#i moved it to the stool by my bookshelves where i collect books i want to get rid of and I'll take it to the bookstore when

[bluesey-182]

i made a joke to my partner that "bragging rights of having a pretty special edition isn't a good enough reason to hang on to books i hated" and then i realized that... actually, no, that's not a joke. i need to stop hanging onto books i despised, loathed, had a horrible time reading, just bc it's a pretty fairyloot edition. i can sell these things, but i can also bring them to the bookstore i used to work at and get trade credit and buy books i actually care about for 50% off. like i have so many books and so little space, so why am i letting books i hated take up spots on my bookshelves? it's time to let 'em go

[messers-moony]

So Perfect | J.P

Paring: Young!James Potter X Fem!Lupin!Reader

Summary: James falls in love with a bookstore called, Lupin’s Library, and can’t believe what they’re going through. 

The bookstore was quiet most days. It was a tiny little two-story shop in London. The idea was it had a book for everyone. On the second story was a living quarter for the two siblings that worked at the shop. It was a small two-bedroom apartment, but it did what it was needed to do. 

Remus and Y/n Lupin were the owners of the shop. It was their eighteenth birthday gift from their parents. Growing up, their parents didn’t have much, so for them, it means a lot. The name of the shop was something simple - Lupin’s Library - but inside held memories that they would cherish forever. 

When they started the business, it was slow. Most days, no one would enter, and Y/n worked a separate job to help Remus pay the bills. But after a year it seemed that people preferred the shop over any other place in London. They enjoy the warmness of Remus’ smile and the radiant happiness from Y/n. 

Remus worked behind the counter at the register, and when there wasn’t a customer, he was reading on the stool he sat on. Y/n did inventory and stocked books. She didn’t like to sit still, preferring to be on her feet moving around. Sometimes early in the morning, she’d grab donuts to leave on the front counter for early customers. 

There was nothing like Lupin’s Library, and that’s why people loved it. 

The bell-ringing announced a new customer into the shop. It was a tiny ding, nothing majorly loud. Y/n was stocking books while Remus was sleeping upstairs in his room. Over the past winter, he had caught a nasty cold leaving Y/n to take over the bookstore until he got better while also trying to take care of him. 

“One moment, and I’ll be with you!” Y/n called as she slipped the last book into place. 

She skipped to make it behind the counter where she met a man about her age - twenty-five. He was taller than her, maybe just around six feet. His hair was messy and curled slightly at the ends. His eyes were a beautiful hazel, and he radiated a certain playfulness Y/n could get used to. 

“Mornin’ sir!” James was taken away by her light and fluffy accent, “What can I do for you today?”

He smiled, “Looking for something to read for my son.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s about to turn five.” James smiled proudly. 

“That’s adorable!” Y/n gushed, “Any way we have magic treehouse books, maybe he’d like those?” 

“Maybe, he’s been begging for new books.” James ran a hand through his hair, “It’s the only way I can get him to calm down.”

Y/n smiled, “You know, on Saturdays, I read to kids. If you want him to join us, he’s more than welcome. Saturdays, I read to kids five to nine. Sundays, I read to kids from ten to fifteen.”

“Wow,” James replied, “I’d love to take him in if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!” She smiled, “Everyone’s welcome.”

James gave a grin in response as he searched the Library for these Magic Treehouse books. It took him five minutes before even finding the kids section, but when he did, James grabbed the set of them. He placed each book on top of another and brought them to the counter of the pretty girl. 

He watched at how gently and smoothly she moved the books to scan them. James was so focused he didn’t even notice her handing him the books and the receipt, “But I didn’t-“

“It’s on the house.” Y/n replied, “I’ll see you Saturday.”

James’ face flushed; he hadn’t felt this way since Lily, “I’ll- um- see you Saturday….”

He walked out of the shop with a happy smile placed on his face. James hadn’t felt flustered and nervous around a girl since Lily in seventh grade. He had been head over heels for her since then. They began dating in sophomore year and had Harry right out of high school. It was poor planning on their part, but Harry was everything James had dreamed of. It wasn’t until Harry’s second birthday when Lily said she couldn’t take it anymore. 

Not only had it broken James’ heart, but it broke Harry’s too. Harry had no idea where his momma had gone. What broke James’ heart the most was Lily saying she wanted absolutely nothing to do with either of them. Lily had placed the engagement ring on the wooden table, collected her things, and left, just like that. 

Then it was just them against the world. James and his little mini-me, as Sirius would say. Sirius was the one who recommended the bookshop. He wouldn’t shut up about how cute the boy behind the register was (“Oh James, his hair looks so fluffy!”). It was like hearing a broken record. James didn’t see the boy with fluffy hair, but he did see the girl with the radiant smile. 

That night James sat beside Harry in his twin bed. Harry was thrilled to see the new books on his shelf, and as James began reading, Harry became more hooked with each page. When James shut the book, Harry was devastated. He wanted to know more and finish the book! Alas, he had to go to sleep, and if he did, James promised him that they’d finish the book tomorrow. 

When James brought up going to Lupin’s Library on Saturdays, Harry was ecstatic! He couldn’t wait to meet the new kids and begin a new book. By the time Saturday rolled around, they had finished two of the Magic Treehouse books. James entered the shop with Harry in front of him, hands on the little boy's shoulders. Now at the counter, he saw the boy with fluffy hair. 

“Good afternoon, sir.” He greeted in the same soft accent, “Here for the kids reading circle?”

Harry nodded, and the boy chuckled, “Great. It’s just in that back corner.”

James thanked him before bringing Harry to the back corner, where kids were already sat on a rug. Blankets were spread among some of them, and the girl was sitting on a chair in the corner while the kids made a semi-circle around her. James beckoned Harry to sit, and James smiled at the girl in the chair. 

As the reading began, James decided to venture through the bookstore. The bookshelves were surprisingly clean and rid of any dust. The books were taken care of, not a crease or bent page unless he went into the used section. Some people preferred new books; some preferred used. There truly was a book for everyone in here. 

He made his way back to the front desk with some books he had gained from the shelves. A multitude of paperbacks and gently placed them on the counter. Remus put a bookmark in his book and began to scan each book just as smoothly as the girl. His hands didn’t seem as soft. They looked calloused and scarred. Sirius’ type, all the way. 

“You wouldn’t happen to see a boy with straight black hair in here sometimes?” Remus quirked an eyebrow, “Wears ripped jeans and a leather jacket?”

Remus smiled, “Yes, we get him in here quite frequently.”

“Do you mind if I got your number for him?” James questioned, “He’s talked the world of you and your bookstore.”

“It’s not just my bookstore.” Remus correctly playfully, “My sister works it with me, who I see you’ve been well acquainted with.”

James’ face flushed pink, “I didn’t- I don’t-“

“It’s fine.” Remus replied, handing him the books and the receipt, “She’s a big girl. I trust her to make her own decisions.”

“I didn’t pay for these.”

“You can thank my sister.” Remus winked as he sat on the stool and began reading. 

James grunted at not paying again. He rummaged through his wallet and placed forty pounds in the tip jar. Remus chuckled and shook his head at the gesture, appreciative nonetheless of the man's kindness. Another thirty minutes went by, and Harry was running back into his dad's arms. 

“That was awesome!” Harry exclaimed softly, “She was so nice! She gave us lollipops!”

“Did she?” James asked, and Harry nodded. 

Y/n smiled softly as she joined Remus behind the counter, grabbing some books to stamp while all the kids filed out to find their parents, “Looks like we’ll be back next Saturday.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Y/n replied, “I’ll look forward to it.”

Harry smiled, “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

James and Harry walked out of Lupin’s Library together with smiles on their faces. Harry wouldn’t stop jumping with joy the entire day. He couldn’t get over how lovely the lady was and how she gave him a lollipop. Truthfully, it was the little things when it came to kids. Remus chuckled as they left the library together. 

“He quite likes you, I’d say.”

“Little kids like anyone who give them candy.”

“I don’t mean the boy.” Remus replied, “I mean the adult who seems quite fond of you.”

Y/n hmphed, “And what about the man who wears the leather jacket and the straight black hair?”

Remus blushed, “‘Oh, Y/n, he’s so perfect.’” Y/n mocked.

“You’re annoying.” Remus nudged her with his elbow. 

“Love you too.” 

It wasn’t until Wednesday when he came back in again. Y/n had been absent from the shop due to having to help her friend bartend. Despite working at the bookshop full time, she still had a part-time job bartending. If she spent the whole day at the bar, then she spent the entire night at the bookstore. Working two jobs was no easy feat, but she did it. 

James walked in and wandered aimlessly after not seeing or hearing her. Remus smiled amusedly as he walked in and continued to read his book. James felt the spines of the books but never plucked one from the shelf. Remus got tired of his lost puppy look and finally called to him. 

“She’s not here, you know.”

“Oh,” James muttered, “Where- Where is she?”

Remus placed his book down after bending the corner of the page, “Helping a friend.”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” James replied nervously as he went to walk out the door. 

“Wait!” Remus called, and James turned, “I can- um- I can give you her schedule if you want.”

“Schedule?” James questioned, “She doesn’t work here full time?”

Remus shook his head, “No, she works part-time at a bar around the block. It helps-“ He scratched the back of his neck, “It helps pay the bills.”

“You guys don’t make enough to stay in business?” 

“No, we don’t.” Remus murmured, “I can't really do much else other than work here, so Y/n took up another job. Which she hates, and it drains her.” 

James was appalled. These people were so nice and kind. How weren’t they making enough to stay in business? Remus looked utterly embarrassed by the whole thing, confessing to a customer that they were struggling. James, himself, was a Nephrologists at a hospital not too far away. His family was small, and he made a lot of money. 

Without another word, James left the shop leaving Remus in a confused state. He walked to an ATM that was only a couple of blocks away before pulling out a decent amount of cash. James walked back into the bookstore and placed an envelope on the counter. Remus stared at it confused as he got on his own two feet to open it. As he peeled back the seal, he saw what was inside. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t-“

“Please.” James begged, “Harry would be devastated if his favorite place went out of business.”

Remus had tears in his eyes as he placed the money beneath the counter, “Thank you. You have no idea what this means. Our parents bought this shop with almost nothing, and we’ve been trying, but it’s so hard.”

“Well,” James began, “I don’t know if I could live with myself if this place was gone, especially after knowing you’re guys’ kindness.”

Remus smiled and grabbed a piece of paper with a calendar on it. At the bottom, he wrote his and Y/n’s names along with their phone numbers. His handwriting was tidy and curvy. Remus handed the piece of paper to him, and James took it gratefully. 

“It’s Y/n’s schedule along with her part-time bartending job. Our numbers are at the bottom.” Remus motioned to the calendar and at the numbers on the bottom. 

“Thank you, Remus.” James smiled as he pulled out a business card from his wallet, “Obviously, you don’t need me to be your doctor, but my number is on the card if either of you needs anything.”

Remus took the two cards gently, “Thank you, James. We really won’t forget this.”

“I’m glad.” James smiled, “Because I won’t forget you two.”

He left the bookstore with a skip in his step. It felt good to do that. James hadn’t felt this happy since Harry was born, but now he felt like himself again. He felt like that energized boy from middle school who was always destined to be great. 

James didn’t know what it was like to be poor. He grew up with his parents being doctors. They made decent money, and James always got what he wanted. They lived with the higher class. It made his heart ache that Remus and Y/n, who were so sweet we’re struggling. He couldn’t take it. He had to do something. It felt good to do that something. 

Around the block was a bar called Whiskey Woes. It was old and rugged-looking. The black stone bricks seemed to be cracking in every spot. It made James grimace. Walking inside was even worse. The pungent smell of older men with no taste for cologne made him scrunch his nose. But behind the counter, he saw an exhausted girl who was giving it her all to get tips. 

James made his way to sit on a barstool, and sluggishly Y/n made her way to him, “Good afternoon, sir! What can I getcha today?”

“A glass of water?” James replied, lifting his head, and Y/n let out a visible sigh of relief, “‘Course.”

A minute of running around the bar later, a glass of water was placed in front of him, “How’s work, Y/n?”

“How’d you find out my name?”

“Well, your name tag says it.” James pointed, “And I went by the bookstore today.”

Y/n hummed, “Remus tell you where I work, huh?”

“Yeah.” James replied, stirring his water with his straw, “And I want you to quit.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want you to quit working at this shithole.” James repeated, “And take this.”

Another envelope was passed to her across the bar. Y/n eyed him as she broke the glued seal on the white paper. Inside she saw cash, and it didn’t look like just a tiny amount either. Y/n’s face showed visible shock, and James smiled sheepishly. 

“Consider it a tip.”

“This is more than a tip.” Y/n chuckled, “This is like three of my yearly salaries.”

James’ smile faltered just a tiny bit, “You don’t belong here. You belong at the bookstore with Remus. You don’t seem happy here, and Remus sees it too. Says you come home exhausted and drained.”

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?” 

“Maybe go on a date with me?” 

Y/n blushed, “A date?”

“Yeah, a date.” James muttered. 

“I think you deserve a lot more than a date.” Y/n replied, and James smirked, “Only if you’ll let me.”

She laughed, and it made his stomach flutter. It was a sound he wanted to hear forever. It made his heart flip and the corners of his lips quirk. The way she tilted her head back and how her hair flowed as she did so—the crinkle of her nose and the creases of her eyes as she shut them tightly. 

She was so perfect. 

[emerald-amidst-gold]

The Raven with Silver Wings

I’m having so much fun writing Elise! She’s so different than Fane, and I thought that that would make it hard to write her, but it may have been just what I needed to get me inspired again!

As such, I wrote a really, really, really long story with every member of the Awakening crew because Elise found a second family with all of them when her first was whisked away by either her decisions or general life and pursuits. (And bonus Nathaniel x Warden because HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ROMANCEABLE DAMMIT!)

***

The Raven with Silver Wings

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/Warden Amell

Warnings: None

Word count: We don’t talk about it. *smiles*

***

“Has anyone ever told you that your hair’s really pretty, Commander?”

Elise was currently rearranging the books along the far wall of the main hall when the question was asked, her task halted as she turned to look over her shoulder, but saw no one. She looked around a bit, still seeing no one before the clearing of a throat had her shooting her gaze downwards from where she was standing on a small stool. 

“Oh! Sigrun!”, Elise said, gingerly making her way down the small ladder to speak with her dwarven friend more personally. “I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there!” Quite literally. How she continued to forget she had dwarves as Wardens was a mystery. She had constantly done the same thing in Orzammar, and she had known there were dwarves around her.

“It’s all good, Commander!”, Sigrun assured with a small laugh, tattoos on her face wrinkling from her smile. “If I’m easy to miss by your sharp senses, then that means I’m doing something right with my training!”, a sense of pride from the dwarven woman making Elise smile despite the guilt she felt. Sigrun was always so boisterous and lively, not at all someone she would have associated with the Legion when they first met.

“I’m still sorry. I tend to get wrapped up in whatever I’m doing and forget where I am.”, Elise apologized, dusting off her trousers from where she had leaned against the bookshelf. Sigrun tilted her head.

“What exactly were you doing up there?”, she asked, curious eyes looking up at where she had been fussing. “Cleaning?”

Elise nodded, smiling. “Pretty much. I always dusted the shelves in the Circle when I had time between lessons.”, she said, voice taking on a somber tone as she remembered her old home, sorrow and longing intermixing. “I used to find lost books and scrolls, and it was relaxing for me.”

A look of understanding crossed Sigrun’s face. “Ahh, so it’s like a hobby?”, she said, head tilting once more. That constant curiosity and interest always made Elise happy. It reminded her of the children in the Circle, wide eyed and in awe of new findings. She knew Sigrun was no child, but her exuberance reminded her of one sometimes.

Elise hummed, lifting a hand to wiggle her hand back and forth. “Sort of.”, she agreed, somber tone dispersing with the light banter. “I certainly wouldn’t categorize it as a chore or arduous task, so hobby would work!” 

Her dwarven compatriot hummed, tapping her chin in thought. “Kind of like how Anders tries to collect cats every time we’re out.” 

Elise blinked, brows furrowing. “How..so?”, she asked slowly. She didn’t see the correlation. Anders’...habit of trying to start a shelter in the Vigil wasn’t really a ‘hobby’ it was more of… Honestly, she didn’t know. It was intense, though. 

And arduous for the rest of us. She thought with increasing exasperation, remembering the last time the Keep had been almost flooded with stray cats and kittens. Elise adored Anders like a brother, but, sometimes, he was too much, but in an endearing way. An exhausting, tiring, endearing way.

Sigrun shrugged with a smile. “He says cats relax him. Cleaning bookshelves relaxes you!”, she said, clapping her hands together which made Elise startle a bit. “Put those two together, and voila! Hobby!”, she declared, nodding with pride at her connection. 

Elise blinked, mouth gaping a bit before simply nodding. She guessed she could see the connection now, but...you know what? She was just going to let the Legionnaire have this one. She looked so happy, so proud, and it would be wrong to spoil that with harsh reality. The reality that Anders’ ‘hobby’ was more of an obsession. One that had Nathaniel nearly strangling the mage after finding a slew of kittens hidden in one of the sheds. Those happenings usually resulted in her having to mediate between the two men lest she be short two Wardens. Thankfully, Nathaniel always relented quickly when she gave him ‘the look’. The one she reserved for when she was deathly serious, but Anders knew her better, knowing how she was as a child in the Circle, so he poked, teased, and literally, pinched her cheeks with little coos of, ‘Little Ellie is all grown up~ I’m so proud~!’. 

Those happenings usually abated when she pulled out electricity, and then Nathaniel had to be the mediator as he physically took her from the room. 

Despite her exasperation at the memory, Elise could only smile with a shake of her head before stilling, noticing Sigurn was watching her with another curious glint in her eyes. Another bout of connecting the dots, would it be?

“Sigrun?”, she asked, tilting her head a bit to where her long hair cascaded over her shoulder. She had decided to leave it out of her braids today, finding it easier and healthier, sometimes, to leave it freely flowing. She absently brought a hand up to card through the raven waves, blinking when Sigrun’s face lit up, eyes following the action. What was that look about?

“I said it earlier, but your hair is suuuuper pretty! And long!”, the dwarven woman exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across her face. “How do you get it that long?”, another question, another bout of dizzying, but welcome concepts.

Elise chuckled softly, understanding now. “A lot of time. A lot of brushing. And a loooot of staying away from large amounts of fire.”, she divulged, twirling a lock around a finger out of habit and running a pad of a finger against a tip, feeling its paintbrush type softness was slightly rough. She would need to trim it soon. “Why do you ask? Thinking about growing out your locks~?”, she asked, eyes flitting along Sigrun’s own head of short, raven hair. 

Sigrun let out a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, Ancestors, no! I’d probably trip over it if my hair was as long as your’s!”, she said, smiling all the while. “I was just wondering if there was a story behind it!”

Elise tilted her head, still playing with the ends of her hair. “Story?”, she inquired. A story..behind her hair? That was an interesting question.

“Yeah! Most things have a story tied to them! Like is there a reason you like your hair long, or do you just like it...well, long!”, an innocent question filled with new world wonder and unwavering friendliness, two things that made Elise feel like she was right where she belonged, but right now, she also felt warm as her hair undoubtedly held a story within shimmering raven that sometimes glinted with deep blue.

Elise brought the bulk of her hair forward, combing through it with a nostalgic smile. “I guess, in a way, I wanted to be..different.”, she said, deftly beginning to braid a tiny piece. “In the Circle, you were allowed long hair, but it was advised against due to fire and chemical components potentially scorching it, and in turn, your head. If you had it, you tied it up to keep it safe.”, she moved onto another small braid, eyes going hooded with contentment as noire locks glided through her fingers.

“So, you wanted to be a little rebel?”, Sigrun questioned, smile softening as she could tell the memory and reasoning was indeed a story.

Elise nodded, moving onto the next braid. “The Circle was my home. I had a better time than most within its walls, but such isolation, disconnection, makes you yearn to break the mold.”, she said, stopping her braiding for a moment to close her eyes, willing away memories of blindness and blood before reopening them to resume. “I wanted something that defined me as me, and the Enchanters always complimented my hair, so I let it shape me. I was the tower’s ‘little raven’, even though my wings were clipped.”

“But not anymore, right?”, her friend and ally offered, a knowing smile on her face as glittering eyes regarded her with respect and awe. Elise honestly felt as if she didn’t deserve such...loyalty, but she was grateful for it when her own had been severely tested in the past.

She nodded with a warmer smile. “Right. I’m not grounded anymore.”, she affirmed, sighing with contentment as she combed out each braid gingerly, silky locks like water on her fingers. “I’m free to flow as freely as my hair does.”

“That’s the Commander I know and love!”, Sigrun cried with exuberance before leaning towards her a bit, lips pursed with a question. Elise blinked before laughing softly. This woman would always keep her on her toes, wouldn’t she?

“You can touch it if you want?”, she offered, already knowing precisely what the dwarven woman wanted with how two of her fingers tapped together as well as how her gaze was fixated on the shimmering wave of her hair. She wasn’t put off by people wanting to touch her hair, as long as they asked, of course. 

“Can I?!”, Sigrun cried in disbelief, eyes like saucers as her hands stilled in their anxious butting.

Elise nodded, giggling. “Mm-hm! Maybe one morning you could help me brush it?”, she offered more, tilting her head and smiling as wide eyes went even wider. She hoped the orbs wouldn’t dislodge from how large they seemed. That would not be a pretty sight. Then again, nothing was worse than Broodmothers. Broodmothers were...awful. The image nearly made Elise shudder, but was able to ward it off as Sigurn bounded up to her, nodding her head all the while.

“You..”, the dwarven woman said as she bounced towards her. “Are..”, another bounce, another step. “The..”, another, larger bounce closing the distance between them. “Best!”, a cry of praise as careful, but excited hands came to tentatively stroke at a few locks, mouth going agape.

Elise couldn’t help but laugh, leaning down a bit more to give Sigrun better access. “I don’t know about that, but thank you all the same, Sigrun. I really don’t deserve everyone here..”, she admitted, gaze shifting downwards sheepishly and with gentle shame. The hand petting her hair stilled, coming up to lightly tap her cheek in reprimand. She blinked, shifting her gaze back to see exuberance and joy replaced with firmness and admonishment.

“You deserve every bit, Commander.”, Sigrun told her, putting her hands on her hips. “Sod what everyone else says, you’ve done more than they deserve! You’re funny, kind, sharp, bright, and one hell of a Warden! You killed an Archdemon, for crying out loud!”, the praise continued, Elise feeling her cheeks heat up at the fierceness as they were delivered. “And you gave me a chance when I was so ready to scurry off and die in the dark, forgotten and unmourned like the Legion’s oath declares.”, fierce tone turning somber, but grateful. “So, don’t talk like you don’t matter, either. Because it’s not the truth.”

Elise stared in awe at the woman before her before her face broke out into a wobbly grin, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. She was going to start balling! She had felt this companionship before with Leli, with Morrigan, with Zev, even with Sten and Shale, and Oghren, too, but she had nearly forgotten what it felt like after nearly two years disconnected from them all! Oghren was still with her, thankfully, but the only others she had managed to keep in contact with was Zev and Leli, Morrigan’s whereabouts unknown, as well as Shale’s, and Sten back home where he always wanted to go. Loghain, someone she never believed she would grow close to, but had, was off in Orlais, her influence and own personal pleas unable to keep him where he belonged. And Wynne and Alistair...well, those were strained when they had otherwise been full of affection and warmth, and it was why she felt she didn’t deserve another chance of...of a family. But yet, here it was, as surely as the Vigil was physically.

Elise sniffled a bit, a few tears escaping. “T..Thank you, Sigrun.”, he said, eternally grateful as more tears escaped. 

Sigrun’s eyes widened in panic and concern, hands flailing around her. “Ahh, you’re crying? Did I say something wrong?! I said something wrong, didn’t I?!” 

Elise shook her head, laughing, full of light and air. “No, no!”, she assured, wiping at her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt. “You said everything right. I promise.” It was what she needed to hear, having begun her hobby of cleaning as a way to distract herself from such distressing feelings. Sigrun visibly relaxed, letting out a heavy sigh before giving her a relieved smile.

“Ohh, good! I got worried!”, the rogue exclaimed, reaching up to give her arm a pat and a rub. “I’ll keep the mushy stuff to a minimum from now on, though! I don’t like seeing you cry, even if they are ‘happy’ tears.”, making air quotes around the word ‘happy’. 

Elise giggled, steadily calming down to where she wasn’t sniffling anymore. “Wouldn’t want the Legion thinking you’ve gone soft, would we?”, she teased. 

“Definitely not! That’ll get me kicked out!”, a joke in reciprocation making them both laugh before a large clattering sound came from beyond one of the adjacent doors, both she and Sigurn jumping in surprise. “Uhh, what was that?”, Sigrun asked, hands already inching towards one of her daggers. Elise, herself, could feel sparks dancing across her fingertips, readying to unleash a bolt on a darkspawn before a cacophony of voices had her magic dissolving back into the Veil in an instant.

She only wished it would have been a darkspawn. 

“Give me the cat, Anders!”, Nathaniel’s voice boomed from behind the door, furious clambering of two pairs of feet signaling a pursuit. 

“Her name is Madame Whiskers McMeow, and you’ll address her as such!”, Anders’ voice came next, indignant and appalled by the lack of courtesy before a squawk rang true. “Ah! Not the robes, not the robes!”

“Then give me the--Justice, move!”, her Second’s voice addressing another, meaning there was even more to the picture than either she or Sigrun could see, and truthfully, maybe they both didn’t want to see. 

“This is unjust treatment, son of Howe.”, Justice’s voice sounded in its normal, but odd echoing way, the vocal cords powered by Fade energy rather than by natural force. “The creature has done no harm; it should be allowed to stay.”

“Hah! Two against one! I win!”, Anders barked, pride oozing from his voice.

“You didn’t even know what a cat was the other day, so you can’t say it stays!”

“It is wrong to throw a helpless creature out into the elements when it has done no crime except existing!”, a bellow making the walls echo with its timbre. “The Warden-Commander brought you in, did she not?!” Elise shook her head, not even part of the conversation beyond the door, but feeling the need to declare so. She wanted no part of this!

“I’m not a stray cat! And don’t bring Elise into this!”, Nathaniel defended her, unknowing that she was waiting beyond the door when this ‘catfight’ would come rolling to where she and Sigrun were still standing, but with twitching lips, trying not to smile or laugh.

“She is the figure of authority within the Vigil, yes? Then she should be the judge!”

“Ohh, no, no, no!”, Anders butt in again rapidly. “Ellie’ll make me get rid of Madame Whiskers McMeow to a farmhold again! I’m with dour sour on that one!” 

Elise felt her eyebrow twitch at the insult in Anders’ voice. What was wrong with a farmhold?! There were plenty of mice for the cats! She would love to keep each kitten and cat the mage brought back, but it wasn’t safe! At least in the wild they could scurry off and hide!

“Don’t try and kiss up to me, Anders!”

“Oh, I’m not the one who gets your kisses, even though I--!”, a screech cutting Anders’ typical poking as a ripping sound made Elise wince and slowly shut her eyes, knowing precisely what that was. “The robes! Not the robes! These cost a fortune!”

“The healer’s bill is going to cost a fortune if you don’t give me the damn cat!”, more clattering and shattering glass vibrating through the Keep at those words. Elise shot a glance down at Sigrun, the woman giving her a shrug and pout that said, ‘I dunno.’

“Are you imbeciles done tearing up the Vigil with your barbarism?!”, another voice, one that Elise immediately recognized as Velanna’s, rang with authority and sheer disgust. The fun never ended it seemed. 

“Not even close!”, Anders quipped in sing song, but screeched again as another tear occurred. “Do you really want me naked?!”

“No, we do not.”, Justice denied flatly before his voice rose. “Cease this onslaught, Howe!”

“Not until he gives me the CAT!”, Nathaniel roared. 

“This is unjust!”

“Yeah, it is! I feel like I’m being chased by templars again, except more exciting!”

“Do I need to summon the earth to shut you all up!?”

Elise stood transfixed, eyes glued to the door as the commotion grew closer and closer to where she and Sigrun were. She cast her gaze downwards a few times as if to say, ‘Should I?’ Sigrun only shrugged like before, but smirked as she tried to hold back a laugh from the whole situation. She wished she could feel such mirth, but she only felt tired from how much of a mess the room beyond would be once she opened the door. Elise sighed as the raucous noise continued, coming to a decision. 

“I am the Commander, aren’t I?”, she bemoaned, dragging her feet along the plush carpets that would indelibly be sullied the moment she opened the door, but she placed her hand on the handle all the same, a crash making it rattle before a sigh passed her lips again. The movement of Sigrun running to the side to not get caught in the tidal wave had a slight smirk forming on her lips, but she schooled it as the handle was turned. “This is more dread inducing than the Archdemon was..”

The moment Elise began to open the door, she had to stagger back, succeeding in tripping and falling rump first onto the stone floor with a wince as two male bodies, a fluffy white cat held up in the one with a bored expression on its pretty face, and the other pinning that one down with furious glint in steel colored eyes, face hard, came tumbling through its opening. 

“The cat, Anders!”, Nathaniel commanded, pressing his elbow into the mage’s shoulder blades to keep him in place. Anders only let out a laugh before releasing the cat, who bolted like a snowy flurry into the recesses of the Keep.

“Be free, Madame Whiskers McMeow! Bend to no one!”, the mage cackled in victory as Elise saw Nathaniel’s face go deadpan with silent fury and aggravation. Oh, that wasn’t a good look. She knew that look, and it was usually reserved for the haughty recruits.

“I’m going to kill you.”, a threat coming out like a hiss, to which Ander only laughed again, lifting his blonde head, ponytail almost completely undone just like his robes almost were. Elise had to flit her gaze about to not land upon unmentionables.

“Do it.”, Anders challenged, smirk on his face. “You won’t~! Not when your lady love is watching~”, amber eyes flashed over to her, seemingly knowing she was there the whole time. 

Nathaniel’s furious expression fell at that, grey eyes instantly flitting about until it caught sight of her, the orbs widening when they saw her on the ground.

“El--Warden-Commander!”, Nathaniel corrected his exclamation deftly, but only because he probably knew she was not in the mood for sweet nothings as she could feel her face give ‘the look’. “This is..uh..”

“His fault!”, Anders piped up and was rewarded with a sharp push of Nathaniel’s elbow in his shoulder blades. “Eee, easy with the massage!”

Elise sighed, face going lax as she fell backwards onto the floor. She couldn’t keep up the bravado any longer as a bubbling, warm, tight feeling began to fill her chest with light. 

“El!”, Nathaniel’s voice came again, formality thrown to the wind as hurried footsteps rushed over to her, Anders letting out an ‘oof’.

“Looks like you’ve successfully broken our Warden-Commander.”, Velanna’s voice came from the open door, dry and just as exhausted as Elise felt, even as her chest tightened further with air. Why did she feel so...light while feeling so tired?

“She held on longer than most of those who claimed to be just and righteous. I cannot help but applaud her tenacity when dealing with such adversities.”, Justice’s voice came next, also from the door. 

“Oh, she’s fine!”, Anders assured, a slight wince escaping his lips as Elise heard him shift, supposedly looking to sit up. “She’s just about to laugh is all!” Was that what she was about to do? It kind of felt like it, but..

“What--?”, Nathaniel began to question, but was cut off as a loud crash came from down the hall, the door behind them swinging open to hit the stone wall harshly. 

Elise let her head lull backwards to see Oghren staggering through the threshold, a tankard in one hand and eyes wide with panic, but she felt anything but alarmed as the words that poured from his mouth, as surely as the mug of ale in his hand did, had her breaking.

“The schleets are real! I saw them! I sodding saw them!”, Oghren exclaimed, eyes darting around before they landed on his trousers which were...around his ankles before he let out a screech, shuffling back through the door while screaming. A collective series of groans echoed through the room before they silenced when Elise let out a loud screech of laughter, making her roll over on her side as the force shook her. 

“O..Oh..Oh, Maker!”, she howled, tears kissing the corners of her eyes as she dissolved into snorts and giggles. “Ah..ahahaha!”, curling up more as her stomach began to hurt, but she didn’t care! She felt so light, so happy! It was wonderful even though the Keep was a mess! 

“See?”, Anders’s voice broke through her laughter filled hearing, only making her laugh more at its familiarity and warmth. “Told you she was gonna laugh like a banshee.”

“Humans.”, Velanna scoffed, but her tone was fond. “I’m going back to work.”, footsteps issuing her departure.

“Peculiar. She seemingly cannot breathe, but continues to engage in the act. I will have to think on this.”, Justice mused, muttering a bit more as his footsteps, too, ebbed away from her hearing.

“Okay, Commander~”, Anders drawled, coming into her tear veiled view, a friendly smirk on his face and hands on his hips as amber eyes gazed down at her warmly. “Might want to let yourself breathe. I have some amazing magical powers, I know, but I don’t dabble in necromancy!”, he joked, only succeeding in making her laugh more. Sweet Andraste! She felt like she was going to puke, but again, she didn’t care! She hadn’t laughed like this, loudly screeching and tears in her eyes, since before the Blight!

“Ahaha!”, Elise cackled, rolling over onto her other side so harshly that warm, sturdy hands had to stop her from going too far. She looked up to see Nathaniel regarding her warmly, a smirk replacing the furious scowl she had seen earlier. It made her break out into girlish giggles, face heating up from the general sight of her lover. 

“A mess.”, Nathaniel said with a shake of his head, a smirk turning into a smile as he kept a hand on her shaking shoulder. “What will the nobility say?”

“T..That..ahah..I..I’m o..obviously..having..having a good time!”, Elise managed to get out, sucking in deep breaths to calm herself. Oh, yeah, she needed to breathe! She felt dizzy and light and flighty, but also happy, undeniably happy!

“That you are, my love.”, the man next to her giggling form said, rolling his eyes with that quip of fondness and adoration. 

“Ooo, that look in grey eyes tells me some alone time is necessary!”, Anders piped up, deftly dodging a swipe from Nathaniel, backpedaling to stand next to where Sigrun was watching the whole display with amusement and smile. “Don’t you say, Sigrun?”, the mage winking at the dwarven woman.

“Oh, yeah, definitely!”, Sigrun said, nodding sagely before grabbing a hold of Anders’ arm to disappear through the door with a wave. “Have fun, you two! I’m gonna go get this weirdo in some clothes and get him started on cleaning up!”

“Wait, what?!”, a squawk from Anders nearly sent her into a fit of giggles again, but a finger against her lips had them simmering down with a shaky, content sigh. 

Elise laid on the floor as only she and Nathaniel remained, but she felt anything but abandoned, knowing her allies, her friends, her family was lurking within, bright, alive, and present with their myriad of personalities and peculiarities. Her family was strange, but then again, her whole life to this point had been strange. She let out another sigh, eyes hooded as she gazed up at her Second, who was watching her with so much affection and warmth that Elise felt that she could nearly burst from all the emotions running through her. 

“All good? Do I need to do mouth to mouth?”, he offered with a raised eyebrow, grey eyes simmering like hot coals and expression carrying that same heat. Elise giggled, slowly pushing herself up to sit before him on equal ground. 

“Mm, I don’t think so, but you could, if you’re really worried~”, she teased, inching closer to fall into awaiting arms, their warmth and stability making her heart race, but wonderfully so.

“Just for peace of mind, I’ll do it.”, Nathaniel declared with a drop in his voice, brushing a bit of her disheveled hair away from her face as he pulled her closer, immediately capturing her lips in a kiss that had residual mirth fluttering away to allow soft want and desire to take center stage.

Elise let out a tiny hum, fully intent on losing herself in the kiss as it left her feeling even lighter, soft where the edges were sharp, and unbelievably warm, but the cute, but small sound of ‘Mrow!’ had her pulling away to look down, feeling Nathaniel continue his kisses, but against the side of her hair, completely unphased by why she had disconnected.

“Why, hello, Madame Whiskers McMeow~”, Elise greeted the petite, fluffy white cat with large gold eyes looking up at them with a smile, tail swishing majestically. She let out a soft laugh when the cat ‘Mrow’d’ again, patting the chest she was resting against. “Aww, I like her!”

“We are not keeping another one, El.”, Nathaniel growled against the side of her head, giving her a light squeeze.

“Ser Pounce a Lot could use a lady!”, she argued, feeling far more amenable than usual to have another family member. “Then they could have babies!”, excitement filling her with a gasp as she whipped her head up to look at her Second, some of her hair smacking him in the face to which she reached up to dislodge some. “Oops! Sorry..”, turning sheepish with her apology. Yeah, she really needed to trim her hair. 

“Do you really want to keep her, or are you just being ‘spur of the moment El’?”, Nathaniel asked with that same deadpan expression, but there was a spark of mirth and relent within piercing steel. 

Elise nodded, smiling. “I do. We have the room, and she seems a stalwart breed~”, she cooed, turning her attention back to the Madame, reaching down to scratch under her chin softly. She giggled softly when a resounding purr followed from that. “Who’s a pretty kitty~? I’m going to a commission you a collar with a griffin bell~”

“You’re worse than Anders.”, her bastion grumbled, but let her go, knowing when he was bested and when to surrender to her will. “But fine. If it makes you happy, I’ll resist the urge to strangle the mage, but I’m not going to be the one to tell him we’re keeping her.” Elise let out a laugh, turning her gaze away from fluffy snow as it wandered away, instinctual curiosity taking hold of a feline mind. 

“Every one here makes me happy.”, she told the man gazing down at her with all the love and respect she could only have dreamed of once upon a time. “Including you, unfortunately~”, reaching up to poke at a nose with a cheeky grin. She let out a resounding laugh when her poked bear let out a growl and grabbed a hold of her hand, smirking goodnaturedly all the while. 

“That’s toeing the line towards beratement, Commander.”, Nathaniel quipped, giving her a hand a light kiss. “Do I need to report to Weisshaupt to have your cat owning privileges revoked?”

“I’ve heard worse threats from a genlock, Howe~”, Elise punched back, leaning up to lay a soft kiss upon smirking lips. “Don’t make me get the electricity out~”, a tease, a promise as sparking as the affinity for which was her primary weapon. 

“What if I want you to get the electricity out?”, a firmer kiss against her lips making Elise sigh, the sparks beginning to ignite as she was pulled closer, tighter, and a hand laid upon her back. 

“Then..”, she purred as surely as the cats within their halls. “...be a good Warden and go clean up your mess~”, the request a warning amid heat and euphoric promises. The adjacent room was still a mess after all, and she wasn’t going to clean it up, no matter how many kisses Nathaniel gave her. Elise watched as her Second blinked, haze dispersing from the order before he let out a tired sigh, shaking his head with a chuckle soon after.

“As you say, Commander.”

Elise smiled cheerily. “Love you~!”, she chirped. Another chuckle, another light kiss against her temple making her melt was all the reciprocation she needed. 

Within the halls of duty and sacrifice, where countless potential family members had been lost to cruel fate or just bad luck, she was loved and she loved in turn. And she felt no shame in that. Painful longing and bitter memories would test that, but would never make it untrue. She was free to fly as much as raven locks did, even as they housed the inevitable end they all faced, but never alone. Never alone, never again. No matter what the end would bring, only light would guide her into darkness, blue and silver swarming her vision as the family stood, waiting, with outstretched arms for her to fall into them when her wings could no longer carry her. Until then, she would fly, she would glide, and she would shield those who had defied fate to stand beside her. This was her home, for now and forever.

***

[theauthorwhinter]

My Muse Part I

I spin around in your love, in a place of wonder.

To say that the place she stood in was magical was an understatement. At the age of 25, Amelia had yet to see something more breathtaking. She stood in a small forest, just off the side of the highway. If one knew how to look, they could see the small pull off that lead to the bridge. Her tattered rabbit was parked under the bridge where it seemed to have the best chance of being bug-free. She had taken off her shoes as she walked further into the forest, the floor overcome with sodden moss. Amelia walked until she found a small clearing. The trees had opened up and gave way to the cloudy day above her. The only movement was from the water that flowed from a little creek. It was cascading over rocks and through the moss, and then pooling in a small area on the other side of the clearing. The trees sighed softly and the water hushed the sounds of the highway. Civilization seemed as far as possible in that moment.

On the other side of the pond was a small cabin. It looked like the hut from Hocus Pocus, a miniature water wheel turning from the water current. Amelia supposed that another river was closely by. She took slow strides to the cottage and watched in awe as the place lit up. There were candles on the window sills, and a small garden stood to the side of the house. As she walked up to the property, a person stood from the Garden.  

“Oh hello” The person greeted; “I’m Alex” they held out their hand with a pearl white smile. Alex had been living in the cottage for 5 years. Never once had they discovered someone walking along the river moss like Amelia had been.

“I’m Amelia” she offered with a shy smile. Alex took one look at the girl in the moss. She was wearing faded overalls over a white shirt, had her hair in a ponytail, and there was no sign of her shoes. Alex gave a gentle chuckle.

“Did you walk here love?”  Amelia shook her head. Alex pulled the herb that they had come out for and then walked out of the garden. They too, were barefoot. “Let’s go inside,” Alex offered.

 I want to wander, with you, my muse.

Amelia walked inside to see the cottage in its entirety. There weren’t any doors, and there was a small loft area leading to a bed somewhere. It was quaint. Amelia saw that the corners were filled with counters, and the walls were filled with bookshelves. The books themselves were tattered and worn, no doubt from weathering and from age. There were cogs, gears, and other mechanical pieces over the counters. The candles were placed strategically, to get maximum light, and a glass jar of water was perched next to each one. Just in case. Some glass jars were filled with sand, rocks, leaves, or even herbs from the garden. Some were filled with liquids that didn’t look edible. There was a vintage black and gold oven against one wall. It had a window right above it, presumably to help air out the smoke from the wood burning in the bottom selection. The kitchen table was a small circle, and several stools surrounded it, each heavily worn. On the table was a simple china tea set. The cups were on top of saucers. The spoons were positioned properly. The napkins were under the cups, to save the pattern of the china. The teapot itself was shaped in the form of a squash, vines and leaves twisting up to the tip. The handle itself was a dark green vine and the spout was copper. It sat in the middle of the table with a small tray filled with herbs.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Amelia asked as she took in the sight of the tea and biscuits.

“No,” Alex replied before sitting down. Amelia found herself entranced as she made her tea with the herbs and placed it in the cup. Then they began talking, and she found herself spellbound.

Alex was an avid witch, but in the way of lighting candles, collecting herbs, use crystals, and reading Tarot cards. Not in an ‘I will curse you for all eternity, eat your children’ kind of way. They just simply practiced their craft. The house belonged to their great grandmother who had lived in the Appalachian Mountains before moving to the Midwest. Mountain cottages were in their blood. Alex had convinced Amelia to pull her car to the garage a few miles out before offering her the secondary bed that resided on the loft. Alex had a small basement where the climate was mostly moderate. Alex slept down there.

Amelia decided to stay, and was intrigued to know exactly what it meant to be a Witch. She was a songwriter, and had been stuck in one place for far too long. When the open road called, she answered and packed her stuff up. Amelia had been travelling with a bag of clothes, a bag of books and paper, and her guitar. She didn’t need much else. Amelia had moved up with a promise to help out in any way she could. She found that the loft was much sweeter than she had originally imagined. It was open so that she could always hear and see what was going on beneath her, but offered enough privacy that she didn’t need to worry about anyone peeking in on her. Despite the strangeness… Amelia trusted Alex and felt safe. That night she helped Alex make dinner whilst learning about the witch. The witch asked equal questions of curiosity and they agreed on the forms of Amelia’s rent.

[effable-ineffability]

this touched on all the prompts (minus the nsfw one), but tbqh i’ve already got a more proper wing!fic in the works, and i have a little something else that i wrote days ago (haven’t posted yet because i’m tryna find the right words for parts of it; revising, am i right) that is v similiar to tervaneula’s prompt.  plus prompt-related smut, of course (bastille rping?  yes plz).  so uh, hey, guess that means there’s more on the horizon, right?

anyway, without further ado:

home

It started with a jacket.

Aziraphale had found it just a few minutes after Crowley had left to return to his apartment one evening; it had been tossed apparently carelessly over the back of his desk chair.  Crowley had never forgotten any of his belongings before.  Aziraphale wondered if it had been left intentionally, then further wondered why Crowley would have done that.  He hung it up on the coat rack for Crowley to retrieve in the morning.  It never left, except for the occasional excursion.

Then it was an extra pair of sunglasses.  Crowley had broken his one afternoon while trying to reach something from a top shelf in the shop.  The glasses had slipped off his nose and clattered to the ground; when he climbed down from the step-stool to pick them up, they instead ended up under his shoe.  Grumbling and cursing, he stomped out to the Bentley to grab two pairs from his stash.  He shoved one on his face, and thrust the other under Aziraphale’s nose as the angel sat at his desk.  “Keep ‘em here somewhere,” Crowley demanded, stomping back over to the step-stool.  “Just in case.”  Aziraphale arranged them in the corner of his desk, where they stayed.

Then a plant.  “You need some green around here, angel.”  Then another, and another.  “Don’t be too nice to them, or else they’ll get lazy.”  Then a painting.  “Nah, looks better on your wall, anyway.”  Then a small statuette.  Another painting.  A pair of boots.  Another jacket.

“Crowley, my dear,” Aziraphale began one evening, as they sat with glasses of wine in the small living space above the bookshop.  Crowley was sprawled over the loveseat, one leg hanging over the back.  Aziraphale was seated comfortably in his armchair.  They had been talking about the American Revolution until the topic hit a lull.  “I’ve been thinking,” Aziraphale continued slowly, swirling the wine in his glass and watching that instead of the insouciant demon.  “You spend so much of your time here.”

Crowley glanced over at him.  “Yeah?” he prompted when Aziraphale hesitated.

“Well,” the angel said primly, straightening his shoulders a little.  “With Armageddon averted, and our respective Head Offices leaving us more-or-less alone, and - of course - our new, ehm, relationship[1],” his ears went slightly pink, but he soldiered on, “I thought that maybe, if you’d like, you could… you could move in.”  He raised his glass to his lips, sending a furtive glance towards the loveseat.

[1] - To be exact, “new” meant about five months.  It had taken a month after Not-Quite-Armageddon before something clicked and they came together properly.  A story for another time, though.

[ read on ao3 ] or continue below

“Move in?” Crowley repeated, unhooking his leg from the back of the couch and sitting up.  “Here?”  He looked around the comfortable living area.  “With… with you?”  He turned his yellow-gold eyes to Aziraphale.  Both of them were painted with hesitation of a different kind.  Does he want to?  Does he want me to?  Nevermind the daily kisses and “I love you”s and gestures and, on occasion, sex; this was an entirely different kind of step to take.

“You already have some of your things here,” Aziraphale explained, setting his empty glass down on the table between them.  “And you have been spending more time here than in your own apartment.  I just thought, for simplicity’s sake, you see.”[2]

[2] - Old habits die hard, after all.  There really was no need for excuses like this, but Aziraphale had always been a little resistant to change.

Crowley’s eyes hadn’t left the angel.  “Move in with you,” he repeated, sounding a little stunned.[3]  “You’d… you’d actually want that?  Me?  Here?  All the time?”

[3] - This is when Aziraphale realized that Crowley leaving his things around had not, in fact, been intentional.

Aziraphale bobbed his head a few times, and a nervous little smile came over his features.  “Would you?” he asked in turn.  “Want to be here, that is.  With me.  All the time.”

Crowley’s wine glass rattled as it landed on the table.  All at once, he was scrambling off of the loveseat and over to Aziraphale, climbing into his lap and kissing him firmly.  “Oh, angel, I’d love nothing more,” he murmured, holding Aziraphale’s face in both hands, as the angel’s arms wrapped around him.  He went back for another kiss; their smiles got in the way.

The next day, they piled into the Bentley and returned to Crowley’s apartment, where they gathered up the rest of his plants, a few more decor items, and a handful of other things; they packed the car, and returned to the bookshop.[4]  The rest of the day passed in a haze of lighthearted busywork as they rearranged Aziraphale’s living space to accommodate for them both.  There was a minor disagreement over the bedroom - “bedroom, angel, we’re putting a bed in here”; “but my dear, you sleep on the couch anyway”; “we’ll move the bookshelves to the living room”; “there’s so many, they’ll never fit” - that was only settled with a few small miracles to get all of Aziraphale’s books to fit in just the two shelves in the living room.[5]  They bantered teasingly as they figured out where to hang up paintings, where to display figurines and statuettes.

[4] - Crowley wouldn’t break the lease for the apartment.  “Never know,” he told Aziraphale with a shrug.  It would indeed serve its purpose, in time.

[5] - The resolution was also helped along by Crowley pointing out that, even if Aziraphale didn’t plan on sleeping, he could read in bed while Crowley did.  Aziraphale agreed somewhat nonchalantly.  Though they weren’t to know it, they had both conjured up the exact same image:  Crowley, deep in sleep, arms and legs wrapped around Aziraphale as he tried to read, more than a little distracted by the auburn hair on his cheek and quiet snoring against his neck.

Crowley obstinately refused to allow Aziraphale to help him arrange his plants around the kitchen windows, so the angel stood in the doorway and watched as the demon, muttering to himself the whole time, carefully placed each pot and planter on the window sills and shelves.  By the time he finished, the kitchen had begun to resemble a garden nook more than a kitchen.  Aziraphale was unsurprised to find that he rather liked it.

By the time the sun had set, the small apartment, already full of one lifetime’s worth of things, was comfortably crammed with the collected treasures of two.

Aziraphale sat on the couch with Crowley’s head in his lap, combing through his hair.  They had settled here about twenty minutes ago, after having hung the last of the paintings.  “Well,” Aziraphale said with an air of finality, breaking the contented silence between them.  “I suppose I could say ‘welcome home’, my dear.”

Crowley laughed a little, turning on his side to nuzzle the angel’s stomach and wrapping his arms around his waist to hug him.  “Keeping my stuff here is just a formality, angel,” he said, looking up to meet the fond gaze falling down upon him.  “Home’s never been a place for me.  It’s always been you.”

=  =  =  =

Their first proper day cohabiting was not unlike every other day before, except for waking up.  Crowley awoke to quiet humming and gentle fingers in his hair.  Aziraphale was reading, Crowley's head on his chest, four legs tangled together.  When the angel realized Crowley was awake, he smiled down at him and kissed his temple.  "Good morning, my love," he murmured.

Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale's night shirt to hide just how terrible pleased he was.  Aziraphale saw it anyway.

Throughout the morning, Crowley hovered.  He let Aziraphale go about his routine - tea, breakfast, reading - while he watched.  Learned.  Aziraphale didn't comment on it, but might have known what was going on.  Around half-past-nine, they went down to open the bookshop, and everything went back to the Normal that they had defined for themselves in the past few months.  Crowley spent a few hours as a snake, sunbathing and dozing on a shelf, and only scaring two customers.  He stepped out in the early afternoon, returning with Thai takeout for lunch.  Aziraphale closed the shop at six, and they went to dinner at a nice little Italian place on the water.  They drank entirely too much wine, returned home just after eight, and collapsed onto the couch laughing over a rather stupid joke Crowley had made.  By midnight, they were in bed.

It was much the same the next day, and the day after.  By day four, Crowley had learned the patterns well enough.  He slipped out of the bedroom while Aziraphale got dressed, and had tea and croissants waiting for him when he entered the kitchen.  Aziraphale thanked him with a kiss that was perhaps a little more effusive than strictly necessary.

All in all, Crowley was the one to adapt.  His own routines - primarily gardening and sleeping - slotted in nicely around Aziraphale's; the angel barely had to change anything about his lifestyle to accommodate his partner.

It would take two weeks before Aziraphale had a chance to show Crowley that he was willing to adjust as well.

It happened at night.

Crowley was asleep, sprawled on his stomach, one arm over Aziraphale's chest, the other wrapped underneath a pillow where his head rested, and a bit of drool was soaking into it from his parted lips.  Aziraphale was engrossed in his book when Crowley whimpered.

He glanced over at him.  Crowley's brows had furrowed, and his lips were moving as if he was trying to say something, but no words came out.  He was still very much asleep, but Aziraphale could see tension forming all over his body.

Then, with a rustling and a sudden whoosh, Crowley's wings sprang from his shoulder blades.  Aziraphale tumbled from the bed with a surprised cry.

He quickly righted himself, preparing to climb back in bed and awake the demon, but something stopped him.  Crowley stopped him.  Because Crowley was staring right at him.

Well.  Not exactly.  His eyes were open, and he was sitting up, and his head was turned towards Aziraphale, but the angel quickly realized that Crowley was still asleep; his eyes were staring straight past him.  “Crow---” Aziraphale began.

But then he noticed that something was changing.  Crowley’s skin was starting to pull apart, revealing jet black scales.  The gold in his eyes was overtaking his scleras.  His wings were stretching out to their fullest extent behind him.  And something more subtle, like a small flame at his core coming alive, spreading, consuming, growing.  His human form was fading; dozens of eyes long-closed were opening, another set of wings joined the first, the indistinct fire was turning into a blaze, making him glow.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale finally managed through his shock.  He scrambled to his feet and got back on the bed.  “Crowley, it’s me---”

“Get back.”  The voice was not his, either, but something bigger, deeper, more.  Wings flared as though in warning, feathers ruffling furiously.  A wave of ethereal flame shot from him, missing Aziraphale by millimeters.

“Crowley, my dear, you’re dreaming,” he called.  “It’s me, it’s Aziraphale!”

There was a tremor through the air around them, and then the same changes happened again, but rapidly and in reverse.  All four wings shrunk out of view.  Extra eyes closed.  Gold retreated to reveal white.  Freckled skin came back together over scales.  “Aziraphale.”  And the voice was familiar once again.  Crowley blinked once, twice, saw the angel’s frightened expression, and turned away, covering his face with one hand while groping blindly with his other towards Aziraphale; Aziraphale took his hand and held it tightly in both of his.  “Sorry,” Crowley said, voice muffled.  “Fuck, I’m sorry, I--- nightmare, it was a nightmare, I just, sometimes it happens, and I can’t---”  He took another shaky breath, and though Aziraphale couldn’t see his face, he did see the slumping of shoulders, the droop of his head, and a renewed tension in his entire being.

Aziraphale moved closer, reaching up to place a hand on the back of Crowley’s neck.  Crowley jumped, startled, and turned to look at the angel, lowering his hand so just his eyes were visible.  They were heavy with tears yet to fall, and worried.  Worried that he had scared the angel, worried that something had broken, worried that he had crossed some kind of line.

But Aziraphale’s expression had smoothed into something kinder, and his hand was warm against Crowley’s sweat-cooled skin.  His other hand squeezed Crowley’s gently, and he leaned closer.  "It's okay," Aziraphale assured him in a tone of voice that would have soothed the Big Bang, "it's all right.”

“But I--- I could--- angel, I could hurt you, what if---” Crowley tried, his hand falling away from his face.  “If-if I don’t wake up, if you can’t wake me--- oh, what if---”  The thought terrified him more than anything else.  Let Heaven and Hell come for them, let the Angels and Demons track them down to make them pay with their lives, and Crowley would stand between them and Aziraphale until he couldn’t anymore, and would keep going anyway.  But the thought that he might, that he had the capacity, that he could - even without meaning to - cause Aziraphale, his angel, his world, harm or even injury was enough to stifle his words as though his throat had clamped shut.  A great shuddering breath, a sob, and tears spilled over, running down his cheeks.

“Shh,” Aziraphale whispered.  His palm was flat against the back of Crowley’s neck now, and he brought him closer until their foreheads met in the space between.  “Crowley, my love, it’s all right.  I’m here.  And I always will be.”

“Promise?” Crowley managed through the storm of anxiety blustering in his mind.  “Angel, please, promise me, promise me I’ll never lose you.  I can’t, I can’t lose you.  Please.”

“I promise,” Aziraphale said without hesitation.  “Crowley, I promise.  I will be here, at your side, until the end of Time.  And beyond.  If you’ll have me.”

Crowley surged forward, wrapping himself around Aziraphale, and they fell back against the pillows.  Crowley took a few steadying breaths in Aziraphale’s neck, and the combination of the angel’s familiar warmth and scent was enough to finally make him believe that he was safe.  “Of course I’ll have you,” he murmured.  “Dunno what else I could ever want, long as I have you.”

Aziraphale ran his hand up and down Crowley’s back as the demon calmed down, as his breathing began to fall back into normal patterns, as his heart stopped trying to beat a hole through his chest.  “I love you,” he said.  A statement.  A reminder.  A promise.

“Love you, too,” Crowley answered with a soft kiss against Aziraphale’s jaw.  “More than anything.”

Aziraphale hummed contentedly and closed his eyes.  Not to sleep, but to just enjoy this:  having Crowley on top of him, needing him, but most importantly being able to relieve some of the pain that was always so close under the surface.  He continued rubbing Crowley’s back for what might have been an hour.  He expected the demon to fall back asleep, but he didn’t.  He stayed awake, drawing little patterns with his finger on Aziraphale’s shoulder and planting the occasional kiss on whatever skin was closest.

“Would you like to get some more sleep?” Aziraphale asked eventually.

“Mmn,” Crowley hummed noncommittally.

“How about this,” Aziraphale offered instead.  “Why don’t you lay down, on your stomach like before, and let your wings out.  You ruffled them something awful during all that fuss, so let me smooth them out for you.  Maybe that will help relax you back to sleep, hm?”

It took some time before Crowley answered.  “My wings?” he repeated.

“Yes, my dear, your wings.  They’re so lovely, I’d love the chance to see them properly again.”

With a deep breath, Crowley lifted himself.  But he didn’t immediately leave Aziraphale.  Instead, he looked down into the angel’s face for a moment.  Then he apparently reached some kind of conclusion[6], so he leaned down to kiss him, before finally rolling off and moving back over to his side of the bed.  He clutched his pillow with both arms, laid out on his stomach again, and slowly let his wings unfurl.

[6] - The conclusion, for inquiring minds, was this:  “If I could see this face every day for the rest of Time - and beyond - it still wouldn’t be long enough.”

Aziraphale sat up and moved to sit at Crowley’s hip.  Indeed, the black feathers were untidy, sticking in different directions, a few bent, a few twisted.  So he set about fixing them, one at a time, carefully, gently, patiently.  Crowley gave a satisfied sigh, and closed his eyes.

“If I may ask,” Aziraphale said after a few minutes of silence; he knew Crowley hadn’t yet fallen asleep, “how often do you get nightmares?”

Crowley shifted a little.  “Once a month,” he guessed.  “Sometimes less.  Not often.  Don’t like ‘em,” he continued.  Aziraphale saw his eyes open again, but they were staring across the room.  “When I’m by myself, I’ve woken up on the ceiling, or in the living room.  Disorienting, being someplace unexpected, human vessel starting to fall apart.  Takes a minute or two to pull it back together.”  He paused, but Aziraphale just went on smoothing feathers.  “Glad you were here,” Crowley added.  His cheeks darkened.  “Wish you didn’t have to see me like that, but.  Glad you woke me up.”

Aziraphale smiled to himself.  “Well.  One of the benefits of living together, I think,” he pointed out.  “I’ll be ready next time, my dear.  Next time, you won’t have to face the nightmare alone.”

“You’ll be here,” Crowley said, a question without the question mark.  His eyes flicked back over his shoulder, and met Aziraphale’s sky blue over his wing.

“I’ll be here,” Aziraphale confirmed with a reassuring smile.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 119:  Unexplained Curiosity

When he left, he'd assumed that his trip to Camelot would take a few days. He hadn't expected he'd be back that very night. If he'd known that he wouldn't have told Belle he was going away, merely left her in the night without her ever having to know. He could announce his arrival in the morning but then…living in a vast castle without having someone know you were there did have its advantages. He'd trusted her on her own once with Robin Hood and regretted that decision even if he felt it had turned out the way it was meant to. It dawned on him as he returned that there were going to be more times like this throughout his life, times that he was going to have to leave and be busy while she was left alone in the castle and he was going to have to trust her. But trust was a lot easier with knowledge. So far, his knowledge told him that she was a risk who could betray him. He wondered if that was how it was always to be.

For that reason alone, when he concluded his business in Camelot, he returned to his tower and kept his arrival a secret. When he cast his eyes to the cauldron, he could see that his maid had done nothing out of the ordinary that night. The kitchen was clean of whatever dinner she'd made for them and eaten by herself, and she was laying in her cot in the dungeons. A sad picture it was too. She'd been here long enough, he figured she might be able to work a bit better with a nice bed…but he'd already showed her mercy where Robin was concerned and given her enough clothes that she was starting to garner quite the collection. And worst of all, she was smart enough to know all that. The last thing he needed to do was show her more favor. Maybe, one day, she would earn a bedroom, but not today.

He spent his next day in his workshop. He checked on Belle periodically throughout the day, curious as to what she would do with a day on her own. In between watching her, he worked on the Gauntlet. He was able to add his potion to it, the one that would recall it to him should he be separated from it. He was able to use it on the Gauntlet, to touch it, but he found he was unable to put it on his hand. He knew that was necessary for the magic to work, as Guinevere had demonstrated, but when he slid it on he found that it burned so much he had to remove it. Not even his magic could cool the hurt he felt with it on. He should have known. Merlin was a crafty one. He hadn't known him, but he had known Nimue. Anything he'd placed a spell on to prevent her from using would work on him as well.

But he wasn't about to give up the ability to use it over a glitch. He knew better than to give up. All spells and curses could be broken in time, he just needed the time required to break it. And perhaps to do a little experimentation on it. He was persistent. Almost as persistent as his maid.

When he got frustrated, he found that he was delighted to watch her, though he admitted to feeling some disappointment as well. He'd hoped to catch her doing something or other he might be able to lord over her; something that might curb some of her attitude. But, unfortunately, he found she was diligent in her work. She stuck to her schedule, even in his absence. In the morning, she rose and worked on one room, like normal. She took tea by the fire, alone, but otherwise normally. Though he noted that she seemed rather bored without his company. Afterward, she cleaned another room, took her dinner in his chair by the fire, all typical behavior. Then went to bed like normal and woke up again as she always did. She could be distracted, looking over at his objects when she should have been concentrating on what she was reading, but she didn't touch. Mostly…

The worst he saw was in his own tower. She'd nearly caught him one afternoon. After making a trip to her library and taking a book she began searching for something. He watched as she climbed stairs to a tower and it wasn't until he heard the noise behind him that he realized she was nearly behind him. He grabbed the Gauntlet and cast the spell to turn himself invisible as she arrived and looked around. He was nearly giddy with excitement, holding still and watching what she might do. But in the end, all she'd done was take a quill and some ink. For a moment he dared to think she'd do something dramatic like try to write a letter to her family. But then he observed the book in her hand was on learning a new language. She'd probably just wanted some practice.

She did pause for a moment. Her eyes drifted as they did all day long to some artifact or other he happened to have out on the same desk as the paper she stole. He held his breath as he watched her fingers stretch out over the object, then lower as if to touch it…

But she didn't do it.

In the end, she snatched her hand back and held it close to her chest. She sighed as she shook her head and moved away. She took the quill and ink she'd found and moved away in a hurry. He dropped the spell and promptly hurried off to his cauldron to locate her, leaving the Gauntlet forgotten on a table. She was going down the staircase. She'd set the ink and quill aside and was going into the Great Room. The fire flared as she entered, and he watched as she went to the cabinet on the opposite side.

She was looking for something, rummaging about on the bookshelves, going through book after book, sliding them this way. He knew she was looking for something. But what. She had her book. She had quill and ink, what more…

Paper.

Going through the list in his head, it was obvious. She had what she needed to learn, she had what she needed to write, but nothing to write on. He wrote in his books all the time, but she guarded that library of hers with a keen eye. She'd probably die before she wrote in one of those books. Then again, there were other things that could kill the poor girl…like snooping about in places she didn't belong.

He watched as she turned away from the shelves and her eyes roamed over the cabinet. Beowulf's sword was stored there. He'd caught her looking at it more than a few times over these last few days. Knowing her, she was dying for an excuse…and it seemed she was finally going to take it.

She grabbed a step stool that he'd seen her use to clean, set it before the cabinet, and pulled the doors open. He wasn't going to let her go on like this much longer and he smiled at the thought of interrupting her at just the right time. It was one thing to know something about her and bring it up in conversation, it would be another thing entirely to catch her in the act…like the moment she stopped searching for her paper and hauled the sword into her hands to examine it closer.

"Don't cut yourself, dearie!" he exclaimed.

He beamed as she gasped and juggled the sword, trying to gain her composer. That had been a better entrance than he thought it would.

"I'm so, so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I thought-"

"You thought I would be away for a few more days and it would be fine to play with my…toys!" he finished for her, plucking the sword out of her grasp.

"Well, you did say that I-"

"Oh! I lied!" he declared. "I wanted to see how the mouse would play when the cat was away. And the mouse has done very little cleaning…" he stated, dragging his finger across the table. Not a spec of dust clung to his flesh. But it was no matter. She had a tendency to get riled up when he chastised the work she did. After days of watching her silently sulk around the castle and being on his own watching her, he felt the urge to be entertained. Even if the conversation was simple, he sat on the edge of his seat just to see what she'd have to say.

"It's just that you've so many things here! From all over the world…I was curious!" she exclaimed without even trying to deny his lies as he set the sword upon the table. "And…you never talk about them!"

"Well…you're the help!" he reminded himself as a small hand of guilt seized over his heart. They were his things, and she was nothing but the maid, it wasn't his job to entertain her or explain what he brought into the castle. But she, obviously, didn't feel the same way. He watched as her eyes hardened and focused on him in a way that made him feel like he'd swallowed his own tongue. She lunged at him, unexpectedly strode over to him until her face was practically in his own.

"And you're rude!" she spat in his direction.

He never liked to back down from an argument, but few were as audacious as she was to come right up to him and make their arguments. He had to fight the instinct to take a step back away from her and cower.

"Well, I can be much worse," he threatened with a sneer. He wasn't about to back down, not to his maid, not to this small slip of a woman. She was his property, she was just a living breathing artifact he'd taken away from one of his deals. He'd given her privileges while she was here, but he could take them

"But you're not," she rebelled, her eyes staring right into his own before she finally began to move again. "Look…" she hopped up onto their table and maintained her gaze, but he was grateful for the distance between them. She had a smell to her, a very distinct smell that lingered under soap and cleansers and food. The scent of lemon was distracting when she was so close. "You have seen the world, something that I have always wanted to do, yet you share nothing!"

"Mouthy, mouthy!" he observed. "And foolishly brave." Her so-called "argument" was moot. She'd brought up no new points, no different perspectives, and that meant his opinion was the same. She was his property. He didn't have to share anything with her. The fact that he was awarding her this conversation while she was attempting to pry was merely a courtesy. In truth, he only conversed with her because he needed something to do. Now, as she stared at him with disbelieving eyes, he was starting to believe he'd made a mistake.

"You know, if you were going to kill me…you would have done it long ago."

Oh, and she didn't know how true her words were and how painful as well. For as long as he could remember, he had done what he wanted when he wanted, but once the Seer passed her powers on to him it meant that there were few who were safe from his grasp: Regina, Snow White, even Cora in a strange way. And now, unfortunately for him, Belle was one of those individuals. He couldn't kill her. And all because the damn Seer wouldn't reveal her importance in his future! He hadn't wanted her to know that though…what had he done wrong that she no longer feared him? Was it because he'd let Robin live? If it was, she was wrong. He just couldn't explain it to her. Was it because he'd given her clothing? That wasn't for her! It was so he didn't need to be distracted by worrying about her clothes falling apart and obviously that had failed him because she was wearing the blue dress now, which was supposed to be safe, but the way she'd arranged her corset and tightened her stays her breasts were practically spilling out of it! Perhaps it was because he hadn't locked her room at night. Maybe they needed to consider going back to that, just to get the upper hand back.

"Now, tell me what you've seen!" she urged with bright, happy eyes. "How was your trip to Camelot?!"

A smart man in his position would have given her a false answer, sent her back to her dungeon, locked her inside, and gone back to work. But after nearly two days alone in the tower he wasn't too keen on solitude…also something he couldn't explain to her. Not to mention, those "bright, happy eyes" mixed with that particular dress...he found it difficult not to answer her.

"Good for me…not so good for Camelot."

And damn him…when she smiled like that it didn't make him want to stop the way it should. Perhaps if he busied her, gave her some work to do, she wouldn't be such a tempting distraction and they could both get something done…

Into his hands, he summoned the Gauntlet from his tower. "A souvenir!" he explained passing it off to her. "Clean it for me, will you?!"

It was unlikely a good cleaning would remove Merlin's spells, but anything was worth a try where that man was concerned. Hell, if she came back and he found it did work, he'd take a bucket of whatever she'd used and scrub his tower raw himself just to gain access.

"Ah…well…what is it?" Belle asked, turning it this way and that in her own hands.

"The Magic Gauntlet! With a very specific power…it can locate anyone's greatest weakness!" he answered without pausing to ask himself why she was answering her.

"Mmm…how ominous…" she muttered. "Wait, but…why do you need this?" she exclaimed suddenly. "With all your power, you could destroy any foe!"

Very interesting. So she admitted that he had the power to destroy others, but she also had come to the conclusion that he wouldn't do it to her. The woman was far too intelligent for her own good.

"Ah, if you must know, it's about manipulation," he answered. "And for that…you must find one's weakness, and for almost everyone that weakness is the thing they love most. This will simply point me in the right direction!"

Or at least it would if he could put the damn thing on without Merlin's magic reacting poorly to his own. But he wondered…would Belle try it on? Could she work it? For a moment, he could see himself back up in his tower watching her clean it just to see if she would try until he heard his conversation with Nimue clear and crisp in his mind…

"I've more important things to do."

"Ah yes…finding your son and eyeing that maid of yours in the cauldron."

Was that her perception of him? Finding his son was his first priority, but watching Belle hardly was. Perhaps it was time to rid himself of that little habit. When she'd been under her father's roof or Robin had been here that was one thing, spending the last two days watching her when he could have been doing other things…maybe he needed to stop watching. Maybe he needed to stop worrying over her, stop using her for entertainment or sport. Maybe he needed to stop seeing her as anything other than a maid.

"But I don't understand-"

"Which isn't my problem!" he snapped angrily, though he wasn't sure what she'd done in the last few seconds to warrant a response like that from him. "I've answered your questions, you've done very little cleaning! Between the two of us, you've been downright rude and lazy!"

He watched as her eyes widened and became steely and cold all over again. He'd touched a nerve. More than that. He had the feeling that this time around he might have gone too far with her and didn't understand why he cared.

"Off! Off you go! I want that spotless before dinner! Or next time the cat leaves, the mouse will find herself very unhappy with the new rules."

[askamydaily]

Does it Spark Joy?

There are many ways to get rid of things. But ... where to stash Marie Kondo?

Amy Dickinson

Jan 6, 2019

(Excerpted from my memoir “Strangers Tend to Tell Me Things”)

There is a book that promises a pathway for people to tunnel their way out when they are buried beneath their stuff. It is called the life‐changing magic of tidying up, by Japanese tidying expert Marie Kondo (the title of the book, which is all in lowercase, suggests that upper-case letters themselves are quite untidy). 

Flummoxed and feeling overwhelmed by the tide of acquired possessions in which I was drowning, I purchased the book, like millions of other people, and dove into its tidying secrets. The author describes her lonely childhood, when she, at the age of five, first started her campaign to make the world tidier. 

As I read this biographical account of her life and the evolution of her extreme tidying technique, it occurred to me that what Marie Kondo was really describing was her own lifelong struggle with obsessive-compulsive disorder. 

She describes skipping recess at school, where, instead of playing outside with her peers, she spent her time rearranging the books in her classroom. Garbage bags were her best and constant companions as she tamped down her anxiety by filling them in her quest for tidy perfection. As soon she had perfected her own space (“perfection” is an important concept for her), she moved on to her friends’ rooms and the storage lockers at school. Marie Kondo strikes me as a very strange person. I do not want to be like her. I also do not want to be like the ruthless and tidy monsters who follow her technique and roll their socks and stack their clothes sideways in drawers and who throw so much away. 

One useful takeaway for me from this book was the question the author suggests everyone ask themselves when looking to release the grip of 

possessions: “Does it spark joy?” Going through my mother’s things, I was able to apply this question, but I was surprised at how often an item sparked not joy but extreme sadness. Finding my mother’s briefcase, placed in a drawer beneath her typewriter, made me light-headed with grief. Both items were tangible reminders of how hard my mother had worked and how important working was to her. 

Jane typed her way into college and a career as a professor. During my visits over the years, whenever I saw her leather briefcase full of student papers, I felt tremendous pride in what she had done. I decided 

to keep both things, but I also promised myself that I would somehow box and bag my sadness, and that each day I would take at least one box or bag for donation (unlike Marie Kondo, who seems to pitch a lot away, I’m not big on sending things to the land ll). 

My old friend Kirk traveled from Maine to help me sell some of my mother’s collection of bureaus, chairs, plant stands, bone-china cups and saucers, pails, baskets, picture frames, and assorted tinware. Kirk and Jane were close friends; the three of us shared a taste and sensibility about things, and we also loved and cherished stuff. He and I often laughed over Jane’s aphorism, “my stuff never lets me down.” (People, she implied, often did.) Kirk helped me to sort, tag, and price items for a yard sale. We had some business at our sale during the day and then left unsold furniture by the side of the road. 

In Freeville, you can set something by the side of the road in the morning, and it will be gone by the afternoon. 

I had furnished much of my Main Street house with (almost) perfectly good used furniture I’d found roadside. 

I liked the idea that my things were landing in others’ homes. But there was one category of my and my mother’s possessions that stumped me: spindly chairs that were broken and couldn’t be repaired and other pieces of furniture that I simply didn’t like but couldn’t seem to part with. This included a small pine chest with a broken bottom drawer that my former husband and I bought at an antique store in 1985. 

I had taken this pine chest from house to house as I had moved to London and back, and then around the country with my many moves. The chest had started to develop a burdensome emotional stink. I felt it was too old and fine to give away, leave by the side of the road, or take to the dump. Emily wasn’t interested in having it. I didn’t want to spend money repairing it, and I didn’t want to see it anymore. I wanted to lose it, along with all of my painful associations of early married life with my ex-husband, which the chest seemed to unleash. It most definitely did not spark joy. 

My confusion over what to do with the pine chest led to a decision that some people might find distasteful but that worked for me. This is how I dealt with the never-ending suck of continuously rearranging the broken deck chairs on my emotional Titanic: 

I decided to burn some shit in the yard. 

I live in a place where many people heat their homes with wood, so out- door burning is an acceptable practice. I looked up the local statute and learned that in Freeville, burning is permitted but must be confined to a fire pit. Coincidentally, our daughter Clare had given me a small portable metal fire pit for Christmas. I decided that I would start the New Year with a personal burn. 

New Year’s Day was cold and snowy. Perfect. I wanted my burn to be at a time when my neighbors’ windows would be closed so the smoke didn’t bother anyone. I started the fire with a tiny bit of newspaper (featuring my advice column—I liked that symbolism) and a twig-style plant stand that had started life as a tripod but was now a bipod. 

I watched the plant stand go up in smoke until it was no more. Knowing that it wouldn’t languish in the dump or outside a hoarder’s trailer made me feel good. I moved on to my mother’s collection of broken chairs. One by one, I fed them into the flames and stood in the snow, enjoying both the heat from the flame and the feeling of lightness that accompanied it. Soon enough I started to feel a Marie Kondo–like need to rid myself of other things. 

Throughout the winter, I conducted burns—of broken bookshelves and two-legged stools, sprung baskets, the stripped frames of once-wicker tables, and a heavy twig-style porch chair that I had given to my mother but was so uncomfortable to sit on it actually inspired contempt. 

Yes—I burned the small pine chest. I burned extra copies of the programs from my mother’s funeral, along with the cardboard box they came in. I burned duplicate photographs of arty still lifes that I had taken in college and copies of Farm Life magazine from the 1950s. 

When I was done, I spread the ashes on the winter-dormant bed of my mother’s back garden. I was free. I was tempted to also burn Marie Kondo’s book, but even I cannot burn a book. Instead, I donated it to the library’s book sale. I imagine the book changing hands and continuing to inspire or disgust people until it, too, lands in a garbage bag and is finally discarded forever by someone for whom it does not spark joy. 

[galactic-womann]

oh my god yes can you write one where y/n moves in next door to timmy in new york. and he’s in awe of her, and after meeting a few times he invites her to one of his parties where she buys a book for timmy instead of a bottle of wine because she’s only 20. and armie is there and he’s like “ohhhhhh so this is the girl?” thanks a million

Hey hey! This took me a while even though I think it’s kind of trash. I’m a bit rusty but I hope I lived up to your fan fiction standards! It’s probably kinda weird lol my mood changed like 12 times while writing this. Thank you for sending in a request anon I LOVE you.

*Excuse any spelling errors*

“Ma’am are you sure you don’t need help with your things?”

“No, thanks! I’m perfectly fine!” I chuckled. The truth of the matter was, I wasn’t fine. My back was ready to do the bend and snap and I had about 14 more boxes to bring up to my new apartment. Moving to the city was scary, being alone and inexperienced in the city is terrifying.

I carried the two large boxes towards the elevator door, by the time I reached it I’d felt like I’ve walked along a whole football field. You can imagine my utter disappointment when I read the white sheet taped to the door that said “Broken. Use stairs.” A red arrow slathered in sharpie pointed down a long narrow hallway to my right.

“What the fuck, man.” I whispered under my breath as I began my fucking pilgrimage to and up the stairs.

I wasn’t far up the total of 12 flights I had to climb before I heard the loud clanging of footsteps speeding down the stairs. The next thing I knew, my boxes were thrown against the wall and I was barely gripping onto the rail. This guy really just pushed me out of his way with only a “sorry” to spit as he continued speeding down the stairs and into my imaginary death note. I only caught a glimpse of this dark mop of hair. Jesus, I thought. I could’ve been carrying fine china in those boxes had I been interested in buying or collecting ever. Thank buddha they were my indestructible hardcover babies.

Pulling up the rest of the boxes was a pain but after I accepted help I was finished within an hour.

Once everything was settled in my studio styled apartment, I flopped onto my bed, which was the only thing I assembled so far, and took a big deep breath and just relaxed.. My first home living alone, just me and stuff.. door locked.. no one to bug me or-

BANG.

I groaned into my pillow. I snapped my neck to where the sound came from and heard another loud BANG. It sounds like someone is punching the wall! It sent a worry through my stomach, but I pushed it away. I’m full of fire today, no one can fuck with me. I stomped out of my place, not even bothering to close the door behind me and pounded on the next door, which inhabited the cause of the ruckus. The door swung open within moments and I readied my rant. But what stood before me drained me of the fire I possessed a second ago.

A guy, tall, the floppy hair I saw shoving me on the stairs..

“WHAT is your problem, man?” I half-shouted. “I’m just trying to move my crap from one place to another, breaking my back in the process, and you shoved me! And now you’re banging on the wall when I’m attempting to relax.. I-“ I stopped once I realized he was just staring at me, dumbfounded. His lips parted a bit to say something then pressed together gently. I crossed my arms, suddenly feeling self conscious. I wasn’t exactly in the nicest clothes, I looked like a slob. Dressed for comfort in my sweats and my hair a mess from throwing myself into bed. He kept his eyes on me for a few more seconds until he finally spoke.

“Are you the new person renting the place next door? Do you want to come in?” He opened the door wider.

Lord help me, his voice sounded the way candy tasted. So.. so.. sweet.. intoxicating. I wanted him to talk more. Hell, he could be my ringtone.

I didn’t realize until then how attractive he actually is. His hair was dark and wavy, his eyes were green and endless. His eyebrows almost touched, in a good way. He had this messy, sleepy boy look to him and it looked so good.

“No thanks.” I replied out of pure anxiety. I mentally slapped myself for refusing such an invitation from such a cute guy. I stared down at my bare feet for the longest.

“I’m really sorry for bumping into you, and being loud just now, there hasn’t been anyone living next door for the longest.” He pushed the door even wider, “since you just moved in.. and i haven’t exactly given you a warm welcome.. want something to eat? I just picked up some pizza.” He said giving a light smile.

I hesitated a bit, he’s trying to apologize. I could use some friends here too. “Yes, sure.” I said almost shyly. He stepped aside to make way for me and I stepped into his apartment. I really hope I didn’t walk into a murder trap.

“So what’s your name?” I asked before fully walking in.

“Timothee.” He said back.

“Nice name.” I said with genuine fascination. “It’s classy. My name is y/n.” Then I continued to venture into his apartment.

It was a bit larger than mine, it also has a studio style to it, similar to mine. Except, his was cluttered with packets and papers. There was a pile on his bed, some on his counter and a few tossed onto the floor. He noticed my eyes wandering to the mess and he immediately stepped forward.

“I-I-I’m sorry about the mess, y/n” He said quickly. “My job requires lots of reading.”

“Oh cool, are you a writer?” I asked curiously.

“Nah I’m an actor.” He nervously chuckled. He sat on a kitchen stool and played with his hands. Why is he so nervous?

“Really? So was the banging on the wall part of the script?” I cocked my head to side and laughed.

He laughed and shook his head. A cute laugh, very cute. He opened his mouth into a dorky smile when he laughed. “No no, that was an in the moment thing. I was just really happy.” He said with a wide smile.

“Ooh!” I cheered. “What about, of you don’t mind me asking?” I wanted to be friendly but not so friendly that I’d make things weird. We only just met, and in slightly strange terms. It was worth it, seeing his reaction. His eyes widened and they almost gleamed at the question. But he kept such a cool face, I could tell he wanted to burst from happiness. He waved it off. “Oh no, it’s nothing.”

“It can’t be just nothing if you’re willing to wake up exhausted girls from their beauty sleep.” I teased. I sat on the stool next to him.

“I’m still SO sorry about that.” His face was slightly flushed from my teasing, he really was sorry.

“It’s okay. You’re repaying me with pizza. So you gonna tell me what you’re so happy about?” He smiled again. But this time it wasn’t a goofy toothy smile, he gave a crooked closed smile. I really couldn’t figure out what it meant, but it sure almost made me melt in my chair.

“I’ll tell you after we’ve met a few more times.” He said getting out of his chair. He leaned close to me, with a hand on his heart and said “I like to take things slow.”

I swear to god I nearly started choking in his face.

He walked away and opened a box of pizza. “Shall we eat?” He said, getting some plates.

“It’s what I’m here for.” I said back coolly.

It was a really fun, sleep deprived night.

-

Meeting Timothee started becoming the highlight of my day. He helped me unpack and decorate my apartment. He insisted on me getting these blue fairy lights that light up the whole place. He also insisted I put a pop corn machine next to my bed. He’s a man of many good ideas.

“You sure do have a ton of books.” He told me.

“I really like to read, I collect a bit too. Some of these books are first editions, hard to find.” I said proudly, I love my books.

“I wish I could find time to read a book. A lot of my time is taken up by work, not that I don’t love it.” He said. I couldn’t imagine not reading, we really had to do something about that..

After a week I finally got every bit of my things settled and in place.

I was relaxing on my bed, reading a book and playing soft music from a speaker. I was so happy, I never got to relax this way back home. Next to my bed window, the view was incredible. I was in the heart of the city and everything was just perfect from where I was sitting..

A knocking interrupted my thoughts and I made my way to the door. Peaking through the peep hold I saw it was just Timothee and I opened the door.

“What’s up Timmy.” I greeted him.

“Hey y/n I just wanted to stop by and tell you I’m having a party tonight at my place. It’s sort of a celebration for that happy thing I found out a week ago. Not too big.” He gave me his toothy smile. He sounded kind of nervous.

“Right, you never told me what that happy thing was.” I responded.

“If you come tonight, I promise you’ll find out.” He smiled again. I returned it and nodded, “Then I guess I’ll have to come.” I said.

“Really?” He bounced on his feet excitedly.

“Of course, it’s not like I’d be able to sleep through your partying anyway.” I joked.

“Alright, well I’ll send you then” He said as he walked into his apartment.

“You will.” The door shut, and so did mine. I let out a long sigh. I love New York.

-

It was around 9 when I decided to finally make my way to the party. I wore a semi casual dress since I wasn’t sure if it was a formal type of party. Before I could walk out of my place, i thought to myself: ‘Shouldn’t I bring a gift? That’s what people do right?’ People usually bring bottles of wine or champagne to a party. I however, cannot buy any alcohol and I have none stored in my house… I should get him a book, he’s said he’s never had time. Maybe he could find time if he had the right book? It’s something I suppose.

I walked towards one of the bookshelves that was placed symmetrically across the other. My fingers gently glided along the spines of each book until I found the one I’d been looking for. I believe this was the perfect selection for the new boy-next-door. It was y/f/b, my favorite. I have several copies, including the first edition and this was just a copy I picked up from Barnes & Noble. I suppose I was ready, my stomach started to churn a bit. Timothee is very nice, and cute. I hope he doesn’t think I’m lazy or weird. I let out a sigh, here goes nothing.

I walked out of my apartment and close the door behind me. I can already hear the music from behind Timothee’s door, I’m betting the neighbor on his right throws a fit like I did, soon. I stepped forward and knocked on his door, the door swung open a few moments later.

Timothee appeared with slightly disheveled hair, and a white button up shirt. I put a confident face on and smiled.

“Y/n..” he gulped. “You really came.”

“Yes I did. Im not exactly of legal age to buy any alcohol to celebrate so here.” I handed him the book. He let out a chuckle.

“You really didn’t have to bring a gift, I should bring you a gift, new neighbor. I really appreciate this, if you gave me a book I would definitely read it.” He opened the door and let me in.

There were lots of people piled in his apartment, it made me realize how much bigger his actually is than mine. I gazed around the room and my eyes landed back onto Timothee, who I realized had been looking at me the entire time.

As he was about to speak, a taller, more muscular guy walked up to us. He has very prominent blue eyes, brown hair and sun kissed skin. He smiled brightly at Timothee, revealing his perfect teeth. This guy had to be a model, no doubt about it.

“Timmy, your bathroom smells terrible. I think someone didn’t agree with the tacos you had on the buffet earlier.” Abacrombie model said.

“A buffet? Did I miss it?” I asked suddenly aware I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I really need to start buying more ramen. The model eyed me carefully and turned to Timothee again.

“Who’s this?” He asked.

“This is.. y/n.” He replied, giving the model a look.

“Ooh so you’re y/n?” He smiled again, he turned back to Timothee. “So this is the girl?” He teased him.

“Alrighttttt. Alright.” He waved his hands. “No more.” His face looked red. He talked about me?

“So I’m the girl huh?” I teased Timothee further. He hid his face.

Model grabbed my hand, “My name is Armie. Let’s talk.” He steered me away from Timothee and I laughed.

This night is going to be the best, I can tell.

[jyunshiim]

Guitar strings– songwriter Kun NCT

Pairing: songwriter Kun X Reader

Genre: Fluff

Leather. Books. The smell of a freshly burnt out candle lingering through the thin air of the old bookstore(or library sort of thing) you enjoyed going to. It was quiet and only very few people went there so you didn't feel so enclosed in a small corner of the store. The vintage books tainted a soft beige and dark brown leather covers of the journals (which were on sale!) stood idle against the mahogany bookshelves, the dark wood of the tables protruding from against the sides of the wall. The aroma of the manufactured books was closely under your nose as you buried you head in a book. The store had everything you could possibly wish for; a little coffee/ breakfast bar, a vending machine and a juice dispenser (your personal favourite). It felt like home. Your favourite time to come here was during the evening when the sunsets were beautiful, with pinks, reds and oranges painted across the sky; you can see it clearly from the second floor of the store as you sit on the tall stools and look out of the large glass panes that looked into the streets of Seoul. This was how every day was spent.

Sunday 17th January. You flicked through books and vinyls and sat in your usual corner behind the book shelves. There were usually some beanbags and a little tablet put your books, coffees laptops etc on. A sweet smelling perfume wafted past you and your head turned up from the book you were reading. It was strong but very sweet and pleasant. You didn't think too much of it. Standing up carefully, cautious you'd knock over your extremely sweet coffee (which most likely had 5 sugars!) you go to the book shelves and pull out a book. A hand also reached out for the same book and as you took it from the shelf, the person on the other side smiled after a shocked expression.

“Oh sorry, I didn't mean to tug at it too much!” His sweet smile was as sweet as your coffee.

Who was he? His hair was like a soft chocolate truffle only slightly messy, his skin clear and glowing like a golden wonder, his smile as bright as the sun. He had a very calming aura to him. His hoodie was a soft beige and he wore denim ‘mom’ style jeans and carried a guitar bag with him as well as a wondered over to the leather journals section. You hand him the book; “ you can borrow this book, I've already read it,” you shyly smile. He takes the book gently into his hands. “ I just really like the book a lot”you softly chuckle. You didn't pay at the way he looked at you but it was soft and endearing. “ I haven't read this book yet but since you love it so much, I'll definitely read it!” his eyes close as they smile. He gave you a soft giving you a fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

Weeks went on and you continued to encounter him there. He usually sat on a small table across the room to your bean bang corner and you couldn't help but  admire his casual but beautiful looks. The ambience he brought to the store was fitting. you twiddled you thumbs before you stood up, ordered a compressed juice and took it over to him. After all, first impressions matter. “ hey, sorry to disturb you but I got you this freshly compressed apple juice “ you smiled

He looked up at you and smiled appreciatively. “ Thank you so much!” he collects the juice, “ I think a proper introduction would be fitting now” he sipped

“ I’m Kun,” he stood up and pulled a chair out for you. You were certainly flattered. “Thank you Kun, I’m [y/n]” you smiled again shyly.

“ you have a very cute shy smile, it’s quite charming I must say” his mellifluent voice lingered and settled in your ears echoing. 

“ hey, um we should talk sometime” he quickly rips some paper and scribbles his number down and shyly hands it to you. “ we can hang out any time” he suggests

12:34PM: you decide to text him. He was a compassionate being and seemed very beneficent too.

Nervously you stand outside The Book Corner and waited for him. Your head raced with thoughts, mostly negative; what if he stitches you up? what if he isn’t very nice to you or pranks you? you try to set aside these ideas and take a deep breathe, the cold, crisp, autumn air entering your lungs and relaxing you. You glance quickly at a truffle haired boy his hair bouncing to his bubbly walk. His smile radiated a positive aura and he held his leather journal and his guitar bag in both hands. “hey!” his sweet voice sent soft tingles down your back. You clasp your hands together daintily and smiled back; “hey, i must say you’re a rather dedicated musician” you started a conversation.

“is there anywhere you’d like to go?” he asked

“i wouldn’t mind being outdoors for once”

he stood by you and nodded; “perfect! i have a place we could go but i think we’re in need of some food” before gently holds your hand and pulls you in the direction he wanted you to go. You let out a little help before trying to catch up with him.

You stood outside a white house like building. There were flower baskets hanging outside and a silver post box.

“sorry, i brought you to my house because i forgot something”

“ah okay, i’ll wait here” you point to the pavement

“in this cold? i don’t think so” he pull you in to his house

He grabs a few things and throws them into a large duffel bag and grabs a jacket-or two-

“so, what’s your profession?” he asks as you both walk to the mystery location

“well although my hobbies are reading i much prefer the artistic approach” your mellow comforting voice soothed him and he was interested in you.

“ahh so what do you do or study?” his tall build catches your eye as you lift your head to talk to him.

“i study fine art at Seoul University of expressive arts”

“wow that sounds so cool, i study composition and music at Seoul university too!” he exclaims

“no way! that’s so cool!”

Kun opens a little gate to a garden of willow trees, heathers, Viburnum and some winter flowering cherry grew all over this mystical place. There were a few lamps for the pavement which illuminated the path way. Pinecones and fresh herbal scents gravitated towards and around you. He took you through the trees to a glass bandstand.

“This is where i usually come if i want to perform and people come by sometimes”

“it’s really beautiful!”

You proceed to sit down however Kun stops you and pulls out a blanket from the duffel bag and places it underneath you. what a gentleman. You think to yourself. He continues to bring out snacks and food and a flask containing hot drinks too. “first impressions matter right?” he chuckles

The sun disappears behind the horizon and the temperature drops rapidly. You begin to shiver and you rub your arms attempting to accumulate heat. Kun searches through his duffel bag and pulls out a black fleece in which he hands over to you. “i came prepared,” he smiled. You thank him and put it over your shoulders. The evening went on and Kun played you some of his songs; angelic and soft yet strong and powerful, his voice was what you preferred in music. Eventually as the night came to a close he insisted to take you home. during the cold walk home as the stars shone down and illuminated your skin, his hand gently slipped into your cold palms, his angelic shy smile, flushed cheeks and soft eyes meet yours. “have a good night” his smile so soft and gracious. “and you,” you smile back

kun messaged you late that night. He was the first one to message you and you felt vicious butterflies in your stomach but you giggled to his lovely messages. You wanted to see him, everyday. His company was pleasing. Knowing you both go to the same university what’s comforting because you now have someone with common interests to accompany you.

Your journey to university was lonesome again. The train journey to the heart of the city was quiet; soft music plays through your headphones. Kun sent you some music files the night before in hopes you’d listen to it in which you obviously did. The sun began to appear over the horizon whilst you walked to a close by coffee shop from the train station.

“Glad to see you here,” Kun smiles as he held two coffees in his hands in the biting cold. You were surprised that he waited here for you.

“Kun, you didn’t have to!” you cover you face with your hands shyly

“just take the coffee, get some energy” he held your unoccupied hand. He acted as if you were something more to him. Intimate. Trusted you with his deepest thoughts and feelings at midnight. Journey to university was different now. Kun always met you and waited for you in the cold for you and held hands with you until you both arrived at the campus. Your stomach fluttered violently when his warm features appeared in you memory, vivid. Cliché things began to expand into your mind; friends to lovers? You grew feelings for him every day, everytime his hands caressed your cheeks and when he moved a strand of hair from your face, when his sweet smile outshines all the stars. Was this love? you didn’t like doubting yourself but you were certain these feelings were new.

You sent Kun a message.

It was late in the evening. The willow trees sway to the wind, your fingers frost bitten and cold. You pull your scarf and coat tighter around you as you walk down the cobble path towards the bandstand where he took you. You look up and squint a little to see Kun already there with his guitar again. “you’re speedy” you chuckled softly

“well, this garden is directly behind my house” he smiles again making you melt.

“you brought your guitar?” you question as you walk closer however he pulls you in byyour waist. His hands settle on your waist and your bodies close. Your heart beats out of your chest and you could feel his too. He takes your hand and puts it on his chest; “you feel that? that’s what i feel every day since i met you”

You didn’t know what to say but it wasn’t an issue for Kun at all. He cupped your face, and got closer, lifting your chin up as both your lips began to get close. Your eyes glistened in the sliver lights of the band stand and his lips softly gilded onto yours and that was when he pulled you closer and held you. His kiss was desperate but you gave back the same energy, you were desperate to kiss him too. As he pulled away he looked at you again-

“what did you want to talk about?” he said breathlessly

“I-I love y-“

“I love you too yn”

You both sat down on the steps of the band stand and he presented you the song he wrote about you ever since you met you at The Book Corner.

Graduation day came and you both watched eachother get your diplomas: you got your Bachelor Of Arts and he got his Bachelor Of Music degree. You were both so proud of eachother that after the ceremony, he met you.

“congratulations sweetheart I’m proud of you!” he hugged you

“and i’m proud of you Kun!”

this was the start of a beautiful relationship..

[regulusirius]

coffee and sunsets chapter three

Series Masterlist

plot: When a stranger comes into Y/N’s newly acquired coffee shop she didn’t think much of it. Who knew this interaction would lead her to meet the earth’s mightiest heroes and some love along the way.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

word count: 2k

warnings: some swearing, fluff, little bit of angst if you squint 

Mint Macaroons

“So you and Barnes were getting pretty cozy the other night,” Tony teased wiggling his eyebrows as he glanced over at Y/N.

Since Stark’s party, Clint’s friends seemed to be popping into the small coffee house wishing to taste the coffee that he had been raving about to them. Wanda had dropped in earlier in the week with Bruce, the two wanting to borrow a novel from her large collection that Clint had also told them about. The two were kind, sharing stories of insane and quiet funny missions with Y/N. Although Y/N was fortunate to making all these new friends, she still waited in her quaint shop for her new mysterious friend to arrive. Bucky had yet come visit the small shop to get his cup of tea that Y/N had promised him. Everyday when the small bell above the black doors in front of the shop jingled, a small part of her wished it were her metal-armed new friend that was walking through it ready to read one of her books from her collection.

“What? I’m getting pretty cozy with you here and nothings going to happen,” Y/N defended herself as she poured him more coffee.

“Ha-ha this is different and you know it kid. There aren’t many reasons why two people would spend an entire party talking to one another,” he smiled up at her thanking Y/N for refilling his coffee cup.

“Maybe I just wanted to get to know him; he seemed pretty lonely I was just trying to keep him company.”

“Barnes doesn’t talk to a lot of people,” Natasha joined in swirling her spoon in her mug as her green eyes looked up at Y/N, “he probably felt like he could trust you if he spent that long talking to you.”

“You guys are thinking too into it. We are barely friends,” she shook her head not understanding why her newfound friends thought this.

“What you don’t believe in love at first sight,” Tony asked her before taking a sip of coffee.

“Defiantly not, maybe lust at first sight but not love.”

“Well did you two have lust at first sight,” Natasha used Y/N’s words against her smirking.

“No,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “I’m not even looking for anything like that right now.”

“Why not, you’re beautiful, young, successful; why not go look for your Prince Charming,” Tony seemed adamant, as he only wanted the best for her.

“There are no such things as Prince Charming’s Tony; every guy always turns out to be an asshole somehow,” Y/N glanced up at him, Tony seeing the pain in her eyes as she spoke those words.

“I would say I’m a pretty nice guy,” he put his hand on his heart, jokingly taking her words personally.

“Well, you can be a bit pushy sometimes,” Natasha, counter teasing her friend.

“Wow Nat, I thought we were trying to make her think all men weren’t assholes.”

“I didn’t say you were I’m just saying you can be a bit pushy, it’s your fatal flaw,” Natasha joked, “I can say though not all men all assholes, maybe a lot are, but not all.”

“Well I need to meet the men you hang out with then,” Y/N began to move to make a new pot of coffee as a new group of customers arrived.

“Well have you met James Buchanan Barnes he is a nice man who is not an asshole,” Natasha offered holding back a smile.

Y/N rolled her eyes in response, “I have customers,” with that she walked away hearing the pair laughing at the conversation they had just had behind her. She could not think of Bucky that way, she hardly knows the man. Sure, she found him interesting and seemed like a kind person, but she just had met him. Besides she was not ready for something like that right now, focus had to be on the coffee shop for Alice’s sake.

“Hey Y/N we have to head out,” she looked up to see Natasha and Tony placing a couple of bills on the table as they walked towards the door.

“Okie see you guys later,” she offered a smile as she began to pick up some empty mugs.

“Listen we weren’t trying to push you into anything before, just give Bucky a chance if you want. He not like most guys,” Natasha told Y/N as she pulled her into a hug.

“Speak of the devil,” Tony motioned to the door, there stood Bucky, his long brown locks up in a loose bun with a few strands falling out as he moved to hang up his coal colored coat on the rack, “Ice cube,” Tony nodded towards Bucky, Y/N smirking at the nickname.

“Hey guys,” Bucky, offered his friends a small smile as he walked towards the group, “I didn’t know you were coming here.”

“Oh, we are just leaving actually. Just wanted to get some coffee quickly before training with Barton and Rhodey,” Natasha told Bucky before proceeding to start a quick and whispered conversation with the metal-armed man in Russian.

“They do this a lot, you would think I would be fluent in the language by now,” Y/N chuckled at Tony’s confession, “Здравствуйте,” Tony said hello in a poor Russian accent to his friends leading them to end their conversation, “we kind of have to go Nat, you know how annoyed Rhodey gets when we are late.”

“Right,” the red head smiled at Y/N, “I’ll see you later,” with that her and Tony left the small coffee shop leaving Bucky and Y/N to themselves.  

“So, what can I get you,” Y/N moved to the back of counter smiling up at Bucky, “I have a large tea selection,” she pointed to the menu behind her that was up against the brick wall. In different colored chalk, the different drink options were written on large black chalkboards that spanned most of the wall behind the granite counter.

The super solider looked up at the large selection before deciding on lemon sunset tea. With a smile, Y/N moved to make his drink as Bucky looked around her shop. He eyed her bookshelves that were placed near the fireplace. Her enormous selection left him in awe. When Y/N had informed him that she had a collection at her stop, he never imaged it would hold that many novels. Y/N placing the olive colored mug in front of him drew him out of his thoughts.

“Started to think you weren’t going to come by,” she confessed pulling up her own wooden stool to sit by him from behind the counter.

“Honestly I didn’t think I was going to come either,” he took a sip of the lemon-flavored tea embarrassed by his confession.

Y/N stayed silent for a moment not quite sure how to respond, “What afraid I was going to question your choice of the greatest musician of all time,” she joked not wanting to press what was clearly bothering him.

Her remark caused a small chuckle to come from his mouth, “I admit you would probably win that argument.”

“Who said I didn’t win the last one,” the pair shared a comfortable silence once again before Y/N had to help an elderly couple who hand entered seeking a cup of tea themselves. When she returned to sit with Bucky in her hands was a platter of green cookies with a chocolate center.

“Mint macaroons,” Y/N answered the question that lingered in his eyes, “here have one,” Bucky took a bit of the cookie and immediately smiled, as they were spectacular.

“Did you make these,” he asked her taking another bit of the macaroon.

“Yep, baking is a little passion of mine. I can’t cook for my life though it’s kind of weird,” Y/N moved to grab a cookie for herself, “What about you?”

“Me?”

“What’s a little passion of yours?”

Bucky looked around the shop trying to avoid answering, “I’m not sure honestly.”

“There has to be something that interests you so much that you can spend hours talking about,” she watched him as he searched his mind for something say.

“I- um, I use to be really interested in science and technology, but you know Hydra go in the way of that.”

All the color drained from Y/N’s face, “Oh my god I’m so sorry I wasn’t thinking-,” Bucky quickly interrupted her.

“It’s fine, really. I guess joking about it helps me come to terms with it, if that makes sense,” he met her eye.

“No I get it, it makes it seem more normal and not as terrifying anymore,” Bucky raised his eyebrows at this comment, as it was exactly how he felt about the situation.

“Anyways,” Y/N quickly changed the subject, “I have a few books about science here somewhere,” she rose moving towards the opposite side of the small shop to where the bookshelves were, “come on, oh and bring the macaroons.” Bucky picked up the platter and following her towards the bookshelves watching, as she picked up a novel read the summary and put it backed. She did this a few times before during towards him holding a black novel that had a yellow circle on the cover.

“Rise of the Machines by Thomas Rid. It talks about rise technology and mentions some of the wars in the 1900s. I haven’t had a chance to read it yet, but from the pages I skimmed it seems really interesting,” she handed him the novel, grabbing the macarons from him taking another bit out of one.

“Thanks, maybe it will help me catch up on all the things I’ve missed,” he smiled, “where did you find all those books anyway, there are lot here for one person to have collected,” he looked at her collection again in awe.

“Some of them are mine and others are some the Alice collected when she worked here. I may add the books that people leave here to the shelfs occasionally,” his eyes widened at her confession, “what, I’m not stealing them. I’m just leaving them here for others to be able to enjoy.”

“That’s kind of stealing, but I guess it’s for the greater good,” he looked down at the novel she gave him, “was this one stolen too?”

“Maybe. Listen I’m like the robin hood of books,” she laughed, “except I’m not technically taking anything, just picking up things that others forgot about.”

The pair ended up on one of the couches discussing novels they had read, while finishing the platter of macaroons. Occasionally, Y/N would get up to tend to some customers, but for most of the afternoon, the two stayed like enjoying each other’s company. After a few hours their conversation was interrupted when Bucky received a text from Steve telling him he was late for a mission briefing.

“I have to go or else Steve’s never going to leave me alone for missing this meeting. I had a great time though, it’s nice to be able to talk to someone else like this who isn’t Steve,” Bucky gave his new friend a true smile something she had not truly seen before this moment.

“Well your always welcome to drop by, it can get kind of lonely here sometimes, but I have my books,” Y/N moved to grab the now empty platter of macaroons and place it in the sink.

“Your friends don’t drop by,” Bucky wondered since Y/N seemed like she was the type of person who had many friends.

“I’m not really close with that many people. I have Alice and Clint, but I just have a lot of acquaintances not many real friends, I’m not really that great at opening up and trusting people,” she looked down at the platter in the sink.

“I’m the same way. Steve was the only person I could trust for so long, it’s been hard letting the rest of the group in, but I’m getting there.”

“Well I like to think I can add you to my short list of trusted friends now,” Y/N met his blue eyes once again hoping he will agree with her.

“I’d like to think that too,” the two looked at each other for a few moments before Bucky’s phone started to go off once again. “I guess I really have to go now,” he moved towards the coat rack to grab his jacket turning back to Y/N before he went through the black doors and out to the busy streets of the city, “I’ll see you around,” he asked her.

“Defiantly.”  

Tag List

@jadepc @xotaku-baekx @moderapoppins @unnecessarymemery  @random-american-idiot @josislife @fussballerina1909 @redstarstan @clevertheoristpainter @lucifersnipnips @crawlingnightmares @vesper-lou @ssweet-empowerment @pounchy

**crossed out usernames means it would not let me tag you 

Want to be tagged in the series??

[leapwriter]

Prompt courtesy of @corvidprompts. I hope you don’t mind I tweaked it a bit to fit the set up.

This got longer than I planned, and ends a bit abruptly, but I think I’m going to leave it here anyway.

-- 

“I want to be a creator. I — I want to do things, make things, bring joy,” says the witch — the self-proclaimed necromancer, so she’s informed me, without so much as a how-do-you-do, half a second after storming into my shop. 

“But what I am won’t allow me. I want to be good.” She swallows audibly and tears roll unchecked down her face. “Please, ma’am, I — I need your help. I don’t know what else to do.”

She looks so sad, standing there like her world is falling apart, that I can almost forgive her for interrupting my lunch. 

Sighing, I set the remains of my sandwich back on the paper bag I’d packed it in this morning. I hate emotional conniptions almost as much as I hate ill informed people who run around half-cocked, and it seems the universe has gifted me with both, rolled up into one, sobbing package. 

Lovely.

So much for a quiet lunch break.

I fix the semi-hysterical teenager with a firm look. I can be more than a little intimidating when I want to be (and I usually do), and I have enough years and legit power to back it up. Still, I have to give her some credit. Her lower lip wobbles, and a few more tears spill down her cheeks, dragging black trails of makeup behind them, but she doesn’t run. She just fidgets self consciously and runs her fingers over a lock of poorly dyed black hair.

“Look, uh —,” I trail off, realizing that despite bursting into my shop and unloading her emotional baggage on a total stranger, the girl hasn’t actually given me her name. She continues to stare mutely until I gesture towards her expectantly and she catches my drift.

“Oh,” she says, more of a hiccup than a proclamation. A faint blush creeps across freckle dusted cheeks. “Right. You can call me Raven.”

Swallowing a sigh, I lean forward, propping my elbows on the counter top. The flannel shirt I’m wearing is rolled up to the elbows, giving her a nice view of the full sleeve tattoos running up both arms and disappearing under my shirt. Ink like that catches most people’s attention, but I have to wonder if she knows what it really is, considering her claim.

I study her, gauging the reaction. Or, apparently, lack of; other than the typical few-seconds-longer-than-polite stare, she seems to brush them off as just another decoration on a colorful character.

God, she has no idea. This kid really has no clue.

I mentally wave goodbye to the half eaten ham and swiss resting on the counter, and take a closer look at what’s really standing in front of me: a naive, frightened child who may or may not be in way, way over her head. It’s that hint of indecision about which it is that tips me over the edge.

The three legged stool squeals as I shove it back, standing.

The girl — Raven — flinches, and takes a step back.

Stalking around the counter, I step past her, gesturing sharply for her to follow. “C’mon, we need to go around back for a minute.” 

I cup my hands around my mouth and shout loud enough to carry across the spacious room, “Hey, Lorelei! Can you watch the register ‘til I get back? I got something I gotta deal with for a bit.”

A dark hand raises a few aisles over, it’s owner tall enough for it to be visible over the shelves. Lorelei gives an airy wave that I take for a yes, before I shoot a sharp glance towards the girl. “Well, are you coming or not?”

“Oh!” Raven bites her lip, but nods. “Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.”

I don’t wait for further banter or second guessing before I turn on my heel and stalk off towards my office.

The shop Lorelei and I own is...big. Bigger than it looks on the outside, definitely, and the shelves of books, occult paraphernalia, crystals, and countless other odds and ends of the craft stretch back for what feels like several blocks. 

The shelves and display cabinets get less organized and taller the further back we go. By the time we’re at the office, they’re scraping the ceiling, and the collections they house have gotten decidedly more…eclectic.

The tame stuff goes in the front, the serious — and more expensive — stuff goes in the back. The really serious stuff goes in the very back, where it’s kept under lock, key, and several layers of nasty wards and curses to dissuade sticky fingers.

I don’t look back to check on the girl, but I can hear her, heavy boots stomping on the wood floors. There’s still the occasional sniffle too, but that’s mostly died out, given way to shock or curiosity. 

I don’t care. It shut her up, at any rate.

We come to a halt in front of a sturdy, oak door set into the back wall. Bookshelves flank it, crammed with dusty tomes and a few cloudy bottles of various, unlabeled substances. Reaching into the left pocket of my jeans, I pull out a small ring of keys and flip through until I find the one I want.

After unlocking the office door, I push it open and gesture for Raven to step inside. She does, with less hesitation that I’d have figured judging by her owl eyed stare. 

Once inside, I shut the door behind us and toss the keys on the massive wooden desk occupying most of the room. It’s covered in papers, books, knickknacks, a few sentimental photos of Lorelei and me, and a small herd of dirty teacups.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Raven wrinkling her nose at them in distaste.

“Alright,” I say, moving around the kid and the desk, and flopping down into the ancient desk chair sitting behind it. “So. Let’s start at the beginning.” I incline my head towards Raven. “You’re name is Raven. I’m guessing you’re what, sixteen, seventeen — ?”

“Eighteen,” she corrects quietly. “I just had my birthday last month.”

“Eighteen, then.” I nod to myself. “And you said you’re a...necromancer?”

“Yes.”

She doesn’t clarify further, so I shake my head and continue on.

“Right. OK. So what can you tell me about your family lineage? Do you get your talent from your mother or your father’s side? Who trained you, and,” I sat up straight in the chair, eliciting a squeal from the un-oiled metal. “More importantly, who the fuck told you that being a necromancer meant you were evil? Necromancy’s not evil — no magic is. It can be used for harm, sure, same as a knife can be used to kill someone or cut up a nice salad for lunch. But there isn’t any inherent darkness in the craft.”

I tipped my head to the side, thoughtful. “It’s what you do with it that defines what kind of person you are. So, Raven, tell me: what kind of person are you?”

[schonart]

The Starks (Chapter 1)

The Starks Chapter 1

 Relationships: Tony!Father x Reader!Adoptive daughter

             Peter Parker x Reader

A/N The time is currently set about 7 months prior to Captain America: Civil War. So starts before Peter got his power, since he said it has been about 6 months since he got his power in the Civil War. I’m not a huge fan of Marvel universe but I wanted to write MCU version of my original story ‘Noah Sterling’ because the main character has similar personality to Tony. Hope you enjoy this

Not much story in this chapter so I will upload the next soon.

-

[Name] Stark is not her real name. But that doesn't matter. She was just a normal girl, suffering through school because of bullies, suffering at the orphanage because of the director, and suffering through the never-ending nightmare that seem to torture her endlessly. That’s when her supposedly savior came.

Tony Stark never intended to have a child. Never. Children were nuisance. And with him being a world-wide famous playboy, he thought having a child would just mean having mini version of himself running through the house, which was quiet annoying even from the thought of it.. But things changed that day when he saw tuff of white hair -more than usual- and decided that he at least needed a successor to the Stark Company. And that was why he searched through the whole orphanage of New York and finally found a ‘perfect’ figure –a teenager, he would never have someone younger than 13, with brilliant mind that he expected was enough to keep the Stark Industry from dying.

When [Name] arrived at the Avengers Tower for the first time she was 15 and the first thing that greeted her was the voice of an AI, F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“Welcome to the Avengers Tower, Miss [Name]. F.R.I.D.A.Y. at your service, ma’am.” The polite voice of the system made her smile.

“Come to the elevator and I will lead you to your room.” [Name] nodded to the invisible assistant? Butler? She doubted he would like those descriptions.

[Name] carried her bag to the elevator and it went up. She didn’t have much to bring, just some of her text books, a teddy bear, and journals. After all, her new parent did tell her there’s no need of bringing clothes or anything like that. So she didn’t.

She examined her reflection in the elevator door. Certainly not an image you would want from Stark. Messy hair, dull eyes, bags under them, and the cloths. Technically didn’t seem like cloths at all. They were just rags. But not wearing a makeup made her look slightly younger than her age. Still, her cloths bothered her to some point, being automatically compared to the place she was in. She sighed but she decided long ago not to mind that. No one cared anyway.

With a bright ‘ding’ sound the elevator door opened.

“Welcome to the 72nd floor, this is where the Avengers members stay, except for the boss.”

For a moment, she couldn’t believe her eyes and just stayed there.

“Is anything wrong ma’am?”

The voice made her come back to Earth and she got off the elevator. She had never seen such an amazing apartment flat, it was gorgeous.

Starting from the elevator, there was some kind of ‘catwalk’ with two steps on the either side of it. The walk crossed the floor to the other side, dividing it in half.

“Can I take a look around?” She asked.

“Of course, ma’am.”

[Name] took a look around. On the left side of the walk was the living room. She carefully stepped down, the ‘living room’, it had square mahogany coffee table in the middle, soft rug covered the floor and two couches with very dark shade of red was next to the table. Both facing the table, one faced the catwalk and the other faced the wall.

Speaking of the wall, the wall on the side of the building was made of glass. So she could see the beautiful view of Manhattan when it becomes night time. The other wall, the one that the couch was facing, had huge television hanging on it.

[Name] stared at it for a moment and then headed to the other side.

It was kitchen she was in now. All the cabinets, sink, fridge, etc. were all in beautiful shade of burgundy with silver edges. They were covering up half of the wall and right next to the window – taking up the other half of the wall- was counter, replacing the need for dining table. There were 3 stools on the either sides of the counter in rainbow color. She smiled and stroked the top, made of marble. Next to the stool was the dining table, it wasn’t huge but it was big enough for 10 people to eat at the same time.

But both the living room and the kitchen were empty. She wondered where were the other members went.

“The other members have went to train.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, as if she read [Name]’s mind.

“I see.” [Name] said.

She then headed back to the catwalk and went to where it led to. The walk soon became a hallway and the light turned on itself, there numerous amount of doors on either side of the wall. The door all had different colors, the member’s signature or favorite color.

“Your room is at the end of the hallway.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. instructed.

[Name] walked down the hall which seemed to be endless until she reached the door, literally signaling the end. She opened it and for a moment she didn’t move.

The room was a giant rectangle. But it was more like a small apartment or a fancy hotel room than a teenage girl’s room. There were two doors on the wall left to the place she was standing, and one on the right. The door on the right led to a small room and except for those doors, it was just a room.

She, deciding to check the doors later, stepped in to the room in order to take a closer look, a giant bed on the corner next to the room’s wall, a drawer next to the bed with night stand on it. And a mini fridge on the other corner.

She decided to take a look around and went into the small room that was taking up 1/5 of the whole room. She thought it would be a bathroom.

It was a walk-in closet. And it seemed bigger now that she was in there. It was organized very well and were filled with clothes, shoes, accessories, bags, etc. and had a big make up table as well. Now if she was a normal teenage girl she would be squealing in excitement but unfortunately she wasn’t. She didn’t care much for the clothes. Although she appreciated very much that someone, probably Tony Stark or Ms. Potts, was very concerning about her. She appreciated it very much.

“It was Ms. Potts’ idea to make a closet this big, although boss didn’t appreciate it very much.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said to her boss’ defense.

“I got it.” [Name] answered. Staring at the collection of the cloths. There were only few that suited her taste, she kept a note to herself to check them out later.

She walked out of the room and headed to the room across her. A bathroom. Rather big for a bathroom though. It had ivory tiles on the floor, toilet and the sink close to the door, cabinet above the sink, shower stool on the left corner and a bath tub on the right. The tub was Jacuzzi. She stroked the wall, in the color of very pale yellow, and blinked. Trying to sink in that this was her own bathroom. That she didn’t need to share it with anyone else.

“Is there anything wrong ma’am?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked and [Name] shook her head. She thought it would take a long time to get used to such treatment.

She then headed to the next room. Hoping it was finally something she would appreciate. And she opened the door and gasped.

It was a library.

Her own personal library.

All 4 walls were covered gigantic bookshelves of very dark shaded wood. The shelves in the wall were filled with books of all sorts of genres, well categorized. In the middle of the room there was a desk of same shade of wood, on top of it were a humongous desktop computer, and few other objects. She walked up closely to see what they were. She was excited by the fact that she had to go through other small empty bookshelves to get to the desk.

There were white brand new smartphone, a tablet PC, and a Master card. She sat on the desk, squealing in excitement.

“I’ll report to Mr. Stark that you have arrived. He just came back.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said and it became silent.

And now she was left alone, fully alone. Her face was filled with happiness as she looked around the room. She had asked for books when Tony asked her about what she wanted to have, and now she was surrounded by them.

“I have a good taste.”

That was what Tony said, satisfied with his choice of kid.

She then spotted a post-it on the screen of the desktop. She teared it off and read it out in a whisper.

“Hope you like it sweetheart.” She grinned, grateful that he was treating her like she was a princess or something.

She was about to pick a book but she heard a ‘ding’ from outside and with slight disappointment she walked out of the room.

She spotted Tony standing in front of the elevator, looking for his daughter.

He spotted her and she walked up to him.

“So, I guess F.R.I.D.A.Y. has already gave you a tour? Did you like it? Would you like for me to rearrange it?”

[Name] quickly shook her head, “No, no. Mr. Stark, it, it’s perfect, th-thank you.”

Tony raised his brow, “Well, we might need to work on this ‘Mr. Stark’ thing. I’m your father now. Remember?”

[Name] flinched a bit. Barely noticeable.

“Should I call you Father then?”

Tony just shrugged. He would have preferred ‘Tony’ or ‘dad’ but if that's what she wanted then he would go along with it.

“Well, um Father? Thank you so much for everything.” [Name] said timidly. Tony smiled and awkwardly patted her shoulder.

“Well kiddo, it’s you and me from now on. So if you have any problem, just tell me. We are family now, got it sweetheart?”

[Name] gave a sweet smile and nodded.

Never did they know, never did they know.

[inaflorian-blog]

Faint

(a little continuation to the piece I wrote for June’s eruri of the month)

Some mornings Levi comes in his office, sits on the sofa or on a stool by the bookshelves, brings with him a pot of tea and a whetstone for his knife and works it over the edge for hundreds of strokes until he’s satisfied. Today he leaves as quietly as he came, closing the door with barely a creak when he returns, his steps mere echoes of others’. When Erwin looks up in thought, Levi’s there and his head rises, his eyes focus for a little while before he looks back down to his cup of tea.

He gets up after noon, brings Erwin a steaming bowl of stew and freshly baked bread, sits there a few more minutes before leaving him alone to forget to eat until the food has grown cold and near stale. The next time he comes around he brings a waft of soap and his posture is more relaxed, his eyes mere slits as he takes the dishes away only to replace them with another tray before circling around the table.

The close proximity alerts Erwin then, makes him rub at his eyes tiredly as he realises he has squinted from the reducing light. His posture is steely, his neck is aching from hunching over the text, the maps, whatever he has been working on and he turns to look at Levi whose hand sneaks past his own as he closes the book he’s been peering at, making notes of, and sighs tiredly.

“You should have a break,” he says much more gently than Erwin knows he means to.

Erwin looks around the room, realises it’s later in the day than he thought, realises he needs to get on his feet to remind his body of its natural flow and he concedes, nodding once and avoiding Levi’s eyes that haunt at his. When he gets back, after washing up and freshening his shave with a few quick swipes of the blade he suspects Levi’s whetstone has passed against, he takes a seat on the sofa where the tray is now waiting and bites into the bread, already flaky and a little dried. He grimaces at the taste of hot peppers in the food, allowing the prickling and burning to bite into his cheeks and lips as he swallows the last bits with the bread.

“They’re trying a new rotation in the kitchens,” Levi says from his desk where he likes to stay until Erwin has eaten. “The chef said the heat helps with indigestion.”

Erwin drinks the water in the wooden cup gratefully and feels its cooling effect immediately. He hasn’t realised how much the heat of the food has affected him until he passes a hand over his face.

“It’s certainly different,” Erwin says carefully as he moves to get on his feet. The muscles on his thighs pull painfully and his lower back twinges sympathetically.

Levi is quick to collect the tray. “When I come back you had better not be sitting down.”

Erwin nods absently, feels Levi’s pause before the sigh that follows and the slight creak of the door as it pulls shut. He runs his hand through his hair, feeling a start of a headache as he moves over to his desk, looking at the pieces of the puzzle he’s working on. His eyes move on the drawings, the numbers and intercepted letters and he is relieved to not see anything for a second as it all blurs in his vision. He is vaguely aware of the almost-soft embrace of the floor as his face connects with it and he blacks out.

“Erwin?”

He can feel a hand going over his body, over his chest, his face, forehead, pausing once more over his chest before he’s being hauled upwards and onto something soft and comfortable. His eyes sting with exhaustion as he tries to open them, his whole body feels rigid with tension, it reminds him of a corpse’s body, stiff and tightening.

“Don’t move,” he hears the voice say again. It’s commanding, like his father used to sound like when he tried to climb a tree too high, when he had sneaked to stand on top of the wall with Nile, to see the land beyond, to see the titans.

“I’ll be right back.”

He feels the hand leaving his chest, the steps turning fast and loud and he can hear a panic in that commanding voice. Like his mother’s when he told her he was going to join the Survey Corps.

Erwin waits. He feels his heart hammering in his chest, the dryness of his mouth, the twitching feeling in his gut and he just waits, knowing this is why Levi is with him in his office every day. He opens his eyes against the burning, sees his office ceiling, the wooden beams that threaten to spin in his vision when he moves his eyes.

“Commander,” the doctor speaks when he enters the room seconds later and Erwin feels sick with the motion it brings into his field of vision. He closes his eyes tightly, relaxing only when a hand brushes against his arm. “Where is the pain?”

Erwin wants to laugh at the absurdity. “My head is spinning.”

“He was on the ground,” Erwin hears Levi say quietly from above him.

“Fainted.”

He can feel the doctor’s hands on him, on his neck, throat and chest and shoulders, pressing and prodding. He moves quickly and efficiently before he sighs.

“I should like to have a word with you,” the doctor says faintly and Erwin is almost completely sure it’s not him the doctor is talking to.

Soon enough he feels a slight squeeze on his arm before he hears the men leave the room. He wishes there was a cold cloth he could press over his eyes to stop the spinning. It isn’t unfamiliar to him to faint, he had stood on the wall for hours back when he was only a cadet and he remembers it clearly even this day when he woke up to Nile screaming and shaking him after having collapsed, and this doesn’t feel like that. He feels he can barely move his head from the aching.

The door goes again and Erwin sighs, his head pulsing in the rhythm of the spinning. “Levi?”

“I’m here,” the man says, walking to him. “You need to sleep.”

“Alright.“

“You’ve exhausted yourself.”

“I see,” he says, realising there is no arguing with Levi when he can barely even open his eyes.

“Bedroom then.”

Erwin opens his eyes, fighting to control his vision of Levi. “Would you help me up?”

Levi nods, pulling him up slowly. “There’s no one in the corridor. I’ve cleared it.”

“Thank you,” he whispers when they take their first step and Levi loops his arm around his neck.

It seems like hours before they reach his bedroom and Levi drops his arm. The room is cool, like it always is before night, the sheets are fresh and there’s a scent of pine in the air. The window has been propped open. He can almost feel the breeze even if he doesn’t dare turn to look.

Sleep comes easy and when he wakes up, feeling heavy and limp and rested, he blinks his eyes open in the sunlight that comes in through the window. The spinning has stopped. There’s a washbowl next to him filled with water and a damp cloth on the nightstand beside it. He doesn’t remember any of it.

“Levi?” he dares to ask but there’s no response. He looks down on his body and hopes to see something fresh but noticing the uniform he sits up at the edge of his bed and sighs.

He washes himself with a few bucketfuls of cool water, running his hands over his tense shoulders harder than usually before he wraps himself in a towel and cleans himself in front of the mirror, parting his hair, giving himself a careful shave and rubbing a touch of oil on the drying sunburns on his cheeks before brushing his teeth and drinking a glass of water.

Erwin finds Levi outside where the Corps horses are being doused with cool water from the well after what seems to have been a rigorous exercise. The Captain is giving his horse a bath, soaking her mane with cool water, giving her a soft murmur every once in a while. He doesn’t notice Erwin watching until he’s all out of water.

“You seem rested,” the man says tightly, his lips pressed thin as he moves over to the well, pumping the water out to rinse his hands. A soldier comes up to ask Levi if he can dry his horse. Levi dismisses him with an impatient yes.

They walk side by side back towards the main barracks building, to an empty arched hallway along one of the outer walls. Levi’s steps are fast to Erwin’s unhurried and he turns to look at him in irritation.

“What? Are you going to pass out again?” the man asks, clearly dismayed and Erwin feels a flush of shame on his cheeks.

“I am sorry you had to see that,” he tells Levi who scoffs in return.

“Of course you are.”

Erwin looks at the man, his uniform dusty from the exercise, his hair damp with sweat and his face gritty from the ODM training. There’s a frown, a closed up, hurt edge to the way he looks at Erwin and he wants to ignore it, to push it aside and forget how much there is there.

“I don’t want you to think I am ungrateful for all you have done for me,” he tries, hoping to express how much he means the words even if their relationship doesn’t seem to always allow it.

Levi doesn’t seem happy with that either, his displeasure apparent in the way he fidgets on his feet.

“Thank you, Levi,” Erwin says, trying again to reach the man, pausing to steel himself before looking up at him. Levi faces him with the anger that grows with every single failure of Erwin’s.

He tries to keep the distance between them, he tries to keep the man from his bedroom, he tries to keep his mind from wandering but when Levi steps closer, takes another step and reaches for his face, pulls his chin up and looks him in the eye with that frown, there’s nothing he can fight with and there is nothing he can protect himself with.

“I’m sorry,” Levi tells him softly, looking up at him, his eyes flickering with worry when Erwin feels the familiar hand coming up to rest between them over his chest. “You scared me. That’s all.”

He looks down at the man, at his face gritty with sand that seems to have baked into a layer in the sun and he lifts his fingers to brush it off, passing his thumb over Levi’s lips, sighing when he knows he has to pull back and letting go of that necessity when Levi reaches for his neck and pulls him down into a quick kiss that sparks more than it should have the power to before letting go of him and stepping back, looking away at last and granting Erwin some dignity.

“I’ll bring tea after I’m done washing up,” the man says, dismissing himself.

They have tea in his office, hear the reports from the Officers and even have a long dinner with Hange who indulges them with a new idea for a study that makes Levi shudder. That night when Levi gets up to close the books on Erwin’s desk, he doesn’t mind it. He lets the man lead him to his bedroom and he allows himself this freedom he has closed his heart to too many times. 

[eureka-its-zico]

Obsession

Scenario: The temp agency sent you to a new job that was supposed to be something simple that came along with easy money: lots of easy money. But simple is far from what you get when you realize, being the secretary for Jeon Jungkook, comes with his own form of demands.

A/N: this is part one of the obsession series. I blame Jungkook with his stupid sultry looks and how damn good he’s looked in suits the whole BS&T era. I ended up writing this last night sitting in my car for almost two hours.This is honestly going to be dirty and kinky and I’m not gonna apologize. I hope you all enjoy!

Genre: Jungkook x Reader

Words: 3100

Disclaimer: As always, any gifs used are not mine and belong to their rightful owners!!

Warnings: Smut, oral, and slight rough play

“I am a professional. I. Am. A. Professional. I’M A GODDAMN PROFESSIONAL!”

Your hands smacked down on the marble of the bathroom counter. The words you’d been muttering to your reflection over and over like a damn mantra somehow becoming less effective. You felt like you couldn't breathe in the high-waisted pencil skirt, which wasn’t a ludicrous assumption since you could barely walk properly in it with, or without, the heels.

The reason behind your anxiety ridden pep talk: Jeon Jungkook.

One of the youngest high-ranking executives in the company, he was known for being incredibly smart; thinking outside the box to close deals and create new overseas partnerships, charming, and a decorated athlete. Before you’d been assigned to the company as his latest secretary, the only time you’d actually ever seen him was on the cover of magazines and photographed next to expensive people with beautiful faces to match. Jeon Jungkook held a life you envied.

You’d only ended up at the temp agencies to help find work that paid a lot of money in hopes to pay off your latest stint at “finding yourself.” So far you’d taken culinary classes, architecture and design, and one semester of medical. You bounced around from major to major so much your financial aid eventually ran out, and you were left with hefty bills and no official career.

The first day at the office had been an even bigger disaster than your nonexistent degrees going up in flames. You didn't own anything that was even half as fancy as what was inside the building, but you’d done what you could. You knew it wasn't enough. It was spoken plainly by the looks you received when you exited the elevator and were greeted by the main receptionist in the lobby. Her desk was in the shape of a circle so wide it practically took up the entire room, leaving barely enough space to get through on either side. Everything screamed of over the top rich tastes, from the chandelier above the entrance to the cherry wood floors. The receptionists reaction spoke volumes: you didn't belong there.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh-uhm yes. I’ve been assigned as Mr. Jeon’s new secretary.”

The girl at the front didn't even try to hide her scoff of disbelief. Her eyes taking you in as your hands rung with nerves into the cords of your purse. She continued to eye you before she removed herself from her seat and flicked her index finger for you to follow.

“Oh, he is going to love this,” she snickered, leaving you to hurry to catch up.

It seemed everywhere you walked people stopped in their glassed offices to watch your descent down the hallway. The other workers in cubicles regarding you like a dead woman walking, until you wished you could just hide your face behind your purse.

You finally reached a pair of large dark wood doors. It seemed like they would weigh a ton, but the receptionist easily pushed it open and bowed immediately.

“Mr. Jeon your - ah - new secretary is here from the agency.”

You hated how amused she looked as she side-eyed your position that was still hiding behind the door.

“Well: where is she?”

His voice was soft and it made you imagine the man it belonged too had to be kind and understanding. You took a deep breath and made your way slowly around the door your feet carrying you inside until you were almost to the center of the massive room. It was indeed massive.

On both sides of the room there were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that housed a vast array of objects. From books, photos, and what appeared to be collectibles. A bar with a couple stools in the corner to your left and a long leather couch that appeared like it was more for looks than comfort. The room was breathtaking in such a way that what you’d learned in your short stint doing architecture made you able to appreciate it. The most breathtaking thing of all, however, was the man seated behind an ornate desk.

The first thing you could mention about him was his intensity. Actually, intense didn't feel like the right word. What Jungkook carried felt stronger than that. It left your body trapped between a need to fidget and another to want a moment alone with him. Magazines did him no justice: Jungkook was more flawless in person.

You felt helpless as he regarded you with his dark eyes, but remained unreadable. You were willing to bet though, that whatever he was thinking it wasn't good.

“No.”

It was only one word: one syllable, and it still felt like you’d been crushed by a rock. Jungkook raised up from behind his desk with his hands delving into the pockets of his tailored suit as he came around the desk. This time you did grip your purse tightly to you as you were able to see now the look of distaste on his face.

“This is a high class place of business,” he stated his feet stopping just a few inches away from you. You wondered if your eyes were the size of saucers as you looked up at him. “This isn't a library. I requested for a new secretary: not a librarian.”

A hand moved from the safety of his pocket. His fingers moving out to pinch the fabric of your sweater and raised it up just before he let it drop. His hands rubbing immediately on his trousers like you were hiding cat lady coodies inside.

“I’m the only girl at the agency that is more than qualified for your company's classifications. My wardrobe shouldn't be an issue if the work is completed.”

You were practically seething. How dare he act like you were a commoner and he was royalty. You expected him to flat out tell you that you were fired or that he would request someone else. Instead, he’d added insult to injury by reaching back inside his pocket and pulling out money. Jungkook didn't even bother to look at the amount before he handed it over to you.

“I’m sure you can't afford a decent wardrobe, so consider this an advance. Go buy things that are appropriate for work tomorrow. If you don't, you can consider this your last day and that your final pay.”

And like that he dismissed you. He turned on his heels and headed back behind his desk. You wanted to show him how ladylike you could be by chucking your shoe at him. Instead, you stormed back towards the door and struggled not to sprint to the elevator. Hours after you’d left you struggled with whether or not you could afford to take the high ground and never go back, but the fact was you couldn't. You needed the money and the experience wouldn't look so bad on a new resume.

So you came back to work that next morning dressed similarly like the Barbie who’d helped you yesterday morning. Jungkook had only glanced over your new look briefly before his eyes went back to the papers in front of him and a dismissive hand waving you off.

“Your desk is outside and always keep the company phone on you in case it's an emergency. In which case, I’ll need to get a hold of you immediately.”

That was how you’d ended up with four months of this hellhole under your belt. With long nights of getting no sleep from him calling at ungodly hours asking you to go back to the office and to prepare documents he needed for an early meeting. You kept telling yourself when you were in the shower, washing you hair for the second (or was it the third?) time, that you were going to quit. That week would be the last god forsaken week you’d have to spend with him and that company, but each week rolled around and you never did. You weren't sure if it was because you’d grown accustom to it or your own fascination with Jungkook had finally warped your brain.

It’d only been four months, but within those months you’d learned a lot through office gossip. The girls frequently talked about Mr. Jeon and his...toys. He was notorious around the office for having a new fling every few months. The last one being a girl in finance who didn't take the rejection so well, and ended up breaking a window as security hauled her from the building.

The rumors didn’t just frequent with girls, or the fact you were his fifth secretary in a year, but also about certain kinks. It was no secret to anyone who’d been there over a year that Jungkook was known for having experimented with things outside of the norm. There were talks of him having sex in public places, whispers of BDSM, and one girl claiming she’d seen him leaving a place known for their specialties in multiple partners at once.

It all should have been things that you should've found revolting, and spurred you to want as little interaction with Jungkook as possible. Somehow, it only created the opposite effect. You’d found yourself appreciating his wide shoulders and the way his wardrobe always seemed to showcase his lean frame. From his biceps, chest, and how the fabric of his trousers wrapped around his thighs. Your body practically humming its pleasure when he stood near you on the elevator or stayed just two seconds too long reading his messages at your desk.

You scolded yourself constantly for this. He was your boss, not to mention, you didn't want to end up just another notch under his belt. You didn't want to be another “her” the office girls mentioned to the next girl who showed up to replace you. The only thing you felt positive about was that you knew the feeling wasn't mutual. Or at least that's what you’d thought.

Lately, Jungkook made you question your own sanity. Your last elevator ride together: had he always stood that close? When he’d called you into his office to get the folders ready for presentations: did his hand actually caress your calves? You could've been imagining things.

But there was no imagining things earlier that day when you’d both got inside the elevator that morning. The both of you standing on opposite sides when his hand reached out and pressed the STOP button. Your eyes instantly widened with panic, since you weren't all that great with confined spaces. You were about to turn and ask him if he was fucking crazy when you let out a startled yelp.

Jungkook was already next to you. His chest pressing against your shoulder until you turned fully to face him. You backpedaled until your back touched the metal of the elevator walls. You felt like a cornered nun as Jungkook filled what space you’d created. Your hands reached out in an attempt to make some space, but ended up pressed back against his chest. You tried to ignore how solid and strong it felt and the feeling of hands tracing up the sides of your skirt. Your eyes staggered on the small mole on his neck and in a moment of sheer stupidity you looked at the matching one just under his lip making a lazy smirk appear.

You’d been so distracted by your own self that when you felt his hand slide into your hair, and his fingers begin to weave tight at the scalp, it’d been too late. A gasp tore from you as he pulled your head back just enough that it left you looking up into his eyes. His pupils blown from desire while his free hand moved to trace softly along your bottom lip and down to your jawline before it trailed further down.

You wanted to say it was painful having him pull your hair. You wanted to shame him and scream because it's what you felt like you should've done. The actual  truth was what left you paralyzed in place.

You loved it.

You loved how effortlessly he’d taken control of you. Your body backed against a wall with his entire body holding you captive against it. Every small tug of your hair he provided left your body screaming for more and your pussy trembling to be touched.

“How long has it been, Y/N? It's going on five months? Five months and you've been such a good girl.”

Jungkook’s hand that’d traced down to your collarbone moved down between you. His hand enveloping your breast and giving your nipple a slight pinch through the fabric. A moan slipped from you and your body pushed against him, pleading for him to go further.

“I've always wondered what a good girl tastes like.”

He’d left you stunned for a brief moment. His hand disappeared from your scalp, leaving it to tingle with a slight ache but that wasn't what actually stunned you. Jungkook had dropped to the elevator floor on his knees. His hands moving your pencil skirt up your thighs like it was nothing. He spread your panties away from your pussy and his mouth instantly dipped down. His tongue darted out to lick lavishly up your folds, before he sucked your clit into his mouth. This time your moan came out like a scream as your hands delved into his hair. You surprised yourself by not using it to pull him away, but to push him closer to your core.

Your legs shook as you looked down and watched his jaw flex and his tongue move between your folds. The way his tongue felt flicking over your clit in spurts left you grinding down on his mouth. You wanted to care that you were doing this inside of an elevator where there were no doubt cameras. That your boss had his tongue in your pussy or that he was now looking up at you to watch your eyes roll back into your head.

When he added a finger you couldn't stop your legs from wobbling in your heels. Your back arched against the metal and your hands rushed up to grab your breasts. A moan that came out like a shout brought out by Jungkook entering a second digit. They pumped in and out of you, each time their angle changing in search of your g-spot. You prayed he wouldn't find it as a shaky breath left you; your body coming undone at his touch in a matter of minutes.  

He brought his mouth back down to your pussy and began to kiss and suck on the swollen bud. You watched as he spread your lips, his tongue moving between your folds and ended on your clit. His lips coming down seconds later to gently suck it before giving it a kiss. Jungkook pulled back a little and you wanted to beg for him not to stop when his hand landed a light smack down on your Core. You gave a yelp in surprise while your legs tried to close, but Jungkook held them open with ease. The second time he did it, you actually moaned.

You were overwhelmed by your own desire to get embarrassed at the idea something so...violent would turn you on. He quickly spit on the tips of his fingers and began to rub them against your swollen bud. Your hips rolled into him and lifted up to give him a better angle or view you, weren’t entirely sure. His one hand still fingering you while the other continued to rub vigorously on your clit. Your hands helplessly reached for the guard rail and prayed you stayed upright, but when he landed a smack with a little more force down on your pussy for a third time you came.

You came screaming on trembling legs as your walls tightened around his fingers that continued to thrust inside you. You were positive you were going to be a messy heap on the elevator floor. Your orgasm so intense you could feel your juices seeping down your thigh. Jungkook must have noticed too, because his head dipped back between your legs.

His tongue licked up what made it to your inner thigh before his tongue moved up to your pussy. Another shout left you, your core sensitive from the orgasm that was still sending tremors through your body. Jungkook didn't care. His mouth ate up your juices until your hands feebly tried to push him away.

When he was sated Jungkook moved gracefully back to his feet. His hand taking out a handkerchief he used to wipe his hands and mouth. You were still leaning against the corner of the elevator when he pushed the STOP button back in. The elevator jolted back to life seconds later and you hurried to fix your skirt. You’d barely finished when the doors opened and Jungkook moved to step out.

“Now I know: good girl’s taste like cherries.”

You’d stayed in the corner of the elevator and watched as Jungkook adjusted his suit and stepped out. The doors closed behind him and you felt like your common sense had rushed back at his exit. You needed to get your shit together, because you had to sit in on a meeting with him in less than five minutes to take notes.

You’d thought you could do it when you came into the room and bowed. You refused to look in his direction or regard him at all the entire meeting after you’d made the mistake once. The desire in his eyes making your core tighten. It's how you ended up here in the bathroom. Your body rising and bowing in repeated apologies as you asked to be excused.

Your reflection now resembled a deer caught in the headlights. This was only supposed to be a job. That was it. What were you supposed to do now, when every time you closed your eyes you saw his tongue licking between your folds. Your hands tightened against the porcelain sink as you clenched your eyes shut. You were trying to come up with a new mantra when the sound of the bathroom door clicking open made you internally groan. Of course you would forget to lock the door.

“I'm sorry this bathroom is occupied.”

When you didn't hear the sound of anyone retreating your eyes opened to look in the mirror only to see Jungkook locking the door behind him.