#i should probably remove sunflower as a name

[sleep-nurse]

something interesting i noticed is that people mostly tend to call me willow on tumblr but on discord people mostly call me basil

but no one calls me sunflower (ngl that's my most unused name so it makes sense i guess)

[justmystyles]

Now You're In My Life - Part 3

part 1

part 2

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.8k (it's a shorty, but I promise the next one won't be)

summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-down.

warnings: some curse words, but other than that it's tame.

a/n: i am absolutely blown away by the reception i've received over the last couple of days. i just had these stories in my brain that i wanted to write down to get out of my system, i never in a million years thought anyone would read them, let alone actually like them. i'm so thankful for all of the likes, comments, reblogs, lurkers. thank you thank you thank you! 🖤

i say it's a plus size reader, while i don't focus a lot on that aspect (because your size should not define you), it will come up, so i just wanted to be upfront about it.

tag list: @bethanysnow @cute-as-ducks420 @gem1712 @golden-hoax @groovychaosavenue @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @youknowwhaaat

The day after your night with Harry, you sat at your desk willing your eyes to stay open as you reviewed the end of month report. By the time you got home, and the adrenaline of the evening had worn off, you only really got about an hour and a half of sleep. You figure you probably should have called out, but you had been holding onto your PTO so that you could end the year with two months of short weeks. 

You were startled by a soft knock at your cubicle wall. You turned to find one of your coworkers, hiding half of his body and displaying a suspicious smile on his face. “Hi Y/N.” 

“No way that’s a good greeting,” you reply cautiously. “What’s wrong?” 

“You always think the worst of us,” he chuckled. “I’m just here to hand off the delivery that just came for you.” He stepped to his left, revealing an elaborate flower arrangement. 

Your eyes went wide and you reached out to take the vase, pulling it up to your face to inhale the scent of fresh sunflowers, orange roses, safari sunset, and yellow solidago. The perfect combination of fall colors. 

“You guys got me flowers?” You ask. Sure, you worked with some great guys, but they were typical mid-forties construction guys, you didn’t think it would ever cross their minds to get you flowers. Especially for no reason.

“Not us.” Your coworker shrugged before returning to his desk. 

Even more confused than before, you place the flowers down on your desk, and remove the attached card. Pulling it from the envelope, her heart leapt as she read over the words. 

Thank you for last night. Especially that last bit.

-H

PS - This should also cover your train ride. ;)

They were from Harry. He was thanking you for kissing him. 

That’s it, you clearly never made it into work, you’re still at home in your bed. This has to be a dream. 

You sat back down, and reached for your phone on the other side of the desk. You didn’t want to bother him, but it would be polite to thank him for the flowers, right? Just one text, that’s not too much of a bother. He can read it when he has a moment and respond whenever he wants. If he wants. You take a deep breath, building up the courage, and quickly open up your message app, typing Harry’s name into a new message. 

Thank you sooooo much for the flowers. Completely unnecessary, but very much appreciated. :) 

Before you even had a chance to lock your phone, a FaceTime call from Harry lit up the screen. Your eyes went wide, you weren’t even really expecting a reply text, let alone a FaceTime. 

You swipe to answer, and before you know it, you’re staring at Harry who’s looking into his phone with that wide, dimpled grin. 

“Harry, you really didn’t have to do this.” 

“I know, but I wanted to. Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful. Really.” 

“Well, let’s see them then.”

You swap the camera view, the flowers coming onto the screen. You see Harry’s brow furrow and his head shake in disapproval. 

“No no no, this won’t do at all. I’m going to have to let you go. I’ve got to give that florist a piece of my mind.” 

“What?! Why? They’re so beautiful!” 

“I made it very clear to them that I wanted the flowers to be as beautiful as you are. These aren’t even close.” 

Your heart melts immediately, but you’re quickly snapped out of it by the sarcastic ‘awws’ and kissy noises from the cubicles around you. Everyone was listening to your call. You were mortified. 

“Y/N, can you flip the camera back around, please?” Harry’s voice rings out over the taunting of your coworkers. You quickly comply, and he starts to chuckle. “There’s that adorable blush. I wish I were there to pinch those cheeks.” 

You cover your eyes with your free hand before rushing into a nearby conference room for some privacy. You take a seat at the table, placing your elbow down and burying your face in your hand. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Harry says before taking a brief pause. “Well, maybe a little.” He chuckles. “But more than that, I wanted to make sure you know that last night meant a lot to me.” 

His words pull you from your spiral of embarrassment, you stay silent for a moment, making sure you heard him correctly before uncovering your face. “Really?” You ask tentatively. Harry nods his head with a sweet smile. “Me too.” 

“Yeah? Excellent! I’d really like to see you again, would you like that?” 

“Yeah, I really would.” 

“Great, New York City isn’t that far from you, right?” 

“No, it’s a few hours. Not a bad ride, I’ve done it a few times.” 

“Would you like to do it this weekend? I’m at Madison Square Garden Saturday and Sunday, I would really like you to come.” 

Your smile widens at the thought of spending the weekend with Harry. “Yeah, that sounds really great. I would love to.” 

“Great! Can I book anything for you? Travel? Hotel?” 

“No Harry, I’ve got it. I’ll book everything and let you know my itinerary.”

Harry smiles, and you can see the excitement in his eyes, even through the phone screen. “I can’t wait. Oh! And don’t forget your costumes!” 

“Costumes?” 

“Yeah, it’s Harryween! You’ll need to have costumes for the shows.” 

“Harry… ween?” You question.

“Yeah, it’s Halloween, and my name is Harr--”

“No no no, I get it,” You interrupt him, waving your hand at the camera. “I just… it’s cute.” You smile. 

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. I’m a sucker for a good pun.” 

You see a sparkle in Harry’s eyes, and his dimples re-appear. “I knew I liked you, Y/N.” He joked. “The costumes don’t have to be too elaborate or anything, you can just reuse one of your old ones.” 

Your chuckle at his suggestion. “I don’t think that’s going to work, I haven’t had a Halloween costume since I was like twelve.”

Harry’s jaw dropped at your confession. “You don’t go out on Halloween? No parties or anything.” 

You shrug in response. “Never get invited anywhere.” You pause for a moment, suddenly remembering the one time you actually did get invited to a Halloween party. As a plus one. You were dumped two days before the party, and it was too late to return the costume, so you threw it in one of your basement storage bins. “Actually, I may have something.” 

Harry could see the sadness in your eyes as you recalled the memory. He hated the sight, and silently swore to himself that he’d do everything in his power to make sure you never made that face again. 

“Perfect. I’m sure you’ll look stunning in whatever it is.”

You grin through your blush, a knock at the door brings you back to the present. “Well, I uh… I should get back to work. I’ll see you this weekend.”

Definitely. And I’ll be texting and calling you well before that. You don’t really think I’m just going to go three days without talking to you, do you?”

“I mean, you went all those years without talking to me before we met.” You shrugged. 

“Then I guess we’re going to have to talk all that much more to make up for lost time.” The sincerity in his voice makes your heart race. “I’ll talk to you soon, Y/N.” 

“Bye, Harry.” You smile before ending the call and returning to your desk. 

When Harry said you had to make up for lost time, you didn’t think he meant it literally. But he would text you often throughout the day. He would let you know what he was up to, ask you what you were doing and tell you how excited he was to see you this weekend. 

He had a show Wednesday night, and he had been texting you right up until the last moment before he went onstage. He asked if he could call you after the show, you told him of course. You figured it would be around eleven or so, which was pretty late for you, but you’d just go to bed and leave your ringer on. The sound of the phone would wake you up, and you could talk to Harry and hear all about the show before going to bed properly. 

The plan worked… mostly. 

The sound of your phone woke you from your slumber. Still half asleep, you reach over to your nightstand, swiping to answer the call. “Harry?” You say groggily. 

“Y/N? I can’t see you.” 

See?! It’s a phone call, what is he talking about? You pull the phone from your ear and look at the screen, you sit up with a jolt when you see Harry’s face on the other end.

It wasn’t a phone call, it was a FaceTime. He was on your screen, hair perfectly tousled from performing onstage. He looked amazing. You were in bed, hair in a sloppy topknot, no makeup, a couple of pimple patches, probably some eye crusties. And Harry wanted to see you. 

“I… uh… I thought you were going to call?” 

“I was, but I missed your face. I wanted to see you.” 

Harry wanted to see you. Not if he knew the horror show that was waiting for him on the other side of that phone. “That’s really sweet Harry, but I wasn’t expecting to see you. I don’t have any makeup on, I’m all gross and night face-y” 

“Turn on the light, darling. Let me see you.” 

Darling. He called you darling. Nothing that had happened over the past three days felt real. 

How could you say no now? “Alright, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You sigh and reluctantly lean across your nightstand, turning on your lamp. You look into the phone, Harry’s eyes soften when he finally sees you. A look of adoration spread across his face. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

“Harry…”

“I’m serious. Thank you for being vulnerable with me.” He had seen it the night you met, but your insecurities and difficulties letting people in became even more obvious to him the more he spoke with you. He wanted nothing more than to be trusted with your heart. He wanted to know everything about you; the good, the bad, he wanted you to let him in, and he was willing to take as much time as you needed. 

You talked for a few minutes, getting a recap of his show, talking about your schedules for the next day. But Harry could see you were tired, he didn’t want to keep you up too long. You said your goodnights, and he blew you a kiss through the phone. You smiled shyly and ended the call, placing your phone back down, turning off the light, and snuggling into your blankets. You drifted off, replaying your conversation in your head. 

Especially the part where he called you darling. 

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

cowboy!reader likes pop music I've decided. he also drives a truck that looks like it's a fossil yet runs perfectly fine. he knows about horses and will try to talk about old wild west movies whenever. definitely loved woody from toy story as a kid. 1000% baby talks dogs. goes to pride parades in full colorful cowboy outfit. can do bird calls back. stress eats sunflower seeds instead of smoking. the list of ideas goes on really

- 🦦

More (Not) Allergies

Okay, so I've only focused on the pop music for this one. Also it directly follows from 'Alergies (Not Really)' (which wasn't titled earlier but it was the one with Mia in). But I do have them all noted down (I'm working on the sunflower seeds on at the moment).

EDIT: Sunflower seeds one is now done and available here

Warnings: minor sad reader

Word count: 621

PART ONE

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23

"Hey, where's your cattleman?" Spencer asked as you sat down in your usual seat. 

"I er, I need to find a new one."

"Did you lose it? We've probably got time to find it before we take off-" Spencer said, already starting to stand up.

"Nah, I didn't lose it. I gave it to Mia," You said. "I'll go lookin' for a new one tomorrow,"

"Isn't that your favourite one?" JJ asked, turning to you.

"Yes ma'am," You answered, 

“Wait, is this the one you wouldn’t let any of us try on?” Derek asked, looking up from his ipod.

“That would be the one,” You said with a small nod.

“Oh man, you must be getting withdrawal,”

“A little,” You joked. "She's a special kid. Plus, I think she might’ve tried to steal it off me anyway. Y’know she called me old? Three times? Imma spring chicken,"

"I don't know about that," Emily teased, "You're nearly thirty,"

"'Scuse me ma'am, Imma spring chicken."

When the conversation dialled down, you sighed slightly, sliding your hands into your pocket out of boredom. You furrowed your eyebrows when your fingers brushed against a small chain. You gently removed it from your pocket.

"Where'd you get that chain?" You asked, seeing Mia fiddle with it, running her fingers along the links. 

She shrugged, "I found it on the floor a few years ago," 

"'s pretty," You commented, she looked at you in disbelief. "What?"

"I wore it once, it turned my skin green," 

"Maybe you're just a zombie." You said with a shrug

"Rich coming from you old man."

"Hey, you okay?" You look up at JJ in confusion and she motioned to your eyes, red and brimmed with tears.

"Oh, yeah," You clear your throat wiping your eyes slightly, "Allergies."

She has a knowing look on her face, but goes along with it. "Allergies are the worst,"

"Tell me about it." You muttered. 

"But," She whispered, despite the team chatting amongst themselves, "If you are… upset or concerned about anything, I'm always here if you want to talk about it." 

You pause for a moment, brushing your thumb against the chain as you frowned. "I-" You paused, "I dunno," You stuff the chain into your pocket as you looked at JJ, giving her a small smile. "'M fine," You gave her a nod, "Just missing ma cattleman, is all," 

"Uh-huh," JJ said with a raised eyebrow before she gave you a small smile, dropping the subject (not wanting to push you). "Alright, well, I believe we are all going for drinks, you should join us."

You look unsure for a moment before nodding, "A'right," You said, "Just don't tell my Mama I'm getting drunk,"

“Ooo cowboy’s finally gonna get drunk?” Derek asked with a grin, “How about you sing some good ol’ country music for us?”

“It’s gonna take a lotta shots to get to that point,” 

“Well, we have tomorrow off,” Rossi smirked. 

God damnit. 

“Y’all do know I don’t just listen to country, right?”

“Yeah, okay,” Emily grinned, “What else do you listen to?”

“I started listenin’ to er, what’s her name?... Arianna Grande, she’s a’right,” You said with a nod, furrowing your eyebrows as the team all let out a laugh (minus Spencer, who was just a bit confused). “What?”

“You listen to Arianna Grande?”

“She’s good!” You argue, “N’ she hits the whistle tones well. I listen to Dua Lipa ‘n’ Selena Gomez sometimes too,”

“Oh my god…”

“What?”

“You have the music taste of a teenage girl!” Derek snorted loudly.

“JJ, defend me here,” You said, turning to JJ.

“Sorry cowboy,” She teased, “They’re right…” You groaned, letting your head fall to the back of your seat. 

“God damnit.”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

sunflower, chapter thirteen

summary: in which they go to bone town 

warnings: having a nightmare, crying, fear of abandonment,  penetrative sex, a bit of dirty talk, praise, creampie, crying after sex

word count: 1810

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Glancing up, you looked over Spencer’s sleeping form once more, before looking down again at the sketchbook in your hands, checking to see if you’d gotten his hair just right. It had gotten a bit longer now, beautifully sprawling out over the pillow. Scratching a few more hairs onto the paper, you’d gotten it just right.

Taking a moment to stretch the hand that had been clutching onto that pencil for way too long, you were suddenly startled by Spencer waking up with a gasp. It took a moment before he noticed you sitting there in the corner and immediately took a sigh of relief.

“Hi,” he said quietly, letting a few tears run down his cheeks.

Jumping out of your comfortable position in the armchair, you moved to sit on the bed beside him, “it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Grasping your hand, he took a few deliberate deep breathes, “it was, um, I had a nightmare.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I, um… it was about Gideon, my old boss… and then Blake… and then-…” holing his focus on your hand, he muttered, “they all left me. Just like my dad did.”

Staying quiet, you just leaned over to wipe his cheeks.

“Everyone that’s ever meant something to me has left,” looking up at you, he whispered, “it’s only a matter of time before you leave me too.”

“Why would you think I’d ever leave you?”

“Because I love you, and people that I love tend not to stick around.”

“Spencer,” you called his attention, “I am not going anywhere.”

Scooting closer to him, you tugged a piece of hair behind his ear and continued, “the way that you make me feel, I’ve never experienced that with anyone,” moving your hand down his arm, you leaned closer to him, “I love you so much,” softly pressing your forehead against his, “I’m not gonna leave you. The only way that’s happening is if you kick me out.”

“God, I love you,” he breathed out and then pressed his lips against yours. The beard that he’d grow during the recovery scratched you slightly, but in a pleasant way. Feeling his hand travel up your back, in order to get you closer, you swung your leg over his hips and straddled him.

As soon as you were settled down in his lap, he slipped his tongue past your lips and danced it over yours. Pressing your body closer to his, you couldn’t help but grind against him ever so slightly, making him hum into the kiss. Feeling him quickly grow hard under you, your movements grew more persistent.

Softly moaning his name into the kiss, he pulled away slightly, “fuck, we should probably slow down a bit.”

“Why? Am I hurting you?” you moved back to look at him properly.

“No, Y/n, you are definitely not hurting me, just, if you wanna slow down, we can,” bringing his hands down to a safer zone, he rested them on top of your knees, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Do you not want to?”

“Of course I do, I just don’t wan-“

“You’re not, trust me,” picking one of his hands up and placing it on your side, dangerously close to your boob, “I want you.”

“You sure?” he searched your eyes.

“Yeah, Spencer,” you leaned down again to kiss him, “I need you.”

Kissing him deeply, he inhaled sharply as you started your hips movements again. Gliding your hands down his chest, once you reached the bottom of his shirt, you tugged it up. Parting, he carefully helped to remove it. Nervous that that might have done something, you asked, “are you okay?”

Letting the shirt fall on the mattress beside you, he smiled, “yeah, I’m fine.”

“Promise you’ll tell me if you are in even an ounce of pain?”

Slipping his hands under your shirt, “I promise.”

Leaning down to plant kisses all over his jaw, carefully skipping the neck and down to his chest, he played with your tits, squeezing them lightly, ending in a slight pull on your nipples, making you roll your hips.

Sliding your hand down to his groin, you palmed his hardness through his pants, “can I please take these off you? It’s really not fair that you’ve seen me naked, but I’ve barely seen you.”

Chuckling lightly, he replied, “I’m not gonna stop you.”

Crawling down the bed, you took them with you, pulling both his pants and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. His cock sprang free, hitting him in the stomach. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” you tossed his clothes to the floor.

Keeping your eyes locked on him, you hurriedly took your own off. It wasn’t pretty, but it was fast, even though you almost got stuck ripping your shirt off, the two of you just giggled through it.

Soon you were on top of him again, still giggling lightly, although that did die down when you realized just how bare you both were. You could feel everything.

Grabbing a hold of your hips, he grinded you harder down on his dick. Closing your eyes at the pleasure shooting through you every time the pressure was just right on your clit. Reaching your hand down, he quickly grabbed it, making you open your eyes and look at him, “wait, there’s a condom in the drawer on the right,” he breathed heavily.

“We can, but I’m on the pill, so I’m great if you just wanna…” your offer was cut short as he pressed his fingertips against your clit.

Rubbing in slow circles, “if you’re okay with it, then so am I.”

Not needing any more foreplay, you grabbed a hold of his cock. Hovering, teasing your entrance, you slowly sank down on it, till you were filled to the brim. Your legs quivered slightly on the way down. It didn’t hurt. Even though you knew that you weren’t exactly a nun, you were still a bit nervous about it hurting. But it didn’t. Not to say that it felt the same as riding a toy, this was very much different. Even just knowing that this was Spencer and not just some inanimate object lit a fire deep within you that you couldn’t quite explain.

When you were completely settled on him, you didn’t move, taking a moment. Brushing his hand over your thigh, he breathed out, “fuck, you feel amazing,” then looking you directly in the eye, he reassured you, “take your time.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at his sweet words, causing your walls to clench down on his dick, making him inhale sharply, “what’s so funny?” he smiled.

“Nothing’s funny, I just love you so much.”

Moving his hand further up your thigh, he came to touch your clit again, making it hard not to rock your hips. Looking down at him, brows slightly furrowed, mouth agape, you unconsciously slide a hand over your body, coming to rest at your left boob, cupping it and pinching the nipple.

Slowly you started moving your hips, letting out shaky moans.

Fuck, it felt incredible. Only just begun, but the high of it all made the end creep up on you that much faster than you expected. Whining his name, he cooed at you, “you’re doing so good.”

Keeping his hand’s movements up on your tiny bundle of nerves, you started lifting your hips further up, until just the very tip was in, and then you eased your way down again. Finding a good rhythm, you kept it deliciously slow, feeling every single inch of him.

Feeling not far off from cuming, you moaned out, “Spencer, keep doing that, I’m-, oh fuck!” arching your back, you let go. Supporting yourself, with a flat palm on his abdomen, keeping yourself upright, your hip buckled, desperately riding out your orgasm. Never stopping, he kept on stimulating you until you almost had you rip his fingers away from you.

Panting, you crumbled, laying down on top of him and rolling your eyes shut.

Stroking his hand down your back, he slurred, “I knew that would feel amazing, but fuck, that was so much better than I imagined.”

Your legs were trembling on either side of him. Keeping your face smooshed into his shoulder, you moved your hips ever so slightly, wincing slightly at the overstimulation, though it only lasted a few moments, hearing Spencer curse under his breath made your recovery quick.

Picking up the speed, you kept your upper body low, staying close to him. Feeling his fingers dig into your sides, maybe in an effort to help you along or maybe he just couldn’t help himself, you enjoyed the feeling of his control for just a moment until you remembered the state he was in. Reaching down to remove them, you brought them up and interlocked your fingers with his.

“You-, “you choked out amidst your moans, “are not allowed to do that.” Hovering above him, looking deeply into his eyes, “let me do all the work.”

Tightening his grip on your hands, he smiled, “yes, ma’am.”

Giving him a quick kiss, you then stayed right there, completely close, sharing his breath, observing every single one of his reactions. It wasn’t long before you saw his eyes struggle to stay open, and panting out a question, “where?”

“Inside, please, I want to feel you, I want all of you.”

It was almost like you could see straight into his soul as he came. Doing his best to keep his eyes open, you kept up your movements, milking him of every wonderful drop, the sensation only made you smile. Coming to a stop, you stayed there for maybe a little longer than necessary, not wanting to part from him. You closed your eyes. Jesus Christ, you loved this man.

His breath returned to normal after a bit, but yours didn’t. It certainly got more regular, but it also became wobbly. It wasn’t until you opened your eyes again to see a slightly blurry Spencer looking up at you with worry, that you came to learn why.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“What?” you breathed out shakily.

“You’re crying,” he pointed out, letting go of one of your hands to touch your cheek, “was it, oh, I’m so sorry,” he carefully pulled out of you, there forth slowly letting his cum leak out and drip down onto his lower stomach.

Confused you wiped your eyes, “I’m not sad, I don’t know why I’m crying, that was amazing.”

“Oh,” he smiled.

“I love you so much,” you cried, laughing lightly at the silliness of your reaction.

Letting out a soft chuckle, he too became all teary-eyed, “I love you too.”

Whipping your cheeks and planting kisses on them as well, he kept on whispering the proclamation on repeat, well after your tears had stopped.

next chapter

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[alwaysmarveling]

Call Me Back

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: death, a small sexual innuendo, and lots of commas and long sentences

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You and Wanda promised each other you would always call to check in, and Wanda’s going to do her best to keep that promise, no matter what.

The first time you met Wanda was… well, when was the first time you met Wanda? Was it when wisps of red flashed in front of your eyes, projecting images so horrific and lifelike that you all but collapsed in a heartbeat? Or was it when she stepped forward to shake your hand timidly, grief and determination filling the witch as she promised to make up for it?

“I- I wouldn’t have done it if I… we were just trying…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you had told her with a smile before confiding in her about your own missteps, how you’d wreaked havoc on all of New York with your powers of body modification after your own parents died, how Fury finally got the Avengers to catch you, and how they quickly became your new family.

-

“You mean they really almost burned the kitchen down trying to make you a birthday cake?” The brunette giggled later that night as you recounted the story of your sixteenth birthday, the two of you sitting comfortably beside each other on the living room sofa.

“Yup. And when Nat showed up with an ice cream cake fifteen minutes later to find smoke in the living room, Sam told me she freaked on everyone.”

“Excuse me, Y/N, I did not do any ‘freaking.’ God, is that what you teenagers are calling it now?” The two of you erupted into laughter, and the redhead could do nothing more than shake her head, a smirk playing on her lips no matter how hard she tried to conceal it.

---

Much like Nat and Steve predicted, the two of you became fast friends. You sat next to each other on movie nights, sang karaoke in your room when you thought everyone else was asleep (if they weren’t awake when you started, they certainly were once you were thirty seconds into Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”), and, much to Steve’s dismay, when you finally became confident with your ability to grow wings on your back, snuck out regularly for late-night flights around the compound.

But you also insisted on being there for Wanda’s training sessions, even if it meant you had to wake up an hour earlier. You cradled the witch in your arms when she woke up night after night with an aching hole in her heart before you eventually insisted you guys just share a room. And you promised her, above everything else, that when you went out for anything, whether it be a quick grocery run or a month-long mission, you’d let her know you were okay.

You knew the promise she pleaded you to make was a result of the anxiety she suffered. She’d lost everyone she cared about; if a simple text or call was enough to put her at ease, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

---

“Wanda,” you’d whispered, the teen immediately sitting up straight when she’d heard the cracks in your voice. “I- I don’t know what to do. I’m safe, but...” She told you to stay there, don’t move, she’d be there in minutes. And, with your brain unable to function enough to think of any other option, you listened.

Her heart broke at the sight of you, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself and your head hung, you feet occasionally kicking the wet sidewalk. The neon sign of the restaurant your date had promised to meet you at illuminated one side of your face, allowing her to see the tears that you had tried but failed so desperately to hold in. But the witch didn’t let you see her emotions, instead whisking you away from the unfamiliar section of the city, brushing the tears off of your cheeks and bringing you to the twenty-four-hour diner for milkshakes. She made a fool of herself in front of the waitstaff until tears flowed from your eyes once again, but this time, the crystalline drops rolled down your raised cheeks, aching from smiling too hard. 

-

When you had a panic attack during training because you couldn’t get one of your body modification attempts to reverse—”Wanda, I cannot be stuck with claws for hands, I can’t!”—she refused to let you hang up until the steady sounds of her own breathing calmed you down, the sharp nails receding and making way for the soft pads of your very human fingertips.

-

And when she called you after the mission in Lagos, you worked tirelessly to complete your own solo mission as soon as you could. You returned to the tower to find her holed up in the bedroom, news broadcasts playing nonstop on the television to remind her of the horrors she’d committed; accident or not, she told you, she needed to hold herself accountable. You simply shook your head at her, holding out your hand without another word. She didn’t take it at first.

“You can’t fix it, Y/N. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.” She was expecting you to fight her back on it, yell at her and demand that she take your hand, or perhaps you’d go the complete opposite direction and leave her alone, let her be swallowed by guilt and anguish, rip open old wounds and form new ones as she thought of how she tore apart families that were probably much like her own. You did neither.

Wanda’s green eyes remained fixed on your outstretched hand. You stayed silent, one eyebrow cocked as if daring her to see what would happen should she choose not to take it. It was only then that she realized, for once in her life, the person she most loved wasn’t leaving; the support she so desperately needed wouldn’t be yanked away from her when it was mere centimeters from her grasp.

So she rested her fingers in the palm of your hand, and you pulled her out to the balcony where the two of you had spent night after night watching the stars instead of sleeping, making up funny names for each of them and rolling in fits of laughter that only came to those delirious and sleep-deprived enough to understand just what was so funny. Except, this time, instead of dropping into the oversized beanbag chair that was the usual spot of your stargazing shenanigans, she watched curiously as you removed your shirt. Her mouth dropped as you closed your eyes and allowed the white feathers to emerge from beside the ridges of your spine. Although it was a process she’d seen several times before, your modifications had never ceased to amaze her, and your angel-like wings had always been her favorite. The witch admired the additions as you allowed them to flap slowly, once, twice, before turning back to her.

“Let’s go,” you finally spoke, the order gentle but leaving no room for negotiation.

“Where are we going?”

“Away.” That was enough for the brunette, who squeezed your hand before following your lead. She allowed you to guide her through the maze of clouds and couldn’t help but smile softly as the sun’s rays hit your face at just the right angle. You wore the exhaustion from your recent mission on your face, and streaks of dirt covered the bruises that she was sure littered your body. But she was content, in awe, because you were you. You didn’t put up walls to hide your scars from the world, didn’t use passive-aggressiveness to hide the passion that burned in your heart. At the end of the day, you were good, purely and truly good. You were an angel; even the sun knew it.

What Wanda didn’t realize, but what you taught her that night, as she sat surrounded by sunflowers, the moon, thousands of gleaming stars, and the tickle of your feathers as your wing pulled her close to you, was that she was one too.

“I’m glad you called me,” you whispered, your eyes not leaving the open sky as you pointed out a particularly bright spot. “I’m gonna call that one… Philip. He looks regal, real proud. Look at him, so much brighter than the others, and he knows it too.” The witch breathed out a soft chuckle, stroking her fingers over your feathers as she responded.

“I’m glad I called you too. And I think Philip is a good name for him. What about that one?”

“Hmm… Walter? He’s a bit more serious, I think. But you see the one next to him?” You waited until you got a nod from the girl before continuing. “That’s his sister. She makes sure he has fun, even when he says he doesn’t want to. But you name her, Wands. Naming stars is a two-person job, you know.” She squeezed the elbow that you nudged her with before giving in.

“Alright… that’s Delia. And, yeah, she’s the best. The life of the party. Walter keeps her grounded, though,” Wanda added, to which you agreed to with a hum. You two fell quiet after that, enjoying the comfortable silence and looking up at the twinkling lights, some of them gaining names and stories, others waiting to be named another night.

“Wanda?”

“Yeah?”

“You call me if you ever need me, okay? I know we started this with me calling you, but I’m here for you too.” The witch met your eyes with a firm bob of her head, but you continued, desperate to make sure she understood. “And if I don’t pick up at first, you call me back, okay? Call me until I respond, promise?”

“I promise,” Wanda soothed gently. “I will.”

“Okay, good, good. Because,” Wanda felt a brush of your feathers against her upper arm as you fluttered your wings, slightly agitated, “because I think I love you. I mean, um, I know. I know I love you. I love you. Yeah, I-” Wanda shut you up with a kiss, her lips pressed urgently against yours. And if you hadn’t lost your breath from your rambling or your declaration of love to the girl of your dreams, then you most definitely lost it as your lips melted into hers, in the comforting warmth of her palm against your cheek, and in the words that left her mouth as you finally pulled apart, breathless.

“I will, Y/N, I promise. Because I love you too.”

---

People thought you were inseparable before you started dating, but they all realized how wrong they were after that night. The two twin beds quickly became a queen-sized mattress, sideline support during training sessions became fierce yet playful spars, and the private giggles you guys shared grew tenfold. Fury wasn’t exactly happy that his unofficial daughter was now dating, but he was pleased by how efficiently the two of you worked together, which led you to this moment, the two of you covering the Quinjet while waiting for the rest of the Avengers to finish their business inside the massive Hydra base. With Wanda covering the ground and you in the sky, flying with the white-feathered wings that Wanda loved so dearly, the two of you held off the swarms of Hydra agents relatively well. With a small break in between incoming agents, Wanda looked up to check on you, but she was a moment too late. Before she could even think to warn you, the pure feathers she loved to brush her fingers through fell from the sky, the white stained with red, your screams ripping through her eardrums.

No one, including Wanda, had time to think as she exploded with a new rage, one that hadn’t run through her in years. One that she hoped she would never experience again, but here she was. And there you were.

While you were held in the air by her signature red mist, the opposing agents fell to the ground. She didn’t care about their screams, only yours. And with them all dealt with, she could turn to you, rushing you both into the Quinjet and yelling for the other Avengers to get back here, now.

But her efforts were futile. She could press down on the wounds all she wanted, beg for you to come back until her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but nothing would work. You were gone the instant the missile had hit you, and as much as Wanda wanted to deny the truth, she knew it just as much as your other teammates did when they rushed onto the Quinjet. You were gone before you could say a single goodbye.

---

The first time Wanda called was from your shared bedroom. She dialed your number before tracing the pillow where your head would have laid, running her fingers over the cartoon carrots that covered the comforter. The yellow bedding set was a gag gift Tony had gotten the two of you when you got your new bed.

“You know, since I figure the two of you will be going at it like rabbits,” he winked before getting immediately smacked in the back of the head by Steve.

“They will be doing no such thing,” the supersoldier had chastised him with a roll of his eyes. “God, Stark, sometimes I forget you have a brain when you say such stupid things.”

But you loved it, telling Wanda, “The carrots remind me of you, Bunny.” And how could she return the present when you were being so sweet about it? But the sheets didn’t make her smile in the same way they once did because you were gone. No one was there to tease her about the way her nose wiggled much like the little white fluffy creatures or promise to get her carrots from the market the next day.

The call went to voicemail, and as bittersweet as it was, Wanda savored it because it was you. Your voice. But the beep came far too soon, and your turn was done. So she spoke. 

“Y/N, hey, it’s me, Wanda. I, um, I love you. I’ll always love you, yeah?” The witch put the phone down, thinking that was all she could bear to say as the lump in her throat ballooned in size and hot tears filled her eyes. But just before time was up, her hand shot up to press the device against her ear again. “Call me back, milaya.”

---

The second time Wanda called was from the balcony. The brunette eyed the sparkling diamonds that filled the sky, wondering how you could be gone when, the last time she was here, you were right there beside her, laughing over the boys’ latest shenanigans and Ned, the newly named star. 

Now, the beanbag chair felt too big, too empty without another person sitting next to her. Without you. So she dialed your number, the only number she bothered to learn by heart, and waited for the dulcet tones of your voice. As the dial tone rang, she ran one hand over the white feather that laid gingerly in her lap. Natasha had given it to her along with several others a few days after your death. Each of the team members had one to remember you by, but the spy had picked out the biggest and most brilliant ones to give to Wanda.

“I know how much her wings meant to you-” Natasha stiffened as Wanda threw her arms around her. But the witch didn’t care, her tears soaking the redhead’s shirt as she tried to find the words to thank her. She couldn’t, but it was okay. Natasha knew anyway. Wanda had little time to reflect on the memory before her face brightened at the sound of your voice.

“Hi, this is Y/N-

“And her girlfriend, Wanda! She’s taken, so don’t even think about it, you jerk!” Wanda smiled slightly at your jubilant laughter, remembering how you’d pushed her away for interrupting you.

“I’m not available right now, but leave me your name, number, and message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can, okay? Talk to you soon.” The witch’s eyes closed slightly as the greeting ended with a spell of your giggles before it was interrupted by that damn beep. God, how she hated that beep. Nevertheless, she took a breath and spoke out into the clear night sky, looking up at the stars as she did so.

“Hi, lyubov moya, it’s me. Wanda. I’m calling you back, just like you told me to. I’m not okay. I need you. I love you.” Her breath caught in her throat, forcing her to pause for a moment, but she forced herself to keep going a second later. “Sam and Bucky did the stupidest thing today. Nat and Steve were all over their asses. You should’ve seen it. I miss you. Please, call me back. I’ll tell you all about it.”

---

The last time Wanda called was from the sunflower field. The two of you hadn’t been here since the night you told her you loved her. In fact, it took Wanda several hours to find it since she hadn’t been paying much attention to the route the first time you came.

Once again, the night was clear, the stars lighting up the dark canvas with their radiance. She missed the feeling of your wing wrapped around her, of your presence next to her. But she had one of your feathers in her fingers and your voice in her ear, and to ask for more would be greedy, right?

“Hi, angel. It’s Wanda. I’m calling you back to leave a message, but I can’t do it again after this because I don’t want your voicemail to fill up, okay? I’m sorry, I know I’m being selfish, but I need to be able to hear your voice, so I can’t let it fill up. But I haven’t forgotten you, I promise I haven’t. I never will. I’m still-” Wanda swallowed, a fighting effort to calm the waver in her voice. “I’m still not okay, but I’m trying. For you. But I’m not okay, I need you to call me back. I’ve named one up there Halia, but her twin sister needs a name. And naming stars is a two-person job, you know.” The witch sniffed once as the corner of her lip curved up slightly, remembering the playfulness in your voice when you’d first said the line. “Call me back, Y/N, please.”

With the message over, Wanda clutched the phone to her chest, her breaths becoming faster and shallower as she closed her eyes, trying to accept the knowledge that it’d be the last time she’d ever leave a message, the knowledge that she was really losing you… the knowledge that she already lost you.

---

Months went by. Wanda wasn’t sure how they did, but they did. The first sign of it was the first Halloween without you, as she saw the other couples dressing up in matching costumes that you would’ve loved, costumes you would’ve pointed out to Wanda with an excited bounce and told her you’d have to wear next year. The next was Thanksgiving, when Wanda ran through the list of everything she was thankful for and came up short when she thought about the people she still had left. And then it was Christmas, and Valentine’s Day, and the first day of summer.

And while Wanda did her best to move on, she always found herself under the stars, dialing your number. She sat on the balcony, in the sunflower field, wherever she could see the sky, and she listened to your voice telling her that you’d call her back as soon as you could, always forcing herself to hang up a second before the beep could cut you off. Wanda named every other star she saw, leaving the ones in between for you and hoping that you’d approve of the names she chose.

“I’m naming that one Angel for you, Y/N,” Wanda murmured. “It’s even brighter than Philip. It’s the brightest star in the sky. I know you think it’s silly to name things after people, but this one’s just special, so you’re gonna have to make an exception, okay?” The brunette’s lips stopped moving, but her eyes stayed wide open as she watched the star as if, if she watched it long enough, studied it hard enough, you would materialize from its luminescence. As if you would come back to her. But when you didn’t, she finally allowed her watering eyes to rest, her eyelids drooping to surround her in darkness.

“I’m not okay, Y/N.” The witch’s voice was softer than it had ever been, more tired. But this time, there was no one to whisk her off and make her forget the heaviness of it all. “I need you so badly. I love you so much. I always will. But, please, angel, call me back.”

[stiltonbasket]

Nielan fathers day prompt! Sorry if its late, but how about finding out they're going to be parents on Fathers Day? (mpreg, adoption, surrogacy, your choice).

anon: the first fathers' day after jingyi is born, modern lxc and nmj both set up a present for each other "from Jingyi." It's very cute. Baby Jingyi magnanimously chews on his foot and accepts giving two presents and meals.

this is for the art thief au, so lxc is trans here!

(ao3 link)

----

What should I give Xichen for Father’s day?

Nie Mingjue has been puzzling over gift ideas for the past two weeks, with no luck whatsoever. Jingyi is still too small to make them gifts, so he and Xichen use the occasion to exchange presents with each other and label them with their little boy’s name; Xichen probably picked out his gifts already, since he knows Nie Mingjue’s tastes like the back of his hand, but Mingjue keeps flipping through mail-order catalogues and crossing off their entire inventory as he goes.

“I have present,” Jingyi insists, as Nie Mingjue carries him down yet another aisle of their local department store. “A-Die, look!”

Mingjue looks. A-Yi is holding a six-pack of orange bath sponges, since Xichen mentioned that they needed some more earlier that morning.

“That’s not a Father’s Day gift, A-Bao,” Mingjue chides, kissing Jingyi’s forehead. “Last year, I gave your Ba a brooch with his initials on it, remember? It has to be pretty.”

Jingyi wrinkles his tiny nose. “Starfish?”

“Mm, the starfish brooch.” Lan Xichen has an impressive collection of jewelry, with most of it coming from gifts Nie Mingjue gave him over the course of their fifteen years together; and nearly all of the pieces are sea-themed to go with his husband’s wardrobe and his clear, moon-white skin.

Perhaps he could buy pearls, this time?

“A-Yi,” he says slowly, “what do you think about going to the discount shop across town?”

A-Yi is happy enough to go wherever his father goes, so Nie Mingjue drives to the discount store--full of discarded, overstocked, and secondhand merchandise from all over the city--and digs through the bins of jewelry until he finds an antique bracelet, strung with pearls carved into the shapes of starfish and clam shells. Jingyi nearly loses his little mind at the sight of it, and he squeals at the top of his lungs while Mingjue pays for the bracelet and bundles him back to the car.

“I know them,” he declares, when Mingjue gives him the bracelet to play with on the way home. “Diedie, it’s a clam!”

Mingjue glances up at his son’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Can you count how many clams there are?”

Jingyi flings himself headlong into the task, counting twelve starfish and eleven clams, and then he peruses the Learning Reader books Xichen keeps in the back seat until Mingjue carries him into the house.

His husband runs to meet them at the door, and it is this, not the driveway or their well-worn doorstep, that means Nie Mingjue has finally come home.

______

To Nie Mingjue, stepping into his woodworking studio feels like stepping into another world.

It isn't that the studio looks very different from the rest of the house--in fact, Nie Mingjue had a tiny nursery built into the north corner, since he set the studio up with A-Yi’s needs in mind--but Mingjue feels different here, more sure of himself, and aware of his own thoughts and hopes as he scarcely is anywhere else. He had only to enter, and he was changed: his hands steadier, his heartbeat slower, and his mind somewhere distant and immediate all at once. It is here that he pays homage to his heart, his muse, and the dearest friend he has ever had, or ever will. It is here that he pours pieces of his love for his husband into everything he touches, and everything he makes, and emerges with pieces of polished art like testaments to the husband he vowed his life to. 

“That isn’t a metaphor,” Nie Mingjue said once, when Huaisang asked what he meant. Mingjue has carved everything from furniture to lamps into shapes reminiscent of his husband’s lips, perfected the stems of wooden sunflowers to match the sweet arch of Lan Xichen’s neck, and burnished every last one of his creations until they shone like sunlight falling on the apples of his husband’s cheeks. He etches A-Huan’s expressions into the faces of statues intended for the foyers of upscale hotels, and into a thousand quarter and sixth-scale figures commissioned by model collectors, since he rarely has any excuse to sculpt his husband directly. But today he does, so he sits down at his bench and gets to work with a block of oak and his favorite gouge and chisel.

He will love this, Nie Mingjue thinks, as two bowed heads and a pair of smiles take shape under his hands. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever made.

He glances over his shoulder at Jingyi, fast asleep in the glass-walled nursery with his feet up in the air, and turns back to the sculpture with his heart quivering in his chest.

______

The sculpture takes about a fortnight to complete, almost exactly the span of time between the day Nie Mingjue begins working on it and the holiday it was intended for. Nie Mingjue wakes up early on Father’s day, leaving Xichen asleep behind him, and bundles A-Yi out of bed and down into the studio. They wrap the sculpture up together in Jingyi’s favorite gift wrap, and then Nie Mingjue carries him to the kitchen just in time to catch his husband as he comes stumbling down the stairs.

“Good morning, love” Lan Xichen sighs, burrowing into Nie Mingjue’s arms. “What should we have for breakfast?”

“Eggs?”

For some reason, Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“Noodles, then?”

This suggestion is met by a drowsy nod, so Mingjue goes to the fridge to dig out  a few ingredients while Lan Xichen hops onto one of the bar stools with Jingyi in his lap. He chops the scallions and garlic for plain noodle soup around their son’s little body, leaving Mingjue to boil noodles in one pot and stock with soy sauce and sugar in another until three blue bowls of yang chun mian are steaming on the counter.

“Smells yummy,” Jingyi yawns, while Xichen spoons fresh green onions into his soup bowl. “Baba, feed A-Yi?”

“He’s forgotten about the presents,” Lan Xichen mouths, as Nie Mingjue tries not to snicker. They eat quickly, slurping down the noodle soup with cups of soy milk on the side, and then Jingyi scrambles to the other side of the room before running back with Mingjue’s wrapped box in his arms.

“Father’s Day gift!” he squeaks, wriggling like a happy worm as Xichen laughs and tries to remove the gift wrap without tearing it; because Jingyi never lets either of them cover gifts with anything but Pingu penguin-printed paper, and he cries if anyone rips it up in front of him.

Mingjue used the weakest tape he could find, so that Xichen could extract the box with the paper left mostly whole. He hands the paper to Jingyi, watching as his husband’s slender fingers close around the base of the sculpture, and then--

“Oh!” Lan Xichen gasps, pulling it all the way out into the light. “A-Jue, I--”

The sculpture depicts him and Jingyi at the beach near their house--in fact, at the same beach where Mingjue and Xichen first met. Mingjue was sitting on a sandy rock, catching his breath after running around behind a hyperactive Nie Huaisang all day, and then he looked out over the foggy water and saw what looked like a water spirit drifting out of the darkness in a rowboat.

He sculpted Xichen seated on that very rock, with his long hair tangling in an invisible gale, and a little heap of shells (the pearls from the old bracelet he found at the discount store) piled up in his lap. Jingyi is standing on the ground at his feet with a wave of seafoam brushing his ankles; and in his hands is a small pearly starfish, offered up to his baba as Lan Huan leans forward to cup A-Yi’s cheek in his palm. Both father and son are smiling, with heart-breaking happiness in A-Huan’s eyes, and sheer pleasure at finding the starfish in Jingyi’s.

Nie Mingjue looks up at his own flesh-and-blood husband, tearing his eyes away from the wooden figure, and finds Lan Xichen sitting there, frozen, with tears rolling down his face as he traces the tiny ridges and dimples of stone and sand and water.

“It’s beautiful,” he chokes, rounding the corner of the table to throw his arms around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “It’s the most precious thing you’ve ever made, sweetheart.”

“The most precious thing I helped make is over there,” Nie Mingjue teases, tilting his head at A-Yi. “But I think this one comes pretty close.”

Xichen opens his mouth, and then closes it again; but Jingyi interrupts before he can say anything else, impatient to present his diedie’s gift from his baba.

“Now this one!” he shouts, diving into Xichen’s pocket for a small present in a wooden box, labeled with Jingyi’s name just like Nie Mingjue’s gift was. He all but shoves it into Mingjue’s hands, leaping up and down on the spot while he snaps the lid open--and then he screeches with delight as Nie Mingjue goes crashing to the floor, staring at the contents of the tiny box until his eyes blur over.

He had expected some kind of memento or trinket, like he usually gives to Xichen. But the box was so light, impossibly light--and it holds a pair of hand-knitted baby socks, set neatly on top of a black and white photograph with his husband’s name printed in the upper left corner.

Nie Mingjue has already been a father, already accompanied his husband through the endless doctors’ visits and checkups that came before Jingyi was born. He saved all of Jingyi’s ultrasound pictures, even the ones where A-Yi looked like a chubby white bean on the sonogram, and he stared at every photograph for so long that reading them comes as second nature to him.

"A-Huan,” he says, after a long pause. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming this.”

“You’re not,” Lan Xichen laughs, wiping Mingjue’s face. “I had my first doctor’s visit last week when you and A-Sang took Jingyi to the park. And the clinic ran a few blood tests just in case, so I already know it’s going to be a girl.”

“And you’re okay? Both of you?”

“Very okay, darling. I haven’t even had any morning sickness yet, and the baby’s perfectly healthy.”

Nie Mingjue only cries harder, at that; but Xichen is crying too, clasped in his arms while A-Yi climbs all over them, so perhaps it doesn’t really matter.

All in all, this is the sweetest father’s day he has ever had.

[misora-msby]

CONGRATS ON 300!!

Can I request 1.10 with Kyoomi please? Fluff if possible ❤️❤️

さぁ恋の魔法かけるから目を閉じみっつかぞえて

“i’ll cast a spell of love on you so close your eyes and count to three”

- ☆gimme gimme☆, SuG

(thanks on the congrats :) it became a bit longer than intended lol)

sakusa kiyoomi had to be one of the greatest sorcerers in the land, both in battle and in potion making.

great lords would hire him for his skills and most scholars would give anything to be able to have a conversation with the sorcerer.

he was rumoured to be so powerful he could do anything; from healing entire armies to being able to see the truths of the universe using the complexity of the stars, he could do anything.

but there was one thing he couldn’t do.

“good morning, sakusa-san, are you looking to buy more flowers for your potions today?” you smiled brightly.

“yeah. i just need a small bouquet of hydrangea and some dandelion seeds,” he replied while fiddling with his little coin pouch.

that’s right, he couldn’t get you to fall in love with him.

of course, for someone like him it would be easy to control your mind or to make a love potion but that went against his morals. using magic of that caliber for this kind of selfish personal gain was absolutely despicable.

not to mention once you fell out of the spell, you’d despise him.

“here you go, sakusa-san!” you smile and handed him the bouquets.

“mm, thank you, l/n. here’s the payment.” he drops a few coins into your hand, making you smile ever so brightly.

“it’s a pleasure, please come again, sakusa-san!”

the sorcerer took a few stops away from your little stand before suddenly stopping and turning around.

“is something wrong, sakusa-san?” you ask, cocking your head.

“from uh... from now on, you can call me kiyoomi. if you wish.” he says, his cheeks turning a light pink. he’s glad that his mask covers his blush.

“huh? but you’re the great sakusa kiyoomi! i’m just a little florist who happens to live in the same village as-”

“i see you almost everyday so... you might as well.” sakusa quickly insisted. you were shocked but quickly began to smile again,

“okay, kiyoomi-kun! you call me y/n!”

his cheeks had never felt warmer.

he found himself returning to your store almost everyday. though he didn’t always need the flowers, he would make a journey to your stand to purchase at least a small bouquet just to see you.

“you know at this rate, you’re gonna be the one running a flower stand, omi-kun!” you joke while packaging the sunflower seeds he requested alongside the three cotton flowers.

“i don’t think i buy that many, do i?” he asked while taking out his payment.

“well, i’d say i’ve seen you more often than everyone else combined.” you laugh and accept his payment.

his expression worried you a little though, did it seem like you were making fun of him?

“a-ah, don’t get me wrong! there’s nothing bad about it! it’s nice to have a friend! especially since like... you know... you’re really famous so sometimes people come because you use my flowers. then they ask me about you and wow, it’s funny. i realised i see you everyday but i know almost nothing about you!”

you did have a point. he would only ever come to buy what he needed, would make a bit of small talk, and leave.

but sakusa saw this as his chance.

“this saturday. are you free?”

“um... yes, that’s usually my rest day!” you replied, though you guessed he already knew that.

“then would you like to have tea with me? there’s also an interesting place outside the village i think you’d like to see.” sakusa asked.

though he looked absolutely calm, his palms were beginning to sweat horribly and his knees were locked in place to prevent them from shaking. he was very glad you had already completed the transaction so you wouldn’t have to see the way his fingers would uncharacteristically fumble with his coins.

“w-woah... is the famous sakusa kiyoomi asking to have tea with me? my, i’m going to be targeted by at least five foreign scholars now!” you joke, “but yeah! i’d love to!”

your cheeks were a little pink. sakusa thought it must have been due to the suddenness of the question, but you were rather cute with that tint. aside from that, he was ecstatic that you had accepted his offer... and very relieved his mask hid his smile - a sight that nearly no one had seen before.

a couple days later you found yourself standing in front of a portal in his potion room.

“step through this door.”

“it won’t take me somewhere weird will it, omi?”

“no. quite the contrary. i think you’ll like it.” sakusa calmly went first through the wavy purple portal, disappearing from your vision.

it was scary, but you knew he wouldn’t try to trick you so you held your breath and closed your eyes before stepping through the glowing light, hoping to land somewhere safe.

but you felt the floor give away and in that split second you screamed for your life... only to land in something warm?

“like i said, it’s nothing to be afraid of,” sakusa’s familiar voice sighed as he let go of you, allowing you to stand straight as he dusted himself off (a little habit he had whenever he touched someone).

you open your eyes and gasp as you take in the scenery - the biggest glade you had ever seen in your life, dotted with wildflowers of varying colours. a gentle breeze blew, making your sundress flow in the wind. in the distance you could even see a snow-capped mountain, one that was not even slightly familiar to you. and a few meters away in the glade sat a large white blanket with two baskets in the middle of it.

“omi... where is this?” you managed to speak in awe.

“it’s a far off land,” sakusa simply replied and made his way to the blanket, “come here.”

you walked towards the blanket, careful to remove your shoes before sitting on it beside the wizard, wondering what he had brought along in the baskets.

the question was quickly answered as he pulled out a mini stove, teapot, and tea cups. wrapped pastries and fruits followed, and soon a full meal was set up on the blanket.

“i’ll heat the tea. wait a bit,” sakusa said and with a snap of his fingers, the stove was lit to heat the water in the teapot.

the rest of the picnic passed by peacefully and in a blur. you didn’t even notice as the sky darkened into shades of pink and orange before slowly becoming a dark purple illuminated only the moonlight and a few candles he had brought. it was fun.

“i feel like i should’ve brought something,” you pout, “you really set up such a fancy picnic!”

“i was the one to invite you so i think it’s only fair really...” the wizard replied while packing up his belongings.

“still... i only brought a little loaf of bread,” you held up the cloth which was once used to wrap said bread with a sigh, “maybe next time i should prepare the picnic.”

sakusa blinked. did he hear you right? ‘next time’?

you seemed to realise it too and pink dusted your cheeks. “t-that’s only if you wanna! i mean... i wouldn’t! not that i’m asking you to take time out of your busy day to go, i just-“

“it’s fine. i’d like to- i’m not opposed to having another picnic like this.” sakusa smiled softly as he blew out the candles and put them away too.

his smile didn’t exactly go unnoticed by you though, and you couldn’t help but to grin to yourself.

as you two made your way to the door from where you two entered, you suddenly stopped right in front of it. sakusa looked over and raised an eyebrow, “what’s wrong?”

“i almost forgot!” you exclaimed, “since you showed me those flowers, i want to show you a bit of magic, kiyoomi!”

“magic?” he was surprised you had done that but even more surprised to hear his name from your lips. still, he kept his calm demeanor. “alright. show it to me.”

“close your eyes. it only works like that,” you instructed.

sakusa wondered what it could be, but did so anyways. even if he closed his eyes, he could probably predict the process of your magic and copy it tenfold. he could hear the hesitation in your movements and the nervous breathing. a spell of light? or a simple ‘magic trick’ for children? or perhaps it could be-

sakusa’s eyes opened when he felt something press to his cheek. were those your lips?!

his hand flew up to his cheek once you pulled away, gently caressing the spot you kissed which was now very warm.

“it’s a spell of love! i like you, kiyoomi!” your face was practically a tomato with how red it was. he knew his was probably the same. but to think... you liked him too?

he was only standing in shock for a few seconds, staring at you and unable to comprehend what just happened until you spoke up, “oh this is so cheesy, maybe i shouldn’t have done it. oh no. you don’t like sudden touch like that do you? you probably like me less now... wait, let me find a handkerchief.” you hurriedly searched your pockets for your handkerchief, fingers fumbling with worry in case you had just ruined your relationship with sakusa until...

you felt his lips pressed to yours.

he was certain he could perform any spell you could tenfold after all.

[sunflowerspecter]

flowers (a.h.)

summary: you don’t expect his request, but it immediately draws you to him. unfortunately, you’ll probably never meet him again. 

warnings: kinda gross fluff ngl 

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

words: 1248

note: okay this is loosely based off of this post. might do a follow-up to this one, but idk. 

It was a normal day at the shop. You were putting together an arrangement of sunflowers and humming along to the classical song that played when he walked in, a stern look on his face, in full business attire. He stepped up to you, and you could tell he was on the verge of snapping, but you could also tell he didn’t want to snap at you. You tilted your head at him. 

“How can I help you, sir?” you asked, and he bit his lip. 

“This sounds awful, but how do I give flowers to someone who I don’t like but have to give flowers to out of politeness?” 

You almost giggled at his rambled words. “Um,” you said, then you glanced around at the flowers around you, “okay. Geraniums symbolized foolishness and stupidity in Victorian times, if that’s what you’re going for,” you said, beginning a slow pace around the shop. The stranger followed you. “Oh, and there’s basil, which symbolizes hatred. Meadowsweet symbolizes uselessness, and yellow carnations can symbolize disappointment. Black roses symbolize death, which is a little bit more aggressive, but honestly, they’re my favorite.” 

He nodded, then shook his head. “If you were trying to tell your boss that she’s an idiot and needs to leave your team alone, what would you do?” 

You moved around and picked a few flowers, then moved over to the counter, and began arranging them. “May I ask what happened?” 

“I work for the BAU,” he said, then shook his head. “That’s FBI.” He paused, looking down at his hands, then sighed. “My boss has my team under watch because we make the hard choices.” 

You nodded, biting your lip. FBI explained the suit. “What does BAU stand for?” 

“Behavioral analysis unit.” 

“What’s your name?” 

He glanced up at you, seemingly surprised at the question, which made you smile. “Aaron Hotchner. What’s yours?” 

“Y/n. Y/n Y/ln.” 

“Do you own this place?” he asked, and you nodded. 

“Yes. It was my father’s, before he passed.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said instantly. 

“It was years ago,” you said. “My mother always says that he lives in these flowers, and this shop, now. I think that’s special.” 

He smiled at you, and his smile was absolutely the cutest thing you’d ever seen. “That’s beautiful, I think,” he said, and you could tell he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. 

You looked down at the arrangement in your hands, then sighed. “Well, here’s your flowers for your boss.” 

He stepped back (just a little bit), then said, “Oh, right.” He pulled out his wallet but you shook your head. 

“These are on me.” 

He almost refused, but you insisted, and you waved at him as he walked (into) out the door and out of your life. 

It was a few days later and you couldn’t stop thinking about him, when a very pretty group of women walked into the shop. 

“Are you Y/n?” one of them asked, blonde hair and purple lipstick. You nodded, and the other two (one with short dark hair and the other with longer, blonde hair) shared a look. 

“I’m JJ,” the other blonde said. “This is Emily and Penelope.” 

“We’re sorry to barge in on you,” Emily said, and you suddenly felt very exposed, “but Hotch got flowers from you the other day, right?”

“Hotch,” you muttered under your breath. “That Aaron fellow? From the BAU?” 

The girls all nodded. “He hasn’t been able to shut up about you, and he’s been so much happier than he normally is,” Penelope said. 

“He’s a grouch most of the time,” Emily said, and JJ elbowed her. 

“He’s too shy to actually come back and talk to you, but we figured we could come scope out the situation,” JJ said. 

You smiled, trying to fight the blush crawling up your neck and across your cheeks. You opened your mouth to say something, but all that came out was a nervous laugh. 

“I told you Emily would scare her,” JJ said to Penelope, who just shrugged, and Emily looked offended before throwing an arm over JJ. 

“No, no,” you said, then laughed again. “No, I really liked him.” 

The three of them all broke out into grins. 

“Okay,” Penelope said, “I have a plan.” 

~~~oOo~~~

You were a giggling mess the entire time. You had flower baskets scattered all over the BAU, which you decided you were going to keep doing, even after this whole scheme—they all saw enough darkness on their desks, they should be surrounded by pretty things, too. Your favorite part was the part that was the most suspicious. One of the other members of the team had a ‘spare’ key to Aaron’s office and let you in. 

You stared at his desk for a while, then put your vase of flowers and your note on top of it. And, all was going well, and you turned to leave, but there was someone standing in the doorway. 

“Aaron!” you gasped. “I, I was just.” You pointed to the flowers on his desk, but he was grinning, his cheeks pink. 

“Did Penelope put you up to this?” he said, his voice light as he moved into the office and picked up your note. 

“And Emily and JJ. And another man let me into your office. Emily called him Rossi.” You bit your lip, hoping that he wouldn’t read the note while you were in the room. And then, he did. 

White irises, for hope 

Sunflowers, for warmth and happiness

Pink asters, for charm 

Ranunculus, aka buttercups, for  attraction 

Peonies, for bashfulness 

In other words, I haven’t stopped thinking about you, and I’d love to see you sometime, if you like. 

He looked up and smiled at you. He opened his mouth, and then closed it, and then said, “I’d love to take you out. I’d say a specific time, but with my schedule, I don’t know when I’m going to be free.” 

You nodded. “That’s okay. Mine is very flexible.” He smiled at you. 

“I’m free right now.” 

“You just got to work,” you laughed. 

With a shrug, he said, “I’m not technically supposed to be here for another hour.” You looked down at your watch, which read 7:30 am. 

“Then why are you here now?” you laughed. 

He hesitated, then said, “My son’s school starts at nine, so I dropped him off at his aunt’s so that he doesn’t have to go too early.” 

You could practically feel the anticipation radiating off of him, so you smiled at him. “What’s his name?” 

“Jack,” he said. “He’s nine.” There were questions you wanted to ask, questions that didn’t seem appropriate, questions that made your stomach turn, a slight unease at the thought, but you decided not to, not then, at least. Aaron sighed, however. “I was married. She died.” 

A beat. 

“Oh,” you said at last. You shook your head, taking a breath, before saying, “I’m so, so sorry.” 

“If you don’t want—” 

“No,” you interrupted. “I know what you’re going to say,” you said, stepping forward, “but I want to get to know you. I want to see where this takes us.” 

At first, you weren’t sure what his face was telling you, but then, you recognized surprise. And then he smiled at you. “Do you want to go get coffee before we have to be anywhere?” 

You nodded. “I know a great place a few blocks from here.” 

“Then let’s go.”

tag list: (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed)

@quillvine​ @winterscaptain​ @agenthotchner​

last thing— 

hi y’all! i recently saw the episode with maeve for the first time and HELLO MY HEART? so am i writing  a fix-it for that? yes. that’s in the works and also i’m currently working on a really fun au and also i defintely wanna do some folklore fics so there that. however i wanted to write something in the meantime so i have a few one shots lined up for the next few days so yeah! much love, baby 

[salenakingston]

Mystery March Day 18 - Flower

Where was she now? Could she even define herself as simply ‘she’ anymore? The body was gone, taken away at the hands of that blue-haired girl. It was the same one from ancient times, and yet, at the same time not. It was impossible for it to truly be the same person. A reincarnation perhaps? Well what good does that do now? Laying who knows how far away as nothing more than a beating heart in the shape of a fruit.

Sight was meaningless, but noises could still be heard. There was enough awareness for that at least.

One thing was certain, this area was not the same one as before. Where the sound of battle once rang out, there was calm. The sound of insects chirping, and birds too. There was the feeling of heat beating down from the sky, though not as intense as it might have been against a black road. There was a subtle noise, that of wind floating by. At least this place seemed more like the old forest.

“How much longer are we going to keep looking?”

What was that? A voice? Out here?

“As long as it takes.”

Wait, that voice was recognizable. Was it her again?

“Vivi, this is stupid. You said when you hit it, it went flying. Who knows how far it actually went.”

Hit it? Oh right, she batted the heart right out of the body. Wait, but that would imply this was what she was looking for. Why? To get rid of it for good?

“I know it’s stupid, but this is important. Can’t you work with me instead of arguing? If Arthur’s making an effort then we should too.”

Who was Arthur? In fact, who was she even talking to?

“I know that Vivi. It’s just complicated on my end. I assure you I am actually trying. You try getting ‘buddy buddy’ with someone you’ve spent so long hating.”

While interesting to hear, what did any of this have to do with their search? If anything, the bickering was just starting to get annoying. Even more so as the voices seemed to be growing louder. They must have been getting closer to this resting place.

“Alright alright. Look let’s at least look a little longer. If we don’t find it then we’ll go back. Maybe the three of us can look more tomorrow.”

“Yeah, ok.”

It didn’t make any sense. After the fury she showed when the kitsune was harmed, why go through the trouble of finding the object she was keen to remove at that moment?

“Hey Vivi, what did it look like again?”

“It was shaped like a heart, see through, and it had a glowing, red light in the middle. Why?”

“I think I found it.”

It was being lifted, but into the hands of something strange. It was terribly inconvenient to only be able to go off every sense besides sight. Footsteps could be heard against the earth, so ‘Vivi’ must have been catching up to whomever spoke.

“Yeah, that’s it. Let’s go back home.”

Well, there wasn’t much choice in the matter, as if there even was one to begin with. Wherever they were going, this was going with them.

A rush of chill washed over all of them, one set of footsteps echoing off the wood floor. One? But there were two voices before. Curse this miserable state. The girl’s voice came back again, “Oh, Arthur and Mystery aren’t here?”

Mystery. Right, the name the kitsune accepted from his new master. If the body was still functionable, this would be worthy of an eyeroll. Beside that, why bring this back to him? He seemed content fighting back as well.

“Actually, maybe this is a good thing, we can surprise him.”

That was her again. Surprise him? This ‘Arthur’ or the kitsune?

“I guess so. What do we do with it then? Just give it to him?”

“No, of course not. So, I don’t know how correct this is, but the little tree that was on top of her head looked a lot like a bonsai tree. If we can get a pot, probably one a little deeper to fit the whole thing, I bet we could make it grow.”

Stunned silence.

“That’s a pretty big stretch. What if it doesn’t work?”

“Don’t be such a downer Lewis. I have a good feeling it will.”

“If you say so.”

There were a lot of different feelings going on now. The earth was familiar, though it was all around now rather than just underneath. There was something wet being added, probably water. Well, credit where it was somewhat due, at least this girl seemed to know some basic care. There was the sound of a door opening, the other two mentioned having come back. Oh, there was that feeling of being lifted again.

“Mystery, we got you a surprise.”

Wait, they spent all this time looking to be given back to him?

“Vivi, it’s a pot of dirt.”

“Give it time. You’ll see what it is.”

Why not just tell him outright? Why drag it out? These were some strange mortals the kitsune decided to serve.

----

How much time had passed now? It was a bit hard to tell. Well, one upside to this whole thing was sight came back. From the beating heart, a blue sprout had grown through the dirt. With care from the girl, Vivi, and the ghost from the empty plot and locket, Lewis, that sprout had grown into a small tree. Most of the time, it was the two of them handling the care of the tiny tree, if only to keep up appearances. When no one else was around, the kitsune had taken on a more human like form to do the care himself. The body had grown again, and so too ‘she’ came back.

It was just annoying she couldn’t move like she used to.

Still it was nice to see again.

That blonde one with the shiny arm had come over today, Arthur. His name had come up, but there was no way for her to put a face to that name before now. He’d joined the kitsune, looking over the blue tree with white leaves. There were buds forming along some of the branches, and soon enough would have pink flowers blossoming like before. The ‘dog’ had glanced over at him when he heard the blonde’s voice, “Hey Mystery.”

“Vivi bug you into coming over?”

“When doesn’t she? You know how she is.”

Two sets of eyes feel on her body, “It’s growing really well.”

“Yes. So she is.”

“Right, she. I’m sorry.”

Strange to make such a point about that correction. She was alive, but not really… ‘alive.’ The same body as before had been burnt away, leaving this much more natural state for her.

“She was important to you, wasn’t she?”

“As important then as she is now.”

If she could snort she would. How was she meant to believe that sentiment?

“My life has become full of regrets Arthur, so much it amazes me how the three of you stick around. And so she too has become part of my regret. Not for creating her, but that when caught between two people I cared about, I turned my back on her. I don’t regret my choice, but I regret what that’s done to her.”

“Regret is something we both have in common.”

Man and dog looked at one another before the blonde turned those understanding eyes on her, “I’m no expert with plants. Will you show me how to take care of it while I wait for Vivi?”

“Sure.”

Despite the one strange arm he had, his care was just as gentle as the other three. These humans were strange. Two humans and a ghost? Logistics. Unimportant. What mattered was them showing care for something that didn’t have anything to do with them. All for what? For a mutt that lied to all of them? It was very strange.

When night fell, her very being reached deep inside her. This wasn’t the first time these three came to her. When the blue locket had been picked up, each one in the form of a flower bloomed on her hand, only for her to strike them down before the lotus she’d been desiring shined. The others were forgotten about.

Each one of them was very specific.

A blue orchid with hints of magenta along its stamen.

A purple rose with a yellow center, it’s stem covered in thorns.

An orange sunflower that almost looks wilted.

When Mystery woke up the next morning, there were three tiny flowers curled around the base of the tree. There was no lotus bloom. Not yet. She was not ready to forgive him just yet. There was some comfort to this new addition she created.

[reds-self-ships]

THE ADVENTURE OF THE RED DRAGON WEDDING

Tags: Wedding fic. No particular TWs apply, but if anyone wants me to tag anything specific then please let me know.

A decent enough crowd had turned out to London’s Guildhall that day for the wedding, sat either side of a long, red-carpeted aisle in one of its rooms especially set aside for events.

There was Professor Yujin Mikotoba – Susato’s birth father and Kazuma’s adopted one, Pycroft Sholmes – brother of the detective Herlock Sholmes, a number of Redford’s classmates from the University of London, a number of Ryunosuke’s previous clients, the parents of Redford and Ryunosuke – Ryunosuke’s having flew in from Japan especially for the occasion…

Also in attendance was Ryunosuke’s family and cousin from America, Phoenix Wright, as well as his daughter Trucy.

All dressed in their best formal outfits.

If it were an event open to the public—and if anyone else actually wanted to attend—it would almost certainly be standing room only.

Q and Kazuma were stood by the head of the hall beside the lectern, where Mr. Sholmes—apparently an ordained Humanitarian officiant for weddings, funerals, naming ceremonies and bat mitzvahs since The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle—was due to preside over things and handle all the legal end of things with the City of London.

“Is everything ready?” asked Redford, stood at the back of the hall with Sholmes.

“Yes. Evewything’s weady.”

“Mr. Sholmes, why are you talking like that?”

Sholmes sighed. “It’s Pycwoft. He bet me ten poundth that I would be able to put out a candle with my tongue without buwning it. You can pwobably gueth how that one turned out.”

“You know what? I probably shouldn’t even have asked.”

“Either way, I’m weady whenever you are.”

“Alright. You can tell them to run the music or whatever.”

Sholmes gave a look.

“Sorry, play the music.”

Sholmes gave Q the nod, and Q, in turn, gave the nod to Professor Mikotoba, who had volunteered especially for this part, pressing play on the CD player that had been connected up to the rather make-shift sound system.

The music began to play as Redford walked down the aisle, with Sholmes following behind him. Sholmes was followed by Iris, wearing a pale pink dress, holding a small bouquet of sunflowers, red roses and pale blue chrysanthemums.

She was followed by Susato, wearing a matching dress.

Then the other groom entered the room. Ryunosuke Naruhodo entered, wearing a dark blue kimono with a shade of red that would look familiar to those who had seen the other groom’s outfit. The sash of Ryunosuke’s kimono was cut from the same material as Redford’s suit, and Redford’s tie was cut from the same material as Ryunosuke’s kimono.

Ryunosuke was followed by Gina Lestrade, wearing a dress that matched with Susato’s and Iris’s.

As the two grooms stood at the altar, facing each-other, Redford mouthed, eyes already beginning to water.

“You look amazing.”

Ryunosuke was in a rather similar state.

“You too.”

As the music ended, the guests sat down again and Sholmes took to the lectern, removing the prompt cards from his suit jacket.

NOTE TO SELF: Remember to write something nice to say at the wedding. SHOPPING LIST: - Milk - Eggs - Coffee - Caramel Bars

Somewhat flustered himself, he quickly shuffled the remaining, blank, prompt cards and left them on the lectern before clearing his throat.

“Mawwiage. Mawwiage is what bwings us together today…Mawwiage…a wather bwessed awwangement. A dweam…within a dweem…”

The two grooms shot Sholmes a look, as they realised that that particular speech sounded rather like something they’d heard somewhere else before.

“OK then. Uh, do you, Ryunosuke Naruhodo, take Redford Ninate to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Redford Ninate, take Ryunosuke Naruhodo to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“Great! If it were me, I’d probably call it a day there, but there’s more.”

The gathered crowd laughed.

“Please stand.”

The crowd stood.

“Marriage isn’t just two people getting together and having a kiss and whatever. It’s also the love and strength that we provide them as a community and as a family, by biological means or through the bonds of close friendship. So, are we all gonna help them and their marriage or what?”

“We will!” replied the crowd, before sitting down again.

“And now we have…er…Shizzen…What’s the word again?”

Professor Mikotoba approached and commandeered the microphone for a moment from Sholmes. “Shinzen Kekkon.”

“Yes. That, thank you Mikotoba.”

Kazuma stood between the two, holding a tray with a small bottle of saké and two cups. Ryunosuke poured a cup for Redford before pouring one for himself. Either groom took a sip from his own cup, before swapping and taking a sip from the other’s.

“I’m told that’s also a good luck thing in Japanese culture, but I’ll take their word for it. And now we’ve got vows to do. They’ve also written their own vows each which should be rather nice. Also – these are important. I’d recommend you don’t mess them up. Mr. Naruhodo will be the one going first.”

Ryunosuke took his flash cards from his pocket and cleared his throat as he began to speak.

“I, Ryunosuke, take you, Redford, to be my lawfully wedded husband. In recent times you have been a constant friend and partner, and all the evidence shows that we are truly meant to be together. And nothing will contradict that. So let’s get the wedding licence added to the court record, shall we? Lawyers should always smile and save their tears for when it’s all over, but I know every day I’m with you I’ll smile no matter what, and any tears will be the tears of laughter, no matter what trials may come our way, we’ll always .”

“Excellent, Mr. Naruhodo. Mr. Ninate?”

“I, Redford, take you, Ryunosuke, to be my lawfully wedded husband. They always say that a picture paints a thousand words, but any time I look at any picture for you I wonder if there really is nine hundred and ninety nine different ways to say ‘love of my life’. And if this is to be a fairy tale romance, I can’t wait to see what a ‘happily ever after’ looks like with you. Hopefully this is going to be the beginning of a new tale which I hope will be a real page-turner.”

Kazuma looked over at Q. “Are you crying?” he said, quietly, offering him a handkerchief.

Q unwillingly accepted it. “My hay-fever’s acting up. It’s all these goddamn flowers.”

“Mine too.”

“And if you two are done crying,” said Sholmes, “it’s now time for the rings, please.”

“It’s hay-fever, dammit…” said Q, as he handed over the rings from his inner pocket.

“Thank you. Please repeat after me: ‘I give you this ring, as a symbol and daily reminder of my love for you’.”

Redford slowly slipped the golden wedding band onto Ryunosuke’s right ring finger, saying: “I give you this ring, as a symbol and daily reminder of my love for you.”

Sholmes nodded to Ryunosuke, who slid the ring onto Redford’s right ring finger, saying: “I give you this ring, as a symbol and daily reminder of my love for you.”

“Very well then. By the power vested in me, the Great Detective, that Herlock Sholmes, courtesy of the Humanists Organisation and become-an-ordained-minister.org.uk, I now declare you two husband and…husband! I suppose you two can have a kiss or whatever.”

The two newly-wed grooms kissed as the crowd stood and applauded, Redford swinging Ryunosuke low in his arms and supporting his leg with his arm.

[itsnsfwalways]

Canyon Moon

A/N: WELCOME TO THE CANYON MOON FIC ! The chapters have to be split up and cut a lot shorter bc of sizing limits but I’m hoping you guys will still like it.

FIC MASTERLIST

WARNINGS FOR CHP. 1: swearing, mild drug use (weed)

CHAPTER ONE: the world’s happy waiting

The ocean has always been a calming place for you. Any body of water, really. The lapping of thewaves, the smell of salt, the course feeling of sand between your toes. It felt like home. So when you moved to Malibu, you found yourself lying on the beach until 4 am most nights, sometimes sleeping, but more often than not listening to music and writing.

Working as a songwriter for mostly just your friends, or as a fill in whenever someone wasn’t there, you were constantly writing. It was a lot easier to get deeper that way for you, not having to worry about sharing your secrets, and being able to mask it in other people’s voices. That being said, you had journals upon journals of your own songs. They were just for you, and occasionally your best friends, but it was something you were really proud of. After writing for the past 6 years, you’d like to think they were pretty good.

You’d gotten to your little spot around an hour ago, parking your pride and joy, an orange and yellow remodeled VW bus, which also functioned as your room most nights when you wanted to be out here, next to the sand.

The vibrant sunset had since dulled into a deep purple color, but it was still fairly light out. A small bonfire was lit in front of your blanket, keeping you a little extra warm even though it was still 70°.

Strumming your guitar, you moved away from the rock you were leaning against, a car’s headlights snapping you out of the haze you always got when you were out here. And also those two joints you had smoked already.

You raise your eyebrows at the fucking bright yellow Ferrari, hoping they were just stopping for a second.

Your prayers were ignored as a guy stepped out, a hoodie pulled over his head.

Shrugging your shoulders, you continue to play mindlessly, making up different melodies before creating a new one on top it.

Mr. Ferrari starts making his way over to you, which sends a flutter through your chest.

“Hey, just so you know, if you’re going to kill me, I’ve always wanted to die listening to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac,” you yell, grabbing your phone from your bag just in case.

The guy stops for a second and lets out a laugh.

“Definitely not trying to kill you,” he chuckles, and, oh, he’s British.

He comes closer and you come face to face with one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen. Wearing a black hoodie with the words “Treat People With Kindness” embroidered on it, that’s cute, a pair of grey slacks, which you wouldn’t necessarily think of for beach attire, but he makes up for it by completing the look with no shoes.

“Do y’have a lighter I could borrow? Damn thing ran out and the gas station is just far away enough for it to be annoying.”

You laugh at that and nod, tossing him a random one from your bag.

“I feel that. I’m Y/N. Where you from?” You bluntly ask, because hey, he’s cute.

“Manchester, originally. Live near here now. You mind?” He asks, and you nod, scooting over to let him sit.

You’re hit with the smell of vanilla, leather, and just rich as he plops himself down, leaning against a rock a few feet away from you.

He points to your guitar, lips curled around the joint for a second before he inhales and asks,

“How long you been playing? Liked what you were doing earlier.”

You blush at this, barely remembering what you were doing.

“I have no fuckin clue. 14 years? Got my first guitar at 8 and fell in love.” You over exaggerated hugging your guitar, getting another laugh out of him, before you spit out,

“Oh, and thank you! I don’t really remember what I was doing to be honest. Just get in the zone sometimes. Do you play?”

He looks surprised at this, looking at you closely for a second.

“Uh, yeah, little bit. Been trying to learn more recently and kind of get my skills up.”

“Good for you! If you ever wanna play together, I’m literally always here. You sharing?” You smile, looking at his face in the orange light. His cheekbones are illuminated perfectly and you feel your throat go dry.

He nods and hands it to you, watching as you press the filter to your lips.

“What did you say your name was again?” You rack your brain and cannot remember him introducing himself.

“Didn’t. Harry, sorry that was a bit rude,” He mumbles, and you look at him funny.

“Are you like an FBI agent, Harry? Why so secret? And harassing young girls on the beach at night? With a fucking Ferrari? Come on, man, what’s your secret?” You tease, bumping your elbow into his side.

He laughs, shoving you with his shoulder lightly.

“Only harassing that’s going on is you interrogating me. But if I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll leave right now. I should probably go, actually.” He rants, suddenly moving to get up. You turn your body quickly and lay your legs in his lap so he can’t move.

“You’re dumb. Secret, please?” You smile, blinking up at him.

He scoffs, shaking his head with a small smile, and pauses to run a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath in before saying,

“I’m a musician, so that’s where the car and secret beach trips come in. I’m actually just starting to write for my next album, and I’m hitting a rut.”

“Oh shit, that’s what’s up! You’ll have to show me your stuff sometime. Sorry that I don’t know you, I’ve been living on the road for awhile so I listen to a lot of oldies. Plus, with hippie parents you don’t hear a lot of new music,” You explain, gesturing to your van.

He looks at you for a second before shaking his head, smiling to himself.

“What?” You grin, shoving his knee with your foot.

“You’re something else, s’all.”

“So I’ve been told.” A giggle falls from your lips as you lay down on the blanket, legs still in his lap, guitar now discarded to the side.

Looking up at the stars starting to form, you feel his gaze on you. Trying to figure out who this chick was, what stories she had, what witty remark was just past her lips.

“Question.” You say, propping your head up. Your hand finds it’s way on the back of your skull and you feel the blanket shift slightly underneath your elbow.

“Answer,” He responds with the same tone, tapping your knees with his fingertips.

“Would you wanna come with me so I can get a tattoo?”

He stops for a second and stares at you.

“Like, right now? You got an appointment?”

You grin and move off of him, ruffling his hair.

“Even better. I got cool friends.”

He takes his time packing up all your stuff, being as cautious enough to remind you not to cover the fire with sand in case someone stepped on it.

“This is my beach, Ferrari. No one comes here. Except handsome British guys, apparently.”

He looks up from the ground, where he’s stuffing your towel into your bag, and throws you a smirk.

“Thanks, baby. You’re gorgeous as well,”

“Blegh. Let me come introduce you to Sunflower,” you fake shudder at the pet name and he grins, pinching your side so he can laugh at your little jump.

You lead him over to your van, opening up the side door to show off your renovated home.

The entire thing was orange with white trim, big yellow sunflowers painted on the sides. The ceiling inside was painted a dark blue, the walls painted yellow.

A meditation rug was lying on the floor, a light brown wood flooring that matched the cabinets attached to the ceiling.

Your bed was all the way in the back, a simple white comforter on it. A mirror hung next to it, attached to the bathroom door. There was a small kitchen counter complete with a sink and a stovetop next to it. A small table folded out behind the drivers seat where a lounge area was located, orange cushions and fairy lights decorating the little couch.

All in all, it was a tiny fucking house in a car and you treated it like your baby.

“This is fucking sick,” he says, looking at the different artwork, posters, and decorations hanging all over the walls and cabinets.

“Thanks! Did it myself. Spent all summer working on it a few years back, I’m damn proud of it.”

There’s a pause for a second, trying to figure out how to best work this out.

“I’m cool to just leave my car here if you’re down to drive me. We’re going to one of my guy friends’ studio about thirty minutes from here,” you suggest, having a feeling Harry wouldn’t be down to leave his car here, no matter how secluded it was.

“Uh, okay. Should I be worried? Who knows what scoundrels you hang out with?” He teases, watching you go into the van to grab some things.

You glance back at him, laughing, before your breath catches in your throat. He’s since removed his hoodie and is left in a white tank top with small black print on the rib cage. Making a mental note to figure out what it says later, your eyes can’t help but drift to his arms. Illuminated in the car light, his biceps bulge as he rests his hands on the roof, leaning forward slightly into the car.

His tongue traces along his teeth, landing itself in his cheek as he watches you check him out.

“See something you like?” He asks, raising his eyebrows like he’s genuinely curious.

Your eyes flick back to his smirking face and you blink for a second, before responding with,

“Yeah, was trying to figure out what asshole uses a word like ‘scoundrel’ in 2018, what the fuck, Harry?”

He barks out a laugh and brings his fist up to his mouth to cover it, the other one coming down to hold his stomach.

“When you are done appreciating my humor, I need to change real quick. Spin around, please,” You come up from your squat and pull off your sweatshirt, not waiting for him to do that.

“Jesus, Y/N,” He exhales, spinning around and looking up at the sky.

“What? I gave you a warning,” you giggle, sliding your sweatpants down to slip into a pair of black volleyball shorts.

“By about half a second!” Harry exclaims. “You’re killing me.”

“Sorry, superstar, nobody is exempt from special treatment here.” You roll your eyes at yourself, what the fuck are you even saying.

“Mkay, you’re good.”

Harry spins around, eyes taking in your new outfit.

On top of your shorts was a giant Stevie Nicks shirt, one from her White Winged Dove tour.

“Shit, you might be a bigger Stevie fan than I am, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Fuck, you have no idea. My dad went to the fucking final show of this tour and met my mom in the crowd during Dreams. My mom made him play it when I was born because she swore Stevie brought me to them.”

You catch him staring at you and turn your head away, cheeks burning because you’re rambling and need to shut the fuck up.

He clears his throat and takes a breath before starting.

“Promise not to kill me when I tell you this?”

Holding your hand to your burning cheeks, you murmur,

“No.”

“Y/N!” Harry exclaims, finally coming in the van to tickle you.

“Okay, okay, I promise not to kill you,” You mock, waving your hands around.

“I was lucky enough to sing one of my songs with her along with Landslide and Leather and Lace.”

You drop your bag onto the ground as your jaw drops.

“Shut up. I don’t believe you.” You cross your arms over chest. “I don’t know if I’d be angrier if you’re lying or if it actually happened. Holy shit am I jealous.”

“Oh, I was crying onstage, losing my shit. She is, everything. Dreams was the first song I learned the words to, yknow? She truly is a magical being.”

“God. I’m definitely looking you up later because who the fuck sings one of THEIR songs with Stevie Nicks.” You sigh, leaning over to grab your bag and Doc Martens.

“Oh god.” Harry laughs, running a hand through his hair again, looking at you really intensely for a second.

“Not to sound like a dick, but do you really not know who I am?”

“I mean if you need your ego boosted I can lie?” You offer, before dropping the witty responses.

“But no, sorry. Like I said, I just.... don’t really listen to new music, and if I do it’s always my friends or some indie shit with an overused beat.” Harry laughs at that and you smile, yes, he’s not weirded out.

“Don’t apologize, please. I just, can’t be too sure, yknow? People like to use you, especially here. And you’re just a little too perfect to be true,” he sighs, pulling you closer to him by your waist.

Placing you hands on his chest, you look at him for a second before leaning forward and whisper in his ear,

“My tattoo awaits me, baby. Let’s go.”

He groans and leans his head on your shoulder, before letting you go and grabbing your bag for you.

Such a gentleman, you think to yourself, locking up Sunflower.

“Does your car have a cool name?” You ask, after buckling you, fingertips appreciating the rich black leather seat.

“Nope, but I’m good at nicknames. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say normal terms of endearment aren’t your thing?” He asks, making eye contact with you for a quick second as he puts his arm behind your seat before stretching slightly to look behind him as he pulls puts the car in reverse.

Looking up for a quick second, you remind yourself to breathe.

“You would be correct. Gotta use your brain if you wanna get me all jittery,” you tease, fanning yourself over exaggeratedly.

He gives you a side eye and smirks at you, popping a piece of gum in his mouth and raising his eyebrows, as if to say, game on.

“So where am I going?” He asks, starting to drive away from your special spot.

“Let us ask the oracle!” You hold out your phone like a trophy, before laughing to yourself and bringing up Google Maps.

Propping your phone up in the cupholder, you sit cross legged in just your socks in his seat, fidgeting with your hands for a second.

“I’m kind of intrigued on who you are now. What’s your story?” You ask, turning your head to look at him.

Harry glances over at you, eyes drifting to your bare legs for a second.

“Well, the short version, I guess, is I grew up in a little town in England with my mum and my sister, applied to X-Factor when I was 16, got put into a band called One Direction with four other lads, released couple albums with them until end of 2015. Then did a movie called Dunkirk, wrote and released my first solo album, and toured it. Just got back from tour about a month ago, actually.”

You look at him blankly for a second, and he shifts in his seat, removing one of his hands from the wheel to place it on the armrest.

“Holy SHIT am I unaccomplished,” you exclaim, hitting him in the chest.

“Hey!” he yells, but you cut him off.

“How many fucking albums is a couple? And how old are you, my god. That is impressive.”

“I’m 24, that probably should’ve been said before we’re alone in a car together. And 5 albums, in 5 years. Nearly killed us.”

“I’m 22. Damn, dude, that’s insane. It sounds like they horribly overworked you and I am hoping you were generously compensated and had a bit of musical freedom. I know how the music industry can be with boy bands.”

He nods for a second, licking his lips slightly, trying to figure out how to phrase his response.

“I’m not going to lie, there are some definite perks and I am so incredibly lucky to just be able to do what I love as my job.” His fingers find their way to his bottom lip, pinching it slightly. “It was fun, I mean, you throw a bunch of teenagers together and give them celebrity status? We were insane, and I enjoyed it. But.... it felt like I wasn’t a person anymore. I was just ‘Harry Styles from the boyband One Direction’.”

“I don’t necessarily understand but I think the fact that you came out this respectful and real says something. You seem to have your shit properly together, and, even if you don’t, you got back from tour two months ago! You deserve some relaxation. The world’s happy to wait for you to find yourself a little.”

Pausing for a second, you place your hand on his arm, squeezing it lightly before swearing,

“I hope you know I’m being genuine about not knowing you and latching on for fame. I’ll let your parents know my intentions with their son are all very pure.”

He laughs at that, glancing at you again,

“I appreciate you saying that. This life is wonderful, like I said, but it’s very stressful and puts pressure on every relationship. There’s always going to be stories or photos and rumors spread like wildfire.”

You shift in your seat, understanding that this was a very serious issue for him.

“Listen, I’ll let you know up front that that doesn’t bother me. I’ve dated musicians and know the life, I get it. I think you’re cool and that we could have a fun time experiencing real life together. But before we do that, you need to have fun and let everything the fuck GO. I’ll promise you right now, if you let me stick around, you’ll experience what life is. No fame or pining for success bullshit, no offense, but there’s no need for it. If you’re happy doing what you’re doing, no one can tell you you’re not successful.” Harry stops the car at a red light and fully turns to look at you.

He exhales harshly before grinning. “You are a breath of fresh fucking air, Y/N. I think you’re going to change my life, if I’m being honest here.”

“Here’s hoping,” you grin.

A/N: THE OFFICIAL FIRST CHAPTER IS UP !!! I’m hoping you guys will come to love this fic as much as I do. I’ll try to find a writing schedule that works with you guys and my work schedule, so sorry if chapters take a little bit to come up. This is going to be a looooong fic, so buckle up, turn that old lover’s hippie music on, and enjoy !!

- lana <3

[snapdragon-mina]

Sunflowers and Snakes

Pairing: Dabi x Reader x Hawks

A/n: Written for the Bnha spring time event. Hi @amaamajiki , I'm your anon! I really hope you like this lmao.

Word Count: 2.25k

Warnings: Sorta spoilers for bnha, swearing, blood mention, Suggestive themes(Very very minor)

For the first time in about a month, You could go home on time. The restaurant you worked in constantly asked for you to work overtime. The only reason you continuously agreed was for that sweet sweet paycheck. Fortunately, everyone else was at work and did their jobs, so you were free to go home and cuddle the shit out of your dog. 

When you got home, all you could hear was the sound of paws on wood before your life flashed before your eyes. Seems your dog missed you a little too much because he pounced, knocking you off balance, and eagerly started licking your face. 

"Okay! Okay! Hey let's make a deal. If you get off of me, I'll give you a surprise?" You held your dog away from your face with one arm, while wiping off the sheer amount of dog slobber that was on your face with the other. The dog paused as if he were thinking before moving off of you and sitting down with a sharp bark. 

"That's a good boy." You smiled at him before turning on the TV for background noise. You walked into the kitchen to fix your dog's food. After pouring the food into the bowl, you stuck a lil treat in there. Boom! Recipe for a happy Schnauzer. The moment you sat the bowl down, he shot forwards and barely gave you back out of the way. 

Shaking your head, you walked back into your living room and sat on the couch. Moments of complete peace were hard to come by. After the fall of All Might, nobody was really safe. I mean, Endeavor doesn't give a shit about his fans, so why should you trust him to protect you? 

From what you gathered, the number two hero, Hawks has actually started searching for his soulmate. When asked to show off his tattoo, he refused. Something about "The thrill of the hunt". 

Tattoos are typically two of a kind. Only two people would have the same tattoo. Speaking of soulmate tattoos, Yours was a Snake winding around a single sunflower. It was actually huge, since it covered your entire left arm. It was a really cool design when you think about it.

A small whine managed to shake you out of your thoughts. You got up, grabbed the yellow leash, and hooked it to the matching yellow collar your dog wore. "Come on pretty pup, it's been awhile since I've had time to go on a walk, huh?"

He barked in response as his stubby little tail wagged rapidly. You opened the door and locked it behind you before letting yourself be led by your dog. Around five minutes into the walk, you felt your arm grow warm. Apparently your soulmate was close. It was like a game of hot and cold until you bumped into a guy with a black trenchcoat. Your arm felt extremely hot, so you looked at him. 

"You gonna apologize? You were the one that bumped into me." He had a relatively bored tone of voice. He was eerily calm for someone to be in this scenario. It felt like his eyes were staring deeply into your soul.

"Yeah uh, sorry… But-" You couldn't even finish your sentence, because he walked off with a dismissive wave. You wanted to follow after him, but your dear dog had decided he wanted to shit right then and there. You were forced to wait on him to finish. 

After cleaning up and disposing of the waste, you just decided to go back home to get some much deserved rest.

•••

Two weeks later, you had a day off and it was really nice outside, so why not go for a walk through the forest? You went through your typical morning routine and got dressed. You fed your dog and took him out for a bit. "Alright pup, I'll be back soon, okay?" You blew a lil air kiss and left the house. 

After roughly 15 minutes, you reached a clearing in the forest. It was peaceful and nothing seemed to be out of place. There was a river a few steps away from you, and all sorts of flowers blooming. The trees actually provided very nice shade. You wouldn't mind living out here or at least somewhere just as peaceful as it was out here.

You took a deep breath and sat on a nearby stump, just taking in nature. You didn't get to enjoy the peace for long, due to the sudden burn on your left arm. Your soulmate was quickly approaching your location. You glanced around, but didn't see anyone. Yet your arm was getting warmer and warmer. 

Suddenly, a voice spoke out. "You're the person from that night, right?"

You recognized that voice. You focused on where the sound came from and fixated on where he was standing. He was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. "Yeah, I am. Hey can I-"

"I'm not your soulmate." He interjected. You shot him a confused look. There was no way you were wrong about this. "Don't believe me? I don't even have a tattoo." He held up both of his scarred arms. 

This only served to confuse you more. "Yeah no, I'm right. There's no fucking way I'm wrong." You shot back. He raised an eyebrow at you. 

"Are you sure about that? People are born without soulmates, y'know." He said.

"Let's say you aren't my soulmate. Why the hell did you follow me here?" You sighed, already annoyed that he ruined your perfectly peaceful moment. 

"Because I know who is." 

"Why would you help me? You don't seem like the type to help someone just out of the kindness of your heart." You narrowed your eyes and he laughed. He laughed at you. 

"Oh trust me, I'll be getting a pretty little payment for this," His eyes shone with amusement. "Follow me."

He walked off. Bold of him to assume you were gonna follow him. You stayed put for a moment before ultimately realizing it was useless. You had to speed walk to catch up to him. He walked out of the forest and towards a building that was pretty much hidden from view. 

Your arm was still extremely warm, due to you being close to the strange man. Hold on. You don't even know his name and yet you followed him to some secluded building where he's probably gonna-

"Dabi." 

The statement broke you out of your train of thought. That was… weirdly coincidental. He suddenly announced his name just as your mind began to wander. "Yeah… I'm Y/l/n Y/n…" 

He just hummed in response, as he continued to lead you through the strange building. Eventually the two of you came to a stop. The both of you stood in front of a door that had been painted red. He didn't even bother knocking and simply opened the door, revealing none other than the number two hero. 

Hawks' head perked up at the sound of the door opening and grinned lazily. "Hey, thanks again for bringing her." He had a glint in his eyes. Like he knew something you didn't. 

"Mhm. I'm expecting my… you piece of shit." Dabi trailed off before there was suddenly emotion in his voice. It definitely wasn't a good one. Had something happened between the two of them? Should you leave? Yeah… you definitely should. Dabi seemed extremely hostile and you were getting bad vibes. You went to take a step back but paused when you felt a hand tightly grip your wrist. 

"Huh?"

"You aren't going anywhere" His eyes were still focused on Hawks. Nobody moved for a moment before suddenly, the hostility drained from the air. Dabi let go of your wrist and walked out of the room. 

"Hawks-"

"Call me Keigo."

"Okay, Keigo… can you explain to me why I'm here?" The past like 5 minutes was a trip from start to finish and you really wanted answers. Keigo patted the spot next to him, so you took a seat and waited for him to start. 

"Your arm still feels really warm despite Dabi no longer being in the room, right?" His feathers ruffled slightly as a breeze drifted through the window. You nodded, unsure of what to think before it hit you. His grin got wider and he removed his jacket. "Well, Y/n, we're soulmates." He held out his left arm for you to see. Low and behold, The exact same tattoo was covering it. 

You felt extremely happy that you'd found your soulmate, but still extremely confused. How did your tattoo still burn in Dabi's presence if Hawks was your soulmate? It didn't make sense. 

"I should probably explain Dabi since he won't do it himself, and you're probably hella confused. Dabi is also our soulmate." 

That… that actually makes sense. You nod as Hawks explains everything and suddenly he gets to a topic that you'd been curious about for a while now.

"Because of his scarring, he no longer has the tattoo. But nature had him covered because he developed a telepathic connection to both of us. Aka, he can very easily read our minds."

That made even more sense. But that doesn't explain why he refused you as a soulmate. You shook off that thought and decided to get to know Hawks a little better. Eventually the two of you came to an agreement. Since you liked to cook, and he liked eating, sometime this month, you'd bake or fry chicken for him. 

It was starting to get dark and your dog probably missed you, so you decided to try to find Dabi. 

Dabi did not want to be found. It took you 30 minutes to finally get to him, and when you did he ignored any small talk you tried to initiate. Eventually he grew tired of your shit. "Look, I'm not your soulmate. Leave me alone."

"Yeah? Bullshit. Hawks explained everything to me. Why are you brushing me off?" 

"I don't fucking need a soulmate. Certainly not someone like you or Hawks." He snarled, turning on his heels to walk away. 

"I don't care about what you think you need. You need us, you can't deny that!" You argued back. You were really starting to get sick of this.

"I can and I will." 

And with that, he walked away. You balled your hands into fists tightly. You would've stayed, but your dog needed someone to take care of him.

•••

Almost a month had gone by since that argument, between you and Dabi and you hadn't heard from him since. Hawks moved in and actively bothered the hell out of your dog. He would complain about him biting his feathers, but you would often catch him sleeping with y/d/n curled up at his side. 

You were in the middle of baking cookies when a crash could be heard from within the house. You grabbed a kitchen knife and went to investigate the sound. It couldn't have been the dog, he was asleep when the crash was heard. Silently walking into the room the sound was heard from, you were kinda shocked to see him. 

He had numerous cuts in various sizes on his body. All of them were bleeding. "I just need somewhere to lay low for a bit, I'll be gone by morning." 

"Dabi…" Your heart ached at the sight of him, but you refused to be someone he could walk all over. "Get out."

It seemed like he was too preoccupied to listen to your thoughts, because your words shocked him. "...Out? Y/n, it's me." 

"I know. But you said you didn't need us, yet here you are." You stood your ground and he stared up at you for a moment. He was analyzing you, seeming like he was studying you for a weakness he could exploit. 

He let out a sigh and spoke under his breath. You raised an eyebrow at this and he cleared his throat before speaking up. "...I'm sorry. I just… don't want the two of you dragged down with me."

"Elaborate." You demanded and he nodded. 

"I'm a villain, you're a civilian, and Hawks is the number two hero. Being associated with me is like killing your chances to actually do something with your life." He hissed out. Seemed like the pain from his wounds was getting to him. 

You helped him up and led him into the bathroom. There, you cleaned up and bandaged his wounds. He studied your face carefully and you worked. "No hard feelings?" 

"No hard feelings. But Keigo should be getting home soon, so you're gonna have to relay your little speech again." You snorted as you finished up. He stood up and walked out of the bathroom with you trailing behind him. 

The two of you walked into the kitchen. You pulled the cookies out of the oven and offered one up as a peace treaty. He rolled his eyes and pecked you on your lips as a peace treaty. 

A minute or so later, Hawks walked in. He noticed Dabi sitting on the counter with a chamomile flower crown on his head. How you managed to get him to wear that is unknown to humanity. 

"Yeah, I'm gonna live here from now on. And no, you won't be topping."

Hawks rolled his eyes as you laughed. "At least you're not being a pussy about soulmates anymore."

"Fuck you too."

[soft-thrills]

I got a prompt! Mulder and Scully are ar the beggining of their sexual relationship, learning each others kinks and preferences. Mulder starts to notice Scully gets wetter when he's rougher with her, and decides to try some Dom moves. Extra points for a little spanking and fucking her from behind. Love your work!

Here you go, anon! Thanks for the prompt, hope you enjoy it.

Surprises

Mulder/Scully; smut; an unofficial part of my “Scully liking it rough is canon” crusade

*

They are new to this -- to one another. No, that’s not quite right. The truth is they are extraordinarily familiar with one another. They know each other better than most people really ever know anyone. But they have only recently come to know one another in the, er, biblical sense.

Fucking. They’re new to fucking. Well, new to fucking each other. Mulder’s had some experience before and, though he hasn’t asked for a resume, it’s clear Scully is also more than proficient. 

While they’ve spent the last six years in a long-running conversation, they haven’t talked much about what they’re doing. About the fucking. But that’s ok, because Mulder is a man who notices things unsaid -- that is his job, after all. He mentally catalogues every tidbit he gleans from their early encounters. Some are expected, or at least, have long been imagined: the way she clenches her thighs against his ears when he’s between her legs working her clit like a sunflower seed; the way she says his name in bed, a lot, a breathy whisper so close to the way she’s said it before but just a tiny bit different; the way she has a doctor’s unashamed comfort with nudity.

But, you can know someone very well and still be surprised by them. And there were surprises. The way her breath seemed to catch in her throat when he pushed her from sitting upright to flat on her back on the bed. The moan, the kind that seemed to be urging him on without words, when he pulled the hair at the back of her neck. The quickening rise and fall of her chest when he had playfully pinned her to the bed during a joking wrestling match. 

Scully might have told him that the human mind naturally seeks meaningful patterns and configurations in things that don't inherently have any. 

But Mulder knew a pattern when he saw one.

Scully -- Special Agent Dana Scully, M.D., she of the ice-cold, steely-eyed stare, the fuck-you heels, the woman who could take down men twice her size and not muss up her makeup -- liked it rough.

He was pretty sure. Ninety-nine percent. The one percent of lingering doubt was rooted in his concern that he’d simply watched too much porn in his life, which, of course, he most certainly had. But that didn’t mean he was wrong.

Scully always pressed him to really test his hypotheses, to find evidence. The scientific method had never been so fun.

It was a spring Friday. They’d had a day filled with paperwork and bullshit from Skinner, and, to blow off steam, they’d gone out for a couple drinks at happy hour at a Mexican place in Georgetown, not far from Scully’s apartment. They had margaritas -- good ones, not the sickly sweet kind you get at loud chain restaurants. He stared, unabashedly, whenever her tongue swiped over the salt on the rim of her glass.

“Should we get dinner?” he’d asked after margarita number two.

“Mm, let’s stop home first, regroup,” she said, her tongue emerging again around the edge of the glass, her eyes meeting his as she licked at the salt. It reminded him of how she’d look up at him when she was running her tongue over something else.

Yes. They had better go home and regroup.

The bill was paid in record time. It was still light out, the trees were in bloom, the sidewalks were crowded with college kids and tourists. It was lovely but also the longest three-block walk of his life. 

Emboldened by the tequila, eager to shake off the stressful day, seduced by Scully, he was prepared to test his theory.

As soon as Scully had closed the apartment door behind her, Mulder was there, backing her up against it, leaning down to kiss her. He pressed his body against her, one hand on her cheek, the other in her hair. A gentle pull, and there was the moan again.

“Is this what you meant by regroup, Scully?” he asked.

He kissed along her jawline while he waited for a reply.

“Because I think this is what you had in mind,” he teased. Then, bolder: “I think that what you really wanted was to get fucked.”

Her eyes were wide. He hadn’t been shy in bed so far, but he hadn’t been quite this direct, either. It felt like an eternity that he waited for her to respond, and there was some part of him that was afraid she might hit him.

She nodded. He rewarded her with another kiss, hands on her breasts through her shirt. God, how he wanted her naked already.

“Tell me,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, but it would not be enough again.

“Tell me,” he said again, emphasizing the first word.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said. Then, having said it, she seemed to feel bolder, too. “I’ve wanted it from the moment we left the office. Maybe before.” A grin.

“Good,” he said. “Because that’s what I want, too.”

He took her hand insistently, and while it was her home, she let him lead the way to her bedroom. 

Upon getting to her bed, Mulder wished he’d thought of more of a plan. He was starting to feel more certain that Scully did indeed want him to take charge, and suddenly the thought was paradoxically intimidating to him. He forced himself not to overthink it. 

He undressed her, which centered him a bit. It was hard to feel anything but desire as he unbuttoned her shirt, slid down her skirt. She was not wearing hose -- though he was nearly certain she had been wearing them at the office. Must’ve slipped them off and into her pocketbook at the bar. Full of surprises. 

She was in her bra and underwear, a light green matching set he’d never seen before. Mulder was still dressed when he kissed her again, pressing his body -- and, most particularly, his erection -- against her soft skin. He gripped her perfect little ass, gently at first, testing, then, a hard squeeze. She moaned, arching her pelvis against him.

He pulled away to remove his own clothes, stripping naked, watching as her eyes were drawn to his cock. 

He backed her up against the side of her bed, and ran a finger along the strap of her bra. “I like this. Did you wear it for me, Scully?”

“Yes,” she hissed, and leaned up for a kiss. Instead, he flattened the hand that was stroking her bra strap and pushed her down onto the bed.

Mulder often forgot how much bigger than Scully he was -- she’s quite a presence, after all -- but was reminded when he easily moved her lithe body to where he wanted it on the bed. Maybe Scully wasn’t the only one who got off on the idea of him being a little rough.

Before he knew it, he was on top of her, all over her, nudging her legs open with his knee, lifting her breasts out of the dainty cups of her bra. He bit one nipple, pinched another, harder than he’s done before, and she cried out. A good cry.

Time to seek out more conclusive evidence. Mulder reached a hand inside of her underwear. 

“You’re so wet, Scully.”

He knew she had probably noticed this herself, but still, he liked saying it. It seemed she liked hearing it, too, as she arched up against his fingers, wordlessly asking him to keep touching her. He worked his thumb in fast little circles around her clit. 

“God, Mulder, I want you inside me,” she said, squirming underneath him. 

“I think I can give you what you want,” he replied, summoning up the confidence he’d felt falter earlier. 

Instead of sliding off her panties, he moved them to the side. Just felt sexier, dirtier. Then, he slid into her -- one hard, fast, stroke. She threw her head back and cried out. In that moment, he felt indestructible. 

“Careful what you ask for, Scully,” he practically growled into her ear. “Because I’m going to give it to you -- nice and hard.”

She whimpered. He made Scully whimper. It goaded him on -- he grabbed her hair and gave it another pull. He could feel her tighten around him. He’d never felt her this wet.

“You like this?” he asked.

She nodded, hiding her face against his shoulder as he thrust in and out of her, over and over. 

“Do you like it when I’m rough with you, Scully?”

She moaned. He wanted more. He took her hands from off his biceps and pinned her dainty wrists down to the bed. He stilled his hips.

“God, Mulder, don’t stop.”

“Answer me. Do you like it when I’m rough?”

“What do you think?” she shot back, sassy even pinned beneath him.

“I think,” he punctuated with one sharp thrust. “That I want to hear you say it. After all, I wouldn’t want to hurt you if you don’t like it.”

He waited a bit. Another singular thrust. 

“I like it,” she whispered. “I want it -- I want you to be rough.”

“Good girl.”

He pulled out and she looked stricken.

“Turn over for me, Scully. Get on your hands and knees.”

“Yes,” she breathed as she scrambled to get there. When she was ready, she turned to look back at him.

He pressed his cock up against her clit, teasing. She arched back and, before realizing what he was doing, he gave her a little slap on the ass.

She froze. So did he. He’d never done that to her before -- he’d never done a lot of this to her before, but he was more worried about how the slap would be received. 

“Mulder.”

Oh crap oh crap oh crap.

“Mulder, do that again.”

He exhaled. Full of surprises. 

Relieved, he brought his palm down against her ass again, just a touch harder. Then again. 

“Please,” she said, turning to look at him again. “I need you inside me.”

He couldn’t deny her anything in that moment. And, ok, he couldn’t deny himself one more minute, either. He thrust inside her and set a steady rhythm. He hadn’t fucked her like this before. But watching his cock slide in and out of her wet pussy, gripping -- and, occasionally slapping -- her ass, catching her eyes as she stared back at him, her elegant back arched, her dirty little secret tattoo on full display… it was a lot. 

He’d better make it good for her, quick, because he didn’t have much left in him.

Another slap and then his right hand moved to her clit.

“Oh, God, Mulder, yes,” she urged him on. “Harder, I can take it.”

He moans. Hearing Scully -- his Scully -- ask him to fuck her harder? The stuff of dreams. He’s not entirely sure what she wants harder, so he errs on the side of caution, or abandon, however you look at it, and he gives her all of it -- a firm slap, speeds up his fingers, snaps his hips harder. It works. 

She was close, he could feel it.

“Yeah, Scully, that’s right. Take it. Come for me,” he urged her on.

A moment later she did, crying out, tightening around his cock, trembling. He didn’t ease up -- chasing his own relief now, free to take it from her willing, perfect body. Her upper body slumped down but he gripped her hips and surged into her, lasting only a few sublime thrusts before he followed her over the edge.

When he caught his breath, he pulled away and she sank down onto the bed. He flopped down on his stomach beside her, exhausted, but desperate just to look at this beautiful, sexy, surprising woman he was somehow lucky enough to share a bed with.

“Wow,” she said, simply. 

He tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek. 

“Wow is right,” he said. “I’m never going to be able to hear the phrase ‘let’s regroup’ again without getting hard.”

She laughed. They basked in the afterglow; he basked a little extra in the afterglow of knowing that his hypothesis had been correct, that he had read the enigmatic Doctor Scully like a book. He was, all in all, feeling pretty pleased with himself.

And then.

“So I guess I left you enough clues about wanting you to be a little less gentle?”

A lightbulb. Those clues he’d happened upon had not been so happened upon after all.

He turned to see her grinning at him. 

“I thought I’d pulled off my best bit of profiling yet, Scully. Why not just tell me?”

“Oh, it’s more fun this way. I’m only sorry I was so easy to read.”

He slid across the soft sheets of her bed to get a little closer to her.

“You are full of surprises, Scully, and I’m going to discover every one of them.”

[freckleslikestars]

The Road to Family

(named by GillianG86 on AO3)

Mid-season 5 start of the IVF-arc. A discussion in a car about menstruation and sperm.

1800 words, read here on AO3

‘I need to use the bathroom at the next rest stop,’ Scully said absently as she scanned through the casefile on her lap.

‘Sure, no problem. We should probably fill up, anyway: we’re heading into the wilds.’

Eye-rolls abound, ‘it’s Tennessee, Mulder, not Outer Mongolia. There will be gas stations and civilisation in close proximity should we run out – we’ve been to more cut off places in our time.’

They settle into their usual amiable silence, the occasional snick of a sunflower seed husk or the turning of a page their background music until Mulder pulls into the gas station. ‘You need anything?’ he calls as she disappears around the back to the bathrooms, purse slung over her shoulder. She shakes her head, as she always does. She’s Scully; always prepared, always packed well in advance. She never needs more than what she’s got with her because when she’s packing she’s thinking about packing, rather than thinking about aliens.

She was back in the car by the time he was done paying, knocking back two Advil with a bottle of water.

‘You good?’

‘Yeah. Only three more hours of driving left,’ she sighs, dropping her head back and closing her eyes.

‘You love it really,’ he murmurs as he pulls back onto the highway, glancing across at her as her brow furrowed, expecting a sarcastic comment and receiving a pensive silence.

He wasn’t stupid - well, okay, not entirely stupid – he knew she only asked for a bathroom break when she was on her period, knew she only took her bag to the bathroom with her when she needed tampons. She fidgeted more, too, when she was on her period, never able to find a comfortable position whether she was sat in a car or at a desk. But that didn’t normally prevent her from quipping back. He blindly reaches a hand into his pocket and pulled out a double Snickers, tearing the wrapper and removing one with his teeth before proffering the other to her, ‘I ownwy wan’ wawn.’

‘Thanks,’ she smiles as she takes the candy, knowing that he brought it for her but didn’t want to say anything, worried she’d reject him. He did this every time, his MO.

‘Can I ask you something, Scully?’

She looks over at him, cautious as she chews the chocolate; Mulder never asked to ask, ‘sure…doesn’t mean I’ll answer, but go ahead.’

‘Why do you still get your period?’ her eyebrows raised, and before she could squeak out an indignant excuse me? around caramel and nougat glued teeth, he was hurrying on with an explanation, ‘I mean, since they took your eggs, surely there’s no reason for your body to go through this every month…?’

Her indignation fades slowly as she thinks about her answer, taking the last bite of her chocolate whilst figuring out how to explain. ‘Just because there isn’t an egg, doesn’t mean there aren’t still the hormones that regulate menstruation. As far as my body is concerned, it still thinks there are eggs to release each month, still thinks my uterus needs preparing to take that egg and fertilise it, and so still needs to shed the lining every month. Technically, I don’t menstruate – it’s called an anovulatory cycle. It’s why I didn’t-’ she pauses, staring down at her lap, the piece of skin she’s tearing at around her thumb ‘-it’s why I didn’t notice, after I was returned. Not until I was having my check-ups after remission.’

‘They don’t…you can’t tell at all? They don’t feel any different?’

A slow headshake, ‘no. They’re slightly more irregular now, but not so much that it was a concern.’

‘Can’t you stop them? I mean, if you can’t, you know, get pregnant, can’t you just stop them?’

‘My doctor suggested various forms of birth control, but none of them is without their side effects, so I don’t see the point,’ she shrugs then looks over at him, a small smile touching her lips, ‘besides, I uh, I’m looking into IVF.’

He stares at her. So many thoughts flash through his head he barely has time to grasp onto them. Some of them he misses altogether.

Her eyes are widening and her arm is reaching across him to pull the steering wheel just as a horn blares, ‘Jesus, Mulder, are you trying to get us killed?!’

‘I…I…shit,’ he pulls onto the shoulder and drops his head to the steering wheel, trying to slow his heart down. ‘You need to leave the X-files.’

That…probably wasn’t the right thing to say. Not judging by her open mouth and the hurt expression plastered across her face. ‘I tell you some of the best news I had in the past few years and you tell me I need to leave the X-files? Fuck you, Mulder. This is my quest just as much as it is yours now. It’s my body they screwed with, my ova they stole, lest you forget. I’m not leaving just because you think I’m lesser, just because you don’t value family, just because I’m a woman and I want a child-‘

‘Scully, stop. Stop. I just-‘ he heaves a sigh as he tries to order his racing thoughts ‘-I meant that you can’t be doing this, travelling across country, driving for hours on end, running through forests and bullet fire, whilst trying for a baby. And when you get your baby, you need to spend all of your time being a mom – a great mom. Just…I’d have said the same if you’d been able to keep Emily, too. I don’t think you’re lesser, or weak. I just want to protect you, because you’re my family. Okay? That’s all I meant,’ he reaches a hand over and takes hers, ‘I promise. It’s really great news, Scully.’

She nods, slowly, the smile that had brushed across her lips blooming fully, ‘thank you.’

‘No problem,’ he smiles, pulling away again. ‘So, you, uh, you get to choose a guy, like out of a catalogue? Sort of like buying a couch?’ he’d meant it as a joke, but the images of Scully and a little boy, a thatch of blond curls and her startling blue eyes, some other man’s DNA mingling with hers, betrayed him with bitter, jealous thoughts, letting the humour fall flat.

A frown crosses her previously happy face, ‘well, I think there are a few more things to consider than when one buys a couch, but yes, that is essentially how it works. But there are other options, too. I can ask someone I know, someone I trust.’

‘And that would be your preferred choice?’

‘Yes, I think so. If I can’t do it the old fashioned way, I would like to at least try to have a child with someone I already have a connection with. Just to make it a little more personal, a little less like a science experiment.’

‘You got someone in mind? I’m sure Skinner would jump at the chance,’ another joke that never even got off the ground.

‘I don’t think asking my boss for his sperm is a particularly good idea. It would probably make budget meetings uncomfortable.’

That elicits a snort from him, and he thinks that maybe she’s okay with joking about this after all, ‘what about Byers? He’s smart, likeable. And not unattractive in a certain light.’

She laughs, ‘I’ll tell him you said that. But alas, I think perhaps Frohike would be jealous.’

‘You could always get all three of the Gunmen to, you know, all into the same…and then it would be kind of like a pot lu-‘

‘Mulder!’ a horrified look is on her face when he glances over at her with a smirk, ‘you’re disgusting. Truly, truly disgusting. Ugh, I’m never going to be able to go into their office again now, you know that right?’ she was shaking her head, but her scowl couldn’t hide the grin she was attempting to stifle.

He lets the subject drop whilst she’s happy, not wanting to actually know who he’d have to accept as the father of her child. He couldn’t think of many more men she knew, though that wasn’t to say she didn’t know other people outside of work she’d never bothered to tell him about. She didn’t really talk about her life away from him; what little time there was for that to commence. He only got dribs and drabs about her family. The occasional mention of old school friends, few and far between. For all he knew, she was seeing someone and she’d never told him, never introduced them. Perhaps she was too ashamed of her spooky work partner. Perhaps she didn’t want him to feel bad about all the times he dragged her away for work. She probably went home to this guy and bitched about him each night. It would explain why she was thinking about having a child, and why she wasn’t just using an anonymous donor.

‘Actually,’ she breaks him from his thoughts with a soft, quiet voice – if he didn’t know her better, he would have said she sounded shy – ‘I was going to ask you.’

The breaks squeal as they burn rubber into the tarmac, one of Scully’s arms automatically reaching across to brace him as her other lands on the dash. They’re both breathing heavily as the second blast of a horn echos around them. ‘Scully,’ he says, voice forced into a quiet, calm, controlled tone, ‘please repeat what you just said.’

‘I said that I was going to ask you about being my donor.’

‘Okay. Okay, that’s what I thought you said,’ and with that he was turning the engine back on as he put the car into reverse, swinging it back and pulling round to head back in the direction they came from.

‘Mulder, what the hell are you doing?’

‘Going home. We’re going back home and we’re going to sit down with tea or coffee or vodka or whatever we need and we are going to discuss this. Not in a layby or a motel. We’re going to talk all of this through.’

‘Mulder, we’re on a case! We’ve just driven five hours and now you want to drive five hours back without even meeting with the local PD?’

‘Scully, I will not be able to concentrate on anything until we’ve talked about this. And I don’t want to have that talk somewhere we’re both not comfortable with. So we’re going home. We can go to your place or mine, but we’re going home and we’re going to think about this. Okay?’

‘Okay. Well, what do you want to know?’

He shakes his head, ‘we’re not talking about it in the car.’

Ten miles later, he looks over as she stares pensively out of the window. ‘Why me, Scully?’

‘Because,’ she says, reaching over to take his hand, ‘you’re my family.’

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the unseen one - 25

 Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: y/n and bucky fight

A/N: ik braid sewing was way more popular in roman culture than in greek one but i personally love it and it’s probably the one way i can get my hair to stay put whenever i go on a run. hope you enjoy xx

Next Chapter

Y/N was homesick. 

Ever since the dinner all she could think about was the mortal realm, the sounds of rain hitting the glass of her window as she cuddled under her large duvet, her old kettle steaming from the hob, Anne’s laughter and countless tellings of various failed love attempts, the children in her kindergarten, all of it. This wasn’t to say she didn’t enjoy Bucky’s company, she loved it, she loved having him around but the thought of being confined here forever without ever getting to see at least her flat again terrified her. 

Another day had started in the Underworld and per usual Bucky was the first up on his feet and out to prepare the Spring Festival necessities while Y/N was left behind. There wasn’t much to do rather than ever so slightly meeting with Hecate who had started to just plain ignore her existence whenever she visited the Elysium, speaking with Psyche whenever she unceremoniously was thrown into the Underworld by her mother in law and walk the river Styx’s shores. Y/N had returned to the kitchen, placing James’ kettle on the stove and grabbing a mug as she sat on the balcony, losing herself on her own thoughts and only being removed from it by the kettle steaming out of control. She jumped from the balcony feeling her feet weirdly tingle, which was ignored fast as she grabbed the white mug and the kettle, pouring hot water onto it. The weight of it proved somehow to be too much for her and before she could act on it, she let go of the mug, loosing strength in her hand and the once silent atmosphere was filled by the shattering sound of porcelain. 

     - Shit. - she mumbled as she leaned down to grab the big shards, putting them on top of the balcony, before bracing her hands on the edge of it, forcefully shutting her eyes. One of the servants, alarmed by the sound, came rushing in, immediately grabbing a mop and brush. - It’s alright, I can clean it. 

    - We don’t want you to hurt yourself, m’am. - the man smiled at her before dismissing her from the kitchen. Y/N climbed up to her bedroom, getting dressed in a regular beige dress before going out of the house, basket in arms. She thought about collecting some plants for the house and so she made her way to the Elysium. 

The sound and smell of nature at its bloom immediately brought a smile back to her face. Some trees had begin to show its fruits and most of the flowers were in bloom. She collected some flowers and fruits before taking a seat on one patch of grass watching the souls carelessly live their life. However one particular soul caught her attention. 

    - Mum? - she furrowed her brows, lips slightly parted as she got onto her feet watching a figure that looked particular like her mother. - Mum! 

She dropped her basket, bunching the fabric of her dress in her hands as she rushed over to the figure. It was her mother, it looked like her mother, the same hair, the same eyes and the same warming smile she got whenever she rushed into her bedroom after a terrifying nightmare as a child. Her mother however looked at her like she didn’t know her, turning on her back to join some other souls.

    - Mum! - Y/N called out once again but her mother only ignored her and soon enough she could feel her tears rolling down her cheek. - Mum, please

    - Y/N. - a familiar voice called out her name. She turned around to see the redhead goddess of witchcraft with a worried look on her face, she could even say care. - She doesn’t remember you, Y/N. Elysium souls have no recollection of their mortal lives. 

    - But she’s my mum. How can she not know who I am? - Hecate’s heart clenched at the words that sounded way too similar to those once spoken by James once he became the King of the Underworld. She tightened her lips, patting the girl on her shoulder and handing her the basket she had previously dropped.

    - We should probably go meet Hades. - she put her other hand on her shoulder, successfully removing her from here she was standing and taking her to the path that led to where she had least seen James which was in the Fates domain within the Elysium. The Fates’ side of the Elysium was always something rather odd, even for Hecate. Y/N watched as they passed halls and halls of name boxes with several coloured orbs.

    - What are those? - she pointed to the orbs that were inside the box containing James’ name, her curiosity perking up. 

   - Memory orbs. The Fates control and keep every single memory experienced by a god or mortal, I’ve heard their colour determine what type of memory. 

   - I think I wanna look around. - Y/N stated and Hecate stopped to pounder. She probably would be able to find the god of the dead quicker if Y/N wasn’t stopping every inch of the way to question about something that sparked her interest. 

   - Okay but stay here, don’t go wandering off! - she sternly said before going off her way to find James. Y/N watched as her figure disappeared in the hall and immediately rushed to James box, carefully pushing it out onto her arms and then onto the floor. Her eyes shined as she looked at the pretty colours flow inside the orbs, a special red one calling for her attention. Y/N knew she shouldn’t pick it, she shouldn’t be curious, these were James’ memories and she shouldn’t be lurking on them but her curiosity got the best of her and she immediately grabbed the red orb. What she wasn’t expecting was the sudden feeling on her left arm, almost feeling it being teared off which made her drop the orb onto the ground. Hand flying to hold her left arm as the orb rolled a bit away from her, flashes of someone screaming Bucky’s name and the harsh feeling of cold snow and sorrow rushing through her as if they were her memory. She stared at it, unbelieving to what had just happened and to the pain that had lodged itself on her left arm yet nothing was harming her and no injury was seen in sight. 

   - Y/N? - she heard James’ voice and immediately tried to place the orb back on its box which only made the pain return which in turn made her drop the orb once again. In no time James’ had localised her, his eyes going from the box with his name and the red orb on the floor to Y/N’s laying against the shelf of boxes, her hand holding onto her left shoulder. His lips tightened as he crutched down to where she was laying. - What are you doing?

   - I saw my mum. - she decided to sway the topic but the one she had swayed to somehow hurt her. - She didn’t know me. 

   - Don’t take it personally, sunflower. - he kissed her temple, flesh hand coming to caress her cheek. - It happens to everyone. My parents, my sister, even my friend don’t remember who I am.

   - Why? Why do you make them forget if they’re in paradise?

   - I guess the memory of leaving their loved ones in the mortal realm pains them too much. Would work more like a punishment. 

   - What about you? Isn’t that punishment to you too?

   - No, sunflower. I remember them all.

   - That’s not what I mean ... they don’t remember you. - she leaned her head against the bookcase, staring into his blue eyes. - Isn’t that too harsh of a punishment for a god?

   - The only punishment is being alive, sunflower. Not forgetfulness, not remembering, it’s still being alive after so long.

   - James ... - she took her hand way from her shoulder to cup his cheek, caressing it ever so slightly. She brought her face closer to him, lightly pecking his lips. 

   - We should go, this is no place for you. - he cleared his throat, getting up from his sitting position and offering her his hand. She however did not take it, still feeling the ghost pain in her left arm. - It’s not real, Y/N. You are okay.

   - I can feel it. - she looked up through her lashes at him. - What happened?

   - It’s not important.

   - Why do you always do that? - she knew she shouldn’t be mad, heck he should be the one mad at her but with all that had happened today so far, something in her snapped. - Why do you always tell me it’s not important when it clearly is? Don’t you trust me?

   - Of course I do, sunflower. You just don’t need to know about my past, it’s irrelevant. 

   - Is that memory the one of how you lost your arm? - she pressed him, looking away from his arm to the orb. - Is that what happened? 

   - Y/N, don’t question me. Come up. 

   - You are not the boss of me. - she ignored the hand he had offered to her, instead holding onto one of the shelf’s wooden bars and getting up by herself, storming off. 

   - Y/N, stop. - Bucky took the tone he normally took with his employees which immediately made her stop and turn to look at him before storming off again in a huff. - Y/N, cut it off. Damn it, I’m ordering you to stop. 

   - You’re not ordering me to do anything. You’re not my King and you will not talk to me as if you were. 

   - There is a lot of stuff that you don’t understand, Y/N. 

   - Then explain it to me. - she almost begged him. 

   - I cant.

   - Why not?

   - BECAUSE YOU WOULDN’T LOVE ME IF I FUCKING DID, Y/N. - he held her forearms, looking at her with what looked like tears starting to accumulate near the corner of his eyes, ready to roll down his cheeks. - You don’t know half of it and if you did you wouldn’t have spoken to me.

   - I would. 

   - No, you ...

   - I know you were the Winter Soldier. - she blurted out casually, almost as if she was talking about the weather. Truth was she knew, after he had told her about Steve it didn’t take long for the memories of when she went to the museum to hit her. She knew an abbreviated form of the story, not exactly what he’d been through, but she knew. Bucky was taken aback by her statement, blue eyes wide staring at her. - I know you were the Winter Soldier and I love you.

Bucky was still staring at her, eyes fully wide as his brain still processed those words. She knew. Well, of course she knew, it wasn’t like she hadn’t grown up in the new age of superheroes. She just, she just didn’t appear to be the type of woman to care much for that. Yet there she was, arms crossed across her chest, calm complexion. 

   - Say something. - she bite onto her lip nervously. She let go of her crossed arm position, slowly padding towards him, her hand trailing from his metal one to his shoulder, fingers dancing on the place where metal met flesh. - Please. 

   - What do you want me to say? - he leaned his head on her touch, thoughts running through his mind of how his fellow deities would react to him being this submissive to a mortal of no god birth or immortal blood. - Because I sincerely don’t know what to tell you, Y/N. 

    - Do you wanna tell me how it happened? I know how it felt and I’d rather hear it from you.

   - Not today. - he kissed the top of her head. - I will, just not today. 

Y/N left Bucky to do his work despite his complaints of wanting to be with her after seeing her mother. She knew better about not messing with the Spring Festival which was fast approaching. The sooner it got, the least she saw of James with all the preparations and meeting with Zeus that Bucky wouldn’t let her hear or even be nearby. Soon enough, it was only one day until the Spring Festival and Hecate had invited her to be with her nymphs for the opening ceremony, something she had been rather excited over as that meant she wouldn’t have to mingle with the rest of the gods and goddesses who mostly did not enjoy her presence or the fact she was with the King of the Underworld. 

Y/N excitingly opened the box Hecate had delivered to James’ home in the early morning, happy to see what she was wearing. Following what the Charon and other nymphs had discussed with her, every nymph wore a colour and a flower in order to honour the goddess of spring and the harvest. As she removed the protective silk paper from the gown, she noticed her colour was white and in a smaller box near the dress was a hair crown of white roses. She guessed it made sense, considering the flower seemed to haunt her.

The day couldn’t come sooner and much to Bucky’s dismay Y/N was out the door in the morning, box in hand and headed to the Elysium, specially Persephone’s groves. All the nymphs were getting ready, laughter and song in the air along with various flowers thrown on the floor giving the dead nature of the grooves some sort of happiness. 

Y/N took to getting herself dressed before taking a place in one of the free vanities to do her hair. She looked around looking at the nymphs happily pining, curling and sewing their hair away in unbelievably hard hairstyles. Y/N tried her best to pull her hair up only to sigh and lean against her chair. 

       - I’ll give you hand. - Hecate walked from behind her, her stoic look still present on most her features as she grabbed the silver brush from the vanity. Y/N understood why Hecate wasn’t a fan of her, she, after all, was extremely passionate over her domains and protecting everything. 

      - Thank you. - she watched her reflection in the mirror as Hecate divided her hair in two and braided each section. Following, she grabbed a needle and white yarn, sewing the two braids together and upwards in what looked like a singular double braid that now wrapped itself around the lower part of her head from ear to ear. Hecate placed the brush on the vanity grabbing the crown of fresh white roses and placing it upon her head.

     - You’re all set. Come on. - Hecate rushed her to walk into where the celebrations were to set place. In the middle of the beautiful greenery there was a porcelain mast with various coloured ribbons which was started to being surrounded by various deities. - All the nymphs of the Underworld get a coloured ribbon the same as their gown and dance around the mast, wrapping the ribbon around it until it snaps. The ribbon that doesn’t snap is decided maiden of the harvest and gets to crown someone to be her consort with their own flower crown. The pair gets the first dance.

      - Oh, I’m a terrible dancer.

      - You probably won’t get it. You’d have to be greatly in favour of Gaia in order to get it. - she tightened her lips. - However, in the slightest chance you get the honour of being chosen maiden, remember to pick Apollo, Priapus even. Any of the gods related to the act of love and beauty will suffice, it’s good to be in their graces.

Y/N stood in line with the other nymphs, her eyes scouting the crowd for her Bucky, but it was him who found her first, watching from afar as some minor gods spoke of various new achievements and demigods they’re fathered. However, now that he had spotted her, he was much more interested in looking at her unless of listening to them. He watched as she scurried around like a nervous little nymph to the mast, grabbing the white ribbon and finally took in her whole appearance, judging her to be officially the prettiest of all living things. Hecate ordered Apollo and his muses to start the sweet music that filled Elysium’s air which made the nymphs and Y/N start to go around the pole. 

Her eyes left the pole for a few seconds, watching as every single god and goddess of the Greek pantheon watched in awe before immediately turning to look at the pole, watching the pink and purple ribbons snap away causing some disgruntled noises for a few moments. One by one most ribbons snapped away until hers and a blue one were the only ones standing. Y/N sighed, ready to go back to James, expecting her to be the next one to snap until the sound of ripping fabric removed her from her thoughts. However, instead of seeing her own arm freed from the ribbon, she watched as the last blue ribbon laid on the ground and her own still tightly wrapped around her wrist. 

She quickly unwrapped the ribbon of her wrist, quickly massaging it before bringing both hands to take her own rose crown off her head as she stared at the crowd in front of her like a deer in headlights. A few gods cleared their throats, smirks on their faces, clearly expecting the honour to be bestowed upon them. Hecate’s words rang like heavy bells in her head but she was never one to follow them and soon enough she found herself walking towards the exact and only person she knew would be worth such bestowment. Next to him, stood Ares and Zeus who quite conceitedly took a step forward only to wide their eyes as the mortal woman who had just been chosen by Gaia’s forces to be the maiden of the harvest placed her white rose crown confidently upon the head of the God of the Underworld.

     - Now, what about that. - she could hear the goddess of love and beauty mumble under her breathe, somehow being the only deity not surprised by the odd choice. How ironic the maiden of the harvest had picked someone who did not even harvest the souls he ruled over. James rather surprisingly took her hand in his, guiding her to the middle of the circle the gods had created, turning his body to face hers. 

     - I can’t dance. - she whispered under her breath, ashamed anyone but him could hear it. 

     - I can dance well enough for both of us, sunflower.

tag list: @philogrobizedvee​​​​​​  @keithseabrook27​​​​​ @inlovewith3​​​​19 @nwbstan​ @romanoffs-heart​

[jadekitty777]

On Your Six, Chapter 1

Okay first of all, did we all coincide the Taiqrow Week with Father’s Day... accidentally? Because that’s secretly genius. 

Secondly, whoops we’re also meshing with Qrowin week - hope y’all are okay to share!

Finally, let’s get down to business. Hi y’all, hope you haven’t missed me too much. Hopefully I can make up for my silence with this absolute beast of a fanfic. This is going to be a single, interconnected story matching the prompts of the entire week. I hope those of you who choose to read it, will enjoy it!

Day 1: Tattoos for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overrall

Words: 2.3k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Marks

~

The day Taiyang walked into his shop, before even a single word was spoken, he knew.

It wasn’t from any particular mannerism. Everyone’s body language was different. A chattering mouth. Averted eyes. A tapping foot. A drooped posture. In the short time Qrow had been doing this, he’d learned no single action could encapsulate the variety in which people expressed their shame.

Yet, not a single one could escape the stench. It was a foul thing. Sharp and smokey, like a tire fire on a junkyard, it lacquered over an omega’s scent so completely that it was near impossible to catch a whiff of the true smell that was originally there.

Even now, as Qrow inspected the damage upon his former friend’s bare back, mere inches away from the man’s scent glands, he couldn’t pick out a hint of the sunflowers and fresh soil that was Tai. Nothing left except the reek of burnt rubber and dishonor.

He didn’t call attention to it, just like he didn’t call attention to the shake in his friend’s shoulders as he placed a hand over the first mark. “This is extensive.”

“I know. But, I didn’t know who else to turn to.” Even as he turned his head to look at him, Tai hunched over a bit, and the brand seared across his shoulder blades stretched with the movement. “You’ll help me, right?”

Qrow’s eyes flitted between watery eyes and stained skin where the word SLUT, all in caps like some mockery of a grand declaration, taunted his every decision since their falling out and left the taste of bile on his tongue.

“Of course.” He promised.

~

It was widely thought that it was a farmer that first came up with branding back during the Early Modern period. Having been “inspired” by the tagging of the cattle which kept them in order, the alpha decided to do the same to omegas, ascertained the same outcome would follow. The practice was later adopted by prisons and other corrective facilities. Back then, it was merely a way of keeping track of those who had been in and out of the system by searing the skin with an iron that had the center’s insignia on it.

Advancements to the printing press and mail systems did away with that particular need, but while the jails abolished the practice, reformatories did not, releasing studies that claimed the procedure resulted in more ‘proper’ and ‘desired’ behaviors in omegas and were absolutely critical to full rehabilitation.  Despite newer evidence showing these original claims were likely falsified simply for convenience and often actually had a devastating effect on an omega’s psyche, the three-century long old policy had yet to be abolished from the system.

The most the outcries had done the past few decades was change the method on which the ‘brand’ was applied. Instead of an iron, it was done with a tattoo needle and instead of an insignia, it became a single word that was like a permanent reminder of what landed the omega in the facility to begin with. The stench was caused by the use of the chemically enhanced ink that made it impossible for laser technology to fully remove.

In short, if an omega wanted the mark gone, their only choice was to cut out their own skin. Most, like his mother, accidentally killed themselves trying.

Which led to where Qrow was today, trying to shake things up in the only way he knew how. So, he jumped off society’s grid, took up a needle and his drawing skills, and turned the marks into works of art. More importantly, he gave the omegas who came to his door a way to recover and take back their lives.

He just never thought Tai would be one of them.

Once he’d taken the pictures he needed and Tai’s shirt was back on, things were relaxed enough he could brew some tea. As he handed the other man his cup, Qrow finally asked, “So, how’d you find me?”

“Wasn’t that hard.” He replied, fingers wrapping around the porcelain. “The omegas back at the reformatory would whisper before bed. It didn’t take me long to figure out they were talking about you.”

Qrow froze, trying to hide his trepidation. “Oh? They say my name?”

Tai snorted. “Not your name, but a name.” His expression turned cheeky. “Don’t worry though. Only someone who knows Harbinger used to be your Relics & Wyverns character could put the pieces together.”

“Ah, can it!” He barked as a flush worked its way up his neck. Still, tension drained from him. While there were no laws that specifically stated what an omega was required to do with their mark after their rehabilitation was complete, if he was caught tampering with it for them, he knew the courts could claim he was willfully interfering with a person’s emotional stability. Might even get him on a few counts of practicing mental health care without a license too.

Still, he didn’t particularly want to be sent to the slammer, which was why he worked so hard to keep to the underground. Never told anyone his name. Moved often. Kept minimal contact with clients. Whatever it took to make sure only the people who needed to find him could.

“I’m glad that you’re doing alright for yourself.” Tai said, giving a cursory glance to the shoddy working space that doubled as his apartment. Beyond his tattoo kit, he rarely took much with him when he relocated. Sometimes he got lucky on the accommodations and the place would already be partially furnished, other times he had to make do with what he could afford from the nearest thrift store.

This place was one of those latter times. He had a mattress on the torn up box spring with a chipped nightstand beside it, a circular, rickey table with two chairs for the dining room, a fairly barren kitchen area, and a slightly beat-up leather recliner for the clients.

It wasn’t hard to see Tai was really reaching as he said, “Your place is… nice?”

It was Qrow’s turn to snort. “At least be honest and tell me I live in a shithole.”

“I was not going to – okay, yeah it is kind of a shithole. But, you’re eating okay and everything, right?”

What an omega. “Yes mom, I’m getting my three squares a day and I’m even brushing my teeth before bed.” He lent back, the plastic chair creaking underneath as he did so. “But you didn’t exactly come here to critique my living conditions. Think there’s a lot more important stuff to talk about, don’t you?”

Suddenly, the tea was much more interesting than his face. “Yeah. Right. Um, guess there’s a lot to catch you up on, huh? You don’t even know about-”

“Whoa, hold up a sec.” He quickly interrupted. “Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t ask for any of my clients’ stories unless they feel like sharing. Some do, some don’t. But my help doesn’t come with any strings attached.” He met his gaze, stressing the next part carefully, “Even if they’re friends, okay?”

Tai still seemed to hesitate. “But, don’t you want to know about Yang?”

Of course, he did. He had about a thousand and one questions whirling through his head. But that didn’t matter right now. “You ready to talk about her?”

For the second time that day, tears shimmered in Tai’s eyes. He looked away quickly, saying nothing.

Yeah. He figured as much.

“Then no.” Qrow cleared his throat some. “Besides, I’m still a total disaster when it comes to handling people when they cry.”

That one, at least, earned him a weak chuckle.

“Some things never change?” Tai said with a sniff, rubbing the corner of his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“If it ain’t broke…” He shrugged. “Anyways, what I meant was, how do you want to change up that lil’ blemish a’yours?”

“I, uh, I don’t know. What do you normally do?”

“Turn it into a single design. But, I’ve never had to work on one so large before. That thing’s taking up about half of your back. Still doable, just… more difficult.” It was easy to busy his designs enough the word got lost under all the rest. Working on a scale of this size though, there weren’t many things he could think of that would both look nice and cover up the word. “Not to mention, we’ll have to take a lot of breaks, so your skin can heal.”

“How long do you think it would take?”

“Well, with three weeks between each session and the scale and details… probably nine to twelve months?”

Tai’s face fell. “Oh.”

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, no I mean…” He sighed. “I was just, kind of hoping it would be done before October, is all. Before the kids come home.”

Kids?!

As in plural?!

Qrow had to bite his tongue to physically stop himself from breaking his own rule. Took a deep, steadying breath.

Okay. That was six months away. There was no way. Unless…

“Well, we could make it four separate designs. One for each letter. That way I could work on one side and then the other while it’s healing. If we meet every week, should be doable. Gonna be some long hours under the needle for you though.”

Tai lit up just like the sun he was named after. “I can handle it. I’ll do anything. Oh-! We could even make it four dragons, couldn’t we?”

Qrow barked out a laugh. “I mean yeah, if that’s what you want. Give me your scroll deets. I’ll work up some designs over the next few days and send them to you.” As he pulled out his device to input the information, he added, “We gotta work out a schedule too. What days are RO?”

“She visits on Tuesdays and Saturdays right now. It’ll go down to once a week pretty soon. I’m also TA-ing at Sanctum Middle, so weekdays are pretty full.”

It was all par for the course. Even after doing time at the reformatory, omegas still had to have frequent visits from their rehabilitation officer, to make sure they were keeping a steady job and homelife. That meant good evaluations from his superiors and a living space that looked like not even a speck of dust had had a chance to touch down. This was especially important for omegas like Tai, who would have to fight for every top mark he got. If he failed to, the RO would claim he was still unfit to raise his own children and keep them in the fostering system.

Qrow knew that was the reason for the six-month time limit. He had no doubt that once Tai was out of parole and had his pups back, he’d be hightailing it out of the kingdom. But for the RO to still be visiting at that frequency… “Did you come looking for me right after you got out?”

“I-” The tea had become interesting again. And cold. “Yeah. I knew you were working out of Mistral, and Atlas allows for transfers to Argus.”

At this rate, his tongue was probably going to have indents from his incisors. Once he knew he wasn’t going to start prying or, worse yet, shouting at Tai - because really how stupid could he be?! – he opened his mouth and said, “So, Sundays then?”

For the first time in nearly six years, Tai smiled at him. “Sounds perfect.”

~

For the next few days, Qrow did nothing but draw. Whether it was with a buzzing needle or a pencil, his hand was rarely empty. Even as he downed his morning coffee or spun his suppertime noodles onto his fork, his other hand was moving over a sheet of paper, his muse on overdrive as he tried to pick out the perfect designs for each letter. By nightfall, he was sending at least half a dozen pages full of sketches to Tai, then checking his phone every five minutes as he impatiently anticipated his reply.

It didn’t actually matter where they started, because once they decided on which letter was going first, Qrow’s focus would narrow to the second one over. The tricky thing was, Tai had always been the type who was simple to please – well before a reformatory could ever drill that lesson into him. Even when they were young, whether it was a question of what game they wanted to play or what food they wanted to eat, Tai would almost always just grin and say ‘whatever you want’. Which meant, every sketch was perfect and Qrow had to work twice as hard to actually find something he truly fell in love with.

He knew he finally struck gold for S when Tai figured out how to use the circling tool on his scroll and sent the shot back with an exuberantly loud ‘THIS ONE’, followed by a horrendous amount of exclamation points.

Qrow had never felt prouder.

It was a small effort to resketch the piece in full and line it. Adding color was more challenging, as he had to balance what looked nice with the limitations of his inks. But leaving it without was absolutely not an option. Not for someone who used to decorate his walls with paintings of tropical beaches and autumn-locked forests and had had a Crayola box spectrum of begonias sitting on his windowsill in his childhood room. Tai was a man who radiated a rainbow both in his life and in his heart. To try to dull that by leaving him in nothing but blacks and grays was a crime Qrow wasn’t willing to commit.

Besides, the design wouldn’t translate well without it.

So, he kept working at it until he knew it was just right. When the omega’s excitement only seemed to grow, he knew his labor was over.