#i took today really easy and the course was already mostly flat

[whatafirefeelslike]

running update, i am 1 week out from the half marathon i signed up for a year ago and today was my last long run. i was worried about running 10 miles, as a week ago i couldn’t do 5 miles without pain. but today was lovely, really easy except for this tickle in my throat—might have caught a little something. i’m gonna see how i feel tomorrow and Tuesday morning as i have my second to last speed workout that day. if i still don’t feel well im just going to do the bike. but my foot felt totally fine. my right hamstring was bugging me a bit but not too bad. tuesday will be the real test of my injuries (if i’m not too sick) bc i’m gonna go fast and wear the shoes i plan on wearing for race day

i’m wondering if the foot issue was just my shoes being too tight. i remember having issues in just my new pair of brooks glycerin 20s. my old pair of the same model felt fine today and my race shoes felt fine. i’m so excited that my race shoes match my outfit too 😍 i need the weather forecast to change so it feels more like today tho

[kivaember]

random ac6 coffee shop au drabble hgh

MY BRAIN IS LIKE A NOODLE FROM WORK so here's a cute brainless coffee shop au drabble

The birds were singing, insects were chirping, and there wasn't a single cloud in the summer's sky, the day warm but not unpleasantly hot, and a beautiful vista stretching out from the public car park that Rusty had parked his jeep in.

Raven took the whole thing in with a distinct feeling of dread.

"The parking's free on Sunday," Rusty chattered happily, oblivious to his boyfriend mentally compiling his will. He pulled out a rucksack from the jeep's boot and easily slung it onto his shoulders, before holding out Raven's smaller and far lighter backpack. "So we can take all the time we need for our hike."

Raven nodded wearily and accepted his backpack. It contained two 2L water bottles, his lunch, as well as a few snacks, and a waterproof jacket, despite the good weather. Rusty had been very serious when he said that no matter where they hiked to, they should always prepare for bad weather. Raven just thought he was carrying extra weight for no reason.

But he had no one to blame but himself. When Rusty had excitedly asked him last week if he wanted to go on a 'nice, easy hike' with him on Sunday, Raven had unthinkingly agreed, always happy to spend time with his boyfriend. However, as the day approached, Raven gradually realised that he and Rusty had two very different definitions of a 'hike'.

Raven thought it'd be a short, pleasant walk in the countryside, two hours tops, and it'd be mostly flat. Rusty thought a 'nice, easy hike' was stomping up the mountain just outside of southern Xylem that was 'affectionately' called The Wall, due to its sheer verticality in some parts. Of course there was a path that could be walked by anyone with functioning legs, but the hike was expected to take almost TWO HOURS to get to the SUMMIT. FOUR HOURS IN TOTAL. TO WALK UP AND DOWN. A MOUNTAIN.

Raven, who was out of breath just climbing a single flight of stairs, quietly despaired.

Rusty, the evil tempress that had lured Raven to this uniquely cruel and unusual torture, beamed at him, clearly excited for the day. Raven didn't have the heart to admit to him that he was going to hate every moment of this. He can endure this, to protect that smile. He'll... he'll climb this mountain... for Rusty.

So, weakly, he smiled back.

"I've plotted our route," Rusty said, as they began to walk towards where the public footpath began from the car park. "I made sure to pick the easiest one, so you won't have to climb up any steep parts... if you get tired, let me know, alright? If it comes to it I can carry you no problem until you catch your breath."

Rusty held out his phone, which had a satnav app already marking out their route. Raven hid a grimace when he saw the '9.56 miles remaining!' at the top of the screen.

"You've got your inhaler, right?" Rusty asked, and Raven quickly nodded at that. He actually over-prepared and brought two. "Okay, good. I know you said you're fine with exercise but... really, let me know if you get tired."

Well, Raven was pretty sure exercise didn't trigger his respiratory problems, but he'd never actually... exercised to really test that out. Did a short one hundred metre jog count as exercise? It must do, right?

He kept that question to himself, though, gripping the straps of his backpack as they left the solid comfort of tarmac and onto the dusty, rocky dirt path that led towards the mountain. While things were still flat and manageable, Raven did take a moment to look about himself, admire the scenery, that sort of thing (it might be the last thing he'll ever see, after all).

Raven had never really left Xylem before today. He'd been to a few parks, and he had a very foggy memory from when he was a child where Michigan had dragged him and Walter to the beach that one time, but he hadn't really been dumped into the middle of nature like this before. It smelled different to the city, looked different, and sounded different.

It was nice.

Enough so that he briefly forgot he was meant to be dreading this whole hike, and happily kept pace with Rusty who was kindly moderating his strides to be short and slow just for him. Raven felt a burst of affection for him, abruptly, realising that he was very lucky to have such a considerate boyfriend like Rusty, even if he was insane and liked to climb mountains in his spare time... what a weirdo (fond)...

Things changed when they started hitting The Incline.

It was gradual, gentle enough that Raven didn't notice it at first, but then it sloped upwards sharply, and within minutes Raven was sweating, panting and valiantly trying to ignore the burn in his legs.

Rusty, of course, noticed. "Uh, buddy, are you okay?"

Raven made an off-hand sign for {fine}, stubbornly glaring down the path as he took another quad-burning step.

"I mean, it's just, you're looking a bit red there-"

Another step. Oh god. This was so hard. Rusty did this for fun?!

"-and I can hear you wheezing."

But Rusty had looked forward to this all week... no, no Raven will not surrender, he won't give in! He'll succeed! He'll finish this hike!! Bolstered by deranged motivation, Raven took two more wobbling steps.

"And you're sweating buckets..."

Argh, actually, this might be too much for him. They had to have done at least a mile, right? That meant he just had to do eight miles at most. If he can think of it like that, then he can do it, right? Right?!

Desperately clinging onto this hope, Raven signed a bit haphazardly: {How far? Distance????}

"Buddy..." Rusty slowed to a stop. "We've only done three hundred metres."

Raven staggered to a halt as well and stared, dismayed.

"I mean, you can still see the carpark..."

Rusty turned and pointed, and Raven followed where his finger was indicating, seeing that, yes, indeed, the carpark was right there, well in view. Rusty's jeep sparkled under the sun, a siren call of 'you can give up now and leave~~~~'

He was so, so tempted.

Rusty's expression was both amused and rueful when he looked back at him, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, if you want to call it there... we can. I mean, there's a lake not too far from there. We can walk around that instead. It's fine!"

So, so, so tempted....!!!!

{No,} Raven signed stubbornly, tilting his jaw and daring Rusty to argue with him. {I said I'd hike. I'm going to the summit. With or without you.}

"..." Rusty shook his head with a bit of a laugh. "Raven..."

{Witness me,} Raven proclaimed a bit deliriously, and resumed his arduous treck up the mountain path, huffing and puffing like a beaten up car engine on its last legs.

"Raven! C'mon..."

Raven kept going.

----------

...for about one hundred metres, before he gave up and lied down on the ground, staring up at the blue sky with Rusty staring down at him.

{Leave me for the birds,} Raven signed solemnly, and pointed at the vulture he could see circling above. He could hear how his breaths wheezed in his struggling lungs, his heart thundering to its very limits to keep him alive for these parting words (handsigns.... whatever). {I'll return... to the circle of life...}

"Okay, I think it's inhaler time," Rusty said with some amusement, and bent down to rudely roll Raven onto his side to get into his backpack. "Hm, you should really put it somewhere more accessible... ah! Got it!"

Rusty rolled him onto his back and handed him his inhaler. Sulkily, Raven took a puff (he felt himself inch away from death's door).

"So," Rusty said, as Raven came down from his delirious, oxygen-deprived high. "Lake?"

Raven rested his inhaler against his chest. {Lake.}

[ikeromantic]

In the Spotlight

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction, approx. 1700 words. This scene occurs after the events of the romantic epilogue and includes some of what happens in the part 2 introduction. Mostly fluff!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Uncomfortable Questions

Kyubei bowed low and held the position. It wasn’t his first time to report to Nobunaga, but it was his first time to do so without explicit instructions from his lord. He was nervous, but it didn’t show. Kyubei could hold an icy composure as well as Akechi.

“Report.” Nobunaga’s tone was flat, hiding his own frustration.

Hideyoshi and Masamune weren’t trying to hide theirs. The one-eyed dragon was pacing and Toyotomi’s scowl could have peeled paint.

“There is no evidence,” Kyubei cleared his throat, “that the forces at Kasugayama are involved in the attacks on Azuchi. However -” he paused. This was the part that made him sweat. “The disappearance of Lord Akechi and the lady chatelaine coincide with the vanishing of their ninja, Sarutobi Sasuke.”

“I don’t believe it.” Masamune stopped, one hand dropping to his sword hilt. “There’s no way that ninja got the drop on Mitsuhide.”

Hideyoshi nodded. “Agreed. My guess is that they are working together.”

Kyubei interrupted. “I find that unlikely, my lord. At least, in the manner you suggest. If I may?”

Nobunaga indicated he should continue.

“My sources tell me Shingen Takeda is ill, and between the loss of his ally and his ninja, Kenshin is unstable. Seeking conflict within his own forces as well as outside. It is unlikely he is aiding Kasugayama. Though he must have known Sarutobi's absence might . . .” He frowned, wondering how much he should imply, what he could suggest.

Ieyasu saved him the need. “Mitsuhide was making plans for an extended absence. I think we should consider that he has left, with Sasuke, to visit the chatelaine’s homeland.”

Mitsunari nodded. “This would make sense. There could be something about the events of the night he disappeared that forced them to leave sooner than he expected.”

“There’s more to it, and if I know that snake -” Hideyoshi’s rant was cut short by Nobunaga’s raised hand.

“Enough. I did not wish to bare Akechi’s secrets, but Ieyasu is correct. Mitsuhide sought my permission to take the chatelaine to her home. He was uncertain how long they would be gone.”

The room exploded with sound, warlords talking over one another. Hideyoshi was ranting about safety and plots; Masamune demanded permission to seek them out. Keiji was laughing. Ieyasu and Mitsunari were relatively silent, waiting for the excitement to die down.

Nobunaga’s carnelian eyes quieted each man in turn.

When he could be heard again, Kyubei continued. “I made contact with Ranmaru. He is seeking out the forces responsible for the attack on Azuchi, along with other spies in our network.”

“Ranmaru? That boy is afraid of his own shadow. Completely unreliable,” Hideyoshi muttered, not unkindly. “He should be here.”

Kyubei couldn’t help the slight smile at that. He didn’t approve of Ranmaru’s tangled loyalties, but one could not argue with his ability to act a part. “Of course, my lord. But Ranmaru insisted. And he does have many friends to rely on for information.”

Ieyasu stood. “This doesn’t answer my questions though. Where is the chatelaine? Is she safe? When will she return? We all know Akechi has his . . . plans. I’m not worried about him. He’ll turn up when and where he wants to. But she’s -”

“You’re worried about her!” Mitsunari beamed. “I knew you were just trying to hide it when you told me-”

“Shut up.” Ieyasu glared. “I’m just . . . the enemy could use her against us. We need to know where she is.”

“Agreed,” Masamune spoke up. “I will put together a team. We’ll find her.”

“My lords, I am afraid she and Mitsuhide are beyond any team.” Kyubei sighed. “The greater concern is what this impacts and how it will be used against us. The Ikko Ikki are moving. The Mouri clan have resumed pirating, and we know it was Kichou that executed the attack on Azuchi. In addition, we have rumors the shogun in exile is drawing a new following.”

Mitsunari frowned. “Yes, I reviewed several shipment records and troop movements from old loyalist daimyo. It appears we are not done with the shogun as of yet.”

Kyubei bit his lip. The scribe they’d installed should have been satisfied to live in luxurious exile, but it seemed the old shogun’s loyalist stirred his greed. Or maybe they were using him as a puppet. He had no way to know, as the spies in Ashitaka’s court had all fallen silent.

Nounaga spoke again. “Hideyoshi, you and Keiji will pursue the Mouri. Masamune, I want you to make contact with Kasugayama. Offer a truce. See what they can offer up about their missing ninja. They may be willing to hunt down our enemies with us, as it does them no benefit to see this land descend into chaos.” His gaze fell on Ieyasu. “You will join Kyubei’s efforts to track down Mitsuhide and the chatelaine. Your research and his current knowledge will yield results.”

“May I assist Lord Tokugawa?” Mitsunari’s innocent smile could have been worn by an angel. He was completely oblivious to the sudden grimace on his friend’s face.

“You may, in your spare time. I need your mind fixed on calculating provisions, troop movements, bridges, and roads. There will be fighting soon.”

Mitsunari acquiesced with a bow.

Kyubei delivered the rest of his report, and then was dismissed. He went straight to the Akechi mansion and opened a bottle of sake. Alcohol was a vice he rarely indulged in, but today he felt like he needed it. He’d exposed some of his lord’s business without permission. He had no idea how or if this would impact Akechi’s plans. And now . . . he’d be working with Ieyasu. It would be difficult to keep the secrets he needed to keep.

He kept drinking until the room spun and the lights all wore halos. Kyubei might have kept it up, but he ran out of bottles and couldn’t make the walk to fetch more. Instead, he fell asleep, sprawled out on the floor of his lord’s office.

***

Mitsuhide felt a mix of relief and distress when his little one explained the plastic stick on the bathroom counter. It meant they were not having a child together. Not yet, at any rate. And this was good. He was in no position here to father a child. But . . .

The image of himself holding a child. His. Hers. His heart felt too big for his chest, thinking of what such a child would be like. His very own son or daughter. One with his love’s sweetness. His eyes. Her nose. His perception. It made him ache, as if he had an old bruise, a wound that hadn’t healed. Which was completely irrational.

He looked out the train window at the rapidly passing countryside. Trees. Hills. Houses. Different and not so different from the world he knew. He should be spending this time planning the next few days, not moping. Kitsunes did not mope.

“Are you ok? Are you nervous?” His little mouse put her hand on his leg, comforting.

“Yes and yes.” Mitsuhide turned his head to give her a sideways smile. “I have never had to meet the parents of my betrothed.” He had expected Nobunaga to marry a woman to him for political purpose. Some well-bred woman who knew how to run a house and had courtly manners. A woman he would never love, but could put up with, at a distance. Yet here he was.

She laughed. “It will be ok, really. I talked to okaasan and she is excited to meet you. She’s happy for us.”

“And you father?” Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sure he’ll get used to the idea. He’s just . . . to him, I’m still a little kid. But I’m sure once he sees us together, he’ll come around.”

Mitsuhide was less certain about that. He’d known several fathers and they fell into two categories, most of the time. There were the men who could care less about their children beyond their use to the clan. And there were the men that treated their children as things of wonder. Not that they coddled them - but they cared. About their education, their work, their friends. He was sure his lover’s otousan fell into that second group.

The train stop came sooner than he might have liked. The two of them disembarked. There were only a handful of people getting off the train here, so it was easy to spot her parents.

They were dressed conservatively. Her father was a little shorter than Mitsuhide, and a little thicker around the middle. His greying hair was thin on top, and he wore glasses. Her mother was small and wore a smile he would have known anywhere.

The parents caught sight of them at about the same time Mitsuhide’s study of them finished.

“Otou-chan! Okaasan!” His little mouse flung herself across the platform, and was swept up in a hug from both sides. Tears ran down her face, and her cheeks were stretched in a wide smile.

Mitsuhide felt out of place in this moment of familial warmth. He had no such experience himself, and did not want to intrude either way. He stood quietly, holding their bags. Waiting as they exchanged hugs, kisses, and stammered apologies and explanations. As if they could make up for half a year apart in a few minutes.

Her father finally looked up and met Mitsuhide’s eyes. His were dark and suspicious. Protective. “You.”

His little one smacked his arm. “Be nice, papa. This is my fiancé, Mitsuhide. Mitsuhide, this is my father, Minoru, and my mother, Youko.”

Mitsuhide bowed low. “I am pleased to meet you both.”

Her father didn’t reply, but her mother did. “We are so glad to meet you too! It was such a surprise . . . our little girl . . . disappearing and then -”

“And then coming back with a weird boyfriend,” her father interrupted.

Oh yes. This was already going very well. Just as expected. Mitsuhide straightened and put on his best ‘trust me’ smile. “If there were any way we could have done it differently, I promise we would have. I hope we’ll be able to lay any worries you have to rest.”

She stepped over to his side and took his arm. “Yes, I plan on explaining everything.” His little mouse was the one to look nervous now. And no wonder. After much discussion, they’d decided on telling her family a version of the truth.

In fact, Sasuke and Miyake were supposed to come out the following day to provide backup evidence for their story. But even with that, they were asking her parents to accept a lot all at once. Mitsuhide did not see their chances of success as being very high, but for her, he would try anything.

Next: Bonding

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 35

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: fluff

A/N: i wanted to wait until tomorrow to post this but i have no self control. as promised, here’s some fluff. hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

     - We’re getting married. - she smiled at him, one of those sunny smiles that always made him feel like he was way too lucky to be marrying someone like her. Bucky leaned his forehead against hers, his hand caressing her the side of her waist as that sunny smile morphed into playful one. - You do have to leave this bedroom to get married though. 

     - But the bedroom is an important part of our marriage, princess.

     - No. You shouldn’t be even seeing me on our wedding day. It’s bad luck, besides Steve, Sam and Sharon are outside. - she played with the hair in the back of his neck. 

The super soldier playfully rolled his eyes at her answer. He hadn’t even had time to buy her an engagement ring or even tell anyone other than her parents and Steve, yet he guessed Sam and Sharon now knew it too, and yet the two of them were going to get married. Her family wasn’t here and it definitely wasn’t what he thought it’d be when he was younger. He’d pictured a much more traditional wedding, maybe somehow in the middle of war and he’d marry in his uniform with his family and hers surrounding them in a small little church yet, she was right. There weren’t a lot of things that were normal about them but she loved him and he loved her. That was the basis of marriage after all. 

His finger traced her jaw, feeling her features under the calloused texture of his fingers, the same features he hadn’t seen in two weeks and had barely seen yesterday. He examined everything, almost if he wasn’t going to see her again, yet that was mostly his mind screaming at him about the restraining order they could order. His eyes, however landed on almost fresh bruises at her lower neck. 

    - Princess, what this? - his fingers slightly lingered over her bruises. 

    - Oh ... - her gaze moved down before it moved up. - Stunt gone wrong while filming, it’s nothing major really.

    - Seems like something major, princess. It’s looks pretty bad. Did no one do anything?

   - It looks just like your bruise does. - she kissed his cheekbone. - Let’s go before Steve, Sam and Sharon resort to hearing behind the door.

He sighed, knowing she wouldn’t really say anything more about it so he dropped it, for now. The two of them left the bedroom and walked into the living area where Steve, Sam and Sharon were still sat in. 

   - So ... - Bucky started. - How do we do this? 

   - A wedding? - Sharon questioned. - We get an officiant, a marriage license, and make sure no one but us know about it. 

   - Oh Chuck has to know about it. He’s my only friend here and I’d like him to be present. 

   - Okay but we can’t do it here. - Steve added. - It’s most likely under surveillance and if they even dream you two are getting married, Bucky’s going right back to prison.

   - What do you suggest? - Y/N cocked her head to the side.

   - Me and Buck will get rings, Sam will get the marriage certificate and the officiant and Sharon will stay here with you. We’ll all meet at the HQ in an hour. 

   - You’ll be okay? - Bucky mumbled over to Y/N who nodded. - I’ll see you in an hour, okay?

   - I’ll be the one in white. Or at least something white. 

Bucky kissed the top of her head before leaving with Steve and Sam leaving her with Sharon. Of course like most girls she had pictured the eve of her wedding, even the hours before, what it would be like, who would be by her side, where it’d be. She had to admit it was very different from what she had envisioned but it was okay. Better have an odd wedding with the right person than the best wedding with the wrong one and she knew Bucky was the one. She felt it whenever he looked at her or whenever he’d fall asleep on her shoulder after telling her he wouldn’t. Her parents were right and so were the movies, when you know you know. 

She knew. 

    - I have to message Chuck. Maybe he can pass by my apartment and grab me something white. - she took her phone from her pocket to text Chuck.

    - Something new, something blue, something old, something borrowed. Luckily for you, I have your something new. 

Y/N furrowed her brows at Sharon as the blonde spy made her way inside her shared bedroom with Bucky. Y/N watching with confusion as she opened the small closet which was still a mess with packed boxes from both Bucky and Y/N which both of them kept putting off unpacking. Sharon moved some boxes and small trinkets off her way and pulled out a white big short rectangular box before putting it on top of the still yet to be made bed. 

The actress approached the edge of the bed as Sharon pulled the lid off and removed some packing paper from the top of whatever was laying inside. She quickly recognised what was inside of it, somehow through her prosecco influenced mind that night she could still remember what her favourite dress looked like. Her eyes looked up to Sharon’s before looking again at the dress, taking it from the box and holding it in front off her. 

     - When did you get this? No ... scratch that, when did you hide it in my flat?

     - Same night we got it. I’m prone to shop lifting when drunk. Besides there’s more than 5 thousand dresses in that shop, she won’t know. - Sharon shrugged, a proud smile on her lips. - You’re not gonna get married in a used white dress. You’re already not gonna have a big ceremony so you should at least have a wedding dress.

     - What if I get arrested? It’s illegal. 

     - It’s the least illegal thing I’ve done, besides, she won’t know and we can return it in the end if it makes you feel better.

     - It’s so pretty. - Y/N held the dress against her chest, almost hugging the fabric. - You’ll be my maid of honour right? I don’t have a lot of female friends here yet. 

     - Sure. Now, we have an hour to do preparation and hen’s night all together.

     - It’ll be okay, right? With Bucky ... they won’t hurt him because of me, right?

     - Don’t concern yourself with that now. It’s your day, no matter how little it is. Whatever comes after that, me, Steve, Sam will be there for you two. You’re family. 

     - I don’t want him to get hurt because of me. - Y/N dragged whatever tears were trying to spill out of her eyes with her knuckles. - I don’t want to be the reason he’s not free and he keeps telling me it’s fine but ... I love him so much and it broke my heart to see him handcuffed because of me when he’s been always there. 

     - Hey ... - Sharon patted the side of the bed next to her, waiting for Y/N to sit by her side. - No relationship is easy. I mean maybe most relationships don’t have the downsides yours has but you have something that only a small part of them have.

     - A huge age gap?

     - Hey, I have that too. - Sharon laughed before rolling her eyes. - Unconditional love. Trust me, it’s not easy for someone who is not in my “line of work” to understand what happened to Bucky and he isn’t one to open up easily. And you just love him and he just loves you. That’s all it matters at the end, that you love each other hard enough you will hold each other’s hands through the worse of storms. Not everyone has a hand to hold in their darkest moments and when you do, and when you know, those monsters become folklore. 

   - Wow, Sharon. If super heroing does not pan out for you, you should become a poet. - Y/N leaned her head against Sharon’s shoulder. - Well, if they don’t handcuff my fiance during the wedding, I don’t think it can get any worse. 

   - Good. Now hop onto the shower and only come up when you smell like a baked good. Exfoliate everything. 

   - Wait, what about something blue? I have something old ... and something new and ... somehow borrowed. What about something blue? 

   - You have Bucky. 

   - I have to be in something blue. 

   - Well, Bucky will be in you later tonight, I’m sure. Just get in the shower, Y/N. The clock is ticking. 

Bucky looked at himself in the mirror, old army suit on and somehow still fitting even with the metal arm. To be honest, Bucky was more surprised that a more than 70 year old suit hadn’t been made into a ball of threads and dust yet there it was looking exactly as it did when he first got it. He straightened his back and the lapels of his jacket, looking up only to return to a slouched position as the light hit the metal of his arm. James Buchanan Barnes was not the same man he was 70 years ago yet he was doing the thing which was expected of him back in his day. Now ... now she just had to show up and he hoped she did. All he wanted right now was to see her walk whatever path she was gonna walk, as long as she met him at the end. 

He straightened the lapels of his jacket once again, trying to appear as confident as he used to be back then. His rushing mindset was interrupted by a knock on his door.

   - Steve, not again. I’m still here and I’m fine. - he barked at the door.  

   - It’s not Steve. - his sister opened the door. 

   - Becca? - he abandoned the mirror to go to his sister. - What are you doing here? Is everything all right?

   - I would’ve preferred you telling me you were engaged and getting married today rather than one of your bride’s friends, I think his name is Chuck. - she crossed her arms, that childhood smile that she still remained making her way across her lips. - You think I’d let my big brother marry without me to see it? It took a long time but here we are. 

   - Yeah, getting married in the Avengers’ HQ. How romantic. 

   - Mum would be so happy. - she started to straighten up his tie. - She always said she wanted you to marry a nice girl and seems like you found one. Although, I was expecting you’d propose to her with mum’s ring. I guess you could give it to her for her birthday or something.

   - She doesn’t even have a ring. - he sat down on his old bed. - I feel like she might not even show up.

   - I’m sure that if she didn’t run away when she saw your baby photos, she won’t run away now. 

   - Bucky, five minutes. - Steve poked his head into his old bedroom. - Let’s make a move before the bride is there before you are.

Steve and Sam had decided it would be best to hold the wedding in the inner private garden where no one but the Avengers or people with an access pass could come into. No media, no police, nothing. Bucky did remember that garden, the one with the cherry blossom tree which was somehow always on bloom. Genetically engineered, Bruce had told him, whatever that meant. All he knew was that it was pretty, it was pretty enough for her to get married in with the flowers standing over where whom he guessed was the officiant and the petals which would fall with the wind, laying on the ground.

  - Dude, you’re not taking the photos. 

  - Sam, I am the best man, it is my duty.

  - You can barely use a phone. - Sam retorted. - Remember the last photos from yours and Sharon’s vacation?

  - C’mon Sam, we all loved to see Steve’s thumb in all of them. 

  - Fine, I guess I’ll just stay here and do nothing. - Steve stood by Bucky’s right next to Sam and his sister.

Time went slowly even when Sam told him Sharon was already in the building. Despite that, his mind still told him she wasn’t going to come. No one in their right state of mind would marry a super soldier, much less him. Definitely not him, he did not deserve this. He did not deserve this. Yet, she stood there at the end of the makeshift aisle with Sharon and Chuck by her side. 

He’d definitely heard many stories from many men and women about how they felt when they first say their loved ones on their wedding date but he never thought about how it would felt. It felt as if he could only see her, everything was blurred and blacked out and all he could see was her approaching him with a wedding gown and veil holding a few white flowers tied together with a white string. He definitely did not deserve her yet there she was. She was there and she took his hand standing by his side, looking more radiant, more beautiful, more ... god words failed, yet all he could say was he felt like he was floating. He was sure in that moment he had to be standing next to an angel. 

Y/N handed her flowers to Sharon before turning with Bucky to stare at the officiant. 

    - Welcome, friends, family and loved ones. We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two people in marriage. You have come here to share in this commitment they are making to one another and allow James and Y/N to start their married life surrounded by those who care and love them. Marriage is perhaps one of life’s great adventures, one where you chose someone who will see it through with you to the end and support you during your darkest and brightest times. A wedding ceremony is not what makes a marriage but merely a celebration of the choice you have made to support and love each other. This is merely the start of the life you two will carve together. Will you James take this woman to be your wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honour, cherish, and protect her, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?

   - Absolutely. - he turned to look at her, holding her hands in his, 

   - Will you Y/N take this man to be your wedded husband? Do you promise to love, honour, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?

   - Absolutely. - she giggled a bit. 

   - I have been told the bride and groom have chosen to say their vows in private so we will skip to the rings. Rings are nothing of importance and have no importance unless you give them value. Your wedding rings are a reminder and will be a reminder of the choice you made here today, a choice which is never ending. That’s why the ring is a circle, it’s never ending. - Steve handed Bucky one of the rings they had picked up in a rush from the jewellery shop downtown and Y/N the other one. - James, please place the ring on Y/N’s left hand and repeat after me. As a sign that I have chosen you, as proof of my love above all else, I give you this ring. With this ring, I thee wed.

   - As a sign that I have chosen you, as proof of my love above all else, I give you this ring. With this ring, I thee wed. - he slide the ring on her finger, thanking heaven he’d gotten the right size. 

   - Y/N, please place the ring on James’ left hand and repeat after me. As a sign that I have chosen you, as proof of my love above all else, I give you this ring. With this ring, I thee wed.

   - As a sign that I have chosen you, as proof of my love above all else, I give you this ring. With this ring, I thee wed. - she slide the ring onto his finger. 

   - And now by the power vested in me by the state of New York, it is my honor and delight to declare you married. You may now kiss the bride. 

Y/N gave him a little smile, nose scrunching as it did whenever she smiled out of shyness before he pulled her in for a kiss. It wasn’t long, it was a short and sweet. He knew the two of them had little time and would have to be back in the flat the sooner as possible but it was still a kiss. Their first kiss as a married couple. The two broke the kiss as the clapping became just too loud to ignore and she merely leaned her head against his shoulder, holding his hand in hers as the people around them clapped. 

   - Good, back on the road. - Steve said taking the lead to exit the garden to which everyone followed, with Bucky and Y/N behind them.

   - You look beautiful. - he mumbled to her, kissing her cheek as Sharon and Steve lead them to the back of the HQ where a white van was parked. - Where did Sharon get a van?

   - She stole the van. 

   - I didn’t steal it, Y/N. I borrowed it. I will park it back where it was. - she said as she entered the drivers seat, Steve opening the back for Y/N and Bucky to get in so no one would see them. 

The two of them just sat in the back of the van in silence. Her head leaned against his shoulder during the whole trip as he merely basked in the fact that he was married. Not only married, but married to her, to the woman whose head was now leaning against his shoulder. She’d chosen him, she’d come. 

Sharon parked behind his apartment, bringing the van to a stop as Steve hopped off to open the door to the apartment complex and Sharon opened the back of the van. Bucky was the first one off, reaching out for Y/N’s hand to help her out. 

   - Have fun. - Sharon winked at Y/N. - And I am keeping your bouquet. Maybe someone will take a hint.

   - Congratulations, Buck. Y/N, you look beautiful, congratulations on dealing with him for a very long time. - Steve added. - I don’t know how long, but expect a few more hundred years.

   - I am okay with that. - she smiled at Steve. - Thank you for helping out.

   - We will see you in court.

   - See you in court. 

Bucky kissed the top of her head as the two of them walked inside the apartment, hand firmly clutching hers as the two of them walked up the stairs with her in a rather voluminous dress. She just looked so beautiful to him, he was love drunk on merely her voice but looking at her just made it all even more intense. Catching her little side looks, a small giggles she’d let out whenever he’d kiss her cheek or lips mid climbing the stairs up to the floor where his flat was. It was a tiring day and right them both of them just wanted to be with each other and celebrate witch each other.

As they stood in front of his flat’s entry door, Bucky picked her up bridal style as if they were in some cheesy sitcom, yet it was tradition. 

   - Bucky, what are you doing? - she giggled at him, her hand holding her veil against her head so it wouldn’t fall down.

   - I have to carry my bride over the threshold, that’s just how it works. - Bucky opened the door to his flat and entered the place the two of them already called home with his wife in his arms. He helped her back on her feet before closing the door. Finally, it was just the two of them. - You look so beautiful, princess. 

   - You’re making me flush, Buck. - she turned her head to her own shoulder, her shyness looking absolutely endearing to him. Yet, everything she did was endearing to him. 

   - It always looks really sweet, princess. 

Bucky kissed the top of her head and walked up to the old vinyl player he’d gotten as a gift from Steve a few years ago which laid on top of a mahogany dresser leaning against the wall of the biggest window on the living room. He fished through a basket of old records, placing one on the vinyl player before walking up to his wife who had a curious look in her sparkling eyes.

   - What are you doing, Bucky?

   - I’m not doing anything. - he took her hand in his, softly and carefully pulling her towards him. - I want to dance with my wife.

She leaned her head against his chest, listening to his heart softly beating against his ribcage. Everything was so peaceful and despite all that was lying in front off them, they were just focused on each other and the music which softly played in the background. Nothing really mattered in that moment, it was just the two of them, his head buried in her neck and her head against his chest, softly lulling to side, one hand on her small back while the other one held her hand. Fingers intertwined, new shiny copper coloured thin bands on their fourth finger of their left hands. 

Wise man say only fools rush in but I can’t help falling in love with you. Shall I stay would it be a sin if I can’t help falling in love with you ...

    -  Bucky ... - she rose her head slightly up, not to disturb him. He moved his head to stare at her, bright blue eyes filled with calm seas. - I love you.

    - I know, princess. - he smiled, softly and slowly twirling her, before bringing her back to being flushed against his chest.

    - No, I don’t just love James Buchanan Barnes. I love all of you. - her free hand rested upon his chest, right over his heart. - I love what you’ve been, what you are and what you’ll be. I love you during your best times and during your worse times. I know you think you’re crazy and damaged but I don’t think you are. If I had gone through half you what’ve gone through, I wouldn’t be a good person after but you ... you decided to help other people, you’re kind, you’re warm. You have a golden heart, James Barnes, and I will always love it. No matter what happens. 

Bucky was taken aback by those words, almost as if he wasn’t expecting to hear them. Everything came back into flashbacks, a kaleidoscope of memories from seeing Steve in the train as he fell down, killing the Starks, almost killing Steve, the Zemo events and then it was just her. Seeing her for the first time in the preppy skirt and shirt, the little charming smile she had given him when she had interviewed him, hearing her sing for the first time, kissing her for the first time to seeing her walk down the aisle up to him just a few hours ago and he knew. Bucky knew he’d do it all over again, he’d go through all the pain, through all of what HYDRA did, through all of it as long as she’d be there at the end in her little cupcake shaped white wedding gown and shy smile. He’d do it over again. 

He’d do it over again for her. For her touch, for her embrace, for her smile and laughter. 

So take my hand, take my whole life too for I can’t help falling in love with you. Oh, I can’t help falling in love with you.

taglist: @disasterbi @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me​ @americasass81​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @lostinthebeans​ @mariahthelioness29​ @oh-nohoney​ @peaches-roses-sins​ @theadorasabditory​ @sipsteacasually​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @booktease21​ @noiralei​ @learisa​ @everythingisoverratedbutgreat​ @uglipotata72829​ @naturalthrone22​ @husherstan​ @mandiiblanche​ @vicmc624​ @newyorkgoddess​ @itsallyscorner​ @chipilerendi​ @emzd34 @writerwrites​ @bluevxnus​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @niki-is-a-thing​ @cynic-spirit​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​

[is-it-art-tho]

Summary: A mission gone awry, too many memories, too much blood, and not enough time. Bruce races to save a son he couldn't save before.

Prologue, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8

_________

Then.

“Who’s the bat now?” a young voice shouted.

Bruce paused halfway through the foyer and looked up. “Get down before you hurt yourself,” he called back.

Twelve-year-old Jason was hanging from the second-floor banister with his legs curled around the handrail, grinning impishly. “You sound like Alfred. We do way more dangerous stuff than this like every night.”

“That’s not the—” Bruce began, but the boy’s eyes zeroed in on the bowl of chocolates he was holding under his arm.

“Are those truffles?!” Jason stuck out his hands and grasped at the air between them. “Gimme gimme gimme!”

“You can have as many as you want once you get down.”

This, of course, was a lie. The first and last time Bruce had made a promise like this had involved a three-tiered cake left mostly untouched after a company party. He had been expecting Jason to have maybe three slices, max. The kid had instead eaten almost half of it, then proceeded to spend the rest of the night gagging and moaning over the toilet. (Alfred had laid into Bruce for that one: “What sort of promise is that to make to a child? Honestly!”)

A bright smile flashed across Jason’s face as he started to sit up before pausing then letting himself flop back upside down again with an accusatory frown. “Wait a second. You did that thing.”

“What thing?

“That thing with your eyebrows that you do whenever you’re makin’ stuff up.” Jason tried to demonstrate, scrunching his face around cartoonishly. “Liar.”

“All right, all right. Fair enough,” Bruce conceded, making a mental note to work on that particular tell. “But the point still stands. Leave that stuff for the practice mats and patrol.”

“Okayyy. But can you just throw one in my mouth? Please?”

Despite trying to maintain some semblance of sternness, a small grin tugged at the corner of Bruce’s mouth as he took in Jason’s pathetic excuse for puppy dog eyes. “Jason…”

“Just one?”

With a resigned sigh, Bruce plucked a single truffle from the bowl. “Alright. Just—”

***************************

Now.

“—one,” Bruce grunted over the pouring rain, adjusting the weight of Jason’s arm slung across his shoulders. When had he gotten so big? “C’mon, Jay. One step. There you go. One foot in front of the other.”

Jason’s head lolled forward as he struggled to remain upright, dragging a boot forward, then the other, his feet barely leaving the slick cobblestones. “I…hate Germany.”

“I know. We’ll be home soon.”

“Liar,” the young man rasped. He lifted his head enough to grin at Bruce, and it was a gruesome sight—his helmet was long gone, and now long trails of blood hung from his nose and mouth, his teeth a row of red—but it was somehow encouraging all the same.

“You can’t even see my eyebrows.”

“Don’t have to.”

Bruce feigned alarm. “Don’t tell me I have another tell.”

“Loads of ‘em.”

“Now who’s the lia—" he started then stopped abruptly.

The two of them heard it at the same time, muted in the downpour, but distinct—a series of quick and careful steps rushing up from behind.

Jason’s head swiveled first, and his eye that wasn’t swollen shut flew wide. Before Bruce had time to react, he was being shoved out of the way, stumbling on wet stones and falling hard as Jason spun to face the man in the balaclava that was charging towards them.

The assassin’s black uniform was barely visible in the shimmering dark of the rain, but as lightning tore through the clouds, he was lit in blinding relief, as was the ornate dagger in his hand.

And Bruce watched Jason spot the weapon too, but the young man's body was in no state to react the way it needed to, and in the span of a single breath, the dagger was gone, plunged deep into the young man’s abdomen.

The following crack of thunder was rivaled only by Bruce’s own roar.

***************************

Then.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Bruce stepped aside to let Jason shuffle past him and into Bruce’s personal quarters on the Watchtower, noting with a small pang of sympathy how the young boy started to limp as soon as the door closed behind them and there was no chance of one of the others seeing.

The boy flopped onto the bed with his face flat against the sheets. “Do what?”

“Go through all those drills with us,” he said, tugging off his shirt with some difficulty—already he was beginning to get sore. “It’s not an easy training routine. Even some of us tap out sometimes.”

“Wanted to.”

“Hm.” Bruce glanced at his bare torso in the mirror where bruises were already beginning to form. “Can I ask why?”

When Jason didn’t answer, he glanced at the boy in the mirror. “Jay.”

Still nothing. Had he passed out? Bruce turned, ready to rush him to the infirmary, only to find Jason perfectly awake and apparently furious. He was glaring at the ceiling with such an intensity Bruce had no doubt it would have melted if he’d had heat vision.

“This is about what Diana said,” he surmised, leaning back against the dresser. “You’re aware she wasn’t trying to offend you.”

“She said I wasn’t good enough.”

“No,” Bruce corrected patiently.

“She said I wasn’t as good as him.”

“She also said you had heart, which is something she doesn’t throw around lightly.” Bruce bent to pull a water bottle from the mini fridge and tossed it onto the bed beside Jason who made no move to grab it. “And you have to keep in mind Dick was almost sixteen the first time they met. He had a lot of experience under his belt by then. You just turned thirteen.”

“But it’s not just that,” Jason explained, openly exasperated. He sat up and pulled his domino off to cradle it in his hands like a living thing. “It’s everybody. Everybody thinks he was better than me. He’s the real Robin and I’m just…the replacement. I wanna show them that I’m the real thing, too. And that you didn’t make a mistake when you…”

He stopped short, but the rest of the sentence rang in the air anyway as if he had shouted it: You didn’t make a mistake when you chose me.

Bruce struggled to find the right words to say, to find that balance between sincerity and what Jason would certainly read as coddling. It was a fine line, and one he often stumbled over, and precious seconds ticked by in silence until at last Jason’s demeanor shifted.

The young boy’s face twisted into a stubborn smile, and Bruce knew instantly that the window of opportunity had passed.

“But who cares what they think anyway?” Jason smirked. “I know who I am so whatever.”

Another moment fumbled due to Bruce’s own ineptitude. He was no good at these conversations—not the way Clark and Alfred and even Dick were—and he cursed himself for it.

“Okay if I shower first?” the boy asked, scooting to the edge of the bed where he started unlacing his boots.

“Sure,” Bruce sighed. “Towels are in the drawer.”

Jason was nearly to the bathroom with a towel in hand when a knock came at the door and Bruce called, “Come in.”

The door slid open, and Clark stepped in, already showered and changed. In his hand was a pair of clippers.

“Thanks for letting me borrow these. Hey!” he beamed, turning to Jason. “Well, look at you!”

“What?” Jason shot back defensively, looking himself over. “What?”

“Nothing. Just happy to see you up and around so fast. You know, the first time we trained together as a team, this guy,” Clark held up a hand to block the fact that he was pointing directly at Bruce—Bruce saw it anyway—“came back here and slept for about eight hours. Everyone thought he was dead.”

“Seriously?!”

“No,” Bruce interjected.

“Alright. Five,” Clark allowed.

Bruce’s voice dipped threateningly. “Clark.”

“Did I mention he puked?”

By the time the deodorant left Bruce’s hand and exploded against the wall, Clark was already grinning mischievously from the other side of the room, his cape settling back around him.

Meanwhile, Jason was bent double, laughing harder than Bruce had seen in a long time. “You puked?” he wheezed.

“Like a fire hydrant,” Clark chimed, eliciting another roar of laughter. It was as innocent and contagious and perfect a sound as Bruce had ever heard, filling the small space easily.

The two men exchanged a quick knowing glance while Jason laughed, confirming what Bruce had suspected from the moment the other man had arrived—one way or another, Clark noticed that something was wrong.

Clark raised an eyebrow—a question—and Bruce nodded: He’ll be okay and Thank you packed into the quick dip of his chin. Clark smiled.

Setting aside the clippers, the Kryptonian crossed the room to pat Jason on the back, saying earnestly, “Good work today. Really.”

“Thanks,” Jason said, and this time the smile that slid across his face was genuine.

After Clark had gone, Jason whispered, “Did you really do all that stuff?”

“He exaggerated.”

“But?”

“Yes, I vomited,” Bruce offered at last, more than willing to fall on this sword if it meant hearing that sound again. After a moment’s consideration he added, “Flash slipped in it.”

And again, Jason was howling, letting himself fall back against the wall and as he gripped his ribs. “I can’t breathe!” he gasped between peals of laughter. “I—"

[percywinchester27]

La Petite Mort

Word count: 2.1K

Pairing: Dean X Reader AU

Warnings: None, just fluff, humour and implied sex ;)

Series Summary: The reader has just shifted to a new flat and boy, someone on the floor has a really banging sex life! The passionate moans have been keeping her up for several nights in row and enough is enough! Reader has her suspicions, but is it really the green-eyed hottie from room no. 307?  

A/N: It’s a neighbours!AU. I’m finally writing one. So excited to share it with you guys. Hope y’all like it! <3

Beta: The best babe, @deanssweetheart23​​​​​

Everything was fine till the banging started. Pun very much intended.

The shift had been smooth, the job was going great and life was finally on track. You had slid under the covers with the most satisfied smile in years only to be woken up to a lady very, very, very happy with her life.

Oh yeah… oh yeah… ahhh right there… oh fuck yeah…

You sat up right in your bed, eyes wide, face hot.

Third night in a row. Third fucking night. Literally.

What in the good heavens? The landlady might have mentioned this while renting out the flat!

Shoving the pillow over your ears, you fell back onto the mattress, closing your eyes shut very tightly. Eventually sleep overtook you and you lapsed into lousy dreams of trying to catch the taxi which kept evading you. Not a metaphor for your sex life at all. Nope.

The disturbed sleep didn’t help your mood the following day. Everyone at the office thought of you as a happy-go lucky person. Lately, they were seeing this whole new dark side of you. Sleep was essential to your functioning. 

In the evening, on your way back, you stopped by the coffee shop downstairs to pick up a brownie. It was a little place; busy yet quaint. The barista, Charlie, made two hearts in your coffee instead of one. That put the biggest smile on your face. 

At least, the day was ending on a high note.

Your newly rented flat was on the third floor of a very complicated building. One staircase did not directly lead into another. An entire hallway had to be crossed to get to it. The design probably broke a hundred different by laws and someone was definitely paid off in the city civil office to get a construction permit. You did not want to imagine how the people would fare in case of a fire emergency. Learning the escape plan was like memorising the map of a treasure hunt. You escape, you win. You lose… whoops! Better luck in next life. But the rent was cheap and you were already living all the clichés of a struggling writer- one incomplete book, a job at a publishing house and addiction to coffee. So, yes, you would brave fire when it came to being able to afford a living.

Struggling with the brownie package and the coffee in your hand you jammed the key into the door. It didn’t go in. 

What the hell?

You tried again, and once more the key got jammed. On a closer look, you realised that the lock didn’t resemble yours at all. Stepping back, you peered at the door. 307. Not 306- which was yours.

The floor design was insane and instead of the flats being lined up next to each other, they were all fronting one another in a haphazard fashion. Shaking your head, you took a step back and jammed the key into the lock of your own flat.

Jesus! You’re losing it, Y/N.

Shirking off the mild irritation, you cooked yourself a hot cup of instant noodles, put on your favourite TV show and slinked into your couch. Tonight’s episode was going to reveal who the murderer was and you had been dying for the suspense to finally end. 

Just when the protagonist was about to point a gun at the killer in the shadows…

Oh my God... you’re incredible… aahhhh… ahhhh… ahhh…

You completely abandoned the TV and jumped up from the sofa. The fire hazard might still be worth it, but the thin walls so weren’t.

On tiptoes, you made your way to the east side wall, putting your ear against it. The noise wasn’t coming from upstairs. That was the only sure thing. But it was impossible to pinpoint the direction. The moans were reverberating through the walls. So loudly that there was no escaping it. Not in the bedroom, the kitchen or the living room sofa. 

Of all of them, the east wall seemed like the culprit. 

Right there… yeah…

307. Whoever it was in that room needed to calm the FUCK down. You grabbed your blanket and dragged it to the end of the living room, fuming. What ticked you off was how much this was ticking you off.

It’s sleep you told yourself. The lack of sleep was the only thing making you mad. The sex noises couldn’t be it. Because there were other noises- a dog barked somewhere occasionally, one of the rooms had a very loud stereo and someone was too much into baking- the beater was ceaseless. No, it had to be the timing and your wrecked sleep schedule.

Just like the nights before, you covered your ears and started reciting the story of the manuscript you had been reading at work. Eventually, sleep overtook you again.

The next morning you woke up in a crappier mood. If that was even possible.

Breathing down on anything and everything, you locked the door on your way out for work. Turning into the corridor, you ran into a wall of solid flesh. 

In your groggy, sleep deprived state, the first thing you noticed was the way he smelled- leather and whiskey and something headier than that. It was divine. Next, you looked up into those eyes- stunning green, like sparkling water running over jade.

“Easy there, sweetheart!” The guy smirked. 

You straightened yourself and took a step back. In front of you stood the most handsome guy you had ever seen. He was tall, with dirty blond hair, almost brown, and those stunning eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. You had one of those dumb faces that gave away every damn thought crossing through your brain, so obviously you tried your best not to meet his gaze. Which was a shame really. That face demanded to be ogled at. Let alone the body that followed.

“No, no… I didn’t mind at all.” 

You saw him reach out to the door of 307.

“You’re the one who lives there?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure. You want a tour?”

Uhgg the best looking guy and he has to be such a douche!

Slipping past him, you stomped off towards the stairs. This too-good-looking-for-the-world asshat had been ruining your nights and in turn your life. 

You knew it was wrong to be mad at him without, at least, talking about the issue first. A polite conversation explaining your situation wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world now, would it? But how does one start a conversation pertaining to that? After all, he wasn’t exactly the one making the noise. What would you say?

So, hey would you mind pleasuring your girlfriend a little less? 

Or better. Ever heard of a ball gag?

Mere thought of it made you shudder.

The work day was spent trying to shove your neighbour's stupidly handsome face out of your mind. It didn’t help that your mother kept calling, repeatedly. You knew what she had to say. How you should have taken that bigger job at Royal’s publishing. How the writing career might never take off. How you really should get a boyfriend now, or you’ll be the only unmarried cousin in the family.

Usually you could entertain your mother with well-timed hmms and ahhs. Today wasn’t that day.

Bone-tired and absentminded, you jammed the key in the keyhole in the evening, only for it to get stuck again. You looked up at the door. 307.

Well, shit!

Putting both your hands into it, you yanked the key with all your might, just as the door opened. There he stood, with his crooked smirk, dimples digging in, wearing nothing but a thin cotton t-shirt and sweatpants that hung all too low on those hips.

“You don’t need to break into my house. I already offered a tour.” Of course, god gave him an irresistible voice. Cause at this point, why not?

“Sorry,” you muttered, looking anywhere but at him. “I keep getting the wrong door. This one’s mine.”

“Oh, so you’re the one in 306!” You could feel his smirk more than see it. “Looks like you’re having a good ol’ time in there.”

“Excuse me?”

The guy raised scratched the back of his neck, face apologetic. “You might… ya know… just keep the voice down in there?”

The audacity of this guy!

“Rich of you to ask anyone to keep it down!” You hissed. “Why don’t you tell your girlfriend to keep it low?” 

With that, you shut your door in his surprised face. The worst part was, after bumping into him in the morning, your mind was producing distinct images of him in the bed, doing things to a woman. You had tried your best not to let them make a home in your head. But like a stickly tenant, they refused to evacuate. No wonder it was hard to look him in those brilliant, brilliant green eyes. The guy was hot! There was no denying that. You weren’t even willing to accept to yourself just how much time you had put into imagining him naked.

If anything, the denial mixed with your pre-existing irritation and sleep deprivation had you ready tonight. 

So the moment the enamoured voice started begging, you hopped out of your chair. You had every intention of yelling yourself hoarse at the delectable resident next door, but the moment you stepped into the corridor, you came face to face with the very man. 

He was- thankfully, completely clothed- looking a bit harassed, himself.

aahhhh… ahhhh… ahhh… right there...

Your head whipped up to the suspected direction of the voice, and back at him. “Wait, you aren’t… it’s not...?”

His face mirrored your expression of surprise and then he burst out laughing. “Looks like we’ve both been played.”

“Not intentionally,” you said, peering at the adjacent doors, mostly to not look at him. “Where do you think it’s coming from?”

He shot a glance at the door opposite to his. “If it’s not you, my best guess is that guy over there. I mean, if you ask me, Nick over there doesn’t look the type to make a woman that happy… but what do I know?”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions about people,” you said, taking a tentative step towards the said door.

Mr. hot guy smartpants laughed. “Oh, trust me. He’s the douchiest douche you’ll ever meet. Guy like that? Definitely selfish in bed.”

You frowned at him.

“He asks women in the street to smile more,” hot guy explained.

“Uhhgg… yeah you’re right. It’s definitely not him.”

Hot guy pointed his fingers at the rest of the doors. “That one’s rented by three guys. I don’t think it’s them. Mrs. Hendrickson over there works night shifts. I have no clue who lives in there,” he pointed to the last door, directly in front of you.

Goodness you’re amazing...

“Yes, lady, we already know!” He called out.

You couldn’t help the giggle that burst through your lips.

His eyes softened. “Dean Winchester,” he said, offering his hand.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, taking his. He had a firm grip. A very funny sensation gripped your stomach. Like a flutter. Nervousness? 

“It’s great to meet you, Y/N.” He smirked. “I sure wish the circumstances were better.”

You bit your lip. “Listen, I’m sorry for the comment about your girlfriend. I was just mad about, you know... “

“Don’t worry about it. My non-existent girlfriend is very cool. She took no offense.”

You snorted.

“I was dead serious about the house tour,” He winked. “I can promise great coffee.”

“Sure, sometime soon.”

He shot a look at the door with the unknown occupants again. “I hate to leave this here, but I think we should get whatever kind of shuteye we can while they’re quiet over there, huh?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hurried back to your flat. “Night, Dean.”

He gave you his crooked grin again, just a hint of mischief. “Night, Y/N.”

You knew it wasn’t him now, and he was right about making the most of the quiet and fucking off to sleep, and yet, each time you closed your eyes, your mind decided to replay your imaginations for you. With a start, you sat up in your bed, a thought occurring to you like a hit on the head- If you had been thinking about him that way? Had he been imagining you as well?

Blood rushed to your face at the very idea. Though a tiny part of you begged for the answer- would it be such a bad thing if he had?

*********************

A/N 2: So? So? SO??? What do you think?

I value each and every reblog more than I can tell you! Thank you! Feedback is love and life!

This series will have a total of 5 or 6 parts max.

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[moonlit-imagines]

Close Quarters

Carol Danvers x reader

warnings:

a/n: for @lotsoffandomimagines!!!! my holiday gift 2 u its right here and it is this!!! hope u like it legend!! have nice next 24 hours and also hopefully also a nice 365 days after the next 9 days of this year yeah??? yeah. yeah ALSO I LOVE U

prompt:

As two of the newest members of the Kree Starforce, you two got the short end of the stick. That meant bunking up together, sharing your quarters, but was it really all that bad? After all, Vers wasn’t awful company.

The only thing that you knew about Vers is that she didn’t know a thing about herself. But over time, you did learn that she was a hothead, a little sarcastic and snarky, an awesome friend, and a formidable opponent.

“Ooh, that’s gonna hurt in the morning.” You curled up on the mat, rolling over in surrender while Vers let out some amused laughter.

“You said not to take it easy on you!” She defended, offering to hoist you back to your feet. Little did she know that you weren’t down for the count just yet. You yanked her arm back, kicked her leg out, and dodged her fall as she landed beside you on the mat.

“I didn’t know you fought dirty, y/n.” She and you peered at each other from different angled and burst into a fit of laughter on the floor, it was definitely ill-timed since Yon-Rogg entered at that moment.

“Do either of you take anything seriously?” He rubbed his temples while Vers scrunched up her face and mocked him.

“Someone sounds grumpy today.” You sat up and twisted around to face his unamused expression.

“I just came here to remind you that it’s lights out in twenty. I don’t want to hear your ear-splitting laughter for the rest of the night, are we clear?” He warned, causing you and your teammate to give him simultaneous sarcastic “uh-huh’s” while smirking at each other. He wasn’t going to waste his breath on you two, so he left without another word. Vers and you stifled snickers as you leaned back on the floor.

“So, you ready to call it a night?” She asked, lazily turning her head towards you.

“I guess,” you sighed, “I don’t think we have much of a choice, he’ll send Minn-Erva to put us in our place or whatever.” You rolled your eyes at the thought of her and pushed yourself off the ground once more.

“Yeah, what’s up with her? Do you get the vibe she doesn’t like us or something?” Vers stood up and brushed herself off.

“Maybe it’s just a newbie thing.” You shrugged. “Let’s get out of here.”

You and Vers walked down the hallway side by side, pushing on each other with your shoulders and stumbling back and forth, joking about how the team was too high maintenance, and making new memories for her.

The pair of you didn’t waste time getting ready to rest.

I’m totally kidding, of course you did.

“Vers, have you seen my nightshirt?” You rummaged through your clothes.

“No, I totally have not.” She replied with the apparel in hand.

“Come on, V! Do you prefer me to sleep shirtless or something?” You snatched it back and quickly changed.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” She replied smugly, holding up your bottoms as well. “I suppose you want these back, too.” You blinked in disbelief as her grin began to grow, and she snorted once you buckled and took them back.

“Didn’t realize they stuck me in quarters with a thief.” You joked, pulling on your pants and crawling into your bed on the bottom bunk. Vers called dibs on the top bunk as soon as she was assigned to this room, but is that surprising? “‘Lights out!’” You mocked with a clap and let the room go dark.

“Actually, they stuck you in quarters with the coolest Starforce member ever, don’t get it twisted.” Your bunk mate corrected, climbing onto the other bed. “See you bright and early, Starshine.” Vers and you got comfy under the covers and drifted off.

It felt like seconds before you opened your eyes again. There was tossing and turning from your roommate, her breathing got louder and you suddenly heard a gasp.

“Vers, you okay up there?” You whispered, throwing the covers away and hopping off your bunk. As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you saw her leaning on her forearms and checking her surroundings.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She assured you, turning on her side and observing your worried expression. “Weird dreams, I guess.” You could tell that they bothered her more than she’d like to admit. What did she expect? After sharing a room for so long, you picked up on these things.

“‘Weird dreams,’ huh? Indulge me.” You requested, cocking an eyebrow. You knew she would, you were one of the only people she’d be willing to tell.

“Aw, you care.” Vers stuck her hand out and waved it in your face. “Whatever, get up here.” You delightfully accepted and hopped in bed with her, lying down near the wall and waiting for her to turn to the other side, leaving your faces just a few inches apart. “Alright, so they’re kind of spotty. Memory bank isn’t all that great, you know?” You nodded along and listened intently. “I dont know, really. I guess it felt like something from my past, but it also didn’t.”

“What was it?” You inquired, resting your hand on hers that fell in between the two of you.

“I felt like...like I was scared. But I still did the things that scared me.” She explained, staring down at your touch. “I can’t put it any other way than that. Dreams are hard to remember once you’re awake, you know?” Her eyes flickered up to yours.

“Yeah, I get what you mean.” You struggled to keep yours open. “Ever have any dreams like this before?”

“Not really. My dreams are mostly about you.” She nonchalantly whispered, watching your eyes go wide as you stammered an answer to that admittance.

“R-really?” You watched her suck in her lips to hide a smile and swatted her shoulder. “I can’t believe you, Vers.”

“Hey! Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” You shook your head at her flirtatious remarks and flipped onto your other side to face the wall, which meant that you’d be spending the night on her bed. “What about your dreams?” You felt her hand on your side.

“They’re not like yours.” You moved flat on your back, tossing more than she was in her sleep. “Just a bunch of stuff jumbled together, not that deep.”

“They could be deep, what if you’re not analyzing them hard enough?” She suggested, making you groan.

“Nooo, no more talking about what our dreams mean!” You whined and continued to talk about each of your dreams until you nodded off to sleep.

And with another blink, you were awake. Vers was already awake, but not quite out of bed yet. She was waiting for you.

“Guess we passed out, but I think it was worth it.” She told you.

“Agreed.” You said as she leaned towards you and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Up and at ‘em, Starshine.”

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[acnelli]

Coming Home

This is my little story for the HPRomione Discord Popcorn. @remedial-potions gave me the prompt “You can’t just keep pretending things are fine!” and I originally wanted to write some HBP angst, but then changed my mind and wrote this.

Up next is @dot-adsty and I give you the prompt “Flying higher than ever before”.

I also opened my Ask Box and accept prompts from this Prompt List.

Prompt: “You can’t just keep pretending things are fine!”

Ron comes home from a long Auror mission, and Hermione’s plans for the night don’t quite go as she imagined.

You can also read this story on AO3 and FFN.

*** *** *** ***

She had it all planned out.

Every little detail, every single thing Hermione needed to buy or prepare for tonight had been neatly written down in handy list form, categorized and sorted.

Around noon it actually looked like everything would be ready when Ron would come home from his Auror mission this late afternoon. Behind half of the points on said list, Hermione had added a green checkmark. The sight of her lists, especially when some of her tasks on it had been checked off already, always had something oddly satisfying.

To have enough time to prepare everything, she left work early today, stopping by the grocery store on her way back home to buy the last of the ingredients she needed for the roast she planned to make for dinner.

Cooking wasn’t really Hermione’s forte. When Ron was home and didn’t have to work ridiculous hours, the flat was always filled with the scent of some delicious meal or another, and on weekends they often enjoyed a cake or some cookies fresh out of the oven. In the last two months, she sure did cook for herself every now and then but she got to admit that these meals mostly consisted of pasta and sandwiches.

When she planned this day she first considered going with take-away, which she was sure, Ron would’ve been more than fine with. But then she quickly dismissed the idea, figuring that following the instructions of Mrs Weasley’s cookbook couldn’t be that hard. It might not win a contest but she was sure to manage something eatable, at least.

Before she went into the kitchen to start preparing the roast, Hermione observed their living room, mentally going through her list again.

On their couch table Hermione had set up the brand new chess set she bought last week while shopping with her mother. Hermione had discovered the set in the display window of a small, cosy shop she would’ve completely missed it if weren’t for the unusually bright colours catching her attention when she walked by. As soon as she had seen the chess set, she made her way inside the shop right away because it practically screamed Ron Weasley. While not exactly the same bright colour of the Chudley Cannons, the usually white squares and wooden game pieces were painted orange. If she wouldn’t have purchased it from a Muggle, it could’ve been easily merchandise of Ron’s favourite Quidditch team.

Hermione walked over to the couch table and placed two tickets for the next Chudley Cannons game this upcoming weekend onto the chessboard. A smile split her face when she thought about his reaction later. Over the past six months the Cannons actually showed some kind of potential to not end up at the bottom of the league at the end of the season, resulting in the tickets to have gotten a little harder to come by. At least, for top games and derbies.

She knew it was probably a little over the top, considering they had been separated for much longer than eight weeks over the last years, but the constant worry and the almost non-existent possibility to talk or write to him during these missions, increased her excitement for Ron to come home ten-fold.

Yes, Hermione definitely felt slightly ridiculous when she placed a giant red bow around the TV and put the fancy Muggle beer into the fridge, but Ron’s absence caused a restlessness she had to overcome somehow. It also didn’t help that the few letters she got from him made Ron sound mentally and physically exhausted. Even though she knew next to nothing about this mission, she could tell it affected him more than usual.

That’s why today was all about distracting Ron from work, and what would hopefully be the start of a long, stress-free weekend.

But, of course, it would have just been too perfect if anything went according to plan. Because one hour before Ron was due to arrive at home, everything started to blow up in Hermione’s face. Literally and figuratively.

While she tried to research a way how to fix overcooked meat, Hermione cursed herself numerous times for not doing a test run first. Hermione had plans for everything but when it came to cooking she was obviously rubbish.

I should have just ordered Pizza. Ron loves Pizza.

Giving up on the meat’s consistency she quickly decided that spices and a good sauce could somehow safe this. Just as she was about to add all kinds of spices, she heard the fireplace roaring to life.

Ron was here. And he was early.

Forgetting all about the roast, she bolted out of the kitchen and into the living room, almost tripping over one of the loosened bindings of Ron’s ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron she borrowed. And there he stood, shaking the floo powder out of his hair and off the Auror uniform.

When he looked up at her she didn’t waste another second and jumped into his arms. Something between a sob and a laugh escaped her when Ron hugged her close and she felt him kiss the top of her head.

Pulling back, Hermione took Ron’s face between her hands and tugged him down for a kiss. She waited far too long for this.

When they finally broke apart to come up for air again, Ron softly kissed her forehead. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” Hermione said, “And I have a surprise for you!”

“So, you cooking isn’t the surprise?” Ron grinned at her.

“Oh, shut up!”

“Do I have time for a quick shower before dinner?” Ron asked as he shrugged out of his cloak.

“You do. And please take your time.”

*** *** *** ***

Ron couldn’t decide if he was more amused or felt more sorry for Hermione as the 3-course-dinner turned into a small disaster.

With the soup, it had been rather easy. It was incredibly salty and he probably dehydrated this very second, but with a good amount of bread and large swigs from his beer, he was able to pretend he liked it quite easily.

But then Hermione served the main course. As soon as Ron took the first bite he wanted to spit it out right away. It was absolutely inedible and he wondered how he could pretend to eat something which wasn’t tasting like the sole of his trainers.

Very slowly he reached for his beer, figuring it would be easier if he swallowed the bite without chewing. Just as he was about to take a swig, Hermione gave up all pretence.

“Oh my God, this is a complete disaster,” she whined, spitting the piece of meat into a hand towel, “Ron, you can give up the act now.”

As he too spit the overcooked shoe sole out of his mouth, he couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping him, and reached for Hermione’s hand.

“Not all is lost,” he reasoned, a little bit surprised about her being so upset about this dinner. Hermione’s attempts to cook or bake usually made for a lot of entertainment for both of them. “There’s still dessert, isn’t it?”

“Yes, right! Dessert!” She jumped up from her seat and ran into the kitchen with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“NO,” Ron heard Hermione cry from the kitchen and he immediately jumped up to join her, “No, Pig! No, no, no, no, no!”

As Ron got into the kitchen he saw Pig sitting in a bowl full of what looked like vanilla cream, happily hooting at Hermione who appeared to be on the verge of tears now. Of course, Pig chose this very moment to finish his bath in their pudding as he flew out of the bowl with wildly flapping wings, coating both Hermione and Ron with a good amount of vanilla cream; Hermione’s hair getting the worst of it.

Ron slowly lifted a finger and swiped some cream from his cheek, licking it off as he was wearing a thoughtful look. “That is pretty good, actually.”

“Oh, stop it!” Hermione let out a resigned sigh. “You can’t just keep pretending things are fine! You have some terrible weeks behind you, and then you come home to your girlfriend serving you food that makes you probably crave the tasteless snacks they feed you with on these missions. I should’ve just-“

“Oi!” Ron interrupted her, not quite being able to hide his amusement. “Stop the rambling, barmy woman.” He took her face in his hands and leaned down, so he was at eye level with her. “All I wanted for today was finally seeing you again, Hermione. You never before got upset about bollocking up some cooking. What’s the matter?”

“I- I just wanted to distract you from this mission and make this evening somewhat special, and by now, Pig most likely decorated the whole living room with our pudding.”

Ron simply kissed her. His hands went from her cheeks inside her curly hair, changing their angle a bit to deepen the kiss. As Hermione let her hands wander from his chest back to his shoulders blades and down to the hem of his shirt, Ron decided to make it very clear to Hermione that everything he really needed to feel better, was her. This mission forced Ron to see things he’ll have nightmares about forever, and the only reason he was able to power through all of it, was the prospect of coming home to Hermione. To her touch, to her kisses, to her ramblings about work, to the simple comfort of just having her beside him.

With one swift motion, he swooped her up in his arms. “For such a smart woman, you can be very daft sometimes, love,” Ron said as he walked out of the kitchen.

“I know,” Hermione sighed as she took advantage of her position in Ron’s arms, and left open kisses along the side of his neck and his throat.

Without bothering to clean up the mess in the kitchen and living room, Ron walked them straight to the bedroom, leaving behind a merrily hooting Pigwidgeon who hopped and danced on top of Ron’s new chessboard, coating it with the only eatable dish Hermione produced today.

[the-avengers-ate-my-tongue]

The Storm

Summary: You work with Jack Crawford and Alana is your cousin, both of you live together for a long time. She gets caught up with a flat tire far away and asks you to let Will in, for he's expecting her. A storm is coming, and she keeps taking longer and longer to show up. Will the universe conspire in your favor?

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: swearing, insinuation of smut, fluff.

Word count: 4.328

A/n: I'm starting to consider changing this tumblr for a Hannibal one, mostly Will Graham, so some requests from other fandoms would be nice haha hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing ♥️

*not my gif

There wasn't a thing such as a boring day at the BAU. 

At least not when you're part of Jack Crawford's crew. There was always an interesting case to focus on, a disfigured body to study the reason of death, it was always a thrilling hunt for evidence. The best experience I've ever had so far in my career, and I could only thank my cousin Alana for putting me on the Guru's radar. I was a great crime scene investigator, albeit a little younger than people gave me credit for. I taught people not to underestimate me over the years, though. I got here by my own effort, being a tenacious, hard-working woman who wouldn't get a no for an answer. 

I got along well with my crewmates, Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price, though our relationship hardly extended for life outside work. Except for Beverly, we went out for a couple of beers sometimes, she was fun, witty and I really liked our conversations. Jack was the big boss, and that was it. I had a lot of respect for him, and I knew he didn't regret bringing me to his team, I could see it in his eyes in the first case I've got. I was very cunning when I shared my insights about the cases, sometimes I saw things no one else could, no one but…

Of course, I was far, far away from being a Will Graham. But ever since I was younger, I've had this sort of intuition that helped me to solve problems, I would solve riddles easily and when people asked me how I got to the answer, I wouldn't know the steps, I just knew deep in my bones I was right. That happened a lot when I was growing up and was even stronger now that I knew how to use it. It was some artifice of my inconscient, something I could always count on. It included everything in my life, math, logical thinking, riddles. My brain picked things I couldn't perceive clearly, bringing them to the clear waters of my conscience. 

Will Graham was a curious man. He intrigued me from the very first moment I saw him at the house of one of the last victims of The Minnesota Shrike, Garret Jacob Hobbs, now dead. He was practically hiding in a corner, his eyes closed behind the lens of his glasses, dark wavy hair, jawline for days. He seemed highly focused until Beverly started to talk to him, pulling him out of his daze. He could barely look at her, or at me, and although he looked socially awkward and troubled, he still managed to look like a daydream. I studied every inch of his face, lowering my gaze when he seemed to get uncomfortable, after smiling lightly. I was a bit shy myself. I lived with Alana and, when I got home that night, I absentmindedly asked her about that curious handsome man who seemed to be out of place, yet so connected to that scene. She started to talk about him, but stopped once she noticed my interest. Then, she told me he was a very unstable person, that she wouldn't even be alone in the room with him because of her professional curiosity. As time passed and he solved more and more cases, I could see how people looked at him like an attraction of the zoo. However, not me, and later, not Beverly. Brian didn't seem to like him very much, I could see. Envy, perhaps? Nevertheless, the more I saw Will, the more intrigued I got. He avoided eye contact like the plague, but as I was always friendly and tried my best to treat him like a normal person, not focusing only on work, dead bodies and serial killers, I saw more of those beautiful blue eyes. He knew I was Alana's cousin, and I sooner realized he had a fling for her. 

And boy, did that break my silly little heart. I wasn't surprised, though. Who could blame him? Alana was amazing. I never felt resentful for that, but as time passed, I started to detach from the idea of Will being somewhat more than a simple acquaintance. That afternoon, I was going home from work when I got a call from Alana.

"Speak fast, I'm driving." I said, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other holding my phone.

"You're going home? Great. I invited Will so we could talk about a profile I'm building, but I got caught up here. I already spoke to him, he's almost there, can you let him in? He said he'll wait, and I'll be home in about fifty minutes, no more than that, hopefully." She said in a hurry, and I felt my cheeks burn a little. Will and me? Home alone? 

"I…" I hesitated, chewing my bottom lip nervously. "You won't be long, right? Heard on the radio there’s a storm for later."

"I won't, promise. Just let him in, he's already aware I'll take a little longer to be there. See you soon. Thanks, Y/n!" She hung up, not leaving me any time to answer. I put the phone down, still chewing on my bottom lip. I could feel excitement rising on my stomach, making me feel slightly nauseated, and noticed my hands starting to sweat.

Please. That was ridiculous. What was I, a teenager? I was a grown-up, well-succeeded woman, for God's sake. I rubbed my hands on my jeans, driving a little faster than I usually did almost unconsciously. I got home after twenty minutes, parking outside the pretty house. Will was already there, leaning against his car, so lost in his thoughts he barely noticed I'd arrived. I looked at my reflection at the mirror hurriedly, fixing my hair, pinching my cheeks to look less pale, brushing my eyebrows with my fingers to make them look neat. I wasn't even wearing any lipstick today. It had been a long day at work. 

I opened the car door, exiting the vehicle, the noise from shutting the door finally bringing him out of his daze, and he finally seemed to notice me. He smiled lightly, lowering his eyes. He had his glasses on, but as soon as he saw me, he took them off, hanging them on his shirt.

"Hey, Will. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. There was a little bit of traffic." I justified, walking to the porch and waiting for him to follow me. 

"Y/n. Not at all, I just got here. Alana explained what happened, thanks for coming to let me in. Hope I didn't ruin any appointment you may have had." He waited until I unlocked the door, and we finally were engulfed with the warm air of the heater.

"Nope, I was coming home, no appointments lost. Please, come in. I'm not sure you've ever been here before, but make yourself home." I hung my trench coat, sighing with the pleasure of being home. I loved the atmosphere of that place. "Can I get you anything? Water, soda, beer…"

"Thank you. I'm fine. And no, I haven't been here before." I held back the temptation of saying "good", biting my bottom lip as I watched him sit on the couch. I just stood there for a while, not sure of what to do next. 

He frowned a little, probably thinking why I was acting so weird, and that made me nervous, because it was just an easy step to realize my silly crush on him. Did he know? What if Alana said something? Said something? For fuck's sake, he was Will Graham, he could probably see that written across my stupid face! Shit, he knows. I'm making a fool of myself. Why do I even…

"Is everything okay?" His voice startled me a little, pulling me out of my neurotic breakdown, and I wondered how my facial expressions looked. Was I blinking only one eye like the stereotyped madness of cartoons? I certainly didn't look normal. I cleared my throat, laughing lightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I'm not really used to having people over anymore. I've been working a lot lately. People are dying like flies." I sat on the armchair in front of him, sighing. 

"What we do can be overwhelming sometimes. What we see every day. It just… stains you." He said, with a dark look on his serious eyes. 

I nodded. I felt that way sometimes, but I was used to it. I stopped feeling that sense of inadequacy on my chest years ago. 

"I guess you just begin to cope with it, though. Our brain adapts to that harsh reality. But it's always nice to vent somehow. What do you do in your free time?" I asked, wondering if I was getting too personal. Did I sound like I was probing to ask him out?  I felt my face getting warm. Damn it.

Either he didn't realize, or he was just too chivalrous to point, but he didn't mention anything.

"I fish." He said, simply. I nodded with a light smile.

"And you play with your doggies." I pointed, smiling wider. I loved dogs. He'd mentioned them before, so I just brought the subject up, trying to shift the attention from me to them. Will smiled back, his eyes with a subtle glow. He really loved them, and that was so sweet. "Fishing sounds nice. Unfortunately, I could never. I'm too restless. I'd probably startle all the fish and wouldn't catch anything."

He laughed, and that was the first time I ever heard that sound coming out of him. I felt like I was someone deaf that was able to hear the sound of Mozart's symphonies for the first time, and I just knew. There was never detachment from the idea of Will being more than an acquaintance. It was tackled down inside my brain somewhere, for the brain tends to adapt to harsh realities, but it was still there, just waiting for some incentive. 

"It's just a matter of training, getting used to it. I could teach you someday… if you want." He blinked a few times, as if he was surprised with his own boldness, smiling lightly. "And you? What do you do to vent?" He asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"Well, I read a lot. Maybe I could read by the riverside while I watch you fish." I said, shrugging with a subtle smile.

"It's a date, then?" Will inquired, making me mortified. Caught me by total surprise, and when I was about to say something, my phone rang.

"Excuse me." I answered the phone. It was Alana. "Hey. We're already here waiting for you."

Not that I wanted her to arrive any time sooner, but she didn't have to know that.

"You won't believe me; I've got a flat tire. There's a guy helping me out, I was lucky, I'm in the middle of nowhere. But I'll get there in about fifty more minutes, more or less. Can you put Will on the phone? I'll explain everything to him."

"Do you need one of us to pick you up? I'm sure he wouldn't mind, I wouldn't…"

"No, he's almost done. Thank you. Let me talk to Will, I'll be there soon. The storm is about to catch me, I wanna hurry."

I sighed, grimacing at him. 

"She wants to talk to you." I passed him the phone, studying his expressions while he talked to her. As I looked at the window, I could see the dark clouds gathering up, making the end of the afternoon murky. The storm was about to hit hard. I could see a few thin drops of rain starting to wet the glass.

"I can stay a little longer, no problem. I'm being well attended." He traded looks with me, biting his lip slightly. "Okay. I'll see you soon, Alana."

He gave me the phone, but Alana was already gone. I put it on the coffee table, getting up.

"I think I'll pour myself some wine. Do you want some?" I asked politely. "It's one of the fanciest ones; Hannibal gave us a bottle when we dined at his house a few days ago."

"Yes. Thank you." He waited for me to come back with the beverages, and I did my best not to spill anything, sitting on the couch beside him while I gave him the glass. "So you're acquainted with Dr. Lecter?"

"Oh yeah, he's an old friend of Alana's, sometimes he invites us to dinner. He cooks the best meals I've ever had in my entire life, so I don't exactly decline the invitations. And he's one of the most brilliant people I've ever met, so it's always interesting." I took a sip of the crimson liquid, moaning low in pleasure. Good wine. I preferred a good cup of hot oolong, but it was impossible not to appreciate the quality of that drink. 

A few glasses after and a lot of talks about dogs, fishing and other hobbies, he finally felt safe to bring back the topic. The rain had started really pouring, the now thicker drops hitting the windows loudly. Alana hadn't called again. It was nighttime now, the sky seeming to be darker than usual. I was low-key worried about her, but the conversation was too great to interrupt. She was a good driver. She would be just fine. 

"I've been seeing Hannibal Lecter in his office. Not exactly his patient, though. A courtesy of Jack Crawford to keep an eye on the coping of my brain functions." He sounded a bit bitter, drinking a few sips of his wine.

I could see he didn't like therapy. Must be hard with someone with a mind like his.

"You know, sometimes, Alana psychoanalyses me. Like, she doesn't even notice. It's cute, but sometimes it creeps me out." 

"She has a professional curiosity about me, but she's too polite and considerate to let it slip out. We've never even been alone in the same room together."

I held back a bitter comment, not wanting to talk shit about my cousin, but he saw it right through me. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to put you in a complicated position."

"I know. You're sweet." The word slipped through my tongue before I could contain it. Will blinked a few times, seeming surprised, and I felt my cheeks burn, starting to stutter. "I meant… I'm sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?"

"No, no. It's just… no one's ever called me that before." It was my time to get surprised. He didn't seem to be complimented much, and that just made me flabbergasted. I couldn't be the only one who saw how fantastic Will was.

"... Ah. Well, some people are just shy. I'm shy as hell, don't even know how I had the nerve to say that, it's probably the wine starting to kick in. Hope I really didn't make you uncomfortable, though. Don't need to be polite, it's okay to tell me."

"Actually, I'm curious to know what else you think of me. I sense it's not the only word you have to define me." He sounded bolder, and his eyes were on mine, giving me shivers down my spine. 

"Well… I think you're too exceptional to be defined with a few words. You're… Kind, brilliant… I see how seeing what you see, doing what you do, how it wrecks you sometimes, and you just keep doing it because you're saving lives. That's so selfless, Will. That's…" I was going to say more, but at that very moment, a loud thunder just made the house practically tremble, and I let out a real inelegant weep, coming closer to Will and holding his arm firmly, my fingers grabbing on the fabric of his shirt. He could've thought it was an artifice to get closer to him, but he could see how frightened I was, trembling like a cornered wild little beast. I hated thunders, fireworks, anything loud. Feeling ridiculous, I released his shirt, apologizing with embarrassment.

"It's okay. It's just noise. I'm here." He put some of my hair that had fallen to my face behind my ear with such a tenderness that I felt my stomach twitch, realizing suddenly how close we were. He was looking at me as if it was the first time he was actually seeing me. 

The phone rang again. Alana! I grabbed it from the coffee table, turning to face Will. He wasn't avoiding eye contact anymore, his pupils were dilated. My breathing was accelerated, and I knew it had little to do with the thunder.

"Lana, is everything okay?" I asked with genuine concern. "Are you close?"

"Ah, Y/n. I'm so sorry. I don't think I'll make it in time, I'm driving slow, the roads are slippery because of the storm and it's pretty foggy. I'll stop at a motel and spend the night, or at least wait for the storm to pass. I'm so furious with myself!"

"It's okay cuz, do what's safer for you. I'm sure Will will understand. I'll pass him the phone." I gave him the phone and he talked to Alana for a few minutes, but I wasn't listening. She'd ruined the moment unintentionally, and now he was probably going home. When would I have an opportunity like that again? 

"Okay. Don't worry. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Alana. Take care." He gave me the phone and I put it on the coffee table again. Before any of us could say anything, another thunder cracked the sky, and this time, Will held me so I wouldn't be afraid. The lights went out, and he held me against his chest protectively, making me smell his aftershave and some perfume. He smelled so good. For a moment, I just stood there in his arms, feeling his warmth, his breath, the steady beats of his heart. 

I moved away just a little to see his face, very close to mine, but it was so dark I could only see shadows. A lightning lit up the room and, just for a little moment, I could see his gorgeous eyes staring at me. After a soft touch of his thumb on my lips, he finally kissed me, so gentle, like I could break as fine china with any rougher move. I touched his neck with both my hands, playing with his hair, feeling how soft they were. He pulled me closer, his hands on my waist, and the kiss started to get deeper, voracious, as if we were hungry for each other. Maybe the wine was helping to raise the lust; all I know is that I've wanted that to happen for a long time. Will's kiss was everything I imagined it would be, but entirely different at the same time. All I could say was that he was great at it. His hands traveled through my body, and I grabbed his hair, pulling it slightly. That made a low growl echo through his chest, and I started to feel my body fervent as a bonfire.

I couldn't say much because I was breathless and I didn't want to stop what we were doing, so a single word left my lips as I kept my forehead on his.

"Stay."

Will bit his lip, kissing me again, and that was all the answer I needed.

xx 

Morning. Thin sunrays illuminated my bedroom floor through the curtains, waking me up. The storm was gone. I haven't had a nice night of sleep like that in ages. I looked at the other side of my bed and there was Will, sleeping heavily. It wasn't a dream, after all. Last night really happened. I smiled, staring at the roof with disbelief in my eyes.

I stared at him for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. Should I just let him sleep? He looked so heavenly, his hair was messy, his breathing steady, he seemed so less troubled than he usually was. I touched his hair lightly, caressing it with tenderness, and he started to move. I could see his neck, and a few hickies we marked on his albescent skin. That made me blush a little bit, and I laughed silently. 

He opened his eyes while I still touched his hair, but I didn't stop, and he didn't seem to want me to. We stared at each other in silence for a few moments, and he smiled, a different smile than the usual ones he gave me.

"Hi." He said, pulling me closer by my waist, stroking the skin under the sheets. I pecked him on the lips, then kissing his forehead, his cheek, his jawline. 

"Hey there. Good morning. I'm starving, are you having breakfast with me?"

"Actually, I gotta go home. Feed the dogs." He said, stroking my nude shoulder with his finger.

"Of course. Your dogs. I won't keep you then, poor babies must be so hungry." I kissed his cheek and was about to get up when he pulled me again, gently kissing my lips. I smiled, probably looking like an idiot. A joyful idiot. "I'll let you get dressed. I'll be in the kitchen."

I dressed up in my long and black robe, smiling at him before I left the room, going to the kitchen, where I started to make some french toasts. After a few minutes, I heard the front door open, and an exhausted Alana came in, her hair frizzy and her coat looking still a bit wet.

"Oh, Lana! Go change, you'll get a cold!" I stopped what I was doing, going to her and helping to take off her coat.

"That storm was a nightmare. I swear I won't ignore the warnings ever again. I'm so sorry, I had no idea it would get this bad, yesterday was one of those days where everything just goes wrong. Hope Will arrived well at home, did he seem disappointed or annoyed before he left? I was so inconvenient…"

I didn't even have time to answer, because Will opened my bedroom door, coming out while buttoning his shirt, suddenly realizing Alana was there.

"Oh." Alana said, looking so flabbergasted I almost laughed at her. Will rose his eyebrows at the sight of her, seeming a bit unsure of what to do or say. I wasn't planning for her to find out like this, it was a bit early, I wasn't expecting her to arrive so soon. "Hi, Will."

"Alana. Hi." He avoided looking at her, staring at me, and his eyes immediately softened. I smiled, he smiled back, and that was it, Alana was forgotten.

"Off you go to feed your children." I joked, biting my bottom lip. "I guess I'll see you later, then."

"Definitely." He simply said, kissing my forehead while caressing my hair, certainly a little embarrassed to kiss me in front of Alana. "See you later, Y/n. Bye, Alana."

"Bye, Will." I waved with a soft smile, and he grabbed his jacket, leaving the house.

My smile grew larger and I left my head fall back, squeaking low in commemoration. What a night! What a morning! I never thought I would thank a storm so much, let alone a bloody thunder.

Before Alana could say anything, I realized Will had left his glasses at the coffee table, and I picked it up in a hurry, bursting through the front door and calling him before he left, waving in front of the car.

"You forgot your glasses!" I said, and he opened the car windows, raising his hand to pick them.

I leaned against the car window, putting the glasses on him, and kissing his lips fiercely. He moaned in surprise, holding my face to deepen the kiss. After a moment, I pulled away, appreciating the view of his lips so reddish. 

"Go back inside, it's cold." He said with a cheeky smile, and before I could say he actually made me hotter, he took off with the car.

I went back inside, where Alana was waiting for me with her arms crossed. 

"What the hell did you do to Will Graham?" She asked, sounding severe, but a smile was trying to escape her lips "I mean, besides trying to suck his soul with your mouth a few moments ago."

"Oh, shut up!" I laughed, blushing violently. "You made that happen, you know? Thank you. Was that a set up or did the universe actually conspire in my favor?"

"I wish I'd planned this. That would mean I would've had a plan b and I wouldn't have stayed at that disgusting mote… Y/n, you're full of hickies, I can't believe you!"

"You're starting to sound like my mom, Lana. I'm gonna wear a turtleneck, don't worry, I don't want Beverly all over me like a bloodhound and Brian and Jimmy's witty comments today. In fact, keep it to yourself, okay? Will's discreet. I won't even tell Beverly, if she finds out, the whole bureau will know, hell, maybe even Freddie Lounds."

"I told you to let it go, Y/n. Will's very unstable right now. I… I only want what's best for you." She said with concern in her bright blue eyes. I sighed, walking to her and kissing her cheek with affection.

"You're a good cousin. But I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself, okay? Unless this isn't only about me, unless it concerns something else." I raised an eyebrow while staring at her, more confident that I've ever been. "Is there something you wanna tell me?"

She hesitated, clenching her jaw, but never spoke. 

I smiled, tapping her cheek very lightly in approval.

"I gotta get ready to work. Wanna grab lunch with me later?" I asked in a casual tone, a cynical smile on my face. She shrugged. "See you later then, cuz."

[somethinginthewayiam]

Request - Old Scar

a/n: @thereisa8ella​ thank you so much for your request. I really hope you like what I came up with. And I’m sure you will find that someone who will be by your side and be there for you!

Pairing: Henry x reader

Warnings: it’s pretty much in the request, also some angst and fluff

Words: 1265

It’s been years since it happened, a decade almost, and still it haunted you every year when the old scar in the back of your knee acted up. It was from a car accident that almost killed your mother. Although you had gotten help for your mental scars with years of therapy, the physical pain was harder to manage. You’ve had several surgeries over the years and you managed to shut down the constant pain. Now it only acted up when it's getting colder, so mostly in fall and winter.

This was your first fall with Henry as you started dating in summer. You stayed the weekend at his place as the well-known pain came back once again. You didn't have your meds with you, they were at home. You didn't think you would need them so soon.

You panicked inside as you planned on not telling Henry about it for as long as possible. This was not an easy conversation to have and you felt like you weren’t at the point with him to share such intimate and emotional stuff about yourself.

You two just have had lunch and you did the dishes as you felt the familiar tingling in your knee that always signalized the bigger pain to come a few hours later. You were somehow able to play over it and managed to go upstairs to "take a nap".

You walked into Henry’s bedroom and closed the door behind you. Your heart was racing and your breathing became heavy. Not because of the pain but of the panic and the helplessness you felt. You knew once the real pain hit, you wouldn’t be able to hide it from Henry. You contemplated with the thought of making up some excuse and going home, but you felt like that would make him even more suspicious and he would certainly not let you go without a real explanation. You just decided to actually take that nap and maybe you would wake up with a solution.

 You and Henry wanted to go to dinner in the evening. You got ready in the bathroom upstairs. You felt better after your nap and thought that maybe that that was it with the pain for today and you could actually make it through the rest of the weekend.

Henry was already done and waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. When you walked down you felt more than a tingle in your knee and froze immediately. It was just a few more steps before you would reach the ground floor, but right now they seemed undoable. You wished you could throw a stick or a ball for Henry to chase after it like Kal while you could wobble down the rest of the stairs.

You grinded your teeth while you took it step by step, literally. Just as you were at the last two stairs, a stronger pain shot through your knee. Your leg stiffened and you fell down the last stair, directly into Henry's arms.

“Whoa, hey, are you alright?”, he asked you, a bit rattled. “Yeah, uhm, just tripped over my own feet”, you waved it off, your voice shaky from the scare of almost falling on your face in front of Henry. “How silly of me”, you added. You weren’t able to look your boyfriend in the eyes. Of course, he noticed.

“Hey”, he said with a softer voice and his fingers found your chin, gently pushing your head up until you had to look him in the eyes. “Something’s up, I can see it your face”, he said and his thumb caressed your skin. You felt your eyes watering up. Henry frowned as he saw a tear slipping out of the corner of your eye and running down your cheek.

“You’re scaring me now, Y/N”, he said as he wiped the tear off your skin. “We have to go, we’re gonna miss our reservation”, you tried to change the subject and pulled your face from Henry’s hand. “Forget about the reservation. Let’s talk”, he said and grabbed your hand before you could step away from him.

When you turned your head, the look on his face…you really wanted to tell him everything. A sigh of defeat left your lunges and you walked around him towards the couch in the living room, limping as the pain in your knee made it hard for you to bend it properly. Henry followed you. He clearly noticed the limp, but he didn’t say anything.

He sat down next to you and immediately grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers with his.

And then you told him about your accident as a teen, about your therapy, multiple surgeries and the chronic pain you had ended up with. The day outside turned dark while you talked and it was already late when you finished. The dinner reservation long forgotten.

“That sounds horrible, darling. I’m so sorry you had to go through it”, Henry said. He held your hand the entire time. “Well, I had no choice but to work through it”, you shrugged your shoulders and wiped the tears off your face that had come and gone while you talked.

“I probably still have PTSD from shooting that Fallout helicopter scene. I know I make it sound like a joke, but it's real”, Henry told you and opened up to you too. “Also, I had knee surgery a few years back. It wasn’t even close to what you had, but I know about recovery and how hard it can be”, he told you further.

“I know”, you nodded your head. You had seen the photos and little videos on his Instagram. “And you’re right, it’s not the same. You’re fine now”, you said and tilted your head to the side. “Well, it healed pretty well, but it’s still a knee that’s been messed with. And I’m getting older, darling”, he joked, trying to lighten the mood a bit. A small smile appeared on your lips. You appreciated the try.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me anything”, Henry said and pressed your hand reassuringly. “It’s not something I can talk about that easily”, you shrugged your shoulders. “But I’m glad you told me now”, he said and lifted your hand up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it.

“Okay, let’s go”, he said and got up from the couch, wanting to pull you to your feet as well. You let it happen, but moaned when you put some weight on your bad knee.

“Henry, I really don’t feel like going out to eat anymore”, you said and pulled a face. Henry put his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest. He gave you a passionate kiss before he pulled back and spoke. “We’re gonna drive to your flat, get your meds and on our way back, we hit up the drive-through of McDonalds. What do you say?”, he asked.

You chuckled at his suggestion. “Sounds like a plan”, you nodded, still giggling. “Alright. I’m starving”, he said and just picked you up to carry you to his car. “Henry!”, you called out in surprise which turned into a fit of laughter.

Later, when you two ate your burgers in Henry’s car in the parking lot of McDonalds you looked over at him. The satisfied expression on his face as he finished his second cheeseburger and unwrapped burger number three at the same time made you smile. And at this moment, you knew that you loved this man.

[noocturnalchild]

A Ruined Movie Night

pairing : Modern!Ben Solo X Modern!Rey

Rated : Teens and up

Word count : 1K

No warnings. Just small silly writing...

This is the first piece I write for this fandom...

Hi I'm back... dunno XD

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Can I sit by your side, Ben?”

Rey tried to make it sound as casual as she could manage, and she regretted even asking. She could just take her seat casually by his side, like friends do, after all, didn’t she?

“I charge by the hour”

He seemed unbothered, face focused on the action scene that broke out suddenly and she took advantage of his moment of inattention to move carefully on his side of the sofa.

“Prick, move your ass.”

Ben swallowed as she sat beside him. She was wearing that sweater he liked so much. With the three buttons on the back, starting from the collar down her neck. They were so tempting, these little three buttons, like round little candies wrapped in mauve, begging to be popped.

Ben aggressively dumped a handful of kettle corn in his mouth.

“Easy, angry bear! We haven’t even made It to the first half of the movie. Think about your smaller forest raccoon friend.” She leaned to grab some popcorn from the box on his lap and he ducked, swiftly lifting the box out of her reach, hiding it behind the sofa arm.

“Raccoons are cocky thieves, they say.”

“Bullshit !” She shouted, “They are the most ado-“

“Hey! Look, you made me miss how they blow up that ship!” Ben’s scream was tainted with laugher. “Can’t you keep still for a moment? Jesus!”

“And they are cute! AND you are definitely the one ALWAYS fidgeting in your seat! If my sofa could talk, I’m sure it would fill salty complaints against your flat ass!”

“My flat what?!” Ben mumbled curses under his breath.

“I can HEAR you.”

“I know.” he smiled.

They fell into a comfortable silence again, before Ben put the popcorn box in her lap, casually not moving his hand off.

“Just a precaution, forest thief.”

She gave him a faux dirty side look, followed by a lopsided smile as they refocused on the space opera playing on the screen.

Warmth flooded Rey’s space and she relaxed, limbs limp and head empty, lids heavy with sleepy comfort. His hand and technically, half of his arm were still on her lap. Damn, the man was warmer than her central heating. She wondered if he was conscious, or if people noticed. If his other friends teased him about it, if his exes…she chastised the latter thought, and corrected her stance. She was leaning a bit too much into his shoulder, she noticed as a dull pain started to numb the nape of her neck.

Rey tried to crack her neck a number of times, wincing at the pain that didn’t seem to lessen, but to increase. She sighed in discomfort, touching the painful place to find it ice cold. Fuck her premature cervical arthrosis.

“You alright?” Ben seemed to watch her for a while now.

“Yeah, just a light neck pain, 8 hours at Plutt’s do that to you.”

“Doesn’t seem to be light, to me.”

“I told you it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not, look at your face, your wince looks like a that of middle age martyr on a burning stick!”

“History nerd. I don’t look like that.”

“A constipated raccoon then.”

“Ok, I have arthrosis.”

“What?”

“As I told you, dumbass.”

“Are you 80 or something?”

“You idiot, it has nothing to do-“

“I know, I know that wasn’t funny. Where does it hurt?” Ben paused the movie.

“The nape of my neck, mostly…”

“It worsens when it’s cold huh?”

“Yes, exactly, and today was just…”

“Yeah, let me check if we forgot one of the windows open or something.”

“Yeah fine.” She winced again at the loss of heat when he moved to check the windows.

When Ben came back, he found her literally crumpled on herself, arms wrapping around her and shivering.

“What? I leave you one second and you transform into a snail?”

“Fuck you Solo.”

“Closed the kitchen window. You’re welcome.” Ben flopped down back into the sofa beside her, making her bounce in her place.

“Slow, I’m sick.”

“It’s your neck that’s hurtin’ not your ass- You fucking finished the popcorn!” He exclaimed at the empty box lying neglectfully now at her feet and she shrugged, not sorry the slightest.

“I’d crack you neck good if it wasn’t already fucked.”

“You’re rude!”

“Let me finish the movie, you should too.”

A few minutes later …

“Feelin’ any better?” Ben paused the movie again.

What a ruined movie night, Rey thought as she shook her head, eyeing the empty second popcorn box. In the end, none of them was really focused on the events anymore.

“Nah, to be honest. I’m so done.” She sighed.

“You should try heat patches.” Ben talked seriously now, concern visible in his chocolate eyes.

“Too tired to go and try this now, just wanna zone out on that couch when the movie is over, eugh.”

She slumped further onto the cushions. her cheeks were so red, and her hair all tousled and messy and he found himself staring and starring, a bubble of tenderness swelling in his chest at the sight before him.

“Ok, we can try something else…” words fled his mouth before he could catch them.

“Liiiike?” She pinched her brows, confused.

Ben showed her his hand.

“I… don’t… understand” she said slowly. Ben sighed, a pretty blush raised to his cheeks. In the faint light coming from the Tv, he hoped it wasn’t that obvious.

“Can …can I put my hand on the nape of your neck?”

Rey was dumbstruck for a second or two, looking at him with round eyes and Ben felt so stupid, the stupidest he felt for a while, to say the truth.

“Please?”

No, now he felt like the dumbest creature in the galaxy.

What kind of earthly idiot would ask their roommate to use their hand as a heat patch? Ben wished they’ve already created that damn time machine so he could hide his shameless face in the past and disappear from history, once and for all.

But here she was, surprise flipping to impish amusement. In her eyes was a flame twinkling in the feeble light of their small living space.

“Ok” her response came against all odds, and he had to metaphorically reboot to register it.

“Ok” Rey said again, no hesitation in her voice whatsoever, eyes wide open. Was he mistaken somehow, or was that a smirk she was giving him now?

No, she must be as stupid as him, that’s the only explanation.

“Hey, Venus to Mars? Ben?”

“Oh, hello”

Idiot.

“You offered. I’m waiting” she said firmly, an exaggerated grimace as she turned slightly, offering the base of her neck to him, pointing at it impatiently.

“Of-of course”

Hesitantly, Ben reached out, but before he could take his time playing his stupid self, Rey took his hand and pressed his palm resolutely on her soring spot, instantly groaning in relief.

“Fuck Ben, that’s definitely one of your rarest good ideas” She flexed her neck again, hand always grasping his, keeping it firm against her skin, like to absorb the maximum heat.

He should have thanked heavens she kept her eyes closed; his face resembled more that of a clown now, he knew. He had to return to cool Ben, have a grip on his running thoughts. He coughed a little.

“Oh, It’s uncomfortable?” Rey opened her eyes finally, seeming to realize he was struggling with their current position. She released his hand.

“No, just…just turn around... we could just sit like we were and you can use my hand as a neck pillow as much as you want”

“ So generous when you feel like it” Rey teased and the sparkle in her eyes returned. Ben really struggled to pull himself off the searing feeling he was lost in all of a sudden as his chest expanded with unfamiliar bubbles.

“Huh, guess so” he replied vaguely, still pretty much distracted by the placement of his hand on her skin. Damn, he had to find conversation, and soon. Silence wasn’t an option now.

Fuck. Make it awkward Ben, that’s it.

Ah right, the movie. Ben reached for the remote and pressed resume.

The sound of spaceships explosions echoed in the tiny living room walls. Rey and Ben both jolted in their place. They didn’t even remember putting the movie on pause in the midst of that action, mind on other matters. They both burst into laughter when the first shock subsided and Rey leaned a little bit onto him. She was visibly feeling better now. Her muscles seemed relaxed and warm and she looked…genuinely happy. Ben wished the smile he saw then on her face to never fade away. He promised himself that it wouldn’t, as long as they were together.

“So…Ben…” Rey sweetly sang-song after some moments of silence. “Since today is the day I apparently entered in your good graces … remember that little favor I asked you about …the history exam?”

Fucks sake. Not that. Now. That was too good to be true.

“No, Rey. Happens that I don’t remember that.” Ben refrained from rolling his eyes. He actually remembered well her very specific request to get help from him, and no, not to study...but to cheat.

Rey sighed, dramatic.

“At least I tried.”

“You should rather try and study, for a change.” Ben said firmly, trying and successfully hiding his amusement behind a frown, one of his stern ones.

It was almost comical now; the number of times she tried to get him to help her cheat on an exam, begging, bribing, without results, but never backing down. Typically Rey, he thought with fondness.

“So how long are we staying like this, anyway?”

“Just a lil bit mooore. next time think twice before you offer” Rey whined.

“You little scrounger” Ben mumbled between his teeth.

“I heard you!”

“I know” and he smiled.

[crusherthedoctor]

Sonic Heroes: Sweet or Shite? - Part 1: SILVER

There are some heroes I like. And there are some heroes I don’t like. But why do I feel about them the way I do? That’s where this comes in.

This is a series in which I go into slightly more detail about my thoughts on the heroes in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, and why I think they either work well, or fall flat (or somewhere in-between). I’ll be giving my stance on their designs, their personalities, and what they had to show for themselves over the course of time. Two things to keep in mind:

1. These reviews will be focusing mainly on game portrayals. Though alternate media will occasionally be mentioned, it'll be for the sake of adding onto a point if a portrayal is similar enough, or to compare and contrast if a portrayal is different enough.

2. These are just my own personal thoughts. Whether you agree or disagree, feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions! I don’t bite. :>

Anyhow, for today’s installment, I decided to challenge myself by starting off with a complicated one. Born from the future, and never content to stay put in said future, it's the saviour whose debut came from the most unfortunate game... Silver the Hedgehog.

The Gist: Once upon a time, in the distant future, there was an idealistic young hedgehog named Silver, gifted with the power of telekinesis for reasons unknown. With his amazing potential, he was truly destined for a wonderful, prosperous li-just kidding, it was shit.

“All two of us.”

For as long as he knew, the world was forever plagued by Iblis, the terrible Flames of Disaster. Cities stood in ruin, flames stood high, the floor was lava... it was a bitter life to be certain, all thanks to Iblis. Not even defeating the titular creature did much good, since it would simply come back to be a shitty boss fight another day. What was he - and his friend, Blaze, a character we definitely never saw before and definitely didn't have a completely different backstory before - to do?

Trust the first person he sees, of course. Even if they look like they might be related to the same Flames of Disaster that he fights so constantly.

If he had eyelids, he'd be winking at the camera.

This mysterious fellow, Mephiles the Dark, informed Silver that if he were to wipe out Iblis for real, he would need to take a trip into the past, and eliminate the root of the problem... Sonic the Hedgehog? That was what Mephiles claimed, yes. What was his proof? There was no proof.

That was good enough for Silver.

Oh look, it's Fleetway Sonic.

After an elaborate series of events, which should sound exciting but really isn't because it was just Silver going “Iblis Trigger grrr” in varying tones of voice, he was finally able to corner the blue hedgehog... twice! And despite having less fighting know-how than the hero who saved the world plenty of times, he effortlessly came close to killing the blue hedgehog... twice!

This looks like a jobbing for...

Why twice? The first time was halted by Sonic's friend Amy Rose, who Silver had met beforehand after she mistook him for Sonic, an understandable mistake that even the keenest of eyes would be forgiven for making.

The second time was also interrupted, this time by Shadow the Hedgehog. There's only room for one controversial non-blue male hedgehog in this franchise, sonny boy. Actually, his reasons were more benevolent than that: he wanted to show Silver the truth about what was going on, by time travelling to the incident that gave birth to Iblis. Why was one able to to this, so long as more than one Chaos Emerald was present? No one knew.

That was good enough for Silver.

“I challenge you to a dumb-off.”

As it turned out, Iblis was one half of a sun god called Solaris, the other half being the aforementioned Mephiles. The Duke of Soleanna wanted to reunite with his late wife by harnessing Solaris' power, which succeeded from a certain point of view since he's dead now too. The resulting blunder split Solaris into two halves. One half was all brawn, with little capacity for intelligence. The other half was Iblis.

Understanding the error of his ways, and after making peace with Sonic, Silver went back to the future to try something different, which consisted of doing the same thing he always did. Luckily for him, the script decided it would work this time, albeit at the cost of Blaze sacrificing herself... Maybe? Sort of? It’s not entirely clear what happened to her, and it’s not like this was the last we ever saw of her.

~La laaaaaa, la laaaaaa, la laaaaaa, heading to a better game, la laaaaaa~

But ohhhhh nooooo, turns out THAT didn't solve anything either! In the present, Sonic was killed by Mephiles, after the latter realised he should probably do that already if he wanted to make any progress at all with his plan. This incident led to Iblis being brought into the present, and they fused to become the omnipotent Solaris once more. Such power... such divinity... such devastation...

Actually, he was really easy. The antlion from Underground Zone was harder.

Manchild robots - 1, god of time - 0.

With their super forms in tow, Silver, Shadow, and the revived Sonic joined forces to defeat Solaris, with Sonic in particular going the extra step in retconning Solaris out of existence entirely. Since time itself reset, meaning Iblis was no longer a memory, Silver's timeline was given a second chance. What was he to look forward to in this new, promising future?

Shit.

The Design: Let's take a closer look at Silver's appearance, shall we?

Or rather, a certain thing that's wrong with it.

He's holding up fifteen fingers.

Yes, you all know what I'm pointing to: the hairstyle. Let it be known that I'm very aware of the intention behind this design choice. It's supposed to be based on the Japanese Red Maple Leaf, which holds a lot of relevant symbolism for Silver's character. This is a fine idea in theory, and I can respect the intent and the creativity.

But here's the thing: If it looks like a ganja leaf, people are going to say it looks like a ganja leaf. I know some fans will gnash their teeth at me saying this, but the fact of the matter is that intentions and ideas, no matter how good they may be on paper, don't always translate well into the final product. Unleashed Secret Rings Black Knight Sonic '06 in general is certainly no stranger to showcasing examples of that, and Silver's hairstyle is no exception. There are ways to incorporate symbolism in a character’s design without making them look like meme bait in the process, and no amount of “umm ackshually” will change that, I'm afraid.

That said, there's another reason why I'm staying clean of Silver marijuana: it doesn't work for a hedgehog character. With the other hedgehogs, their hairstyles are simple and get the point across: Sonic's goes without saying, Shadow's is more angular to befit a slightly rougher hero, and Amy's is a cute bob cut of sorts. But Silver? Even without the ganja, you've still got the two tentacles making up the back of his head.

I'd rather not be reminded of hentai quills, thanks.

“I thought Crusher-san would like it :’(”

I do find it hilarious that they went through numerous designs for Silver, and this was what they chose to go with. Some of his prototype designs may have fared better had any of them been used instead... but we didn't end up with any of those ones. We ended up with this one, therefore I'm judging this one.

But don’t worry, it’s not all bad with Silver...

The Personality: As far as actual character goes, Silver's personality is as straightfoward as most characters in the series, yet it's no less interesting, because it took a while for it to fully evolve to what it currently is. The seeds of his character - a good-natured yet awkward and rather insecure kind of guy, who doesn't fully understand how the present time works - have always been there, but it was often downplayed in earlier titles due to him being hungry for Iblis Trigger blood... or being an arsehole for no reason.

Although to be fair, everyone in Rivals is an arsehole for no reason.

Eventually though, after the writers gave him a Snickers, these traits got more opportunity to shine. Mostly in side media admittedly, but it's been noted in the games as well. With no Iblis to angst over, he's proven to be a surprisingly bubbly chap, who just wants to know how you're all doing, fellow anthro kids. And whereas his naivety was previously used for intended tragedy to benefit the evil plan of a guy who thought taking the -istoph- out of Mephistopheles would make him inconspicuous, now it's been used for a bunch of low-key contexts that do a much better job at endearing him to the player.

Finally, something I can relate to.

Hell, he even seems to have learned from the Mephiles incident, as he was quick to make it clear to the next shadowy deep-voiced anthro with demonic eyes he met that he wasn't gonna fall for any of them fibs no more, ya hear?

“YouTube and Twitter don’t count.”

All in all, it works well enough, in my opinion. His personality does pave the way for some funny and wholesome moments, and since they’re no longer trying to build him up like he’s Shadow 2.0, he's nowhere near as much of a tool as he was before. So I guess you could say... I like it?

Does this mean I can say that I like the character as a whole then, design and '06-induced idiocy aside?

Well, not quite...

The Execution: This is where the complication part comes into play. We know now that I like his personality, not so much his design, but that's only the half of it. It would be more accurate to say that I like his personality... and dislike everything else.

Aside from that, obviously.

For starters, the creation process for his character and story was summed up with, in their own words, “Think Trunks from Dragon Ball Z”. So he comes off as rather lazy and uninspired. Now I'm not expecting my Sonic characters to be 100% unique, there's always going to be similarities to other franchises no matter what you do, even if subconsciously or by complete coincidence. Taking inspiration in itself is no big deal at all.

But... was that it? Copying a DBZ character to such a blatant extent? Was there no other thought put into it?

Naturally, this ties into an overarching problem: the franchise's mid-00's habit of trying way too hard to be the anthro Dragon Ball Z. Sonic has had DBZ influences since the early days, with the Chaos Emeralds and Super Sonic, but it didn't assimilate itself into every waking aspect of his universe. It was merely an additional flavor that added to the complete package, in the same way that a Death Star with a moustache didn't mean the franchise was suddenly Star Wars the Hedgehog.

But come the turn of the millenium, nearly every main title in the series ended with Super Sonic and/or Super Shadow saving the day, while everyone else either stood around being useless, or only helping in ways that no one actually cares about. Including the in-universe President apparently, since only Sonic and Shadow were featured in the photo on his desk.

Amy smiled. “I guess the rest of us can go fuck ourselves, huh?”

This reached its peak with - of course - Sonic '06, with Silver in particular being an obvious result of this then-ongoing trend. And yes, it would be unfair to use him as a scapegoat, considering it was already a problem long before he turned up. But moreso than even Shadow, it's an era that Silver is forever a relic of, for better or for worse.

But it doesn't stop there. Since Silver is considered a mainstay character, his gimmick of being from the future also creates problems of its own, because in order for him to make further appearances, he keeps turning up for little explained reason, and thus he suffers the Deadly Six problem of being shoved into places where he doesn't belong, for fanservice's own sake. Take Sonic Colours DS for example, where he went back in time JUST to check out Eggman's theme park... Okay...?

On one hand, I’d visit it too, since it's made by Eggman. On the other hand, I’d stay clear of it, since it's made by Eggman.

And when there IS a justification with more weight to it? It's just recycling the '06 routine of trying to avert his ruined future, which isn't much better. The cause may differ depending on the story, but if his future is a permanent shitehole for one reason or another, he might as well cut out the middle man and stay in the present altogether, since that's where his friends are anyway. But they seem intent on not doing that, despite the future schtick being a noose around his neck at this point.

In hindsight, maybe this was a hint to how the rest of the arc would turn out.

And then there's his dynamic with a certain purple cat... No, not Big. The other one.

“I’m here, by the way.”

Simply put: I don't like this dynamic. At all. Or rather, I don't like how they keep milking it. Blaze's backstory was radically changed to justify her presence in Silver's future, and it really shows, since she barely even shows up half the time, as if the developers themselves forgot she was in the game. But her backstory has since been restored to her original alternate dimension interpretation, so hanging around with the grey hedgehog is all good now, right?

To be brutally honest, I probably wouldn't care for this dynamic regardless. But I would be more willing to tolerate it, and I'd refrain from groaning every time they're seen together... if they weren't intent on playing it up so much in spite of '06 being wiped out, sometimes with a bit of commentary involving their thoughts and memories, which only succeeds at making things more confusing. If Blaze is around, Silver will be nearby, and if he's not at first, he will be soon enough. This franchise does have a problem in general with restricting who's allowed to interact with who (I personally believe Sonic Heroes may have led to this, or at least it accelerated it), but I'd argue it's at its most insufferable here, with Blaze's potential and her entire world taking a backseat to being the sidekick of Ganja Man.

And you might say “Well, it's part of the franchise now, so you'll just have to accept it”. To which I ask: Have you accepted Two Worlds? Have you accepted Solo Sonica? Have you accepted Sonic's friends not doing much as of late?

Yeah. That's what I thought. “It’s just how it is” doesn’t mean you can’t criticise it.

Meanwhile, Marine is lucky enough to get so much as a shout out.

So yeah, I have quite an extensive list of grievances involving poor Silver. But... very little of it has to do with him, right? They're all indirect problems that he just so happens to be linked to, as opposed to someone like Chris Thorndyke, who is genuinely a shit character through and through. This is more comparable to Tails being bitchy in Lost World, or Amy being manipulative in Chronicles, or Sonic being a smug dumbass in IDW, or Shadow not wearing a Hawaiian shirt in Boom. Frustrating, regrettable, but not really the character's own fault.

Yet even after all that, there's one last kick in the teeth... How do you fix all this? And how do you fix it when he's since gained a sizable fandom, many of whom like him for these very attributes? If you leave it as it is, you're stuck with this big, awkward mess that everyone pretends to ignore. If you try to do something about it, you'll get complaints about disrespecting the True Silver Spirit, and you’ll get questions about why you didn't create a new character instead... And if you did use a new character for the sake of a clean slate, THEN you'd get complaints about not using Silver.

It's a tough call to be sure, and it's such a shame because like I said, I do appreciate his personality, so I can't say he's bad outright. But with all this... clutter, I can only put him in the average category. So, in he goes.

Crusher Gives Silver a: Thumbs Sideways!

Well, I'm glad this one's out of the way. Putting my thoughts into words with Silver was harder than it should have been. I do slightly regret starting this series off on a rather downer note, but rest assured, it's a lot more positive from this point onwards, since while I have higher praise for some heroes more than others, the hero characters as a whole fare a lot better than the majority of villains not named Eggman.

I guess you could say that I hope to show why Sonic's friends aren't as shitty as the haters would suggest. ;)

[farfromsugafanfic]

Innocence

Genre: Mafia AU, Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader

Warnings: violence, guns/gun violence, cursing, violence against women, home invasion

Synopsis: When you end up getting caught in the crossfire, you’re brought to the local mafia leader who promises to rehabilitate you. Although, falling in love you certainly wasn’t part of the plan.

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"Shit, she's bleeding out," someone said from a few feet away.

"What? Who?"

"I don't know some random lady."

You moaned in pain as a pair of boots approached you and eventually, you could make out the fuzzy face of someone crouching over you. You couldn't tell where the pain was coming from, only that you felt it rippling through your body

"Fuck, Namjoon doesn't like when innocent people get hurt. We've gotta take her back with us."

"What? Isn't that just part of it? Innocent people get caught up in this shit all the time."

"Not the way Namjoon does it, come on, come grab her legs."

As one of the men looped his arms underneath your armpits, you felt one final jolt of pain that felt like it was ripping your body apart before everything went black.

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"Is she going to live?" one of the men who'd brought you back asked.

"Yes, barely," Namjoon said, his face firm and his voice steadier than normal. "You're sure it wasn't one of your bullets?"

"All of our bullets were accounted for, sir."

Namjoon nodded. "If I find out either of you are lying, you know the consequences?"

Both men nodded in understanding.

The doctor emerged from the room where you were. "She's waking up, sir. I'll leave the rest to you. Call me if she starts showing any concerning signs."

Namjoon nodded and waved the doctor off and entered your room.

If it weren't for the drab gray appearance of the room, it would've looked like you were in a normal hospital room. An IV in your arm and white sheets pulled up to your chin. Your eyes were still closed, but your heart monitor was beginning to slowly pick up from it's near flat line when you'd arrived.

He pulled a stool from the corner of the room and sat next to your watching as your chest moved slowly up and down. The doctor had extracted the bullet and cleaned the blood from your skin and clothes. Your bloody jeans and sweatshirt had been washed and were folded on a table in the corner of the room. Your hair was still dirty, but the blood washed from its tips.

You looked younger than when he'd first seen you and it only made his chest ache. He had no idea who you were or what you had been doing in that part of town, but you certainly didn't deserve the bullet in your shoulder. It had nearly missed your collarbone and the important blood vessels, but you'd still lost enough blood to be anemic.

Your eyelids began to flutter and Namjoon sat still as he met them.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You opened your eyes and were immediately met with a pair of unfamiliar brown ones.

"Hello," the man said. He sat with his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped together.

Other than the fact that you had no idea who the man was, the more concerning thing was that you had no idea where you were and you were seemingly alone with him. If you had to take a guess, the room almost seemed like a storage room of some sort; a cement floor and shelves lining all but two of the walls. They were mostly empty except for vague medical supplies.

"Where am I?" you asked, the beep of your heart monitor beginning to quicken.

"You're safe." The man sat up straighter, but his eyes never left you. "I'm Kim Namjoon. What's your name?"

You eyed him suspiciously. "Y/N."

"Just Y/N," he asked, his eyebrow arching.

"For now."

He chuckled before getting up and heading for a sink in the corner of the room. He filled a glass and walked back over to you with a pill in his hand.

"Take this," he said, placing the pill in your palm and holding the glass above you for when you were ready. You stared at him for a moment before glancing down at the pill. It looked normal and based upon the fact that this man was most likely the one responsible for saving your life, he would have no reason to kill you now, right? "It's an iron supplement. Cause you lost so much blood. You'll have to take them every day for a couple months."

You nodded and placed the pill in your mouth and swallowed it down. There was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you could trust Namjoon, at least that he wouldn't kill you.

"Now, I need you to tell me everything you remember from the night you were shot."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You were on your way home after work. You'd just graduated and started in an entry-level position at your dream company, but it left you exhausted and overworked. It was already nearly 11 and you knew you should've allowed your co-worker to drive you home, but you didn't know him well enough yet to trust him with where you lived.

You normally felt fairly safe walking through the city by yourself. You'd grown up there and you knew the areas to avoid, but you were tired and decided to take a short cut through a rougher neighborhood.

You took out your headphones and increased your pace so that you were walking faster than your normal pace, but wouldn't look too scared or suspicious.

For the first ten minutes, everything was normal, but as you neared the end of the neighborhood and the beginning of yours, you heard yelling. You looked around and couldn't find a source, so you kept walking and as you crossed an alleyway, a man ran into you, knocking off your feet.

You sat up, your vision a little blurry and your head still coming off its daze. As your vision came back, you stood up and braced yourself against the wall. That's when you looked up and the shot came. You couldn't see who shot you, if they meant to, or if it was just an accident. Heck, you couldn't even tell which direction the bullet came from.

You fell to your knees and eventually on your back. At first, the pain was unbearable, you felt the blood pouring out of your shoulder, although couldn't tell if it was from the back or front. But, eventually, the pain ceased and your eyelids began to feel heavy. It was soon after the man lifted you that a final burst of pain caused everything to go black.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"You don't know who shot you?" he asked. The darkness in his eyes as he asked the question caused the pain in your shoulder to flare.

You shook your head. "It happened too fast."

He nodded, before getting up and leaving the room without another word. You then only saw strangers as they came to give you meals or check your wound which still had a long way to heal.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Morning," Namjoon said, in the exact same cadence he said it every morning. He laid a tray over your lap which had a spinach and cheese omelet, toast, and a rotating menu of meats. Today was two slices of bacon. And, of course, on the side was a pair of iron supplements.

"Think you can eat it all today?" he asked. While you needed the nutrients, you had basically no appetite most of the time, but today, the toast was spread with a red jam it usually wasn't, which made you bite into it immediately. Raspberries. Your favorite. "Why don't you tell me about your job today?"

He pulled a chair to your bed and flipped it around and sat on it backward, allowing his arms to dangle off the top. The two of you had promised to tell each other something about each other each day. You knew it was a way to get information out of you and monitor your well being, but you didn't really mind. It started to become one of your favorite parts of the day.

"I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."

He stiffened at that. You had your suspicions that Namjoon's job was less than legal considering how you ended up meeting him. You just weren't sure exactly what it was he did. Was he some sort of drug lord? A gang member? A pimp? Your stomach turned at the possibilities.

"Okay," he said. "You just have to promise that you won't be scared of me."

"O-okay."

He nodded, although you knew he caught the shaking in your voice. "You first."

"I—uh—I work for a non-profit that benefits women who have been victims of violence," you said. "I help process all the donations and make sure all the finances match up. I was an accounting major in college, but I didn't really feel like doing other people's taxes for the rest of my life. I want to feel like I'm making some sort of difference. Even though I don't make as much money, I feel like it's worth it."

"You are," he said. "You are making a difference."

Silence filled the room for a few moments, but it wasn't awkward or tense, it was simply you and Namjoon in your own thoughts. His eyes locked on you and your eyes unconsciously noticed the dimples on his cheeks that appeared and disappeared as he talked.

"All right, you promised," you said. "Your turn."

Namjoon's posture straightened and he cleared his throat. "Oh, well, I'm sort of the leader of the local mafia. I mean, it's not quite as nefarious as it seems. It's mostly just money laundering and stuff like that."

"But, you still kill people?"

"I never have. My men do only when necessary."

You gulped and pulled your eyes away from him. "Then, why did you save me?"

"Because I don't like innocent people getting hurt."

"How did this happen? How did you become the leader? You--you just don't seem like the type."

"My family," he said. "They kind of started this whole thing. I went to college and everything, but ultimately, I didn't know how to be anything else."

"You know you could always leave it behind. You're the leader. You could end all of this."

"It's not that easy. If I end it, I immediately become a target or someone would start it back up. And, let's just say, you don't want this kind of operation falling into the wrong hands. Many wouldn't have batted an eye at you getting shot."

"Don't think you're the hero here. Whether or not it was your men who shot me, whether or not you chose to save me, I still got shot because of you."

Namjoon's jaw stiffened and he crossed his arms over his chest. "You're right, I'm sorry," he said. "Although, it's not quite as easy to just leave."

"What did you study in college?"

"Huh?" He paused. "Literature and Writing."

You smiled. "Why don't you read to me?" you asked. "I never really got to take any literature classes in college and I missed them. I still have longer to recover. You could read to me whenever you wanted to."

"I'd like that," Namjoon said, his dimples appearing and lighting up his face.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You laid back with your head and neck pressing back against the pillow as you closed your eyes as Namjoon's voiced lulled you asleep. You knew it wasn't just his voice and the way his voice took on a smooth rhythm as he read or the way his voice grew hoarse eventually. The doctor had slowly been weaning you off of the painkillers, while the pain wasn't as intense as before, it still exhausted you.

He was reading from Jane Eyre a book you certainly hadn't expected Namjoon to choose. The gothic element was enough to send shivers down your spine, but not keep you from falling asleep.

You were halfway through the book now and you knew you would never finish. Your condition was improving and you barely needed pain medication anymore. The doctor came once a day and today he had told you that he thought you'd be able to go back to your own apartment and life the next day.

Namjoon stopped reading and it jolted you out of your half-slumber.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I thought you were asleep."

You opened your eyes and shook your head, although your eyelids were only half open crescent moons and the way you were forcing them open made Namjoon chuckle.

"You're tired, anyway," he said. He closed the book and stood up from his chair. "Goodnight. Sleep well."

You watched as Namjoon walked towards the door and felt something in your chest. "Wait," you said. "This is the last night and we haven't finished the story."

"Y/N, we still have half the book left. There's no way--"

"Just stay with me tonight," you said. "I'll have to go back to being in my apartment all alone tomorrow and I don't know. I've enjoyed having you around."

"Y/N--" Namjoon said. "You're just--this isn't right--"

Namjoon's eyes met yours for a second before he ripped them away and walked out of the room with the book still in hand.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"She--she asked me to stay with her," Namjoon said. He sat in his desk chair with his feet resting up on the desk, something he only did when he was thinking deeply.

"Is that a bad thing?" his right-hand man, Yoongi asked. "You like her, right?"

"Yes, but Yoongi, she hasn't been out of that room for weeks. She's only seen me and the doctor with only a couple of exceptions. It's just Stockholm Syndrome."

"We didn't kidnap her though. She could've left if she wanted."

"Yes, Yoongi, but why would she? She would've had to pay for medical care elsewhere. Even if we didn't mean to, we trapped her here. She's hardly seen anyone but me. Of course, she'll become attached."

"It's not like you were torturing her, Joon. You were helping her and I see the way you look at her too. Everyone does."

"If I wanted to, I can't give her the life she deserves. She's doing good things, Yoongi. She's innocent and I want her to stay that way." Yoongi nodded in his head in understanding, but there lingered a small glint of hesitation in his eyes. "And, even if I could, keeping her around her is dangerous. If our rivals found out about her, she'd become a target."

Namjoon sighed and stood up from his desk and shuffled through his papers. "Make sure she gets home safely tomorrow. Keep a couple of men in the area for the next week or so just in case it was a targeted attack."

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"He's not coming?" you asked the man who introduced himself as Yoongi.

He shook his head and gave you a sympathetic look. "But, he did want me to give you this."

Yoongi reached into his bag and pulled out the copy of Jane Eyre Namjoon had read to you. It was an old copy--at least fifty years old--and he had a bookmark stuck halfway through. You opened to the marked page and found his handwriting on the bookmark. He wrote in black ink. It was neat, although smudged around the edges because he'd closed the book on it when the ink was still wet.

It's your turn to read now Namjoon x

Your eyes focused down on the 'x'. It certainly didn't mean anything, it was just his way of signing off, but it left you satisfied as you walked out of the door escorted by Yoongi and a few other men.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

3 months later

"Y/N!" one of your coworkers said, rushing into your office. "You're never going to believe this."

"What?" you asked looking up from your work.

"Some guy just came in here. He was so handsome and wearing a fancy suit and he wrote us a thirty thousand dollar check." She held up the check so you could see it.

"No way," you said, grabbing the check from her hands. You held it up to the light and placed it under the black light you had to verify authentic donations. You had a weird feeling in your gut and you glanced down at the signature on the check. You couldn't make out a particular name, but a shiver ran down your spine. "What was his name?"

"Oh, well, I don't think he told us his real name. But, you know the rich types, always wanting to protect their identities."

"Y/C/N, what. was. his. name?"

"Mr. Rochester."

6 months later

"We're a bit short his month, Y/N," your boss said. "You know I hate to deduct from wages. It wasn't much this month."

You nodded. It was the reality of working for a non-profit. Sometimes you got paid and sometimes you didn't, but you knew the money was going to people more deserving of yourself. You waited until you were on your way home to open the envelope and see just how much you were getting that month. When your eyes met the total, you slowly looked down before continuing onto your apartment.

You pushed the key into the lock wondering just how you were going to scrounge up enough money for next month's rent. You could always sell something or do some odd jobs on the weekends. You opened your door and stepped inside feeling your foot slip forward, causing you to nearly trip, your only savior is your right hand was still holding on to the doorknob.

You got your footing and bent down to find a small envelope that was slid under your door. Your name was printed neatly on it. Normally, this would freak you out, but you noticed the same black ink from the bookmark in the copy of Jane Eyre.

I know money has been tight. Here's rent for the next couple months. Keep doing what's important x Mr. Rochester

Tears came to your eyes and your bit your index finger as you read the note over and over again. He was absolutely insufferable and part of you wanted to rip up the check, but instead, you slipped it out of the envelope and into your purse.

9 months later

It was a quiet Saturday night when you heard the knock at your door. It was nearly 11 pm and you weren't expecting anyone. You were already in your pajamas and you had picked up Jane Eyre for the first time in a few months. It wasn't that you found it particularly hard to read, but every time you picked it up, you were reminded of him. The man you had no idea why you still thought about. The man who occasionally came into your life and then left just as quickly.

The knock came again and louder this time. This time panic rushed down your spine and you froze. Was it best to approach the door and give away the fact you weren't asleep? Or was it best to just act like you'd already done to bed and hope they go away?

You stayed put, but clutched your cellphone close to you. Another knock never came, but instead the rustling of the doorknob and the clicking of the lock. It was when you heard it successfully unlock that you ran towards the kitchen. You grabbed your largest kitchen knife and crouched in the corner.

You were in the middle of dialing emergency services when you were yanked up by your hair and your cellphone went clattering to the floor.

"Ah, yes, you are her," the man said.

You didn't recognize the man in front of you. He was taller than you and held your hair in a tightening grip that caused you to whimper.

"You're plainer than I expected. He's head over heels for you, so I figured you must be beautiful. But, I guess, you must have better things to offer." He smirked, but unlike the smirks Namjoon sometimes let slip, this one terrified you.

"Who are you?" you asked.

"It doesn't matter to you baby girl," he said. "All you need to know is that you're going to die."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Namjoon!" Yoongi said, running into the room, breathless. His face was red and his eyes were creased, almost in fear. It was uncommon for Yoongi to get so worked up, let alone run. He spoke when he finally caught his breath, "Min-sung," he said. "Min-sung was seen near her apartment."

Min-sung had once been a trusted man, but he began getting greedy. Wanting to take all the jobs. Skimming money off the top. He felt betrayed when Namjoon finally let him go. You'd think he'd be grateful, most other bosses would've had him killed for how much money he stole, but no. Min-sung's mind was only focused on the drugs he took and the money he needed to buy them.

Namjoon's eyes widened. He pulled open his desk drawer, nearly pulling the entire drawer out of it's setting. He pulled out a handgun and fed in the clip. It had not once been fired. Namjoon had never had the urge nor the need to kill, until that very moment.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"I'm going to play with you," he said. "To let him know you suffered. His precious little secret on the south side of the city."

"Please, I don't know who you're talking about. The walls are thin. I'm sure the neighbors are worried by now." Both were lies, but you hoped it came off convincing enough. He'd let go of your hair, but now he straddled you.

"Tell me, how do you want to die?"

"I don't want to die."

He laughed. "Of course not, sweetheart. But, you're going to. I'm being generous and giving you a choice. I could take that knife you had when I came in and stab you or I could kill you with my hands on your throat. Or, I could hold your head down in the bathtub and watch as you writhe around--"

Tears pushed out of your eyes and you felt blood sprout from your bottom lip as you dug into it. You squirmed underneath the man trying to wriggle yourself free or one of your limbs free.

"You know, I haven't really given much thought to dying," you said. You slowly slipped your foot upwards until you had enough leverage to bring your knee into his crotch.

He doubled over in enough pain for you to free yourself. You ran back towards the kitchen to grab the knife from earlier. You wrapped your palm around the hilt, but he was behind you before you could turn around. With all your might, you forced the knife backward, but it was at an awkward angle. Yet, you still heard him wince.

The knife dropped from your hand and the man turned you around, forcing your back against the counter. You noticed a long cut on his arm and felt a small sense of pride. At least if he was going to kill you, he would have a scar.

His hands wrapped around your neck and his thumbs sat right on top of your windpipe. You made eye contact with him as he pushed down and you made a small croaking sound as your eyes grew wider and your toes pointed in reaction to the lack of air.

"Stop...please...help...Namjoon..."

You managed only a few words before you ran out of air to manage any sounds. Your vision was beginning to blur and you knew in a few seconds you'd black out and it'd be the end.

The last few moments were so loud you couldn't make out what happened. Yelling, shuffling, a slam of a door, a loud pop. Then, it was all over.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Y/N, Y/N, please come back to me."

You opened your eyes to see Namjoon crouched over you. Blood stained his shirt and even parts of his skin, but his hand was clean as it caressed your cheek softly.

"Thank God," he said. "I thought I was too late. The doctor is on his way and so are my men to clean up everything. We'll pay off the neighbors to keep things quiet if we have to. You don't need to worry."

"I'm not worried, Namjoon." Your voice was hoarse and still not all the way there. You felt the bruises forming on your neck and your entire body ached. You turned you head to see your attacker laying in a pool of blood a few feet away.

"Hey, hey, don't look at that. Come on."

"I'm not a child."

"That doesn't mean you need to see a dead guy on your kitchen floor."

He lifted you up and carried you into your bedroom. After setting you down, he went back out to the living area and grabbed the copy of Jane Eyre.

"You didn't get very far."

"I've been busy."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

1 year later

Namjoon is almost done setting up everything in his new office when he hears a soft knock at the door. A delivery person carrying a large bouquet of flowers strides in and sets the vase on his desk and left without a word.

Curious, Namjoon walked from the corner of the room where he had been shelving books and to the center of the room. He plucked the card from among the flower heads.

I finally found time to finish the book. Congrats on the new job. Let's meet soon. Love, Jane

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Seven and a Half of ??)

Hey! I finished it! I thought it was going to be about as long as the last update, but my brain decided it needed to be really long, so I hope you guys don’t mind. To my tag list peeps, things might be a bit weird for awhile. Apparently, Tumblr wasn’t notifying most of you about updates, so if you get tagged twice, I’m simply trying to make this website work the way it’s supposed to.

As always, the link to Part 1 is down below!

The Lovelies List: @simpingforsatan @naimena @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia (If you wanna be tagged when I update this fic, just ask down below in a comment or send me a message!)

Part One

Satan/F!Mc

Word Count: 4,423

Triggers: None that I can think of

“Barbatos! I was hoping I’d run into you!” Mc almost shouted, hurrying across the main hall.

Mc saw a flash of surprise until what she assumed was his usual unruffled demeanor returned, “Mc, good morning.”

“Good morning! I was wondering if there’s a library I can visit. I have some topics I’d like to research.”

“Ah, well, it is still rather early. I believe the Royal Library is still closed at this time,” Mc wilted a bit until he continued, “But I believe the Young Master would be alright with you browsing his personal collection. There will be restrictions with that, especially since I haven’t asked his permission, but I think you might be able to use it,” he smiled, completely polite.

“You think? I wouldn’t want to impose, but that would be amazing,” the prospect of being allowed access to the Prince of the Devildom’s personal collection was making her very excited.

“Hai. Just let me finish a couple things and we can go visit it.”

“Okay! Thank you very much!” Mc gushed before she could stop herself. Barbatos smiled, and inclined his head before walking away. She found the nearest chair, prepared to wait as long as necessary.

Turning inward, she took stock of what she was going to be looking for so she didn’t get distracted, when a voice boomed behind her, “Mc! What are you doing up at this hour?”

“Lord Diavolo,” Mc said, standing and bowing a bit.

“I already told you, there’s no need for that,” Diavolo laughed, waving his hands hastily, a bit flustered, “You can also call me Diavolo. You’re a guest in my house after all.”

“If you would prefer. I don’t want to be rude.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Diavolo laughed.

“My lord, I think I’m going to head-” a rather deep voice called out before abruptly stopping, causing both Mc and Diavolo to look behind Diavolo. A tall demon with black hair fading to white at the tips stood with a look of utter shock on his face, halfway through throwing a coat over his shoulders. Mc quickly noted his ensemble was very sophisticated, a red vest and tie complimenting the near black of the rest of his clothes and matching fur on the collar. The next thing, which made her gasp, was the fact his eyes were mostly black with some red. Though she’d seen some strange eye colors since coming to the Devildom, but his were the only black ones.

“Ah, Lucifer. This is my guest-”

“Mc,” the demon, Lucifer, breathed, relaxing his arms, coat touching the floor.

“Ah, yes. I’m sure that is pretty easy to extrapolate,” Lucifer’s eyes snapped to Diavolo and a short, unspoken conversation passed between them, before Lucifer turned his attention back to her, walking forward, an assured smile on his face, “I do not believe we have been introduced. I am Lucifer, Avatar of Pride,” and he extended his hand.

“I’m Mc,” she extended her hand to shake his, but he grabbed it, bringing it to his lips. Up close she could see how tired he looked even through the act.

smiling uncomfortably and extracting her hand as delicately as she could, “Ah, yes,” she said, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Of course. I would assume it hasn’t been very charitable,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly at her removing her hand, his tone going flat.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” Mc countered, “Simeon doesn’t mind you too much.”

“Ah. You are acquainted with Simeon?”

“Of course. He did help raise me afterall.”

“I see. I was unaware he had taken on a younger angel besides Luke.”

“Well, when you won’t call, or respond to his texts, he can’t tell you much,” she answered, her voice overly sweet.

He grunted in response, “Well, I am going home to have breakfast with my brothers, by your leave,” he said, purposefully turning from Mc. She narrowed her eyes, her brain brimming with comebacks for being snubbed. She fought with herself not to throw them at him as Diavolo answered.

“Of course Lucifer. I’m sorry to keep you so late.” 

Lucifer bowed slightly to Diavolo, and looked over at Mc, “Nice to meet you. It’s good for you to help Diavolo help unite the realms.”

“You too. It’s nice to finally meet the man everyone seems so caught up on.”

Lucifer seemed a bit confused by her comment, but inclined his head to her, and then started walking away.

“So Mc, we got interrupted. What are you doing up at this time?”

“Oh, I was waiting for Barbatos. I want to do some research, and he mentioned you might be alright with me making use of your personal library until the Royal Library opens up today. Of course, if you’re not okay with that, I completely understand. I was just hoping to start it as soon as possible.”

Diavolo nodded as she spoke, “That should be alright. Of course, there are sections of it even Lucifer isn’t allowed in, so your access would be somewhat restricted, but I could do that for my Guest of Honor.”

“Thank you very much. I really appreciate that,” Mc answered, a lot more restrained than she had with Barbatos.

“Shall we?”

Mc looked around in awe, knowing many of the books that sat on these shelves she’d never seen before, “It’s amazing.”

“Ah, it’s quite modest, especially compared to… other demon’s I know.”

“That doesn’t make it any less amazing,” Mc assured, smiling over her shoulder at him.

“Thank you. So, you can take anything from… here…. To here,” he said, walking in front of 5 bookcases that reached to the ceiling.

“Is it alright if I fly to reach the top, or would you rather I find a ladder?” Mc asked.

“As long as it won’t leave a large mess of papers to clean up later, it should be fine. You should know, some demons do have access to my library. You won’t be assured your privacy.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Mc acknowledged, “So I know, who else has access?”

“Well, myself. Barbatos. Lucifer. Sa-... One of his younger brothers. I believe that’s it.”

“Ah, good to know. Thank you,” Mc said, filing the slip up away in her brain.

“So, what topic did you want to research? I can help point you in the right direction,” Diavolo offered.

“Oh, I was thinking about some general Devildom history. There’s so little of it in the Celestial Realm, and I think it would help me acclimatize to my new environment better.”

“You’re that interested in our history?” Diavolo seemed surprised but pleased.

“Of course,” Mc smiled.

“Ah, well, I don’t have a ton in this section, but I could grab you some from one of the other sections. Hold on,” and Diavolo took off in search of the books in question. He returned a bit later with three rather thick tomes, “You can read these, but they can’t leave this room.”

“Understood. Thank you,” Mc tried to take the books from Diavolo but almost dropped them because they were so heavy.

Diavolo chuckled, taking the top two and moving them to a nearby desk, “Breakfast is a couple hours still. I’m assuming you’re going to stay here and read until then. I’ll have someone come and fetch you at that point.”

“Thank you again!” Mc said, sitting down and cracking the cover of the first book. When she heard the door shut, she turned to the glossary, “S…. S…. This book is huge… Ah, S… Ha! Found you.”

“I hear you were up rather early this morning Mc,” Michael said at breakfast.

“I couldn’t sleep, and Diavolo was kind enough to let me use his personal library,” Mc explained, “You know how it is when inspiration strikes.”

The three angels sat at breakfast. Diavolo had left earlier in the meal, something important taking him away.

“You’re already planning your next show?” Luke asked, a bit surprised.

“Well, it’s more like I remembered an old show idea I had, and I think I finally have the experience to finally make it happen,” Mc answered cryptically.

“What idea’s that?” Michael asked.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Mc winked, “Though that does remind me, I’m going to be in and out of the castle for the next little bit.”

“Are you sure that’s the safest thing for you to do alone?” Michael asked, concerned.

“I’ll be fine. I’m going to go get some street clothes to help me blend in and I’m not going to do anything that might get me in trouble. Many of the demons around here are also very loyal to Diavolo and won’t search out problems with one of his personal guests. If worse comes to worse, I am about as powerful or more powerful than a lot of the lower level demons in this area.”

“You seem to have given this a lot of thought,” Luke said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Of course I did. I started thinking about this once Michael said I could come down here. I need to go where…”

“Go where inspiration strikes, yes I know. I just don’t really like the idea of my little sister wandering around the Devildom by herself.”

“Well, do you want to tail me for a day or two? See how great your little sister is at disguise?” When Luke only gave her a wary look, Mc continued, “Tell you want. You can come with me as I pick out some clothes. Then, you give me a ten minute head start to hide myself in the crowd. If you find me, I won’t go out by myself while we’re here. But, if you can’t find me by… 8 o’clock tonight, and I make it back to the castle safely, I obviously know how to disguise myself well enough to be safe, and I don’t need a chaperone for this trip.”

Luke narrowed his eyes, “I don’t think that’s quite how it works…”

Mc leaned back in her chair, “Then how does it work? If I am able to blend in enough to hide from my own brother, I think I deserve some level of autonomy.”

“We need to set some kind of boundaries so you don’t just go running off in some random direction.”

Mc inclined her head, “Fair enough. How about anywhere from Purgatory Hall to Rad and the castle to Rad? That gives a clear triangle that I could be in, and Majolish is within that area.”

“You also can’t spend all day in one place,” Luke added, the idea taking root in his mind.

“Fine. I can also use anything I buy at Majolish to disguise myself then,” Mc stipulated, not that Luke’s addition was anything she was worried about.

“You’ve got a deal,” Luke grinned, extending his hand across the table.

Mc shook his hand, “Well, I’m ready to go if you are.”

“Let me grab a coat,” Luke said, leaving the room.

“He has reason to be worried,” Michael said once Luke had left the room, “I don’t remember that being part of our agreement for you to come down here.”

“It wasn’t, but I simply agreed to have you two accompany me. As it is, I do understand there can be a lot of danger down here. Not all demons are happy with angels visiting, and I haven’t been here in a long time. However, I would like to prove myself to you two. If it makes you feel better, if Luke fails today, you can take his place tomorrow and try to find me.”

Michael considered her words, before nodding to himself, “I accept your challenge.”

“Sounds good. Now, I’m going to meet Luke,” Mc tried to walk away, but Michael grabbed her wrist before she could, “Do you need something else?”

“As a matter of fact… I heard you met Lucifer this morning,” Michael’s voice was soft.

“Oh, yeah that. I did,” Mc said, voice flat.

“What… How…”

“You should really see if Diavolo will reintroduce you guys,” Mc smiled.

“You think?”

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Mc answered. Luke entered the room again, throwing his coat on, “We’re off. See you sometime after 8 tonight.”

“Oh you think so?” Luke challenged, as they walked away.

“Oh, I know so. It’s-” Mc’s voice cut off as the door swung shut.

“... Ask Diavolo huh?”

Mc watched Luke walk past for the umpteenth time and grinned. It was almost 8, and she had managed to evade him the entire day. He had been extremely assured of his success at Majolish, but she had watched his confidence dwindle with the time. She knew it would be easy to trick him, but she hadn’t expected it to be as easy as he had made it. 

She was about to get up to leave, when Luke walked in through the door. He was still in his angel regalia, and all the demon’s looked up and conversation stopped. Having seen this reaction multiple times now, Mc followed suit. She worked to keep her expression neutral as his eyes swept over the café, looking for her. She was again grateful to the cashier who had talked her into buying the eye color changing potion. It had saved her on multiple occasions. Not seeing her, Luke walked up to the counter and ordered some pastry, and then walked out sighing.

Mc pulled out her DDD, and checked the time, ‘7:59. Well, might as well go meet him.’ She grabbed her shopping bag and walked out the door. The street was less busy than she’d seen it all day, so picking her brother out of the crowd wasn’t a problem. She started walking towards him at the same pace he was going until the alarm on her phone notified her it was 8. She started running towards him, and then wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, “That was fun big brother, but it’s 8 o’clock and I’m feeling tired. Let’s go back.”

Luke jumped, and then groaned, “I couldn’t find you the whole day, but you knew where I was?”

“Not the whole day, but I saw which way you went after you left the cafe,” Mc grinned, falling into step beside him.

“Wait! You were in that café?”

“Yup. You looked straight at me. You ordered a scone with bitter berry jam right?”

Luke sighed, “Fine. I admit it. You’re way too good at this. I lose.”

Mc was still excited from her landslide victory against Luke, but she was already planning on how to beat Michael. Part of the reason Luke had been so easy to evade was that he stuck out like a sore thumb, choosing to be unabashedly an angel among demons. Michael was a different story though. She knew he was actually very good at blending into his surroundings when he wanted to from the work he did in the human realm. She figured he would take the same approach, and disguise himself as a demon, so she would have to watch her behavior the whole time, which would be more difficult than it had been with Luke. He was also significantly more powerful than Luke, so he probably had some disguise magics hidden away.

“Ah, you two are back,” Michael was waiting outside the double doors with Diavolo  when they walked up, “I don’t need to ask to find out how it went.”

“I admit, I underestimated Mc,” Luke said, sighing slightly again.

“I hope you’re ready to face me tomorrow Mc.”

“Me too.”

Michael inclined his head, and then gestured to Diavolo, “I believe Prince Diavolo wanted to speak with you about something Mc, so I’m going to go with Luke to the dining hall,” and with that the other two angels left them.

“I love this idea Mc. It’s so fun!”

“Oh, thank you. I’m just trying to gain some independence down here.”

“I will admit, I do worry about what some of my less… dutiful subjects might do, but I want to thank you for encouraging Michael to talk to me, so I would like to see if I can be of any assistance in aiding you.”

“You’d do that for me?” Mc was taken aback.

“Mc, I’ve been trying to get new stories about Lucifer in the Celestial Realm for far too long. Michael and I spent the day exchanging stories back and forth and it was the most enjoyable day I’ve had in a long time. You gave me that. I also want you to feel comfortable here, so if that’s the way to do it, I’m willing to help you. I’m also sure he’s trying to pick Luke’s brain to get a grasp on what you might do. I’m just helping level the playing field”

“Well, if you can help, I’m not going to say no,” Mc said which made Diavolo grin.

Mc hadn’t caught one trace of Michael all day. She knew what outfit he had decided to wear, and that he had darkened his hair and had it in the normal long braid down his back, but it hadn’t helped at all. Not that she had been looking very hard. Diavolo’s insights on how his subjects reacted to different stimuli had been extremely useful, and she had adjusted her behavior accordingly. She had also been pleased to see the potion had given her a different eye color today and she had worn a different outfit. Overall, she felt like she had done a really good job blending in, but she still had an hour to go.

“Excuse me. Is this seat taken?”

Mc brought herself out of her thoughts, and, putting on a face of complete disinterest looked up at who was addressing her. Diavolo had told her demons really only spoke to each other if it was someone they knew really well, it was someone they wanted to get to know better, someone they wanted to fight, or if they had to. Only someone who knew they had a higher status than the addressor was able to ignore them or it was seen as extremely rude and was more than enough grounds to pick a fight. 

“Nah. Ya can sit if ya wan’,” Mc answered, pitching her voice down and taking on an accent. She wasn’t sure, but she thought this might be Michael since she hadn’t been addressed all day. The face was familiar enough it could’ve been him, but he had obviously either used glamour magic to disguise himself, or he was a makeup genius. The outfit was right, though it hid his build very well, and so was the height. 

The stranger took the seat across from her, and pulled out a book. Mc scrolled through Devilgram, but made sure her ringtone was on silent. If he had plotted with Luke to call her when he thought he had found her, he had another thing coming. Diavolo had thought of it, along with changing her contact names and turning off her DDD’s location. As time passed, Mc started wondering how long she had to wait until it was socially acceptable to get up. They had been sitting in silence for 30 minutes, and she was getting more and more anxious as time passed, her nervous habits threatening to come out. After another 15, she decided it had probably been enough time. She made her DDD vibrate a couple times, before getting up.

“Leaving so soon?” the stranger asked, and Mc almost yelped. She was barely able to keep her face under control. It was Michael’s voice and he was grinning.

“My frien’ jus asked meh tah meet ‘em a’ Hell’s Kitchen.”

“You sure about that?” Michael asked, eyes glittering.

Mc was saved from answering, as a hush fell over the crowd, and the whispering started.

“Are you sure you want to keep looking Lucifer? You know how he is; if he doesn’t want to be found he won’t be found,” a voice whined.

“Did I say I wanted to stop looking?” the edge in Lucifer’s voice was intense.

Mc turned to see an attractive strawberry blonde demon pouting at Lucifer. The black haired demon did not seem impressed by the display.

“Lucifer,” Michael breathed, eyes wide, “And Asmodeus.”

“Why don’t we just ask this cafe if anyone’s seen him?” Asmodeus asked, and then got up on a table, “Yoohoo! Everyone! It’s me Asmo! Yeah, thank you for your attention. I need your help!”

“Asmodeus…” Lucifer warned, voice low.

“My brother Satan’s gone missing and we need to find him apparently. Has anyone seen him?”

“Oh, oh, oh!” A demon called from the back of the restaurant, “I haven’t seen him, but Asmo you look divine today!”

“Oh, you flatter me darling,” Asmo flirted back, winking. Lucifer looked like he was about to combust.

“I saw him the other day in the Royal Gallery at an art opening,” another demon called out.

“Oh, thank you, but he went missing after that. Anyone else?... No? Oh well,” and with that Asmo got off the table, “I think it’s just a lost cause until he comes back, Lucifer.”

“Why can’t I take any of you anywhere?” Lucifer sighed, the tired look Mc had seen the day before coming back.

Demon’s were now getting out of their seats and were starting to crowd the two demons. Mc used the moment to slip away from Michael, moving with the throng of bodies and disappearing out the door. She thanked her lucky stars that there was a healthy crowd in the streets, melting into the masses. She didn’t know if Michael was following her, but she made her way to Hell’s Kitchen anyways. If there was any doubt in his mind, maybe this could save her.

She wandered in and found a similar situation of what she had just left, though it was now a tall orange haired male being surrounded. She looked around and saw a demon sitting all by himself. She pushed through to him and sat across from him.

He gave her a confused but sleepy look, “What are you doing?”

“Someone’s tailing me, and I’m trying to lose them. Can you pretend to be my friend for like… 8 more minutes?”

The demon’s look switched to mischievous, “What’s in it for me?”

“I… I don’t have any Grimm on me, but I’ll do basically anything. Just, please, help me.”

“It’s dangerous to ask a demon for help without setting a price. You do know that right?”

“Yes, I do. I just… What do you want?”

“Hmmm… You’re an angel right?” Mc blinked, completely caught off guard as the demon laughed, “Your disguise is pretty good you know. I just happen to be better,” his purple eyes danced in merriment.

“I… Yes.”

“Good girl. Hmm... How about you and your angel friends come to the House of Lamentation for dinner sometime?”

“I… Wait, that’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Sure. Deal.”

“Perfect. Hand me your DDD and I’ll give you my contact information,” he gestured lazily, and she handed it over. She watched him warily the whole time. Why would he want her to come over with Luke and Michael for dinner?

“Hey Belphie, it’s time to go,” a deep voice sounded from her left, “No one’s seen him.”

“Oh Beel, right on time. I believe it’s been 8 minutes, so you’re out of danger now right?”

Mc looked at the time and released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. 8 o’clock right on the money, “Yes. Thank you…”

“Belphegor,” he leaned in close and whispered to her, “Now, don’t forget your promise, Mc.”

She looked up in shock to see his smug grin and he and the tall demon, Beelzebub probably walked out. 

Mc was expecting to have to fight for her victory when she got back to the castle, but oddly enough, Michael told everyone he had gotten close, but she had ultimately beat him. He seemed shaken, and though she had her suspicions as to why, she wasn't going to argue with his decision. She had secretly thanked Diavolo for his help to which he had just laughed and told her to go enjoy herself but to make sure to be careful.

Mc grinned, the darkness of the Devildom making her feel free. She had rarely been able to be truly alone in the Celestial Realm and now she had no one watching her every move or trying to control her actions. Luke had stayed in the castle to catch up with Barbados and Michael and Diavolo had become fast friends. She was a bit concerned about the promise she had made to Belphegor, but her sense of freedom far outweighed any worry she had.

"Not that he did anything. And how did he know my name anyways?" she muttered.

She had spent the whole day visiting all the places she remembered as a child, and some places she had only heard about from Simeon and Luke. She had only hovered in the outside garden of RAD, feeling very self conscious. She found she remembered the streets really well, which surprised her. She hadn't had to ask for directions once. It probably helped that she had spent 5he last two days roaming the streets.

She could not enact her grand plan. Step one, find Satan. She hadn't allowed herself to think about it in the moment, but the fact he was missing put a large wrench in her plan. He could be anywhere by now.

A scent caught her nose. It was a familiar scent though she could have sworn she had never smelt it before. It was heavy even in the chill air, a deep heady scent that tickled at something in the back of her head. Looking around, she saw a park nearby and a flowerbed of what looked to be Feather flowers though they were not the right colors. Plus, Feather flowers had to have the sun to bloom and they did not smell as exquisite. What were these then, and why were they featured in a flower bed?

The creaking of a park bench pulled her from her thoughts. She thought she was alone, so the sound came as a shock. The figure on the bench was a bit far away, but she could tell one thing and that was that they had blonde hair. She made her way slowly over to the figure, her heart pounding and hands shaking a bit. Was it? Could it be…

“Satan?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Eight

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 11

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, ptsd, fluff

W/c: 2.4 k 

A/n: Wow, its been a week! I dont know about you but August is something else honestly! I hope you guys are enjoying the read and as always if you have any feedback, or youd just like to chat, hit me up! Thank you @cutie1365​ for your help with this one! 

It had been a whole week since you woke up in Shuri’s lab, but the fifteen minutes it took her to perform the final analysis felt like it droned on forever.

In the days that passed Wanda had come by your room the most. She had changed, but then again, so had you. Her eyes bare a worry that never seemed to go away, no matter how much you reassured her. It wasn't her fault. But even still, every time she saw you she tiptoed, afraid she’d set you off at any moment. You were used to this coming from Steve, but a tiny part of you broke at the thought of Wanda fearing you. She had always accepted you, no questions asked… 

Nat would usually come for dinner, giving you the full breakdown of the day. Since waking up and remembering everything it was hard to trust the people around you, but she made it a little easier. She assured you that Sam wasn't angry, and that he had recovered with very minor injuries. You were thankful she didn't bring up your other opponent. 

Then there was the Captain himself. You haven't really seen Steve much, but you heard him through the walls of your room. He visited his friend every day. He never actually went into his room, however. He would only stand outside and apologize over and over for something you could never make out.

On the fourth day, he spoke to you. You were half asleep, it was probably sometime past midnight when you heard his voice. 

“No! Please NO!,” His voice woke you from your sleepy daze. “Y/n, please. I’m so sorry. I didn't know. I- I'm so sorry, I never…” The sound of your name on his lips caused a shiver to rush down your spine. His words came out breathy as he choked on a sob. It was clear to you he was having a nightmare. There was a part of you, albeit small, that wanted nothing more than to rush to him, and sooth his fears. But you didn't. You just listened while he screamed for you, unmoving. That's what he deserves, you thought, but you didn't believe it. Not fully. 

“Okay, lets go over this again. What's your name?” Shuri rolled across the room on her chair scribbling something down on a tablet. You rolled your eyes, this had to be the fifth time she had asked you. 

“Y/n L/n. Born in Philadelphia.  Joined S.H.I.E.L.D after my family died in a fire. Moved to Jersey to be closer to work, met Agent Beson, got engaged, and then The Winter Soldier killed him… Did I miss anything?” You rattled off. Shuri only nodded, writing something down you couldn't see. 

“You developed a super soldier serum that could absorb the powers of your opponent.” Shuri ‘reminded’ you. 

“Right, how could I forget what got me into this shit show in the first place.” You scoffed. 

“And you remember how you made it?” She asked. 

“Yes… No… Maybe? I think with some time I could recreate it, but I’d need to run a few tests, get the ingredients at the corner store. The serum was created for me and me alone. In case it got into the wrong hands, I didn't want anyone else to be able to use it.” You shuttered at the memory burned into your mind. The wet cement room Hydra had locked you in for days, torturing you for answers you wouldn't dare give. “It’s flawed, obviously. It was never ready to be used. We were trying something new. I was never the best candidate for the serum, as it amplifies what's already within and in my case, was pretty fucked up already… Not to mention the nasty side effects.” 

“And what would those be?” The small scientist spoke, now on the other side of the room pulling up a hologram of Dr. Erskine’s original serum from World War II.

“Psychosis mostly. But there was a chance it would enhance trauma or cause permanent brain damage… You know, the good stuff.” You chuckled but Shuri didn't look quite as enthused. “Look, I didn't say the serum was perfect. It was my first draft.”

“Hydra doesn't care about perfection. They want it, and they're going to do anything to get it.” Steve voiced from the doorway you only now realized he was standing in.

 “You look like you're feeling better.” He said. 

“Well, thank you Captain.” You saluted him in a mocking way that only made his jaw clench, “Here’s hoping you can say the same for your friend.” Your words dripping with sarcasm. 

Steve's eyes went dark at that. He looked like he was going to rip you in half. Of course he couldn't, at least not with your homemade cocktail coursing through your veins.

“She’s not ready.” Steve barked refusing to make eye contact with you. You tried to play it cool, but if the Captain was the reason for you staying locked up in this lab for another day you were going to throw a full blown temper tantrum. 

“She’s passed all psych evaluations, and seems to have control over her emotions.” Shuri aspoke matter of factly. 

Damn right. 

“I don't care about some evaluation. If I say she’s not ready-” That was it. It was, after all, pretty easy for you to lose your temper these days. 

“You can't just keep me here!” You shouted, causing Steve's head to snap back in your direction. 

“I can and I will. Until we are sure you're not a threat.” He seethed.

“Well, she’s not. And you're not in charge here. I am.” Shuri matched his tone, causing a small smirk to play on your lips. What a badass. 

Steve only blinked at the small girl, unsure of what to say next. So she continued.

“She’ll be back in her room on the compound by the end of the day. If you don't like that, by all means leave. Wasn't that yours and Bucky’s plan after all?” Shuri snapped. This new information made you stiff. They were leaving? Both of them? You weren't sure why this made you feel nauseous, but it did. 

“Yeah, like he’d ever leave without her.” He pointed an accusatory finger at you, causing you to imagine how satisfactory it would be to snap it off and shove it right up his tight-

“If you stay, you listen to me. You're not my captain here, Steve. Show me some respect.” Her voice was powerful. You weren't sure how a sixteen year old could hold herself with confidence, lord knows you were a mess at her age, but nevertheless, she did. And she did it with an unmatched grace. 

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it, lost for words. Shuri held her stare, unwavering as she looked up at the 6 foot man. Seriously, what a badass. 

“If she loses control, it's on you.” He all but shouted while Shuri only chuckled causing a rage to wash over Steves face. 

“Actually, I think if she loses it again, it will be lost on you.” She looked at you while you nodded giggly. Steve shuttered at the idea, making you smile from ear to ear. With that, he stormed out of the lap. The two of you stared at each other before bursting out laughing. 

“Did you see his face!? He looked like he was going to shit his pants!” You cackled, holding your stomach for some sort of relief. 

“I don't think he’s used to being told no. Big baby.” She cooed, laughing to herself. “To be fair, you almost killed his best friend, so if I was on your bad side I might be worried too.” That shut you down. Steve was one thing, if he feared you, so be it. But you weren't dangerous. Okay, you had squashed Barnes like the bug he was, but that wasn't here nor there. 

You signed. They had every right to fear you. You feared yourself at times. But the reappearing of your memories seemed to ease you, for now at least. Everything was back on the table. You knew who you were and you could finally see the whole picture. 

“Okay, but seriously Y/n. We have to talk about a few things before I release you.” Shuri spoke, pulling her seat back up beside you. You attended to her newly serious tone and looked down at her from the bed. “Hydras after you. They need that serum, for who knows what. We have to know, can it be cloned while in your bloodstream? Is there anywhere else but that lab you blew up where they could get the blueprints to recreate it?” She asked. 

“Nope and nope.” You popped the ‘P’ as you spoke. “Hydra can’t reacreat it without me, and that will never happen again, so they're screwed. I didn't tell anyone what I was working with, not even Tommy.” Your voice fell flat at the mention of his name. 

“That's good. Steve’s going to want to hold a team meeting to brief everyone on what's going on and Natasha’s been chomping at the bit to get you back to training. You think you're up for that?” You only nodded, reassuring her. 

“Just get me the fuck out of this damn lab. No offense but if I have to look at your face for another second I’m going to find out about that psychosis side effect.” Shuri giggled at that. 

“You're free to go.” She gestured towards the door. Your eyes went wide, but she didn't have to tell you twice. In seconds you rushed out of the door and down the hallway towards your room. 

As you passed through the kitchen, you noticed Nat sitting at the island eating breakfast. You waved and her face fell. Peaking around the corner you noticed why. 

There, sitting on the large couch was, Bucky. 

Fuck. 

Bucky noticed Nat’s stiffness and turned to see what had her so nervous. That's when his eyes landed on you. All colour washed away from his face, leaving him pale. A ghost of who he once was. Before he could get up, you were gone, sprinting down the hallway. When you thought about seeing Bucky again you imagined feeling a million emotions. Murderous rage being one of them but this, this was not one of them.

When you were finally in your bedroom with the door locked, you allowed yourself to sob. Tears streamed down your face as relief washed over your body. You despised yourself for feeling anything but disgust for the man who had slaughtered any chance at happiness in your life. But, here you were, crying into your pillow like a heart broken teeager, because the man you loved wasn't dead. You wished with every fiber of yourself that he had been gunned down on that bridge, but there he sat, in the living room, steel blue eyes fixated on yours, heart still very much beating. 

The loud knocking from the other side of your door was what ripped you back into reality and out of your all consuming thoughts. You closed your eyes, and tried to keep your sniffling quiet, hoping they would just leave. When another three knocks echoed through the room, you groaned, grabbing a pillow from your bed and rocketing through the air.

“I’m busy.” You shouted to the insufferable knocking. 

“No you're not.” Sam’s voice shouted back. A smile pulled at the corner of your mouth at his mocking tone. After a moment of battling with yourself, you slugged off the bed and opened the door. 

Sam smiled down at you, a small pink cut traced itself over the top of his brow down to just below his eye. By now it was almost healed, but you could tell it once was deep and raw.

“Did I do that?” You winced, gesturing to your face where his gash resided. 

“Nothing I can't handle. Can I come in?” He asked.

You nodded, opening the door a little more and allowing him access. He looked around your room. What once was bare, now had boxes and bags filled with items that were important to you. 

“So, how ya’ feelin’?” He asked, taking a seat on the reading chair next to your coffee table. You followed him, tentatively as you sat on the edge of your bed. You hadn't spoken directly to Sam in over a week, you weren't really sure if he still trusted you like before. Hell, you wouldn't blame him if he didnt. 

“Nothing I can't handle.” You mirrored his response, causing him to chuckle softly. 

“Guess were both pretty tough, huh?” He spoke, just over a deep whisper. You nodded your head once in response, feeling the awkward tension to hover in the room before it became hard to breathe. 

“Sam, I-” You stated, but your voice broke. 

“Hey, hey,” He started, crossing the room and in a second he was at your side, kneeling just below you, he took your hands in him. There was no hesitation, no fear in his eyes. He reassured you before placing a soft kiss on the back of your palm. “Dont. Just don't. It’s not your fault. I have every sense to blame that little witch, but it's not her fault either. I’m just glad you're okay, Y/n” He said.

You hadn't noticed the small tear that had escaped until Sam wiped it away, his warm skin seering into yours. 

“Besides, I kicked your ass like, twenty to one. I’d say I still win this match.” That caused a small laugh to bubble out of your chest. 

“Thank you, Sam.” he nodded, getting up and sitting next to you on the bed. 

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Starving.”

“Lets go get some dinner.” He took your hand in his and stood, but you didn't budge. He looked back and raised a brow in question. 

“I think I’m just going to eat in here… If that's okay?” You signed. Feeling like the old broken Y/n who was weak and pathetic. 

“Great idea. I’ll bring you something. We can just hangout. I know for a fact Nat’s been dying to see you, care if she joins us?” He asked, eyes soft and full of understanding. 

“Only if I can pick the movie we watch.” You said, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. 

“Done deal.”

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A/n: Thank you for reading! Please, like if you like and  reblog if you want to fule my ego! Honestly, thank your for just reading it... I feel like, yeah its lousy, but its really nice to write again. Sending you guys all some postive vibes this week <3

@kalesrebellion​

@projectcampbell​

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 5.1}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend… and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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There was a major difference in the way Robin approached this summer break in contrast to the last years. The dread that usually overcame her even before she stepped onto the train back to London was still very much present and accompanied by a deep sadness at the prospect of not being able to have coffee with Snape every night, but she didn’t feel quite as desperate about the length of the break. This year, she actually had something to look forward to.

It had come as a surprise on her last evening at school, when she had been talking to Snape about summer plans, that he had handed her a letter that had originally been addressed to him. At first Robin had been understandably confused why he’d given it to her, but after a moment of explanation, things had started to make sense. It was an invitation to a one-day conference in London, taking place two weeks into the holidays. According to him, it was an ‘insignificant’ event with a series of lectures and discussions about anything related to the overall subject of potion making. While the invitation was meant for Snape himself, he had made it rather clear that he had no interest in attending and thus wanted to give Robin the opportunity to listen to some of the lectures if she cared to go in his place. Obviously she’d been absolutely delighted by the possibility, and assured him that she would do her very best to lay low and make a good impression for once. He’d told her where to be on which day, then spoken a brief warning about some people he couldn’t stand but who likely would be attending, and at last they had changed the topic, talking about the book Robin had just finished that day.

On the train ride home the next day however, she had wondered if he really didn’t want to attend or if he merely wanted to give her the chance to go in his place, but seeing as she couldn’t answer that question, she had let it go after a while of pondering. But she did take pride in the fact that he obviously believed she would understand whatever would be talked about at this conference, and even more that he trusted her to not embarrass him in his absence. She would definitely try to learn as much as possible from this event, and be noticed as little as possible in return.

The two weeks until the anticipated day passed by slowly, but with something to look forward to, it wasn’t quite as dreadful as wishing and waiting for the end of the holidays already. Robin did actually end up telling her parents about the conference a few days before it would take place, and they seemed rather delighted about the fact that Robin was indulging in the same kind of academic endeavours they themselves thrived in so much. To be honest, Robin had merely told them because spending the entire day in London meant that she would be home very late if she took the train after the last lecture would be over, and she didn’t want them to worry. They however seemed fairly unbothered by the fact that their daughter would be out and about in the middle of the night, and Robin gave up on trying to get them to take interest in her person as much as they did in her 'career’. Thus they merely talked about proper behavior at an event like this, how to ask questions without being rude or make suggestions without sounding braggy, and Robin did in fact appreciate the advice for once. Who knew… maybe it applied to the wizarding world just as much as to the muggle world.

When the day finally arrived, Robin was nervous and delighted at once. Seeing as she would indeed have to stick to public transportation like the muggle she was pretending to be during the holidays, she opted for a more mundane choice of outfit too. Still, she wanted to make a good impression, and thus she chose to wear dressier clothes for once, which turned out more of a challenge than anticipated, due to an underwhelming amount of options. Eventually she ended up with a black, high waisted tube skirt that ended a little higher than a hand’s width above her knees, and an olive green blouse with long bishop sleeves which she tugged into the skirt. Paired with some dressy flats and her usual leather backpack, Robin deemed it fancy enough. Her mom also gave her approval, calling it 'appropriate enough’ for someone Robin’s age, and thus she was off to London even before it had properly started to dawn.

Finding the place where the conference would take place was actually easier than she had expected, especially if one considered that she had to rely on an ordinary, non-magical street map of London to find the correct building. This rule forbidding underage magic outside of Hogwarts was bullshit, in her eyes, but she also figured that not everyone was being as responsible with their magic as she was… so it maybe did make sense for some people. After finding the right building however, the next obstacle was being allowed in.

“Can I help you?” The first person she tried to simply walk past, once inside the entrance hall, already stepped into her path.

“I have an invitation for the conference.” Robin replied as self-assuredly as she could, portraying nothing but calmness on the outside while yet on the inside she felt rather overwhelmed by the whole thing. Too many people, too many strangers especially, and in addition to that a place she wasn’t familiar with and a situation nobody believed she belonged into. Great…

“May I see it, please?” At least the man was polite, even if a bit too condescending for Robin’s liking. Without protesting though, she grabbed the invitation card out of her backpack and held it under his nose with an indifferent expression.

“I apologise for the inconvenience, Miss. The conference room is on the third floor. Just follow the signs and you should find it with ease.” He said after but a brief glimpse at the paper, and stepped out of Robin’s way while pointing her to the staircase.

It really was beyond easy to find the correct room by following the signs, but before she even could set foot into it, she was held up yet again by a man sitting at a table in front of the room.

“Good morning.” Robin actually addressed him first, with a polite smile, as she came to stand in front of the table. Somehow she had rather hoped that she could just sneak into this like she had done in some lectures at university in the past years… but obviously that wasn’t the case.

“How can I help you, Missy?” The older man raised his eyebrows at her with a small smile, and Robin found herself conflicted by his disrespectful way of addressing her in contrast to his kind face.

“I am here for the conference.” She stated calmly though, and handed the invite to the man in front of her.

His eyebrows rose even higher as he read over the card, before he finally turned back to Robin with a surprised face. “What does a lass like you have to do with Severus Snape? You surely know that this is his invite, don’t you?”

“Of course I am aware of that.” She bit down the snarl and kept her tone polite and neutral like the adult she was trying to be here. “I’m his… friend. He couldn’t attend and therefore sent me in his place.” There was no need to tell him that Snape had called them an old bunch of idiots and hadn’t wanted to come here because it would bore him out of his mind, was there? No, certainly not.

“From what’s said about him, he doesn’t have a lot of friends I believe.” The man mused, but handed the paper back to Robin with a smile nonetheless. “Well, he still seems to have a decent taste in people if he sent you here today, huh? What’s your name? For the list of attendees, and the name tag.”

Robin almost would’ve snorted at the statement… Snape and good with people? Best joke she’d heard in weeks. But at least she wasn’t questioned any more than that. She would’ve hated to elaborate on her 'friendship’ with her professor. One sided as it was, especially…

“Robin Mitchell.” She answered with a small smile, and a moment later accepted the sticky tag he was holding out to her. Without questioning why it only read her last name, she stuck it onto her blouse a little below her collar bone, and then was granted entrance to the room at last.

If she’d had any hope to just not be noticed before, it definitely was gone by now. The room was crowded with wizards of all shapes and sizes, mostly of the older generations, and Robin spotted exactly two females other than herself. Age and gender… first things that drew quite a few eyes to her. But then there also was the small but very obvious fact that she was the only one not wearing robes. Hell, even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t have sat in the train for two hours looking like a kid dressed up for Halloween and not panic. Well… she could’ve changed once she got here. Too late for that idea now.

Many eyes followed her indeed as she walked across the room to sit down as far to the back as possible. At least there were many people scattered around the room, chatting and laughing currently; surely they would just forget that Robin was here at some point. Hopefully, if they didn’t ignore her, these people would actually treat her with some professionalism at least, even if she looked like she could be their grandchild. Well, at least she got why Snape had called them a bunch of old idiots now.

After her initial discomfort, the situation improved (fairly little at first) once the actual event began. Robin tried to somewhat keep up with the smalltalk the man next to her was trying to make, but he ended up spending more time staring at her mostly bare legs than listening to what she said in return, so she eventually just gave up on trying to converse in the first place. The lectures however were well worth the trouble, as Robin discovered, and she took plenty of notes about anything that seemed interested or useful to remember. In fact, she did understand most of what was said and even recognized a lot of it from her extensive readings. Events like this generally seemed to function more by knowledge than by experience, and Robin had theoretical knowledge in the plenty. Thus she actually had a pretty good time for the majority of the lectures, as it allowed her to completely ignore the fact that other people were present in the same room.

Only when they took a break at noon, she was approached by some people who probably only wanted to be kind and involve her in the conversation, which however served to make Robin feel rather nervous in the beginning. They asked her about her young age, of course, and she tried to politely convince them that intelligence wasn’t a matter of age, and neither was passion for a subject. At least the lunch break was spent with conversation this way, rather than awkward silence, and Robin actually found herself enjoying the polite and professional conversations they engaged in soon. Throughout the talking she got involved in however, she tried to share as little information about herself and her knowledge about potions as possible, for she feared that she would only embarrass herself anyway if she said something wrong. She was here to listen, not to talk.

That however changed drastically in the afternoon. After one particularly long lecture about medical potions and strategies of use, the following discussion was a furnace of opinions and arguments. Robin merely listened to the many arguments and counterarguments in silence, just as she’d been doing for the past few hours, and kept her own thoughts to herself. That worked rather well for her, right until the man who had held the lecture in the first place, Kenneth Crowe, said something undeniably wrong and everybody in the room seemed to agree with him. Instantly the desire to at least ask about it jumped to the very front of Robin’s mind, but she bit the insides of her cheeks to stay quiet. It wasn’t her place to say anything at all, and definitely not to correct a well renowned professional in the field. But it was such an obvious mistake… such a stupid but important little detail. And leaving it in the wrong might actually result in very much real consequences for people, especially in the medical field. 

Crowe had introduced a new kind of healing potion in his lecture, a revolutionary invention of his that might cure yet untreatable curses… and Robin believed to know that it wouldn’t work. At least not in the way he was suggesting. Bloody hell, she just wanted to tell them, but she was also desperately scared to say something stupid. It wasn’t her place to speak up, it wasn’t her goddamn place to doubt these people!!! But the knowledge that she might be right sufficed to torture her mind more with every second she didn’t at least voice the doubt. At last Robin’s mind won over her churning stomach and racing heart. She raised her hand, was called on almost immediately, and after one deep and shaky breath, she started explaining to a room full of professionals why they were wrong about the subject.

“I… would like to ask a question.” She started, hoping that her criticism wouldn’t come off as such if she phrased it this way. “You, uh… You stated that the petals of the Varilion flower are a key ingredient, and so is the essence of Canticor, yes?”

“Yes. And?” Crowe looked down at Robin from his pedestal with a humored, but undeniably deriding smile. He probably thought that she didn’t even understand a word of what they were currently dealing with… oh, how wrong he was. A bit of the reluctance to possibly insult this man fell off Robin’s mind at the stupid look on his face alone, and she decided to continue more directly.

“I just wanted to be sure I didn’t misunderstand you.” She replied with a polite little smile that was born out of her newly arising wish to wipe his own smile off his stupid face. “Because as far as I’m aware, Varilion –as a plant in the family of nocturnal vinca breeds– would very likely cancel out the effects of the Canticor which are needed here. Without the Canticor however, the entire product would likely be unstable and thus lacking the functionality you have described.”

“That’s ridiculous, I tested the potion myself and it was perfectly stable. You shouldn’t make assumptions like that without prior knowledge of the subject, child. This potion will be perfectly stable.” He almost snapped back, and a few people frowned at his admittedly harsh reply. Robin didn’t let it impress her at all; she was just getting started. Somehow, now that the dam was broken, she really didn’t mind speaking up all that much anymore.

“Well, it is stable if the potion is made in a common testing quantity as opposed to an average production size. If one would try to make a sufficient amount of it in order to be able to give it to a human being with the desired healing result, one would run into severe problems, seeing as the Varilion and the Canticor start canceling each other out at an amount that is way smaller than what would be needed indeed. Thus it is not possible to use this formula to even make enough of the potion for one single person. Which, in return, renders the potion quite useless.” People stared at Robin with all kinds of mixed and shocked expressions as she spoke, some whispering and turning pages, but she used the opportunity of having the word already to lean just a bit further out of what she had thought to be her place. “However, seeing as the core problem is merely the radically dominating nature of the vinca breed in the Varilion, I would suggest replacing it with Plangentine. As another nocturnal flower with almost the same properties, as far as I’m aware, it might make a functional replacement even in larger quantities. But that, of course, is only my humble opinion. Thank you.”

With that she shut her mouth, leaned back in her chair, and observed how about thirty jaws dropped. Geez, it was hard not to smirk. This really shouldn’t be so much fun… What she had done wasn’t exactly considered polite, even if she had phrased it politely. Her parents would be disappointed. Snape however would likely be proud. Robin decided to focus on the latter.

For the long moment that followed, nobody said anything at all, and people merely seemed to think about what Robin had suggested. When the discussion was finally continued however, every single person who contributed something spoke in favor of Robin’s opinion or at least seemed to accept it as correct. Thank goodness… she would’ve hated to feel so smug and then be proven wrong. Thus, seeing as she had done her part in voicing her doubt and wiping the stupid smile off the man’s face, Robin went back to simply listening to what was said, and meanwhile noted down the discussed healing potion in her journal, with her own suggested change. She’d have to ask Snape about it when she went back to school. Maybe they could even test it, for fun.

The rest of the afternoon flew by just as the morning had, but with significantly more glances at Robin. One time she was even directly asked for her opinion on something, which freaked her out quite a bit on the inside at least, but she still was able to give a reply everyone seemed to be accepting as a contribution as valuable as any other person’s. Maybe she had finally gotten herself out of the grandchild box in their minds after all.

After the last lecture was over, fairly late in the evening, the entire group of attendees was asked to come to the podium to pose for a photograph. At first, Robin had respectfully stepped aside to let the real attendees take the stage, but upon multiple people insisting that she had played an important role in this meeting, she had found herself among the group as well. Right in the front. Definitely not as subtle as she’d planned to be today, but seeing as she was a good head shorter than almost everyone else, it did actually make sense to put her up front. Once all pictures were taken, Robin planned to head home, but she was quickly (and more or less against her will) pulled into a discussion about the very same healing potion once more. Now, in a smaller group of far less hostile people, she felt more comfortable with repeating her suggestion and explaining how she had gotten to the realization in the first place. Many people asked for her name, her age, her profession… and some went even further and asked for her opinion on all kinds of topics related to potions and even herbology. Robin did her best to answer with knowledge and educated guesses, but seeing as she was actually taken seriously by the people who bothered to talk to her in the first place, she also didn’t hesitate to say when she didn’t know about something. In those latter cases, she asked the person she was speaking to for suggestions on books or articles on the topic, so that she could one day maybe answer their question on a more profound basis. Finally, some time after eleven at night, she made for the train back to Oxford with a long list of things to read up on, and an even longer one of people she had left an impression with.

… … …

The days after the conference were as dreadful as the summer usually was, and any opportunity to make something out of the free time stayed ridiculously absent. Thus Robin was bored out of her mind even more quickly than usual, therefore spent more time reading than likely was good for her, and generally found herself desperately wishing to be able to return to school already. Every bit the usual summer.

After two weeks of this mind numbing madness however, Robin’s days became a little more bearable with an unexpected turn of events. She was sitting at breakfast, her parents about to leave for the day, when her mom came back into the kitchen to hand Robin a letter, saying it looked like her friends from school had finally thought of her after all. Robin didn’t have the heart nor the time to tell her that she didn’t even have friends, so she just took the letter out of her mom’s hand with a quiet thank you, shrugged at the question who it was from and merely tossed it onto a stack of books in feigned indifference. Then she wished her mom and dad a nice day at work, and continued to sip on her black coffee.

However, the very second the front door fell shut and the house silent in return, Robin had the letter in her hands again and flipped it over to see her name written on the envelope in the familiar spidery cursive she’d missed seeing in the past few weeks. Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know if she should be scared or excited about this letter. Both, probably. Without wasting another second, she opened the envelope with a kitchen knife and fiddled a folded piece of parchment out of it. Yup, definitely scared and excited at once. But if she was in trouble, it surely would’ve been an official school letter, right? Not just an average envelope with nothing but her name on it… bloody hell, her heartbeat was louder than the silence around her. With a deep breath, she unfolded the letter at last.

Miss Mitchell.

You might find yourself wondering what led me to write to you in between terms, and you will find the main answer to that in the envelope with this letter.

Robin stopped reading at that point and took another look into the envelope she had carelessly dropped onto the counter. There was another piece of paper in it, folded in half as well, but Robin could already tell by the look of it that it was a newspaper cutout. Once she unfolded it, she found herself both smiling and feeling too warm in the face at once. It was the photograph that had been taken at the conference, with a short article beneath it. It was nothing special, just a little text about how many people had attended and which topics had been discussed, and thus Robin found herself looking at the moving photograph for a longer moment instead. Really, she’d known that she had somewhat stood out from the crowd, but the picture made it undeniably evident. About fifty much older people in thick and flowing robes and with the most serious faces, and Robin right in the middle with her short skirt, victorian style blouse and a small smile. Oh dear… she almost dreaded going back to Snape’s letter. He surely would be complaining about her choice of clothes, but she honestly hadn’t known better. Her attire would’ve been perfectly ordinary in the muggle world. Oh well… at least the photograph was a lovely reminder of the admittedly amazing day she’d had at the conference. Careful not to crease the picture any more than the folds it already had, she put it into her most recent journal and then finally went back to the letter.

Miss Mitchell.

You might find yourself wondering what led me to write to you in between terms, and you will find the answer to that in the envelope together with this letter. The picture was published in the Daily Prophet the day after the conference. This cutout was sent to me a few days later, by an acquaintance who you should have met at the event, Patrick Isaac. I assume you are not keeping up with the news, not with the Prophet at least, which is why I decided to forward the picture to you directly. Perhaps you would like to keep the cutout, you certainly have more use for it than I do.

Furthermore it might interest you to know that Mister Isaac, together with the picture, sent me a fairly long letter to gush over a certain young witch by the name of Robin Mitchell who attended the conference with him and who obviously was rumored to be a friend of mine. I will spare you the details of his disconcertingly detailed elaborations, but overall it appears that you have earned yourself quite a few admirers among the attendees, if the other six letters that I have received in your praise are any indicator of that. It seems that you have surprised me yet again, which indeed does not surprise me at all.

However I still would like to know more about the 'remarkable incident’ involving a certain new potion that was discussed. Multiple people reference it in the context of your astonishing intellect, yet without ever elaborating on the issue. What did you do this time that rendered competent professionals quite so speechless? I expect your timely reply, seeing as you do not have further plans for the summer anyway.

Snape

Robin frowned at the last few lines, then sighed to herself and dropped the letter on the counter to make another cup of coffee first. Well, at least writing a letter would give her something to do. And writing a letter to Snape would give her something enjoyable to do indeed. A smile spread on her lips as she set the kettle on the stove. He could’ve waited until after the holidays to give her the clipping, and even to ask her about the conference, but he had sent a letter instead and that made Robin smile even more. Maybe, in some reality, he actually enjoyed talking to her too. Seriously enjoyed it, that is, not just because she kept on talking to him first. Once the kettle whistled, she added the boiling water to her instant coffee and then balanced the letter, the envelope, her book, her journal AND the coffee mug up the stairs and towards the desk in her room. She had a letter to write after all.

… … …

Robin received the next letter three weeks after she had written to Snape about her experiences at the conference. She’d been careful in her explanations to always leave some things unsaid so she would have something to tell him in person, but she had elaborated on the conversations she’d had with people he might possibly know.

This time his letter was dropped off by an owl on a Sunday evening, which almost gave Robin’s dad a seizure when the poor animal landed on the windowsill next to his armchair. Somehow muggles just couldn’t get used to the post being delivered by owls… People have used pigeons to deliver messages for decades; what was so weird about owls now?!

“Oh look, it has the same illegible handwriting on it as the last one.” Her mom smiled as she picked up the envelope that again just had Robin’s name written on it. “How come your friend didn’t write to you in the last years?”

“We, uh… we’ve only been friends since rather recently.” Robin replied evasively and snatched the envelope out of her mother’s hand. “And his handwriting isn’t illegible! It’s just… kinda squiggly.”

“If you say so, sweetie.” Her mom shrugged, and turned back towards the living room. “You must have a lot of practice deciphering his handwriting if you find it legible.”

“We work together. A lot.” Robin mused and thumbed over the rough corners of the envelope. “On… essays.”

“Well, if I had to grade his essays, he surely wouldn’t come very far.” Her dad replied with a snarky expression while he didn’t even look up from his book. “I’m surprised that you write essays in that school in the first place. Not just bunnies in top hats then, huh?”

“You are who wouldn’t come very far.” Robin whispered to herself with a roll of her eyes as she made for her room with her letter still clasped tightly in hand, not even honoring her father’s remark with a reply. Honestly, her dad wouldn’t understand a single word about anything magical at all, seeing as he made every attempt not to, nor would he ever understand that she wasn’t attending a clown’s college but a serious magical academy. And… oh bloody hell, he would probably hate Snape with a passion. Well, good thing they never had to meet. Hopefully. Unfortunately. Ugh… that crush of hers wasn’t getting any better, rather on the opposite. But she usually could ignore it pretty well these days.

With a sigh she sat down on the carpeted floor, leaning against the post of her bed as she opened the envelope at last. This letter was a lot shorter than the first, but she didn’t mind. The sole fact that he had replied even though he didn’t have to was enough to make her skin crawl in excitement.

Miss Mitchell.

I cannot believe that you told off one of the best renowned potioneers in the country, and obviously were in the right to do so. What I would give to have been a witness of the incident indeed; I have always had a rather strong distaste for that man. You will need to tell me more on the specifics of the circumstances once term starts.

Furthermore I have come to the decision that I would like you to assist me in my practical work and studies from now, seeing as I deem any other mode of teaching you insufficient and thus pointless. Your knowledge is already on an acceptable level, as you have once more proven at the conference, and I believe it is time that your practical capabilities keep up with both my standards for your work and your own. You will assist me in my work, and in return I will do my best to teach you everything I possibly can. Seeing as you have run out of books of mine to read, I believe this addition to our already prevalent nightly meetings to be in your best interest as well. I am looking forward to the new term.

Snape

Seconds ticked by and Robin stared at the letter in her hands with a positive numbness, until at last her lips curled into a smile, then a grin, and at last she felt an overwhelming excitement at the opportunity that had just opened up in front of her. Well, and the fact that he had in all seriousness written 'already prevalent nightly meetings’ without any care in the world. It was amazing how absolutely serious and yet casual he was about it. A pleasant shudder ran up Robin’s spine, all the way into her neck. He couldn’t mind her presence all that much if he suggested her to spend even more time perched into the minimal space of the laboratory with him, could he?

She had been helping out in the lab on a few occasions since their endeavour with the restored page in her third year, but it by far hadn’t been a regular thing nor one that could be described as real practical experience. While she’d been desperately wanting and wishing to do this kind of practical work with Snape again, for a multitude of reasons, she had never actually believed that she might. And now she would. God, she couldn’t wait for the holidays to be over already.

______________________________

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