait. This city, the people in it, I never dreamed of finding something like it.”

“One little paradise in a world of cruelty, as it will remain.” 

Though Feyre wanted to continue exploring the conversation, her next though was interrupted by a scrap of paper appearing on the table, the now familiar scrawl of Rhys’ handwriting addressing the paper with her name. She furrowed her brow. “He didn’t say anything about writing.”

“As I said,” Victorie told her, her attention turning to the row of swaths in front of her that were meant to give them an idea of the mating ceremony’s decor, “it isn’t natural to be forced apart this early.”

Feyre couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy about their correspondence, that is until she read what her mate had written to her about. 

I’m sorry, my love. I thought this would be something I could handle quickly, but it seems I’ll be kept away a while longer than expected. Keep thinking of me.

Her smile fell. “Business there is keeping him from returning as planned.”

She heard a sharp scoff from behind her. Avy had come to join them. “It’s a stunt of Devlon’s I’m sure. Rhys will be irritable, even without you present. Not to mention your scent will be all over him. It would have been smarter to take you with him, honestly. They wouldn’t be having as much fun if they couldn’t keep you apart as easily. You know, we could always take a trip, us girls. I hear Cassian and Azriel are back at the camps as well and I’ve missed them terribly.”

She turned to her mother, batting her eyes. Victorie sighed heavily, though Feyre didn’t miss the glint of amusement in those violet eyes. “You will be escorted.”

“Agreed. Let’s go, Feyre. You can wear something of mine to keep warm.”

~~~~~

Feyre couldn’t quite put her finger on why their escort to the Steppes made her uneasy. One might assume it was the brutal scar that slashed down from his brow to his jawline, or his hulking form, over a foot taller than her own, she was certain, but she knew that wasn’t really what had her hesitating to take his hand to winnow. It was something in his eyes, nervous rather than stoic.

But the Lady of Night trusted the guard who volunteered. So could the two of them, she supposed. “It will take me two jumps, carrying you both,” he told them curtly. “Are you ready?”

“Most definitely,” Avy said, her voice cheerful and trusting.

Everything would be fine, Feyre was certain. Perhaps it was in her head. She was just nervous about defying Rhys’ wish for her to keep out of Illyrian business for the time being. Steadying her trembling limbs, she accepted the male’s offered hand, squeezing his hand tightly and bracing herself for the twist and pull of his winnowing. She was finally growing used to the feeling, less prone now to nausea and vertigo, thankfully.

Now though, she still found herself landing the second time with a twist in her gut. It wasn’t the chill of the mountain region that greeted them, but warm rays of sunshine peeking through the rich greenery of the trees above them. The scent of lilies permeated the warm air around them. The grove they stood within was all too familiar to Feyre, even having only been near it a handful of times. Several yards before them was not a brutal camp in the Steppes, but the manor where the High Lord of Spring and his family resided.

Tamlin’s voice reached her just before he stepped into view, smiling as if he’d just won the greatest prize. “Hello, Feyre. Welcome home.” 

Feyre bit back her startled cry when she felt Avy rip through the mediocre mental shield she had just begun training with Rhys’ help, forgiving the violation the moment she sensed the panic behind each word echoing in her head. “ He has wards up, but if we find a way to get beyond them I can winnow short distances. Not like Rhys or Father, but enough to escape and find a door back to Night before I’m drained.”

“Can you cleave wards?”

“I can shatter through weak spots.”

“Tamlin,” Feyre started. “I—” 

An idea struck her then. “Feyre, no.”

“His focus will be on me. There is a chance you could make it home. Get Rhys. Hell, get your father to help. He may not like me yet, but he knows what mates mean.”

She didn’t give Avy another chance to talk her out of it, falling to her knees and reaching deep into that dark power that had fluttered to life inside of her the moment she claimed Rhys as hers. Darkness and starlight ripped out of her and she made a show of crumpling on the hard stone beneath her. A broad calloused hand pillowed her head before it could strike the ground.

“Tamlin,” she said again, careful to add a note of absence to her voice.

“I knew you couldn’t be in your right mind,” he growled. “The distance must have shattered his hold on your mind.” His anger shifted to something almost like sorrow. “I thought he was better than his father. I hoped he was better. That doesn’t matter now.”

His head whipped back to assess Avy who was pressed against a nearby trellis doing an excellent job at playing the meek girl most males though she should be. “Please, she didn’t know. This wasn’t his family’s scheme, Tamlin. Just his. He wanted to take me from you, that’s all.”

She pressed her face to his neck, nearly choking on the cloying scent of the forest that met her. Luckily the break in her voice could easily enough be interpreted as an emotional reaction, rather than disgust. She could keep this up, buy them time. Rhys was powerful enough to shatter the wards, she was certain. Even if Avy couldn’t find an escape, he and his mother would put the pieces together when the guard never returned to Velaris and when they never stepped foot in Windhaven. Ambush or betrayal, he would find them. 

She had to believe that.

~~~~~

Avy had no chance of finding a weak point in the wards. Not when she remained under lock and key every second of the day. Feyre was allowed out to spend time with Tamlin, but the only mercy Avy was allowed was sharing a room with Feyre. It had been no small feat to convince Tamlin and his family that she was innocent when it came to the daemati scheme they had fabricated against Rhys, but playing up the horror at her brother’s actions, they had managed it.

They still didn’t dare speak of the charade in play—verbally at least. Feyre had never been so thankful to be related to a daemati.

“I’m glad you’ve come to see us as family so quickly, Feyre. You seemed so distant that first night, I worried.”

“You’ve been warmer to me than my own flesh and blood. Why would I not consider you family?”

“What of Elain? You visited Day this week.”

“Elain is in a difficult place at the moment. We made a promise to try to be closer. I want to know her, want to know my nephew. Even Lucien, if he ever makes it home. He’s my brother by marriage—mating, rather. I don’t know how she hid it for so long. I didn’t attend the ceremony, but still, that isn’t exactly a small technicality. All these years I’ve pitied her for the wrong reasons.”

“You know, sometimes pity is the first thing we feel on instinct. From what I’ve heard, your sister needs something else entirely right now.”

Feyre didn’t have the chance to think on what that meant. A shockwave rippled through the court and the golden cord within her began to thrum. Anger, anxiety—and something near relief as she reached to sooth the roiling emotions flooding it. “Feyre.”

“We’re alright. Locked in a room in the west wing, but we’re alright.”

“I’m sending Azriel for you. You’ll both allow him to take you home, no arguments.”

“Away from the door,” someone barked. A controlled blast of blue-tinged power shattered the wood, sending splinters flying a few feet each direction.

“Az,” Avy breathed. 

“Avyanna,” the winged male’s tone made that single word nothing better than a scolding. “He’s not happy. None of us are happy.”

“Gavin has always been trustworthy. We had no reason to believe he wouldn’t take us to Windhaven.” 

Jaw clenching, he offered them both a hand. “Let’s go.” Avy obeyed, stepping in close. Feyre could only retreat a step. “Feyre, I know we haven’t met, but—”

“I know who you are. I trust you. But I can’t leave Rhys.”

“The High Lord is here. So is Cassian and several—”

“I won’t leave my mate until this is over,” she snarled. Another blast of power rattled the foundation of the house, singing through her as soothing as it was deadly. “I won’t.”

“You don’t have any sort of training, Feyre. Rhys would never forgive me if you were hurt.” She only raised her chin. He chuckled. “It’s no wonder you’re his match.” And with that he was gone, taking Avy with him.

Feyre didn’t stall a second longer, rushing down the hall to the heart of the manner where she knew the fight was being waged. 

~~~~~

Rhysand

“Is this what you wanted, Tamlin? Look around.”

“All I see is that you’re as sick as the rest of them, Rhys. So much for the dreamer. So much for the good male. She told me what you did to her. Claimed her mind. Your hold only broke when she was brought to the other side of the continent, but it broke all the same. You haven’t won as much as you thought you have. You haven’t—”

His eyes widened, glancing past Rhys. It only took another moment for the scent of lilac and pear to wash over him, just managing to cut through the suffocating stench of spilled blood. Slender arms wound around him from behind, her body pressing flush against his back so he could feel her glide up onto her toes. Smirking, he tilted his head so she could be level with his ear. “He was so damn easy to play, Rhys. It’s almost sad.”

Rhy watched Tamlin take in every word, every touch. “You little bitch.” 

The shadows binding him locked down tight, his face beginning to redden as his air was slowly cut off. “Rhys,” she purred. 

“I suggest you be more careful in your wording, Tam.” Rhys willed the shadows around his neck to slacken, only to step out of his mate’s hold, drawing his blade. “Tonight you make me the villain for reclaiming what you took.”

“You and every wretched bastard—”

“They’ve returned home, Tamlin. Now it’s just you and I. You and I and sweet Feyre.” Leaning in close, he pressed the edge of his blade against Tamlin’s throat. “Was it worth it, losing your brothers for a female that would never be yours?”

“Was keeping her worth losing your father? I know how you loathe the crown you’re due. You forget, I know why you’ve kept bowing to him. Congratulations, you’ll finally meet the corruption you fear, won’t you?”

A growl ripped from his throat and his blade broke skin.

“Rhys.” He froze at the sound of Feyre’s voice. “Rhys don’t do this.”

“An act such as this can’t go unpunished, Feyre. He knew what he risked in taking you.”

“If you kill him you will regret it by morning—and every day that follows. You don’t want his death on your conscience. Rhys, think about this.”

Her worlds held enough sway with him to leash the protective instincts that had brough his blade to Tamlin’s throat. Locked there, he watched the edge of his blade claim the smallest stream of blood, watched his oldest friend battle with fear and pride as he himself warred with mercy and revenge.

He felt a soft touch slipping over his mind, more like the stroke of a petal than a claw. She was finally exploring the gifts their mating had granted her. “You told me once you don’t want to become your father, Rhys. Who are you going to see when you look in the mirror tonight? I’d never judge you for your choice, but I don’t think the same can be said for yourself.”

And just like that he was pushing off the wall, his blade clattering to the stone in front of Tamlin. He left it where it lay, knowing the shadows binding the Spring heir would not fail him even as he turned his attention on his mate, channeling that primal rage—the thing screaming protect, protect, protect— into something more focused.

“A lesson will be taught tonight, one way or another,” he told her, maintaining that mental connection as he crushed his lips to hers. Taking a risk, he slid one hand down her body, stopping only when he cupped her center through her pants. “I can kill the bastard, or… we can give him a show.”

He watched a shiver roll through her and gave a dark chuckle. “A show it shall be.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer // @eat0crow

[littlestkoi-n]

11 random pjo&hoo headcanons

mostly Will Solace centric cuz I'm hyperfixated on this dork

Will is terrified of birds (which is canon in tsats apparently but idgaf about that book sooo) after he saw vultures attacking a newborn calf on his grandparents' ranch. he didn't know they could do that at the time and was really disturbed by the birds vomiting when they noticed him watching.

literally any song can heal. cue Will bursting into I Can't Decide by Scissor Sisters while healing cabin 5 for the umpteenth time.

Jason is a feral wolf boy (it's not really an unpopular opinion but whatever). he bites, barks and growls when sparring. extremely territorial. doesn't like the feeling of a table edge against his forearms so he eats sitting cross-legged on the ground. doesn't like wearing shoes and only started sleeping on a normal bed at 12 when during a particularly cold winter he kept getting sick from sleeping on the barracks' floor and Reyna manhandled his ass to New Rome's furniture store and got him a thin mattress.

Jason needs to be within touching distance of someone at all times. he'd reflexively comb through and braid Reyna and Piper's hair, play with Dakota and Leo's curls, press his forehead against Gwen and Nico's shoulder blades and side hug Bobby and Thalia.

unmasked Will has murder in his eyes. his pacifism is not an innate trait, but his ultimate choice. a very hard one at times, because his brain's first instinct is always "choose violence". his anger issues are even worse than Percy's, although his self-control is better.

on a related note - grandpa Micah taught Will how to shoot a gun when he was 6. his archery skills are nonexistent, but he's the best shot with firearms. he tries to keep it on the down low however, cuz he prefers to give off a non-threatening sunshine vibe to most other campers, but he occasionally works on his shooting during solitary forest patrols and while at home on holiday breaks.

Hazel becomes a hardcore brony the moment she finds out about MLP. her favourite character is Princess Luna. her bunkspace is now full of merch and creepypastas are her new bedtime stories.

Nico doesn't like peanut butter but absolutely loves cottage cheese. Will finds that interesting. Will himself likes both.

Will loves emo music actually. although he will annoy everybody by always picking the silliest country songs during his shifts at the infirmary. he thinks it creates good vibes.

Nico's hair is thick, kinda wavy and hard to manage so he's constantly caught between craving to grow it out really long and impulsively cutting it chin-length. so in last olympian it's down to his shoulders but during Gaea war he sports a short shag again. after settling at camp he can finally grow it out cuz Drew shows him her cabin's secret weapon - conditioner!

everybody in cabin 7 knows italian (just like cabin 10 knows french. and yes, I know it's another popular one), but only to the extent of their music gift. so while Austin is bilingual, Will's innate italian knowledge is lower intermediate at best. although naturally they can only speak and understand it (just like with ancient greek and cabin 10's french) so they still have to study writing.

lots of those are inspired by general fanon as well as many fic writers' personal headcanons, but off the top of my head I can only tell you that the peanut butter one is from iyncbyhim by @yrbeecharmer

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[alwaysmarveling]

To Be Seen

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Warnings: Hints at neglect

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: All superpowers seem to have a downside to them. Invisibility is no exception.

You got your first pair of glasses when you turned seven. The black frames were a birthday present of sorts. You had your eye set on a transparent blue pair, or honestly any of the many colorful options that lined the shelves, but your mother had grabbed the black ones without a word to you and placed them on the counter. Then the two of you went home, back to the always busy house, buzzing with the sounds of your siblings’ chatter and the television that entertained your constantly preoccupied father. There was no cake, no other presents, not even a “congratulations” or a “happy birthday,” but that was okay. That was okay because you had already gotten the gift of sight.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself that night, your younger sister already sound asleep beside you while you looked up at the glow-in-the-dark shapes taped to the ceiling. The glasses turned the green fuzzy blobs into actual stars, their points clear and easily counted as you drifted off to sleep with the lenses still on. “You can see now.”

---

You found out you could make yourself invisible on the day you hit ten years old. When you woke up, the first thing you did was look at yourself in the mirror, trying to see if you looked any different from the day before, when you were nine. Double digits should mean double the change, right? But there was no change from when you weren’t in the mirror to when you were. 

At first, you thought it must’ve been a prank from your older brother, but one look in the bathroom mirror told you that this was something else. It took you about half an hour before you somehow managed to become visible again, but when you did, you walked into the kitchen to find everything the same as it was the night before. No one hung streamers around the house or left a card on the counter, but that was okay. That was okay because you had a gift.

---

On your twenty-seventh birthday, you were recruited to be an Avenger. Three years ago on that exact day, you had quit your office job and joined SHIELD, only as a trainee, but you made your way through the ranks. You had the advantage of a mastered superpower—turning invisible came useful on the countless days you wished the world would just swallow you whole—but you still had to learn to use it like an agent. You were never remarkable, never being praised as the top of your class nor critiqued as one of the worst. You were always in the middle. Always just… there.

But Fury had seen something in you, and now here you were, packing your things to move into the Avengers Tower. You honestly weren’t sure what he saw in you; no one did. There were other SHIELD agents with far more useful powers and much better combat skills, yet he had picked you and no one else, making you the third SHIELD agent to join the Avengers since Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

You looked around the empty apartment, scanning for something you and your imperfect vision might have missed, but saw nothing. Was that what others saw when they looked at you, thinking they had packed the whole room while you were standing right in front of them, arms waving in their face and voice begging for them to acknowledge you? No matter. Fury had told you Natasha would be picking you up at 2, meaning you had just over thirty minutes before she got here. Life moved on, and so would you.

Just like in years prior, there were no claps on the back, shiny bows, or patterned gift wrapping, but that was okay. That was okay because you had gotten the gift to protect and serve others.

---

You laid into the punching bag, twenty-eight non-stop uppercuts for your new age as of today. You brushed one hand across your forehead to interrupt the sweat droplets that ran from your hair, Bruce doing his best to praise you in the meantime.

“Good work, Y/N, yeah. Um, stronger than the ones you’ve been doing in the past. Better form too. I think.” You were sure you weren’t meant to hear his last sentence, but a roll of Natasha’s eyes next to you was enough to make you laugh it off. It wasn’t like you could blame him. Training others wasn’t his forte. You weren’t even sure if he trained himself.

Fury’s interest in you had been short-lived, it seemed. To be fair, you were lucky he recruited you in the first place and even luckier that he let you stay on the team. Still, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed in how you turned out to just be a new puppy to him. With your novelty now wearing off, you became the responsibility of people like Bruce, who never quite wanted you in the first place.

You had nothing against the gentle and kindhearted scientist, but Steve, Nat, or even Clint would’ve been much more obvious choices. Yet somehow the scientist was who Fury appointed. Maybe he was just the only one who accepted the task, the only one not bold enough to deny Fury’s orders outright. Strangely enough, Nat always showed up, but you weren’t entirely sure why, seeing as she usually sat there silently for most of it. She’d occasionally lean in to whisper something to Bruce, but she rarely said anything to you.

Much to Bruce’s—and maybe Natasha’s—relief, Tony strutted into the gym, his charisma already filling in the awkward gaps between you guys that never seemed to disappear, no matter how much time passed.

“Bruce, Nat, just the people I was looking for! It was great to see you guys at the party last night.” You pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose before going back to the punching bag; obviously, he was not here to speak with you. As you beat into the bag, getting lost in the rattling of the chain and the rhythm of the combinations, you thought back to last night, when you heard the Avengers’ laughter as they prepared for the gala.

-

You sat in the living room watching a movie with the tiniest but fiercest hope that someone might see you and ask you to come along. This was a party for the Avengers, after all, to celebrate the success of a mission that you had been part of. It had been up to you to cut the power and incapacitate the leader. Somehow the credit had gone to Clint, all the news stations celebrating the archer and his amazing feat. It was fine, whatever, just another chip to brush off of your shoulder—a teeny, tiny chip, really, honestly probably more of a scratch—but you thought you would’ve at least been invited to the party. Yet there you were, your posture slowly drooping as you sank into the leather sofa while your teammates gathered in the elevator to head up to the party. You had taken your phone out and opened the camera app, checking to make sure you hadn’t somehow triggered your invisibility, but, nope, you were very much there. The tears that fell were very much there.

-

“Alright, Tony, I’ll be there for Movie Night tonight, but you gotta go. I need to get back to my training duties.” It was then that Tony finally seemed to realize your presence, turning around with a surprised look on his face.

“Oh, hey, Y/N. You, um, you should come tonight too.” All of his charm was gone, the relaxed smile only hanging on by the tiniest lift of the corner of his mouth. So you did your best to reassure him with a small nod. The smile came back immediately. All was well; Tony Stark does indeed have a heart.

-

Later that night, as you sat alone on the three-person couch, you drew the blankets closer to you. The same movie you had watched last night was playing on the TV. The original plan had been to watch Jaws, but Sam was delighted to find the DVD box to Space Jam on the coffee table, insisting that he’d been wanting to watch it again and how it was such a coincidence it was already out. He wasn’t saying that last night when you asked if anyone wanted to watch it with you, but at least you weren’t watching it alone this time. You looked around at the small groups the Avengers had formed on the other couches, some of them even sitting on the floor—there wasn’t enough space, you guessed—before letting out a sigh. There were no party hats or festive noisemakers, but that was okay. That was okay because… A tap on your knee brought you back to the present moment. You looked down to find the outstretched arm of a familiar redhead, a bowl of popcorn in her hand.

There was no time for wallowing in self-pity. That was okay. You were okay.

---

The harsh sunlight woke you up in time for your thirtieth birthday. Or maybe it was the stiff and lumpy mattress that did it. Either way, you were hoping you’d be able to sleep through it. The rational side of you knew that wasn’t possible—what with being on the run from the US government and all—but one can always hope, right?

You’d stuck with Natasha during the Avengers’ split, pushing for the team to stay together even though you’d never really been part of the team. It wasn’t about you though; you’d seen the amazing things the Avengers could do when they were together. The world needed them.

Well, that line of thinking got you here, in a small cabin in the woods with all the Avengers who had followed Steve, Natasha joining the group later. Happy birthday to you. Although to be fair, it wasn’t like any of your past birthdays had been much better. Once your childish naivety had faded away (which probably took much longer than it should have), the day became something you dreaded, something you hoped each year you would forget about but never quite could. This time, though, you had a small plan. It was going to be different this year.

-

Your knees cracked as you stood, announcing to no one in particular that you were heading off to bed. Rather than heading straight down the hall to your room, though, you cut through the kitchen and grabbed a few things.

Your shoulders dropped slightly as you closed the door, and you allowed yourself to study the contents of your hands: a lighter, candle, and one of the leftover store-bought cupcakes from Steve’s birthday. The cupcakes weren’t great, but no one had the time, energy, or ingredients to make a cake, and, let’s be honest, most of the people here couldn’t bake anyways. Plus, this one had frosting in your favorite color, so you couldn’t complain, especially since it was more than you’d had for your birthday since you could remember.

The wooden bed frame creaked as you shifted to place the candle in the frosting and light it. For the first time that day, you were grateful the windows had no curtains, as they allowed you to see the stars that dotted the sky.

“Happy birthday,” you murmured to yourself, your eyes never leaving the constellations, instead darting around to watch in awe as more and more of the twinkling lights showed up the longer you cared to look.

Just as you tore your eyes away to blow out the candle, a knock rang out against the door. Were you guys spotted? Did you have to leave? You immediately ran to open the door, running through a list of things you’d have to pack the second you heard the order. You weren’t exactly surprised to see Nat standing outside your door, but you were surprised to see her holding a small rectangular box and a bottle of champagne.

“Hey, um, sorry to interrupt.” Your cheeks immediately heated up when you noticed her eyes dart to the cupcake still in your hand. You must’ve forgotten to put it down in your rush to open the door. At least the candle’s flame had gone out. “I get it if you don’t want to celebrate with anyone, but I figured you still deserve a treat on your special day.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed as your head tilted slightly.

“What special day?”

“Um, well, isn’t it your birthday?” You nodded, still not quite understanding what she was asking. Not to mention, the spy’s continued use of filler words surprised you. Sure, the two of you hadn’t interacted with each other much, but a lack of familiarity didn’t usually make her this uneasy. Were you really that invisible that she felt uncomfortable around you despite having known you for three years? But you couldn’t dwell on it with Nat speaking again, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “And, um, I noticed the only alcohol you drink is champagne, so… this is for you.”

You stepped back slightly as she nudged the objects towards you, but the spy misunderstood you, taking your surprise as an invitation to enter the room. Before you knew it, you were asking her to sit next to you on the mattress. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, though; keeping her standing would be rude, and there were no chairs in your room. The two of you sat at least a foot apart, both of your spines straight and neither of you quite meeting the eyes of the other.

“So, um, do you want to open the present first or have your cupcake? Or we can open the champagne if you want.”

“This is a present?” You eyed the brown box she held in her hand. You weren’t sure what it could be. Based on its size, maybe a watch or a pocket knife? But Natasha laughed, simply pushing the box towards you.

“Of course it’s a present. Open it!” So you set the cupcake down on the unstable bedside table, making sure the dessert wouldn’t fall due to the furniture having one leg shorter than the rest. You cast one last glance at Natasha, who gave you a reassuring yet pointed nod, and with that, you lifted the cover. 

It took everything in you to prevent the tears springing in your eyes from overflowing. You lifted the goggles with shaking hands. You had to touch them to make sure they were real, to make sure this wasn’t some sick and twisted dream your brain had forced on you to make you remember how disappointing your past birthdays had been.

“Do you like it?” The blonde asked you softly, her lower lip caught in between her teeth. Had you been thinking clearly, you would’ve been surprised at how apprehensive she sounded, how unsure she was. “I thought it could be something you might want to wear on missions. I noticed your other ones kept slipping down or breaking, and um…” Both of you became antsier as Natasha rambled on, you at how she was being more intimate with you than anyone ever had, and she at how she just couldn’t seem to stop talking despite the fact that, in her opinion, she was digging herself into an increasingly deeper hole. “It’s a lot more sturdy, and there are some other features that I think you’ll appreciate. I had Tony and Bruce make it for you… before, you know, this whole thing happened. And I brought it with me when I left.”

The frames reminded you much of the glasses you had first wanted as a kid, the ones your mother had looked past in favor of the plain black ones. They matched your combat suit, though, even having a small carving of your symbol on the side. You nodded as you choked down a sob, forcing yourself to meet the former assassin’s gaze to try to thank her properly.

“I love it, Natasha. Thank you so much. I- it’s… it’s amazing.” Nat dipped her head as if to nod, but you didn’t miss the way her cheeks flushed red or how a hint of her characteristic smirk appeared.

“Of course. It’s the least I could do.” Your eyes returned to the glasses in your hand. You’d try them out the second Natasha left. “So, cake now?”

“Yes, right, of course,” you nodded immediately, shaking your head at how you had managed to forget about the one thing you had planned to do for your birthday. Before you could reach for the frosted dessert, Natasha relit the candle and handed the cupcake to you as she began to sing “Happy Birthday.” When she reached the last note, you could hold it in no longer, and all the tears immediately began to flow.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Is my singing really that bad?” The redhead wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or move away as she ran a hand through her hair, but she felt slightly comforted when she noticed you shaking your head.

“No, no, it’s just…” Natasha hesitantly began to rub your back in an effort to calm your sobs, “No one’s ever sang that for me before.”

“Ever?” She winced slightly at how her voice cracked, betraying her emotions to you despite her attempts to remain composed.

“Well, there used to be a video of it from my third birthday, but… I was three. So I don’t really remember it.” Natasha thought back to the many birthday celebrations the team had held, none of them being for you. The door to your room was always closed on your birthday. She’d always thought you had just gone out with friends and family, people outside of the Avengers, and who was she to get in the way of you and those you loved? But it had been the opposite. You had been hiding away in your room, and she hadn’t helped matters at all by waiting for three years to do anything. If only she’d gained the courage earlier, she could’ve helped ease your pain much sooner.

But all you saw through your tears was the way her head was cocked to the side, her spy training paying off as you couldn’t even begin to predict what she might be thinking. Your confusion slowed your tears somewhat, but that didn’t last for long as your mind shifted gears. You were ever the fool for sharing something so vulnerable with someone you barely knew.

So it was much to your surprise when Natasha finally reached her hand toward you, using her thumb to brush off the last few tears that made their way down your cheeks.

“You’ve never been invisible to me, Y/N. I see you. Always.” And with that, without responding, you turned away from her with a sniff to blow out the candle. “What’d you wish for?” the spy asked lightly, hoping the joke would help lift your mood.

“Nothing. This was more than I could’ve ever asked for.” Nat nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on you as she reached to take out the candle. Your eyes remained on the cupcake as if it would be ripped away from you if you turned away for a second. With her hand returned to your back, you began to dig into the cupcake, your eyes closing as you savored the taste. A cupcake just for you, on your birthday. Sure, it was a leftover cupcake, the frosting a bit too sweet and the cake itself dry and somewhat stale, but that didn’t matter. It was still the first in thirty years. 

-

That night, you lay in bed with the stars overhead, a smile on your face as you thought about the day’s events, your best birthday ever.

And maybe it was naive of you to believe what Natasha had told you earlier that day—it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind several times in the few hours since she told you that—but then you thought about the champagne and the glasses she’d given you. You thought about the way she’d examined your apartment with you one last time before she brought you to the Avengers Tower, about the way she gave you an encouraging smile during training when you became exhausted with Bruce’s cluelessness, about the way she’d shared her popcorn on movie nights with you and only you.

And in the room next to you, Natasha thought about your confusion, your tears, and the way desperation, hope, and amazement filled your face when you looked at her right before you blew out the candle. It was then that she made a vow to herself, to show you that you’d never be invisible, especially not to her.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” she whispered, “You are seen.”

-----

🏷 : @vancityfire13 @007giu

[dancingazaleas]

zeke yeager | pta meeting

i literally don’t know how to shut up about him

also this is all because i saw a drabble of dilf!zeke and it’s been on my mind nonstop

warnings/notes: dilf!zeke, fem!reader, cursing, eventual smut, zeke is a divorced/widowed dad(at 33), reader is 21, cursing, zeke has a mean daughter and a sweet daughter, breeding kink, overstimulation, brief choking, slight degradation, shit one shot i’m sorry

you swear to the lord that zeke’s 11 year old daughter is a menace to society.

she’s brutally honest, just like zeke, and mean. she’s oddly mature for her age, and you think it might have something to do with her late mother. she looks almost nothing like zeke, but she certainly inherited her personality from him. she’s got curly dark brown hair that ends at her armpits and zeke’s grey eyes. she has a button nose along with rosy cheeks, something else she inherited from her mother.

“y’know my daddy only dates you cause you take care of me and aloisia,” isolde says to you as she slips on her school shoes.

you feel your eye twitch as you turn to zeke’s other daughter, aloisia, who’s seven and looks exactly like zeke. she’s got his nose, his hair color, and even eye shape. she’s got hazel eyes and a slim face. she’s as bubbly as they come, always greeting people she passes by on the street, always making friends at the park.

“i’m ready,” she holds up her small hand to you, a silent request for you to hold her hand.

“same,” isolde stands up after she swings her back pack onto her back, brushing off the nonexistent dirt on her navy blue skirt.

“zeke, the girls are ready!!” you shout out, taking aloisia into your arms.

zeke comes stumbling out of his bedroom, a white sleep shirt covering his torso and grey sweatpants.

“you’re going in that,” you raise an eyebrow at his attire, “we’re going to a parent-teacher meeting, not the gym.”

“yeah daddy, my teachers are gonna think you’re a bum or something,” isolde snickers.

“i’ll help your dad, go watch tv for a little bit longer,” you chuckle at zeke’s pout and put down aloisia, who runs to the couch.

isolde takes off her backpack and joins her sister on the couch, putting her feet on the coffee table as aloisia puts on avatar: the last airbender.

“i thought the dress code was casual,” zeke furrows his brows as you take his hand and lead him back into his bedroom.

“it is. sweatpants are not casual, they’re lounge wear,” you snicker as he flops onto the bed while you close the door and go into the closet.

you know zeke’s rolling his eyes at you, judging from his silence. you grab ahold of a white button up with light grey vertical stripes on it, trying to picture your boyfriend in the shirt. you shake your head and put it back on the rack, deciding that the default outfit would be best for now. you take a white button up off the hanger and grab a pair of black dress pants from his dresser. you hand him a pair of black loafers to go along with it and some long black socks that would cover up his ankles, you’re so glad you reminded him that they exist. you throw a black belt next to him as well.

“this is boring.”

“zeke, this is a pta meeting, the whole thing will be boring,” you watch him rid himself of his shirt.

“should i wear a tie?”

“no, you’ll look better with one button undone,” you smile as he struggles to balance correctly when he puts on his pants.

he tucks the shirt inside his pants and slips on the belt with ease. he unbuttons a button before he slips on his socks.

“i thought today was my day off,” he smirks at you while you roll up his cuffs a bit.

you roll your eyes and he slips on his shoes. he doesn’t need to do his hair, it’s just effortlessly neat.

“time to go,” you scurry to the front door with the girls following behind you.

“he doesn’t look homeless anymore,” isolde notes when zeke follows you all out of the door.

“not funny,” he huffs while he locks the door behind him and the girls get into the black SUV zeke drives.

you help aloisia buckle herself up in the car seat and then slip into the passenger’s seat next to zeke. he’s grumbling something about ‘uncle eren’ and ‘getting the girls’ as he turns the car on.

————

you try to ignore the women ogling zeke as you all walk down the school hallway. you send isolde off to her class since her meeting is after aloisia’s.

“i hope you’ve been good,” you say to aloisia, who’s holding both your’s and zeke’s hands.

“i have! ms greene says i’m one of the best,” she gloats, and you hope for zeke’s sake that ms greene isn’t bluffing.

you three walk into the second grade classroom, which is empty because you reserved the appointment, only to find the teacher isn’t in there. it only seems to make aloisia more excited as she tugs you and zeke towards the class wall with a bunch of pictures of it.

“look, look!!” she jumps as she points at her’s, “they said to draw our family and she said i did a good job!!”

the picture is a messily drawn family portrait of zeke, isolde, and aloisia.

“you drew (name) very pretty,” zeke smiles at you when you snap your head back to look at the picture in closer detail.

there you are, stick figure holding hands with zeke’s and aloisia with isolde on zeke’s other side. you never expected to be on aloisia’s family portrait, you’d barely been in her life for two years and weren’t exactly motherly. you’re a struggling college student that she occasionally sees crying at the kitchen table with zeke comforting you from behind. she, on very rare occasions, sees you come home, absolutely plastered, with a sober zeke leading you to his room. you’re the woman that wakes her up when you cry on the couch late at night. you were, admittedly, okay with not being seen as their mom.

it wasn’t your place, for so many reasons. one, you didn’t exactly act as a role model. two, you could never replace her mother and would never try. three, zeke never referred to you as such. you’d only ever act like their mother whenever you were in certain situations. but that didn’t mean you didn’t want them to see you as a maternal figure.

it made you want to cry, but luckily you didn’t. you just smile at the picture and pat aloisia’s head in approval.

“you did do a very good job,” you smile down at her and before you can give her a hug, you notice a woman walking into the room.

“oh, you must be zeke yeager, aloisia’s dad! i’m ms greene,” her face flushes while she holds out her hand for him to shake.

“yea, that’s me. it’s nice to meet you,” he shakes her hand.

she turns to you, “oh my goodness, i didn’t know aloisia and isolde had an older sister!”

“no, she’s my girlfriend of two years,” zeke chuckles uncomfortably.

“i’m (name), nice to meet you,” you wave your hand, “i’m just here to keep an eye on aloisia while you two talk.”

zeke and her go to a table in the corner of the room and aloisia drags you towards a bookshelf.

thirty minutes of aloisia rambling about her favorite book go by seemingly quick, and you watch as she cheers when her classmates walk into the room. zeke’s walking towards you, holding a thumbs up with a cocky smile, for whatever reason.

you kiss aloisia goodbye, who doesn’t seem too fazed, and head towards isolde’s classroom. you hold hands with zeke while swinging them back and forth while he repeats everything the teacher’s said to him.

“i can’t believe my little girl’s at a third grade reading level,” he exclaims, “that vocabulary studying did wonders!!”

“you should thank me since i was the one who studied with her cause she asked about my assignments for class,” you taunt and laugh when zeke pulls you closer by the shoulder.

that’s how the two of you walk into isolde’s classroom. she’s sitting at a table with her teacher, miss dunst, and fidgeting with her thumbs anxiously. she’s covering half of her face with her hair. with the one eye you can see it looks puffy and her cheeks are red, as if she’d been crying.

it has both you and zeke rushing to sit down on both side of her, zeke asking miss dunst what happened while you tend to isolde.

“hey, why are you crying,” you’re squatting by her chair and you reach to brush the hair out of her face.

when you see her other eye, you gasp out at the black eye starting to form on her eye.

“oh my god, zeke, look at her face!!”

“that is what i wanted to speak about with you. isolde has been getting bullied by some of her classmates. today, a little girl hit her after isolde defended herself while they argued,” the poor woman looks sad watching you and zeke check isolde for more wounds.

“why has she been bullied? she’s not mentioned this to me or (name),” zeke asks while examining her eye more closely.

“well, during the first day of school, isolde introduced herself and told the class about her family. she mentioned you, mr yeager, and her sister. the kids asked about her mother before i could stop them and she was honest with them and said that she had passed. she then said that she still, in a way, had a mother. your girlfriend, mr yeager.

“i asked her occupation, to which isolde said a college student. the kids got loud but i managed to quiet them down, and i thought it was the end of that. after that, her classmates started to pick on her verbally about your age gap and her late mother. i didn’t find out about it until this morning when isolde was hit,” miss dunst frowns as she explains.

before zeke could open his mouth, you speak up, “i’m the girlfriend, (name). i am hoping that these children will be punished accordingly and that their parents be notified. if this has really been going on all year like you say, then at this point their parents should be involved.”

“of course! i’m giving all of their parents a call after classes today. the little girl who hit her is sitting down with the principal right now, so she should be safe if you two would like her to stay at school.”

“give us a moment,” you smile kindly, which she returns, and walks to her desk to give you ‘privacy’.

“isolde, why didn’t you tell your daddy or i about what was going on,” you ask while she hugs zeke.

she peeks her head out of his chest, “didn’t want to seem weak.”

“why would you be worried about that,” zeke asks.

“after mom died, you were always so sad and stressed. i thought that if i was strong, you would be happier,” she explains shakily.

“isolde, look at me,” you put a hand on her knee, “you were six years old when your mommy died. six year olds shouldn’t know how to accurately take care of themselves, it’s why your daddy was there. i’m sure your daddy appreciated the effort, but i promise you that all he wanted you to be was his happy little girl. you don’t need to be strong at 11 years old, and you don’t need to be strong all the time. like you said, your daddy was sad when your mom died. it didn’t make him weak, it made him a person. and that’s what you are; a person. a little person.”

she sniffles and nods at you, “people can’t do everything by themselves. i’m sorry if we made it feel like you couldn’t tell us, and it’s totally understandable that you felt that way.”

zeke hums in agreement, “we love you, baby. so much.”

“love you too,” she mumbles with a small smile.

“do you want to stay at school,” zeke asks, he didn’t want to force her into a situation where she didn’t want to be.

“i have a math test later, don’t wanna miss it,” she sighs, now looking up at you.

“(name)...?”

you tilt your head while you wait for her answer.

“i’m sorry i’ve been so mean to you. everyone was making fun of me and called it weird, so i guess i wanted to believe that too,” your heart warms whenever she looks away shyly.

great, now zeke’s horny from seeing you act motherly.

————

ever since you and zeke had stepped off school campus, one of his hands was always touching you. it didn’t matter where, zeke was shameless.

even as you unlock the door to the his house, he has his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around your waist. his lips are kissing softly at your neck and his hands are shamelessly groping at your boobs.

“zeke, what is up with you,” you laugh whenever you open the door, kicking off your shoes immediately.

“horny,” he admits, swiftly following after you and locking the door behind himself.

“what about this morning made you horny,” you ask shyly while you sit on the couch.

zeke’s buttons are halfway undone and his belt is somewhere on the floor. he squeezes in behind you, once again pressing his chest against your back.

“acting maternal, i guess,” his beard tickles the back of your neck as he kisses it.

“is this why you told isolde it was okay if she wanted to stay at school,” you snicker at his fingers pulling your shirt over your head.

“why else,” he scoffs, “my only day off in a while and i’m horny. sounds like a deal.”

you whimper whenever he starts biting at your neck and when his large hands slip under your bra.

“zeke, if we’re gonna do it on the couch, can i at least lay on my back,” you ask while zeke unclips your bra.

without a word, he’s thrown you onto the couch on your back and climbing on top of you seconds later. your hands quickly unbutton the rest of his shirt, pushing it halfway off of his body.

zeke throws the shirt onto the floor and kisses you, hands running up and down your torso. he pulls away to kiss and suck at your neck while his hands grope at your tits. you’re stuck between laughing and moaning at zeke’s beard dragging against your neck.

his mouth trails down to your tits, mouth attaching to your left tit while he continues to grope your right one. you let out a moan whenever he tweaks your nipple with his right hand and bites softly at your left nipple.

he pulls away from your chest, tugging off your pants and panties in frustration. it leaves you laughing and assisting him. whenever your pants do come off, he throws them to the ground and spreads your legs.

“zeke, they’re not opening too far, we’re on a couch,” you note, but soon stand corrected as zeke grabs your ankle and puts it on the back of the couch.

“nevermind,” you snicker at his cocky smirk, as if he’d done something amazing.

your other leg hangs off the couch, leaving you spread open for zeke. zeke spreads open your glistening folds with thumbs and gives a mindful lick up to your clit. after realizing that his beard is not rubbing against you uncomfortably, he dives in like it’s a pool, which he thinks it is because of how wet you are.

his mouth his sucking on your clit vigorously, as if he were a man starved. you’re moaning wantonly as he suddenly ups the speed. how did he even go that fast, you have no clue, but either way you enjoy it. your back in arching off of the couch and your toes are curling as zeke starts bringing you closer to an orgasm.

“zeke!! i’m... i’m gonna come,” you tug at his hair as your legs start to convulse and close around his head.

he only goes faster, and you wonder to yourself if zeke is powered by batteries or something. but the thought is quickly shut off whenever you finally orgasm, moaning out in ecstasy and throwing your head back against the couch cushions.

zeke slows down his pace, helping you ride through your orgasm. he pulls away whenever you’ve calmed down, fingers immediately pressing at your tight entrance.

“zeke... i-i’m too sensitive,” your complaint goes ignored as two of zeke’s fingers are suddenly inside of you.

“don’t care, deal with it,” he huffs as his fingers stretch you out.

with his other hand, his thumb is rubbing at your puffy clit at the same time of his fingers curling inside of you. your hips buck up with a mewl and zeke chuckles at the sight. unlike last time, he’s moving his tantalizingly slow.

his fingers curl once more, rubbing against the spongy part inside of you sweetly. you buck your hips up again at the contact and curl your toes whenever zeke starts abusing that spot with overwhelming speed. curling his fingers against the spot each time he pistons his fingers in and out of you.

“zeke!!” you come again while moaning his name and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants.

zeke chuckles when he pulls his fingers out, spreading them apart to watch your juices stick together in strings. he plops the fingers in his own mouth, rubbing his other hand up and down your quivering thigh as he pulls away from your sloppy cunt.

he pulls his fingers out of his mouth with an obnoxious ‘pop’ and pulls off his pants and boxers at the same time. he groans at his cock hitting against his lower stomach.

you stare at zeke’s cock. the tip is flushed with a bashful pink and his hair is trimmed nicely against his groin. he’s more girth than he is length, a whopping 6.5 inches, which is something he absolutely gets arrogant about.

“hurry,” you huff while watching zeke fist his cock.

“nah, you gotta beg for it, baby,” the corner of his mouth tugs upwards as he watches you wipe away your tears from the previous orgasm.

“zeke,” you whine and wiggle your hips, “please please please give me your cock. need it so bad.”

he hums thoughtfully, and it already gives you his answer.

“please... i want it so bad, need to be fucked by you,” you pout but perk up at his dismissive shrugging.

“since you want it so bad,” he’s laughing while he puts his right hand on your pelvis and his other on his shaft to enter you.

you gasp at the feeling of him pushing inside of you, grabbing for his, now, free hand. when you catch his hand, you guide it to your bruised neck for him to grasp on. he’s chuckling once again, fingers lightly squeezing against your throat as he continues to push himself in.

he groans whenever he bottoms out, letting go of your neck to grab at your plush thighs. he pushes the towards your chest and thrusts into you shallowly after he spits on his cock buried in your pussy. he hits you deeper than he would’ve before, that much is obvious by your moans raising octaves when he starts to thrust roughly.

your hands reach up to grab the back of his thighs to pull him closer to you than before. he’s groaning at the feeling of your pussy squeezing onto him each time he pulls out and thrusts back into you.

“fuck... zeke!!” you cry and throat your head back.

“fuck,” he grunts, “you’re so fuckin’ tight. even after how much i fuck this pretty little cunt each week.”

his words make you whimper and squeeze your grip on his thighs, making crescent moons into the skin.

“i’m gonna come... i’m gonna come again,” you pant out, back already starting to arch, “come with me please..!”

he speeds up his thrusts, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass getting increasingly louder as he does so.

“you wanna come with me so badly,” he asks tauntingly while you nod.

“god, zeke, please,” you try to ignore the saliva and tears on your face as you continue to scream out for zeke.

“i’ll give my sweet girl my cum since she asked so nicely,” he’s biting his lip whenever he feels his orgasm getting closer.

“yes! yes! please,” you sound so desperate as your orgasm gets closer, “zeke, please, fuck a baby into me, please..!”

zeke almost comes right then at your pleas, but ends up stilling and adjusting his stance to thrust into you more efficiently. the sudden stop makes you whine but it’s soon interrupted with a gasp as he jackhammers into you harder and faster than before.

“fuckin’ whore, wanting me to fuck a baby into you. to make you a mom. since you asked so nicely, i’ll oblige,” he berates.

“you me to fuck a baby into you? make you a mom?” it has you nodding frantically.

zeke continues to degrade you as you’re orgasm comes rushing towards you, fingers now clawing at his thighs as a signal.

zeke thrusts into you two more times before the two of you manage to orgasm simultaneously. his jackhammering slows into a grind, helping the two of you ride out the euphoria you’ve both just went through.

you whimper whenever he pulls out, uncomfortable at the sudden emptiness in you. he watches his cum start to dribble out of you, telling you to keep your legs up. he scurries off to find a paper towel or something to wipe it up with before it falls onto the couch. you shiver whenever you feel a wet cloth wipe away the dribbling cum.

he’s wiping down your chest and neck as well with a clean side of it after you put your legs down. he carries you off into his bathroom, sitting you on the counter while he readies the shower.

“i can’t believe you said that,” he raises a questioning eyebrow at you while he checks the water’s temperature.

“i wouldn’t mind having your kid,” you shrug and watch him put two towels on the counter next to you.

“i might just give you one, don’t say that,” he jokes as he starts to hug you.

“‘m okay with that,” you sigh and lean into his touch, enjoying his warmth.

“you’re stupid,” he snorts and kisses at your shoulder.

“only for you,” you snuggle your head into his neck with a giggle.

“i love you,” he sighs.

“i love you. enough to have your kids.”

maybe in a few hours when you weren’t bathing in the afterglow, zeke would bring it up to you.

[cloudybarnes]

the reveal

Pairing: peter parker x bestfriend!reader

Summary: after years of being friends, y/n wants to tell peter just how she feels. the night she decides to tell him, she walks in on him in his spider-man suit and suddenly second guesses if it’s the right time

Word Count: 2.7k+

Warnings: one curse word 

A/N: added in some platonic interactions with ned and y/n cause why not :)

Masterlist

✰  ✰  ✰ 

“I think I just failed our math test.” You huffed as you dropped your lunch tray onto the table. 

Peter and Ned left an open spot between them for you to squeeze into. 

“Honestly, I don’t see how you could have failed this test, (Y/N).” Peter chuckled.

“Yeah,” Ned agreed, “if you think you failed this test, then I don’t even want to know what I got.”

That made you laugh. “Okay, maybe not failed, but definitely not my best. I feel like I know what we’re learning, but it’s hard to do on paper, you know?”

Peter nodded his head. 

“Whatever,” you chuckled, “let’s talk about something else. What are we doing after school?”

Peter whipped his head to you, “we had after school plans?”

“Well not exactly, but it’s Friday so I thought we could do something fun.”

Ned agreed, “Yeah, plus we haven’t all hung out in a while.”

Peter sighed, “Guys, I have that Stark thing tonight remember? I can’t just abandon my internship.”

You pout and poke Peter’s arm, “but all you ever do now is go to your internship. It’s like Ned and I don’t even see you anymore, Pete.”

“She’s right. You were so busy last weekend, (Y/N) and I had to go to the opening of her sister’s dance recital all by ourselves.”

“I mean, I understand why he didn’t want to go to that one. It was a nightmare.” You chuckled. 

Peter sighed, “Listen, I’m really sorry I’ve missed a lot. I’ll make it up to you guys, I promise.”

“So... tonight?” You asked hopefully. “I swear, we will make it worth the time of the all mighty Peter Parker.” You teased as you bumped your shoulder with Peter’s.

He nervously chuckled, “Y-yeah! Okay, um, yeah, tonight.”

You giggled, noticing a new warmth to his cheeks. “So, what time do you get done?”

“Get done?” He repeated.

“You know, your internship.” Ned reminded him.

Peter gasped, “Oh, right! Right, my internship. Um, actually it might be late, are you sure you want to do it tonight?”

You shrugged, “It’s the weekend, I’m sure my parents won’t mind. Please Peter, we haven’t hung out in forever! The internship is eating up your social life!” You chuckled.

Ned gasped, “oh my god, we should totally have a sleepover at Peter’s tonight! I can bring some comics and movies for us.”

You cheered, “Yes! That would be so fun!” You noticed Peter looked a little awkward from the conversation. “Unless, you just don’t want to hang out, which is totally okay! Ned and I could always ju-”

“No!” Peter yelled.

He looked around the cafeteria, embarrassed. He cleared his throat. “I-I mean, no, I do want to hang out with you guys tonight. I think I should be getting back around ten, so you guys can come to my place.”

Ned gasped, “Peter, you work that late and you’re not even getting paid?”

He chuckled nervously, “well, yeah. I just really like working for Mr. Stark, so I don’t mind it.” Peter wiggled around awkwardly, almost like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Peter’s hand rested on his leg, and you placed yours on top of his. He looked up at you, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. 

You gave his hand a squeeze. “Peter, you’re my best friend. I can see how you’re acting right now. If you don’t want to hang out tonight, that’s totally understandable. We get how important this is to you, and we wouldn’t want to get in the way of your opportunity.”

Peter’s face softened into one with a smile. He squeezed your hand back, “thanks (Y/N), that means a lot. I do want to hang out with you guys, though. We’re going to have a sleepover at my place tonight, and it’ll be fun. I promise.”

Peter cleared his throat, and stood up. “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to use the bathroom real quick.”

Once Peter left, Ned started to chuckle. 

You turned to him and smiled, “what’s so funny?”

“What’s funny is how obvious it is that you have a thing for Peter.”

You giggled, “come on Ned, no I don’t.”

Ned shook his head and grinned at you, “I know you do; I just know these things. The way the two of you look at each other is like you’re in some rom com.”

You groan, “okay fine, I do like Peter. And I’m only telling you this because your my best friend, not because I want you to tell him!”

Ned scoffed, “please, of course I’m not going to tell Peter. You should be the one to do it.”

You smiled and lightly pushed his shoulder with your own. “Thanks, Ned. Also, don’t make anything awkward now that you know, okay? Peter will definitely know something is up.”

Ned made an ‘x’ over his chest. “Cross my heart!”

You look away from Ned just in time to see Peter walking back into the cafeteria. He takes his seat next to you and gives you a smile.

“Oh Peter!” Ned said, “I forgot that I have plans tonight already. My mom wanted me to try out this new yoga video with her. She thinks it’ll be a nice way to relax and release tension.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Peter nodded, “we can always hang out some other time.”

“Oh!” Ned gasped, “Well, (Y/N)’s still free tonight. The two of you can have that sleepover still. I’ll lend you my comics.”

“Yeah! That-that sounds cool.” Peter looked at you and smiled, “I’m down if you are.”

You grinned, “Totally! I’ll never turn down the chance to hang out with you.”

Peter blushed at that. 

You smiled at Ned, “Sorry you can’t come! We’ll miss you tonight.” You winked.

Ned chuckled a little, “It’s okay, there’s always next time.”

The bell that signaled lunch was over rang. The three of you stood up.

“Okay, well I’ll talk to you guys later!” You smiled. “See you tonight, Peter.”

He shyly smiled, “yeah, see you tonight.”

✰  ✰  ✰

“I think I’m going to do it tonight.”

School had finished without any excitement other than yours for tonight. You had already eaten dinner, and as the time drew closer to ten, you grew anxious.

You were dramatically sprawled out on your bed, with your phone on FaceTime with Ned. 

His eyes got wide, “Oh. My. God. You’re crazy.”

You quickly sat up, worried now. “Is that actually crazy? Cause I don’t have to; I mean, it might make things weird.”

Ned chuckled. “No, I meant like, crazy as in you’re a bad-ass. I think tonight is the perfect opportunity to tell Peter you like him; and I’m not just saying that because I gave up spending time with you guys so this could happen.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up, walking over to your closet. “I think I’m just going to wear some sweatpants and a comfy top since it’s supposed to be a sleepover. Or do you think I should wear something nicer since I’m going to be telling him I like him?”

Ned shakes his head. “Definitely the sweatpants. If he doesn’t like you in your comfy look, he doesn’t deserve you in your dazzling look.”

You giggled, “you’re right, thanks Ned.”

“I’m here to help. Let me know how things go between you two. I think things will work out like you want.”

You smiled, “I’ll call you tomorrow! Bye, Ned.”

“See ya.”

You hung up the phone, and put your comfortable clothes on. Your bag was already packed with your overnight gear all ready to go.

You picked it up, and slung the bag over your shoulder.

“Mom, dad! I’m headed out to Peter’s now, love you!”

You parents said their goodbye’s, and you were on your way to Peter’s.

The trip was very short; Peter and you lived only a short distance from one another.

Once you were at his front door, you knocked and were greeted by his Aunt May.

“(Y/N)! Oh my gosh, it’s been too long since you’ve been over!” She grinned, pulling you into a tight hug.

Since you and Peter were always so close, May thought of you as a daughter.

“Hi May! It’s great to see you again. Is Peter back from his internship yet? I know I’m a few minutes early.”

She ushered you inside and shut the door. “No, I don’t think Peter’s back yet. I just got out of the shower so he may have snuck in while I was in there. You can wait in his room if you’d like, Peter won’t mind.”

You smiled, “Okay, thank you May.”

You started to walk down the hall into Peter’s room before May stopped you.”Oh, and (Y/N)?”

You turned around, “yeah?”

May softly smiled at you, “don’t be nervous, dear. I’m sure things will work out.”

You lightly laughed, “how did you know?”

She just shrugged with a playful smile.

You grinned, “I’ll try my best, May. Wish me luck!”

You turned back, and headed for Peter’s room.

In your mind, you were trying to plan out exactly what you were going to say to him, and when. You were thinking about waiting a little bit before dumping all of your emotions onto him. Or you’d do it as soon as you saw him just to get it off your chest once and for all.

As you pushed Peter’s bedroom door open, you saw something you never thought you’d witness. Peter was standing, back towards you in the Spider-Man suit. 

When he heard his door creak open, Peter rapidly spun around. His eyes were wide, and his mouth agape. He looked scared and extremely caught off guard that you had just seen him in his outfit.

“Oh, my god.” Is all you could manage.

You stared at Peter with the widest eyes he’d ever seen. Your mouth gobbled open and shut like a fish out of water; you couldn’t find any words to say to him.

He rushed over and pulled you into his room, frantically shutting the door behind you.

“(Y/N)! I didn’t expect you to be here so early.” Peter’s heart was racing. “It’s not what it looks like, I promise.”

You lightly shook your head, “I think it’s exactly what it looks like.” 

You walked around him in a circle like a vulture stalking its prey. “You’re Spider-Man, aren’t you?”

Peter’s mouth opened, then shut as soon as it did, trying to come up with a response to you. When he couldn’t think of anything, he sighed. “Yeah, I’m Spider-Man.”

You gasped. Peter honestly could have told you he was just playing dress up as Spider-Man and you would have believed him, but here he is admitting to being the superhero that had been around the city.

“That is so crazy, Peter!” You grinned. “Oh, my god, I’m friends with Spider-Man!” 

Your face fell, “oh, my god, I’m friends with Spider-Man.” Oh, no. Why did Peter have to reveal himself as Spider-Man tonight of all nights! 

You were freaking out, now. You didn’t want Peter to think you only liked him now that you knew he was Spider-Man! You wanted him to know you liked him for himself, as Peter.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright? I know this can be a lot to take in, but I need you to listen to me.” His eyes were desperate as he tried to talk to you.

You nodded your head and gave him your full attention. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry, this just caught me off guard is all.”

He nodded his head, and placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to tell anyone, especially not like this.”

“So I’m the only one that knows?”

“Well, Mr. Stark knows cause he’s the one that gave me this upgraded suit, but yeah. You’re the only other one.”

“Oh, man. This is crazy.”

“You can’t tell anyone, (Y/N), please. If people find out, things will change for me, and I like my life how it is. I didn’t want to tell anyone because the more people that know, the more people there are that could be in danger.”

You nodded your head, and smiled at him, “Don’t worry, Pete, your secret is safe with me.”

Peter let out a relieved sigh, “I knew I could trust you. Sorry you had to find out this way, though.”

Peter presses a button on his chest that released his suit, leaving him in only his boxers.

You face heated up as you scanned you eyes over his toned chest. “Oh my god.” You quickly spun around to not face him once you realized what you were doing.”

Peter’s cheeks were hot as well. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking when I did that.”

You heard some shuffling around as Peter got changed. 

“You can turn around now.”

You do, and see that Peter is in sweatpants and a sweatshirt with his suit hung up in his closet.

He sat on his bed, and motioned you to sit as well.

You do so, and play with your fingers a little bit, now uncertain if it’s a good time to tell him how you feel. 

“Hey,” Peter said as he grabbed you hand, stopping your nervous fiddling, “talk to me. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, and it’s freaking me out a little.” He nervously chuckled.

You gently smiled and started to mess with his fingers. “I think it’s really cool what you’re doing for the city. I think you’re really brave for all of this.”

Peter smiled at you, “yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m just worried that you could get hurt from this. You know I care about you, right?” You nervously added.

Peter nodded his head with a smile, “I know you care. I promise, I’m being careful out there, don’t worry.”

You lightly smiled, and looked down at your interlocked fingers.

“So, Ned told me something earlier.”

Your head quickly perked up at that. “Oh, did he?”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah, he told me to make sure you tell me the thing you were going to tell me.” He sounded confused. “I don’t really know what he means by that, but he wanted me to make sure you don’t chicken out of it.”

You sighed. “Well, I was going to tell you something, but I don’t know if it’s the right time because of your whole... reveal.” 

“Oh, well I’ll still care about what you have to say. Just because you know I’m Spider-Man, doesn’t mean I’m not still Peter.”

You looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah, you’re still Peter.”

He chuckled, and you took in a breath, trying to calm yourself down.

“Well, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now, and I didn’t really know when a good time would be since you’re always at your internship or we’re hanging out with Ned as well. Not that I don’t like hanging out with Ned! I do, it’s just-”

Peter cut off your rambling by grabbing your face and pressing his lips to yours. You were stunned, to say the least. Peter’s lips were soft and gentle against yours. He made no move to escalate things; it was like all he wanted to do was feel your lips against his.

You finally kissed him back, and brought one of your hands to the side of his face. You rubbed your thumb along his cheek as you kissed, loving the feeling of being so close to him.

When you couldn’t take anymore, you pulled back and took a breath of air. 

Looking at Peter like this was something you had only dreamed of. His lips were red and puffy from your kiss, and his eyes gleamed with excitement. You could only imagine how you looked.

“Was that what you were trying to tell me?” He cheekily remarked.

You giggled, “that was exactly what I was trying to tell you.” 

“Good,” he grinned, “because I really like you, (Y/N), I have for a while now.”

You let out a chuckle, “it’s a good thing I’ve liked you for some time as well.”

Peter bit his lip to try to stop himself from smiling so much. He grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together.

“So, does that mean you’d want to go out with me sometime?” Peter asked, hopefully.

You pretended to think for a minute, then giggled. “Yeah, I’d love to go out with you sometime, but right now I just want to spend our night together like we planned.”

You leaned in closer to Peter, gently pulling him in by the collar of his shirt. 

“I like the sound of that.” Peter gently said, right before you placed your lips on his. 

You have so much to tell Ned tomorrow.

[whythinktoomuch]

ii. apocalypse now & again

(pt. i)

Kara woke up and realized that she was going to die.

Too many of the drones had survived the explosions and were still closing in on her. What little strength she had left after quite literally digging her own grave was presently and painstakingly strained just from her efforts to climb onto her knees. And on top of all that—of everything that possibly could have gone wrong for her in this moment—her helmet was cracked.

The abstract red numbers warning Kara of the kryptonite levels in the area seemed redundant now, what with that unmistakable chill already flooding her bloodstream.

“… Alex,” Kara gasped out, barely able to hear herself over the ringing in her ears. “Hey, Alex… Are you there?”

Her words were met with not one whisper or even a crackle of static, and for once, Kara was inconsolably disappointed to hear no one yelling back at her. With her teeth gritted, she shoved herself off the ground as hard as she could, drifting barely a foot into the air before the first drone crashed into the back of her head.

Kara toppled back onto the ground, knees skidding across the rubble in a shower of hot sparks. The impact had her head reeling, her mouth filling with a taste that she was now idly recognizing as blood. But there was no time to consider any of that as the drone doubled back. Kara scrambled out of the way, narrowly avoiding another collision, only to be struck by a second drone smashing right against her ear.

Out of breath but swearing, Kara whirled around and snagged the fast approaching drone into a bear hug, squeezing and squeezing until it crunched in her arms with a frantic whir. Then with a burst of heat vision, she shattered the other as it came straight for her face.

Kara used her heat vision to pick off several more drones from a distance, but of course, more and more just showed up to take their place, never wavering, never slowing… and eventually, Kara just had to laugh. Because her exhaustion was catching up to her. And Alex was hundreds of miles away. And to get out of here alive, Kara would have to somehow defeat the entire horde of drones, while all they had to do was wreck her suit a little more.

Though admittedly, it’d be overkill at this point, given the crack now spiderwebbing across the glass visor of Kara’s helmet.

Either way, it was over.

--

So, Kara laughed, grabbed at her chest in a reflexive gesture only to meet the unforgiving metal of her suit, then dropped to her knees. “Alex!” she shouted herself hoarse, because maybe if said loudly enough, the words would still be lingering in the air by the time her sister arrived. “Alex, I’m sorry, okay? You were right, and I’m sorry!”

Then she just waited—chest heaving, eyes narrowed but never blinking despite the heat pricking at the corners—because she definitely had to see this through to the bitter fucking end. That much, she owed everyone, including herself.

Except the end didn’t come.

Not this time anyway.

No, instead came a silver sphere, emerging seemingly out of thin air to hover right before Kara’s face. It flashed a blinding white just once, and everything fell absolutely silent and still. Kara’s suit powered down completely, the drones collectively dropped from the air like marionettes with cut strings, and all the lights in the immediate vicinity blinked out.

Laughter welling up all over again, Kara could only collapse onto her side in something akin to sheer relief.

The first person to occur to her, of course, was Alex, who had already saved her ass from similar scrapes on many occasions. But that couldn’t be it. Alex was too far away. It’s why Kara had to take on this mission on her own in the first place.

Then she considered maybe Winn or James, which made even less sense, given how the deceased hardly ever came back to do things like save people’s lives. Not even hers. Not even in the most dire of situations. That’s, unfortunately, just not how life worked these days.

Then she considered Alex again because the kryptonite was clearly bleeding into her brain now, and it was getting rather difficult to remember why it couldn’t have been Alex who’d just saved her. Maybe Kara did shout loud enough after all…

But then, a set of footfalls drew near, metal scraping against metal at a steady pace until a heavy boot struck Kara firmly in the chest, flipping her onto her back where she settled with a grunt.

“So glad I got to you first,” came a self-assured drawl, and Kara promptly found herself face to face with a handheld cannon of sorts. “Would be a pity to come all this way and not get to kill you myself.”

And… Kara’s jaw just dropped.

Not because of the words, nor the intentions behind them—though perhaps they both merited some attention as well—but that voice.

Kara gaped up at her supposed knight in shining, lead-lined armor because her voice—that low, husky tone paired with that very specific lilting cadence—was making her reconsider some very fundamental things about how the world might work.

Namely, that people wouldn’t come back from the dead just to save her life.

Mind still reeling away, Kara tried to sit up, only to be slammed back into the ground, hard.

“Down, girl,” Lena said, grinding her boot into Kara’s chest, the weight of her entire body behind the gesture. But that was fine.

It was fine because Kara could still draw some breath into her lungs, could still use some of that breath to talk, and she could certainly still say some things that she hadn’t uttered aloud in many a year. Like her late wife’s name, for instance.

The cannon in Kara’s face wavered, but didn’t lower. “Shut up,” Lena hissed down at her. “Don’t talk. Don’t even think.”

“So… it is you…” Kara said, and she gently wrapped her fingers around Lena’s ankle—the only part of her that she could still reach from her position—and just cried.

With a startled gasp, Lena stumbled away, wrenching herself out of Kara’s grip. “What the fuck…? What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Kara sobbed out, trying not to choke on her own tears and snot and the slight taste of blood still lingering on her tongue. She suddenly, irrationally, wished that she could just take off her clunky suit. Just to eliminate some of that distance between her and Lena. Just so she could touch the chain hanging around her neck without any hindrance. “Just… just wanted to say, hi.”

Lena kept her distance, studying Kara in a stony silence, and Kara started to see things that she should probably would have noticed sooner if her body weren’t actively shutting down on her. Like the green glow of Lena’s weapon and the kryptonite cartridges strapped to her belt. Or that she was clearly wearing a lexo-suit. Or how the swirly edges of her own vision were starting to darken, and how the chill of kryptonite was currently all she could feel.

“Hey,” Kara called out, sniffling only slightly now. “Am I dreaming?”

“… No.”

Kara nodded thoughtfully to herself. “Okay, cool, cool… So, I think I might be dying then.”

“Yeah,” Lena said, after a brief pause. “Probably.”

“Cool.” Kara tried to flash a thumbs up, but no part of her body wanted to cooperate anymore. Her exhaustion had eaten up all her drive. “Hey, can you tell Alex something for me?”

Lena sighed, but she finally stepped closer, practically in reach. “Okay, sure.”

Kara fumbled for some words and the correct order that one might put them in, but then Lena took off her helmet, and nothing else mattered anymore. Because Kara was perfectly content to just watch that ripple of dark hair, streaked with a light gray that was just… nice to look at.

She never got to see her Lena’s hair do that.

//

Kara’s shoulder was being shaken so violently that she had no choice but to open her eyes and see Alex’s worry-creased face peering down at her.

“Dumbass…” Alex grumbled, releasing Kara’s shoulder with a dirty scowl. “That’s the last time I let you go anywhere without me.”

“Whatever you say, director.” Kara laughed, but it hurt. She then tried to do a salute, but her everything was still too weak to move apparently. But at least she was still alive.

… Wait.

Kara repeatedly tried to sit up on her bed, and Alex repeatedly shoved her right back down until she gave up. But still, she had to check, had to know that it wasn’t all just a dream.

“Where’s Lena?” she demanded, and the look that Alex gave her in response was so deeply pained that Kara almost felt pathetic for asking.

“… Kara.”

“No, I saw her, Alex,” Kara said, shaking her head, then immediately stopping when her entire body somehow got dizzy from it. “Shit. Ow, ow… But wait, no—But seriously, I saw her, okay?”

“I’m not surprised that you did. You almost died, Kara. Actually, I’m pretty sure that you were dead for a few minutes back there. Again, I say, you fucking dumbass.”

“But I didn’t die. Because she saved me,” Kara insisted. “No, seriously! She took out all the drones with some sort of EMP device, and, and… we talked! And she had gray hair, and I think maybe laugh lines? And yeah, I almost died because my helmet got cracked and stuff. But now, I’m here and I’m fine, so… everything’s fine, right?”

Alex frowned, then somehow settled on the least important part of Kara’s briefing, “You cracked your helmet?”

“Ugh, yeah. The glass visor part. When I fell,” Kara said, waving her hand dismissively. “So sorry about that, by the way.”

“Suit looked fine when we got to you,” Alex said with a shrug, before irritably exclaiming, “Jesus christ, Kara, enough! I’ll just have a guy get the helmet for you, okay? So, just stop trying to get up already.”

Huffing, Kara fell back onto her bed with her arms folded and waited. But when someone eventually showed up with her helmet in tow, she was surprised to see that it was somewhat worse for the wear but perfectly intact. Even up close, with the helmet out the tech’s hands and in her own, Kara couldn’t detect even the slightest blemish in the glass.

Pouting ever so slightly, Kara shoved the helmet back into the tech’s arms.

“… Satisfied?” Alex asked, rolling her eyes when Kara just shrugged one shoulder. “Great. Listen… You just need to get some rest, okay? Once you’re back to full strength, we can work through your… you know, memories together. And hopefully, it’ll make more sense by then. Sound good?”

Kara just nodded, suddenly all too willing to be left to her own devices in the relative quiet and darkness. She accepted a gentle shoulder squeeze and the promise of another session with the sun lamps within the hour, and just curled up under the sheets.

It’s not like she hadn’t conjured up images of Lena before. Kara had been close to death enough times that it was only inevitable that she’d fall back onto memories of her dead wife at some point or another. But this was different. Whenever her brain was just playing tricks on her, Lena appeared to her the way Kara remembered her: warm and loving, bright green eyes, long dark hair smelling of lavender, and alive and young.

Never before had Kara encountered an appropriately aged version of Lena, with creases gathered around her eyes and forehead, hair gloriously faded into the most lovely blend of light grays and white amongst all that black… The Lena that could have been if only she had lived out all these past years alongside Kara.

And she was never in a lexo-suit, of all things. Lena was always wearing one of her classic pencil skirts or Kara’s NCU sweatshirt, or something. Oh, and of course, her wedding band.

Instinctively, the same way she always did when it occurred to her, Kara reached for the chain around her neck, seeking out the familiar weight of the rings that hung from there… only to jolt upright with a gasp that dried up her entire throat.

She ripped the necklace off her head, almost snapping the chain, which in and of itself was telling. Because her chain had been forged out of an extraterrestrial metal amalgamation that not even the Girl of Steel would have been able to break. The one now clutched in her hand, however, was just plain white gold.

Heart pounding in her ears, Kara stared down at an engagement ring fitted with a modest cut of diamond, somehow occupying the very spot where two simple wedding bands—hers and her Lena’s—should have been. Then something drove her to check for an inscription, and sure enough, engraved on the inside of the ring was a series of kryptonian characters, denoting a term of endearment that Kara had never used, but apparently could have in another world altogether: my dearest heart.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Once In A Lifetime

Summary: While at a brewery the day before her sister’s wedding, the reader runs into her once in a lifetime fling, Dean, for the third time. It’s been fours years since they’ve seen each other and eight since they met but the timing’s never seemed to work out between them until maybe now...

Pairing: Wedding Date!Dean x reader

Square: Wedding Date!AU

Word Count: 2,100ish

Warnings: language, fluff

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles​​ Tell Me A Story Bingo. Enjoy!

______

“Y/N fucking Y/L/N,” you heard as you were mid chew of eating your piece of pizza. You spun around and swallowed, a big grin crossing your face. 

“Dean!” you said. You ditched your table with your family and ran over to him, Dean giving you a big hug and swinging you around. “You look great!”

“You got even better looking, sweetheart,” he grinned as he set you down. You bit your bottom lip and he blushed a bit. “You look good, Y/N. Never expected to see you again, especially Kansas City of all places.”

“I’m in town for a family wedding. I thought you lived in LA?” you said.

“Used to. I own this place,” he said. “How long’s it been?”

“Four years. Another four before that,” you said. 

“So much for once in a lifetime,” he smirked. 

“Still a boy in there, aren’t you, Dean.”

“A bit,” he smiled. “Older too.”

“Same. We were just kids back then.”

“We’re still kids. We just got most of our shit together now,” he said. 

“Oh yes. Still single and still working a job I hate. I so got my shit together,” you said.

“I wear makeup for a living so you’re doing better than me,” he said. “Also still single.”

“I thought you dated some actress or something a while back.”

“Didn’t work out. Put my head down, been working a lot lately,” he said. “Am I about to meet your fangirl sister you told me about?”

“Oh God,” you said as you caught Georgia wandering over from your table with Scott. “I am so-”

“Hi!” she said and you groaned. “Do you know my little sister?”

“Y/N and I go way back,” said Dean. Georgia slapped your arm and you whined. 

“You’re friends with him and you didn’t tell me!” she said.

“Oh well we haven’t seen each other in years,” said Dean. Georgia looked at you and you shook your head, her own nodding.

“He’s Italy Dean, isn’t he. Dean Winchester is freaking Italy Dean!” she said and Scott covered her mouth, shaking his head.

“Gia, let’s leave your sister to catch up with her friend in peace, hm?” he said.

“This is why I love you Scott,” you said as he dragged her away.

“I like her,” chuckled Dean. “How long you in town for?”

“A few days. Rehearsal dinner is tonight, wedding tomorrow, head home the next day.”

“Not much free time then,” he said.

“Yeah I-” you said before Georgia screamed. You turned around, your sister stomping around and shouting into a phone. 

“It’s tomorrow! They wait until the last minute to call and cancel the venue!” she said. Scott seemed miffed which was probably as angry as he ever got and your mom was already over trying to calm them both down.

“You can use the brewery,” said Dean quietly. He shrugged as you stared up at him. “We’ve been toying with reserving for private parties over on the far side of the property. Strand lights, farmhouse style wedding, yada yada.”

“Can it look like this?” you asked as you pulled out your phone. You showed him a picture of the venue and the style Georgia had wanted to go for. “I can call all the vendors. All we need here is tables, clean up, you get the drill.”

“What time is the wedding?” he asked.

“1. Reception starts at 4, was supposed to go to about midnight or so.”

“You’re the maid of honor I presume.”

“Can we make this work? I know she sounds insane but she’s actually really sweet most of the time.”

“I’m gonna need help setting this up. Might be an all nighter.”

“I like coffee,” you said. He nodded and you turned around. “Gia! Calm down! I got a solution for ya.”

“Hi,” said Dean as you pulled into the employee parking lot at around ten that night. “How’d the dinner go?”

“Fine. Gia’s stressed out so Scott and I got her drunk. I told her I had it handled,” you said. “I have dunkin and my sneakers and put me to work.”

“The guys are nearly done with the lights. I need you to help me with tables and stuff, where you want everything,” said Dean. 

“Alright,” you said. “Do you have a notebook I can borrow?”

“Pad of paper work?” he asked as you followed him into the back of the brewery. You hummed and he handed it over along with a pen. You cut through a side door and found yourself outside, staring at a whole bunch of lights in trees and along a privacy fence.

“Oh she’s gonna love this,” you said as you walked out there. You started to jot down where trees were and drew some tables on the paper, rearranging them a few times before you held it up to Dean. “Can you put the tables like this?”

“Definitely can do. I’ll handle the forklift, you tell me where you want the picnic tables,” he said.

Forty minutes later the tables were out back and you’d laid out some rubber mats to act as a dance floor with one of Dean’s employees. 

“So DJ is there…” you said to yourself as Dean whistled for you to come over to where he and a few guys were laying out the impromptu bar top. “What’s up?”

“We were just wondering how fancy is your sister? Like is it that fairytale farmhouse thing or she like it more rustic?”

“She’s the former. My future brother in law is the later. He’s the one from here,” you said. “I was just thinking we’d throw a table cloth over the top of whatever we use for a bar.”

“We still got that piece we didn’t use in the second room?” said a man.

“The too dark of stain one? Yeah, it’s in storage. I bet that’d work great,” said a different guy. They took off and you took a deep breath as you looked around.

“It’s getting there,” said Dean. “If you want to head back to your hotel I think we can handle the rest.”

“It’s not that late,” you said. “I can do the tables while you guys figure out the bar situation if that’s cool.”

“Alright. Let me know if you want any help, sweetheart,” he said. You crossed your arms and he mimicked you, tilting his head down. 

“Thank you for all of this. Georgia will love it.”

“I’m not doing it for Georgia,” he said with a soft smile. You bit your lip and turned your head, feeling Dean step closer. “If I asked you to stay a few more days, would you?”

“Dean-”

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

“Then stay. Let’s try this for real.”

“I thought you weren’t a commitment kind of guy. That’s what you said.”

“You said there were no strings attached and yet here we are eight years later and I am as smitten as the first time I saw you.” You looked up at him, Dean reminding you of just how easy it was to fall in love with him. 

And how hard it was to fall out of it after the two you went your separate ways. Twice.

“Dean it’s never worked before.”

“We never tried. Italy was the two of us having fun and falling way too hard and fast and it scared the shit out of us both. And your car...that couldn’t have been coincidence. We spent the night in that motel room being goofy and reconnecting and then you got so hard when we said goodbye.”

“It’s kinda hard to get over you.”

“Don’t get over me this time,” he said. “I never did with you.”

“I can’t be with a celebrity and do that stuff.”

“Oh yes, I live a very glamorous life,” he said as he looked around. “Should I get out the forklift again?”

“Dean you know what I mean. You were coming up eight years ago. Four you had fans. Now you got even more. I live in a one bedroom apartment and work on sales reports from my kitchen table.”

“If you work from home then staying down here a few more days shouldn’t be a problem,” he said.

“Dean you’re gonna break my fucking heart again and I don’t want to put it back together. Can we just leave it at friends?” 

“Okay.” He unfolded his arms and cupped your face with both hands, pulling you into a deep kiss. You grabbed onto his shirt and slid your hand up to his face, Dean slow to break it off. “I don’t want to wait another four years.”

“I’ll stay a few days and if I’m not convinced there’s something…” you said as Dean chuckled. “Oh shut up you hopeless romantic.”

You brought your lips to his, moving slowly, Dean’s hands wrapping around to your hip, the nape of your neck, kissing you as gently as he did the first time he had.

“Uh, boss,” said a voice. You stepped away from each other and he grunted. “We got some barrels we could use to rest the top on.”

“Yeah,” said Dean. “Sounds good. Right?”

“Very good,” you said with a nod. “Dean, you uh, mind helping me with the tables?”

“Not at all, sweetheart.”

The Next Evening

“Hey,” you said as you found Dean in a suit, no tie, top collar undone and helping serve some beer from the taproom.

“Hey. You want a glass?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. He poured two and excused himself, heading back with you over towards the reception. “I really can’t thank you enough. My sister loves it even more than the original place.”

“It’s no problem. I’m glad I could help out,” he said. You stopped just outside the reception, Dean smiling as he sipped from his glass. 

“Would you dance with me?”

“Sure,” he said. He set his glass down and took yours, placing it with his own before he grabbed your hips and started to sway slowly. 

“I meant at the wedding,” you laughed.

“But we’re already dancing,” he smiled. He spun you around and hummed quietly. “You look gorgeous tonight.”

“Thank you. You clean up well, Winchester.”

“This old thing?” he chuckled. “It’s my lucky suit.”

“You wore it that night. I thought you were gonna blow me off.”

“Went out and bought it after that afternoon. You wore that pretty white summer dress with the ruffles.”

“Couldn’t exactly wear a white dress tonight,” you said.

“I’m sure you’ll wear one someday,” he said. “You got plans after the party?”

“Might see this guy if he’s available. Not sure yet.”

“Oh he is. He knows a late night diner not too far with big greasy burgers if she’s interested. Plus he’s got a cool car.”

“Let’s go,” you said as you brushed your lips over his.

“Is the wedding over?”

“It’s dying down. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Let’s go.” He held out his arm and you stuck yours through it, Dean escorting you out to his car. You felt cooler out in the open air and he shrugged off his suit jacket, slipping it over your shoulders. You stuck your arms through and he opened the door for you, smiling to himself. “Ladies first.”

“Dean?” you said before you sat down. You pecked a kiss to his lips and he inhaled sharply. “Maybe I can stay longer than a few days?”

“You could just stay forever,” he said.

“Maybe I will,” you said. He cupped your cheek and grinned, kissing you slowly. “Don’t go away again.”

“Never, sweetheart. Let’s see if we can get a start on forever finally.”

_______

[weelittleweasley]

bar maid (b.w.)

prompt: a long night at the leaky cauldron and the late shift can only mean one thing: a boring night. but when a new face pops into the bar, the mood shifts drastically.

pairing: bill weasley x fem! reader

warnings: drinking, mentions of the war, language (literally once), sexual references

word count: 4.5k

taglist: @harrysweasleys​ @gcdric​ @lumos-barnes​ @whizboingies​ @lumosandnoxwriting​ @pxroxide-prinxcesss​ @c-t-h​ @another-lonely-heart-blog​ @starlightweasley​ @parseltongueswriting​ @shilohpug​ @peachypotter​ @vogueweasley​

“Another round of ale, Albert?” you ask with a smile as you wipe down a section of the bar from its previous attendants. The damp dish towel wipes across the mahogany bar, leaving streaks that shine underneath the bar lighting, the faint smell of chemical lemon lingering in the air mixes with the overwhelming scent of lager and spirits. 

Albert flashes you a toothy grin and gives you a shrug. “Eh, why not. It’s a Friday, isn’t it?” Albert laughs before sliding you his brass mug down the length of the bar as you stealthily catch it in your hand. You fill the mug with amber ale, teeming with white foam, smelling of wheat. “You’re too good to me, (Y/N),” Albert tells you with a grin before taking a sip of his usual drink of choice. 

You were a bar maid at the Leaky Cauldron and Albert was one of your regulars. Now, you didn’t think that you would be a bar maid after graduating from Hogwarts and trying to become a professor, but the world had a funny way about it, didn’t it? Being a bar maid meant you got good tips and had the luxury of creating your own schedule, but it also meant when you worked, it was long hours of standing on your feet and serving cheap ale and lager to annoyed businessmen and exhausted workers from the hours of five o’clock to two o’clock in the morning. Work was grueling, but you tried to make as much fun of it as you could.

“It’s the least I can do, Al,” you sigh, flopping the dish towel over your shoulder as you lean over the bar. “Any juicy gossip for me today? I’ve been bored out of my skull since I clocked in and I still got another five hours ahead of me. I need some entertainment,” you groan, cracking your knuckles against the wood of the bar. The thought of another five hours dealing with more alcohol, more grumpy patrons, and another tired night made your head ache. 

Al takes a long sip from his mug, wiping the foam from his upper lip before speaking, “Not much gossip, I’m afraid.” You throw your head back and groan, taking an annoyed sip from your water. “Nothing interesting has happened, my dear,” he huffs in just as much annoyance as you. “We’re living in dark times, all news is usually disappointing, scary, or both. I’m looking for something hopeful just as much as you are,” Al confesses.

You tighten your ponytail and push your baby hairs away from your face, hands flopping on your shoulders as you slump over. Albert was right. The thought of a looming wizarding war over everyone’s heads was enough to keep everyone living in fear of when it would all come to a head and pop. At least working at the pub took your mind off of things, even if it was just for a few hours of the day.

“However,” Albert’s tone changes as you dart your eyes to him, curious. “I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the name Fleur Delacour? I heard through the grapevine that she has recently started working at Gringott’s. Desk job, but people were confused as to why should would come all the way to London for a silly desk job,” Albert explains before sipping from his ale again.

Your eyebrows furrow as the name does ring a bell. “The name sounds familiar. I certainly didn’t go to school with her or else I would know who she was. But the name is oddly recognizable...I’ll ask my younger sister when I speak to her next. She’s at Hogwarts now. I’m sure she’d know,” you tell Albert. “Anyone else take up a job? Familiar names or faces?” 

Al searches his memory for anything else. He presses his tongue to his cheek. “Yeah, there was someone else. William...I don’t remember the surname for life of me, but it was William something...” he trails off.

You think for a moment, trying to scan your brain for a William that you might know. But you drew blank. It had been so long since you saw anyone from your graduating class. You had spent most of your time in the pub or studying or applying for new professor jobs. But no one was looking to hire an under-experienced professor in these times, no matter how good your marks were at Hogwarts, regardless that you were top of your class in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. The thought makes you infuriated because you knew you could teach this new generation of wizards better than anyone else.  

Shaking your head, “Well, whatever, if he was important, you would know his name.” Albert shrugs. “I need to go bring in some kegs from the back, I’ll be back in a second,” you tell him before go around the bar, walking to the back of the Leaky Cauldron, hearing snippets of conversations here and there, most people talking about the news or their families. It was sad; just two years ago people would be roaring with laughter, telling stories and jokes, recounting happy times. Now, everyone was so focused on how the world as you knew it may be crumbling around you. 

The cool fall air wraps around you as you push the door to bring the kegs from outside in as you pull your jumper over your hands to make some make-shift mittens. “Bloody hell,” you whisper to yourself as you see three kegs lined up outside for you to bring in. “Seriously, Tom?” you groan as you grab one keg and start dragging it. “I don’t get paid enough for this, I swear,” you grumble. 

“Need a hand?” a voice interrupts you as you drag the steel keg across the cobblestone. 

You look up and your eyes meet a pair that you haven’t seen in years. An instant smile rises on your lips as the all too familiar red hair is swept in the wind. “You’re kidding,” you laugh as you stand up straight, brushing off your jumper as he smiles widely at you with a chuckle. “Bill Weasley as I live and breathe?” you laugh as you run towards him, Bill engulfing you in a large hug. Your arms wrap around him tightly as he picks you up, your feet leaving the ground as you giggly madly as Bill sways you back and forth. 

It had been years since you had seen Bill Weasley. The two of you had attended Hogwarts together in the same year and became fast friends. You had always admired how Bill was so smart and confident in himself (borderline arrogant, but in the sexiest best way). Bill was a popular one at Hogwarts, but through it all, he always managed to make time for you since you liked staying out of the lime light. Bill was well-loved and revered at Hogwarts, so it was obvious that he became a prefect during your time. And that’s when you two started to drift apart. He became busy doing his things and you became busy with your own studies. After graduation, the two of you went your separate ways, but you always wondered where he had gone. 

Bill sets you down on your feet, his hands still on your hips as he smiled brightly down at you. He looked so mature now, longer red hair tied back in a ponytail, but he was still tall, thin, and undeniably handsome. The hunter green jacket he sported clung onto his tall figure, underneath a button down that was unbuttoned just enough so you could see the chest hairs that poked out from the loose material. Hanging from his ear lobe was a fang earring that wasn’t there before. Bill had changed, but in a way that caught your eye in a way that has never happened before. You gulped. 

“Godric, (Y/N), you haven’t changed one bit,” Bill laughs as he takes a good look at you as you mentally curse that you had been wearing something different than your old blue jumper and leggings with stained boots from the bar. “How long has it been? Seven years?” he speaks as you nod. “Bloody hell, it feels like yesterday we were at Hogwarts,” he recounts the memories fondly as your heart warms to the same memories.

You smile brightly, “Time flies, Weasley.” He chuckles. “We can talk more about it if you help me bring in these kegs and I’ll treat you to an ale on the house. Or are you more of a lager man?” you ask as you walk back over to the steel kegs that wait to be dragged into the pub. 

Bill chuckles as you grab one keg, starting to drag it into the pub. Without any hesitation or effort, Bill picks up the remaining two kegs in each of his hands, muscles flexing underneath his jacket as he shakes his head. You gulp and avert your eyes, trying not to focus on the way he so effortlessly carried the heavy steel kegs as you pushed yours in. “More of a whiskey kind of guy if you got any of that,” Bill tells you as you push the kegs towards the back of the bar, Bill places his two next to yours. “I didn’t know you were working at the Leaky Cauldron.”

Walking back to the bar with Bill by your side you speak, “Yeah. Been working here for a while now since there seems to be a hold on hiring newer, younger professors,” you roll your eyes as Bill laughs. Bill remembered how badly you wanted to be a professor and teach the younger generations of wizards and witches magic. It was your dream, but now it was on pause. “What about you? Why are you back in London? Last I heard of you, you were in Egypt!” you nudge his arm with your elbow.

He gives you a smile, happy that you had been keeping your tabs on him. “I was in Egypt for a long while. Loved it, really. But I came home to help my family out with the Order and such. I’m working at Gringott’s now at a desk job. Very exciting, I know,” he rolls his eyes as you giggle, making your way behind the bar.

A William working at Gringott’s. I should have known, you think to yourself. “Hey Albert,” you call over the man who sits just a mere stool away from Bill. “That new William who's working at Gringott’s now? It’s not just any bloke, he’s a Weasley,” you smile at Albert who looks over to Bill with a look of realization. “Bill, this is Albert, one of my regulars. Al, this is Bill Weasley, we went to Hogwarts together.”

Bill gives Albert a firm shake shake and warm smile. “Nice to meet you, sir,” Bill beams. “You’ve been in good company with this one, I’m sure,” Bill winks as Albert chuckles lowly.

“That I have been. She’s great company and serves an even better mug of ale,” Albert speaks as you smile sweetly at him, Bill laughing. “I would love to stay and chat longer, but I gotta get home to the family,” Albert tells you and Bill, putting on his coat before digging into his pockets and places and handful of coins on the table to pay for his drinks and tip you generously as he usually did. “I’ll see you on Monday, my dear,” Albert calls as he walks towards the door, you giving him a salute goodbye.

Bill speaks, “He seems like a good guy.” You nod as you take out a glass and start to pour him a generous glass of Fire Whiskey before placing it front of him. “How did you know I take it neat? What if I wanted it on the rocks?”

You give him a knowing look. “I know you, Bill. Last time I checked, you were drinking Fire Whiskey straight from the bottle at your graduation party,” you recall with a light chuckle as Bill groans at the memory. “You were off your rocker that night, I’m tellin’ you,” you start to laugh harder, remembering how Bill stood up on the dining room table of the Burrow, singing along to music that he blasted as everyone laughed and sang along with him. Graduation was such a happy time in your young adult life, you wished you could go back and relive it.

He rubs his face with one hand and speaks, “We were a mess that night, weren’t we?” 

“We? Don’t drag me into this, Weasley! I was perfectly happy having one drink, but it was you who made me drink bloody Daisyroot Draught! The smell now makes me sick,” you contort your face with disgust as Bill laughs. “I will admit though, I’ve missed you quite a bit,” you confess, playing with the edges of the dish rag in your hands as you look up at Bill.

Slowly, a smile finds its way onto Bill’s lips as your heart flutters gently as his eyes look into yours. He still had the same eyes that you adored so fondly as a child and teen. In his eyes contained all the memories of Hogwarts and late nights and sleepover at the Burrow. His eyes had laughter and joy in them that you so missed during times like this. You missed Bill Weasley. For more than one reason.

“I’ve missed you more than quite a bit,” Bill reveals as you allow heat to rise to your cheeks. “I missed having my partner in crime around. Sneaking into the kitchens and then getting caught by McGonagall,” he recalls.

You laugh, “Stop, and then she asked if she could join us!” The two of you are in hysterics at the memory of eating leftovers and sweets in the kitchens with Minerva McGonagall as third year students, chatting about school and life after Hogwarts. McGonagall had always taken a liking to the two of you. She always said that you two were peas in a pod.

Bill smiles and takes a sip from his whiskey before speaking, “How long are you working tonight? I’d be happy to stay with you until you clock out.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’m the closer and we don’t close the bar down until two in the morning.”

With a cheeky smirk, Bill huffs, “Well, we’ve got a lot to catch up on and we got...” he looks at the clock on the wall, “four and a half hours to kill. So, start talking, (Y/N). We’ve got all night,” he speaks, dropping his left eye in a wink as you smile with a blush. 

-----------

For the next four hours, you and Bill caught up on everything. And by everything, you mean everything. His life after Hogwarts sounded much more interesting than what you had been doing to keep busy. Bill had been spending his time as a Curse-Breaker for Gringott’s, going on missions throughout Egypt, coming home to London here and there. You smiled as he recounted his stories with such passion and love in his eyes. It was evident that Bill loved what he was doing and he was sad that he couldn’t continue doing his job, now being stationed back in London at a boring desk job. Quite the downgrade from fighting and defeating mummies to working an office job.

Soon, people were filing out of the bar as closing time approached until it was just you and Bill in the pub. You had moved from standing behind the bar to sitting on a stool next to Bill, leaning on the bar as you listened to his deep baritone voice speak to you. 

Bill placed a hand on your knee, giving it a squeeze. “(Y/N)? Tell me something,” he speaks.

“Anything, Weasley,” you smile at him, sleepily.

Bill chuckles, “Why are you working as a bar maid when you could be going out and doing what you love? Teaching. You’ve always wanted to teach students magic and it doesn’t seem fair that you are parked behind a bar pouring ale and lager to lazy blokes.” You roll your eyes and shake your head. “I’m serious. What’s stopping you?”

You sigh and recount everything that has held you back from doing what you want. First off, no wizarding school in the United Kingdom was hiring any professor right now due to the climate of the wizarding world. The only other option was moving to America and maybe teaching there at Ilvermorny? Maybe Beauxbatons in France? But it wasn’t a guarantee that you could find a job with such little teaching experience under your belt. “Besides the hiring freeze? I have no experience teaching, Bill. Plus, I want to make money for myself right now so I can save it up and move into my own place rather than living in my small flat with a bunch of my mates. The only other jobs are abroad and I do not have that much money to make a move like that. Besides, my whole family is here. My friends. And you’ve just come back now and leaving just seems illogical,” you sigh, knowing that your dream would have to wait.

He shakes his head, “Excuses, excuses.” You shake your head and take a sip from the whiskey that you had poured yourself, the amber liquid warming up your chest and stomach. It tasted like graduation. “If I can teach a year at Hogwarts, then you certainly can. Besides, you were just as good, if not better, than me in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’m sure they could use your help more than ever right now.”

Looking up at Bill, you see how tender and soft his gaze is on you. He really meant every word he spoke to you with genuine honesty. Looking at Bill now was like looking at someone who you had known forever. He really hadn’t changed one bit. He was witty and kind and smart and sweet. Your Bill. But at the same time, he was different. He had become so mature and ruthless and brave. It was a new Bill, a Bill you could get used to. 

You look down and see that his hand was still placed on your knee. Clearing your throat, you shift in your seat and Bill retracts his hand, digging it into the pocket of his jacket again as you take a sip of your whiskey. “Well,” you start, “I know I would be a better professor than you...I’m better at a lot of things than you,” you tease him as he rolls his eyes. 

“Oh yeah? Do I smell a challenge?” Bill laughs as you shrug. “Ah, ah, don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart,” he leans back in his chair, tongue pressed to his cheek as you gulp, the nickname making your palms sweat. “Go on,” he speaks, daring you to challenge him. “You chose.”

Trying to ignore the rapid increase in your heart rate, you swallow hard. “Fine,” you smile before reaching over to the other side of a bar, grabbing a jar filled with a red liquid and multiple bright red cherries. Twisting the cap open, you pluck out two maraschino cherries, one for you and one for Bill. “I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue faster than you can,” you smirk, flirtatiously biting the cherry of its stem as Bill’s eyes widen and he gulps, shifting in his seat.

He clears his throat, “Yeah? How much you wanna bet?” 

You think for a moment, trying to find a wager that would make this worth your while. “If I win, you pick up the tab from tonight,” you smile.

“I thought this was all on the house?” he scoffs with a smirk.

“Not if you lose,” you sing song, making him roll his eyes. “And Albert told me about a new worker at Gringott’s. Fleur Delacour? Yeah, you’ve gotta ask her out on a date,” you smirk. 

Bill’s eyes widen. “Fleur?!” he exclaims with a laugh. “She’s my co-worker! Plus, we’re just friends. Nothing’s there,” he reasons as you shake your head.

You laugh, “Well those are my terms if I win. Gotta get you out on the dating field, Weasley.” You tease him as he smirks, looking down at the whiskey glass in his hands. “And if you win?”

He thinks for a moment, swirling the whiskey around and around in his glass, pondering what his terms would be. Bill bites the cherry off the stem as you watch his lips move carefully, like you were in a trance of some kind. You quickly shake it off, trying to keep yourself from getting distracted by him. “If I win,” Bill huffs, “then first of all, the drinks are on the house. Second, you’ll have to stop by the Burrow because once Mum hears that you’re in London, she’ll have a cow,” he laughs as you giggle. Molly Weasley, what an angel. “And third of all,” he speaks, leaning forward on his elbows so he’s closer to your face as you inhale sharply, “I’ll ask whoever the fuck I want on a date.”

Your heart stops for a moment as your whole body tingles as the words all from his lips. You can’t take your eyes off of his you are frozen. Bill smirks at your reaction before slowly leaning back in his chair, biting down softly on his lower lip as you gulp. “O-Okay then,” you manage to make out, trying to reorient yourself as Bill chuckles. “Count of three?” you speak before placing the cherry stem in your mouth as Bill does his. “One...two...three.”

With that, the two of you start twisting your tongue around the cherry stem, trying to tie it before the other could. Your heart is racing a mile a minute and your stomach is doing flips as your mind is screaming what the hell is going on. The entire time Bill doesn’t take his eyes off of you, staring into yours. The act felt so inherently sexual that you could feel your palms sweat and a second heartbeat between your thighs grow. This was a terribly good idea. 

You can feel the cherry stem in your mouth finally slip into a knot as your eyes widen in victory, hand flying up to your mouth so you can show Bill the work you have done. As you hand reaches your lips, Bill’s fingers slyly pull his cherry stem out of his mouth just mere milliseconds before you. “I win,” he speaks.

“You cheated!” you instantly accuse him, pointing your finger at him.

Bill chuckles, “How did I cheat? I won fair and square and you know it, you sore loser.”

You shake your head, “I clearly won, you saw me! You had to have cheated, just so you could get free whiskey out of it!” Bill just shakes his head and grabs your chair, pulling you closer to him as you fail to notice as you keep rambling nervously. “Admit it, Bill, you just don’t like to admit that you’re not Hogwarts’ golden child anymore. You’ve out grown that title. Step aside for the new winner which is me, of course. You know I won, come on, Bill. I def-”

“(Y/N)?” he asks softly.

You realize that you are mere inches away from Bill now, his hands resting on either side of your stool. You inhale slowly and gulp, trying to calm yourself down to prepare for the inevitable. “Yes, Bill?” you respond just as softly.

“Shut up,” he whispers with a smile.

“Okay.”

Without further hesitation, Bill leans forward and connects your lips together as you inhale deeply, kissing him back and wrapping your arms around his neck instantly. Bill’s hands slide around your sides before hoisting you onto the bar, him standing between your legs as he kisses you deeper. You wrap your legs around his torso, drawing him closer to you, needing to feel his body pressed against yours. His lips move against yours with deep desire that he had been saving for so long and finally, you both were getting what you wanted for so long. His mouth tasted of the whiskey as you took more and more of it, drunk off of his kiss. 

His hands held onto you tightly, not daring to let you go as you lightly moaned into his lips, making him smirk. Bill’s tongue was cool against yours as he massaged yours with his, snogging you right in the middle of the bar. Your mouths moved together, lusting after the other’s touch. You hands ran down his chest and his abs as he groaned gently into your mouth, making your stomach flutter as you smirked softly. Bill’s hand cupped your cheek before making its way to the back of your neck, pressing your lips harder against his. 

You wanted to take him in this pub just like this, but Bill pulls away before you can push off his jacket. The two of you are breathless from kissing, chest heaving up and down, a smile on both of your faces as you blush a wild crimson. “You win,” you surrender to Bill who chuckles.

“I always win, sweetheart,” he winks before kissing you again, this time short as you whine when he pulls away. “And since I won, that means that this whiskey,” he points to his glass, “is on the house, you’ll be joining the Weasley’s for Sunday dinner, and on Monday night, you’ll be taking the night off so I can take you out on a proper date rather than just snogging on the bar of the pub,” he speaks as you laugh.

You run your fingers through his hair, “You mean you do like snogging me on the bar?” you tease him.

Bill furrows his brows, “Hey, hey, slow your roll. Don’t put words in my mouth now.” You laugh, placing your hands on his shoulders. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than snog you in every location of his pub,” he winks as you roll your eyes. “But I reckon a girl like you should be taken out on a proper date by a bloke like me, eh?” 

Pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, you speak against them, “It’d be my honor.”

“Wicked,” he smirked, giving your sides a squeeze before hoisting you down from the bar. “How about you lock this place up and I’ll walk you back to your flat. Can’t have precious cargo like you roaming the streets alone,” he speaks with a gentle tap on your bum as you roll your eyes.

You shove his shoulder teasingly, “Hey, just because you came back from Egypt, Mr. Big Shot, doesn’t mean you make my decisions for me.” Bill chuckles as you smile, “But yeah, I’ll let you walk me home, Weasley.”

[ynscrazylife]

I was thinking maybe a oneshot where B!D gets poisoned by Cadmus?

Sisterly Instincts 

Summary: Y/N is Kryptonian who landed on Earth a few years after Kara. When CADMUS kidnaps her, they inject her with a poison made out of their version of Kryptonite, which is very harmful to her.

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting!

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PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/mundodeseriess

Image ID: Alex and Kara sitting together. Alex has her eyes closed, head on Kara’s shoulder, arm wrapped around her, and is looking upset. Kara is wearing her glasses and is looking down, crying. End ID. 

“Alex, have you heard from Y/N yet today?” Kara asked as she entered the DEO, a slight frown on her face still evident from the morning. 

Alex shook her head no. “Not since last night, why?” She asked, coming down the stairs and joining her sister in her walk. 

Kara shrugged it off. “She just didn’t send me her usual good morning text . . . She’s probably fine, right?” The blonde answered, now feeling silly as she voiced the worry that had been slowly eating at her. 

Alex’s warm chuckle calmed her almost instantly. “Yeah, it’s nothing. We’ll see her soon as she’s coming into the DEO anyway,” she reasoned, assuming their younger sister had just overslept. 

They reached the main room where J’onn and the other DEO agents sat at their desks and immediately the Danvers’ sisters got to work. 

However, when it was ten minutes past the time Y/N was supposed to arrive, Alex decided to give her a call, biting her lip. She discreetly pressed her phone to her ear, turning away so she wouldn’t cause her sister unnecessary worry. 

It ringed. 

And ringed. 

And ringed. 

“Hey! You’ve reached Y/N Danvers. Sorry I couldn’t answer! Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.” Alex cursed quietly when it rang so long it went to voicemail and huffed to clear her mind and steady herself.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Alex. I’m sure you just overslept or are rushing to work,” she said, pausing to chuckle when the image of her younger sister running around the city popped into her mind, “Just give me a call when you get this. Love you, bye!” 

Despite the small worry entering the pit of her stomach, Alex reminded herself that Y/N being late and missing a phone wasn’t too uncommon, and she resumed her work. 

"Alex?” Kara said, and Alex looked up from her computer to see her sister gesturing at the clock with a nod. The brunette looked over, and felt that pit sink lower when she saw that 20 minutes had passed. Getting no message from Y/N, Alex and Kara shared a look, coming to a silent decision. 

“We're gonna go by Y/N’s apartment and check on her,” Alex informed J’onn as she stood up from her chair and grabbed her coat. She couldn't keep herself from remembering that Y/N should be here right now, she didn't live far away. 

Kara nodded, following her older sister, and the two women left the DEO, neither of them discussing their worries in fear of distressing the other one. Great minds do think alike, though, and that’s why they both internally came to the conclusion that if nothing was wrong and they found Y/N sleeping late, they were gonna be pissed (however they hoped that was what they found instead of the scary alternatives brewing and stirring in their minds). 

When they reached Y/N’s apartment, Kara knocked on the door. They waited almost a minute and when the door didn't open and they didn’t hear anything, Alex fished the key Y/N had given to her out of her pocket and unlocked the door. 

Stepping inside, the women were prepared to search the house like they were on a mission, when a paper on the floor, having been slipped under the door, caught their attention. Sharing a look, Kara grabbed the paper and unfolded it. It read: 

“Hello, Supergirl, 

I won’t lie. I don’t know your ‘secret identity’. However, I was able to find out Y/S/N’s, so it’s only a matter of time before I find yours, too. Come to these coordinates: [pretend there’s random coordinates] by 12:00 alone and allow us to experiment and test on you. If you fail to do that, I won’t give Y/N the cure to the Kryptonite poison that’s in her system and I’ll reveal her identity to the world. 

-- CADMUS.” 

For a couple moments, Kara and Alex stood, glued to the spot. Thoughts and emotions washed over their bodies: concern for their sister, anger at CADMUS, and an utter helplessness since they didn’t know what to do. 

It was a little past 10:00 now and when the two got back to the DEO, they made a plan with J’onn. He’d disguise himself as Kara and would do as the letter said and they’d have DEO agents - including Alex and Kara - stationed around the building with cloaking devices, which would make them invisible to CADMUS and their tech. Winn would hack into CADMUS’ tech and after Y/N was given the cure, the DEO agents would act.

At 10:30, the DEO agents were stationed around the base, invisible, and J’onn had walked into the base itself, disguised as Kara. He noticed the Kryptonite around the room, there to weaken Kara, so he put on an act: pretending that it was hurting him. He barley refrained from rushing over to Y/N when he saw the woman who was like a daughter to him siting on a chair, weak and only half-conscious, sweat shining on her face with Lillian Luthor standing beside her. 

“Good, you came,” Lillian said with a sadistic smile. 

“Yes. Now give Y/S/N the cure,” J’onn said, putting on his best Supergirl face. 

The corners of Lillian’s mouth turned into a smirk and she walked over to another chair a few feet away, which had Kryptonite restraints. “Sit,” she said calmly, although the way she stood, her hands delicately placed on the chair, brought power to the lonely word. 

J’onn complied, frowning as he walked over to the chair and sat down, letting Lillian put the restraints on his wrists and ankles that she thought would weaken him. For extra effect, J’onn sucked in a breath and faked pain. 

Lillian smugly turned around and walked back to Y/N, who didn’t seem to realize what was going on. The older woman gestured to one of her minions and they promptly injected a serum into Y/N’s neck, making the youngest Danvers’ gasp just the slightest before her eyes fluttered close. 

“The antidote is taking its affect in her system,” Lillian informed J’onn before turning back to her minion. “Take the girl outside. She can find her way back.” 

The man nodded and picked Y/N up, slinging her over his shoulder and walked out. The second J’onn heard a smash and knew that his team had acted, he gave Lillian no time to be on alert before he ripped off the restraints and knocked all of the CADMUS agents out. 

. . .  . . .  . . . 

Alex and Kara had been standing outside, listening to Lillian and J’onn’s interaction through their earpieces. The women were both racked with worry over their little sister and when they saw the man carrying her, it took everything in them both to wait until he carelessly dropped her on the floor. When he did, Kara revealed herself and knocking him unconscious into a wall. Alex then revealed herself as well, hearing J’onn fighting, and ran to Y/N while the rest of the DEO agents went inside to erase CADMUS’ memory of Y/N’s identity and to make arrests.

“Y/N, Y/N! Come on, wake up,” Alex said, slightly panicked as she gently rolled Y/N from where she was laying on her side to be on her back. Kara, after making sure the guy was unconscious, sped over. 

Kara knitted her brown together and drew her lips into a line, silently gathering her sister into her arms. Alex glanced up at her, tears in her eyes, for she knew Kara was only silent when she was very worried. 

“I’ll meet you back at the DEO,” Kara said quietly, her tone almost emotionless, before lifting off and flying into the air. Alex swallowed and took a breath, getting to her feet.

. . .  . . .  . . .

As she flew through the air, Kara battled to keep distracting thoughts about the clouds and the breeze away, as she knew she had to focus on her unconscious sister. Y/N was the priority. Once she landed at the DEO, she immediately headed to the med bay, where doctors took over and Kara informed him that Y/N had supposedly been given the antidote. 

After almost ten minutes of Kara pacing just outside the door and Winn doing his best to comfort her, the doctors informed them that the antidote was indeed in Y/N’s system and it was fighting off the poison. They didn’t know when she would wake up but when she did, she would need to rest a lot as she’d be weak. They were also unsure if CADMUS had done anything else to her, so she’d need to stay at the DEO overnight if she didn’t wake up soon. 

The doctors allowed Kara to see her so the blonde sat by her sister’s side, holding her hand until Alex burst in, looking out-of-breath. 

“How is she?” Alex asked, sitting on Y/N’s other side and taking her free hand. 

Kara told her what the doctors said and they collectively let out a breath, relieved that she was going to be alright. They stayed with Y/N for another hour, silent except for the occasional comment, when Y/N started blinking her eyes open. 

The agent and the superhero both sat up, patiently waiting for Y/N to wake up and adjust herself.

“Alex? Kara?” Y/N croaked out, looking at her sisters in a haze of confusion. 

Both women smiled and let out happy tears, helping her to sit up before wrapping their arms around her. Y/N smiled, leaning her head against Kara’s neck. 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Alex whispered. 

“It’ll never happen again,” Kara promised. 

Y/N nodded. She didn’t say anything in response, finding herself too tired after the day’s events. Kara and Alex stayed until she fell asleep and then they reluctantly left her under the watchful eye of Winn, since they needed to debrief with J’onn and prepare for when Y/N would come home. 

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @sybil-moon-is-a-mess @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes

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[talonwings]

Who We Are - Empires SMP writing

a gift for you, empiresblr, courtesy of my now 5 hours of fWhip headcanons. feel free to kill me when you're done. (also sorry i don't yet have an AO3 i can link to, i've been on the wait list foreeevvveerrr).

CW for slight body horror, angst, and i guess suffocation kind of?

“fWhip? Hello? Are you in here?”

He heard the call--how could he not have, when the voice was hers? Still, he did not move, remaining where he slumped against the wall of the underground room. One of the redstone crystals blooming from the stone was jammed against his shoulder blade, but even the pain could not entice him to rise.

“fWhip, come out!” Gem’s voice was a mixture of frustration and concern, a tone he rarely heard from her--well, the frustration he had heard before, but the worry was new. Gem almost never fretted about anything; it was how she had kept him and Sausage so well in line up until now.

“I’m going to come down there!” The threat echoed down the passageway that separated the secret room from the unassuming shopfront above it. “I know where your lair is, it isn’t a secret! Don’t make me come down there!”

“Don’t,” fWhip rasped. “Please.”

Gem either couldn’t or didn’t hear him. “I’m giving you one minute, and then I’m coming down there whether you like it or not!”

“Please,” he tried again, but his voice would not obey him. It petered out almost as soon as it passed his lips. He licked them, swallowed, coughed, tried a third time. “Gem, please, go away.”

This time, it seemed, she did hear, for she answered, “I will not go away! Nobody’s seen you in two weeks, fWhip! We’re worried sick!”

“I’m fine,” he croaked--a lie.

“You don’t sound fine,” she retorted. “I’m coming down.”

He opened his mouth to warn her off again, but the tell-tale sound of the painting door sliding back masked whatever he might have tried to say. Seconds later, her footsteps started up, the familiar click of those heeled purple boots getting ever louder as she marched along the passageway toward his laboratory.

fWhip’s gaze darted around in a panic, searching out anyplace that would be suitable to hide. He hadn’t moved from his current spot in over twelve hours, and his limbs protested as he shoved himself violently to his feet, teetering off-balance from the unfamiliar motion. Finally, he settled on a small cranny near the back of the chamber, and limped over to it, cramming himself inside just as Gem’s footfalls indicated that she had reached the door to the lab itself. He heard her swing it open, and then her voice, much clearer now, softly called, “fWhip? Where are you?”

“Go away,” he replied, hating the stony rasp that he couldn’t seem to get rid of now. “Don’t want to see you.”

“Well, that’s just rude,” she replied. He could imagine the look on her face, and fought against the lump it brought to his throat. He wanted to apologize, to beg for her forgiveness, to throw himself into her arms.

“Didn’t ask you to come,” he croaked instead.

“No, actually, Jimmy did,” Gem replied waspishly. “Your enemy. You remember him? The one you stole his most precious possession from? He sent me a message three days ago to tell me he hadn’t seen or heard from you in over a week. Mind you, this was after I’d been questioned by Sausage, Pearl, and Shrub as to why you’ve missed the last two alliance meetings. fWhip, even your enemies are worried about you. Where have you been?”

Oh, if only you knew. His mouth twisted with a hateful, bitter little smile. “Busy.”

Gem audibly scoffed. “Right.”

“Leave, Gem.” The order tasted strange in his mouth, when he desperately wanted her to stay.

“Not until I see you.” He heard her start moving around the room, picking things up and nudging them with her feet, rearranging boxes and sliding barrels aside as she searched.

“Leave.” The cranny was small, but he squashed himself further inside anyway, stone scraping against all the places where his skin was exposed.

“Are you back there?” His stomach squeezed with terror as he heard her move toward him, squeezing between two of the suspension tubes where he had once stored specimens he was researching. “I can’t see you.”

“Please, leave, please.” If he couldn’t order her, he could at least beg her. “Gem, please, if you care about me at all, go away.”

“fWhip, I do care about you,” she said gently. “That’s why I’m here in the first place. Please come out. I just want to know you’re safe.”

He could feel his heart ripping itself in half--desperation to hide warring violently with the desire to finally be seen, even if it would cost him everything. It felt like it might burn a hole in his chest, and his hands tightened reflexively into fists as he battled himself for what seemed an eternity.

“Please, little brother,” Gem whispered.

It was as if she had caved his chest in. A sob dragged itself from his throat before he could stop it, but he finally let himself unfurl from the cranny to drape limply across the floor, gazing up at his sister’s blue-violet eyes as they widened in shock, which turned to horror, which turned to sorrow.

“Oh, fWhip…” Gem reached out a hand toward him, but hesitated, drawing her fingers back before she could reach him. “What happened?”

“You really want to know?” He had to shove back another sob with a monumental effort, watching the way her fingers trembled as she gazed at him. “Or do you want to leave, like I told you to before?”

“No, I would never,” she gasped. “Not now. Not like this.” She sat down on the floor, her violet cloak flowing behind her like a pool of silky water, and slid closer to him, although not quite close enough for their hands to touch. “Tell me what happened.”

He let his eyes drift away from hers, toward the ceiling and the red crystals dripping from its shadowy recesses. “Well, it began two weeks ago.”

Two weeks earlier…

fWhip was not a stranger to surprises, but he liked receiving them far less than he liked planning them.

It had been a long elytra flight from the undisclosed location of the Wither Rose headquarters back to his home in the Grimlands, and the multiple hours in the air were wearing on his body--even though he had been wearing his scarlet goggles for the duration, his eyeballs still ached as if the wind had been hammering them, as did his shoulder blades from the yank and drift of the elytra against his own muscles.

“Maybe next time I take a horse,” he muttered to himself as he angled in for the landing. The deepslate roofs of the Grimlands were beginning to glide by beneath him now, and he made for the circular patch of dirt at the back of the manor that was his customary landing site, his eyes trained on it until something else caught his attention.

“I am positive that was not there before…” One hand came up to tap his chin as his gaze caught on the massive outcrop of deepslate that had bloomed at the front corner of the manor gardens, studded with glinting redstone crystals. A darker shadow within the ring-shaped formation suggested there might possibly be a hole there, though how deep was indiscernible from this far above.

“If somebody has been trying to steal from me again--wait.” fWhip narrowed his eyes at the spot, investigating it more closely now, for it seemed more familiar the closer he drew. He could vaguely recall setting a circle of rocks within the closed hedges, and in their center, a red container, filled with--

“Damn! Xornoth again!” His breath huffed out harshly as he realized what had happened. First the explosion, and now this…

Veering off-course from his typical spot, he carefully glided down until he was low enough to snap the elytra closed and drop gracefully to the ground between the wide hedge rows. From down here, the deepslate ring seemed much larger than it had from the air, its jagged edges stabbing into the blue sky. He could tell now that there was, indeed, a hole at the center, exactly where he had placed the shulker-box filled with Xornoth’s corruption.

“Damn,” he whispered again. He edged closer, peering carefully at the hole as he neared in an attempt to see what might be at the bottom. It appeared to be deeper than he was tall, however, and he was forced to maneuver up to the very lip of the hole to get a good look at the bottom. Thankfully, there did seem to be a bottom, lurking maybe ten feet below the surface; the depths of the hole were quite dark, though, only dimly illuminated by patches of glimmering red crystals, and he was unable to determine much more than that.

fWhip wondered, briefly, if he ought to just ignore the hole. Common sense would seem to suggest that it was involved with Xornoth in some way, and therefore worthy of at least being avoided for the time being until he could request the help of his allies. fWhip, however, whether fortunately or not, had always been availed of a strong sense of curiosity--it was how he had developed so many of his gadgets and tools. Besides that, there was something about the depths of the small hole that seemed to call to him, and him specifically.

He glanced around, taking stock of who might be nearby in case he needed to call for help, and saw no one in the immediate vicinity. There was a groundskeeper’s cottage just on the other side of the hedge row, but he had no way of knowing whether anyone might be inside.

“Well, I suppose I’ll just have to take a chance,” he murmured. “Here goes.”

Gingerly, he sat down at the edge of the hole, dangling his legs off the side and exploring for possible footholds. It took him a minute, but his toes finally caught on a ledge, and he was able to hoist himself down and into the vertical shaft. Thankfully, the same jagged-edged property of deepslate that made it look menacing also made it excellent for climbing, and he had relatively little difficulty lowering himself the full ten or eleven feet to the bottom, where his feet landed on solid stone. Looking up, he was surprised how dim the sky seemed to be after such a short descent.

Now what? he thought to himself as he gazed around at the narrow walls on all sides. Surely I didn’t make an ass of myself climbing down here for no reason.

He had but a few seconds to wonder, as a strange hiss caught his attention, echoing from the rock walls. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but the small hole began rapidly to fill with a reddish mist, which, when he inhaled it, made the inside of his nose and throat burn as if he had inhaled fire. He coughed, accidentally inhaled again, and coughed more violently, and still the stuff spewed into the cavern, and he began to wonder whether this was a trap, and whether he had been an idiot for climbing down here, and whether his allies--his friends, his sister--would find his corpse rotting down here. His hands scrabbled for handholds to lever himself back up, but the mist had filled his eyes now, and it stung, forcing him blindly to his knees. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, could barely think. Lights danced behind his eyelids, and his throat was a tunnel of fire, and then he was unconscious, and knew no more.

Present day…

“And the next thing I knew, I woke up. And...this.” fWhip gestured down to himself, unable to keep his mouth from curling like he had tasted something sour. “Or, well, part of it.”

“Part of it?” Gem cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it was just the wings at first.” He tugged at the grey-black appendages, hating that he could feel it when his fingers brushed the leathery flesh. “And to be honest, I thought they were awesome. Who hasn’t dreamed of having wings? Sure, they looked a little gargoyle-ish, but it seemed like a small price to pay for not having to use elytra anymore. And it felt like the redstone magic was helping me, maybe giving me a gift to fight against Xornoth. I thought it might be something good.”

“And then…” Gem prompted when he trailed off.

“And then...the rest started,” he whispered. “I tried to ignore it at first. I thought maybe I was hallucinating, or getting sick, because it started with just my eyes, and I felt like maybe it would go away if I just, I don’t know, pretended not to notice. But then it was my skin, and then my hands, and then...and then my face.” He turned away from her as a visible shudder made its way through him. “I look disgusting.”

“Why didn’t you call us for help?” Gem murmured.

“Because it was my fault it happened!” he growled, shaking his head. “Because I was an idiot and went down that hole and breathed in that gas, and now I’m a monster, and I have no one to blame but myself. Because I couldn’t wait for you.”

“fWhip, no!” He could see the glimmer of moisture in her eyes, and he hated himself even more for it, for making her upset. “It isn’t your fault. You didn’t know what would happen, and you’ve always been an investigator. And now you’ve had to suffer alone, and I had no idea, and…” Her voice caught. “I was so worried. I thought maybe the demon…and especially after those dreams...”

He swallowed. “I...I’m sorry. I just...I didn’t know how to face everyone like this.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, simply listening to their own breaths. Finally, Gem said, “It doesn’t look that bad, you know.”

fWhip eyed her dubiously. “Gem, I look like a gargoyle. Like some kind of…” The word demon couldn’t force itself out, but he could see she understood, for she vigorously shook her head.

“No, you don’t look anything like that,” she said. After a long pause, she quietly added, “You look like my little brother.”

He tried, but couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down his cheeks. “Thanks,” he whispered.

She reached over and finally took his hand, and he almost shouted with joy at the touch of another person; her skin was warm and soft, her delicate tiny fingers gentle as they closed around his rough, clawed ones.

“We’ll figure this out,” she promised. “Together.”

He nodded, and squeezed her hand. “Together.”

[sazc94]

The Three Times James "Bucky" Barnes Broke your heart

This was inspired by @msmarvelwrites 2k Writing Challenge because I'm a sucker for Taylor Swift especially sad Taylor Vibes. I chose the all too well lyrics.

Apparently, I can't do anything small so it's in two parts.

Part 2 Here

Pairs Bucky x Reader and Pietro x Reader. (Not at the same time)

No smut but mentions of sex so 18+

Themes: highschool, cheating, college/uni. Friendship

Words 5659 its Suburban AU.

Winter 2018

You sat on the window seat, head resting on the cool glass a mug of hot chocolate between your hands. Winter in New York was something else, the way everything sparkled in the blanket of snow. This wasn’t your first December in the “Big Apple” but it was your first after moving here. Like the walking cliché you were you had moved here for a Fresh Start, after being offered a once in a lifetime opportunity of working for Tony Stark. You hadn’t planned on taking the job working as head of advertising for Stark Industries. The idea of moving from your small town in Michigan away from your family, everyone you knew and loved, and most importantly away from your best friend and your on-again-off-again boyfriend Bucky seemed ludicrous. You knew James or Bucky as he was to those who knew and loved him would never leave Michigan not if it meant leaving her.

James and you had been friends since, well as since long as you could remember. You had lived on the same street, gone to the same schools, played in the streets on your bikes when you were 8, played in the local park between the ages of 10 and 12. When you both hit 13 everyone assumed you would both either stop being friends or would fall romantically in love. Neither of those happened at least not right away. You two carried on hanging around each-others houses, playing video games and watching movies. Bucky had always been fiercely protective over you, his blue eyes narrowing at anyone who dared to pick on you when you were younger. His eyes would light up when you walked into the room, he loved Friday nights saved just for the pair of you to watch cheesy horror films, lounge around his sofa and stuff your faces with popcorn.

2008

Everything changed when you were 15, you and Bucky had always been inseparable, when no one asked you to combined Prom in your Freshman year, Bucky had surprised you. Showing up at your house dressed in a suit and tie with a white rose corsage, his long brown hair slicked back. You walked downstairs in your ballet slipper pink chiffon dress, your locks twisted into an intricate bun, this was the first time you’d worn heels and you nearly missed the bottom step when you saw Bucky in his Grey Suit stood in your living room. Bucky had tried out for the football team and obviously to no ones’ surprise had become the Star QB. As a result of that Bucky’s grey suit stretched across his muscular frame. Once you’d saved yourself from falling face-first down the last stair you walked over to Bucky grinning like a fool. “Bucky, what, what are you doing here? I thought you were going with Sam and Pietro and the rest of the football team” you said. “Well, I couldn’t leave my best girl flying solo at our first prom now, could I?” Bucky grinned down to you. “Besides the rest of the guys were meeting dates at the dance, so I told them I’d meet them there with you” you felt yourself blush at Bucky’s term of endearment. You and Bucky posed for photos for your Mum and Dad, your Dad trusted Bucky like his own son so there was no awkward father stare down there, you even had your curfew extended to 2 am.

The prom itself was magical, Bucky introduced you to his teammates and their dates. Sam was there with a cheerleader, Jane Foster she was friends with the cool alternative girl Wanda Maximoff who was Pietro’s twin sister they were Sophomores but made you feel welcome at their table. Complimenting your hair and shoes. Pulling you onto the dancefloor to dance with them and the rest of the cheerleaders and co to the pumped-up pop songs that blasted out. The way the gym had been transformed was nothing short of breath-taking, led fairy lights strung up in waves from the ceiling, silver stars hanging against the velvet blue backdrops made you believe you were spending the night under the stars. When the music changed to a slow song -Tim McGraw by an up-and-coming artist Taylor Swift. The Group of girls surrounding you soon dissipated to slow dance with their respective others. You started to make your way back to the table you’d been sat at, happy to finally take a breather when you felt someone tug on your wrist. You turned around fully prepared to slap whatever creep had felt it suitable to touch someone they didn’t know but your face softened to find the familiar blue-eyed, muscular brunette smirking at you. “Miss Y/N” may I have this dance?”, he asked. “Why certainly, MR James Buchanan Barnes” you replied chuckling to yourself. Bucky cocked an eyebrow at the use of his full name before pulling you tight towards him. He wrapped your arms around his neck before wrapping his around your waist. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, you and Bucky had never been this intimate, sure still hugged and had kissed each other on the cheek when you were like 5, but this felt different. The way Bucky enveloped you, the scent of his aftershave mixed with his mum’s washing powder he smelt like cherry blossom mixed with sandalwood. You rested your head on Bucky’s chest, closing your eyes deciding to take this all in. A small smile tugged on your lips as you felt Bucky stroke your hips. You didn’t know it, but he looked at you with such love and adoration and his heart squeezed watching you rest your head on his chest the smile on your pale pink lips. Bucky moved his right hand from your waist and brought it to your cheek, slightly stroking it before lifting your face to look him in the eyes. His eyes shone with affection; his eyes so blue like the ocean you felt like you were drowning in them. Then his lips were on yours crashing against your slightly chapped lips, you cursed yourself for not wearing Chapstick like the cheerleaders and Wanda did. However, as the kiss deepened, and you felt Bucky’s left-hand grip on you together and you melted into the kiss everything else faded away. Bucky drew back and looked at you. Your smile dazzling him as your eyes shone back at him. Neither of you said a word as he pulled you back to his chest whilst the DJ played another slow song.

2009 - 2010

Bucky and you dated from the end of your Freshman year right up until the summer before your senior year. Bucky and you had been inseparable for most of your High School life, he even convinced you to try out for the cheerleading squad in your Junior year, usually you sat on the Side-lines with Wanda and Carol Danvers, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to be a cheerleader it's just you were comfortable being “Bucky’s Girl” the one everyone knew without being in the spotlight, however after Wanda and Carol egged you on saying that you had the moves you went for it. You surprisingly made the squad. You couldn’t wait to tell Bucky, warmth spreading through your cheeks at the thought of how he’d be so proud. You decided to keep it quiet until you had your uniform. Jane and the girls had also promised to keep their mouths shut until you’d had the chance to surprise him. So, when homecoming rolled around, and you got your uniform for the first time you went along to the locker rooms where the football team would be heading off to change before the big pep rally. You stood against the wall one foot pressed against it, your knee bent whilst you waited. You heard Sam and Pietro before you saw them. They turned the corner roughhousing one another playfully. “Looking good Y/N” Sam shouted as he clocked you in your brand-new uniform. “looks like Bucky’s personal cheerleader now cheers for us all,” he said walking over to you and enveloping you in a hug. You giggled and at that moment Bucky Turned the corner with Peter Parker a freshman. He couldn’t see your uniform from the way that Sam’s body was covering yours, but he saw your face and started running down the hallway to you. As Sam and Pietro headed inside, he finally got to see the big reveal, he stopped in his tracks for a second. His eyes taking in every inch of your body, the skirt shorter than anything you owned, the top hugging your curves. He ran over to you picking you up and spinning you in the air as you squealed. “I knew you could do it Doll,” he said as he peppered kisses over your head, cheek, and lips. You blushed at his praise. Your Junior year with Bucky was a blur, between the football games, classes, parties’ dates with Bucky you felt like time was rushing past. You Even won Prom King and Queen at your Junior Prom. To no one’s surprise. However, that summer everything changed.

Summer 2010

You were on holiday with your family, visiting your grandparents in Miami. Every year you for as long as you could remember you and your family would spend the last 3 weeks of summer break at your grandparents. You had begged Bucky to come with you as he had in the past, however, due to football camp, he had been unable to swing it. “Hey, I’m sorry doll, it’s just coach said if I didn’t go he wouldn’t consider me for team captain,” he said hugging you from behind as you sat on your porch steps, his chin resting on your head. He had sworn to you that you would text every day and would skype at least once a week for the three weeks you were there. However, after the first week, Bucky’s texts had become less and less frequent. He’d only Skyped you once and you’d get texts from Various friends asking where you were as you weren’t at the latest party. On the final night of your holiday, as you walked along the beach by yourself taking in the last of the holiday feel your phone rang, you looked down it, confused when the caller Id said, Jane. “Hey, babe. Look I’m not sure how to say this” but uh we’re at a small party at Wanda and Pietro’s there’s about 15 of us, including this friend of mine Nat and uhm well, Bucky’s pretty wasted and well after I noticed I hadn’t seen him for a while I went looking for him”. Jane’s voice sounded stressed. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears tried to escape, not liking where this was going. “And uh, oh god I’m really sorry girl, but I, I kind of walked in on them fucking” Jane blurted it out, going for the band-aid approach as if saying it quicker would make it the cut sting any less. You didn’t say anything, you just stood there staring out the black ocean, the warm sand between your toes, feeling your heartbreak. You couldn’t believe it. Your sweet protective Bucky who had beaten up Miles Morales in 8th Grade for standing you up for an arcade date and breaking your heart. “I, I, I got to go my flights early tomorrow. My, my family will be wondering where I am” you stumbled over your words trying to get off the phone as quick as possible not wanting anyone to hear you cry.

Senior year was one of the most painful years, Bucky had met you at your house the day you got back, sitting on the wooden steps to your porch. He looked like he had barely slept, much like you. You were an only child, but your older cousin who was transferring to Michigan State University for his second year had come home with you. He took a look at Bucky and then back at you, you nodded telling him it was fine and that you had this. He walked inside but not before muttering punk under his breath. Bucky winced, he looked at you his blue eyes that once shone with nothing but love and adoration for you, now looked blank, empty, and almost unrecognisable. His brown hair which he had cut in his Sophomore year looked a mess. He started towards you, but you held your arm out.

“Don’t,” you said. He looked crestfallen and his heart shattered as you struggled to hold yourself together. “Doll, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, please, look at me, ill make it up to you, it will never happen again” he pleaded with you, his ocean blue eyes stared at your red brimmed eyes, cheeks puffy and streaked from all the crying over the last 16 hours. “Just don’t” You warned him. “Look, baby, it was a mistake, it meant nothing to me” he continued to plead despite your warning reaching out for your hand. His words hit you like a knife, you two hadn’t slept together yet and here he was claiming this meant nothing. You wrenched your hand free from him his touch burning you with his betrayal. “It meant nothing. It meant nothing!?! If it meant nothing you wouldn’t have slept with this Natasha James” you whispered. Bucky flinched at the use of his real name. Oh, how you wanted to shout, thrash scream at him and tell him you would forgive him, but you couldn’t. You had looked up the girls Instagram that night when you laid in bed crying and you couldn’t help but compare yourself to her the gorgeous read head with curves in all the right places. You started to walk towards your house. Unable to keep the tears back and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, Bucky called out for you, pleading with you. “I thought you loved me James, but it clearly meant something to you, or else you wouldn’t have thrown away two years of dating and 12 years of dating for sex with someone that wasn’t me, we were meant to be each other’s firsts, but you decided you couldn’t wait to get your dick wet so you went and fucked this chick you’ve known for what 5 minutes?” you cried out in anger, Bucky flinched again as if you’d slapped him. “Actually, I met her last year at one of our away game parties” he mumbled, his feet kicking the dirt around his feet. “I think you should leave” you whispered, choking back a sob before you ran into your house slamming the door behind you.

You and Bucky barely spoke that entire final year of school, you had been voted cheer Captain at the end of the summer semester, much to Jane’s approval, and you loved being a cheerleader, so you threw yourself into that as well as the school’s production of Little Shop of Horrors. You cheered at the games putting on your show face and hyping up the crowds. You wowed in the role of Audrey in the show, avoided parties with the football team and buckled down focusing on your exams and audition for the performing arts programme at the University of Michigan. After Bucky had realised, he was never going to get you to forgive him he had ended up dating Natasha. The news hit you like a sucker punch to begin with but after meeting up with Wanda, Carol, and Jane during the spring break you made your peace with it. You even smiled at Bucky in the hallways when you saw each other. By the time Graduation rolled around you had healed.

November 2011

You ended up getting into the University of Michigan on a partial scholarship thanks to your cheerleading and you were enjoying the performing arts programme, the performing arts programme at the Uni had really blown up after the whole viral “A Very Potter Musical” back in 2009 and you were thrilled to be there. You had settled right in making friends with a young lad from your course Loki Laufeyson right away. He was attractive in an unconventional way, with long black hair, a tall skinny frame but he still had muscles. You two had been cast opposite each other in Romeo and Juliet during your first year and had become good friends. You even ran into Pietro frequently he had gotten a football scholarship and couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you on the sidelines one November game. Pietro didn’t really “do” social media and hadn’t paid any attention to Wanda as you had told her, after Bucky’s betrayal you hadn’t spoken much with Sam or Pietro, after all, they were his friends and were now Uni students. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bucky’s girl,” he said grinning at you after the game, ruffling your hair like you were 5 again. You couldn’t help but wince at the old pet name, everyone in the group had called you it, Sam, Wanda, Carol even Jane but you hadn’t been Bucky’s girl for a year, well longer if you take into consideration the fact he’d been chatting with Natasha on and off for the entire year before they slept together. “It’s just Y/N” or you can call me cutie you said winking at Pietro, he chuckled. “How about I just call you tomorrow?” he retorted, you felt yourself blush. Pietro had always been a cocky confident guy, his silver-blonde hair covering his ice blue eyes, he had always been a hit with the ladies, but he seemed that bit more attractive, slightly leaner, still confident but not arrogant. You shrugged before pulling out a sharpie from your bag, you wrote down your number on his arm. He cocked his head puzzled. “I changed it last year after Bucky wouldn’t stop blowing it up with apology texts,” you said simply. Before Pietro could respond you ran off to join the rest of your squad and headed for the changing room.

True to his charm and word, Pietro called you the next day offering to be your personal guide and show you all the hidden beauty spots of the campus. You accepted; even though you had been here for two months already. You walked around the campus and had a great time, you felt yourself really relaxing and laughing at his corny jokes and the way he wiggled his silver eyebrows at you whenever he made a bad joke. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed, and you meant really laughed, the kind of clutched over struggling to get air into your lung’s laughter that the Silver-haired, blue-eyed cutie gave you. By the time Pietro had finished his tour the sun was beginning to dip, he walked you back to your dorm ever the gentleman. However, this time when your hands brushed against each other he grabbed your hand and spun you around. His hand was cool and smooth, a stark difference to Bucky’s warm calloused hands. The pair of you walked back hand in hand in comfortable silence. When you got to your dorm you leant against your door, your eyes meeting Pietro’s ice blue eyes, the almost sparkled. Pietro positioned himself so that he had one hand above your head, the other to your side trapping you between the door and himself. He leant down and kissed you. It was soft and delicate, his cool lips sucking the air out of your lungs. He pulled away winking at you before he sauntered off to join his teammates at some frat party.

That was the beginning of a three-year relationship with Pietro, you two had been on multiple dates, some official, some were just bumping into each other at the same party and then spending the rest of the evening together all through November and early December of your first year. He even came to support you at your Cheerleading competitions. Neither of you had put a label on it, but he had changed his home screen to a picture of the pair of you, it was one captured by Peter Parker, funnily enough, he was visiting the Uni with his photography club and captured the moment Pietro had picked you up after the Wolverines won their 6th game. He spun you around before dropping you down and kissing your forehead. Pietro didn’t know that you had seen his home screen. However as you were both travelling home for the Holidays you had agreed to travel together, Pietro had offered to drive but you had refused. Telling him that it would be easier for you to drive as you would be running lines late and therefore you could swing by his apartment on the way out of town. It was only a short drive to Dearborn but with the extra holiday traffic, you estimated it would take at least an hour to get to your parents. You connected your iPod to the car via AUX and pulled up your playlist you had made for the drive. You avoided all Christmas songs, and you were sick of them they played everywhere you went. Instead, you opted for Taylor Swift, damn she had blown up since 2008.

After about 30 minutes of driving as you hit the peak of the holiday traffic, you leant over to turn down the volume of your music. Comfortable with the pace of the traffic, you turned your head to Pietro. “So,” you began. “What’s up Bunny?” Pietro asked snapping his eyes up from his phone. “Well, I just thought now might be a good time to talk, we’re obviously going to run into a lot of our old friends, and there’s no way Wanda won’t know something is going on here, and I, I saw your lock screen,” you said, you could feel yourself blush, there was something about Pietro, he made you feel like a high school sophomore all over again. “So you were wondering what we are?” the amusement in Pietro’s voice didn’t escape your notice, you could feel yourself getting embarrassed. Of course, he was a college Sophomore, you two had never had the exclusive talk, how could you be so silly. You stared straight ahead focusing on the slow-moving traffic. Oh god, you wanted to die. Pietro noticed the change in your demeanour and instantly felt bad, he grabbed your right hand from the steering wheel. “Hey Bunny, look at me,” he said softly, you turned your head to face him. “We are exclusive, we are a couple, I’m sorry you felt the need to ask, but I adore you, so we are a thing,” he said stroking circles on the back of your hand. You smiled and nodded to yourself.

Almost everyone had made it back for the Holidays, excluding a few people, Bucky, Carol, and Jane, they all had their reasons, but you couldn’t help but feel a little sad that Carol and Jane had been unable to make it back. Wanda was elated for you and Pietro, to your surprise she threatened Pietro and not you. Christmas break came and went all too quickly. Pietro even brought you a small gift even though he didn’t celebrate Christmas, what with being Jewish. He was also very touched at your gift a small, framed copy of the photo of his lock screen, only in black and white except for the ribbon in your hair, the number on his Jersey matching his number painted on your cheek. The next year also seemed to rush by, between keeping on top of your studies, your rehearsals for the play, football matches, nationals for your cheerleading competition. It felt like you had barely any time to breathe.

2012

The summer between your 1st year and 2nd year was a small respite, Pietro had decided to stay in his apartment for the summer, he had a summer job and you decided to stick around after trying out for a local theatres summer production of Grease, unsurprisingly you had been cast as Patty Simcox a cheerleader. “How ironic, my little cheerleader playing a cheerleader” Pietro joked. You just rolled your eyes at him, that night Pietro stayed in your dorm, you were going to have to move out for the summer, your roommate for the year had decided she was going to move into her Sorority House next year and was going home for the summer. You and Pietro were cuddled up on the sofa watching Grease, you had your legs over Pietro and the arm of the sofa. To your surprise, Pietro had confessed he’d never seen it and had asked you to watch it with him so he could see who you would be playing. You let out a sigh. “What’s up bunny?” he asked not taking his eyes of the movie, he was rubbing small circles on your legs. “Student housing emailed me today, they said since Sophie is moving out and going home for the summer. I can’t stay in my dorm this summer. I’m trying to figure out where to go as the apartment I want to rent isn’t available until August” you said, blowing your hair out of your face. “Move in with me for the summer,” Pietro said without skipping a beat. “We’re not going to be around much in the daytime, you’ve spent a lot of nights at mine recently and it’s just for the summer, theirs a spare bedroom where you can store your stuff, and Wanda will be visiting in 3 weeks, it’s no big deal,” he said as he continued rubbing circles on your legs. You stared at him for a moment, your mind racing. “Okay,” you said nervously biting your lip. “Okay, I’ll move in for the summer,” you said again this time sounding surer of yourself. You picked up the remote and pressed pause on the DVD. You and Pietro had been dating for most of the school year, and he had been nothing but a gentleman never pressuring you for more than you were comfortable with, he knew Bucky had hurt you and you still hadn’t had sex yet as a result of it. You stood up a peeled of your jumper, Pietro cocked his head with his cute, puzzled expression. You didn’t say anything, instead, you removed your athletic shorts leaving you in nothing but one of Pietro’s football jerseys and your panties. You walked to your bedroom. Pietro didn’t move. After a few moments of waiting for him to follow you walked to your door frame and coughed, Pietro looked at you. “Well, are you coming or not handsome?” you asked leaning against your frame, so his jersey rid up slightly exposing the skin of your stomach. Pietro chucked his phone on the sofa before throwing you over his shoulder. That night you and Pietro had sex for the first time.

December 2012

Summer came and went in a blur of a heatwave, and lots of sex. You moved into your apartment off-campus, you spent a lot of time hanging out with Loki between classes, throwing ideas back and forth for an original piece you had to work on for the spring showcase. Pietro and you would always ride to games together, with Pietro being in his third year, the team bus rides were no longer compulsory and as the college couldn’t afford for the squad to have a bus you had to make your own way to the away games anyway. You and Pietro had driven home for Winter break, your family had decided to head to Boston this year, that way your cousin could see his family, however as you and Pietro had a game two days after New Years it didn’t make sense for you to fly out for such a short period off time. This was your first Christmas in years where you wouldn’t be seeing your family, or even celebrating really. However, Wanda and her Mum had insisted Pietro bring you home with him for the winter break. So that was how you found yourself sat in Pietro and Wanda’s basement drinking beer and hanging out with the old gang along with some new faces. Carol had brought home her girlfriend Valkyrie, Jane and Sam were there, even Peter Parker who was now a senior was there he’d even brought his girlfriend Gwen with him. Wanda had brought home her Boyfriend James or Vision as he was affectionately known. Wanda was studying Fashion in NYC; Vision was studying IT and was a whiz with technology. You were cuddled up in the corner of the sofa with Pietro, he was playing some game with Sam and Peter and you were scrolling through your IG feed. Taylor Swift’s latest Album Red playing through the speakers. Pietro had groaned but with Sam being a secret Swifty he was quickly outvoted. You kissed Pietro’s cheek getting up to grab another bottle of beer each. You were technically underage for another few months, but Wanda’s mum had said if you were going to drink whilst you were here, she’d rather you did it under her roof in a safe controlled manner.

You heard him before you saw him. Being the gracious guest you are, you had noticed the beer was low in the fridge, so you were restocking it when you heard Bucky’s familiar laugh. You may have made peace with what Bucky had done but other than a quick congratulations and farewell at Graduation you hadn’t spoken since that summer back in 2010.

Bucky walked over to the fridge, you had changed your hair colour since you’d last seen him at Graduation in 2011, your usual hair was now a chocolate brown, you had your head in the fridge still when he coughed. “Hi I’m Bucky,” he said. You took a deep breath, grabbed three bottles of beer and pulled your head out of the fridge, turning around to face him. “I’m well aware who you are, Bucky,” you said handing him a beer. Bucky’s eyes widened as his ocean blue eyes reached yours. “Hey Buck,” you said softly. “Y/N. I didn’t recognise you” he grinned, moving to hug you. You let it happen, standing stiffly in his arms. “Yeah it's been a minute, how’s school, and Natasha, I heard you got into UDM?” you asked shooting him a smile before twisting the lid of your bottle. “Yeah, I did. Schools great kicking my ass a bit and Natasha and I broke up actually” he said avoiding eye contact with you. You and Bucky made polite conversation for a few minutes Pietro finished up his game with Sam and Peter, noticed you hadn’t returned so made his way over to you and Bucky. “Hey Bunny,” he said kissing the corner of your head before wrapping his arms around you. “Hey Buck, long time no see!” Pietro said. Bucky stood frozen for a few seconds processing what he had just witnessed. “Hey, Pietro Yeah. It's been a hot minute, so you two are a couple? You guys look cute congrats. Oh man, wow is that Peter over there? I barely recognise him I’m going to go say hey. Catch you guys later!” Bucky said practically running over to Peter. You turned around and kissed Pietro. “Come on Quicksilver, let’s see if I can beat you at Mario Kart,” you said pulling him over to the sofa.

December 2012 – August 2014

Winter break came and went. Your second year at Uni whizzed past. Pietro even joined you and your family for your annual summer vacation in Miami, your grandparents were getting on a bit so you decided to skip the summer production of Hairspray. By the time, your third year rolled around you and Pietro settled into a routine between school, studying, games and rehearsals you would steal kisses in the hallways, meet one another at classes with hot drinks, coffee for Pietro not that he needed a boost of energy and usually a hot chocolate for you. After football games, Pietro would drive you back to his apartment. If it were a rare free evening, you’d curl up with a movie at yours. Hanging onto the small moments of peace. You both knew Pietro was going to be moving to New York after he graduated. He’d been studying business and was going to start a fashion company with Wanda. You also both knew that long-distance wasn’t going to work, you’d been majoring in performing arts, but you had also been taking extra courses to help with a career in advertising as a backup. Saying your goodbyes to one another sucked ass. You and Pietro had left your annual Miami holiday a week early to spend a week in Florida visiting the Theme Parks, Wanda and Vision were also going to meet you there. Neither of you had grown up exceptionally wealthy, but Wanda and Pietro’s dad Max Eisenhardt had reached out to them a few years back and had insisted on paying for the four of you to have a group vacation. He had tried to convince Wanda and Pietro to book a holiday in Germany where he was living but they had refused. Pietro had already packed up his apartment and moved most of it back to his family home whilst you finished up school for the year. He had been staying with you for the summer before joining you on your vacation so when you headed to the airport it was time to say your goodbyes. “Be good Bunny, don’t cause too much mischief with Loki and stay in touch. I love you my little Bunny” he said wiping the tears from your eyes. You couldn’t say anything, so you just held him tight and cried.

Tagging the bestie @lannycleave because I have promised to write a sad Steve one as a way to punnish myself

Part 2

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Broken, battered, and beautiful-chapter 2

if you haven’t go check out chapter 1

 “Oh hi.” even in the privacy of her own home elain was clothed in a fine dress made of satin, the color of sunflowers with a high neckline. Gwyn tried to muster up embarrassment for her own plain outfit that most definitely could have been mistaken for sleep wear, but she couldn’t find the energy to care.  

“Hello, um I wanted to come by to say thank you for the other day.” Gwyn felt awkward and uncomfortable, this female had done nothing to wrong her and yet it was difficult to let the protective and territorial instincts go. Azriel was not hers, it was a mantra she replayed in her mind over and over. The words a double edge sword encouraging her to move on with a torturous truth. 

“It’s no worry, I never would have left you on the ground at night” elain smiled warmly, “and besides nesta would have my head if something had happened to you.” gwyn gave her a tight smile, the most she could force herself to manage. 

They stood in an unpleasant silence, the only sound being the soft anxious tapping of gwyns hand on her thigh, a nervous tick she had yet to break. thankfully after a couple dreadfully long seconds elain spoke, “would you like to come in?” 

Gwyn let out a sigh of relief and gave a slight nod of her head. She then followed Elain into her home. As Gwyn's eyes roamed the place she felt as if she had stepped into the spring court, or what it used to look like, she supposed from what Feyre had told her about its current state. 

Elain must have noticed her curious glance at the windows stretching from ceiling to floor with the sun blazing through them, “when I was looking for an apartment I wanted as much sunlight as possible,” she paused to reposition one of her many many plants. “For me” she paused once again, taking in the almost overwhelming amount of blossoms. “And the flowers. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a slight obsession with greenery.” 

“Slight is a modest term.” gwyn noted. She laughed. The sound was sweet and full and covered the room in a joy that could not be masked. Gwyn wished she could say she couldn’t remember the last time she laughed like that, but she had. Darkness coated the once joyous memorie, infecting it with anger and malice. Pain was soon to follow but Gwyn shoved it down, pressing a lid on her emotions, better to feel nothing at all then the heartbreak of what she had lost.

Elain quickly picked up a few scattered papers on her table and pulled out a seat for gwyn. “Would you like some tea? Emerie gave me a few samples but I haven’t had the chance to try them yet.” 

“I would recommend the strawberry green tea, personally I think it’s her best, though most of them are… editable.” 

She raised an eyebrow “most?”

“Well for Emerie's sake I’ll let you form your own opinions but between you and me, I’d keep a safe distance from the lemon ginger.” 

Elain looked amused. “I will keep that in mind.” 

gwyn watched as elain made the tea quietly humming to herself. She set down the cup in front of her, “one strawberry green tea.” Gwyn gave a nod of gratitude before quickly realizing that that was a poor response. God had she lost her manners along with her dignity. 

“Thank you.” 

Once again silence fell over them, the conversation they had both known gwyn had come for hung in the air, hovering, waiting for a moment to strike. But Gwyn had made a promise to Catrin, a promise to her found sisters, and a promise to herself that she would be brave. 

“What happened between you and azriel?” she blurted. Elain took a deep breath before answering, everything about her expression and posture, unsurprised by the question. 

“In order to really understand, I would have to start from the beginning. Are you positive you want to hear the truth?”

No. yes. No.  She did not want to hear, she desperately did not want to hear but she had to know. “Yes.” 

Elain nodded, “It’s been about four years since I became fae and the subject still isn’t my-favorite, but four years ago I was engaged to a man named grayson. Looking back he was truly dreadful and a little bit of a tool. But I was in love, or.” Elain’s cheeks flushed slightly. “what I thought was love. He truly hated the fae and when I became the one thing he hated more than he loved me, his love quickly became fear and his fear fueled his hatred. I was dependent on others, in more ways than one. And with my world being literally and figuratively turned upside down, the one person who was supposed to love and support me through it all, abandoned me without hesitation. Although the argument could be made that I was coddled my entire life and this was a much needed wake up call.” Elain paused, letting out a shaky breath. 

“If this is too difficult for you we can stop.” As much as Gwyn needed to hear this story she would not force Elain to relive her trauma. 

“I owe it to you and to my sister to avoid bad blood between us and if telling you this story is what it takes, then that is the least I can do.” She took a sip of her tea. “Now I knew I had just lost who I thought was the love of my life and then I was forced into the hands of another.” 

Her stepbrother, she thought. “Lucien.” 

“Yes,” elain smiled fondly. “He was my breaking point. All I wanted was to collapse into myself, to pretend that I was still human. But with him I couldn't. He was a walking reminder of everything I hated about myself. The only thing that haunted me more than him was my own reflection. I thought that if I avoided him I could ignore the magnetic pull that drew me to him.” She looked down and bit her lip. “Denial was a personal favorite of mine.” 

Gwyn raised her eyebrows. “I can tell.” she watched as color flooded her cheeks and Gwyn's lips twitched. 

“But it was proving to be a little more difficult than I had expected. And then there was this dark, attractive male who seemed to be intrigued by me. He was kind and he was there so I forced myself to believe I had genuine feelings for him, that I desperately wanted him.” Gwyn's stomach lurched but she forced it down. “He was a perfect distraction, there were these small moments where our fingers would brush or I would find him looking at me as if he desired me. I needed so badly to believe that this was what I wanted and yet I felt nothing. I thought that becoming fae had broken me. I made up my mind that if I kissed him, the feeling I craved would come. So at solstice, when I knew there was no way for him to avoid me, I gave myself an opening and waited until after dinner to give him his gift. He gave me a necklace and kissed my neck. We were moments away from, well you know, when he left very suddenly. I was confused and a little bit hurt and I still felt nothing. So I followed him, and well” elain let out a bitter laugh. “Let's just say Azriel said some rude things.” 

Gwyn’s face was one of constant shock as elain told her the shadowsinger’s conversation with the high lord of the night court. “The only thing he could say about you was Three Brothers, Three Sisters?!?”. 

“Yep.” 

“He thought he was entitled to you because his brothers were mated to your sisters?!? Even though you had a mate??” 

“Exactly” 

“And you guys were so not on the same page, you guys weren’t even in the same gods damn book.” 

She laughed. “I guess that’s what happens when you don’t communicate.” Gwyn's thoughts were a cage of her own making, one she couldn’t escape. She was outraged on behalf of elain, how dare azriel make some sort of claim on her, she was not a toy to be passed around. But she couldn’t help but think first Mor than Elain, what the hell was she to him? Had it all been a game of pretty words and sweet lies? Was she just one of many? 

“Anyway, I decided that the distraction wasn’t worth putting myself through whatever was going on with him so I gave him back the necklace. I assume that he saw you sometime that night or in the next few days because I saw you with the necklace a couple weeks later. I know that I did not have the right to be upset considering I gave it back but, for me, it confirmed that my decision was the right one.” 

Azriel had, in fact, come to her that night Gwyn thought back to solstice 2 years ago. It was the first time she had been alone with him, It was the first time she'd been alone with any male since.

 “Azriel and I barely spoke or interacted since solstice when a couple weeks ago, when I was shopping in town I saw him so drunk he could barely walk. I’d seen him with you a couple times and it seemed like he had changed so I went to go help him and he tried to kiss me. I slapped him and walked away. The next day he came by my apartment and begged me not to tell you. I told him I owe him nothing and closed the door in his face.”. She didn’t owe Gwyn anything either and yet she still defended her. “I then told Nesta what had happened and asked her to tell you.” elain took another sip of tea. “I thought it would have been better if it came from her.” 

Gwyn watched elain, even doing something as mundane as drinking her tea, in this house, she looked more peaceful and in her element as she had ever seen her. Gwyn was also positive this was the most she had ever heard her talk and despite a part of her still wanting to rip her head off, she was grateful for the female and she was sympathetic for what she had gone through, and she was embarrassed for not seeing this side of azriel. 

“I’m sorry.” 

A puzzled look graced elain’s face. “What for?”

“For what you went through, for whatever part I played in your pain.” she chuckled at that. 

“You did nothing wrong, besides if anyone should be apologizing it should be me.” 

Gwyn snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”

“How about it should be azriel apologizing to the both of us.”

“Deal”

elain looked out the window. “Oh speaking of solstice, I have to do my gift shopping.” she glanced at Gwyn, something in her gaze she couldn’t detect, maybe pity, maybe spite from an old grudge, maybe it was genuine, maybe a mix. Whatever it was made her ask, “would you like to come with me?”

And even if it was pity or spite, even if all elain saw was a broken toy in need of saving, she said “yes.”

tagging: @stars-and-scripts  @valkygwyn @em---r @whereisvaughan @purplecherrypie @lattristantketchup @bookish-isha @meher-sumedha @jennysofoldstone @ratabrasileira