#i promise i shall reblog like a normal person from now!

[sable-hart]

@sebnimassoudafm

“Ah, Professor Hart... I didn't see you there.” He did. And it did not matter. Whoever she was, he was still going to go that route. Sebni is anything if not practical, methodical, or just plain predictable. Turning his attention away from his roses, he met the woman's gaze with a smile. “A lecturing opportunity? What kind? Can't say I'm not interested.”

For the most part, it was highly practical, methodical, and plain predictable for the mutant with plant manipulation to be a professor of botany, but Seb was also well-versed in the field of English language and literature. A hobby mostly, sure, but he had plenty of lessons to share with whomever would like to hear them. Or had the time to indulge his ramblings. “I'd offer you tea, but we'd have to leave this place.”

She waves off the offer of tea; Sable's always been of the opinion that hot drinks for conversations like these are utilised by people who don't know what to do with their hands while talking.

"I've got some students that are interested in architecture in literature -- specifically impossible architecture, liminality, that sort of thing. Borges, Murakami, Danielewski. But literature's really not my area of expertise. Is that something you'd have any ideas about? It's all a bit... speculative for my area, but I think their interest is from the perspective of architecture, you know, when you encounter impossible structures in literature, how can we picture them, how can we imagine them, is it possible to evoke them in reality? They're a pretty practical cohort, and they're used to blueprints and so on. Imagining the unimaginable is an interesting challenge for them."

Sable rarely has space for literature in her syllabus, but she does want to encourage students to follow their passions, so a guest lecture on literature might be a good thing to keep them engaged.

[kurishiri]

01 . . . alfons main story

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: description of children’s corpses, a kiss scene that could be dub-con.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, show me not a dream I long to see.

Though naught but sad things does reality enthrall,

lay your truth down here before me,

lest upon this love an illusion shall befall. [1]

After having known the secret that was Crown, an assassination organization that operated directly under Her Majesty the Queen,

it was decided that I would be residing in their castle for one month’s time, fulfilling my role as a “fairytale keeper,” whose job is to record their sins.

That night, I could not sleep a wink before dawn broke.

(I have never wished for morning to come more than today...)

When I closed my eyes, the scene from last night, where red blood painted over jet black, popped, and the fear that crept up within me was enough to induce tears.

(But I need to get it together now. Crying won’t help anything.)

I washed my face with cold water, changed into a clean blouse, and tried to cheer myself up.

(I will earn their trust, and then I can go back to my normal life.)

(That is what I should be doing.)

I couldn’t afford to be petrified in fear.

Kate: I need to face the reality I’m in.

(And...)

Kate: When all this is over, I will go enjoy a play!

As it stood right now, that hope was the only thing keeping my spirits up.

When I left my room, I quickly managed to catch Victor in the lounge to ask some questions.

Kate: When you said you would be watching over me, what exactly does that entail?

Victor: Hmm, let’s see now. Not going out on your own would be the first thing.

V: Also, I’ll have you accompany some of the Cursed ones on missions so you can write a proper report. Other than that, you’re free to do as you like.

Though I had barged in with a pen and notebook in hand, Victor welcomed me with a bright smile and answered my questions the same way.

Kate: And anytime I do wish to go out, who should I ask then?

Victor: Anyone is a-okay! Whenever you wish to head out, you can call out to anyone who happens to be around or make a promise with them and whatnot.

Kate: Oh, and also, I didn’t bring any money with me... is that still alright?

Victor: Totally! After all, this is a job employed by an organization directly under Her Majesty the Queen.

V: We are willing to fund you with as much money you need to accomplish your job, and you also don’t have to worry about basic needs, too.

V: Are there any other questions? I take it that focus will be a struggle when doubts are clouding your mind... so don’t hold back and ask anything you want.

(Other things I want to ask...)

Kate: You mentioned before that I need to record the sins of the Cursed ones, but what does that mean, exactly?

Victor: The truth you see before your eyes, and anything you feel is a sin... if you can write those types of things down, that will do.

(So in other words, it’s a matter of my own judgment... it seems like this job may be more difficult than I initially thought.)

Just what makes a sin, well, a ‘sin’?

The basis which makes up a ‘sin’ is different for every person.

(But at least now I have a clearer idea of what a ‘fairytale keeper’ is.)

(I feel a bit more at ease now that I do...)

I noted down Victor’s words in my notepad while it was still fresh in my memory.

Alfons: I must say the sight of your earnesty is so admirable, it has rendered me in utter awe.

I turned around to the voice behind me, and I saw that at some point Alfons was standing at the entrance.

It was clear that he was making fun of me as he applauded.

Kate: Of course I am... my freedom hinges on this, after all.

Alfons: I can only hope that is not an attempt to put on a brave face to do away your fear.

(Gh...)

On instinct, my face stiffened at his words.

Alfons: Oh, dear me, have I perhaps hit a little too close to home?

A: Hehe, your expression so openly betrays your thoughts.

He seemed like he was having fun, as though he had found a new toy, as he approached me,

when suddenly a saccharine smell wafted to my nose.

Kate: Is that perfume...?

When I murmured this, Victor let out a wry laugh.

Victor: I see you went out last night once again, no, Alfons?

Alfons: Why, but of course.

A faint smile playing on his lips,

and veiled in that sickly sweet fragrance, bringing about a languid air——

(Gh, this fragrance... so it’s like that?)

He opened his eyes, and as though seeing right through me, he cast a glance my way.

Alfons: Hehe...

Kate: ...!!

Alfons: Ahha! You are so clearly alert, I see.

A: Why, you do so remind me of a cat who has yet to warm up to humans.

I slowly backed away, and he started calling out to me as though I really were a cat.

Alfons: Come now, you need not bristle so much. Why don’t we get along, yes? If we do, I can give you a treat.

Kate: Wha...!

Victor: Now, now, you two.

The one who put an end to this unproductive discussion was Victor.

Victor: I’m sure if it seemed like you were coming back in the morning, it would only be natural that Kate is on edge.

V: She’s a young lady, after all. Right?

Kate: Ah, umm, yes, that’s right.

(That’s right... I also didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, so that may have caused the blood to rise to my head for a moment there.)

(And Alfons might have infiltrated somewhere in Soho [2] for a mission.)

(Yes... it’s not good to hold any preconceived notions toward others.)

Kate: ...My apologies. I jumped to conclusions even though I don’t know you well.

Alfons: Your apology is quite unfounded, seeing as exercising caution would actually be in your best interest.

A: After all, the nightlife is my raison d’être.

Alfons gave a bow as if he were making a greeting at a party.

Alfons: And all that aside, your stay will last but a mere month, so getting to know me on any deeper level would be a fool’s errand. So, see, your apology is only wasted on me.

With exaggerated gestures, he walked toward me,

Alfons: Besides, I do like cats as well.

With a saccharine murmur, he blew on my ear.

Kate: !?

Shrugging his shoulders, he broke into an amused smile.

Alfons: Ahha! What a green reaction. You truly are an innocent, adorable little robin, aren’t you.

A: Why, to think I can have you as a plaything [3] for this coming month... this may become the best time killer yet, dare I say.

His fingertips made their way to my ears, tickling them, and on a reflex, I stepped away from him, covering my ears.

(Wh... wha...)

Alfons: Well then, I will be taking my leave here to go to bed. I bid you two a good night.

Victor: Good night, and sweet dreams, Alfons.

Alfons: I could really use the wishes for sweet dreams now.

Paying no mind to my reaction, Alfons left the lounge.

(Just who does he think he is——!?)

Kate: So, he sleeps in the morning?

Victor: Well, yes, it happens a lot with him.

(Forget about preconceived notions... Alfons really is dangerous.)

Though he dons a courteous air as a noble, I could practically feel the fragrance of corruption and an air of danger.

(For someone like William, who can manipulate people to do his bidding and kill them, it doesn’t take a detective to know he was dangerous, but...)

(Something tells me Alfons is dangerous as well — just in a different way.)

——An indulgent private life.

That was what popped into my mind.

And then, time passed by without a care, and before I knew it, night fell, and with it a “mission.”

The three people who were on this one were William, Roger, and Alfons.

William: I will carry out the assassination. Roger, I leave the perimeter to you. And as for Alfons... I suppose you will be something like a ‘smoke screen.’

(A ‘smoke screen’...? What does that mean?)

(Maybe if I know what their abilities are, his words will make more sense.)

Making a sound as I thought, William looked at me.

William: Now, this night will mark the anniversary of your first mission as the ‘fairytale keeper.’

W: Before we start, do you have anything you would like to ask?

Kate: ...Then, can I ask what Roger and Alfons’ Curses and abilities are?

William: Indeed. I believe it is better that the people in question answer though.

Roger turned to look at me, and he answered in a light tone.

Roger: My Curse is the ‘Betraying Hunter.’ I can hear sounds from up to a hundred yards away.

(D-did he just say a hundred yards!? That must mean his hearing is really good... and that must be why he was assigned to patrol the perimeter.)

Kate: Thank you. And Alfons...?

Alfons: It’s. A. Se. Cret.

A: Hehe, what a waste it would be to tell you what my ability is in a trivial situation such as this, no?

[1] You can keep it that way even then. (+4 / +4)

[2] Why put on the air...

[3] You’re pretty mean.

Kate: ...Actually, you can keep it that way even then.

Alfons: Hehe, you need not sulk on it too much, alright? I assure you that you will come to know in the best timing possible, sometime.

William: Well then, if there are no other questions on your mind, let us start.

While saying ‘it is time for the mission,’ red eyes looked up at the dark night sky.

—— Time skip ——

William: Here we are.

The place we arrived at——was an orphanage.

(It looks like a normal orphanage...)

In London, orphanages were not a particularly uncommon sight.

That went especially for the more impoverished parts of the city, where people were pushed to the edge of the city with a swelling population.

But the problem was not the orphanage itself, but what was going on within its walls.

According to what I heard before...

...allegedly, a literal massacre is taking place here.

(But... for that to happen at such a place?)

I wished it was all a lie, but the scene from last night seemed to glimmer from the back of my eyes...

Holding my breath, I followed after them.

And there, the first thing I saw was——

Kate: ...What...is this...?

William: This would be the reason why we have come here.

Before my eyes was something that looked like a black mountain.

Then, I realized the things that were piled atop one another were actually human bodies,

fear ran through my body, and a feeling of revulsion welled from the bottom of my stomach.

Kate: Ugh...

I felt a convulsion inside my stomach, and my vision started to waver.

This was, without a doubt, a vast amount of children’s corpses.

(This is just cruel... why would they do such a thing...)

Unable to look directly at the sight before my eyes, I covered my mouth with my hand and turned away.

But, even so, the rotten smell hit me with the harsh reality.

Alfons: Now, now, I imagine this should hardly be a shocking sight to behold, given that reality is always naught but a tragedy.

(Eh...?)

Kate: Al...fons...?

While holding my head, which was throbbing in pain, I looked up.

And when I did, something warm suddenly touched the back of my neck.

Alfons: ——All of what you are seeing is a mere dream. A most sweet and comforting dream, that is.

When I heard those words... my thoughts were suddenly hit with a sense of drowsiness...

Roger: ...Whoops.

Roger supported Kate’s body, which had collapsed, with one hand,

before shooting a glance at Alfons with a raised brow.

Roger: Hey now, don’t go stealing away her job like that.

R: She’s to look at our sins with her own eyes and record it. That was the condition to set her free, right?

Alfons: Why, but she does have a sin to record, no? She may simply write my sin of ‘interfering with her job’ and be done with it, I do so imagine.

A: After all, the sins she should be writing about are those of the ‘Cursed ones,’

A: rather than the sins that riddle London’s darkness as a whole.

William: Ahaha, you do make a good point.

W: I do, however, find it a shame that she will be unable to witness my sins here.

At that moment... in the dark basement, a new pair of footsteps could be heard.

Red-faced man: Who the hell are you guys—!?

Apparently, the head of the orphanage had sensed something amiss, and came running.

William: Do not move.

Before the man could even widen his eyes, he was given an absolute command.

William: We apologize for intruding so late at night. But there is no need to worry.

W: If you answer two or three questions for us, I will put you to sleep quickly. You have my word.

W: Now, answer my questions with honesty.

Head of the orphanage: E-eek...

—— Crown Castle ——

Kate: ...nn...hm...? Where am I—

As I dazedly looked around the surroundings I wasn’t familiar with, I remembered that this was the room Victor had prepared for me.

(Wait, when... did we return...?)

(——No, wait, when did I go out...and what did I do?)

I saw a comforting dream, but in an attempt to remember what happened before that, I pressed my hand on my forehead.

(That’s right, I was on a mission... it was my first time too... and then,)

(there was a mountain... it was black... it was a mass...)

Kate: ...!

The memories came back to me suddenly, and I jumped awake.

(Did I lose consciousness after I saw that...?)

Getting off the bed, I walked to the mirror with shaky footing.

(I don’t see any wounds on my body. ...Maybe someone saved me before I collapsed?)

Kate: What ended up happening after that...?

Maybe William had passed ‘judgment’ onto the person responsible for that terrible scene.

Just imagining it made my stomach churn, and I put a hand over my mouth.

(I have to record that? For a whole month?)

Thinking about it was enough to make me feel dizzy, and I plopped back down on the bed, when...

I heard a knock, and the door opened without waiting for a response.

Alfons: Good evening to you.

Alfons came into the room, his expression one of pity.

Alfons: Aww, to see you so pale, are you alright?

Kate: Alfons... yes, I’m al—

I was about to say ‘right,’ when I remembered something then and there.

(Wait, no... first things first, I need to apologize!)

(I don’t know what they’d do if they deem me unworthy of being fairytale keeper...)

Kate: I’m so sorry... I lost consciousness in the middle of a mission...!

K: I promise next time will be fine. I’ll perform my duties as fairytale keeper to the fullest.

When I bowed my head, a sonorous laughter rang in the room.

Alfons: Ahha! What an utterly earnest disposition you wear.

A: Such worthless things could obviously never warrant my coming here.

A: I was thinking you would be awake right about now, and I was worried. So, here I am.

Alfons walked toward me, step by step——

and I found myself trapped in his arms, with his face close enough that our lips might touch.

Kate: You were worried...?

Alfons: Indeed. It would be stranger if I was not, no?

His fingers slipped toward the back of my neck...

Alfons: After all——you are my lover.

Kate: Eh...

The moment his murmurs fell upon my ears, something in my mind warped.

(——Ahh, that’s right.)

(Alfons is... my...)

(He is the one and only person I can let my guard down around.)

(And my partner... who I can give my heart to...)

Alfons seemed to find his way in, filling the place in my heart where something seemed to be left out,

and my heart gradually melted from the inside.

Alfons: There is no need to show a brave face in front of me, Kate.

Kate: ...mn...

Gently caressing me, the thread of nervousness, which had been stretched to the brink, snapped just like that, and my vision was blurred by tears.

Kate: Alfons... I...

Alfons: Come now, it’s alright to cry. You don’t need to hold it in.

His gentle lips caught my tears, and that warmth found its way to my lips.

Kate: Mn...

(Why... is my heart racing so much?)

Since we were lovers, sharing a kiss was something that was supposed to be normal between us.

But my heart was pounding in my chest as though this was the first time.

(But, as much as my heart is racing like this, being touched by Alfons makes me feel at ease...)

Fear and confusion——the sweet pleasure his lips gave me slowly wiped those feelings away.

And showering kisses on me, Alfons continued to stroke the back of my neck.

Alfons: Now, let go of aaall that which scares you... how about we indulge ourselves in pleasure?

to be continued…

Act 1 • The miscreant illusion

← prev next →

NOTES:

[1] the original lines are [鏡よ鏡、都合のいい夢を見せないで] (kagami yo kagami, tsugō no ī yume wo misenaide) / [たとえ、悲しいことばかりの現実だとしても] (tatoe kanashī koto bakari no genjitsu da to shite mo) / [あなたの真実を教えて] (anata no shinjitsu wo oshiete) / [この愛がーー幻になる前に] (kono ai ga maboroshi ni naru mae ni). This literally translates to: “mirror, oh mirror, don’t show me a convenient dream. / even if this reality is filled with sad things, / tell me your truth. / before this love becomes an illusion.”

[2] from Wikipedia: Soho is an area of the City of Westminster and part of the West End of London. Long established as an entertainment district, for much of the 20th century Soho had a reputation for sex shops as well as night life and film industry.

[3] Alfons says [貴女で遊べる] (anata de asoberu) here. He uses the particle で (de) to mark 貴女 (anata), which basically implies that he is “using you” (as a “tool” or “means”) to be able to play (遊ぶ asobu → 遊べる asoberu, the potential form). So he is literally saying he can “play with you” in the same way one could say “play with a toy,” but due to the ambiguity of the preposition in saying “play with you,” I opted to just say plaything instead. Just know he is a bit more... subtle in actuality.

masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment or dm to be added or removed!

[jaskicr]

geraskier childhood friends au with fae jaskier

summary:

Geralt had a best friend, once. Julian had been the first person to choose Geralt - he’d been Geralt’s first friend, his first love, but Geralt had hurt him unforgivably.

Now, when Jaskier chatters at him, smiling at him without a hint of fear in his scent, Geralt tries not to think about how Jaskier reminds him too much of Julian. They have the same crooked smile, the same ringing laugh, and they both touch Geralt in the same way, gentle and caring.

But then comes the dragon hunt - and Geralt hates that he always does this. When people care about him, and when he cares about them in return, he inevitably pushes them away. Julian and Jaskier had both chosen him, but all Geralt ever does is hurt. When will he learn that destruction is all that he’s capable of?

Or: Geralt and Jaskier meet in a forest near Kaer Morhen when they’re children. They grow up together as best friends, then as lovers, but when Geralt leaves for the Path, it tears them apart.

Decades later, in a tavern in Posada, they find each other again.

----

When he finally walks back up to Kaer Morhen, steps slow and laboured, Geralt doesn’t think he’s ever felt so heavy, his grief and guilt weighing down every step. After enduring Geralt pushing him away twice, Jaskier has finally decided to step back from their friendship, has finally decided to leave, and it hurts, even though Geralt knows that he deserves it.

Jaskier’s farewell is an ache deep in his bones, an empty hollow in his heart, and it’s horrible, and Geralt can’t lose him. The memory of Jaskier’s sad eyes as he bids Geralt a final farewell lingers in Geralt’s mind, sends waves of utter devastation coursing through him, and Geralt can’t lose him.

He can’t live without Jaskier, not again, and he can’t bear the thought of never seeing Jaskier again, never seeing his bright smile and his kind eyes, never hearing his musical voice and his joyous laughter, never feeling his gentle touches and warm embraces. Jaskier is his best friend, his everything, and Geralt needs him, and he resolves to do anything and everything to prove to Jaskier that he means it, that he wants their friendship back and won’t hurt him ever again.

He’d lost Jaskier twice, both times due to his own stupidity and foolishness. He won’t let that happen a third time. 

As Geralt lays in his bed that night, replaying the memory of Jaskier’s farewell over and over, a plan grows in his mind. Jaskier won’t seek him out, not after how they’d parted, but Jaskier has always known whenever Geralt shows up in the clearing, or even in the forest. If Jaskier is somehow aware of his presence, maybe… maybe Geralt can prove his dedication if he stays there. It’s not much, certainly not as grand of a gesture as Geralt would like, but it’s the only thing he can do if Jaskier stays away.

He’s desperate to do anything, anything, that would give him a chance of getting Jaskier back, and he has no idea what he’s going to do beyond staying in the clearing, but it’s something. 

The next morning, Geralt greets his brothers, who are readying themselves to head back out onto the Path, as he walks over to Vesemir.

“I, uh, I think I’m going to stay here for a while this year,” Geralt says sheepishly.

Vesemir gives him a strange look. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to head back out on the Path just yet,” Geralt explains, wringing his hands. “I think… I want to rest for some time.”

It's not the reason why he’s staying, but Vesemir seems to buy it, his face softening, and he pats Geralt on the shoulder. “Well, feel free to stay as long as you’d like. I know you’ve been through a lot, and you deserve a break.”

“I’ll be back on the Path once I can,” Geralt promises. He’ll stay for as long as it takes.

“Of course,” Vesemir agrees, and sends him a small smile. “Just don’t wreck the keep. I’ll put you through extra training next winter if you ruin anything.”

Geralt chuckles softly. “I won’t, Vesemir. Thank you.”

“Take care of yourself,” Vesemir responds, heading over to where Lambert and Eskel are fiddling with their packs.

Geralt bids farewell to his family, watching as they disappear down the trail before he heads back into his room. He packs his belongings, bringing things that he normally wouldn’t take on the Path, things like a warm blanket and a thicker, more comfortable bedroll. Jaskier’s key is tucked under his clothes, and he wraps his fingers around it and pulls it out, displaying it proudly on his chest for everyone to see.

He heads to the stables and slings his pack on Roach, who bumps her head against him, and Geralt smiles sadly. She’d been irritable ever since he’d left Jaskier on that mountain, likely missing Jaskier’s quiet affection and the sugar cubes he would sneak to her while Geralt would pretend not to know. 

“You miss him too, huh?” he murmurs, stroking her mane, and she bucks against his hand. “Well, let’s go get him back, shall we?”

He leads Roach into the forest, through familiar trees until he emerges in the clearing. It’s empty, devoid of light and laughter without Jaskier’s presence, and it’s wrong - it’s not supposed to be so hollow, so bleak. 

Geralt resolves to change that.

He clears a spot on the ground, setting up a small camp. He’ll be here for a while.

link to read more on ao3 in reblog!

[echoghost1]

Dannymay 2021 Day 10: Shadow

The Brighter The Light, The Bigger the Shadow

Summary: It's been a month since the accident and Danny still doesn't have any control. Or anyone on his side.

Word Count: 2077

And today's fic is brought to you by the age-old "ask and you shall receive" except I can't promise that it will arrive in a timely manner.

This is part 2 to the fic I did for Phic Phight called, What You Fear The Most

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut as per usual!

also going to tag a few people because they reblogged the last one and really enjoyed it: @blueoatmeal, @another-shameless-fangirl, @ilikepensandships

Danny’s locker was stuck. Again.

He sighed and let the lock drop from his hand as he rested his forehead against the cool metal. This is not what he needed right now.

It had been almost a month since his accident and he still wasn’t in control. He wasn’t sure how he had been able to slip under the radar at home for so long. It kept him up at night knowing that eventually, they were going to catch him. They were going to find out that he was a monster.

He was terrified of what that would mean.

But he didn’t want to think about that here. Not while he was at school. He had enough to deal with here and thinking about how he had accidentally turned himself into a monster some of the time wasn’t something he needed right now.

He took a breath to center himself and then stood up fully so he could try again.

Just after he heard the satisfying click of his combination unlocking, he was shoved face-first into his locker.

“Oops, I tripped,” Dash mocked, only proving that he had done it on purpose.

Danny turned his head so he could both breathe and talk. He was thankful that the push hadn’t broken his nose, “You okay?” Danny asked with no hint of actually caring.

“Yeah, I had a dork to catch my fall.�� Dash was cackling in amusement before he even finished the sentence and his fellow footballers were just as amused.

“Lovely.” Danny deadpanned as he tried not to think about how a guy twice his size was crushing the air out of his lungs and absolutely no one seemed to notice. “You mind getting off?”

“Aw, what’s the matter, Fen-total-waste-of-space? Can’t handle a little weight?”

“I think you’re more than a little weight, bricks for brains!”

Dash pulled back and spun Dany around fast enough for him to get a little dizzy, “What the hell did you call me you little jerk!?” Dash screamed as he lifted Danny up by his shirt and slammed him against his locker again.

“Did I say that out loud?” he honestly hadn’t meant to, but then again it felt kind of nice to be able to fight back. Even if it was just with words.

He meant to sound apologetic, or even honestly surprised by his slip-up. Turns out grinning was the wrong facial expression to have.

“You think this is funny? Well here’s a new joke for you,” Dash started as he pulled Danny off of his locker, opened it up, and shoved Danny inside.

When Danny saw Dash’s grip on the door he knew he had to pull his legs in or risk them getting crushed. He pulled them in as close to his body as he could just as Dash slammed the locker down shut.

“Good luck talking your way out of that one you freak.” Dash sneered before punching the locker once before he walked away with this friends.

They all just laughed.

None of them stayed behind to help.

He wanted out. Needed to get out.

Dash had no idea how right he was about how freakish Danny was.

The space in the locker grew darker. Too dark.

He glared at the darkened door before him, the otherworldly green light was all he had to illuminate the impossibly dark space.

The hallway was quiet so he figured it didn’t matter now. It was too late anyway.

His nightmare form had been unleashed; he might as well use it to free himself.

He burst from his locker with a primal scream. His claws hit the floor first as his tail slid out like a snake behind him. The door clattered to the floor beside him, his books and papers scattered out around him, but he didn’t care. He was too angry to care.

There was a gasp behind him.

He whipped around and saw his friends. When did they get there? How much had they seen?

He slowly stood up, or floated upward, to his full height. He was usually the shortest in their group, but he towered over them now.

His elongated body of shadows was almost tall enough to touch the ceiling. He could touch the ceiling if he just reached up for it. It wouldn’t take much effort at all.

That was way too tall. No person should be that tall.

But he wasn’t a person right now, was he?

“Where’s Danny?” Tucker asked in almost a whisper.

They didn’t recognize him? Was that a good thing?

He looked back to the locker, his neck snapping loudly as he had turned his head too fast. He huffed in annoyance, because of course he couldn’t do anything without being pure nightmare fuel.

He turned back to his friends, slowly this time as to not repeat the same mistake.

They still looked horrified.

Was he moving too slow now?

He wondered if maybe it was the height? He was clearly too tall. Nobody liked being towered over. But he didn’t know how to not be tall.

He shrank down on himself. Got low to the floor and hoped that they would understand that he wasn’t going to hurt them.

Maybe he should just leave?

He started to back up, he peeked behind himself to gauge where the janitor’s closet was. He knew there was one nearby.

Found it!

He skittered backward as fast as he could. Too fast.

He ended up crawling backward up the door and halfway up the ceiling.

He stopped, opened the door, and slipped inside using his tail to close the door behind himself.

Sure, shutting himself inside the closet wasn’t much better than his locker, but it was at least a little roomier. He didn’t bother going for the light even if it was within his reach.

The last time he turned on a light in this form, the lightbulbs exploded. He really didn’t want to clean up a bunch of glass again.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm back down. If he could calm down he would shift back.

At least that was his theory anyway. He still had no idea how this whole thing worked.

He felt his tail wrap around himself. It was long enough at it coiled around him more than once and the tip rested on his shoulder. He tried not to think about this form seemed to favor the tail instead of legs. Then again, in this instance, the prehensile tail made more sense than long spindly legs. It didn’t make it any less weird though.

He was so focused on himself that he didn’t notice that the door had opened.

Sam stood there, staring down at him. “Danny?”

He opened his mouth to answer her, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. To acknowledge that she was right? To deny it?

It didn’t matter. All that came out was indistinguishable static and moans.

He snapped his mouth shut, his hands clamping over it. He didn’t want them to see him like this. He didn’t want to be like this.

Why couldn’t he just be normal? Why didn’t he just die in the portal?

She pulled him into a hug and all his thoughts just stopped.

“It’s okay! You’re okay,” she hugged him tighter but it didn’t stop him from slipping his arms out from between them and hugging her back.

“It’s not okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he cried his apologies into her shoulder.

She leaned back and held his face in her hands, “Why are you sorry Danny?”

He pulled away from her. He knew he had changed back, but he could still feel all that darkness just under his skin, it danced on the edges of his being, eager to come forth again. “Because I never wanted you to see me like that.” He pulled his hoodie sleeves up and over his fingers so the oversized fabric engulfed his hands completely, “I scared you.”

“Don’t be silly Danny,” Sam smiled as she reached out and touched his balled-up sleeve-covered hand, “you didn’t scare us.”

“Speak for yourself.” Tucker scoffed from his spot lingering on the edge of the doorway.

Sam snapped her attention back to Tucker, “Not helping!”

“At least he’s being honest,” Danny muttered.

She looked back at him with a slightly less annoyed glare, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He hadn’t meant for her to hear that, but given how close she was, he really should have expected it. He pulled his hand away from her and used both arms to hug his stomach, “Because I know I scared you both. I can tell.”

“How do you know?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I’m afraid I’d scare you more if I told you.”

“Well that certainly wasn’t ominous,” Tucker quipped nervously as he bounced on the balls of his feet. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but right where he was.

Danny didn’t blame him for wanting to run away. It hurt, but he understood.

“If you want to go, it’s okay. I get it if you don’t want to be friends anymore.”

“Whoa there,” Tucker dropped to his knees and shuffled in closer so he could also place a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “No one said anything about not being friends. Sure I’m scared, we all are. That includes you, Dude. I’m not going to leave you alone just because you can get spooky sometimes.”

“Get Spooky?” Danny deadpanned.

“Well, what do you call it?” Tucker shrugged as he best defense.

Danny looked down and pulled his knees closer to his chest, “I don’t really call it anything.” he wrapped his arms around his legs so he could pull them even closer, “I try not to think about it.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together,” Sam said as she placed her hand on his knee again.

Danny didn’t know where she got all that confidence from. She was still scared. He could tell even in this form.

“So, I’m probably going to hate myself for asking, but,” Tucker took a breath then sat down fully, one knee tapping against the floor while the other stayed perpendicular to his body. “How did you know Sam was scared?”

Danny looked from Tucker’s nervous curiosity to Sam’s steely resolve. He bit his lip but couldn’t think of a reason not to tell them. They’d seen him at his worst and they didn’t run away.

“I can,” gosh he really hoped that this wouldn’t be the thing to push them away, “ I can smell it?”

“What does it smell like?”

“Red.”

“Red what?” Tucker asked.

“The color.”

“The color?” he repeated sounding even more confused than when he had asked his initial question.

“Yeah.”

“You smell emotions in colors?” he asked to clarify.

Danny sat up and threw his hands out for emphasis, “Look my senses have been really weird since the accident. I think all that electricity scrambled my brains or something.”

His friends just shared a look so he continued.

“Ghost stuff feels like flavors to me now. Like the portal, it felt sour. That might just be all ectoplasm though, or at least the raw stuff anyway. Oh and sometimes,” he paused mostly because his brain was going so fast and he still hadn’t found all the words to explain what he had been going through in the last several weeks. Plus this was the first time he was saying any of this out loud. “Sometimes I have trouble holding or touching things. Like I’m not really there. And when that happens my body or just parts of it, feel spicy? But if spicy was cold instead of hot.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

Danny slumped back against the shelving unit behind him. He knew it was weird but he didn’t know how else to describe it.

“Actually I think I know.” sam said slowly as she nodded to herself.

“You do?” the boys both asked with slight variations of confusion. Tucker’s was more towards disbelief, while Danny was a little more hopeful.

“It’s like he’s trying to translate it, but there are no words for it. Not in English anyway.”

Before Danny could ask what she meant the bell rang.

“Oh gosh I exploded my locker all over the hall and we’re going to be late for class!” Danny scrambled out of the closet and passed his friends.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Eye of the Storm 🌩️ Epilogue

Warnings: nonconsensual sex (series)

This is dark!Thor and dark!Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: A small epilogue to stir your imaginations :D

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Heimdall rarely went to Thor. Usually, the king would appear in his lookout and sit with him and talk. But the watcher had seen his distress; some of it at least as much of his vision had been obscured by flashes of bright blue light. It wasn’t often he was in the dark.

His blind spot quickly cleared as he found his king upon his carpet, bloodied and blithering. Ancient curses rolled off his tongue as he sat against the broken bed frame, his palms mapped with blood. Alone. His hammer was gone. Heimdall felt the absence of the sacred weapon.

He pulled up the armchair and sat before Thor. The king’s eyes sparked with anger as his lips continued to move in whispered obscenities. Heimdall leaned forward and sighed.

“Your majesty.” He said carefully. “Should I send for a healer?”

“I am fine.” He growled as he bit down and tenderly touched his jaw. “The maid…”

“Which one? There is a girl weeping in the laundries now, her dress askew as she blubbers.” Heimdall said. “Or the other? The one I cannot see?”

Thor’s eyes focused and his brows drew together. He searched Heimdall’s face then dropped his head back against the wooden frame. He closed his eyes and bent his legs. Never shy of his nudity, he barely seemed it.

“Look again.” Thor snarled.

Heimdall sat back but the void remained in his mind. The girl was gone. Mjolnir too.

“You know that is not how it works.” Heimdall said.

“You are to be my eyes. To seek out my enemies and to watch my back and yet you fail me when I have been betrayed by all around me.” Thor’s eyes snapped open and he glared at the seer. “You are as good as all of them.”

The king got to his feet, slowly, unsteadily. He shook his head and wavered as he caught himself on the stump of the bedpost. He groaned and leaned heavily on the wood. He ambled to the window and took a deep breath and swayed once more.

“If you cannot find the bitch, where is my brother?”

“Ah, yes, his charm has worn off or rather he has let it fall. The prince does not seem so worried now about you finding him.” Heimdall rose and strode around the room. Shadows of fear, of anger, lingered in the air. “He is in Ormheim.”

“Ormheim?” The king snarled. “Did I not just put that rabid hound down?”

“He is not the only visitor.” Heimdall continued reluctantly. “The queen, Calla, is with him. Her father’s guard has accompanied her there to meet with several other lords.”

“They conspire against me.” Thor uttered. “I shall put them all in the ground. Loki not excepted.” Thor slammed his fist down and grunted. “My own brother. My wife.” He spun and barely kept on his feet. “Tell me, have they betrayed me in all manners?”

“As your brother’s tendencies lean, he has… not shied away from it.” Heimdall replied.

Thor huffed and crossed the chamber. He took the pitcher of warm ale and gulped deeply and snorted back the dried blood in his nose.

“Look for the maid again.”

“I cannot find her,” Heimdall stated. “Not right now but my king, she cannot hide forever. You must only allow me the time.”

“Time!” Thor slammed the pitcher down. “Well, I suppose I’ve a war to fight first.”

“Your army is ready. I’ve sent the signal already. Not all the lords are against you.” Heimdall assured. “And you have many more friends than your brother and much fewer enemies.”

Thor pressed his lips together and slowly smiled. He nodded. “I suppose you’re right. I trust I shall have enough men left after all this nonsense to seek out my errant pet.”

🌩️

A loud thump and a sudden rush of wind radiated from your body. You laid in the field, the tall grass around you was flattened. You coughed and your fingers slipped from the hammer. You sat up and looked around. You had no idea where you were. If you were fortunate, you were far from Asgard.

You pushed yourself up to your feet and stretched your fingers. The hammer flew up into your hand and you sighed as you clutched it. You raised it and turned it slowly, examining the sharp edges, symbols etched around it. You dropped your shoulders and let the hammer hang from your grasp.

You turned to the sun, this one not so bright as that in Asgard. You set out across the field, the legs of the breeches dragging in the grass. The sun was already low here, the night would be upon you in little more than an hour. You did not know which beast languished in this land and even with Mjolnir in your hand you weren’t sure you could face it.

You reached a road. It was paved in a hot black molding with yellow lines along the middle. There was a large house just along it and a silo not far from that. Fields of corn and tall wheat and another building on the horizon. You followed the road along and kept to the dirt as the paving burned your soles.

You stepped back as you heard the breaking of wind and you turned as a peculiar vehicle approached. You watched and slipped down into the grass, ducking behind the stalks. The odd contraption stopped. Thor had his ships but for the most part, horses were preferred in Asgard.

You watched as the door opened and a man stepped out. He looked normal enough. Tidy blonde hair and a plain black jacket over a rather thin shirt. His pants were of an odd dyed fabric and he gripped a small rectangle in his hand. He peered around and frowned.

“I know you’re here.” He said to the air. “I saw you as I drove up.”

You stayed still and silent.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He called. “You lost?”

Mjolnir twitched in your hand and you looked down at it. You shook your head. You could deal with one person. You stepped out slowly and raised the hammer.

“Lost but not afraid.” You declared. “Whatever, whoever you are, I doubt you could withstand one hit.”

He blinked and looked at the hammer. His brows drew together and he gave a curious grimace. He raised his hands and backed away.

“I wouldn’t want that, no.” He assured. “Looks like a heavy hammer.”

“Very.” You promised as you lowered it slightly.

“Like I said, I’m not going to hurt you.” He said and his eyes peeked at the hammer again. Was he scared? “It’s gonna be sundown soon and you shouldn’t be out here in the dark.”

You doubled over as your stomach churned suddenly. You bent over and wretched into the pebbles alongside the road. You wiped your mouth and stood as you breathed heavily.

“You sick?” He asked.

“No,” You dropped your hand. “With child.”

“Pregnant?” He blinked and nodded. “Well, I’m not gonna force your hand but I can put you up for the night then you can decide where you’re going in the morning.”

“I don’t even know where I am,” You said.

“Then you can figure that out too.” He offered. “Seeing as you got that,” He looked at the hammer. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

You considered him and turned Mjolnir in your hand. You chewed the inside of your lip. You stepped forward and lifted the hammer to rest against his chest.

“I’ll still be watching.” You warned. “Doubt the men around here are any different then those I’ve known.”

“Fair enough,” He stepped back and poked his finger along the rectangular device in his hand. He raised it to his ear as he kept his eyes on you. “Fury, no. Just shrapnel. Yeah, that’s it.”

He tapped the device again and tucked it into his jacket. He went to his vehicle and opened the door closest to you.

“Maybe we can find something that fits you better too,” He said as you slowly neared and your fingers tightened around the leather-bound handle. “Think we’ll start with food and a bed though. How does that sound?”

You arched a bow and carefully lowered yourself into the vehicle. You peered up at him and raised your chin.

“It should do for the night…”

“Steve.” He finished. “My name is Steve.”

You rested the hammer in your lap and lowered your eyes. Do not let him see the mouse you once were. You sniffed as you looked at him again and gave him your name. He repeated it and smiled. He closed the door and rounded to the other side.

“You sound like someone I once knew,” He mused as he took out a key and shoved it behind the wheel in front of him. He peeked over at the hammer and his blue eyes narrowed. “I think it’s the accent.”

END

[the-hidden-writer]

And Into The Fire

Chapter 12: A Definitely-Not-Plan

Summary: Months after the Mitchells saved the world, Linda gets a phone call asking if she’s seen two defective Pal MAX bots. Powerful people are after Eric and Deborabot 5000, and it’s up to the Mitchells to protect them.

Taglist: @squidsushi , @astro-aye , @shitmyex, @sharks-are-friendly, @snakeguy99

Check reblogs for AO3 link!

A Definitely-Not-Plan

One of the worst parts of being a parent, Linda thought, was having to wake up your children when they were sound asleep with peace written all over their faces. As their original plan of spending the night at the campsite was discarded without warning, Aaron fell asleep very quickly into their high-speed journey to Silicon Valley. Even Rick (who had been adamant that he would stay awake) began to snore after an hour or so.

She hadn’t minded. She would much rather her boys be well-rested for whatever they were about to face.

While driving, it felt like the journey was taking forever. But now that they’d arrived it felt like it had taken no time at all. They weren’t too far from the massive Pal Labs facility that looked very menacing as it loomed in the near-distance.

They’d arrived at their destination. And she had no idea where to go from here. Unless they simply charged into the building…

Doing her best to brush all illegal-sounding thoughts from her mind, Linda continued to gently shove her son awake.

“Aaron, sweetie, we’re here.”

“Mmm not yet, Mom...”

She briefly considered leaving Aaron in the car to let him sleep. Which, although it may keep him safe, could also result in him being in a whole different danger that was out of their control. She’d rather keep him close.

“Rise and shine, son.” Rick said, purposefully speaking in a louder tone which caused Aaron to wince and squeeze his eyelids shut tighter. “We need to rescue the bots.”

That caused Aaron to stir a little. “But it’s still dark.”

It was true, dawn was only just beginning to break and soon they would lose the cover of darkness. But at least there was a chance, as small as it may be, that fewer people would be there due to it being the middle of the night.

However, Linda doubted it. Especially if both of the bots were inside.

“So what’s the plan, Lin?” Rick asked her once Aaron began to sleepily climb out of the car.

Shoot. She’d promised to have thought up a plan by the time they’d arrived in exchange for letting her drive the car. And in her defence she had tried, but without knowing what the situation was going to be like she couldn’t think of anything apart from…

“We storm in there and demand that they give them back.”

The hesitance on Rick’s face was totally justified. “Uhh, are you sure? No offence but that sounds like a pretty dumb plan, dear.”

“Got any better ideas?” She quipped back. And although it sounded sarcastic, the question was completely genuine.

“Why don’t you just pay for the bots?” Aaron supplied, shutting the car door in a way that sounded far too loud for the serenity of the night around them. “Just buy them off Pal Labs then they’ll leave us alone.”

“Aar, that’s a great idea!” Rick exclaimed in a hushed voice. “We may be completely broke afterwards, but it is a good idea.”

“Yeah…”

Linda had to admit that the idea was smart and even had a better chance of working than her plan. But there was something about the notion of having to buy her sons back that didn’t sit well with her. To treat them as collectable items, as inhuman as they were, went against all of her instincts.

(Her… sons? The bots. Her boys. Her… sons.)

“Let’s keep that as a last resort.”

“Yeah, that’s a better idea.” Rick agreed. “I’d like to save my money if possible, 'specially since I’m not working at the moment.”

She smiled at her small victory. Now came the hard part. “So… shall we go?”

“What, we just drive right up to them and walk in?” Rick frowned. “We really don’t have a better plan?”

“We never have a plan.” Aaron added from below them. “But we always win in the end, don’t we?”

Linda bit back a comment about how last time was nothing but pure luck. She also admired her son’s optimism and tried to let some of it sink in to calm her own nerves.

“You’re right.” She said, bending down to kiss Aaron’s forehead. “We’ll get them back.”

Even if it meant having to tear the whole building to the ground.

~-.-~

“I don’t understand.” Muttered Katie. “So you were trying to decommission them?”

“That’s what I thought they were trying to do.” Mark replied. “That’s what I was trying to do, but apparently that wasn’t the plan. They want one disassembled and one online for some reason.”

With Agent Ward busy elsewhere and due to the lack of agents/employees at this time of night, nobody was able to supervise the two as they sat in the locked office. It gave them an ample opportunity to have a private chat.

And it also allowed Katie to gather as much information about what the hell was going on here.

“Right… but why?”

Mark shrugged. “Beats me. Unless they want to build their own robot army-”

He paused abruptly- a look of horror growing on his face.

“Oh my god they wanna build a robot army.”

Katie wasn’t even surprised. Of course that was what they were planning, what else could it be? The robots had already proved their worth at being able to take over the world, just imagine what they would be able to do if they were utilized by the government of any country, let alone the United States.

“...Are you sure you can put him back together?” She asked quietly.

Mark Bowman blinked. “What?”

“Eri- uh, that Pal MAX bot in the lab.”

He furrowed his brows. “I’m pretty sure. I specifically told them not to break anything when taking it apart, whether they listened or not is out of my hands.”

“Right.”

They fell into silence for a few moments. Mark was sitting in his wheelie chair while Katie sat on the computer desk at the side of the room. It was surprisingly comfortable.

It was Mark that was the first to speak up again.

“You called it Eric.”

Katie hung her head. It sounded a lot more like an accusation than a comment. “Yeah… I did.”

“Why?” Mark Bowman continued. “Because the Evil Warden can’t be right, you and your family aren’t actually-”

“Working with them?” Katie finished. “I mean yeah, if adopting them counts.”

She knew it was probably a bad idea to tell him the truth, but she really needed an ally in this place, and since Mark Bowman seemed to be a prisoner in his own facility he was the best (and only) person for the job.

It took a few seconds for the implications to sink in.

“...You what? Adopted them?”

“Yeah.” Said Katie nonchalantly. “They helped us save the world, actually. A dinosaur fell on them and they turned defective and told us how to stop Pal. We literally couldn't have done it without them.”

The expression on Mark Bowman’s face was priceless.

“It's a long story. And then when all the other robots switched off, they had nowhere to go so we took them in.”

Mark looked stunned. “So you use them like normal? Get them to cook and clean and stuff?”

“God, no!” Katie cried. “They’re a part of the family! They’re practically children and they have their own personalities and everything. They gave themselves the names ‘Eric’ and ‘Deborahbot 5000’.”

“...And ‘Eric’ is chopped up on a table in Lab 5.”

Katie sighed, the memory of what she’d seen flashing through her mind. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“Well that makes a lot more sense.” Said Mark. “I still think turning them off is the best option though. They may seem nice, but they’re dangerous-”

“No they’re not! They’re absolutely harmless! Deborahbot practically started crying when he stood on a beetle by accident!”

Mark scoffed, but at least he didn’t argue.

“We all love them.” She added. “We just want them back. And I’m pretty sure the whole world is safer if they’re with my family instead of the CIA.”

Mark seemed to contemplate this for a few moments. “I mean…”

All of a sudden, the computer behind Katie began to flash red, causing her to jump straight off and Mark to leap onto his feet.

“What’s that?!” Questioned Katie, pointing at the screen that was flashing the words: CODE #15.

“That’s the alarm.” Said Mark worriedly, rushing to the computer. “Someone’s broken in.”

Comments make my day! :)

[missdawnandherdusk]

Country Girl

Muggle!Reader X Draco 

London Boy

Summary: Draco has your heart and you have his, a muggle and a wizard, but what happens when you take him home... to America, to your very muggle parents, and your very muggle small town? 

A/n: As promised here is some ridiculous fluff and shenanigans between these two dorks. Also, this gets very southern very quickly, so as a disclaimer: none of this is meant to offend anyone at all, it’s just simple writing fun. I know a lot of you come to Tumblr to destress from the news, so this is free from current events and can even be seen written around circa 2010 if you want. I love you all and let me know what you think because I love being validated your comments and reblogs

“Um, do you maybe want to come with me back home?” The question was timid as it left my lips.

“To America?” He raised an eyebrow looking up from his workstation where he was currently brewing Amorentia—not that he used it, but it brought comfort to me and worked surpassingly well in a diffuser.

“To put it broadly, yes.” I smiled, knowing he had no idea how expansive America really was. “I’m off for the summer and my parents have been nagging me nonstop to meet you, and well it’s home,” Shrugging I hopped up on his desk and he eyed me warily, moving some things out of my way.

“How long?”

“Well I suppose you could apparate back any time you like, but...”

“How long?” He pressed again.

“A week?” I was almost afraid of his reaction.

Not that I was afraid of him, but I knew him well. He liked order. He like routine. Everything had a place and he preferred it if it stayed in that place. Which included him, in London.

“I understand if you don’t want to. I know it’s a lot. Muggle parents, Muggle girlfriend, America...” I trailed off looking down. “Just thought I’d offer.”

“Love,” he tilted my chin up. “If you want me to go with you to meet your parents, I suppose I can manage a week,” he smiled.

Happiness fluttered in my chest as I threw my arms around him.

“Careful dear,” he scolded, easily pulling me into his arms, carrying me. “This stuff takes forever to wear off and I’d rather not have you drugged for the next few hours.”

“Could be fun,” I giggled, nuzzling into his neck.

“You say that now,” he chided, a smile evident on his face. 

_____________________________

“Now, they don’t know that you’re a wiz,” You reminded him. “And I’d rather not have to obliviate my parents, so if you could— “

“You act like I’m a teenager Y/n, I’m not stupid,” Draco rolled his eyes. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. A challenge.

“And, a very fair warning: I am very...posh compared to my parents,”

Draco laughed; the word so unfamiliar to your lips and your American accent. Nor could he imagine in any way that someone would regard you as posh. He loved you, of course, but a lady was something you were not—not that he didn’t treat you like one, but that was beside the point.

But nothing you said could ever prepare him for what waited at your doorstep. Not the hours on a flight. Not the ride back in another muggle car. Not the songs on the radio. Not the conversations he had with Hermione and Harry unbeknownst to you.

“Pumpkin!” An older man in a buttoned-up flannel pulled you into his arms. His drawl was thick, making yours sound almost normal. “You are too pale darlin’ ain’t enough sun over there in England,” he chided, a huge smile on his face.

“Oh nonsense,” your mother replied, her drawl having more of a twang. “She’s just fine. Our little Georgia peach,” You face went a little pink as you blushed.

“Momma, Daddy, this is Draco,” he heard more of a drawl slip into your words and Merlin was he in trouble.

“The Brit,” your father scrutinized him for a moment before the smile returned. “Pleasure to meet you son,” he held out his hand.

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you,” Draco almost purred, shaking your father’s hand. 

“Oh Lord, hear that accent,” your mother fawned. “No wonder you fell for him, Y/n,”

“Mom,” you whined, turning a shade of red.

“Well come in you two, you must be exhausted from the flight.”

Draco should have taken your warnings more seriously. Maybe you should have eased him into more. Because a very Muggle farmhouse in the middle of the country with your very American parents was something he was not prepared for.

The floorboards creaked under his socks—shoes left by the front door—as pictures hung on the wall, a lot of them of you in various childhood phases: fishing, in trees, driving your beloved Jeep, posing next to a dead stag—that one made Draco snort, if only Harry knew. There were also tiny little ‘t’s all over the wall that Draco just didn’t understand the meaning of. Were they to ward something off? Was it a collection? Did they stand for some name he wasn’t aware of?

“Y/n, you go on with your mom and fix up dinner,” Your father nodded you two off to the kitchen.

“Dad,” You warned, a familiar look in your eyes.

“You worry too much.” Your dad shook his head. “Now, go on,”

You paused a moment, your stubborn streak flaring before you disappeared into the house, leaving Draco alone with your father, feeling quite anxious.

“Come on in, boy, sit on down and tell me about yourself,” Your father beckoned him to sit on a well-worn leather sofa, a knitted afghan thrown over the back.

Draco knew how to keep light conversation—a perk of being a Malfoy—but this? This he had no idea how to do. Your father seemed to pick up on that as he chuckled.

“So, you like my daughter, do you now?” He asked, his eyes holding the same shade as yours. 

“Yes sir,” Draco nodded. “Very much,”

“Yeah, we think she's something else,” Your father shook his head, chuckling. “Her daddy's girl... mama's world.” His face became hardened, serious, “She deserves respect and that's what she'll get ain't it, son?”

“Y-yes, of course,” Draco stammered. “Always.”

The smile came back to your father’s face and Draco felt like he just passed some sort of test.

“Well, y'all, run along and have some fun while you’re here. Just keep her safe. She’s got a knack for trouble,”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Draco chuckled.

“Dinner!” Two voices called from somewhere else in the house.

“Comin’ darlin’,” Your father called back, standing. “Shall we?” He gestured for Draco to go first.

........................................

“Was that so bad?” You asked later that night as you got ready for bed. It was different, seeing you flit around the room with memorized paths and actions.

“One of the most bizarre things I have ever experienced,” he confessed. “But I have to admit, your mother is a brilliant cook,”

You laughed.

“Oh, tell her that tomorrow, she will love you to pieces,”

Your drawl was coming in thicker the longer you lingered home and Draco began to understand the fascination with his accent, because your drawl did something else to him. The small room you were in was yours. A true work of art that was merely shadowed by your room in London. The soft blue tone room was calming as fairy lights were strung and antique furniture filled the room. Dried flowers and various paintings and posters filled the room matching the quilt spread underneath him.

You came over to his sitting position on the bed, nestling between his legs. His hands slipped up the backs of your thighs and you swatted him.

“Behave,” you hissed. “You have no idea how long it took me to convince Daddy to let us stay in a room together. I’d like to not lose that battle on the first night.”

“You has to ask your dad for permission to sleep with your boyfriend, in your room, as an adult?” He raised an eyebrow. “And I thought my parents were strict.”

“Oh, you don’t know the meaning of the word, pretty boy,” you smiled and draped your arms around his neck.

“I think I quite like this side of you,” Draco grinned.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,”

“For the love of my sanity please use proper English,” Draco dismayed to your amusement.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” You dropped your drawl easily.

“You know what? Never mind,” Draco grinned, causing you to laugh harmoniously.

Never once had Draco ever seen you be a morning person, except now. The sun filtered in through the flowing curtains and your eyes fluttered open, landing on his.

“Mornin’,” You greeted.

“Good morning,”

“You ready?” There was a mischievous look in your eyes.

“For?”

“Well, I don’t think you’re quite ready to meet my friends, so I thought today we could go fishing.”

“Fishing?”

“Well, it’s not deer season so... we can’t exactly hunt. But it is fishing season.” 

“There are seasons for you to kill wildlife?” He asked, watching you get ready.

“Yeah?” You paused, looking over at him. “Helps keep the animals from being over hunted while still keeping up the sport and population down. Daddy and I do it more for the population, not the sport,” Your smile was soft. “And venison is to die for when momma cooks,”

After a breakfast that Draco would be craving for the rest of his life, you loaded up the Chevy pick-up truck (you had informed him) with bait and poles and against his better judgement, he got in.

_____________________________

“I’m gonna seriously have to thank Hermione for takin’ you shoppin’ beforehand,” You grinned, eyeing Draco in a short-sleeved Henley and khaki shorts. “Knowin’ you, you only own suits and dress pants.”

“I own t-shirts,” Draco refuted, clinging to the door handle for dear life as I meandered the backroads towards the lake.

I rolled my eyes and turned onto the trail that would take us to the docks. 

“This isn’t even a road!” Draco dismayed. “It’s barely dirt!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what four-wheel drive is for,” I grinned. “And honey, I fear the day someone takes you muddin’.”

“Mudding?” He asked skeptically.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” I smiled, chuckling darkly, imagining the pristine Draco Malfoy anywhere near a four wheeler or ATV.

Hopping into the boat, Draco eyed me, hesitant on the dock. 

“You can drive this too?” He narrowed his eyes at me.

“It’s barely anything to drive,” I rolled my eyes, throwing my hair up. “Now come on, city boy. A little country ain’t gonna kill you,”

“No,” Draco agreed, settling in the boat beside me. “But a country girl just might,” The purr of his voice had me blushing and fumbling to kill the engine and grab a fishing pole.

Draco absolutely refused to touch the live crawfish. His face scrunched up in disgust as he watched me cast my line in.

“Oh, like it’s any different than you and your potion’s ingredients,” I pointed out. 

“That’s different,” He pouted.

Smiling at his theatrics, the day consisted of Draco dismaying at just about everything. Including but not limited to: sunscreen, mosquitoes, not being able to hold my reeling hand, the heat, the sun, Oakley sunglasses—of which he looked absolutely stunning in and it wasn’t fair—baseball caps, live bass, me handling said bass, me handling a knife, the live crawfish again, the heat... again.

“Oh my God, Draco,” I huffed, not nearly as annoyed as I sounded.

“I’m sorry,” He drawled. “But this is absolutely absurd,”

I might have shoved him into the lake.

When he resurfaced, utter shock was on his face, as well as anger as he scolded my name. 

“Yes?” I answered innocently. “Not so hot anymore is it?” I bated my eyelashes.

“You little—”

“Oh, and watch out for gators,” I grinned mischievously as his eyes went wide with fear. “Kidding!” I laughed, slipping off my crocs. “Probably,”

He was hanging onto the side of the small boat when I leapt off the side and into the icy water. 

“What in the world are you doing?” Draco swam over to me.

“Swimming? Since someone thinks that fishing is absurd,” I mocked his accent. 

“I don’t sound like that,” He grumbled.

“Yes, you do,” I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Stop being so uptight, Dray. Whatever you’re holding onto... reputation or whatever voice that’s in your head...” His face fell.

I knew that he had been raised to hate everything around him. The innocence and simplicity of it. Sure, it had taken some time and I had made a home in his heart, those prejudices fading, but he still fought hard sometimes. And maybe I wish he didn’t. And maybe I was selfish to think that.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered softly. “I just... Your world is so incredible, Draco. Filled with things that are beyond my wildest dreams, and maybe I wanted to show you into mine,”

His arms snaked around my waist as he held me close, resting his forehead to mine.

“I’m sorry too,” He murmured softly. “Of course, I want to be a part of your world as well, but— ”

“Maybe fishing was a bit over ambitious?” I mused.

“Maybe slightly,” He chuckled, pressing his lips to mine sweetly. 

“At least we have dinner tonight,”

“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not,”

I wasn’t.

__________________________________

The next day wasn’t as ambitious as fishing with you, but it was still quite new to him. Dressed in a sundress, you took his hand and lead him down the main street of your small town, the small shops reminding him of a fairytale. He was surprised at how many people recognized you and said hello. A kindness that he wasn’t accustomed to in the Wizarding world. Especially when the café owner had a long conversation with you and then said that your lunch was ‘on the house.’

“Not too bad?” You asked softly, after finishing lunch. 

“Not bad at all,” He smiled.

After bringing in the groceries from a quaint muggle shop, into your warm little yellow kitchen, you took Draco’s hand and led him into the backyard. The sun was setting just beyond the horizon, painting the sky in crimson colors.

“Mr. Fancypants alright with climbing a few trees?” There was a smirk on your face. 

“What are we? Five?” Draco chuckled, following you into the tree line.

“Well, I guess that is when daddy and I built this,” You gestured to a certain tree, where an emasculate treehouse resided.

Despite the wooden construction’s age, it still held well. Draco was half expecting it to be bigger on the inside, a commonality in the Wizarding World, but no, what he saw on the outside was what was reflected on the inside. This treehouse held no secrets. Draco smiled as he watched you climb the tree with no shoes on—a commonality he had noticed. You went barefoot whenever you could.

You helped him up and his eyes darted around, taking in the little house with it’s rope banisters, many windows and various trinkets and knickknacks that Draco had no hope in naming or identifying. When his eyes found you again, there was a blanket folded into your arms.

“When I was little, I used to come out here and stargaze... I don’t know how many times Daddy would have to come up here and carry me home ‘cause I fell asleep,” A smile touched your lips.

Draco looked up to the wooden roof and raised an eyebrow skeptically. You caught his question and nodded to a rope to his left. His fingers grasped the course fibers and tugged it experimentally. A mechanism went off and the roof parted at the gable, letting him see the first stars that had come out to play.

There was something different about looking up at these stars with you. He had spent years studying them in class and couldn’t remember half of what he had learned, but with you, they held a different meaning. You knew all of the stories it seemed. The ones that he learned as a child and some he didn’t. It was jarring, hearing the familiar stories fall from your lips. After all this time, maybe your muggle world wasn’t so far off from his magical one.

True to your word, you did end up sleeping softly in his arms as he looked up at the stars, then down at your peaceful face. Knowing that you wouldn’t want to spend the night outside—and neither would he for that matter—he carefully scooped you into his arms, and instead of risking dropping you, he simply apparated to the soft grass below and headed up towards the house.

Your father was waiting on the porch, the light still on despite the late hour, nursing a can, a soft smile on his face.

“Good to see that some things don’t change with her,” Your father opened the door for him. “Sometimes I think I lose her to her fancy schools, halfway around the world,” There was an air of melancholy to his words.

“I can assure you that you’ll never lose her,” Draco smiled down at you. “She adores and loves you more than you’ll ever know. The way she lights up when she talks about home...”

“You’ve made an old man very happy tonight Draco,” Your dad smiled. “Now go on up, I’m gonna close the house up for the night,”

.................................

“I’d like to apologize in advance for just about everythin’ that’s about to happen,” You took his hand smiling.

“How bad can they be?” Draco mused. “You’ve met my friends, and that went well,”

“Uhuh,” You laughed. “Sure. I’ll take that vote of confidence.” You easily backed your truck up into the circle of other vehicles surrounding a rather large bonfire that gave Draco a bit of anxiety.

“Look at what the tide washed in!” Someone called from the back of a pickup truck. 

“No way!” Another gasped.

“Since when did you get home!?”

A girl rushed up and pulled you into a hug, dislodging your hand from his as he watched you spin with the girl, both of you laughing. A few others came up and hugs were passed out, hellos exchanged.

“Son of a bitch, you never said he was hot, Y/n,” The first friend who greeted—Rebecca— raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, because that’s all I look for in a guy,” You rolled your eyes, offering him a beer and taking a seat on the tailgate of your pickup.

“I’m just glad to see that you haven’t gone full brit on us,” Another—Megan smiled from the arms of a guy that Draco would have stereo typed to be on your arm instead. “Still think you can outshoot me?” She grinned.

“With my eyes closed,” You drawled, taking a sip of your own hard iced tea. “Seriously, y’all think I was just gonna forget everythin’?”

“We didn’t think you’d come back after find Mr. London over here,” Rebecca grinned.

“Yeah, you’ve been awful quiet over there Union Jack,” Megan narrowed her eyes at him, and he felt the same sort of anxiety he had around your parents. “What are your intentions with our Y/n?”

“Y’all really? What are we? High schoolers? And he has a name ya know.” You rolled your eyes, leaning against him, intertwining your finger with his. That eased his anxiety a bit as his eyes stayed trained on the dancing fire.

“Well, any guy worthy of catching your eye must be something special,” Tyler—the guy sitting next to Rebecca—shrugged.

“Oh, come on Tyler, we were freshman,” You scoffed, taking another swig from your can.

Draco’s interest was piqued at this new information. Was there something between you and Tyler that he wasn’t aware of? Was it something he had to worry about? His grip tightened around you and he caught the sly smile on your face at the action.

He learned a lot about you that night. You never were one to brag but stars did your friends like to embarrass you. You weren’t the top of your class, but you were pretty damn close. You always got yourself out of any kind of trouble and had about every boy at your heels in school and didn’t give them an air of interest—Tyler lamented quite obnoxiously. You could be out late Saturday night at a party, but every morning you were up early, in the choir at church—which shocked Draco, you had always been hesitant to sing around him, and he wasn’t exactly sure what ‘church’ was but... it was a question for another time.

The conversation lulled as food was brought out. You offered him a bit of mangled stretched out wire and a hot dog and shot him a dazzling smile before showing him how to roast it over the fire. It was messy and uncivilized, and Merlin, Draco loved it. Sitting cross-legged beside you, a paper plate in his lap filled with such rich food and sweet fruit, he truly caught a glimpse into your world again.

The buzz of insects and glow of others, the heat and warmth of the fire, the smell of grass and dirt, the sound of some country song blasting from a nearby truck, the sway of your body as you hummed along, the smile that rested on your face, the buzz of alcohol in his system, and the taste of it on your lips, Draco never felt more... free. The Dark Mark could be nothing more than a tattoo. His scars could mimic Alex’s dirt biking scars. His school career could be scoffed at like yours was. His parents could just be strict and rich. He could be free.

_____________________________

My thumb absentmindedly stroked the back of Draco’s hand as the night wound down. I had switched to sweet tea a while ago, knowing I’d had to drive home. There was something oddly comforting in seeing Draco in the midst of my small-town world. His careful blue eyes, stark blond hair, and pale creamy skin seemed to rebel at the mere thought, but the smile on his lips overrode it all, claiming he belonged.

In bed that night, my fingers traced over the scars that littered his chest. It was hard to imagine that the Harry I knew caused them. It seemed like worlds away. Even in Draco’s arms, London and magic and wizards sounded like a fairytale, some far-fetched dream.

“Your friends are... nice,” Draco murmured, drawing a chuckle from me.

“That’s one way to put it,” I propped up on my elbow. “Nothing too absurd I hope?” There was a slight teasing tone to my words.

He smiled lazily at me.

“It’s... different here,” Draco decided.

“Good different? Or bad different?”

“Free different.” He mused. “Like... it—my past... doesn’t exist at all. No one here knows, or judges me...”

“Well,” I whispered softly, running my hand through his hair. “It is a different world. Somethin’ you have to love about a small town,” A smile grew on my face. “And it’s not about your past, not anymore. It’s your future that’s important,”

“As long as you’re there,” Draco pressed a kiss to my forehead. 

“For as long as you’ll have me,”

“Forever,”

I spent the next day teaching Draco how to bake. He was a decent cook after spending some time with my grandmother and I in London, but backing was a bit different, as Draco found out. With classic rock on the radio and mom and dad out for the day, Draco and I had a blast. A few times I saw him cheat and use wandless magic. It earned him some flour in his face—which he also magicked away. When I protested, he pressed a kiss to my lips and maybe I forgot why I was upset in the first place.

With the pie in the oven, Draco and I lounged across the couch. His hands were fiddling with my hair absentmindedly, as we watched The Breakfast Club. Hermione and Harry had done an alright job introducing Draco to muggle movies and shows. But as much as I loved Doctor Who—we were all convinced that the Doctor was a wizard secretly—or Sherlock, some American normalcy was appreciated.

That night I couldn’t help but laugh as Draco was very confused about football. It was like translating something through three languages—Wizard, to British, to American. After a while I think he gave up on the notion and just nursed his beer. The game held my interest for the second half while my father was very adamant about coaching from his armchair.

“You should have seen him at her little league games,” My mother muttered, causing Draco and I to chuckle and my dad to simmer some.

“Softball,” I filled Draco in. “Like baseball... but for girls I guess.” He nodded.

Before I knew it, the week ended, and Draco and I were packing to return back home, well to London anyway. I traded in my sundresses for jeans and sighed as I unzipped my suitcase, starting to unpack.

“It’s not like we’ll never go back,” Draco wrapped me up in his arms.

“We?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Did you not want me to go back?” A playful smile graced his lips.

“No, I do! I just... well, I know you Dray,” I draped my arms around his neck. “You like things a certain way in a certain order, and well, that,” I gestured vaguely. “was anything but,”

“Maybe it’s time I leave this behind me,” He murmured softly. “Stuffy offices and grey skies...”

My eyes widened in surprise and joy.

“Not completely,” He amended. “I do still have to work, they need me as Head Healer, and you have uni, and then there’s Teddy to think about, but... maybe a summer home there wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,”

I drew him into a tight hug, tears stinging my eyes. It wasn’t even that he wanted to go back, it was that he wanted me with him when he did. He talked about a home like I’d be there beside him.

And when he was down on one knee, surrounded by my London family, with a simple ring, I knew that he did want me there beside him, and always would.

I gave him an escape from his past and he promised me a future.

.

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[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.25

Adventure Awaits

02/22/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 6,688

Warnings: language, light smut, angst, fluff, so much fluffffffffff, obscured nudity

A/N: Hopefully things will continue to come forth easily. The beginning of this chapter wrote itself, then I hit an emotional block but I finally got through it and here is the chapter! Things are a-moving and I can’t wait to share with you all what I have planned! If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

“What’s this?” Her voice is wary, eyeing the spacious kitchen which has been cleared out of the two long tables used to prepare all your meals.

Every servant has been given the day off with the exception of your head cook who is busy preparing your meals in the smaller manor where Peter has been staying. And one servant to tend to your needs.

However, you don’t want any interruption so the first chance you had you sent her off to relax on her own.

At the center of the kitchen with it’s carefully decorated and cobbled floors in shades of dark grays and browns is a large copper basin, big enough for two.

Floating amongst the pleasantly heated bath waters are the deepest of burgundy rose petals. A few of your own signature peonies thrown in, but the deep roses darken the surface. The clear waters are made milky with oils and imported salts that your research indicated would reduce stress.

“What does it look like?” You tease, moving past Nat still wearing the white nightdress you’d been put in for your examination in the morning.

“It looks like a very large bath.” She says a small curl to her lips.

“Because it is a very large bath.” You chuckle. “Peter?”

Your partner in this endeavor moves forward from the large double doorway, smiling at the look of surprise on Natasha’s face.

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Make sure no one enters? And inform me at once when Steve returns. Or of any news. Or if he sends word for me. Or-”

“Y/N…” Nat chuckles, watching you with amusement as she cuts you off.

“Sorry. I’m just-”

“Worried.” Peter nods. “He’ll be alright. Knowing about what we do isn’t easy. But trust us…we’re very capable.”

“And he has Samuel and Bucky with him this time.” Nat reminds you. “They are a tough trio to overpower.”

You’re not exactly comforted but knowing that Steve isn’t alone this time does make you feel better.

“I guess you’re right.” You sigh.

“Don’t worry, your Majesty. I will make sure that no one disturbs you unless it’s Steve.” Peter promises.

With a quick bow of his head, he leaves the room and shuts the door tight.

“So, what is the bath for?” Nat wonders, moving over to stand by the edge of the large basin.

“For you.” You tell her and move to stand beside her. “Take off your clothes.”

You don’t wait for her to be ready. You reach behind her and start to tug at the ribbons underneath her bodice.

“Wait! Y/N!” She twists in your grasp, trying to see what you’re doing.

“For what?”

“Your Majesty…” She complains.

“Stand still.” You fuss, and finish tugging her bodice free then peel it off and toss it aside before moving onto her skirt.

“What are you doing?” She laughs, true happiness in her voice. “Why a bath?”

“Because…” You begin, getting her skirt off before tossing it onto her discarded bodice. “…I have wanted to repay your love and support for a while now and seeing as this is how you have taken care of me, I wanted to reciprocate.”

You peek up at her beautiful face to find her slightly stunned but also impressed?

“Have you been reading a lot?” She asks, no doubt noticing your improved vocabulary. You really are trying very hard to be the Queen that Broklin and Steve deserve.

You feel your cheeks flood with heat. “I’ve been studying.”

“You’re doing wonderful.” Nat smiles.

“Our first week here Steve was so busy I only saw him when we went to bed and a few hours in the morning, if that. I had a lot of time to read.”

“Are you finding it easier?” She wonders.

“A bit. My writing has improved as well. Looks a bit more polished now.” You declare proudly.

“That’s wonderful, Y/N.” Nat praises and you smile.

“Take off your undergarment and get in, while the water is still hot.” You tell her, then proceed to remove your own.

As you strip, you caress the tiny swell of your belly. Once you’re undressed, you very carefully climb into the basin and with Nat protectively holding onto your arm to help, sit yourself down on one end leaving the opposite open for her.

Settled, you watch as she strips, and feel your mouth fall open as she drops her underdressed and exposes the exquisite perfection beneath.

Natasha’s body is a vision. Beautiful and porcelain smooth. Every curve appears sculpted by a master craftsman. There is no bit of Nat’s body that is not the ideal of what you think every man hopes his lover will look like. You aren’t even ashamed of your gawking because she is stunning.

“No wonder James is so eager to marry you.” You realize.

Natasha scoffs. “He only wishes he’s seen me so exposed.”

Hm…you would have thought that they’d already been together with how affectionate and open they are.

“That’s my point.” You tell her. “He might very well faint when he finally sees how beautiful you are.”

Nat shakes her head but settles into the steaming water and with one heavy sigh, you see the stresses of her day to day life leave her. And though you know that she does not begrudge you her care, you must be an added stress too.

You should have done this a long time ago.

“Are you comfortable?” You check, wondering if maybe different oils might have been better or if the water has gone too cold.

“Perfectly.” Nat assures you. “Is this what you had in mind for our special day together? Getting me naked in a tub?”

You laugh but nod. “Since coming here, to Broklin marrying Steve, there’s a decorum that I-no, that we are expected to adhere to. So much of our lives are spent abiding by everyone else’s rules. I wanted to give you an opportunity to relax.”

“Thank you.” Nat nods. “But after the morning you just had I would think you need this more than I do.”

You feel your smile waver and then fall leaving a sorrowful grin in its place. Pushing yourself to sit a little straighter, you begin to gather your hair up and away from your shoulders. It drips a little at the tips but it’s mostly still dry.

Nat’s own fiery red locks are already piled up on top of her head in beautiful waves. You’re still absolutely dumbstruck by her beauty, milky skin glistening in the steam, her breasts just barely hidden in the clean yet murky waters.

The rose petals help to keep her shielded.

“I’m not bothered by the examination. Doctor Selvig was very gentle. And it’s good to know that the babe and I are progressing healthily. However, I am still worried about him. What if he’s born with all of the problems that Steve had as a child? Will we have to seek help as the Queen Mother did to cure Steve and save his life?” You chew on your lip, finishing up with your hair and sitting back carefully.

Your hands find your belly and you begin to caress the bump gently.

“I’m sure you and Steve have nothing to fret over. From what I understand of his cure, it changed him in every sense but who he was as a person. He’s always been a reckless, self-sacrificing idiot.” She means for it to make you laugh and you do smile, but your worries as a mother will not relent.

“I hope you’re right.” You sigh.

“Shall I distract you?” She offers. “I did promise to tell you my story.”

Suddenly, your worries are shoved to the wayside as your need to understand this woman, your closest friend, completely.

“I suppose I should start from the age of three?” She begins, “I grew up in a small village, poor. Very much like you did. I don’t remember it, but what I do remember is being somewhere new. I was taken from my home—or maybe sold? I’m not certain. I have searched for my parents but have found nothing—and placed in what I thought was an orphanage for girls. For a long time, that’s what I assumed.

“I had no parents. I was given a bed and food, but also other things that I did not know weren’t normal until I was almost fifteen.” She confesses.

“What kinds of things?” You wonder.

“Violent things. Styles of fighting. Techniques to infiltrate, mimic, a form of acting I suppose you could call it. I was taught to be a spy. To charm those around me and then extract from them whatever it is I should need from them.

“Most importantly, I was taught how to kill, proficiently. And I’m…I have done so many times. The number of people…”

“Is this why you think you don’t deserve to be with James?” You’re astounded by her reasoning. Everyone has done things that they are not proud of.

“It is part of the reason, yes.” Nat admits.

“Nat-”

“I should be dead.” Nat tells you, shocking you into silence.

You wrap your arms around your tummy, trying to hold yourself together at this stunning revelation.

“What do you mean?” You whisper, terrified of a world without your best friend within it.

Nat’s lips curl up into a small sad smirk. He shakes her head once and draws her eyes down to her hand as she passes a floating rose petal between her long feminine fingers, which you suddenly notice are calloused and scarred.

“Back before I met anyone on the team, I was on a…I’ll call it a quest as I think that is the best word to describe it…on this quest, what must have been my twenty-third in a fortnight? I don’t even remember where I was.

“I was closing in on my target, some duke or prince—it didn’t matter—when suddenly, an arrow shot straight through my arm. I still have the scar.” She says, reaching up to stroke the faded line on her left bicep. “It was Clint.”

“The Hawkeye?” You wonder, remembering the pseudonym for the effectively retired member of the Avengers.

“Yes. He was given the order to kill me on sight. And it’s no wonder for I had caused so much turmoil among the Southern kingdoms by killing many high-ranking officials and members of countless courts.

“The price on my head was high but an old group known as the Shield had the highest bid. The man in charge, General Fury had instructed Clint to bring him my head. But Clint instead incapacitated me. He tied me up and spent a week trying to get through all of the cobwebs in my head.

“It took another few months before he was willing to turn his back on me. Literally. He was no longer afraid I’d attack him.

“By the end of the year, every bit of mind control that the Orphanage had me under was broken and I could see myself for the first time in my life.” Nat smiles, this time more genuinely, but it shifts back into the sadness you’d seen in the examination room earlier in the morning. “But although he gave me back my truest self, there are things that the Orphanage took from me that I can never get back.”

“What do you mean?” You’ve shifted closer as she’s spoken, drawn in by this astounding life of violence that she’d lived before you met her.

“The reason that I won’t marry Bucky…” She picks some more at the petals as they float around her breasts, the pads of her fingers stroking the crimson velvet. “…is because I could never be a proper wife for him. Not as one should be to a lord of such high standing.”

“Nat-?” You begin, growing frustrated with your lack of understanding.

“I can never give him children, Y/N.” She meets your eyes, emerald jewels glistening with tears as she lets her words sink in.

Your hands wrap just a little more tenderly against your belly.

“Oh, Nat.” You lament. “And you can’t-?”

“There’s no way to fix it. They were very thorough.” She tells you, dropping her head as she lets her sorrow flow through her beautiful alabaster figure.

You scoot closer with a splash as your body cuts through the fragrant water. Your arms are around her shoulders as you meet her forehead with your own, shutting your eyes as you embrace her close and will yourself to take her pain.

“I am so sorry.” You whisper, afraid to speak louder for you might very well cry. “You have known a life that I would not have wished on my worst enemy. It pains me to know that I can’t help you or erase what’s happened.”

Nat sighs, bodily relaxing as your hands stroke the silky moistened blades of her shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” You repeat, opening your eyes to look at her large lower lip as it trembles. “Even if you cannot have your own children, my son shall be your Godson.”

Your promise is true. If something should happen to you, you would hope that Nat and Bucky would take care of your boy. Raise him well. To be a good King and a good man.

“I will need you to care for him as if he is your own. He will be yours, as much as mine. How could I do any of this without you, Nat? I need you. My son needs you.” You lean away to meet her eyes, hoping she can see the sincerity in your own aching expression.

She stares at you for a minute, her eyes shifting between your two, back and forth as her mind races with mysterious thoughts.

Suddenly she smiles. “How are you so…so wonderful? So kind?”

You’re not sure what she means, and you try to think about what it is you just said. Whatever it is that makes her feel that you’re wonderful and kind, you know it’s only because it’s Nat and you would do anything to ensure her happiness.

“Because I love you.” You tell her, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. “Because you’re you and I want you to know that you aren’t alone. You’ve been with me every step of the way on this chaotic journey that has been the first year of my marriage…”

Has it really been less than a year?!

“…and you deserve every happiness.”

Nat reaches back to take hold of one of your hands then brings it up to her lips to kiss it.

“My gracious Queen.” She sighs.

You let her hold your hand to her lips for a moment as you watch her and the true fear that washes off of her.

“Nat?” You probe, “Does Bucky know?”

She nods, another small sigh escaping her lips. “He knows everything. Where I came from, what I’ve done, what I can never do for him…”

“He still loves you.” You realize.

“Yes.” Nat nods. “The idiot.”

You smile but reach up to caress the sides of her face to draw her gaze. “Nat, my love, Bucky adores you more than anyone or anything else in this world. If he has no qualms with your inability to give him children, then why should you protest?”

“Because he deserves more than that.” Nat replies exasperated and you don’t doubt that she’s had this discussion with Bucky countless times, and she must be tired of trying to get her viewpoint heard.

“And I understand that, but he loves you. If he feels in any way how I feel about Steve, there will be no getting rid of him.” You argue.

Nat growls, “I know.”

“Nat…” She looks at you. “…earning someone’s love can be as natural as breathing. It was that way for Steve and Margaret. Or it can be one of the most difficult things we ever have to do.

“Some of us have to fight for our love and the struggle can be grueling and exhausting. It can damn near kill you. Trust me. I know.

“You and Bucky have managed to find each other, and he loves you so much that he doesn’t care that you cannot give him what you think he deserves.

“If you can, if it doesn’t feel like too much of an imposition, I beg you to let him love you.

“Let yourself be happy.” You stroke her cheek with your thumbs, nodding as her eyes are glued to your own. “You deserve to be happy. Just as Steve did. Though his past will always be a part of who he is, it doesn’t weigh him down any longer. You can let go too.

“I worry, Nat, that if you continue to fight it, Bucky might very well run away just as I did. And then you would be without him…”

Nat scoffs. “I don’t think I could handle him going missing again.”

“Again?” Your brow furrows.

“It’s not important. It was years ago.” Nat shakes her head.

You open your mouth to protest, but your stomach gurgles loudly.

The sound breaks the tension and Nat chuckles then rises slowly before stepping out of the water to quickly drape herself in a thick deep green robe.

“I think you’re hungry.” Nat tells you, grabbing your own fur trimmed blue robe.

She holds it open for you beside the large tub.

“Or at the very least, our little Prince is.” She reminds you.

“You cannot just say something like that and not explain.” You argue.

“Later.” Nat brushes your curiosity off. “Come on.”

With a pout, you let her help you out and into your satin slippers, then reach to take your robe. Nat hisses, pulls it out of reach, then points at you with her chin.

Frowning, you turn around so that she can wrap you up in the soft warm fabric.

“Cheer up, your Majesty. Perhaps Steve has returned?”

This is a rude and shameless tactic of her to use, but it works and with a small pouty scoff, you move for the door suddenly eager to see your blonde, bearded, and blue-eyed scrumptious husband.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve hadn’t returned when dinner came. He hadn’t returned when it was time for you to go to bed.

You'd sat all night in the plush blue chairs by the fire, counting the haunting calls of the Barred owl, no doubt nesting in the aftermath of the blizzard.

You’re on call number three hundred and seventy-two when your eyes close and don’t reopen.

You hear a sigh and they’re coaxed to reopen.

In front of you, on the cushioned footrest that you rarely use as you much prefer to curl up on the large chair, sits a handsome king.

His blonde hair is damp with small flecks of snow still clinging to the strands.

His cheeks are red, flushed from the biting cold, his lips only slightly blue.

You don’t like that. You want to reach out and massage some life back into that frowning pucker.

Instead, your sleep weary body adjusts in the seat to lean your head against the left side as you wrap your arms around yourself more tightly.

You smile, happy to see Steve despite the disapproval he seems to have with you.

Blinking is a chore. You’re so tempted to just close your eyes again and drift into dreams.

Instead, you lick your lips and swallow.

“Hello.” You croak, voice protesting use so soon after regaining partial consciousness.

“Why are you sleeping in the chair?” Steve asks.

This is what has offended him. This is the source of his frown.

“You’re with child, my petal. You can’t be sleeping in chairs.” He states.

Your back agrees and as you make to sit up, you scrunch your face as the pressure in your back nearly overwhelms you and then subsides.

“I’mmkay.” You lie.

“Well, I’m not.” Steve argues.

With a bite to your bottom lip, you lift your head again, realizing his genuine irritation.

“Have I done something?”

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “Not you, my flower. It’s…Pierce isn’t convinced of your pregnancy.”

“But…” You begin, your heart beginning to pound. You can already feel the fear and the stress building within you.

You cup your bump, fearful of what this means for your baby. Steve scoots closer, his arms tucking in beside your hips to cup the small of your back. It makes him get off the stool and he kneels in front of you, getting as close as the chair will let him.

You like this about him. He seems to know that you need the physical reassurance. Not just now, but all the time. He’s always touching you, holding you, making sure that you know he wants you to be near.

After so much of his distance, you appreciate the proximity in which he keeps you, both in private and in the company of others.

“He’ll have to wait to see the child born. He has no choice.” Steve tells you, voice low and soothing. “Doctor Selvig has assured him that you are with child, Lord Ross saw and was convinced by your growing belly. He has a daughter. Before his wife died, he was very devoted to her while she was with child as well. He knows what to look for.

“Pierce has never had a family. He has no wife. No children. He’s an idiot.” Steve sighs.

Although it’s comforting to know that Lord Ross believes your expectant belly, knowing that Lord Pierce will be looking for any signs that it is a farce—perhaps actively trying to prove it even if doing so should put your son at risk—fills you with a dreadful fear unlike any you have known before.

“Steve…” You shudder.

“It’ll be alright, my petal. I won’t let anything happen to our little prince. You and he are both the only thing that matters now.” He promises and you believe him, despite the crown that rests upon his head.

Your head.

You pull him close, resting your forehead against his, your hand a vice around the front of his shirt.

“Why can’t we just be?” You wonder in whisper.

“I’m sorry.” Steve grieves. “This is all because of me. If I was not your husband-"

“Hush.” You frown, pulling back to look at him. “I’ve fought tooth and nail to have you, I won’t have you wishing yourself away from me.”

He smiles softly, eyes brimming with love and pride.

“I would gladly suffer ten times what I suffered when we started if it meant that we could be as we are now.” You gush.

Steve’s smile widens, teeth exposed transforming his handsome face with more beauty.

“Is that why you ran away from me?” He teases, brows scrunched in amusement but genuine curiosity.

“I ran away from you because you were being an ass.” You shake him, hand still fisted around his shirt front.

“You are the best of women.” He states, “The only one that would have put up with what I did and the things I said…I wish I could take them back.”

“I don’t.” You realize, shaking your head, looking down at your hand clutching his shirt. “Save for our wedding night…there is not one moment of agony I would erase. I know you better for it. I know how stubborn you are, and unaware of yourself. I know how strictly you abide by your morals and how reckless you can be when your emotions are running high.

“But most importantly, I know how fiercely you can love. The lengths to which you’ll go to protect it.

“And if you hold ours in importance to a fraction of the love you had for Margaret, then I am content. All I wanted was a chance to love you.” Steve reaches behind your head, caressing the back and tickling the nape of your neck.

His face is torn with intensity, brow furrowed, jaw tight, eyes piercing with their sorrowful passion.

“A fraction-" He begins but stops as he stares into your eyes, hopeful devotion is all you can offer him.

Is that enough?

“Y/N you are my whole world now. I may have duties and responsibilities to my kingdom but having you in my life now, I could never go back to one without you.

“I always thought that my purpose was to defend the less fortunate, the defenseless and it is…but you have given my life true substance. I thought my life would begin and end with the fight I have been struggling with since I could throw my shield.

“Even with Margaret our lives were nothing but this job, this unspoken calling. I didn’t know that there could be something more important than the fight. And there is.

“There’s you. Our family. Our life together is…if you asked me to give up this life, I would do so in a heartbeat.” Steve gushes.

You’re a blubbering mess. You began to tear up at his admittance that he could never go back to a life without you. You laugh once sniffling and probably looking insane with tears pouring across your cheeks.

“Don’t do that.” You argue, tightening that fist around his shirt. “You love doing it.”

You see it in the way his eyes brighten when he talks about it. As much as you hate the idea of him showing up, broken and bleeding the way he had before, you couldn’t take this part of his life from him.

It’s who he is. You see that.

“But I would stop. For you. For our family.” Steve insists.

“I’ll never ask you to.” You assure him.

He smiles and shakes his head. “You won’t have to. If the time comes that the stress of this life becomes too much for you. I will abandon it.”

“No.” You fight. “I’ll deal with my own stress, you can’t stop!”

Steve chuckles, squeezing the back of your neck with affection.

“Have you always been this stubborn?” He asks.

“Have you?”

Of course, you know the answer to that better than anyone.

He laughs again but pulls you down to meet his lips with a kiss. It gets heated quickly and while your head is still spinning from the way his tongue rolls against your own, he’s scooping you up.

He places you in bed, tracing a line from your jaw down along your neck, collarbone, chest—he circles your nipple, pebbled from the attention over your thick blue nightdress—along your side, then around to your growing belly.

He cups the curve of it, nipping at your neck as your breathing heavies and a soft moan slips through your parted lips.

With your eyes closed, while your body burns for him, your mind races through a million thoughts before it settles on the fact that he’s in his Captain uniform, without his mask, sans his shield.

“Was everything alright?” You wonder.

“With what?” Steve asks, voice octaves deeper, rough as his hand begins to slip along the curve of your thighs, pushing the left one up to open you up.

“The attacks?” You clarify, voice breathless.

“Oh.” Steve stops, his hand drifting around to rest along your hip, still tight and possessive but he props himself up on his right elbow to look down at you as your heaving bosom slows.

“I was worried about you, of course, but the people…?” You explain.

“We lost a woman who was protecting her elderly parents.” Steve sighs, sadness in his storm blue eyes.

“Oh.” You reply, a small hitch in your voice as your chest aches.

You blink hard, trying to banish the tears from your eyes.

“Things aren’t going as well as I would like.” Steve explains. “I’m calling in some help. I’m afraid I will have to take Natasha with me next time. Peter as well, if things do not improve.

“But it terrifies me to leave you without some type of significant protection.” Steve brings his hand back to your belly.

If it were only you, you wouldn’t mind being left unprotected. But with your prince…

“I could always go stay with my father?” You offer.

Steve shakes his head. “I’m going to need him on this too. But you’re right. His castle may be safer for you as Pierce is always so present in ours. I’ll write to him today, see if he likes the idea. I doubt he would mind his own daughter staying for a few weeks.”

“I miss mother too.” You admit. “And Morgana.”

“Malibia it is then.” Steve nods.

Then he lays there, smiling at you, content.

But you shift beneath him, left leg still pushed to the side, bent at the knee.

“Steve…” You complain and bite down on your lower lip.

He grins. “My queen is ravenous.”

“Yes...please.” You plead and there’s a shift in his expression as you beg for him.

His jaw tightens and he dives down between your legs, hands renewed along your thighs, pushing them up to spread you as he devours you.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N?” Steve calls, drawing you away from the pile of books by the chair you’ve settled in for the afternoon.

After the exertions of your morning, Steve was eager to get you off your feet and his pleading for you to read to him became unbearable. You caved.

So while he’d settled in at the desk to write the letter to your father, you’d read to him, reciting from an old book of sonnets about spring and summer winds making your skin ache for the comforting rays of the sun.

You pull the small blanket from across your legs and your tempest blue gown spills out around your legs. The fabric is smooth but warm, like silk but thicker and better for the colder climate here at the cottage.

“What’s the matter?” You check, rising with worry at the tone in his voice.

“Nothing.” He assures you, then moves back into view from around one of the bookcases towards the door.

You’d chosen to sit by the large window to look out at the grounds as the snow continue to salt the already frozen earth.

“Agatha is here.” Steve tells you.

“Grandmother?’ You move towards him and he nods.

Steve has taken to the old woman like he would a parental figure. It’s sweet the way he tends to her and though you’re sure it’s because he’s a good man and she a sweet woman, you wonder if maybe it’s also because he knows how important she is to you.

“Where is she?” The aged voice asks.

“Through here, grandmother.” You call, making to walk to her but Steve places his arm around your waist to stop you.

The old woman moves into view and you can’t help the smile that crosses your face as stunning relief takes away any stress you still held in your body.

“Oh, my dear.” She fusses, and moves for you, hands extended.

You take her hands, bringing them up to your cheeks to warm them with your own heat. She’s so cold. You wonder if she didn’t bundle up enough.

“It’s so frigid outside.” You worry. “Where is your cloak?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, girl. Romanoff said that you were experiencing pains?”

You chance a glance at Steve, terrified of the worry it might bring him to hear this, but you nod when you see him looking intentionally calm. There’s a small shift in his jaw that tells you he’s keeping it in for your sake.

“Yes…” You nod. “I think. Just a bit. A small ache in my lower back and my stomach. But the pain was short lived and I have not felt it since.”

Your assurances don’t do anything to make her feel better. She frowns at you then glares at Steve.

“Your doing, no doubt?” She accuses him.

“Grandmother…” You disapprove.

“It is. Forgive me Grandmother. It was an oversight on my own part. I should have made certain to take care when I went out.” He wraps his arm around you more tightly.

“Yes, well, as long as you know that you were in the wrong.” She nods.

“Your Majesties?” A voice interrupts before you can defend Steve to the old woman.

“Come in, Peter.” Steve says, and all three of you turn to look towards the doorway and the bookcases that shield it from view.

There are two sets of footsteps you hear before two bodies round the shelf of aged and multicolored volumes of text.

One of them is, of course, Peter. Wearing a thick gray tunic with sleeves that button along his wrists. He’s getting bigger and bigger by the day. His muscles hardening even more than they already have.

He’s sprouting up. Filling out. He’ll have the girls at court in a frenzy when the lot of you return to Castle Town.

He’s smiling from ear to ear and for a split second you wonder what might have brought on such a pleasant visage when the second body rounds the shelf and your father saunters in.

“Tony?” Steve say, his eyes narrowing a little before his face breaks into a genuine smile.

He releases your waist to move forward and meet your father in a firm shaking of hands.

“Steve.” Tony nods.

“I was just writing to you.” Steve tells him, finding it all a little fateful probably. “What brings you to the cottage?”

You sweep past grandmother and Peter and sidestep Steve as Tony knowingly opens his arms for you.

Devouring him with your eyes, you appreciate the healthy way he looks. Skin glowing, eyes bright, dark chestnut hair layer with only the thinnest layer of snowflakes. His dark leather tunic is weathered and old but probably a comfort in such terrible weather.

“Father!” You gasp, as you settle within his embrace.

His chuckle brings you comfort, and you smile as he gives you a squeeze.

“I think I owe you a somewhat sincere congratulations?” He checks, leaning back to look at your face.

For a moment you’re utterly confused. “Why?”

“Aren’t you with child?” He asks, leaning back and holding you at arm’s length to look you over.

“Oh!” You laugh, so giddy to see him that your joy is infectious, and everyone laughs with you. “Oh, yes! Thank you. I’m so happy, father.”

Tony’s smile widens, a smug look of triumph on his face. “I knew you could make my daughter happy.”

His words meant for Steve are only slightly tinged with venom.

“Yes.” Steve nods, a strange look of remembrance flitting across both their handsome faces.

“I hope you can continue to make her shine like this.” Tony threatens. “I’m not afraid to punch you again.”

It’s like a lead weight falls into your chest and sticks your heart against the bottom of your stomach.

“What?” You gasp, quiet but sincerely shocked.

Steve laughs nervously, moving to stand closer to you. He wraps his arm around your shoulders to give you some comfort.

“Nothing. He was only joking.” Steve assures you. “Weren’t you Tony?”

His insistence is so firm that you’re now certain your father wasn’t joking.

“You punched Steve?” You ask in shock.

Tony clears his throat, averts his eyes, and moves on.

“Why were you writing to me?” He asks, moving towards the letter on the desk, half written.

“I…things are getting worse here in Broklin and I was going to ask you whether it would be too much of an imposition to take Y/N in for a time? Perhaps until after she has had our son?” Steve doesn’t look at you, but he pulls you closer. He squeezes you in against his side.

“You know very well that Y/N will always be welcome in Malibia. Her mother is always in earnest need to see her and Morgana writes to her often. Does she not?” Father asks, looking at you for response.

You nod. “Yes. Very often.”

“Mm.” Father agrees, looking back at the letter and giving it only a cursory reading before he begins to adjust the cuffs of his tunic shirt, pacing before the large window.

“What is it, father?” You ask him, very aware of what he looks like when he’s deep in thought.

“It’s fortuitous that you should need to come to Malibia for safety when I was actually here to ask you both for a rather large favor. And I think you, at least, son-in-law, owe me.” Father stops, hands gathered behind his back as he stops pacing and turns to look at Steve.

“What is it that you need, Tony?” Steve waits, no sign of dread or apprehension of being in debt to your father it seems.

“The people in my Kingdom have begun to grow restless. When they heard about the hidden Princess, they were outraged at my deceit. We had only just begun to settle things with the public when word of your disappearance began to circulate.

“Some of them thought that you’d killed her.” Father tells Steve and your mouth falls open.

“Yes. I heard that rumor too.” Steve agrees.

“What?!” You turn to look at him. “You never said that the rumors were that specific.”

Steve shakes his head at you. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Steve, maybe you should start to let me worry about what’s going to worry me? I don’t need to be coddled.” You snap, frowning up at him.

“I’m sorry.” Steve nods. “I should have told you. But it wasn’t important anymore. I just don’t want to risk anything with our little one on the way.”

He places his hand on your tummy and it’s hard to argue with that reasoning.

“Please don’t exclude me. I’m your wife. Am I not equal to you?” Maybe you aren’t? You don’t know how things work with Broklin. It seemed as if you and Steve were mostly on even footing, but perhaps as Queen your rule is less than his?

“Of course, you are. You’re my Queen. If I’m not around, you will rule in my stead. You are my partner, not my inferior.” He assures you, and it gives you ease of mind to know that he thinks this way.

“I don’t want to feel like you’re hiding things from me.” You sigh.

“You won’t. I’m sorry, petal. Truly.” He caresses the back of your head, hair stroke softly before a clearing of a throat brings your eyes back to your father.

“Is this what you look like when you fight?” He asks, amused for some reason.

“We’re not fighting.” You counter.

“Right…” Father says.

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head. “I interrupted you, please father, continue.”

“There isn’t much more to it.” He shrugs. “The people of Malibia are in desperate need to see their eldest princess, now Queen of Broklin, in the flesh. So, will you come? We’ll make it a grand affair. Parade through the Castle city. Feasts. Dances. Celebrations in the streets. It’ll be extravagant and obnoxious.”

Father’s accompanying smile is almost tempting to refuse. He looks like he’s planning a joke or prank, not a royal procession and day of celebration.

“I have no obligations here at the cottage. I may have to take a few meetings with my councilors, but I am open to it. Y/N?” Steve checks, looking down at you.

Although you’d just told him that you wanted to be his equal, you’re a little surprised to have your input counted.

“I’m always eager to see my family again, and it would be nice to visit my old homeland.” You nod. “I’m willing to if you are my love.”

There’s a look of tempered shock on Steve’s face before his cheeks flush and his ears flare a bright burning red.

“What?” You ask him, amused by the expression on his face but confused by it.

“You’ve never called me that before.” He gushes shyly. “Your love?”

You smile, even more amused by his reasoning. “Well, you are my love. Are you not?”

“Always.” Steve coos.

“Oh, jeez…” Tony groans.

[wangxianficrecs]

❤️We'd roll and fall in green

by x_los

E, 27k, wangxian, 2 works, series in progress

Summary:  The Cloud Recesses Qixi Festival is a bit of a mess this year. Wei Wuxian won't stand for anyone insulting her sister, while Lan Wangji cannot quite work out whether he got married today.

My comments:  Oh. My. Fucking God. I am FUCKING IN LOVE and if this series doesn't continue I shall dream my own varied endings to it until the end of time, I SWEAR.

In which wwx was always a girl, lwj is confused and infatuated and incapable of expressing himself normally (so far the only thing that is different is gender *wink*). But then on a night hunt things get tense, and smex happens (*wipes away sweat and tries to calm breathing*).

AND THAT IS THE END OF WORK 2, series to be continued. I am SIGNED UP FOR THIS.

Writing is gorgeous.

Excerpt 1:  Lan Zhan did some strangely intelligible, still thing with his face that managed to communicate that a lesser man would have rolled his eyes, but that he was not a lesser man.

Wei Wuxian was enraptured with Lan Zhan's peculiar static eye-roll. So cutting! She’d have to get him to tell her how he did it. She doubted she’d be able to pull it off herself, but as a connoisseur of Lan Zhan expressions, she admitted the craftsmanship.

Excerpt 2:  And he wondered whether it meant anything that even in jest, Wei Ying had refrained from suggesting the obvious possibility: that he himself might court Jiang Yanli.

The fact was, Lan Wangji didn’t even know if he would have been free to marry Jiang Yanli if it were asked of him. If he told any of the Lan elders what had happened in the cave today, he knew without doubt that they would tell him he was married, now. Exigency or no, he’d bound their hands with his sacred ribbon before the spiritual tool, before the very person of his revered ancestress—a Clan Leader, besides. He and Wei Ying had made promises. They’d done their bows. Any element of this might have condemned them, and taken together it was akin to accidently building a house and saying that despite the floors and walls and roof and furniture it wasn’t a house at all, because you hadn’t intended to build one.

Excerpt 3:  Some of this is fucking poetry ok:

“Oh Lan Zhan, you’ve exhausted me,” she moaned dramatically. “Have pity on a poor ravished maiden, won’t you?”

He huffed a laugh, lying down beside her and drawing the covers over them both. He felt grown up and masculine, felt a strange, embarrassed, smug pride at having done well, having made Wei Wuxian come so whole-heartedly for him. He felt light-headed to the point of silliness. Wei Wuxian always summoned up such a contradictory symphonic riot of sentiments in him.

“I have many feelings for you. Pity is not among them.” He kissed her temple. “Sleep, Wei Ying.”

genderswap, genderbend, always a girl wei wuxian, female wei wuxian, students at cloud recesses, accidental marriage, light angst, miscommunication, awkwardness, pining, crushes, case fic, murder mystery, horror, road trip, bitchy lan wangji, fluff, getting together, first kiss, first time, loss of v1rginity, competence k1nk, exhaustion, caretaking, self-sacrifice, love confessions, angst, misunderstandings, battle couple, very hot and gorgeous het smex, presumably accidental pregnancy in the future, I will stay tuned, WIP, favorite

(You may wish to REBLOG as a signal boost for this author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[unholyplumpprincess]

The Big Bad Wolf

Commission for @ssadists for Bloodhound and reader with some arena boning and gun play.

Summary: Bloodhound loves to play with their favorite prey (you). Whether in the arena or out of it. You don’t exactly roll over belly up and give yourself, leading them to chase you and deliver a just punishment for your bratty taunting.

Reblogs > Likes. Please have your age (18+ only) in bio before interacting or you will be blocked.

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is written as gn transmasc with a vulva and verbiage being cock/dick/hole, Bloodhound has a vulva and is written with cunt/pussy/clit, Gun play, degradation, light boot humping, light mentions of a breeding kink + god kink

Words: 4.6k

______________

If there was one thing you knew better than anything; It’s that you knew when you were being watched.  

More specifically, when you were being watched by a certain someone who not only you called your lover, but who got a kick out of making a fool of you in the arena.  

Bloodhound’s stare was like no other. Even out of the arena you could sense when their eyes were tracing your figure, feeling this sort of ‘being watched’ feeling coupled with an old primal instinct of prey. Your eyes would flicker around casually looking for the pair of eyes wherever you were, waiting until you caught gold and almost a fire-y iris of their blind eye. And in the arena, sometimes you heard the striking snarl before the soft huffing growls and stomping of boots edged your way.  

Sometimes you got that feeling when you were lying in bed seemingly alone. Sitting up on your elbows and looking around the dark bedroom until you’d get pounced upon by your lover. With their crimson curls all free and framing your face as they sit atop you like a predator. Grinning at your startled squeak and nuzzling their nose to yours with a croon of, “I have caught you again, beloved.”  

Yes, you were quite in tune with that feeling to a certain someone.  

~Rest under the cut~

Today, you feel that familiar crawl up the back of your neck. Something in your body saying that you were being watched- but when you were in the arena of World’s Edge, honestly you expected that feeling.  

There are just a few problems to this feeling.   

One, your team was far ahead of you, noted with one quick glance to the radar on your wrist. You couldn’t even indicate what direction they were facing. You weren’t sure when they took off, but you have a feeling they thought you were a loose end. Hurtful, but fine, you could solo this...maybe. Oooor  maybe you just got distracted looting- in that case, your bad.  

Two, even if you were to ping an enemy- which you haven’t seen yet in the small area you’re at caught between Skyhook and the city- you have a feeling they wouldn’t make it in time. Leading to you dropping with only a kill or two under your belt. Kinda humiliating for the start of the season.  

And finally, the third and final point: You, again, had no idea who and where this person was looking at you from. Well, to be fair, you had an idea of who could be watching you. Just you weren’t sure...where they were. Especially now that you’re tucked into one of the buildings, trying to peek through one of the windows with your own 3x scope to see if anyone was nearby.  

What you didn’t know was that Bloodhound had noticed you treading through the snow a few moments earlier with your teammates going the opposite way. They knew you were easily distractable if you had one thing in mind, so you possibly didn’t hear your teammate’s pinging for you to follow. Instead, you’d wandered around the building and across the train tracks towards the vehicles with your lips seeming to murmur to yourself with the word ‘ammo’ being made out a few times.  

They watched you through their own scope on their Kraber. Keeping a close eye on you as their teammates carefully looted around the city. Bloodhound had kindly told them to loot ahead, as their own loot was sufficient for their hunt. And with newbies nervous and giddy to be with one of the legends, they had quickly agreed and left Bloodhound to crouch on top of the building and watch you.  

They admit, this new outfit made for them for this season was easier to breathe in. The almost skeletal mask and leather tech get up was very breathable, not to mention their respirator had been implemented into the new mask. The costume designer had been quite kind during the whole process. And Bloodhound knew for a fact you liked the outfit as well, considering they had caught your gaze on the dropship quite a few times.  

And your wandering gaze when it was being fitted.  

Sweet little thing you were. Such easy prey made out of you if you were under their weapon. How quickly you would submit once under them. But, oh, they certainly loved the thrill of a chase in the arena. Especially when last round you had the audacity to tease them on your own duo squad. Riling them up until they almost were tempted to make an example out of you in the arena.  

Today...Today they think they will do just that.  

And with that, they squeeze the trigger they had been holding their breath on. Shooting a bullet straight beside your head that makes a loud, thunderous crack from their location and where the bullet hits the wall behind your head. Resounding with a metallic ‘ting’ where it hits a canister on the wall.  

You yelp, throwing yourself quickly to the side and away from the window as your heart races. Kraber. You had been sitting there long enough someone would have had a perfect shot- especially from almost how...close the shot sounded. They should have been able to take your shields in one shot, maybe even could have landed a fatal hit and left you for dead-  

Bloodhound.  

No one else plays with their food like this. Especially in the middle of the arena. Caustic played, sure, but he ensured accuracy and experimentation. Bloodhound liked to tease you in particular- you lost count on how many times they’d liked to play with you beforehand.  

It led to up close and personal matches, making sponsors speculate on the terms of your two’s relationship and closeness. Only few times had you gotten the upper hand on them, but in the end, you were two legends in the arena, fighting for the claim of champion.  

You glance at the open door leading down towards Skyhook. You could slide out there, duck behind cover. Your eyes also flicker to the other side of you, where you could run towards the train tracks and maybe get around to Trainyard where your team seemed to be lingering.  

The resounding crack of their Kraber and the bullet hitting to your left makes you quickly scurry out the door leading through the snow to Skyhook. You scramble to duck behind the cover and feel your heart racing, ears straining over your own heartbeat and waiting to hear any more shots being taken.  

But that’s when you hear a zipline being ridden, the slightly distant  thunking  of boots on metal and then the loud, shocking snarl following the words, “I bathe in the bloth!”  

Aw, fuck.  

You’re taking off quicker, sliding down the snowy hill to get out of there as fast as you can. You have no idea what game they’re trying to play today, or even if this was just an elaborate way to take you down and off you alone. You had been notorious to do that- it would be vengeance well deserved on your part for teasing them.  

You nearly trip on a rock in your hurry to haul ass with a quick left into a building. You nearly don’t get the door closed in time, hearing their body slam against it right behind you. You squeal with nervousness and excitement, taking that brief moment to shoot a glance over your shoulder at them to see the lenses of that skull-like mask are burning bright red. Their breath is louder, like little snarls, and you realize you’re waiting too close to the door when they slam their shoulder into it and it starts to shatter.  

Shit.  

You yelp as you take off again just in time for the door to shatter with their boot kicking it in. You’re zipping through the building, darting out onto the pavement with your chest hurting with your breaths from the chilled air. Briefly you worry in the back of your mind if Bloodhound’s breathing hurts- but you were there when the outfit was fitted and reminded yourself that their respirator was intact.  

You distract yourself with your small worry, finding yourself coming to a dead end of a concrete wall. You could scale it, but you wouldn’t be quick enough. You’d probably be yanked back down.  

You quickly turn your back to it, watching Bloodhound run at you and wait for the opening before running right back at them and sliding to the left of them. You near shout with delight when that works and you hear them like out a frustrated snarl as they come to the dead end and whip around to face you at the other end.  

You can’t help it, grinning at their frustration and holding your thumbs to your temples, wiggling your hands back and forth and, much like a child, going, “Na na  na , can’t catch me! Too slow, Hound!”  

Which...is not very bright of you at all.  

Even with the lenses covering their eyes, you know you fucked up big time when you watch them reach up and click off their communication device. It ensures no one on audio capture could have their voice, nor could their team communicate back to them save for the visuals they got. You have a feeling you should turn yours off too- but that had to be admitting defeat right then and there, right?  

“We shall see, beloved.” They call back to you, their voice lower than normal, almost like every word was a growl promising wicked things to you. “The wolf hungers for their prey, and my little rabbit shall not escape so easily.”  

Oh...  

Oh, that did things to you.  

You almost think about standing there and rolling belly up. Maybe going ‘oh yes please’ but instinct overwhelms you when they bolt at you once again. You ‘eep’ in a way you won’t admit to later, quickly turning left and around the dead end so you could bolt more through Skyhook. You debate going to their trials, starting up the prowlers and forcing them to be paused to ensure the elimination of the beasts. It would be an easy enough distraction.  

If it wasn’t all the way on the other side of Skyhook.  

Your eyes flicker to one of the buildings, the bigger one just under the train tracks. If you could run inside and fake them out by hiding behind the building near the mountains in the fallen rocks, maybe you could escape? It sounds like their ultimate is starting to die down, no longer hearing the snarls chasing behind you, you could maybe-  

The small light of hope, and you’re running harder in that direction. Quick to push open one of those doors and race to the side to get behind the building. But, they’re hot on your tail, so close you don’t even get to push the door shut before they’re tackling you.  

You yelp as you go rolling with them into the shaded area behind a rock, quickly squirming and kicking, managing to get them off you and stand up to try and make a break for it.  

Your ankle is caught and you’re yanked near face down if you hadn’t caught yourself on your forearms. Your leg is yanked until you zip back on the grass- which you can only assume from an outward point of view looks hysterical and something out of a horror movie- and find yourself flat on your back.   

Bloodhound doesn’t let you escape this time, climbing onto you, straddling your hips, knees pressing down onto the backs of your hands and ensuring you stay under them. Once you gain your bearings and your dotted vision had ceased, you go to try and move your trapped hands to maybe get a push on them to at least fight back. But quickly find your vision on the other end of the barrel of their Kraber.  

Well. Fuck.  

They hold it steady in their hands, cocked perfectly in front of your face and your heart racing in your chest. You can practically hear the smirk in Bloodhound’s voice as they mock your words from earlier, “Caught you. Seems you were the one too slow, litli kanína.” Yet the gun does not move from your face, keeping your full attention on it as your breathing comes out shaky. Both from running such a distance, and the fact you see their finger over the trigger.  

And you don’t think the safety is on.  

“Nothing to say?” They croon down at you, purposefully tilting the Kraber ever so slightly just to watch your eyes follow. “What has happened to your taunting earlier, beloved?”  

You swallow thickly when they pause for just a moment, bringing the weapon closer until the thick barrel touches your lips. The cool metal ghosting against your quivering lips as you let out a shaky breath through your nose, eyes flickering from the gun to Bloodhound’s mask where you can’t make out any of their facial expression.   

“H-Hound-” You try to whimper out, coming out a little muffled with the barrel against your lips. You watch as their head tilts at their name, unable to figure out if they’re looking at you or looking down the sights of their weaponry.  

“Open your mouth.”  

“Wh-”  

“Open. Your mouth.” Bloodhound growls this one out this time, and you hear it clearly. Parting your lips until the barrel catches your bottom lip. You quickly get the picture, parting your lips further until the barrel rests between your lips, feeling your body shaking in what you can’t figure out if it’s fear or arousal.  

Probably both.  

“Good pup. If you keep obeying, perhaps you shall receive a treat from your god, hm?” Their voice is low, you could have assumed they weren’t pissed from your earlier antics. Perhaps this was the treat, you think, as your body shakes in fear at the idea that they could pull the trigger at any moment. You carefully figure out how to lick your way across the barrel, whining through your nose when they force it deeper, knocking lightly against your teeth with the metal.  

With one hand steady underneath the gun and stopping their touch on the trigger, you’re unable to see where their other hand goes. Until you feel leather clad fingers reaching under your shirt. Your breath stutters, going to pull your head back and managing to succeed when their hand gently cups your chest, smoothing a thumb just underneath at your scarring. Before they move upwards to pinch and tug at your pierced nipple.  

You whine their name, only to find that the weapon is quickly back on your mouth and they’re pinching ever so slightly harder. In a way that makes you yelp and open your mouth back up so they can press the barrel back between your lips and making your jaw ache from being held open so long.  

“Hold still. Do not speak. Or I shall put a bullet between your pretty eyes, do you understand me?” Bloodhound’s voice is a low threat, releasing your nipple and moving to the other to give it the same treatment until you give out a high whine and try your hardest to nod. Thankfully they take the hint, smoothing over the harsh pinch with their thumb until your hips are trying to buck up into theirs for any sort of friction.  

You hate to admit it, but, God, you loved when they treated you rough.  

Your cock is already engorged in your pants, rubbing achingly against the fly of your pants. You ache to be able to grind against their thigh, or even be able to hold their delicious ass and keep them still so you could rut against them pathetically. You wonder if you could whine and beg your way into an orgasm.  

Or maybe if you put on a show for them, they’d spare mercy.  

You move to make your motions more enjoyable and pleasing to watch on the barrel of their gun by moving your head back. You lick along the metal in a clean swipe, kissing at it and parting your lips to take it again with a low moan. Treating it as if you would treat them with open mouthed, hot kisses followed by a longing lick and a soft kiss pressed to the barrel. You don’t fear being shot when their hand is busy essentially groping you and keeping your interest, because it no longer rests on the trigger.  

“Please-” You whine out with your lips smoothing across the barrel, knowing how much they loved to hear you plead. Your hips press upwards into theirs, seeking friction they won’t let you have when Bloodhound pulls their hips up ever so slightly and away from yours. You whine in misery, despite them thumbing your nipple and sending little shocks through your body. “Please, please, I want more-”  

“I thought you were told not to speak, little one?” Bloodhound once again reminds you, making fear strike down your body. The gun is instead set to the side of you, and you wonder if they’ll spare mercy for your disobedience until two of their gloved fingers are pressed into your mouth. They press down on your tongue, making you drool around the smoothness of the leather and keeping your jaw open. Only making your whine sound that the much louder to yourself.  

“Mmh. I wonder how far my squad is?” Bloodhound starts to speak, sliding their fingers back further into your mouth and easing on the pressure so you can close your mouth. They press deep enough for you to remember your lessons to breathe through your nose so you don’t choke, your hips bucking upwards and near sobbing through your nose. “Perhaps we should find them, hm? How pathetic and needy a little thing you are- you may get your mouth filled on camera, that shall surely teach you to keep quiet.”  

You moan. You hate to admit it but you moan at the thought. The idea of Bloodhound’s fingers fisted in your hair, forcing you to take someone’s cock in your throat and do it on camera in front of everyone at home watching. You imagine them mocking you for enjoying it, maybe pressing their boot between your thighs and calling you pathetic and shameless. Your cock throbs in your pants, feeling the distinct pulsing of arousal as you moan around their fingers.  

“Or perhaps that is a reward for you?” Bloodhound slides their fingers from your mouth, sitting up on your lap and you near about start to beg again before they casually remove the first layer of bulky armor from their top. The cheeky, padded armor of ‘VNNA’ being set to the side, followed by them leaning back to stand briefly as they start to undo the fly of their pants. “I think I have something to keep you quiet, little one. Hold still.”  

You think you’ve never seen them hotter than when they stand to strip their pants off and boots, left in their socks and upper clothing with just their mastiff slung on their back. Your mouth waters at the sight of them in the sun, their legs and cunt revealed feeling more like a present than anything.  There’s  dark red curls between their thighs, darker at the lips and clearly wet. Their fat, engorged clit already peeking from their lower lips and making your mouth water at the sight.  

It makes it even more thrilling when you remember you’re in the arena. The announcer overhead reminding you with a, “Ring moving.” and thanking everything in you that you two were inside the ring. But that meant you had to be quick, because if the ring was coming this way, people were sure to follow. Thankfully, you knew no cameras lingered around the outskirts, so that eliminated the worry of being caught on national news. The drones being more eager to catch the action of full squads than two lingering ‘solos’.  

Leather gloved fingers curl into your hair and yank your head back as Bloodhound moves on top of you. Resting a thigh on either side of your face and you eagerly inhale their scent as they get comfortable. You immediately curl your arms around their powerful thighs, your nails pressing to their flesh as they pull your hair harder, causing you to moan out and part your lips.  

You go to speak, maybe tell them that they look beautiful, but quickly second guess speaking. You’re aching in your pants, probably trying to soak through the thick layers at this point, and at this rate you can only hope that they’ll spare you even a quick jerk off before they either take you out. Or leave you on your own.  

Bloodhound must notice when you seem to quickly avoid speaking, because the harsh hand in your hair turns to them lightly raking their fingers through with a, “Good dog.” Cooed from their lips before they settle atop you. You can’t help but moan as you eagerly nose at their lower lips, licking them from hole to clit just like they like and just to feel them throb under your tongue.  

You didn’t think you riled them up too much with the gun play, but the chase probably aided because they’re just as wet as you think you are. You sigh through your nose as you squeeze their thighs, urging them to put their full weight onto you instead of straining to sit upright. They wouldn’t kill  you,  you’d tried telling them quite a few times even that you’d be glad to be suffocated this way.  

With your urging, Bloodhound finally, cautiously applies all their weight to you. Allowing for you to reach them better as you quickly move to their clit. Latching on gently to suckle and work your tongue over them in a circular way, focusing more pressure on the base so you could lick from root to tip hungrily. They seem to appreciate it, soft sighs and grunts leaving them as their thighs tense. You knew they were sensitive, on the occasions they would allow you to touch them, they tended to cum quickly.  

Your hips roll and buck into nothing with the movements of your own tongue without shame. Their noises are quiet, and you wish so badly you could hear them without the muffle of their mask, or even see their face. But the sounds alone make you clench around nothing. Bloodhound must notice your movements too, because you’re getting your hair pulled again, pulling you back ever so slightly until you’re sobbing and away from their cunt.  

“Look at how shameless you are, my love,” They breathe out, watching as you try to squirm your way into getting your mouth on them again. You don’t even pay attention, not until they’re pressing their hips close enough for you to at least get your tongue to flick over them. High off the way they gasp and their hips stutter. “Pathetic and  mine. You are mine. ”  

You nod quickly in agreement with a whimper, parting your lips when they hold you firmly. They move their hips closer, allowing you to suckle on their clit and brace yourself as they start to hump your face. Both of their hands find their way into your hair, pressing at your skull to ensure you stay right where they put you. You’re almost tempted to move a hand from their thigh to jerk yourself off in time, but you have a feeling you might lose that hand if you tried.  

Bloodhound’s scent is overwhelming on your nose and your tongue. Hearing how their breath hitches, tapering off into soft, quiet growls with each breath exhaling from them. The telltale sound that they’re close. They’re losing focus on the grip of your hair, and you take the opportunity to move one of your hands from their thighs, the other moving to grip their ass to pull them up ever so slightly. They continue humping your face, growling out things in their native tongue that you can make out in English of things like ‘Want to breed you’ ‘my little whore’ ‘mine’.  

You fit your hand under them and sink two fingers inside of them. Curling them forward in time with their humps until their soft growling turns into a loud cry. Their hips slam forward against your face, grinding against your eager tongue as you quickly pound your fingers inside of them. Bloodhound makes the sweetest of sounds at the motions, their thighs quivering and the hands in your hair pulling until it starts to hurt.  

You only stop when they pull your head away with a satisfied huff, gently pulling your fingers out of them so you could bring them to your mouth. You ensure they’re watching, their own head lightly tilted and lenses focused on you as you lick and suckle your fingers clean. Looking at the lenses covering their eyes with your own half lidded as a moan leaves you. “Fuck, you taste so good, Hound.”  

“You are insatiable.” Bloodhound laughs softly back. Their voice breathless as they move off of you. You get the full pleasure of watching them bend over to grab their pants, licking your lips and almost asking them to have another seat. That you’d make it just as quick-  

The sound of gunfire in the distance seems to perk you both up. You can’t help the whine as you lie on the ground still, pulling yourself up onto your elbows and pouting up at them. “What about me?” You practically whine out, using a bratty tone that catches their attention instantly as they sling their Kraber over their shoulder.  

“What about you, ástin mín ?” Bloodhound mocks back, taking a few steps until they stand between your legs. You’re about to speak when their boot presses between your thighs, applying light pressure to your cock that makes your head turn with a cry. Pressing your hips up into their boot with a sob near leaving you. You can practically hear the grin in their voice as they use a mock sympathetic voice, “Aw, aumingja litla bráð, you have lost this round. No reward for second place.”  

For good measure, they gently rock their boot just to make you pound your fist against the ground. Five seconds, you tell yourself, five seconds is all you need as you start to hump their boot. But they don’t even allow you pleasure of two seconds when they move away and make you cry out like the brat you feel like right now.  

“Perhaps later I shall deliver a proper punishment to you.” They promise as they turn your back to you and turn their comms back online. Leaving you to lie there with their taste and scent lingering on you. You’re dizzily aroused, thinking about jerking off behind the boulder alone until you hear someone in your comms fizzle into existence.  

“There you are, skinsuit. Thought you offed yourself before the fun could even begin.” Comes the gruff, snarling tone on the other end. You do a quick glance to your radar to see their arrows headed your way, groaning to yourself as you get up off the ground on shaky feet and click your comms back on to reply.  

“Sorry,” You croak out, your voice hoarse and shaky. “Ran into...ran into some company.”  

“Like the big bad wolf?” Teases another voice over the radio. You flush at Makoa’s tone, praying that Bloodhound’s scent wasn’t obvious to anyone but yourself as you start to jog in their direction to get back into the game.  

Yeah.  

Definitely like the big bad wolf.  

[superconfusedandreadytorumble]

It is the 23rd July, 2021. The summer heats have finally subsided, the morrows now cool giving us normal folk the ability to catch a breather before the work begins anew. The harvest is-

Yeah no, enough of this. It is the day it is but truth be told all this post is supposed to be is an answer to my darling @laninlurks who has tagged me back in March and did not even have the decency to tell me personally! Yeah girl, how dare you! You know I´m not tech-savvy, I´m old. Well at least I feel like it in my head...

So here I go, playing this little game (this is considered a game, right? I have absolutely no idea. I´ve seen this kind of “introduce yourself” thingies here on tumblr but this is the first time I´m participating. Thanks again LANIN!)

Well, let´s get over this:

Name/Nickname: uhhhhh... Yeah, no I know how this goes. Name equals power so you fae can forget it, I ain´t buying this. You shall have no power over me. Ha! As if I´d fall for such a cheap trick. Hahaha! Nah, but on a serious note I really did not think of anything what people coul call me here... I guess Superconfused works?

Gender: female

Height: 5´8″ (thank you Google for converting cm to feet and inches)

Time: 2.55pm

Favourite Bands: Okay, let me stop you guys right there. I´m not going to go posting a ton of different band names because my music taste is very eclectic and most of the time I either do not know the name of the song/band that I´m into. If I hear it and my brain starts projecting a story it´s a good song for me.

Favourite solo artist: *looks up to the previous point* Yeah, you guys get the message

Song stuck in my head: Ohhh now that is easy! It is currently a mix between “A whole new World” from Aladdin (1992), “Save your Tears” by The Weekend feat. Ariana Grande, “Plastic Hearts” by Miley Cyrus and “Racing into the Night” by YOASOBI

Last Movie: The Avengers: Endgame

Last Show: Loki

When did I create this blog: Good heavens, I have absolutely no idea... Lanin, you´ll probably know that... can I check this somewhere? Somehow? Eh... let´s leave it at that, I have no  clue... may have been 2 or 3 years ago

How it started: After ages of going around and sending myself link after link so I would not lose sight of great posts and until my email inbox was full, I finally decided to make myself an account. That is it. That´s the story.

How´s it going: *looks around* Good, I guess? I mean, I´m still here, so...

What I post: Ufffffffff. Everything and anything that touches or inspires me, I guess? The content here that I reblog is as eclectic as my music tastes. We got witchy stuff, fandom stuff, quotes, life lessons, you name it. I did finally get around to making an additional blog to reblog all of the wonderful pieces of fan content here and leave a comment because till now I have been very neglectful of that. But that is another story...

Aesthetic: Personal? Blog related? I have absolutely no idea... Next question please.

Last thing I googled: That would be the conversion of cm to feet, but if that does not count then it was an anatomical picture of the hymen. There was a conversation ging on in the family and I had to explain the location. It was much easier with visuals, I tell you.

Other blogs: And I just mentioned mine two paragraphs ago xD Well then there´s the @studyblr-beginner where I try to collect info on how to be a more productive student (with mixed efforts I might add) and the @stillconfusedandreadytorumble .

Following: Anything witchblr, studyblr, any blog that feeds into my current obsession of any fandom, cottagecore, academia be it light/romantic/dark, quotes, art, etc. Seriously, anything...

Followers: Eh, I think 2 or 3 poor misguided souls... Yeah, okay so I checked and apparently there´s 44 of you. 44!!!! Like guys, guys, are you okay? What are you doing here? Not that I´m not grateful but I´m also very very VERY confused right now... Hi?

Average sleep: 7 hours, if I have time to sleep in even more

Lucky number: I do not really believe in that... Although if I see a platenumber with three identical numbers beside each other I take it as a good omen

Instruments: I may have tried to learn the piano years ago but it was never really my thing

What I am wearing: an oversized shirt with the wolf medallion logo form “The Witcher” series, black shorts and a dark green dressing gown with flowers and pretty little humming birds. Yes, I´m in my sleep wear. No, I am not ashamed. The last couple of days have been hell, I´m still recuperating.

Dream job: Physician, and I´m working hard to get that damn doctors degree.

Favourite animal noise: wolves howling. That moment when it sends chills down your back, when the hairs on your arms stand? Love it and it gets me every time.

Random: If asked a question I start stuttering and mumbling and warbled bla-bla just comes out of my mouth until I try collecting my thoughts. That may take a couple of seconds though.

Dream trip: Japan, Prague, Venice, these three are from the top of my head but otherwise I´d like to travel and see the world. Yes, vague, I know but the world is big and nobody has time to write long lists about this.

Favourite food: Dumplings. Do not, I repeat, do not make me specify which dumplings cause I´ll eat or at least ry them all if given the change. I already diviate from my normal answer of “There is so much good stuff out there, I could never choose”, okay?

Nationality: Welp, before I make this any more complicated I´ll just stick to what is in my passport: AUSTRIAN 

Favourite song: May I refer you back to the paragraph that says Favourite Band/solo singer, please and thank you.

Last book I read: “Alice´s Adventures in Wonderland” by Lewis Carroll

Top 3 fictional universes I would like to live in: Currently it would be either Lord of the Rings, Witcher or Boku no hero academia. Ask me in 3 months and I bet with you that answer might have changed again.

Tagging: Oh boy... who am I supposed to tag that will not shoot me on sight or think of me being a total lunatic, @laninlurks you don´t count, after all you put me in this mess... Who are the last couple of ppl I had a conversation with? Oh okay, if you guys don´t want to do this, just scratch and ignore that but then again all of my 44 followers are very welcome to do this (still can´t warp my head around the amount of ppl). I´ll just tagg @lostoctaviaaugusta and @thewhit3w0lf , but again please don´t shoot on sigth. I promise I´m harmless.

Okay guys, whoever made it this far, I applaud you, cause really you deserve a medal. thank you for reading I guess and have a wonderful day.

Hugs and kisses!

[ijustreallylovezebras]

The Selection - Two

Pairing: Tom Holland x Royal!Reader

Summary: It wasn’t her selection, not her choice, and yet when she saw him she couldn’t help herself, she fell in love

Chapter Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This is part two!! I really hope you guys enjoy this, I’m loving writing it so much!! I kinda love Lucas, not gonna lie haha! Please remember to let me know what you think - like, reblog, comment, send asks. I love hearing what you guys think, it really inspires me to write more! The tag list is open but I will only being accepting tag requests when they are sent to my ASK BOX, comments and reblogs will NOT be counted

DISCLAIMER - THIS IS BASED OFF OF THE SELECTION SERIES BY KIERA KASS

When Y/N entered into the dining hall the next morning for breakfast, the group of Selected were already present.

All of them appeared nervous and uncomfortable, most of them starred at their hands as Y/N walked in. A couple offered shy smiles and Y/N desperately tried to recall their names. She noticed Tom at the end of the table, one of the few who didn’t shrink under her gaze and even offered her a smile. Y/N couldn’t help but return it before walking to the end of the table, where her family normally sat.

Though they were nowhere in sight yet.

Awkward silence filled the room and Y/N wondered if she ought to speak, to say something to fill in the gaps left by the absence of her family. She wondered if she was allowed to speak to them yet.

“I trust you all slept well?” She asked finally, once the silence became completely unbearable. There were a couple of murmurs of agreement and Y/N nodded, trying to stay composed despite wanting to run out of the room.

She wasn’t used to people being in the castle who weren’t her family. Y/N let out an audible sigh of relief when her brothers entered.

Jason had an easy-going smile on his face as he entered the room, nodding to a couple of the candidates as they met his eyes and he raised his eyebrows at Y/N’s seemingly terrified expression. Lucas, on the other hand, merely looked bored.

“You look terrified,” Jason murmured into her ear as he sat next to her. A small smile crossed Y/N’s features and she shook her head at him.

“Probably because I am,” she replied, the simple response causing him to laugh quietly. The well-rehearsed, discreet laugh that all of them had had to learn when they were young.

“This is boring, when can we eat?” Lucas huffed. He had not yet mastered the skill of being quiet around others and his words carried. Y/N noticed some of The Selected trying to bite back laughter, looking down at their laps as their eyes crinkled at the edges from the young boy’s impatience. Y/N hated that her eyes were drawn to Tom and she despised the way her heart flipped when she saw him laughing.

Though the laughter was cut off by the doors opening again. The whole room fell silent at the entrance of the King and Queen, accompanied by Allison and rose to their feet. Well, the whole room excluding Lucas, who let out a sigh before also reluctantly standing

Y/N couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of relief that he may be able to eat soon, or one of exasperation at the dramatics of the situation.

Either way she elbowed her brother to signal for him to be quiet. All she got in response was a glare and a stamp on the foot.

“Prick,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Bitch,” Lucas retorted, a smug smile on his face. Y/N bit her lip in a desperate attempt to hide her laughter, though her cover was blown when she met Allison’s gaze and her sister rose a single eyebrow.

A giggle escaped Y/N’s lips and she felt the blood rush to her face as she lifted her hands to cover her mouth, attempting to school her face to be more serious.

“Please sit,” the King ordered, reaching the head of the table.

“Finally,” Lucas muttered, reaching forwards to grab a pastry before the royals could say anything more.

Murmurs of conversation broke out amongst both the Selected and the Royals. Y/N and her family were sat away from the table the men were at, on a platform elevated above theirs in a blatant attempt to show their importance.

“Sir Nicolas,” Allison’s voice carried over both tables, quieting them down. The man referred to shot his head up to look at Y/N’s older sister. “I trust you like the coffee?” A nervous smile spread across Nicolas’ face and he nodded.

“Yes, Your Highness, very much so,” he agreed. Y/N searched her mind desperately for any reason why Allison would have singled Nicolas out for the question.

“Is he the guy whose family owns a coffee shop?” Y/N questioned, her voice quiet as she murmured the words into Jason’s ear. Her brother shrugged.

“How should I know?” Y/N couldn’t resist rolling her eyes.

When breakfast drew to a close, the King stood from the table.

“I just wanted to say a few more words now that the rest of my family are here,” he announced, quieting down the final few dregs of conversation that remained in the room. “While my family and I wish to welcome you with the most open arms, there are some rules that must be abided by that we did not wish to burden you with last night in your sleep deprived states,” there was a kind smile on his face and a chuckle rolled through the room. Y/N’s eyes found Tom’s and there was a sparkle in his gaze that caused her heart to flip again.

“The Women’s Room is completely out of bounds for all of you, unless you have been explicitly invited by one from inside - that also applies to Lucas,” he gave his youngest son a hard stare that caused another wave of laughter to roll through the room, “Jason and I. As well as this, the second floor is off limits - that is where our private chambers are and anyone caught there shall be severely punished,” the statement was met with silence from the group.

The King looked at Y/N, his face softening. “The Library must also be treated with the utmost respect. Should any of my children,” the way his eyes were still fixed on Y/N showed all of the Selected who he was referring to. “Wish you to leave, you must do some immediately,” he coughed into his hand, ripping his gaze away from his daughter. “That goes for any place in the Palace,” he added. “If any of you are caught bothering any of my children then you will be asked to take immediate leave from the premises, is that clear?” The final question was met with nods from all around the table and the King gave a stiff one in response. “Good, then I look forward to spending more time with all of you in the coming weeks.”

Y/N rose from her chair after her father left and Lucas did the same, though his exit caused a screech to echo around the room as his chair squealed backwards. Y/N tried to hide her laughter as she left the dining hall with her brother.

“So… that was fun,” the teenage boy mentioned, kicking his feet on the ground as he walked.

“I guess that’s one word for it,” Y/N agreed and Lucas looked at her, a sly grin on his face.

“What would you use?” He asked.

“Awkward?” She offered and Lucas laughed, nodding.

“That’s fair,” he agreed.

“What are your plans for today?” Lucas let out an annoyed sigh.

“Madame Blanche said I have to have extra French lessons because I suck,” Y/N giggled, imagining those words coming from the stern French tutor all four of them had been taught by.

“Well… you kinda do, Luke.” Lucas glared at her.

“I know all the French, Y/N/N - Bonjour, salut, au revoir - see?”

“Ah yes, you’re basically fluent,” Y/N deadpanned.

“Alright then, Miss High and Mighty,” Y/N shook her head in despair at her brother’s words, “what are your plans for the day then?”

“First things first, you sound about eighty when you say that,” Lucas pulled a face and Y/N pushed him playfully. “I’ll probably just go hide in the Women’s Room,” she decided with a shrug.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met?” Lucas inquired.

“Bugger off and do your French,” Y/N scolded. Lucas laughed but hurried off in the direction of the schooling room, where Madame Blanche was sure to be waiting for him.

Y/N turned down the hallway to the Women’s Room, not looking where she was going as she walked. She collided with a body, falling to the ground.

“Oh my God! Your Highness! I’m so sorry!” Y/N had a feeling she’d recognise that voice anywhere. Her head turned up to face Tom’s worried eyes and she shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it, Sir Thomas, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she waved him off but Tom grimaced and offered his hand before hesitating.

“Wait, am I allowed to touch you?” He asked, sending Y/N into a fit of giggles.

“I think that would be okay,” she promised as her laughter died down, fitting her hand into Tom’s and allowing him to help her back to her feet. “Thank you, Sir Thomas.”

“Not at all, Your Highness,” Tom breathed out, somewhat staring at Y/N. She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Well… I, uh, I should be going,” she said, nodding her head in the direction that Tom had just come from and the Selected man nodded, his face growing red as he moved out of her way.

“Yeah, of course, sorry Your Highness,” Y/N grinned a little at his shyness.

“That’s alright, Sir Thomas.”

[summahsunlight]

Worth the Risk, Part 8

Rating: Mature(18+only)

Word Count: 1881

Pairing: Army Pilot!Poe Dameron x Nurse!Reader (1940s AU)

Summary: It’s the 1940s, Army pilot and Captain Poe Dameron is flying on missions for the United States Army in Europe.  After being shot down off the coast of France, Poe wakes up in an Army hospital in England, to find you, a nurse, taking care of him. Throughout the process of his recovery, Poe finds himself falling for you, and even though you, for the most part, maintain a professional relationship with him–you’re falling for him as well. Both of you know the risks of falling in love during a war, but then again, both of you have never cared much for being cautious.

Warnings:  Angst, swearing, Ben Solo makes a cameo appearance

Taglist: @fanfic-addict-98, @thescarletknight2014, @blushingwueen, @americasass-romanoff, @ginger-swag-rapunzel​, @spider-starry​, @totelpoedameron​, @captain-america5​, @liadamerondjarin​, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess​

Taglist is still open! Let me know if you would like to be added☺️This time Reader is played by Haley Atwell. As always, likes, asks, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I love to hear your thoughts, so please don’t be shy❤️

Three weeks had passed since Poe rejoined the Army, but to you it felt more like a lifetime. You hadn’t heard from him since he left and you suspected you wouldn’t hear from him for a while; the mail was incredibly slow during war. Never-the-less, you checked each day to see if Poe had sent you a letter--in between preparing your unit of nurses for deployment. 

Hux was even more prickly than normal. Many of the nurses stayed clear of him, but you, being in charge of the nurses had to deal with him on a daily basis. You dealt with it though because you wanted your nurses to be prepared for the mission to France. Everyone was anxious and on edge-- Hux were just being downright cruel. 

You tolerated it because you were afraid if you said anything, Hux would inform the Army of your relationship with Poe and ship you back to America. You were more helpful here in Europe--so you kept your mouth shut. And when you knew Hux wasn’t around, you would take out the photograph you had of Poe and look at it, longingly. 

There was a void inside your soul without Poe around. You missed his arms around you, you missed the way he would gently kiss your nose when he thought you were being adorable; you missed his hand in yours as you walked around the hospital grounds. All you could do for now was pray that he was safe and that he stayed safe in the coming days. 

It was that night, you got your first letter from Poe. Locking yourself in your room, you read it, holding tightly to the photograph of Poe you kept with you at all times.

May 16, 1944

My darling, I miss you more than words can say. Being back at the barracks, with my boys is surreal. It was like being with you was a dream that I was forced to wake up from I know that this is where I need to be, that my country needs me to fight the tyranny that is Germany--but my heart just longs to be with you.

The boys keep making fun of me, of course. It’s all in good nature. I don’t mind it, really. They need an outlet, they need an escape from the hell that our lives have become since entering this war. Although, I did threaten Arana I was going to tell lies about him so you wouldn’t want to set him up with any of your friends. For now, that seems to have shut him up. I know that they mean and everyone is on edge with the talk of invading Normandy.

I keep hearing that the next mission might be the most important one we’ve undertaken to date. Some are saying that it we take Normandy, we’ll win the war. God, I hope they are right. I’m so tired of fighting in this war, sweetheart. I just want to go home--I want to take you home with me to meet my father. I think he’d loved you. Actually, I know he would love you.

Stay strong, love. I know I don’t have to say it to you because you are the strongest person I know, but it never hurts to hear it. I love you, I love you so much. One day, we’ll be together again. 

All my heart,

Poe

You closed your eyes, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks. Absentmindedly your fingers reached up to the chain around your neck and slid down to find the ring hanging off the end. It might be days before you heard any news on Poe and if he had survived the invasion. 

Finding some paper, you wrote back to him. Unlike Poe, you were able to let him know what was going on, that your unit was going to be deployed to France once the beaches of Normandy were secure. Of course, you understood that those words held a false sense of security. Enemy forces could still attack while your unit was treating wounded there. It was much more dangerous being on the frontlines than in a hospital, but for some men, medics and nurses on the frontlines were the best hope for survival.

It’s quiet here without you, my love. Please stay safe for me. I love you so, so, so much. You pressed your lips to the paper, leaving a perfect red impression of your lips there. Come back to me, Poe. 

Placing your letter in an envelope, you addressed it to him and put it down on your desk to mail in the morning.

Folding his letter up, you placed it in the jewelry box that you kept his photo in at night, along with some dried up flowers he had given you. Snapping the lid shut, you hugged the box to your chest. You had gone to church every Sunday with your parents as a child, but after everything you had seen you constantly questioned the existence of God. If he was there, if he was listening, then you prayed to him that he’d keep your pilot safe.

“Y/N?” Rey’s voice said on the other side of your door. “Are you in there?”

“Yes!” you called, putting the box down and wiping your tears.

“Can I come in?” “Yes, it’s unlocked.”

Rey stepped into your room. She gave you a sad look, like she knew you had been reading Poe’s letter and missing him. “I doubled checked all our supplies; we’re ready to leave when the Army gives us the okay.”

Slowly you nodded. “Listen, Rey,” you said, softly, unable to look her in the eyes. “I think you’re a wonderful nurse, but the Army is only sending my enlisted unit. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I just found out. Hux informed me. Only enlisted nurses are going to the front lines, not civilian ones.”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “But I want to help! I can’t go just because I’m not a member of the U.S Army?”

“It’s not like you won’t be needed here.”

“But I want to go with you and Jessika; I want to go with my friends.”

“Please, Rey, don’t make this harder...”

“I thought you trusted me?”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “I do Rey, but you’re a civilian nurse; you didn't sign up for the dangers of treating the wounded on the frontlines.”

Rey glared at you, furiously, before opening your door and slamming it shut in your face. You were left standing in your room, fists clenched, and hating yourself for how you had told her. You should have told her the moment you found out but you knew she’d be angry. She was passionate about helping, but because she was a civilian she wasn’t going to be allowed to go to the frontlines.

Part of you was happy about this. Rey was nineteen. She shouldn’t be going to the frontlines. There were already enough young men her age dying, you hated to think about the same happening to Rey.

That night you night you fell asleep, crying; crying over how far away Poe was, crying for Rey and crying because you knew the horrific future that was a head of you when you left for France.

----

“Dameron, wake up,” Snap said, shaking him.

“What’s going on?” Poe mumbled, opening his eyes. 

“Time to go.”

Poe quickly got out of bed. His crew had been preparing for this mission for the last three weeks. Looking at maps, training runs--but the day had finally arrived. June 5, 1944.  There mission was to fly paratroopers to a drop sight in Normandy over night, so the troops could be begin securing important locations prior to the invasion beginning in the morning. It had already been delayed a day, so Poe and the rest of his crew had been catching up on sleep in anticipation of flying overnight.

Slipping into his leather flight jacket, Poe followed Snap outside of the barracks towards the planes being fueled up for their trip. The captain of the paratrooper until that they were in charge of flying to Normandy stepped forward. “You the pilot?”

Nodding, Poe glanced at the boys loading his plane. Lord, some of them couldn’t be more than eighteen, nineteen years old. “I am. Captain Poe Dameron,” he said, introducing himself. “Welcome aboard my crew.”

“Captain Ben Solo,” the other man said, shaking his hand. “Get us to Normandy, Dameron, and you have a friend for life in us.”

“Gonna do my best,” Poe said, firmly. “I can’t promise a smooth ride; weather hasn’t been great over France the last few days--but I’ll get you there.”

Solo gave him a soft grin before boarding the plane himself. Snap glanced at Poe with a shake of his head. “And they say we’re the crazy ones for flying--what possess a man to strap a parachute on and willingly jump from a moving plane?”

Poe laughed and pat his friend on the back. He climbed into the cockpit of their C-47. His crew consisted of Snap, Iolo and a their radio operative, a young man from Oklahoma that Snap had affectionately nicknamed kid. “Ready?” he asked his crew.

Snap gave him a thumbs up. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Arana chimed in, “Let’s go leave the German’s a little surprise, shall we?”

His radio operative nodded and said he was just waiting to hear the word that they were given clearance to take-off.

Grinning, Poe started the plane up. He touched the photograph of you he had taped to his panels. He took a deep breath. This was his first mission since the crash and he felt butterflies in his stomach. If he crashed this time, there was so much more at stake--his crew, the paratroopers--you. He couldn’t fail. “Sweetheart,” he whispered to your photograph. “I love you. This is for you.”

“You alright, Dameron?” Snap asked, noticing his eyes on your photo.

“Yeah. Just hope I see her again,” Poe sighed.

“Hey, you will.”

“Wish I had your faith, Snap.”

“I have to tell myself that every time I get in the cockpit--that I will see Karé again. Otherwise, I’m scared shitless about what’s to come.” 

“Even if I think I’ll see her again, I’m still scared shitless, Snap. This invasion is going to make or break our chances for victory. And if we don’t win--I don’t want to think about what happens if we don’t win.”

Snap was silent. The truth was that he had the same fears as Poe. He gave the younger man a long, sad look before patting Poe confidently on the shoulder. 

Poe set his jaw. Yes, he was terrified, but he knew that they had a job to do. Glancing around at his crew, they were depending on him to get them back to the barracks safely. And the paratroopers, they were depending on this crew to pull through and get them to Normandy. 

The world was depending on them.

“Captain,” the radio operative said, “we’ve been given permission to take off.”

“Alright boys,” Poe said as he eased the plane onto the runway, “Let’s do this.”

[bibliothesoph]

For a prompt, maybe #20 (“It’s okay, it was just a mistake.”) from that prompt list u reblogged a while ago 😄

misperception

When Henry finally stumbles into the brownstone after a long, hard day at the shelter, he’s more than excited to cozy up to Alex and feel safe in his arms. He’s expecting to smell something delicious being made in the kitchen by his gorgeous boyfriend who happens to be a fantastic cook. Since they’ve both been pretty tired and busy this week and it’s a Friday night, maybe he’s also expecting––or hoping for, at any rate––for Alex to be cooking in nothing but one of those aprons Henry keeps buying him for the sole purpose of seeing the apron being the only thing between him and a truly naked Alex. Maybe Alex will be in the kitchen in the apron and have a bottle of wine already open, sipping on it while he stirs something around in a pot or something. Maybe he’ll turn towards Henry with red-stained lips and a smug smile on his beautiful face to welcome Henry home and promise that, for the next two days, they don’t even have to leave the house.

As it turns out, Alex is not in the kitchen when Henry stumbles through the door. David is the first to greet him, actually. He jumps up on his hind legs and paws at Henry’s knees to try and coax some cuddles or ear scratched out of him. With a chuckle, Henry sets down his messenger bag and crouches down to give David some love and attention.

“Hi, boy,” he coos as David flops onto his back for belly rubs. “Alright, alright, I see that you’re desperate for cuddles tonight. Where’s Alex, though? Is he in the kitchen? Let’s go see, shall we?”

He stands and wanders into the kitchen, passing the living room on his way. There's an open laptop and a stack of files on the coffee table but no Alex. So he goes into the kitchen and finds no delicious smells and no mostly naked boyfriend. He finds nothing at all. The lights aren’t even on. Curious, he looks around for a moment like Alex might just pop out of some drawer or cabinet (he’s small enough to fit, he thinks).

But Alex isn’t here. He doesn’t seem to be anywhere.

“Alex?” he calls, making his voice loud to reach all corners of their home. He makes his way back through the living room then back to the foyer where the stairs are. “Alex?”

Instead of hearing some kind of normal reaction or response, he hears a distant shit from upstairs. He takes the stairs two at a time, his hand firm on the railing to help him get up faster. He hears the distinct sound of David’s paws on the hardwood behind him, practically racing him up the stairs. Henry beats him up there, though, and quickly makes his way to their bedroom. The door is closed which is odd considering they hardly ever close their doors here since they’re the only two people here. He knocks on the door to be polite, feeling nervous.

“Shit, H, is that you?”

Henry nearly rolls his eyes because, really, who else would it be? “Yes, love. It’s me. Can I come in?”

There’s some shuffling from the other side of the door. He tries to open it but it’s locked.

“Uh, no,” Alex replies from the other side. “No, I––H, I fucked up.”

Henry’s mind instantly leaps to the worst. Alex is injured. He’s been poisoned. He’s set the room on fire. He’s cheating on him. Henry starts to tingle with fear at the sudden rush of thoughts that race through his mind, each one playing out like some sort of evil film in his brain. He takes a deep breath and releases the knob. “What does that mean?” Alex is silent for a moment and Henry is terrified at what all of this means. What could Alex possibly have done? “You’re scaring me, love.”

Though Alex still doesn’t say anything for a moment, he hears something that sounds like Alex flopping down onto the bed. “I said something shitty.”

Henry tries to think about what Alex could be referring to. He wasn’t in the office today––he was in DC for something for his mom. Just a short day trip. He must’ve gotten home less than an hour ago, based on the itinerary he showed Henry just to complain to someone about it. From the sounds of it, it seemed like a pretty standard day. A few meetings, some family time, and some sort of photo thing for something or another.

“What did you say, exactly? I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think.”

Alex doesn’t reply but, even on the other side of this door, Henry can see the gears turning in Alex’s head. He’s usually a pretty confident and capable person, so when he feels like he’s messed something up, the guilt eats away at him entirely.

“Could you let me in?” Henry asks. “I want to see you and hug you and talk about this.”

There’s another beat of silence. “I can’t––I can’t see the look on your face when I tell you.”

“I’d never judge you,” Henry assures him, “and nothing you say could ever make me love you any less. But, if you’re uncomfortable, I won’t push you. Do you think…could you come to the door, at least? I want you to know that I’m here and listening. I’ll even…” he sinks to the ground with his back against the door. “I’m sitting with my back to the door, love. If you want to join me.”

There’s a series of thumps and sighs from the other side of the door and then, thankfully, a pressure against his back. It’s Alex. It warms his heart to know that he’s so close––that there are only two or three inches between them. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine that they’re on the sofa together or something and that there’s no space between them at all.

“I’m here,” Alex says.

Henry nods before remembering that Alex can’t see him. “Do you want to tell me what happened? Or would you like me to tell you about my day, first?”

“Can I just…can I tell you? So you can break up with me right after instead of dragging this out?”

“Darling, I’m not going to break up with you. I promise.”

Though he knows that he won’t break up with Alex––he could never––he is getting a bit terrified about what Alex is going to tell him. It sounds bad––terrible, even.

“I was a dick to Leo,” Alex groans.

Henry pictures him tugging at his hair in frustration.

“My mom and I were arguing about something fucking stupid that I don’t even remember and I was so upset and tired and I just wanted to come home to you. And Leo tried to play mediator and––I love Leo, I really do––but I just fucking snapped at him.”

Henry takes a deep breath. He knows that Alex’s family situation is complicated, but he also knows that Alex cares deeply for everyone in his life. Even though Leo isn’t his biological father, he’s always treated him with respect and gratitude and kindness for everything he’s done both for the family and for Ellen. “What did you say? I won’t judge you, I promise. I just want to understand.”

“I––I told him he wasn’t a part of the family.” Alex takes a shaky breath. “I didn’t even mean it, though. I just wanted him to stop talking––wanted everyone to stop talking. I fucking hate it when everyone starts yelling at each other.”

“I know, love.”

“I really didn’t mean it,” Alex cries. Henry isn’t sure if that’s for his or Alex’s sake. “I promise. And now I feel like fucking shit because he got all offended and my mom got mad at me so I just––I left. Let them finish all that shit without me.”

Henry collects his thoughts before speaking. “I really want to hug you right now,” he admits.

Alex sniffles. “Why? I’m basically a terrible person.” “You’re not a terrible person, Alex. It’s okay, love. It was just a mistake.”

“Do you still love me?”

Henry rolls his eyes at the thought of Alex doubting his love for him. “Of course I still love you. I’ll always love you. And, more importantly, so will your family. Even if Leo was upset, he knows that you didn’t mean it.”

He hears a click and, suddenly, he falls backward as Alex opens the door. He’s still seated, it seems, so Henry falls into his lap. He looks up at Alex––at his features from upside down––and smiles before he leans up, presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw, before he sits up entirely and engulfs Alex in an all-consuming hug.

“I love you,” Henry tells him as he buries his head in the crook of Alex’s neck. He feels Alex’s arms hesitantly wrap around him, almost like he isn’t sure if this is something he deserves right now. It damn near breaks Henry’s heart. So he pulls Alex tighter until there’s no space between them.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Henry tells him again, kissing him between each promise. “I know you would never be intentionally cruel.”

“I was cruel to you, though,” Alex reminds him.

Henry shakes his head and pulls back to bring their foreheads together, moving one hand up to wrap around the base of Alex’s neck. “I was cruel to you first. And, at any rate, I quite like where we ended up.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Alex whispers.

“Nonsense,” Henry assures him. “We make each other better, we love each other as much as we can and to the best of our ability, and that’s all that matters. If it makes you feel better, you can draft a message to Leo that I can look over for you.”

Alex sighs and slumps forward, burying his head in Henry’s chest. “I should probably call him. It’s more…personal.”

Henry kisses the top of his head. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. And I’ll be here by your side if you’d like me to stay.”

Alex thinks about it for a moment before lifting his head and pressing a gentle kiss to Henry’s lips. “I’d really like that. Fuck, I love you so much.”

Henry smiles and kisses him again. “And I you, darling. Even when you’re dramatic and lock me out of our own bloody bedroom.”

Alex slaps him playfully on the chest and rolls his eyes. “You’re a dick.”

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Ectotherm (all parts)

Hey, all! I really wanted to contribute to the Great Good Omens Snake-Off. Short crack fic about Crowley being driven out of Ireland by St. Patrick.

(Spoiler: the punchline was “Of course I’m going to take it personally -- I was the only snake on that bloody island!”)

But I am burned all the way out today. Instead, please enjoy my Snek!Crowley Angst-with-a-Happy-Ending, “Ectotherm” - all the parts gathered together in one place, for the first time ever!

(If you enjoy, please consider reblogging!)

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

In twenty-four hours he had been subjected to the inferno of a burning bookshop; the hell-born flames of the dread sigil Odegra enveloping his Bentley; the terrifying freezing-hot-burning-cold presence of Satan himself; and a column of Hellfire intended not for him but for Aziraphale, because the Archangels were determined to destroy the best thing that had ever walked the floor of Heaven.

Well, forget them.

And so, they sat at the Ritz raising their glasses to the world, ready to share a meal and start their life together.

Only Crowley suddenly realized he couldn’t eat. He’d thought he was hungry, but the food just sat in his stomach, heavy and cold. Even the wine seemed to sour, once it was past his tongue.

Just nerves, he thought, and did it really matter? He’d always preferred to watch Aziraphale eat, see the joy bubble across his features. It was enough to know that they could do this every day for eternity if they wished, and right now he certainly wished it.

He felt a little better when the coffee arrived, almost-painful heat radiating out from his stomach.

“My dear fellow, that’s your fourth cup!” Aziraphale protested, as he downed another.

“It’s good! And I didn’t complain when you ordered a second piece of cake.”

“Well, I…I was rather thinking you might like some, too.”

With a rush of giddy emotions, Crowley realized he liked the sound of that very much. He picked up his fork and sliced off a bite of red cake with thick white icing. “What is it?”

“I thought I’d try something different, something a little modern. This is red velvet cake.”

Only Aziraphale would think a flavor that had been popular for over sixty years was a little modern. Crowley smiled as he tasted it – rich and sweet and strangely light on his tongue. “You know, it’s not bad,” he said, reaching for another bite.

And a little heat rose to his face as he realized that Aziraphale was sitting there with hands folded, smile on his face – watching Crowley eat.

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

They went for a walk after the Ritz, but he found he was very tired. He tried to shrug it off.

“I’ve had a busy week, and I missed my sleeping day,” he explained. “I don’t – I don’t need to sleep, you know, but I still get exhausted. I’ll be fine.”

“You should sleep, then,” Aziraphale said, tone slightly scolding. The angel seemed determined to make sure Crowley took care of himself, as if he hadn’t learned to do that long before the Garden. It turned out, being fussed over wasn’t so bad. “I can walk you back to your place. Or. Er. You can come to the bookshop. I don’t have much to offer, but there’s the sofa, and perhaps we can have a drink…”

“Bookshop sounds lovely.” He always had to fight back a smile when he remembered the many nights they’d sat in the back corner together, sharing wine, sharing stories, complaining about work, just being themselves. Actually, he didn’t have to fight back that smile at all anymore – he could wear it for anyone to see. For Aziraphale to see.

None of that today, though. Crowley was rather embarrassed to find that the moment he stretched out on the sofa, he started falling asleep, and there was nothing he could do to fight it off.

He was dead to the world before Aziraphale had even settled into his armchair, and didn’t wake up until the shop was filled with bright Monday sunlight. A fleecy tartan blanket covered him from shoulder to toe, but he still shivered, and his stomach felt strangely heavy. Too much cake, probably.

Crowley sat up stiffly, running a hand through his hair and blinking around the shop. His eyes landed on a customer, who jumped in surprise, then quickly walked out.

“Ah, you’re awake!” Aziraphale hurried over. “How are you feeling? Better, I trust?”

“A bit.” Crowley rubbed at his face. “Didn’t I have glasses?”

“You took them off before falling asleep.” Aziraphale pulled them out of his pocket. “I was worried you might roll over them in the night. You slept very heavily. Is that normal?”

He shrugged, pushing the dark lenses back onto his face. “Probably. Didn’t wake up, didn’t dream much, seems like a good sleep. Does it have to be so blasted cold, though?”

Aziraphale glanced at the old-fashioned thermostat. “I do keep it a little cool to discourage customers. You scared away three different people just by sleeping there, you know. Perhaps I should get you a permanent bed right in the middle of the floor.”

“Only if you promise to turn the heat up.” Crowley wandered closer to the window, feeling the warmth of the sun on his shoulders. That was better. “I’m…” It wasn’t a word he used often.  “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“About the customers? Don’t be, they were trying to touch my first edition Verne novels and I was running out of ways to be inconspicuously rude.”

“No about…falling asleep. I know you had…” Plans? Expectations? They’d never really talked about what Our Side would mean. “…you had hopes, for our first day, you know, free.”

“And every one of them is being fulfilled right now,” Aziraphale said, with such sincerity that Crowley started to smile. “Ah, I lied. Now all of them are being fulfilled.” He took Crowley’s hands in his. “Just standing here, talking to you, not worrying about who might see us, it’s more than I ever thought would be possible. I am perfectly content as we are.” He frowned suddenly. “Except that your hands are freezing.”

Crowley laughed as Aziraphale wrapped his hands around the demon’s, rubbing them, trying to warm them up. It certainly did make him feel better, and not just because his fingers had been a little numb from the way he’d slept.

“I was actually worried…” Aziraphale started again, still staring at their hands. “Oh, I assume you have your own, er, hopes. Since you’ve been thinking about this so much longer than I. We should probably discuss that, but, well, just to warn you, I haven’t thought much about…that is, I’m not sure that I want…ohhh…”

Crowley lifted one hand to tilt Aziraphale’s face up, to look into his eyes. The heat of it was almost unbearable. “I haven’t really thought about it either,” he confessed. “Never thought we’d make it this far. Everything from this point on is just a pleasant surprise.” With his other hand, he squeezed the angel’s fingers gently. “I don’t think I’d say no to more of this, though.”

Aziraphale blushed, the heat of it rushing to fill every space inside Crowley, and his eyes dropped briefly. “Your hand is still freezing,” he finally said, pulling away with a smile. He bustled across the shop to pick up his coat. “I know, let’s go for a walk. It’s a nice, warm day. We can feed the ducks in St. James’s Park…No. Let’s do something different. Something daring.” There was a wild gleam in his eyes as he turned back. “Let’s feed the ducks in Regent’s Park.”

It was indeed a gloriously warm day, and they spent over five hours exploring every path in London’s third-largest park while a small sign sat in the bookshop window reading Out to Lunch – Back in a Jiffy.

Every once in a while, Aziraphale’s hot hand found its way into Crowley’s cold one. Again and again, until it felt completely natural.

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

It had been three weeks since the world had ended and begun again, everything ticking along nicely as Aziraphale liked to stay. Crowley caught himself thinking more like Aziraphale these days, which was both worrying and wonderful.

Except that any time Crowley was indoors, he felt lethargic, cold, a little cranky. Aziraphale had miracled up a thick scarf in grey tartan. It was hideous and embarrassing and he wore it all the time even though it didn’t really help. He knew what the tartan gifts meant.

He took more hot baths than he ever had in his life, including the years he’d spent living in Bath. He soaked until he felt lightheaded, feverish even, and bundled himself up to try and trap in the heat.

Yet still, an hour later, he huddled in his seat, shivering, unable to concentrate on a game of chess, or even draughts.

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?" Aziraphale asked as Crowley moved his black piece forward.

"Stop asking me that. I know how to play this, I've been beating you for centuries." He glared at the angel sitting comfortably in his armchair.

Two weeks ago, Aziraphale had summoned his favorite seat into Crowley's study, across the desk from that ridiculous throne. Despite his complaints, at the time he'd welcomed the idea of the angel being as comfortable in his space as Crowley was in the bookshop. Of sharing all those idle moments as he had dreamed for so long. Of finally opening his life enough to make room for the only other being that mattered.

Now, he couldn't help thinking how awful the chair looked, how it clashed with his decor, with his whole flat, how much he hated the way Aziraphale smirked as he picked up one red piece and, there he goes again, captured every single one of Crowley's in a rapid series of jumps.

Really should have seen that coming.

"Well, my dear," Aziraphale folded his hands. "Shall we try for best seven out thirteen, or should we switch to something more your speed? Naughts and Crosses, perhaps?"

With a sweep of his arm, Crowley knocked the board and pieces off the desk, scattering them across the floor.

"Crowley!"

The demon didn't respond. He didn't have the energy to respond - every muscle in his body screamed to just stretch out and rest.

He walked into the next room, where the heat lamps over the plants kept the air at nearly 40 degrees. All but the most tropical had already withered, and even the few remaining trembled at his approach, knowing they weren't up to his exacting standards. But he wasn't here to berate them, just to try and soak in some of the heat.

"Crowley? My dear, are you quite alright?"

He leaned against the counter, trying to will his shoulders to relax, his stomach to unknot, his brain to start functioning again. He didn't even notice Aziraphale's approach, until the too-hot hand landed on his shoulder.

"DON'T!" Without thinking, Crowley spun, shoving the angel away with all his strength. "Don't touch me, don't come near me, don't even speak to me, you arrogant sod!"

Then he tore off the tartan scarf and threw it into the corner.

Over 6,000 years, Crowley and Aziraphale had had many fights.

The everyday ones, the endless bickering and teasing, they both knew never to take to heart.

The truly fierce ones, a request for Holy Water, and a plan to run away - these had nearly shattered them, yet they'd still understood, on some level, that each wanted what was best.

The argument that night was like nothing they'd ever experienced. All the bitter pettiness of their daily arguments, but with every ounce of ferocity Crowley could muster.

Later, as he lay on the ceiling, shivering in the heat, Crowley replayed every word, crystal clear in his mind, hoping that at least the burn of his shame could warm him up.

It wasn't anger. It was lashing out.

Crowley was afraid. Something was wrong, and he didn't know what.

--

Crowley couldn't get warm.

He tried wearing more layers.

He tried wearing fewer layers.

Eating hot food.

Lying under a tree.

Lying in direct sunlight.

Finally, there was only one conclusion he could reach.

“I’m cold-blooded.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Aziraphale sniffed. His ego was still somewhat bruised from their argument, but he was clearly making an effort.

They sat facing each other across the café table, opposite sides. Aziraphale had ordered a slice of warm pie with ice cream melting down the sides. A second fork sat, waiting for Crowley, and the angel kept giving it significant looks, but the demon wouldn’t unwrap his hands from the enormous cup of coffee he’d ordered, the largest they served.

Aziraphale sighed and folded his hands. “Crowley, dear. I know the…transition to our new life hasn’t been as smooth as we hoped, and we’ve both said things we regret, but I’ve never felt that you were –”

“No, Aziraphale.” He took a sip of coffee. It was something American-style, hot and bitter and lacking any particular flavor. He didn’t care. He just needed absurd quantities of near-boiling liquid. “I mean it literally. Somehow, after the Apocalypse, I became cold-blooded. I can’t get warm no matter what I do.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, as if waiting for the punchline of an unfunny joke. “That’s simply impossible. How many times have you told me off for making those assumptions, just because you used to be a snake? You have a mammal body, and it does…mammal things,” he waved his hands to indicate that he still wasn’t completely caught up on modern science classifications, “including being warm…”

He trailed off as Crowley reached across the table, taking his hand. Even after being wrapped around the hot ceramic mug, it still wouldn’t feel right. “What are you always saying these days?”

“That your hands are freezing.” Aziraphale shook his head. “It can’t be true. That’s not proof…”

Crowley gestured to the plate. “I can’t eat because my stomach is too cold to work. When I do eat, I have to lay down because any extra movement takes away energy I need for digestion.” He tugged at the tartan scarf, back around his neck where it belonged. “Extra layers don’t help, because they just insulate me from the warm air. Blankets don’t help because I’m not creating enough heat on my own. Even turning up the thermostat doesn’t help because this blessed body is made to shed heat, not retain it.” He stared into his mug of coffee. “I can’t move when I’m cold. I can’t move when I’m hot. Sunlight helps for a little while, but the days are getting shorter.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, knowing what he was about to say would make the angel pull away, wishing it wasn't true. “I…I don’t think I like being touched anymore.”

He didn’t fight it when the hand vanished, taking its warmth with it. Crowley just slumped, closing his eyes in defeat.

The squeal of chair legs against hard floor made him glance up. Aziraphale had moved to sit beside him, pulling his chair as close as he could.

Carefully, Crowley leaned his head to the side, resting it on Aziraphale’s shoulder, letting their bodies press together. It was easier this way, a sort of passive contact, unrestrained, letting the heat flow between them.

“Are you…” He could hear the way the breath caught in Aziraphale’s throat. “You seem so certain. Is there any chance you’re wrong? Any other explanation?”

Crowley gently shook his head, letting it wobble back and forth on the angel’s shoulder. “This is how it felt when I was a snake. You don’t forget something like that.”

“At least now you know. Surely what you learned from being a snake can help you navigate…”

“I looked it up,” Crowley muttered. “A snake can handle a range of fifteen, twenty degrees easily. Human body…a little more than one degree. At 35 I’m freezing to death, at 38 I’m burning up from the inside. I don’t even know how I’ve lasted this long.” He pressed himself even closer into Aziraphale’s side. Half of him was still cold, even as his shoulder and his thigh screamed in the heat. It wouldn’t balance properly. “It’s going to kill me.”

He felt the tension all through Aziraphale’s body. “Crowley, no!”

“Fine, it’s going to get me discorporated, and I’ll wake up in Hell, and they’ll kill me.”

“There must be something we can do.”

“Maybe. It’s getting harder to concentrate every day.”

“Then I’ll look for a solution.” He offered his hand and Crowley grabbed it, grateful for the almost-too-hot touch. “I might as well, since I’m responsible.”

“What are you talking about, Angel?”

“Your body was fine, then I used it and…it must be something I did.”

“Don’t say that.” He pulled away enough to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “This isn’t your fault. I agreed to switch bodies, I knew there was some risk. And I don’t think you could have caused this. Somehow this is Heaven or Hell, still interfering with our lives.”

Aziraphale bit his lip, nodding. Crowley wasn’t sure if he really believed it or not. “Still. If this was done to you, there must be some way to undo it. And if there’s a way, I will find it.” He swallowed, turning to look at their linked hands. “But, in the meantime…It’s probably best if you turn back into a snake.”

“No!” Crowley all but shouted, anger mixing with fear. “No, Aziraphale I won’t. That’s not who I am anymore.”

“Isn’t it better than dying?”

He clenched his jaw, biting back his reply. He honestly wasn’t sure it was. An eternity as a serpent, no driving, no music, no wines, no gardening, no feeding ducks, no holding hands…

Crowley twined his fingers through Aziraphale’s, lifting up the hand clasp between them. “I fought…We fought…so long for this. I can’t just…I won’t give this up. I won’t, Angel.”

“You’re not giving anything up,” Aziraphale insisted. He brushed his lips across Crowley’s fingers and, oh, add something else to the list of things he wasn’t willing to lose. “I will still be here. My feelings for you won’t change at all.”

“They’ll probably change a little,” Crowley pointed out.

“I want to spend every day with you, talk with you, see you happy. And it doesn’t matter if you’re scaled or human or turn into a fish, that’s not going to change.”

“I won’t be happy.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But please. Give me the time I need to save you.”

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale, letting the angel do the same back, even though part of his mind screamed and squirmed to escape the heat of contact. He told himself this wouldn’t be the last time.

--

Crowley was warm.

He stretched out in his favorite basking spot by the window, feeling the winter sunlight play across his scales, heating him up. Oh, there were heat lamps tucked in the corners for when he needed them, but nothing beat the feel of real sunlight.

Every now and again, the door would open, a customer hoping to browse for a Christmas gift. The rumble of footsteps through his belly woke him, and he reared up his head, tongue flicking out to catch the scent of the blurry shape by the entryway.

Almost every time, the visitor took one look at the enormous red-bellied black snake and vanished soon after.

The hours ticked by, slow and sweet, like drops of honey. Crowley was aware that he should be filling them with fast-paced reckless activities of some form, but he couldn’t quite recall what…just a general sense of dissatisfaction.

Still, whatever he had lost, the best was still here.

When he’d drunk his fill of warmth, he twisted his way through the shop, sliding around stacks of books and potted plants (hissing at the ones that didn’t seem to be growing well enough). There, at the desk, sat the angel.

Aziraphale was rarely anywhere else these days. Bent over old grimoires, reading glasses balanced on his nose, pile of notes beside him. He hadn’t glanced up for any of the customers. Three cups full of cold tea sat beside him. He hadn’t even risen to get a new one in a while.

A pair of folded-up sunglasses sat in one corner of the desk. He never picked them up, but sometimes touched them as he worked.

Crowley twisted around his leg, climbing, finding his way along the chair and across the shoulders until he was draped across Aziraphale, watching him work.

“Hello, my dear. How was your day?”

Crowley hissed dismissively. One day was the same as another for a snake. “Progressss?”

“I’m close. I really think I’m close.” His voice was just a rumble, rising from his chest through Crowley’s belly, distorted, missing half the notes. He couldn’t pick up on the nuance, couldn’t tell if it was a lie or not. Just like he couldn’t see all of Aziraphale’s face at once, just the jaw, the little smile, the rest curving away in the distance.

“Ssssupper,” Crowley reminded him. The angel needed lots of reminders.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. I really want to keep at this a bit longer.”

“Resssst.”

He held up his hands before him, letting Crowley slither from one to the next without trying to grasp. There was something about hands, something important. It was just on the edge of his memory, but snakes don’t have hands. It slipped away.

“No, I can’t rest yet. Not until…no.”

“Pleassssssse.”

“I can take a small break, but no dinner. I’m not hungry, anyway.”

When Crowley was coiled back around his shoulders, Aziraphale stood up, walking across to the little secluded corner of the shop. This was another important area, though Crowley couldn’t exactly remember why. He thought it involved a lot of sitting, drinking…water? Not water. He forgot what he used to drink.

The angel fiddled with his collection of round discs. “How about some Vivaldi, since it’s almost Christmas? You always liked his Seasons.” Crowley nodded.

He couldn’t really hear the music. Noises on the air meant nothing to a snake.

But once Aziraphale was stretched out on the sofa, Crowley made himself comfortable on his chest, and felt the deep thrum of the music as the angel sang along.

Warmth rose from Aziraphale, too, just like from the sun. It was a different kind of heat. Purer. Better.

Whatever else he had lost, Crowley still had that. And he was content.

--

Aziraphale collapsed across the sofa, head and shoulders wedged into the corner, too exhausted to even keep himself upright. The long black serpent lay on his stomach, watching him intently.

“Oh, Crowley,” he tried to keep his voice steady, despite the tears he could no longer hold in. “You were wrong. It was my fault. I’ve – I’ve worked it out now. Obvious, really. Serpent. Human. Two corporations, woven together.” His voice started to crack. “When we changed places I…I sort of dropped a corner. Let one bleed into the other. I – I’m so sorry.”

Crowley took a moment, processing this. “Accccident.”

“Yes, but I…” He held out a hand. Crowley didn’t like to be scratched, or petted, or held. But he did glide across the hand, bringing his snout closer to the angel’s tear-streaked face. “I could have killed you, Crowley. I could have destroyed you over something so…so foolishly simple. You must hate me.”

“No. Nevvver.”

He wiped furiously at his eyes with his free hand. They itched with fatigue as they never had before. “I’m almost there, Crowley. Just a little more. I can see where I dropped it. I can see how to separate them again. I just…just need to figure out how to secure the ends, so it doesn’t happen again.” The sobs broke through again. “I’m nearly there, my love. I’m nearly there.”

“Resssst.”

“I can’t. Not when I’m so close. Crowley I…I need you back. I want to see you human again. And I know you hate this, I won’t leave you in this form a moment longer than necessary, I just…”

“Ssssleeep.” Crowley retreated, coiling up on Aziraphale’s chest. “Ssssleeep. Lovvvve. Sssssleeeep.”

Aziraphale drifted off under that watchful golden gaze, allowing his mind the rest it needed to put the last few pieces together.

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

The angel had spent the morning carving lines and curves deep into the wooden floor, until Crowley could feel every scratch and dip through the sensitive skin of his belly. Now the angel was trying to keep him at the center of the pattern, while he ran around the edge doing – something.

There was a heat lamp, but it was too far away. Why wasn’t he under it?

Crowley started sliding across the floor, coiling and uncoiling in the direction of that delicious, life-giving heat –

The angel suddenly loomed before him, hands flapping. “No, no! I told…the center…few more minutes.”

A few minutes? Crowley was cold now. He wound to the side, planning to dart around, but the angel’s feet suddenly shifted, coming down sharply in his path.

Startled, Crowley reared up, nearly as tall as the angel, to hisssss from his maximum height, head flattened, vision suddenly clear enough to see the angel’s face: eyes wide, jaw tight. Frightened. Crowley gave another hisssss, hoping that would be enough to scare the interloper away, clear a path to the heat.

But the angel merely raised his hands, moving more slowly this time. “…sorry, my…adjust the lamp…break the circle now…start all over…” The words were murky, distorted, most of them too low or soft to be perceived. “…explained…ten minutes ago…remember?”

Ten minutes? That was a long time.

No, no it wasn’t. The cold was just making his mind fuzzy again. He gave another longing look at the heat lamp, then at another, further away, tucked safely in a corner where he could bask and hide. He felt exposed, anxious, very much in danger. What if this was some kind of trap?

Then he looked again at the angel’s face. Not frightened. Worried. Sad. Tired.

Crowley trusted Aziraphale. He couldn’t remember precisely why, but it was undeniable – a deep, profound trust. If Aziraphale said he had to stay here, stay he would.

“Fasssssster,” Crowley grumbled, and twisted back to where he’d been before. A moment later, the light from the heat lamp grew a little warmer. Still not quite enough, but better.

Two more slow circuits around the marks on the floor, adjusting things and muttering, and finally the angel sat down, facing Crowley. He held out his arms, but Crowley was in no mood to be handled, pulling back into his coils.

“I need…preferably your face.” Crowley flicked his tongue, but otherwise didn’t move. “Please…”

Reluctantly, the black and red snake moved closer, lifted his head until the angel could cup his jaw with burning-hot hands. He didn’t like it and nearly pulled away, fighting the urge to retreat.

Necessary, this is necessary. He tried to relax into the contact, tried to pretend it didn’t feel wrong.

The angel’s blue eyes fluttered shut; Crowley could just make out the tense wrinkles forming in his brow, but the stiffness in the fingers around the snake’s jaw was unmistakable. It wasn’t enough to be painful, but it was close. Crowley’s back half twisted and writhed as if ready to pull away, even while he focused his entire being on keeping his head still. Necessary. Trust him. It’s necessary.

Finally, the angel’s hands fell away, and he dropped back, breathing heavily. His eyes opened and he smiled. “…finished.”

Good.

Crowley turned and slithered under the heat lamp, stretching out for maximum comfort.

Just as he was settling in for a good late-morning nap, the angel appeared beside him again. “…you hear…finished…”

Now what? Perhaps he should go find one of the more secluded lamps, to avoid interruptions.

“…fixed you…”

Shrugging off the nap for the moment, Crowley raised his head just enough to tip it to the side. Fixed…?

The angel knelt at the edge of the heat lamp’s warmth, and spoke again, much louder. “…fixed…change back…”

Crowley tilted his head the other way. Change back…?

“Human! Crowley, human.”

It all came back in a rush. Arms. Legs. Hands. Drinking strange red water, watching birds swim, moving very fast in a large black box which made the angel very angry – human.

He reared up again.

Nothing changed.

“Hhhhhow?”

The angel shook his head, mouth working, but Crowley couldn’t hear a sound. He pushed closer, far closer than was comfortable, until the heat pits of his face were filled with the angel’s warmth, until he could see the tears gathering in blue eyes.

Crowley focused on those eyes, that shape, on every part of his life in human form that he could still make sense of.

Still no change.

Hissing with frustration, he abandoned the warmth of the heat lamp, shooting away to weave among the plants, drape himself across the sofa, even nudge his face at an open book.

No effect at all.

He couldn’t remember how to change back.

As he circled the shop again – feeling his energy sap away in the cold – he noticed the angel sitting once again at his desk. Crowley climbed up his leg, across his back, draped over his shoulders and around his chest. Felt the pure warmth, cleaner and sweeter than sunlight.

The angel wasn’t working now, of course; his chair was pointed away from the desk, as if to avoid even looking at the piles of paper. He clutched something in his hands, shoulders heaving, chest shaking with sobs. “I’m sorry…I tried…I tried so hard, but I couldn’t…I’m too late.” The voice was a little clearer now, rumbling through Crowley’s belly.

“Sssshhhhhh,” Crowley comforted as best he could, trying to nestle his head on the angel’s arms. It wasn’t a gesture he was comfortable with, but he could remember now that arms, hands, were important. Perhaps if he could get closer…

“If I hadn’t been so foolish…oh, my love…I failed you…”

But Crowley wasn’t listening. He was looking at what the angel held in his hands. He was looking at –

“Glassssssesss.”

“Wh – what?”

“Glassssess.” Crowley nudged at the angel’s hands until they parted, revealing a pair of black lenses held by silver frames. “Pleassse. Glassessss.”

It wasn’t easy to put a pair of sunglasses onto a snake’s head, even one so large as Crowley. They dangled rather uselessly down either side of his jaw, the lenses didn’t exactly cover his eyes, and where they did the world became a murky black soup he had no hope of seeing. But it felt…right.

He turned, trying to face the angel, but somehow lost his balance and tumbled to the floor.

“Crowley? Are you…Crowley?”

The voice was too crisp, too sharp, to rich. It was startling.

He shook his head and hissed, but it sounded strange. Thick. His tongue couldn’t get out because there were too many teeth.

Crowley blinked. Not because he had to, but because he suddenly realized he had eyelids.

A hand drifted over and adjusted the glasses, settling them correctly over the ears and across the nose – no that was his hand, his fingers.

His eyes slowly panned up and he was shocked at how clearly he could see the angel standing over him, looking more pale, more drawn, and just a bit thinner than he remembered, clothes a rumpled mess, eyes red.

“Aziraphale?”

“Crowley!”

Two arms suddenly around his shoulders, pulling him up onto legs he barely remembered how to use, wrapping around him, pulling him into the indescribable softness of Aziraphale’s embrace. It took him a moment to remember that he had arms of his own, that he could twist them, twine them, pull Aziraphale even closer.

He could still feel Aziraphale’s warmth pressing into his chest and stomach, but it no longer felt like a blazing fire, or the strange glow of life-giving heat. It was simply a body, pressed close to his. Two bodies trembling, shaking, shoulders heaving, breath ragged.

Aziraphale was still crying, still mumbling apologies into the demon’s shoulder.

Crowley was laughing.

They didn’t let each other go for a long, long time.

--

Crowley was warm.

No, Crowley was happy.

It wasn’t as easy to fit both bodies on the sofa in this form, but they managed – Aziraphale stretched out, Crowley, lying across his chest, legs in a tangle, head tucked against his throat, listening to the sigh of breath, the rumble of heartbeat.

They hadn’t talked about it. Aziraphale had finally admitted to being tired, and they just found themselves here as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I suppose I’ve gotten used to this,” murmured Aziraphale, who never used to lie on his own sofa, trembling fingers tracing through Crowley’s hair.

“I’m used to it, too,” he mumbled back, but used to it didn’t begin to describe it. This was right, this was home, and he knew it was more than a leftover serpentine instinct to bask that had brought him here, that would keep bringing him here for as long as Aziraphale would allow it.

Aziraphale’s right hand was still twined with Crowley’s left, resting on the angel’s chest. Crowely couldn’t stop studying it, turning it, running his thumb across fingers and knuckles and nails. He could feel more than just heat now, he could feel the softness, the rough callus on the side of one finger where Aziraphale rested his pencil as he wrote, the faint hard edges of papercuts. It was an entire world to explore, that hand, full of more wonder than Crowley had ever suspected.

“Might be more comfortable in a bed,” Aziraphale whispered, clearly already on the edge of sleep.

“I’ve got a bed,” Crowley said idly, still looking at the broken edges of Aziraphale’s nails. He’d never seen them like that before. Aziraphale had kept them perfectly manicured since the invention of manicures. “Lots of space, too. More than I can use. But then, all my plants are already here…” He trailed off, realizing what he was saying.

“Mmh,” was Aziraphale’s only reply. The fingers combing through Crowley’s hair were now almost still.

“S’alright, Angel. You rest. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

--

Notes for Americans: Draughts is checkers, and Naughts and Crosses is Tic-Tac-Toe. All temperatures are in Celsius, and I hope I have them accurate.

Snake notes: I am not a herpetologist (reptile/amphibian scientist) but my cousin is, and he provided some notes on snake behavior and biology, which I've used here and elsewhere in my writing, though my attempts to render ectothermic traits onto a warm-blooded body are entirely my own.

Some fans like to HC Crowley as cold-blooded in all his forms, which is fine, but it certainly means more than just "he's a little chilly when it's cold out"! I have a full list for if I ever want to do a cold-blooded-Crowley story, but not all of them made it into this one. Relevant points include: - Ectotherms need to bask to get their heat up to a comfortable temperature before any major activity - Digesting food is a long, slow process. Snakes prefer to rest somewhere warm and safe while this happens - Bundling up can help retain heat (snake sweaters!) but only if the snake is already hot to begin with - Snakes can only actually be safely away from their heat lamps for half an hour or so (depending on ambient temperature) - Torpor is a sort of involuntary state of reduced metabolism that ectotherms enter when it gets too cold. Various other terms also apply, depending on how long the period is, and how intense the cold, but keep in mind - INVOLUNTARY. - Snakes do not like to be touched, handled or contained. Snakes are just not comfortable with physical contact the way mammals are, though they will tolerate it if you stay within the right boundaries - Do not startle a snake.

Thank you all for reading! This was originally from my Christmas Prompt fic, “Boundless Love.” I’ll post the link in the comments!

[pies-writes-and-more]

PIES’ FIC RECOMMENDATIONS FOR MAY 2020

So I’ve never done one of these fic recommendations lists before but I really want to share some of the amazing work that I’ve read this past month! I’ve definitely read a whole ton more but I was dumb and didn’t think to like draft this list and then just keep adding to it... so I’m just attempting to go through my tags LOL please be patient with my dumbass. 

NOTE: Since I only started doing this recently, a lot of my recommendations are gonna come from a lot of my mutuals but I’m always open to hearing more about other fics!!! If you’ve got an incredible fic that you are super proud of or if you think that I should read something you’ve read, PLEASE SEND IT TO ME! I’m really big on StevexFem!Reader, BuckyxFem!Reader, WandaxFem!Reader, CarolxFem!Reader, and Stucky fics!!!

If you do end up reading these fics, please tag me if you reblog them or comment on them!! I’d love to see your guys’ reactions :) 

ANYWAYS THE FOLLOWING PEOPLE HAVE CRUSHED MY HEART WITH AMAZING FICS, RUINED MY IDEALS OF WHAT LOVE IS, AND/OR BROKEN MY HEART WITH ANGST ONLY TO REVIVE IT WITH SOME FLUFF. I love you all so very much.

PS. if these links dont work for some reason, please let me know so I can update this list because I was very distracted halfway through making this so it might not be perfect!

1.Walpurgis Night by @anika-ann​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “In which Steven volunteers to find a long-lost princess of Starkerbürg. (Fairy Tale AU)” I have no clue why this fic is not given more goddamn attention because holy shit yall, I have never been so grasped by a fic before. If you love medieval/fairy tale type things, you will love this fic. And if you don’t, you’re gonna love it anyways because @anika-ann​ writes SO. FUCKING. WELL. 100% fluff and love.

2. Abs Aren’t Always the Answer by @its-not-captain-america​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “Steve asks Y/N what girls are interested in, trying to impress her. Several shirtless pics later it’s not working.” Y’all want hilarious shit??? What about Steve Rogers always trying to take his fucking shirt off because he has the DNA (and the body) of a stripper? JK that’s not the actual reason but this fic is so funny, I died reading the first 700 times (and the 701st time too... and every time after that). 100% hilarious.

3. Challenge Accepted...? by @anika-ann​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader ”Steve’s never been good at quick decision-making when it came to his own safety. After one particularly horrible experience, you find a way to remind him every day to think twice the next time he’s faced with a tough choice. He is not amused.” Steven Grant Rogers you stupid dumb hoe lol. That’s all I’mma say about this fic because it speaks for itself when you read it haha. Banter is iconic in this fic. 100% hilarious.

4. A Matter of Trust by @anika-ann​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “You and Steve get to go to a mission together after a while; free drinks, partying, dressing-up nicely, stealing blueprints, the usual. You might even enjoy this as a couple.“ This time it’s Y/N that’s kindof a stupid dumb hoe but like that’s okay because when Y/N is a stupid dumb hoe, it’s not as stupid or dumb as when Steve does it. There’s a bit of a carry on between Challenge Accepted...? and this fic! So I would suggest reading that one first and then this :) 100% hilarious.

5. For a Smile by @anika-ann​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “You see him run past every morning. So you smile, because he looks like a nice person. How could he not be when he smiles back and the world stops for a while to pay respect to such beauty?” So you know how Disney movies totally screwed over some of our perspectives of how guys were gonna come and sweep us off our feet? Yeah. This fic did it too. I’m still waiting for my fairytale fucking moment like this fic but if it never happens, I’ll settle for just reading this over and over again LOL. 100% F L U F F and LOVE.

6. Grease and Pearls by @anika-ann​​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “All you know is uptown; fancy clothes, expensive cars, jewellery outshining one’s personality and exhausting dinners with family acquaintances and business partners. Your life is all planned out; one day, you’ll marry Howard Stark’s son and you’ll be the golden couple adored by press.” This 3-part series slayed me. Like honestly, I’ve never been so torn apart before. Y’all lucky that if you read it, you get to read all 3 parts right away whereas I had to sit and wait for my heart to be torn apart and then stomped on. (Jk anika i love you you know that). Super amazing thing I love about this fic: it’s got links to the dresses that Y/N wears (super cute btw) AND it’s got two different endings so you can decide!!! 100% ANGST and 100% FLUFF? At the same time??? Because of the two endings?!?!?!? NOTE: part 2 got some steamy smut in there so 18+ readers only. I had to take a cold shower after reading it like goddamn.

7. Be Alright by @kayteewritessteve​ ​| Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “Steve goes through a bad breakup, but a sweet voice and a friendly smile helps him realize he can begin again, and that he definitely should.” God this fic. I can’t with this fic. It’s based on the Dean Lewis song Be Alright, which is already one of my favourites, but this fic, ugh, Kaytee knows how to hurt you that’s for sure. It’s so pure and so wonderful. 100% SAD but like it gets better promise.

8. Cold Feet by @anika-ann​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

“After two months of dating, you’ve come to a conclusion as exciting as well as a bit irritating: Steve Rogers is a perfect man. He simply has no flaw.Or does he?” Mother. Fucking. Adorable. I dunno if there’s anything else to say except that anika really knows how to make me wish I was Y/N adsoifhosd. 100% F L U F F

9. Hot Chocolate by @vodkaxtonic​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “Steve gets sick and Y/N takes care of him, which involves a lot of Steve’s whining, hot chocolate and cuddles.“ Steve Rogers is a little shit who won’t just accept that he’s sick and needs to be taken care of BUT IT’S SO CUTE AND THIS FIC IS THE BEST!!!! 100% FLUFF!!

10. Home by @evanstush​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “It’s been 2 years since the last battle and it’s now Morgan’s 7th birthday, and well, Tony being Tony, he prepared a small party for her little girl, inviting everyone from the team, including you.” Hnnnggg this fic. Okay so. I love @evanstush​ with all my fucking heart because she’s always been so supportive of me and my fics. That being said I WAS NOT EXPECTING HER KIND ASS TO HURT MY HEART LIKE THIS. But again, it’s okay because it’s got fluff guys. 50% ANGST and 50% FLUFF. Well like it’s 100% both but like I have to split it haha.

11. Cocktails by @writeyourmindaway​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “ ~i really don’t know what to write i’m sorry~ DRINKS!” That’s okay, darling, I’ll write the summary you. HILARITY. WONDERFULNESS. THE WORD BLOWJOB WRITTEN SO MANY TIMES AND IT’S FUCKING GOLD. This is so funny i love it haha. This fic killed me. I should’ve seen it coming (hehe) but i didn’t lol. 100% HILARIOUS.

12. Unadulterated by @writeyourmindaway​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader No summary for this one but again, I shall do the honours haha. It’s part 2 of ‘Cocktails’ and this one is just as adorable and hilarious as the first part! Steve is a cheeky little soft boi and the flirting just makes me feel all sorts of ways <3 100% ADORABLE.

13. Water Wars by @writeyourmindaway | Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader “The team finds a new way to unwind” I love fics where you just see the team get to be normal people!!! Plus haven’t we all thought about how the Avengers would are in a water fight? Is that just me? Don’t have to fantasize about it now because @writeyourmindaway wrote it for you :D 100% FLUFF.

14. Slow Like Honey by @heli0s-writes | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “The gossip that buzzes around in the teacher’s lounge is that sweet, sensitive, divorcé Steve Rogers is hot-for-teacher. His daughter’s first-grade teacher, to be exact.” I binged this whole fucking series. 8 parts of PURE. EVERYTHING. I have never so badly wanted a happy ending in my fucking life. This is an amazing series with so much love put into it, you can tell. I really can’t explain this fic because you really need to just go read it to know how amazing it is. NOTE: Part 4, 5, and 8 have some serious love smut in there so 18+ readers only please. UGH. I love this fic so much. I will continue to keep daydreaming about it and thinking about it all the time. God I love me some Dad!Steve. 50% FLUFF and 50% ANGST (which seriously tore my heart out like I cried).

15. You Make My World Spin by @anika-ann | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “After the Battle of New York and all the mess Tony gets involved in later, Pepper believes he is in a need of an assistant slash tech genius. Enter you. While Tony is not amused by Pepper’s idea at first… he soon warms up to you.” So many insanely wonderful references in this fic, it’s hilarious. Also, Tony being a little shit LOL. Such a hilarious fic!!!! 100% AMAZINGLY HILARIOUS.

16. If You Stumble... by @anika-ann | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “If you stumble…make it part of the dance. In which you ask Steve what your date would look like if you lived the forties. He decides to show you instead. There are few flaws, holes to see through to glimpse beyond that illusion. But what life would be besides boring if everything was perfect? Perfect dress. Perfect date. Perfect gentleman…?” So my dumbass was so excited to read something that anika put out that I didn’t realize this was part 2 of a 3 part series lol I’m dumb yes I know. Anyways, this is part 1 so please don’t be like me and read the first part LOL. ANYWAYS, this was so fucking wholesome. This is definitely one that I need to read again and fully read in order (she’s got part 3 on her AO3, I believe) but ugh. I love the idea of Steve dating in this century, comparing things to how things were done in the old days ufglasodfhsd. I love it. Amazing. 100% FLUFF (I think because well my dumbass hasn’t finished but this part was fluffy :3)

17. @wxstedhexrt‘s poems | Read Them Here! | Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes I don’t think Destiny ever gave me a summary of these but (and Destiny, please correct me if I’m wrong in how you want these to be portrayed!) I believe they’re poems written throughout the whole Steve and Bucky timeline. She’s used the Winter Soldier’s words and turned them into a gorgeous set of poems. 100% My favourite thing in the whole fucking world. 

18. The Lonely Tree by @sarahwroteathing​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “You have a favorite tree which you make sure to pass every day on your way to class, but one day you find you’ll have to get used to sharing it with a friendly art student.” Holy shit guys this 15 part series was so amazing. It’s 100% PURE FLUFF and PINING and gorgeous. Holy shit. Like I screamed reading the whole goddamn thing. Amazing writing by an amazing human being with some awesome humour haha.

19. @sinner-as-saint​ responding to an anon request? Amazing. | Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Request: May I just spice up your day with the thought of best friend/roommate bucky being jealous when you bring someone home HOT. AS. FUCK. Holy shit. It’s such a short little list of things that Bucky would do but ugh. I was dying reading it. I love me some jealous Bucky smut. 100% angsty fluff? With smuttiness ;) 18+ readers please!!

20. @alloftheimaginesblog​ prompted fic | Steve Rogers x Reader (I could be wrong here but I believe the gender of the reader is never specified? But the ring is a woman’s ring so?? @alloftheimaginesblog​ pls correct me if you want!) Prompt: Finding an engagement ring in one of their drawers. So fucking fluffy I needed a cavity filled after ugh. I loved it so much it was just a gorgeous piece of writing. Steve is a little piece of poop for not hiding that ring better I mean come on, you’re telling me you couldn’t have punched a hole, put the ring there, and then cover it up with like a cabinet or something??? jk i still love you steeb. 100% fluff!

21. Laser Tag by @stargazingfangirl18​ | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “You play laser tag with your boyfriend Steve and his best friend Bucky. Since you’re just a plain ole civilian, you gotta use what non-Avenger skills you have to avoid losing. Hint: those skills involve Steve and kissing.” Iconic. Everything. Wonderful. There is nothing I love more than Steve Rogers being a little sucker for making out with his girlfriend even when there’s a competition. 100% fluff!!!!

22. Under the Rainbow, Draga mea by @binkysteebnpewter​ | Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader I don’t think there’s an official summary ( @binkysteebnpewter​ pls correct me if I’m wrong) but my summary is this: GAYNESS <3 I love me some wlw content so when I saw this pop up on my dash, I couldn’t NOT read. It’s soooo good. This is a Social Media AU and the amount of meme usage in there I- it’s fucking wonderful. It’s still in progress though so you guys will have to pine after this relationship with me. I FUCKING LOVE IT. 100% GAY LOVE <3

23. A Fic in which Peggy Carter plays wingwoman because these two idiots are in love with each other but they can’t see it so our Queen needs to throw it at them by @1she1hulk1​ (please note I made this title by myself because I don’t think there was a title LOL @1she1hulk1​ lmk if you want me to change this xD) | Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader “the plot is bacially you and Steve go to see Peggy and she tells Steve to finally make his move” Peggy Carter is a fucking Queen and she knows that Steve is falling for you, because he just won’t stop fucking talking about you LOL. Anyways, this is a super cute fic!!!! Please go give it some love because this human being who wrote it doesn’t think she’s a good writer?????? Crazy. 100% FLUFF!!!!

OTHER FICS THAT DESERVE MENTIONING!!!!

So because this is my first recommendation list on this site, I know I’m definitely missing some amazing fics that I’ve read but never saved (I’m a terrible person I know). So I’m just gonna add them in this list here because they deserve love and attention too!

@wxstedhexrt​‘s poetry. Period. End of story lol. JK. So the ones that I’ve read that are on Destiny’s tumblr aren’t all fandom related (besides the one that I posted above) but they’re still really amazing. I’ve never felt so captured by poems before (mostly because i’m stupid and don’t understand a lot of poetry). Ugh anyways I love her poems so much so please go check them out! CLICK HERE FOR BEAUTY <3

Alright so I know a lot of you guys know @kayteewritessteve​ but if you don’t, she’s this super amazing writer with INCREDIBLE series. (CLICK HERE TO SEE HER FULL MASTERLIST). But one of my most favourite series by her, and one of my favourite series of all time, is: If Only You Knew “You arrive home one day to find a wedding invite for two of your best friends from high school. You knew this day was going to come eventually, but even with that said, you weren’t prepared to return home. At least not after 7 years of avoiding Buckhannon, West Virginia. Or rather, avoiding him; your ex-best friend and the secret love of your life. But maybe it was finally time to face your past, to face him and everything else that happened on that horrible night.”  This 18 (plus an Epilogue) part series will literally have you screaming at your screen being like WHY YALL CANT JUST TELL EACH OTHER HOW YALL FEEL?!?!?!?! 75% angst (because Kaytee likes to hurt us) and 25% fluff BUT the fluff is SOOOOO worth it so it’s like 100% angst and 200% fluff (i was never a mathlete). NOW since, we’re on the topic of Kaytee’s writing, I’d also like to mention: Love and War  “In a harsh medieval world, you set out on a perilous quest that will lead you onto a forbidden land. A land ruled and controlled by a ruthless Warlord King, one who does not look favourably upon trespassers of any kind, and punishes all with an iron fist. You may not know exactly where this quest will end, but what you do know is you will forever be altered by it. And that knowledge alone is what truly terrifies you the most.” so I read this while Kaytee was writing it about a year ago and holllyyyyyy shit. Okay. So. Listen. Fantasy? Check. Romance? Check. Amazing writing? Well it’s Kaytee so yea obviously check. I want to list more things but I don’t want to give it away! This is a 15 part series (plus an Epilogue and Outro) but it goes by so quickly once you’re stuck and waiting for more!!!!