#if my reflexes/memory was better i could probably get under 10 seconds

[frogmaestro]

i found the one piece and then spent four hours optimising my route

i made a flow chart and excel sheet too . im in too deep

[simsadventures]

Gilded: Chapter 1: To Bride or Not to Bride

Mob! Steve x Reader

Summary: Your life is a mess and you need a little help from time to time. But, when somebody proposes a plan to rid you of all your problems all the way to the far future, you’re suddenly not so sure it is worth it. Especially since the plan is proposed to you by the most notorious gangster America has seen since Al Capone: Steve fucking Rogers. 

Warnings: mafia AU, swearing (like, a lot this time), angst, struggles with money, loan-shark, sleazy men, harassing

Word Count: 7969

A/N: It’s finally here! It only took me around 6 months to bring it, and I apologise for the delay, but I hope I will make up for it with introductory this chapter :) Share your thoughts, let me know what you thought and what do you think will happen next :) xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist 

“Just, wait a second,” you said, your brows knitting together as you tried to piece together all the information the man in front of you had just given you. He was gorgeous, there was no question about that, but that wasn’t the issue here. There were many gorgeous people in New York, and you didn’t marry any of them. Yet, that was. 

“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction. 

“I told you, honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing. 

2 weeks ago

“Coming!” You yelled through the loud music at the guests seated by the table number 5 where a group of guys was seated, hollering at you every two seconds as if you didn’t hear them the first time. You rolled your eyes at your colleague, who just laughed under her breath as you strode towards the clients. You put on your best fake smile as you approached them, and from the whistles, you assumed they appreciated it. 

“Thank God you came, sweets. We thought you were getting tired of us,” the loudest of them laughed, and the group followed his suit, making your clench your jaw even more. Oh, how you hated this type of men, who had nothing better to do than calling a woman pet-names, making her feel uncomfortable just so his friends could have a laugh and a story to tell. 

“What can I get you, gentleman? Another round of the same?” You asked as sweetly as you could, but it was getting harder by the second as they all eyed you like a piece of raw meat, ready to be devoured. 

“I mean, that would be nice, and could you serve us a piece of that sweet ass of course as well? We’d really appreciate it, pretty face,” the loud guy smirked sleazily, and you fought the urge to vomit in your face. One of the guys made the mistake of actually making a move to swat you across your butt, but your reflexes were quicker. 

You took a step back and breathed in, trying to calm your beating heart. This was, however, nothing new in your line of work, and you just learned to ignore it, or, at best, politely turn them down. Because, as you learned very early on, the manager didn’t appreciate if his “girls” were nasty to his customers. He almost made it sound like you were to provide your bodies with the beers, but you told him straightforwardly that that wouldn’t happen, and if his pub was one of these, you wanted to have nothing to do with it. All you were there to do was to work the evening and night shift to get some extra money on top of your regular job, and that was it. He even made a few remarks how he wanted you all to himself, but you politely declined every time and just tried to ignore it altogether.

“This ass is not for sale, I’m sorry, boys. But, the vodka shots are coming right up,” you tried to give them your best wink but didn’t wait long enough to see if they accepted their loss or not. You genuinely didn’t care. 

The night continued in a similar manner, some people being inappropriate and you just ignoring their behaviour, and some people actually nice, even leaving you a few tips which always made you smile. You were beat when it was 11, and your shift ended, and you were thrilled today wasn’t one of those days when you had to stay there till 4 AM. It was then that people got really disgusting and you even had to resolve to hit a guy this one time because otherwise, you were pretty sure he’d manage to rape you. You sighed at the memory as you continued on your way home, just now remembering you left the tips meant for you in your locker.

Sighing you turned around and walked back towards the bar, and when you were in, you noticed three men in black suits talking to your coworker, who looked stunned and scared at the same time. You cocked a brow at her, and she discreetly shook her head, telling you that you shouldn’t come nearer. 

This time, you really frowned and looked around, but the rest of the pub looked exactly the way you left it, even with the assholes by the fifth table. But you listened to her and took a step back to one of the dark corners, watching what was going on by the bar. It didn’t take long, definitely not longer than 5 minutes before the men turned around and left the building. 

Your coworker looked positively alarmed by now, and you almost ran to her to ask what the fuck did just happen. 

“I have no idea, Y/N. I noticed them by table 10 like an hour ago, but I didn’t pay them any attention because that was Christy’s sector tonight and I had the veranda. And when you left they just came here asking about you,” she breathed out, and it was your turn to look alarmed. 

“The fuck? Why would they ask about me when it was Christy who took care of them?” You screeched, your brain not really comprehending the situation. 

“I have no fucking idea, Y/N. But, like, they asked your name and stuff, and like, if you were a regular waitress here or what. I didn’t want to tell them anything, I swear, but they didn’t take no for an answer. So I just told them your first name, I wouldn’t budge on your last, I promise, and told them that you sometimes worked here but that I didn’t know when was your next shift,” she finished, a little scared of your reaction now, but from the look of those guys, you knew they were bad news and that Anja did the best she could.

“Nah, it’s ok, An. I would do the same. I’m really grateful that you didn’t give them my last name, though, that was really thoughtful of you,” you smiled at her, and it obviously put her at ease as she hugged and hurried back to the veranda, where you both saw a few guests waving that they needed a refill. 

The hell did just happen, and why would three mysterious men ask about you? 

It couldn’t be that they found out, right? No… you made sure all the traces were hidden, forever, so, that wasn’t an option. 

No, you told yourself, there must be another reason for them to ask about you. But you didn’t want to find out. It was a one-time thing, these men were just confused, or one of them liked you or something like that, and you would never see them again. This actually calmed you down enough to start functioning again, and you remembered that you came for something specific, took the money and went straight home. 

“This can’t be happening,” you muttered as you looked over your bills. There was so much to pay and so little money on your account that you actually started to sweat. You worked two jobs and still wasn’t able to afford to live a life where you didn’t have to worry about money. What was more, with the high taxes, your rent, subway card and food you went into red numbers, and that was something you definitely didn’t want. Nobody told you that as an Arts Major, you could still be struggling to stay alive in the city of New York. 

You went over the bills again even though you knew your math was correct and that you didn’t have enough to pay your landlord this month. 

Fuck, you muttered again and considered your options. You could ask your friends, but you didn’t want to bother them since you knew they were struggling as much as you were. You shared your apartment with two of your best friends who you considered a family by now, Caroline and Aidan. And while you knew they would do anything to help you, neither of their jobs paid enough to be able to help you as much as you needed this month. 

Your other option was asking your landlord to give you some more time before more money arrived, but just imagining the conversation gave you goosebumps because you could picture the kind of service he’d want from you, and you’d literally rather go and beg on the street than to sleep with that middle-aged pig. 

So, as you summarised it, the only option remained the loan shark. Tony was actually a nice guy, once you got to know him, and he was nice to you because you always paid precisely what he told you to when he told you to, and never asked too many questions or begged for more time. You were smarter than that, and, besides, you’ve seen too many movies with loan sharks to know what could happen to you. 

The first time you went to him was probably 2 years ago, straight from university when you still thought you could make it big in New York. Well, safe to say that you didn’t make it, and while you remained hopeful, you had bigger problems than becoming a renown painter, like not starving to death and other fun stuff like that. 

You were awfully scared to go to Tony, he had a reputation of being kind of an ass, but people also said that, compared to the other guys in the business, he actually had the fairest demands, and as you had no other choice, you just went to him. And because life was a bitch, you ended up going there on more occasions. Tony was kind enough always to lend even small amounts of money because you really didn’t need 100K. No, you always need like 1 or 2 thousand, and while the other loan sharks turned people like you down, Tony didn’t, and he never wanted more than like 400$ as a return, which seemed quite fair as the other guys always wanted 100% or more. 

Well, Tony, it was, as you sighed looking around your room, thinking how you even got where you were. But there was no time to waste pitying yourself, and so you shot Tony a quick message, as you always did, and to no surprise, he was very quick to respond that you should come by later that afternoon. 

You were just getting ready when Aidan burst through your door. He stopped mid-step, looking at you confusedly because you didn’t tell him you were going somewhere. 

“Got a date or what? You never go out on Saturday afternoon, not if you can help it,” he said sceptically, looking around the room as his eyes landed on the fumbled papers on your table, and the look of realisation hit him. 

“You going to Tony again? Y/N, we told you, we can help you, babe! Let us help just this once, please?” He pleaded with you even though he knew it was useless. 

“C’mon, babe, you know you and Caroline are not making much either, and you’re both glad to get by another month. Tony is like an old friend by now, really. I don’t mind it that much, and it’s definitely a better option than burying you two with me under this pile of shit,” you huffed as you finished applying mascara, but you didn’t even check yourself in the mirror, really not caring that much how you looked. You went to Manhattan just to meet Tony and would go straight back, quick mission, in and out. 

“You need to find a better job, Y/N,” Aidan smirked at you, and you just laughed because you both knew it was pretty much impossible, especially since you loved your day job with the only issue that it paid like shit. 

“You know this is my chance to be close to art and I really want it. I mean, it could happen that they promote me from being a receptionist to like, I dunno, being a secretary to one of the curators of the gallery, right?” 

He just huffed and kissed the top of your head, striding towards the door. It was only then that you noticed he was dressed to go out as well. 

“And where are you going, mister?” You asked with a mother-like tone, and he just laughed, turning around as if he was caught in the act. 

“So, you remember John?” He asked, sitting on your bed, and you actually laughed out loud at him. 

“Which one? I mean, there has been so many Johns and Peters that I swear to God I’m starting to think there are only men called John and Peter in the whole fucking New York. So, more info, babe, please,” you scooted to him and listened to which John it actually was he was meeting and was pretty excited about this. This was John the Ballet dancer, and he looked really nice, so far. 

John the Fake Mobster was a lying bastard, John the Hairdresser wanted Aidan for just that one thing but would never admit it, and then you didn’t even have John-the for the guys because they were all just idiots who didn’t see your best friend for what he was: an amazing, although a little extra person with a very good heart, great sense of humour and amazing hair. 

“Alright, well, you know the drill. Keep your phone on data so we can use Find your Friend if needed, keep your eyes open for anything sketchy going on, but, most importantly, enjoy yourself, babe. I’ll see you tonight,” you hugged him tightly and walked out of the apartment and into the busy streets. 

If it were all up to you, you’d live in a secluded place, somewhere in the north probably, like outside Seattle, where you’d have a lovely little house, maybe by a river or by the ocean or something, where you’d have enough inspiration for your art and where you wouldn’t be annoyed by the little things, like the car horns blaring all the way to the night, people shouting underneath your bedroom’s window, and little things like that. 

But life was not a factory for fulfilled wishes, and you had to endure another day trying to make it in New York. You thought about all of this as you walked down the street to where you knew you could find Tony. You weren’t happy that you had to go to him, again, but you also knew that you didn’t need to worry anymore. You would have the money for your landlord by the end of the week, and when the gallery paid you, you would pay Tony back. Again. 

“If it isn’t my favourite girl!” You heard a familiar voice hollering from the shop, and you laughed lightly as you walked into the pawnshop Tony had set up in the lower Manhattan. 

“Hello to you too, Tony. Today a yellow day, or what?” You greeted him as you looked at his outfit, which was just a canary yellow tracksuit and a matching hat. He looked like a character from a bad movie, but you knew better than to say anything like that. 

“Yellow is very classy and trendy, thank you very much! Yesterday I wore this really nice green velvet tracksuit, and you should have seen some ladies walking by, they almost ate me with their eyes! I swear!” He added as he saw you stifling a laugh, but you just nodded in fake understanding, and both of you shared a relaxed laugh. 

“So, what can I do for you today, sweetheart?” He drawled, and you shuffled on the spot, always feeling slightly uncomfortable when it came to this part. 

“I need a thousand this week. Ton. I’ve been working my ass off, but the bills keep building up, and every time I think I’m out of it and I can live normally, there is always something holding me back,” you sighed, scratching your arms which was a nervous habit of yours that Tony grew quite fond of. 

He was almost sorry for saying the next thing, but this was way above his pay grade, and while he really did take some liking to you, and he would always give you enough time to pay him off, he knew who he couldn’t piss off. 

“Listen, Y/N, I have a proposal for you,” Tony started, and you frowned, not really knowing where this was going, but from the look on Tony’s face, you could tell it was nothing good. 

“There is somebody who would like to get to know you, and he has a proposal for you that he believes you can’t refuse. I don’t know any specifics, I just know he is willing to pay you a lot of money, and I’m talking thousands and thousands, Y/N. He said that nothing sexual would be involved because I told him that if he was looking for a one night stand, you weren’t his girl, but he assured me that this wasn’t it. He would like to meet with you and tell you all the details if you let him. And before you say no, Y/N, think about it. All you gotta do now is to meet him and listen to him, and he is one of those guys who don’t take no for an answer,” Tony finished, and while you saw it pained him to give you the message, you were too stunned to care. 

“What the hell are you talking about, Tony? Is this some kind of a sick joke? Like, did this guy tell you he wanted to talk to me specifically or just a girl desperate enough to come here?” You blurted, still not getting what he was about. 

“He asked for you, sweetie. I don’t know how, but he knew you’d come and told me when you did to give you the message and give you his address. Which is here,” he said, handing you a piece of paper with an address and a date with the time written on it, “and he told me that if you came and agreed to his plan, you wouldn’t have to worry about money this week or any other week. It could be your chance, Y/N. Look, the guy is extremely powerful, so, please, just go and meet him, and you’ll see, ok?” He was scared, and it made you scoff out loud. 

Great, so a loan shark was giving you a message to meet some mysterious, powerful asshole who wouldn’t take no for an answer and who probably stalked you as he knew you would be coming to Tony sooner or later. Just great, really. 

“It seems I don’t really have a choice, do I? Sheesh, Tony, at least tell me who this guy is and like how scared I should be. You gotta give me something because I can’t just go to some random house and be totally ok with it. Nobody can’t expect me to do so,” you pointed out, and Tony nodded in understanding. 

“Totally, yeah. I even asked if I should come with you, but I was told you should be alone. You should be alert, let’s put it that way. If I were you, I’d really think before I speak, because this guy doesn’t take anything lightly. And I think it would be best if you didn’t know his name, Y/N. Just… he doesn’t want to hurt you, all he wants to do is speak to you, so please, just do it,” Tony finished just as some customer came into the shop. 

You waited patiently because the conversation was far from over, but you knew better than to start shit in front of some stranger. Tony was evidently scared shitless of the guy, and it only fuelled your already growing anxiety. Tony was determined not to share too much information with you, but you didn’t understand why. Why could you not at least know the guy’s name? Who could it be? 

Your brain took a detour to a few nights ago back at the pub where you saw the men asking about you, and a cold sweat broke on your skin. It must have been connected, there was no doubt in your mind about that, and it filled you with so much dread you actually had to catch your right hand with your left to stop yourself from shaking violently. 

The doorbell rang signalling the customer left, and your eyes gazed at Tony, who was already staring at you apologetically. 

“And what about the money, Tony? It’s Saturday, and I need to pay my rent by Friday next week. Nice of the guy, whoever the fuck he is, that he wants to see me, but he won’t if I’m on a fucking street next weekend,” you seethed, and Tony was quick to walk around the counter behind which he was standing this whole time and walked closer to you. 

“He wants to see you on Wednesday, Y/N, and he specifically told me not to lend you any money, that he would take care of it. Whatever the fuck it means.”

“The fuck? I don’t even know his fucking name, and he will stop me from getting money to survive? What the actual hell, Tony? You can’t be serious right now,” you cried out in utter desperation because none of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to come, chat a little with the goatee man, get the money and walk back home, where you’d watch some stupid TV show and drink shitty wine. 

But no, of all the people living in New York this shit must be happening to you. As you didn’t have enough on your fucking plate as was, some mysterious fucker had to be interested in you for whatever reason, and he wouldn’t let you live without talking to him first. 

“Can’t you just call him and tell him that I want to have nothing to do with him?” You asked when you felt calm enough to talk again. You didn’t even know whether you were scared or desperate or angry, but at best, you were feeling a mix of all these and some more, that was for sure. 

“No can do, sweetie, but I promise it will be alright, ok? You’re a strong one, I know that and whatever he wants from you, you can either give or can talk to him,” Tony smiled sweetly, and while you knew he was full of bullshit you let it slide because you just didn’t have it in you to fight with him when he was clearly just the messenger. Whoever wanted to speak to you, however, he would hear it from you because where were we that a guy just asks for a girl and the whole of New York delivers her to him on a silver platter?

Wednesday 

“You gotta be kidding me, Y/N. Are you seriously considering going there? For all you know it might be some elaborate trap and somebody’s gonna jump you and kill you in some dark alley,” Caroline screeched at you as she saw you getting ready after you came home from work. 

You had to ask for a night off from the pub since mister nobody wanted to meet you on your night of work. But you knew you couldn’t say no. Whoever it was, Tony was afraid of him, and Tony was a tough guy. And not that you wouldn’t be brave, but your bravery was mostly concentrated on being able to throw a spider out of the apartment or walk the corridor with the lights out, not really crossing some powerful guy who could do God-knows-what to you if you didn’t come. 

“C’mon, guys. You know I gotta do it. And I honestly think if they wanted to kill me, they would have already done it,” you muttered, trying to pick something to wear, that wasn’t too revealing, but you also didn’t want to go wherever you were going in a pair of baggy sweatpants you were currently rocking. 

“But like, what if they want to make a personal slave out of you, huh? Like, cuff you to a ceiling and serve them with your body, like a personal kind of slave, you know what I mean? You were not made to be strapped to a ceiling, babe,” Aidan panicked, and you actually had to laugh. 

“Your imagination never ceases to astonish me, Aid. Or are you speaking from personal experience?” You smirked as both you and Caroline laughed out loud at Aidan’s expression of utter disgust. 

“You two are disgusting, and I hate you, but that doesn’t change the fact you still don’t know where the fuck you’re going,” Aidan countered and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“I’ll keep my data on so you can see me this whole time, and if I don’t call you by 9 PM you can send the cops there, deal?” 

They both nodded in agreement, knowing this was the best they were getting. You were glad you had them in your life and that you had people caring enough to try and stop you from doing something stupid, but something in your told you that your life would be even worse if you didn’t go. At least this way you’d know the whole story, and you would be able to make an educated decision based on all the variables. 

“A’ight, but if anything sketchy happens, you run, ok? We can figure out the money, but we can’t figure out shit if you’re not here with us,” Caroline reminded you, and you nodded solemnly. 

God, you just hoped you weren’t making a mistake by listening to Tony. He even shot you a message in the afternoon, reminding you to go there because if you didn’t, it could end up badly for both of you. And it was actually one of the decisive arguments in the whole thing, surprisingly. You didn’t want anything happening to Tony, especially not because of you and your decisions, and so you just told yourself to suck it and prepared for the evening. 

You really couldn’t afford the cab, so you had to leave super early to be at the given address at precisely 7 PM. You also grabbed the book you were currently reading, Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140, so that the ride to Manhattan wouldn’t be as dull and dreadful. You could think of the utopian future he depicts rather than thinking of your journey to the lion’s den, and that was the most promising image you created in your head about the place where you were headed. 

Not that you didn’t try to find the place on Google maps, but all the buildings on the address looked the same, and, actually, quite nice, so you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. 

Meanwhile, Tony texted you again since you didn’t reply to his previous text, and this time you took the time to craft a message telling him that yes, you were indeed headed to the manor and he didn’t need to worry about his own neck because you wouldn’t let others be hurt because of your incompetence or your cowardice. 

You knew you were getting off on Chambers St station and you actually took the time to think how many people living in Tribeca had to take the subway. The answer was, very obviously, zero, as the majority of the people in the subway were either passing or were clothed in a way you knew they worked in either one of the restaurants there or as a help. And you felt like one of them, because you too didn’t live in the wealthiest village in New York, and you too were going there mainly for business. Well, at least you hope you did. 

Checking every house number when you got to the street you were supposed to meet the mysterious guy at, you tried to find where exactly was the bat cave, and when you saw the number 112, you knew you found it. 

Your breath came in ragged huffs as you tried to gather the last remnants of your bravery as you walked up the stairs and buzzed on the door. Your head was spinning lightly, and you actually had to lean against the wall beside you to regain your composure. 

The door soon revealed a massive man dressed in a black turtleneck and a pair of black jeans, and you were actually quite surprised not to see him with sunglasses and an earpiece. If the situation weren’t so tense, you’d probably joke about it, but as it was, you just followed his lead as he beckoned you inside. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I presume? I need to see your phone and your belongings, ma’am,” he stated, and you raised a brow at him. 

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a standard procedure, ma’am. Everybody here to see the boss needs to be checked, just in case,” he stated, leaving no room for discussion, and while you sighed exasperatedly, you still handed him your bag and made a point by fishing out the phone and shoving it in his outstretched hand. He took a quick look through your belongings, pushing it against what you assumed was some kind of a metal detector before he pulled out another device. This looked like a big phone, and he scanned your bag once again. 

“What is that?” You asked, unable to stop your curiosity. 

“Checking if you’re not bugged,” he answered matter-of-factly as he continued before he put the device down, clearly not finding anything. Where would you even get a bug, and why would you do it? You rolled your eyes inwardly but kept a straight face in front of the man, just in case he was watching. Which he was, as you found out by him waving in front of your face and showing you to follow him. 

You braced yourself for whatever was awaiting upstairs and obediently walked behind him. 

As you walked through the house, you got the impression that whoever lived there was wealthy, but that kind that didn’t really put on a flashy show. There were no chandeliers, no heavy curtains and stuff you pretty much imagined this place would look like and that image had nothing to do with the Beast and the Beauty dance room, nothing at all. 

But this was… modest. Everything was very contemporary, some prominent brick here and there with mostly grey floors and the furniture was most definitely customary but, again, it was plain yet luxurious. You assumed that’s how the really rich people lived. They knew they had the money, and the people around them knew it as well, so there was no need for diamond stairs and a golden toilet. 

A few names surged from memory as you heard your coworkers discuss the wealthy New Yorkers, but you didn’t want to assume anything before you actually saw the person, so you just walked by the halls before the man stopped in front one of the rooms and quietly knocked. 

It was not surprising when another man dressed exactly like the guy leading you appeared from the room and took a quick look at you before he said something to whoever was behind him. When the affirmative came that you could indeed go in there, they shoved the door open and what you assumed was a living room appeared in front of you. It corresponded with the whole house, but your attention was caught by one specific thing. Your brain had its own world, and when you saw one of Tunji Adeniyi-Jones’s paintings from his last year’s exhibit, you almost fainted. He was your favourite contemporary artist. And seeing his work outside of the gallery was practically an otherworldly feeling. You gaped at the beautiful play of colours, and your heart swooned at the perfection of the brush strokes. 

“Ehm,” you heard somebody cough beside you, and it startled you so much you actually jumped to the side, your hand flying to your chest in a feeble attempt to will your heart to stay calm. 

You took the intruder in and found out that unlike every other man in the room (and there were a few, as you noticed) this guy wasn’t wearing all-black attire. He was in a comfortable-looking creme sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans, everything fitting him as if the clothes were sawn to his body. 

Which, as far as you could tell, was the body of a Greek God. 

“See something you like, honey?” The man interrupted thoughts, and it just crossed your mind that he was really rude, not letting you breathe even for a second before he had to make his presence known. 

“Yes, actually. I’m quite a big fan of the artist whose painting you have there, so I admired that. And you are?” You trailed at the end, signalling that while he was very handsome, you had no idea who he was and why it was that you needed to come to him this evening. 

“Straight to business, huh? I like that. I’m quite surprised Tony didn’t tell you who I was. Was he scared you wouldn’t have come if you knew?” He didn’t wait for your answer, however. “Well, honey, I’m Steve Rogers, and I am very pleased to meet you,” he smirked at your stomach dropped. 

Steve Rogers? That Steve Rogers? It wasn’t possible. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” you muttered as you scratched your arms nervously. 

“Oh no, on the contrary. I’m all too real, Miss Y/L/N, and from the looks of it, I’m glad Tony didn’t tell you, you look like you might faint. Are you feeling alright?” He asked like the smug asshole he was, and you just turned away from him, taking a deep breath before you finally turned back around to face him with a pokerface. 

“I’m alright, thank you. So now, can I know what it is you want from me so much you stalked me and made me come here, pretty much by force?” 

He scoffed but showed you to follow him to the sofa. When you didn’t budge, he simply took you by your elbow and pretty much shoved you down to the plump sofa. 

“Force, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I simply asked you to come visit me, is it so wrong? But yes, you are right, we should talk about why I invited you here. You see, Y/N, I’m in need of a wife, and after long calculations, I came to the conclusion you would be perfect for the job,” he said straightforwardly, and it was now that you felt like you’d faint. 

“Marry me? Are you fucking insane?” You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Form the pissed off expression on his face, you could see it was not the right move, but he couldn’t expect any other reaction, really. 

“Easy, honey or I might have to use the said force to shut that smart mouth of yours,” Steve mumbled dangerously, and you swallowed harshly. 

“Right, you’re a notorious mobster, and I’m literally nobody, and if you killed me, nobody would miss me. Good, now that’s out of the table, why do you want to marry me? And what does it mean you are in need of a wife? I mean… you are notorious for dating a different girl every week, can’t you just marry one of them if you’re in such a great hurry?” 

“No, honey, I can’t. All you need to know right now is my proposal. So, here it is. You will marry me, we will stay married for a year and then get a divorce. You will have everything every girl ever wanted: loads of clothes, all the time in the world to do whatever the fuck you want, you won’t have to work, and I will pay for everything and more. You will live here so you won’t have to worry about your rent money, and I will also pay your student loan, on top of which you will be paid 20.000$ every month for playing your role. And when the year is over, you will walk away rich, without any debts slowing you down and you will be able to do anything you want. How does that sound?” 

“It sounds like it’s not a proposal but a directive,” you smiled sweetly and stood up, pacing the room and scratching your hands like crazy. This was not happening, no, no, no!

You needed the money, you really did, and getting rid of the debt from your student loan that would have been sweet too, but at what price? On the other hand, you thought, how bad could it be to just be somebody’s wife for a year? He did make it sound pretty easy. 

“What would be expected of me?” 

“Well, you would go with me to every event and pretty much listen to everything I say,” he shrugged as if it was the most natural thing to say to another human being. 

“Like, you’d ask me to spread my legs for you here, and I would do it?” You asked, suddenly very angry that the man just assumed what kind of a person you were. You were desperate, but not that desperate. 

“Oh, no, honey. That is one of the reasons why I chose you: I’m not attracted to you, so no, I wouldn’t ask you for any sexual favours. We could even put that to our contract if you’d feel better, but, really, you have nothing to worry from me,” he again said with ease, and you didn’t know if you were glad he just told you this or really pissed and ashamed.

Not that you thought you were some kind of a beauty, far from it, but he also didn’t have to be so upfront about it. And now you understood it even less why the hell he chose you.

“Just, wait a second,” you said, your brows knitting together as you tried to piece together all the information the man in front of you had just given you. He was gorgeous, there was no question about that, but that wasn’t the issue here. There were many gorgeous people in New York, and you didn’t marry any of them. Yet, that was. 

“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction. 

“Honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing.

“Then why choosing me if you don’t find me attractive? Not that it’s an issue, I’m just really trying to understand the situation here,” you said, totally ignoring the threat in his voice as you needed some much valuable answers. 

“Right, well, first of all, as I already mentioned, what I want, I get, honey, and you should always remember that. Secondly, it was your ability to keep a straight face, even though I can see the ability is not endless. I need somebody who will be sickly sweet to both my friends and enemies alike, who won’t mind a few sleazy comments from the old fuckers, and who will look like an obedient wife. I need somebody who will blend in and who will look trustworthy, and not like she was to stay only for a week. And when I saw you in that pub where you used to work, I could see you had what it took to be in this life, even if only for a year,” he finished, and you were glad you were right at least about the guy, Steve, also sending the people to sniff around your workplace. But then it hit you. 

“Where I used to work? I still work there,” you said dumbfounded, and Steve chuckled humorously. 

“Oh no, you don’t. You see, I need my wife free all the time and I need her here with me. Look, Y/N, this is getting tiring, and I really need an answer now. What is it gonna be, huh?”

“Like I even have a choice. You just said you would use force if I said no, so, what am I supposed to say, huh? I don’t want to get married, but I don’t have any money and your snoopy ass is getting in the way of my life, and you ended one of my jobs, and before you say you terminated my contract in the gallery, please think about it again. That job is very important to me, it has always been my dream to be in a gallery surrounded by beautiful art, and, by chance, having my art there as well. 

I don’t know Steve, your offer is very generous, it really is, but I don’t think I’m the right one,” you sighed finally and looked around the room, ignoring the boring looks from Steve. Then you saw the clock and you almost panicked, it was two minutes before 9. 

“Oh my God, I need to call my friends, or they’re gonna call the cops,” you said quickly already dialling Caroline’s number. You told her you were fine and that no, you weren’t a personal slave yet, but that you’d tell them everything when you got home. When the call ended, the venom was back in Steve’s eyes. 

“If you think you can talk to people about anything I have just said, you are terribly wrong, doll,” he seethed, and you were taken aback, but you didn’t want him to think he intimidated you.

“Well, if you think I’m not gonna tell my family about this, then it’s you who is terribly wrong, Steve. We tell each other everything, and if I considered this proposal of yours, it would mean Aidan and Caroline would know about this, at least that I’m marrying you for more than my undying love for you,” you spat back, and Steve saw the determination in your eyes. He knew he had to compromise with you, even if only a little bit. 

He already found out everything about you, he knew your whole life, your past, everything his people could find on the internet. And what he got from the search was that you and the people you lived with were extremely close. He considered getting rid of them but realised it would only push you away from what he needed from you. And he needed a wife ASAP. 

The mafia was still very conservative, and as he was the only boss without a constant woman by his side, he was sometimes excluded from important meetings that happened on “family retreats.” And he needed all the info there was if he wanted to be the best of the best. Or, the worst of the worst, if we were being literal. 

“Fine, but they will need to sign a contract saying that they will keep their mouths shut,” Steve smiled back, and you nodded, your head already spinning. 

Were you really considering it? But was there any other option? You needed the money, and it would’ve be great if you didn’t have to care about your student loan for the rest of your life. You would see the world, just like you wanted, you would have time for your art, and you would be free after only a year. That didn’t sound that bad. Sure, you’d be affiliated with a known mafia boss, but that was nothing you couldn’t handle. But there was still a question Steve didn’t answer. 

“What about my job at the gallery? If you made them fire me and I’m gonna find out tomorrow, I can’t even begin to consider this. I want that job, I want to work at that gallery, Steve.” 

“Fucking hell, I could buy you the gallery if you agreed!” He shouted, exasperated that it was taking so long. He really didn’t get it. He was proposing a life in luxury, and he knew that the majority of women in New York would be more than happy to be seen by his side. But you? You had to be difficult and even demand stuff. Fucking hell…

“But whatever, you wanna work there, fine. Whatever, I don’t give a fuck. Do we have a deal or not? I have better things to do with my evening than just bargain with you, honey,” he accentuated the pet name that you already hated.

Well, this wasn’t how you imagined your proposal to go. Not that you were too keen on the whole idea of a marriage, but still, a girl could dream. Yet, here you were, actually considering getting tied up with a mobster for a year just because he offered you enough money and a life that you felt like could be interesting, if only for a year and with a man who blatantly told you he wasn’t interested in you in that way. This was the only reason you didn’t feel as dirty as you expected because you knew he would never touch you and never want you to do something sexual against your will. 

You were used to lying through your teeth ever since you were little, your parents made sure you knew how important it was to keep your secret, and dangerous life wasn’t something you only heard of on TV. All this made the decision slightly easier, as you finally made up your mind. 

“Fine, but we still have a lot to talk about, Mr Rogers,” you set your jaw and outstretched your hand to shake on it with him. 

“Whatever, Mrs Rogers. Consider your rent paid and I’ll see you on Friday when we discuss our matter in greater detail. Now, if you excuse me,” he kissed the top of your hand and walked away. 

Well, this would be fun, you told yourself as you watched the man you would soon call your husband walk away from you, and contemplated whether you made the right choice. But your life wasn’t great as was, as much as you tried to fill it with laughter and happiness, and, in a sense, Steve offered you an out, even if only for a little bit. 

Here was to nothing, you hollered at yourself in your mind and followed one of the turtleneck-guys out of the manor and into the chilly air of evening New York.

/ Next Chapter >

Tags will be in reblogs. Taglist for this series is open, all you have to do is send an ask or a message to me :) x Thank you for reading!

[pollylynn]

Title: Bygone WC: 1200 Episode: Last Call (3 x 10)

She thinks he’s probably dying to ask if she’s read In a Hail of Bullets. He won’t ask, though. She’s sure of it. He will not ask, because he is in love with nostalgia at the moment, but nostalgia is not in love with him. It’s definitely being a bit of a tease, but that’s how she knows it’s not love. It never is with nostalgia.

It starts with the case itself. Of all the gin joints in all the world, nostalgia sets its trap for him by way of Wilbur Pittorino, a throwback messenger if there ever was one, who connects Donny to the Old Haunt. He’s eager to tell her all about it. He’s eager to tell her more than anyone could ever possibly want to know about it, and she lets him know. She gives him a little big of a kick to the nostalgic shins, because come on—it’s a bar, and truly nothing is the way anyone remembers it being when things were brand new.

That’s how she feels about the whole idea of nostalgia. It’s what she’s found to be the closest thing to a universal truth: Nothing in the real world can stand up to what memory has softened and smoothed and punched up for prime time. That’s the driving force behind her kick to his shins on the sidewalk in front of the stairwell leading down into what will most definitely prove to be just a bar.

She regrets the kick a little. She at least regrets the awkwardness of it, because her that explains a lot is, for once, entirely sincere. It is straightforward, with nothing tucked between its lines, but he takes it as a shot about the book—his very first book, and she knows he’s dying to ask if she’s read it.

But he’ll never ask now because he’s defensive about it. He cite sales figures with a reflexive ease that tells her this isn't the first time he’s had to do some defending. He’s protective of the memory and the actual, tangible, here-I-am-in-my-four-hundred-dollar-jeans success it’s brought him, and she wasn’t taking a shot. She wasn’t casting aspersions, she was stepping out of herself. She was leaving her nostalgia-skeptic mindset parked at the curb and trying to follow him a little ways down memory lane. But he hears it as a dismissal—a cheap joke about the book being beer-soaked and incomprehensible or something.

Nostalgia seems hell bent on consoling him at first, or luring him in deeper so the kill is that much more unpleasant. Eddie the piano man recognizes him and launches into something dark and percussive at the low end of the ivories. It tickles him in a way that’s more than ego. There’s plenty of that, too, of course, but she sees some of the years fall away from him as he stuffs a bill into the brandy snifter atop the battered upright. She sees an excitement that isn’t quite his usual kid-like speed. It’s yearning and optimistic and ambitious.

It’s a glimpse she’s never really had of the young man he was before the shell shock of single-parenthood had set in, and the pain of Kyra—of Meredith—had gotten a chance to take a bite of him. She gets that glimpse in him—the man before her—and in the picture he proudly points out over the curved booth near the end of the bar. She catches a little of that . . . whatever it is. The spark of the past that lights him up. She catches a little of it, and she means it when she unguardedly exclaims that he was so cute.

But her mouth—her stupid, shin-kicking mouth—spoils it. It just has to add back then, and he deflates. He gets defensive and self-conscious for the second time in two minutes, but that’s not what she meant, either. She’s the last person to cast her gaze backward and say Yeah, that was better. Yeah, he was cute then, and now he is . . . what he is now, but she can’t exactly say that. There’s no way for her to dig herself out of this.enemy-of-nostalgia hole. There’s no real way, and now he’s never going to ask her what she knows he’s dying to ask her.

It’s a little miserable after that. His nostalgia takes a grumbling tun that’s not even fun for him. He broods over the bar and the scotch, the secret basement office and the auction house, which may be the stuffiest place on earth, but it at least honors the past, according to the absurd conservative talk-show host he seems suddenly to have turned into. He rolls out every cliché he can think of, and some he generates on the fly, about the bygone era bootlegging era, and it’s tiresome. It’s boring and this is exactly her problem with nostalgia—the fact that it’s apt to turn anyone into Old Man Yells at Cloud.

And that’s how they spend most of the rest of the case. He’s unhappy with the now just as much as the the then. She’s unhappy with a monster of her own making. They’re both pretty unhappy beneath the surface of their usual banter, their usual forays into odd places.

And then, unbelievably, things come full circle. He has, in a fit of pique, spent who knows how many months’ coffee budget. Their investigation has yielded his heart’s desire—one of them anyway. They find themselves at the Old Haunt. They find themselves in the booth under his picture, the last two holdouts, who both know and dread the fast-approaching last call.

He’s been holding court all night, Ryan and Esposito have s peppered him with one-hundred millions questions, and he has kicked back and answered every one of them. But they’ve all departed for their warm honey-milk, their hour unwinding in front of the big screen, their wife who’s waiting up and their children, who are in bed.

It’s just the two of them and there’s a lull in the conversation. It's long enough, noticeable enough, that he starts to panic. She can see it coming over him. She can see him reaching for useless facts or something else that will kill the low-key, intimate vibe they have going on between them tonight. She sees it come over him and she jumps in to head him off at the pass.

“I read it.” She points up at his photo on the wall. “I remember that fist picture of you on the dust jacket.” She fights a little fight within herself and kick to the nostalgic shins—a strategic kick this time—wins the battle. “I was thirteen.”

He looks aghast at that. He hasn’t done the math, and that’s the trouble with nostalgia. She was thirteen. But here and now, surrounded by that wee small hour energy and all its potential for creation, he doesn’t care. She doesn’t care. They’re nostalgic.

“Tell me,” he says, propping his chin on his fists, his elbows on the table. “Tell me all about it.”

A/N: Interminable morphouslessness. And I am soooo tired.

images via homeofthenutty

[jasntodds]

Hamartia [9]

Pairing: Dark!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Words: 4,585

Warnings: Swearing, hurt/comfort, fluff, mention of past depression and body image issues, mentions of injuries, description of injuries, mentions of addiction, some description of gore I gues??????????

Summary: Now that the trust’s been broken, where’s that leave you and Peter?

A/N: Bold italics are thoughts! Yeah, there’s no actual angst, basically just hurt/comfort start to finish. I’m surprised, too. Also, tags have been really weird lately, so if y’all could please reblog this chapter since not a single tag worked for chapter 8, I would really appreciate it!! But I hope you guys like it!! Please lemme know what y’all think!!

ch. 8 || ch. 9 || ch. 10

series masterlist // masterlist

Peter's eyes watch as his feet walk across the tiled floor of the tower, hearing the quiet sound of a TV playing from somewhere down the hallway, likely still playing from someone falling asleep and not making it to their room. He still knows this tower like the back of his hand, having spent so much time here and living here half the time. While, it's a little awkward and a little scary to be here, not quite feeling like he belongs anymore, there is almost this sense of comfort as he walks alone.

As far as he knows, no one is awake, or at least, awake and near him. It's been about three maybe four hours since he last saw you, since he last saw anyone besides Bruce and it's reaching half-past three now so of course, everyone should be asleep. Clint and Tony might be awake, the only ones awake somewhere but Clint's probably awake in his own room with Nat or he might be the one in the approaching living room and Tony would be down in the labs, working on new tech or trying to find a way to stabilize the extremis. But, here, walking through the halls, it's just Peter. It brings him back to nights when he'd sneak into your room late at night.

The sneaking really became unnecessary as you both got older as you didn't actually have a time for "lights out" anymore but it never stopped Peter from climbing the walls and crawling on the ceiling to avoid making noise and being seen just to get to your room. It always made you laugh and maybe that's why he always did it. From kids to college students, it just always made you laugh and after you were attacked by Doc Ock, it was one of the only things that really got you to laugh for awhile, especially in Peter's presence. But, either way, when Peter would get to your room, all you ever did was talk or turn on a movie, sharing a bag of gummy worms. Sometimes a little bit of tradition and routine is good, safe for memories

But, tonight isn't like those other nights. It's not Peter crawling on walls and the ceiling to split a bag of gummy candy. It's not getting caught by Tony who just questions why Peter was crawling on the ceiling when he could just walk. It's a night of hopeless steps with tired eyes and aching bones, heart in his stomach and broken trust. Tonight, is a whole new night of Peter walking down the hallway and catching a glimpse of you on the couch as he reaches the living room, your eyes on the screen, blue light illuminating your face.

He pauses, stops in his tracks as he sees you and he should probably keep walking to sleep off the night. You probably want nothing to do with him anyway, not tonight. And it's late and he's had a hard day between getting shot and having to fight off the skeleton in his head. He's exhausted but you’re still awake and that just doesn't seem right. But, the last he talked to you, you didn't trust him and it didn't go well so why would you want him around right now?

Maybe he shouldn’t have stopped, should've just kept walking, pretend like he didn't see you. But seeing you awake at this hour, not in a lab or your room, it's a reflex for him to stop. After all of this time, it's still a reflex. If anyone deserves proper sleep, especially after tonight, it's you. But, despite Peter wanting to ask why you’re still awake, this is your time so Peter starts walking, keeping his steps quiet but as he starts walking past, you catch sight of him, eyes flicking in his direction.

Your brows furrow as you see him in the dark, black shorts cutting at the knee of the prosthetic and white shirt barely reflecting the backlight of the TV. "Hey? Peter?" You call and Peter stops again, turning to face you with a nervous huff.

"Um....hey?" Peter bites his lip, his eyes look to the side before going to you.

"What're you doing?" You ask, pausing your TV. "It's late."

"Yeah..." He glances to the floor with a shallow breath. "B-banner, he uh, he just got done with some tests." Peter looks back to you, scars a reflecting blue from the light of the TV reflecting off of your face. "What're you doing awake?"

You fidget in your seat and how are you supposed to tell him that despite what you said earlier, you’re only awake in this living room to see him. You know his room is right down the hall and that he'd have to bypass this living room in order to get there. How are you supposed to tell him that you can't sleep without knowing he's okay?

"Couldn't sleep." You shrug, words nonchalant.

Peter nods softly before he furrows his brows and takes one step back. "I-I'm sorry." Peter swallows thickly and you open your mouth but Peter keeps talking. "For....everything. And that you can't sleep but for everything," Peter lets out a breath and whispers. "Today." His hands move in front of him, fingers of his right hand picking at the calluses of his left hand.

"I know." Your voice candid but your eyes fill touches of sorrow, still torn on the events and just wanting him.

You’re in a war with yourself over it. You could have died and it would have been his fault but he's so far underwater that he's just dragging people down with him and it's not even his fault. It's just a reflex, involuntary, it happens and if he were better, if he got better it'd all be fine but he's not. So, you just keep going back and forth with being hurt and pissed and scared.

And there's a horrible silence that surrounds the two of you, almost like it's wanting to swallow you both whole. And Peter's thoughts are running around, back and forth, screaming to start talking, spill everything that's running through his head. He already talks when he's nervous but he has so much to say and you’re barely even looking at him and you can't sleep and he's so sorry for everything. And you have to know that.

Peter moves forward a little, his words rushing out. "I never was gonna leave you, I promise. I-I-I-I...I was gonna just....sit on top of a roof and make sure you were okay. I never would have let them do anything to you.....I wouldn't do that to you." Peter's voice is a bit frantic like he knows that's what's got you awake, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking without you having to tell him but maybe that's because it's eating him up just as much as it's eating at you or maybe it's the history between you, maybe it's both.

You chew on your lip, hands fiddling with the blanket over your lap. He's broken. Broken and fragile and he just can't watch anyone else get hurt and he can't do the hero thing. It's too much and if anyone understands, understands what he's trying to do, it's you. In some backwards logic kind of way, maybe you would have tried something similar. It's not as forgivable as other things, but hearing that Peter never planned to leave you in the frantic voice that begs and pleads for you to believe him, you know he's not lying. He regrets it.

He's making an effort, give him a little slack.

"You wanna come sit?" You offer, your eyes dating to the spot beside you.

Peter's eyes widen and he wants to run away as he usually does - too close, too much, too fast - but his feet don't turn him around. His head says run but his heart says move forward. And for once, Peter's body listens to his heart. His feet move forward. You’re that light at the end of the tunnel and while the darkness is calming and comfortable, familiar, the light you hold is so warm and beautiful that Peter just needs to move forward.

You offer him a tender smile, moving over and lending him some of your blanket while he takes a seat. He pulls his left leg up and under his right thigh, trying to get himself comfortable as his eyes go to the TV and see that you’ve got Black Mirror on. And silence consumes you both as you turn the TV back on.

You both watch and listen but neither of you are fully paying attention to what's happening. You're both lost in your heads, thousands of questions and apologies wanting to sputter out with every passing second. It's just been so long and all of this maybe could have been prevented. Maybe if one of you tried harder sooner or if one took the blame one more time rather than the other, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe it's all just one big mistake of the both of you.

"Why do you do it?" You break the silence, unable to stand the stiffness of the air between you and Peter."You know....the crime. You never stood by it before and now it's all you do." You continue, looking at Peter through the corner of your eye.

"I dunno." Peter huffs, head hanging. "I...I thought maybe it was....easier I guess. If-if I do this, uh, maybe you won't want to be around me and then....you won't, um, you won't end up like Flash or MJ or May." Peter swallows thickly, feeling his chest tighten with his words. "It's all my fault, everything. I-I thought maybe if you hated me, you'd be safe."

Peter's head remains hung with his fragile words. Everyone would be safer not around Peter. That's what it always comes down to and he just can't lose you, too. It doesn't matter how many times he repeats it to himself, it just needs to be repeated. He needs to remind himself what you mean to him and how he couldn't handle it. If you died, he would literally go out of his freaking mind and if you died because of him...

You turn and face him without a thought, your legs crossing. "Peter, I could never hate you. Ever. I care about you, Pete." Your eyes search his with your breathy words.

Peter's eyes flicker around to you. He looks over you, starting from where your hands lay clasped in your lap, making their way up to your torso. You’re wearing a tank top and it almost accentuates the old scars on your shoulders. Your chest moves up and down with every breath, the blood on your neck gone, no longer a reminder of the night's events. And Peter's eyes finally reach your face, the scars just seem too bright tonight and it's probably just the blue light from the TV or maybe it's Peter just focusing too much on them. He notices every crevice that seems to fade off from the long and deeper scars, he notices where Doc Ock's claw dug into your face and caused the most damage. That area a lighter shade and visibly more rigid from the tear of flesh. And it all just burns. It burns every part of Peter's body as he looks at you. How can you not hate him for that?

You watch his eyes and suddenly, you’re very aware of your scars again. You’re put in that position Peter's been in all night, having to show his back to you and his leg to Bruce. Exposure and vulnerability. But, you push your own insecurities away and let your heart ache for him, wanting to lift that blame and guilt off of him because he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve any of this. None of this could ever be his fault. That isn't Peter. Even when he tries to be some form of a criminal, it's still not him.

"None of this is your fault." Peter pulls his eyes away from the scars and his eyes meet yours. "That?" You gesture a finger around yourself. "That's on Doc Ock. That's his fault, not yours. You needed to protect to MJ. Not me, I can handle myself and I think we both know that damn well. He should have gone after MJ but he didn't as spite and arrogance. I don't blame you." You move a little closer to him, your voice a type of gentle plea. "I had to be in recovery for months and you were there the whole time. I never blamed you, not for a second. I know...." You pause and it's you that starts to get consumed with guilt. "I know I said it was your fault before, when it happened and I know I apologized for it later but...I don't think I ever told you I didn't blame you. And Pete, I am so sorry." You swallow the lump in your throat with your words.

Just like Peter, you needed someone to blame when things got rough. Scarred and beaten and bloody and bruised. Broken. You needed someone to blame and who better than Peter Parker. Your best friend who chose his girlfriend over you. It was shallow. A low-blow. And you knew that, a fire burning in the pit of your stomach whenever you said you blamed Peter but you were just angry at the situation, you couldn't help it.

Depression hit with having to be laid up in bed and going to physical therapy, giving up lab time and school and cheerleading. And body image issues surfaced from the wounds that would scar after multiple surgeries. It never was about Peter, it was about you not being able to cope properly and yet Peter never left because he knew that. He knew it wasn't about him.

You had taken out your problems on Peter for months but the initial blow of blame came in the first week, after that it was mostly just your bad days. Not that that's an excuse but like you said, you did apologize for blaming him. It was just your bad days that got you, the bad days where you couldn't see the light of your own mind. And Peter got that. He let you blame him when you were bad and he was there for you like he always was on your good days. Friends with a shared bag of gummy worms.

"I know you didn't." Peter says quietly. "You should have though." His eyes are back on your scars and he wants to reach out and run his hands over them, something to just solidify his words but he can't. That's just too much. Too heavy. "I should have saved you." His head tilts to the left, brows knitting together while his mouth purses.

"You did." You let out a breath, a sad smile twitching onto your face. "Peter, I'm alive because you did save me. You showed up. So, what I have scars. So, do you. So, does my dad. That's just a thing that happens."

Peter nods and lets himself face the TV again. You’re right even if it's hard for Peter to accept. He did swing in and he defeated Doc Ock, got you to a hospital in time, he did save you. The scars you sustained from Doc Ock grabbing you would have happened no matter what Peter would have done. The point is that he saved you. That's what matters and you just need him to know that and maybe if it weren't for everything else that's happened, maybe he would have never second-guessed it. You just want him to stop beating himself up so you move closer, closing the distance between you, your knees touching his left leg, your torso still facing him.

Peter turns his torso towards you, his leg on fire with you barely touching him and you're so close again. His breath hitches in his throat and he has this love/hate relationship with this close proximity. You’re warm and comfortable and you just make everything cold and dark melt and hide. You keep him calm without even trying. You being only a few inches from his face is enough to get him nervous but get the self-hatred and blame to ease, enough for his head to be a little clearer. The chaos calms with your bright eyes looking at him. You’re a type of clarity and Peter doesn't really know how or why you do it and it might scare him to no end but maybe that's okay. It's okay to be scared.

"Can I ask you something?" You ask in a hushed whisper. Peter nods, not wanting to speak, afraid of what his voice might sound like. "Why didn't you tell anyone you were clean?" It's eaten at you since Bruce told you and it's after four in the morning. All bits of rational thinking have gone out the window.

Peter closes his eyes for a second before they meet with yours, a mist almost forming over them, his chin wrinkling slightly. "No one ever asked." The fragile and hollow tone shatters every part of your heart.

You should have asked. Every part of your body is bellowing and hollering at you, berating you because you should have fucking asked. All you had to do was ask Peter. That's what friends do, right? They make sure their friends are clean. They make sure they're alright and you didn't do that, not in that way. And yeah, maybe it's because after a few years of having to watch Peter high out of his mind, it became harder and harder for you to watch and witness but you could have asked him. Someone could have asked him.

"I'm so sorry." You croaked. "I...I should have asked. I'm sorry." Peter nods because he gets it. He doesn't blame you for it. He wouldn't have asked either. You lean forward and your hands move to his face slowly, Peter's breath stopping in his throat with the contact. Your thumbs run over his cheeks and your eyes are so distressed and devastated, it's enough to make Peter look away from you but not enough to pull away. "How long?"

"Since May died." Peter whispers, looking back to you. "I...uh, I quit the day after because if I wasn't high.....I could have gotten there in time. Guess my-my healing factor was still....working so I didn't have any of the serious withdrawal symptoms." Peter explains, tears starting to fill the rims of his eyes.

"Peter, I'm so sorry." You whisper and Peter's chin wrinkles in response while he places his hands on your wrists.

His hands wrap around your wrists, pulling your hands away from his face, needing something more because he's about to fall apart. "I-I-I-I just miss her, y/n." Peter's voice breaks as tears start to fall down his cheeks.

"Pete--"

"I...I just really miss her and MJ and I...." Peter sobs and makes the first move with hot and salty tears streaming down his cheeks.

He leans forward, his forehead falling onto your shoulder and you don't even take one second to think before your arms come around his body, pulling him into you as much as you can. And with that comforting hug, Peter's hands reach to your sides and grip your shirt, something to help ground him. His body shakes with every sob that leaves his lips and you find yourself biting your tongue and looking to the ceiling, trying to hold back your own tears from falling, begging everyone who might be out there, the universe, something, for a break.

Make it all stop. Just give Peter a break. Let him breathe, for everything that might be good, let him breathe because despite everything, Peter is good and he deserves better.

Everything is so broken and how broken can things get before they're simply not fixable anymore? Things can only be broken so much before there are pieces missing and it's impossible to put back together whole, like the way it was before. And your biggest fear is that that's what's happening with Peter.

He's missing all of these pieces and he needs help to try and find them, put them back together and glue them in the right places but what if they're just too gone? They're disintegrated from the weight of the guilt and blame from everything else that's happened to him? Can he get new pieces to fill those spots? Because he deserves to be okay and to be healed and glued back together with indestructible glue.

He is one of the good ones. Let him be okay again,

Peter's sobs start to subside with your hand running up and down his back, your head leaning against his. And his tears slow until there's no more left and his heart pounds and aches with every beat and his eyes are puffy and burn. He misses May and MJ and he misses being himself. He wants himself back again. He wants you back, he just wants his damn life back again.

"Y/n?" Peter picks his head up, tear-stained cheeks meeting your gaze before he rubs his eyes. "Um...is...is it okay if I stay...in here until you go to bed?" He asks with a croaky voice, desperation in every word. I can't be alone tonight.

"Yeah," You nod with a fragile and small smile, one hand pushing Peter's messy hair away from his face. "Of course, you can, Pete."

Truthfully, you’re pretty tired but hell, you don't plan on moving even a little bit if it'll give Peter some type of comfort. You will stay up for the next three days if that's what it takes. You can sleep when you’re dead.

So, the two of you resituate, sitting leg to leg and you offer Peter your hand, not wanting to really overstep but still wanting to offer him something and your hand worked on the way here, so maybe holding his hand now will help. And he interlocks your fingers, this time with no hesitation and grants you a smile, one that only you could tell was a smile with the faintness of it but it's enough. And soon enough, you're sat in a comfortable silence with the TV playing, your thumb rubbing soft circles over the top of Peter's hand, Peter slowly falling into the same rhythm against yours.

The episode plays on and Peter's heart doesn't ache as bad as it has over the past two years. It's like it's a little easier to breathe, like he's not completely drowning anymore. He can gasp a little and his head feels a little lighter. It just feels a little bit better, just enough to give him hope that this isn't completely impossible. And he is so thankful for this, for you who's nodding off beside him, your head starting to fall onto his shoulder and he doesn't have it in him to leave you yet. You make him feel something good. Something warm that doesn't burn like sulfuric acid. You make him a type of whole again and it's a little selfish but he doesn't want to go yet. You keep him calm.

"Y/n?" Peter calls and you jerk back to reality, looking up to him with hooded eyes and raised brows.

"I'm just....I'm getting a little tired." Peter sucks in a nervous breath. "C-can we lay down....please?"

Your eyes widen as much as they can in your tired state, almost thinking you didn't hear him right but hoping you did. "Yeah, sure." You give him a gentle smile, moving to the other end of the couch so Peter can lay down and get comfortable and there's this space between him and the edge of the couch, like he's waiting for you to join him and he did say "we".

We is an invitation but he could have meant in general like the two of you on either side of the couch, how you usually fell asleep if you fell asleep in any of the living rooms. Maybe that's what he meant but maybe you should test the waters. He's looking at you and it's like he wants to ask you to lay with him but he doesn't know how. Like maybe he just can't bring himself to say the words. And he said we so you decide to ask instead of putting pressure on just moving.

"Can I lay with you?" You ask, voice a little shaky with nerves as you ask. "You're just really warm." Heat creeps onto your face. "I get cold." Your eyes are on Peter's, a blush creeps onto his cheeks as well, nodding and almost completely through the roof you asked because he did not have it in him to specify he wanted you to lay with him.

You move over to him and you make yourself comfortable with Peter's arm wrapping around your shoulder, one of your arms moving over his torso and your leg just barely laying on top of his, careful not to move it too close to the metal one. And it's like you both can just exhale with the position, wrapped in each other under a blanket in the middle of the night. Like you're both fully safe right here and right now, just the two of you against the world. How it used to be.

And your hand holds onto the loose fabric of his old t-shirt while you listen to his heartbeat, wondering if that's what Peter hears all the time with everyone. A constant string of thunder, some different from others. If so, you understand a little why he'd always be listening to yours because this, this is one of the most calming things you’ve ever listened to. Hearing his heartbeat as confirmation he's alive. He's breathing under you and it's like the most beautiful melody you’ve ever heard and you never want it to stop.

Peter's rubbing soft circles over your exposed shoulder, careful not to touch the scar, every now and again looking over to make sure he hasn't touched it before his attention goes back to the TV. And there's something comforting with doing it, just having you lay on him and his fingers just moving along your skin. It's been ages since he's had contact with someone, like this, and he's happy. For the first time since he doesn't know when, he feels happy. And Peter is so happy this is with you.

"You can touch it if you want." You whisper, your eyes barely open on the screen as you feel Peter look down to you. "The scar, I don't care. Doesn't hurt." The words are slightly slurred as they leave your lips, making Peter's heart swell.

In another world, maybe he would have kissed the top of your head and whispered something kind or loving but in this world, he doesn't. He just nods with only the hint of a smile and his eyes go to the scar, fingers lightly fanning over it. You drift off with every movement of his fingers and it's like this is a sign of hope, big and bright neon letters of hope and healing flashing above Peter.

A/n: Tags have been screwy lately so please, please, please reblog this to spread it around!!! You don’t have to comment or anything (although comments are amazing and I love them with my whole heart) just please, reblog as a signal boost!! Thank you in advance ❤

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[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 11 of it’s always ourselves we find is here!

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 

[kristanna / m / modern au / coworkers & enemies to lovers ;) ]

*note-- this is my second update today! please make sure to read chapter 10 first if you haven’t already :)

Anna hadn’t missed the way Kristoff’s eyes had trailed over her that morning when she’d emerged from the bathroom, how they’d widened at first in surprise before traveling from her bare legs to her exposed collarbone before landing at last on her own. The naked wanting in them, that was what had made her shudder, though mercifully he hadn’t seen.

It made her wish his hands had been so bold.

Even the memory of it now made sent a flash of heat rolling like thunder through her, the way it had when he’d taken such care to roll up the sleeves for her and then looked up at her with his eyes soft once more. 

She thought she’d been pushing it too far when she’d kissed his cheek that morning, but now she wasn’t so sure. She was taking far too long now changing into her bikini in the bathroom, but if she was being honest with herself, part of her was wishing he’d knock on the door, ask what was going on, give her the opportunity to fling the door open and see if his eyes darkened again when she--

“Anna?”

“Coming!” she squeaked, her cheeks flaming red as she finished tying the top on, thanking her past self for getting one with padding in it. She turned side to side for a moment, nervously inspecting herself and wondering if he’d mind how pale she was, before giving it up; like it or not, this was what he was getting.

(Assuming he wanted her like that, of course; perhaps she’d been misreading the whole situation-- friends could hold hands, couldn’t they?)

She shook her head to clear it and shrugged back into his shirt; it’d have to do for a coverup. She hadn’t really expected to have time to go down to the beach at all, not with this massive presentation in front of the whole company tomorrow, but it had gone so well her mind was still reeling. Kristoff’s was, too, she was sure, but there was something else plaguing him about it that he hadn’t yet seen fit to share with her.

When she stepped back into the main part of the hotel room, Kristoff was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing his swim trunks and a t-shirt. His eyes landed on the third button of the shirt-- left loose, so that the shirt gapped lower than it had while they were working-- and a rush of satisfaction flooded her when she saw that same hunger in his eyes when he looked back up at her face.

She dared to step closer then, enough that she could stand between his slightly spread knees. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped and tilted his head back to look up at her as she brushed some of his hair off his forehead.

“Ready?” she asked sweetly, wishing he’d reach out and touch her, too.

He nodded slowly, though it seemed he had no intention to move just yet. “I meant what I said this morning, Anna,” he said, his voice low.

“About what?”

“You keeping this shirt.”

It was her turn to be stunned into silence. If she was braver, she’d lean down and ask him can I keep this, too?, and see if he’d shift forward to press his lips against hers in a silent yes.

Instead she gave his shoulders a brief squeeze before stepping back. “It looks nice on you, too, though,” she said cheerfully as she slid on her sandals. “Maybe I’ll just have to get my own so we can have a matching set.”

“God, can you imagine what everyone would say if we showed up to the office like that on Monday? Matching outfits and everything?”

Anna laughed and picked up the room key before holding the door open for him. “Probably think we’d both lost our minds. Or that they had.”

“Your friends would pester you so much you wouldn’t get any work done.”

She elbowed him gently as he pressed the button to call the elevator. “Me? No, Kris, it’s you they’d be all over. They’d be so excited to find out maybe you weren’t always a grump.”

He glanced down at her as they stood side by side. “What will they say, do you think?”

Anna bit her lip as they stepped into the elevator together. “About what?”

He didn’t reply. She glanced over and saw he was red-faced. “C’mon, Anna,” he muttered. “I..don’t make me say it and embarrass myself if I’m wrong.”

“Oh,” she said, the word rushing out of her as she reached over to catch his hand. “I-- you’re not wrong, Kris, not at all. I was just worried maybe I was.”

He studied her expression for a moment before raising his free hand to cradle her cheek. “You’re not...this is real? You’re not fucking with me?”

She smiled and turned her head to kiss his palm. “I might have been lying about you being my least favorite person. You are still annoying as hell, though.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but the elevator dinged open just then, and they quickly jumped apart for fear that someone else might see them. It was a good thing they had; Hans was passing through just then, still carrying a beach towel slung over his shoulder as he sauntered through the lobby surrounded by his cohort of fellow salesmen.

“Slacking off, Bjorgman?” he called. “Risky move with that presentation tomorrow.”

Anna felt Kristoff bristle beside her. “Thanks for your concern, Hans,” she said cheerfully. “We did a dry run for your brother, actually, and it went so well we’ve decided to take the afternoon off. He’s great, Harry, isn’t he? Really glad I’ve been hearing more lately about him taking over for your grandfather.”

Hans’s eyes narrowed, all pretense of lightheartedness falling away. “Where did you hear that from?”

“Oh, you know,” she said, idly waving a hand. “Helps to have a sister in Harry’s office.”

Before he could utter another word, she floated past him, fluttering her fingers at the small crowd surrounding him. “Anyway, good luck with those sales numbers. Heard it’s been a rough quarter.”

And with that, she took off towards the door that led to the beach, head held high. After a few moments, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Kristoff was, in fact, following her. When she saw he was, a proud smirk on his face, and that Hans was out of sight, she grinned and held back her hand for him. 

He caught it quickly, lacing his fingers through hers as they stepped through the door together. It was strange, how familiar his hand had become to hers already, how she missed it when it was gone. It sent a thrill through her to wonder if soon she’d feel the same way about the rest of him.

“Anna?”

“Hmm?” she asked, looking up to see him wearing a thoughtful expression.

“How the hell did we get from picking at each other the whole way up here to this?”

She laughed at that and squeezed his hand the way that was quickly becoming a reflex. “I read one time that if you sleep next to someone, it immediately makes your relationship stronger, ‘cause it means you’re vulnerable around them or something. But also, I think it helps that I’ve already thought you were hot the whole time. And also, I hope you know I still plan to bicker with you, especially if you fuck up my stapler again.”

“That was your fault.”

“Was not!” she said, sticking out her tongue and pulling away from him as they drew closer to the water. “Oh, shit, neither of us thought to bring a blanket or anything, did we?”

“Nah, but we can just sit on the sand or something.”

“But then we’ll be all grainy in...places,” she whined, wrinkling her nose. 

To her surprise, he leaned down and kissed the tip of it. When he pulled away, her eyes were wide, and his cheeks were pink. “Sorry,” he breathed, “I just-- I love when you do that.”

“Cornball,” she said, though she said it with a smile. “Anyway, guess we’ll just have to play in the water, yeah?”

“It’s March. It’s still cold.”

“Wow, Bjorgman, didn’t take you for a chicken,” she teased, already turning away from him out of habit as she began to unbutton the shirt. 

“I’m not a chicken. I just like having feeling in my legs.”

“Excuses, excuses,” she sing-songed as she shrugged the shirt from her shoulders, glancing back at him. When she realized he was watching her every move, a sudden wave of nervousness overtook her, and she kept the shirt hanging over her elbows for a moment. “Don’t look at me.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you still have your shirt on, and it’s-- it’s not fair,” she stammered. 

Without any further encouragement, Kristoff reached behind his neck and tugged his t-shirt off in one motion. “There. Your turn.”

For a moment she stood wide-eyed and unmoving, drinking in the sight she’d imagined more times than she cared to admit, even now-- and god, it was so much better than anything her mind had conjured up. He noticed her staring and crossed his arms, and now she had the flex of his biceps to focus on, and how broad his shoulders were, and--

“Anna,” he said, feigning irritation. “Quit staring at me. It’s your turn.”

She let the shirt fall, turning slowly towards him, and it was his turn to be left speechless. She bit her lip, wondering if he liked what he saw, or if he was just blinded by how pale she was. Without waiting to find out, she took off running for the water, shouting for him to follow after.

He did after only a moment’s hesitation, shaking his head as he loped much more slowly over the sand. When he went out of habit to shove his hands into nonexistent pockets, Anna couldn’t suppress a giggle. 

She waded out until she had to stand on her tiptoes to keep her head above water. Something warm flashed through her when Kristoff came to stand beside her and she saw the waves didn’t quite reach to his shoulders. 

“When I was a kid and came down here,” he said, smiling when she set her hands on his shoulders to help keep her balance, “we couldn’t really afford beach toys and stuff. So we used to just jump right when the waves came and let them roll under us, and we pretended that was real surfing.”

Anna grinned up at him. “I didn’t know you had siblings.”

“I...yeah. Kind of, anyway. It’s a long story. Now it’s just me and my little sister Maggie. Well, and our parents.”

She tilted her head to the side, wondering if he’d offer any more information, but something had changed in his eyes, as if they were windows and he’d just pulled the shutters closed. “Will you show me how?”

“How what?”

“To jump on the waves like you said.”

And there his smile was again, easy and broad and bright, the one that made something in her chest ache in the best way. “Sure. But we can’t be out this deep, or else you’re not gonna be able to jump.”

“Are you calling me short?”

“No comment,” he said with a wink as he sloshed back a few steps towards the shore. When she joined him, he pointed towards an oncoming wave and said, “Okay, jump on one-- two-- three!”

She followed his lead, shrieking with delight when the wave swept under them both. Kristoff laughed at her reaction and reached under the water to grab her hand. “Have you really never done that?”

She shook her head. “We didn’t really do beach trips. We were more of a museum and ballet and cultural vacation family. But, to be honest, I like this way better.”

“Good, because another wave’s coming.”

She lost track of time standing and jumping beside him, still shrieking with exhilaration each time as Kristoff laughed and shook his head. And then, suddenly, her foot caught on something swept up by the tide, and she slipped and was pulled under. Half a second later, Kristoff’s hands were on her waist, pulling her upright again as she sputtered for air and shook her hair out of her eyes.

“You good?” he asked, concerned, as she grasped at his shoulders, suddenly overwhelmed by how sturdy they felt under her hands.

“My hero,” she breathed, any coherent thought banished from her mind at the realization of how large his hand felt on the bare curve of her waist.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, turning red as he began to pull away.

She only held on tighter, her own cheeks heating as the slight softness around his middle gave way to hard muscle beneath the press of her fingers. “No, I-- I’m not trying to tease you this time,” she said with a hurried shake of the head. “That was, um...that was really sweet of you.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the flush spreading down his neck now. Anna’s breath quickened as her eyes trailed downward with it, to the light coating of golden brown curls on his broad chest, and then to the trail of darker hair that disappeared below the waistband of his swim trunks. 

When she glanced up again, Kristoff’s eyes looked darker somehow. 

“Is this okay?” Anna asked softly.

“Is what okay?”

“Me, um…” 

She trailed off, letting her hands do the talking for her as they slid slowly up his sides before slinking over his shoulders to settle behind his neck. “This. Touching you.”

His hands moved-- a little more hesitant than hers-- to her back, keeping her close against him, enough that she could feel his breath even out until it was in time with hers. He leaned forward, just barely, enough that he could brush the tip of his nose against hers. 

Anna couldn’t help but smile at how tender the movement was, how utterly unlike anything she had ever expected him to do or be. “I’m starting to think that maybe you really don’t hate me after all, Kris,” she teased, letting her fingers stroke gently through the damp waves at the nape of his neck.

“Where’d you get a crazy idea like that, huh?” he murmured, letting his forehead fall against hers.

For a moment she considered replying, but then she thought better of it, angling her face just a little bit, enough that if he did the same--

“Bjorgman! There you are!”

Anna jumped back from him in surprise, her heart pounding at the thought of who might have just seen her on the verge of kissing the man who, as far as everybody else knew, was still her archenemy. Mercifully, it was only Greg, the oldest man in the office, cupping his hands around his mouth as he shouted, “Can you show me how to work the printer?”

“Be right there!” Kristoff shouted back, already moving back towards the sand.

Before he could get too far, Anna caught his hand beneath the water, lacing her fingers through his and giving it a squeeze. He looked back in surprise, and she offered him a shy smile. “See you at dinner?” she asked hopefully.

She’d never seen him grin so broadly.

[i-really-do]

I want to get back into writing and what better way to start with my guilty pleasure Yu-Gi-Oh 5D’s? I’ll be adding new one shots or whatever from time to time. I hope you have as much fun reading as I have writing.

Enjoy!

Prompt: Person A is a customer who is obsessed with the way Person B, a barista at a local coffee shop, makes their pumpkin spiced latte every morning.

By @olicitytropes

Don’t throw me away 

Every breath she took built small clouds around her face. She put her scarf further up her face. It was only October and she already felt the ice creeping up her bones. Every autumn she promised herself she would go back to Italy. At least for a week. And every winter she barely scraped by.  Her nose hurt when she sniffed. She could imagine how she looked. A woman tucked away under a jacket and a coat on top of that and a scarf which hid nearly her whole face. Her hands were in some thick cloth gloves. They made her hands at least 2 or 3 sizes bigger. And she had boots that reached all the way up to her knees.  The siberian marcher. That was her nickname every fucking winter. What can you do when you are used to much gentler autumn and winter days. In Italy winters meant 10 degrees plus not 30 degree minus.  Cordelia let out a deep sigh and regretted it in the next second. Her lungs filled with the icy air and it burned her inside out. The urge to cough rose quickly. She held it back. The burning cold air wobbled inside of her. Finally she caved. The coughing got so bad she had to stop on the street and just let it out. It felt like minutes until she could walk again. With her gloved hand she smeared across her face. She could feel all sorts of sticky stuff. Disgusted with herself she wept everything on her coat. But she could still feel something on her face. So she kept rubbing until she was certain it was gone.  Well as certain as someone with near frostbites could be.  She put her scarf back on and kept walking. The only good thing about this freaking weather was she could get any hold drink and not feel bad about the few bucks. Especially now shortly before Halloween she could get all the pumpkin spice latte. The barista was a nice plus. Just thinking of him made Cordelia a bit warmer. His hair was the best of him. It had the same orange colour as literal pumpkins and it was so messy. It didn’t seem like he ever combed it. She really wanted to touch it. A smirk formed under Cordelia's scarf. But she would have to be fast, because the staff would change in a few minutes. Reflexively she looked at her wrist. Her watch was buried under a ton of clothes. Forcing another sigh down her throat she began to walk faster. Finally she reached the entrance. There was barely anybody in there. Just the barista, his blonde coworker and two coffee drinkers who practically lived in their newspaper. Cordelia pushed the door open. The bell above made a faint tingle. The baristas were in the middle of a conversation and Cordelia nearly felt rude for interrupting it. When they heard the bell both turned and put on their best customer-is-always-right smile. Other than the forced smile you would never guess that they had been here the whole night. Well maybe they weren’t but the shop had insane operating hours so she just assumed.  “Oh wow did we get hit with a cold front in the last hour?”, the orange haired barista jocked. Cordelia never learned his name. 

Well, you could warm me up.

With a crooked grin she shoved the scarf a bit down. The warmth of the store burnt on her ice cold skin. “I can’t help it, this weather is a serious threat to my health”, Cordelia's voice was throughty and she sounded like a kids cartoon.  Both baristas looked at Cordelia as if she summoned an ancient marshmallow in front of their faces. She tried her best to clear her throat.  “Anyway”, said the orange haired man, “ehhh, you get a Pumpkin Spice Latte, right?” 

Yeah, I’m THAT basic.

 Cordelia noded. She didn’t dare to say another word. “Coming right up!” She moved over to the blonde one and paid for her drink. While she paid with her card, which she had already prepared, she spied over to the other worker. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but whenever he prepared a drink he put a tiny bit extra effort into it.  The way he slid across the floor to get the cup was the best and worst part of her day. Best, because she got to see him. Worst, because this was literally a highlight.  With a raised eyebrow the blond man looked down on her. He was at least one head taller than her. The man towered over her and everyone else. She didn’t notice the look he gave her, her attention still rested on the orange haired man.  If Cordelia had any guts she would ask for his name. But Cordelia didn’t have those. Instead she just starred.  As he poured the drink into a plastic cup the pumpkin scent filled the room. Everything got soaked. She unconsciously bit her lip in anticipation. Other than him working there was no sound or at least no sound which Cordelia paid any attention to.  The man turned around for a second, smiled at her and looked at his co-worker. She couldn’t place his facial expression. Was he pleading? “Say you don’t come from here, do you?”, the blond man’s voice took her out of the trance she basically was in. It took her a few seconds to register him. “Mh, eh no I-I grew up in Italy”, the stupid stammering came back. It always did, whenever she got surprised. She made a fist with one of her hands, well she tried to, but the cloth was simply too thick. Her fingers barely touched each other. “Oh, Italy! Never been there. How is it?” “A lot warmer, but not as friendly as here.” A smile formed on his face: “So why do you torture yourself in this weather?” 

Because I REALLY want to get into the pants of your co-worker.

 “At first studying, and now work. Beggars can’t be choosers”, she shrugged. “Well it’s nice to have such loyal customers especially at this hour”, the orange haired man walked over with her pumpkin spice latte in his hands. In his other hand he still had the pen.  “You really don’t have to write my name on the cup. I mean”, she gestured around, “who else could be getting a latte right now?” “Haha, it’s basically muscle memory at this point. Besides, Cordelia is a beautiful name.” 

Show SOME guts!

 She smiled at him brightly.  At this point she would always run. How often was she at a similar point? Maybe a dozen times. Nothing would ever change. She would walk out that door. Not a tiny bit closer to learning his name or anything about him. Cordelia would always stay the same. Except when she didn’t. “Say, I never asked for your names. Would you mind telling me?”, her voice was shaking a bit. But she did it. She asked THE question.  Both looked surprised.  “Sure, I’m Jack and this is Crow”, the blonde one spoke.  Crow looked, smirked at her and his eyes seemed bigger than before.  “Jack, Crow”, she nodded at both of them”, the morning is a pleasure with baristas like you. See you tomorrow.” As a farewell she held the cup high and cheered to them. In the next second she pulled the scarf up her face and walked out the door.  Just as she was walking out the next shift walked in. Cordelia stayed and held the door open. It was a red haired woman and a black haired guy with yellow streaks. She always wondered if they were coloured or natural. Both smiled politely. Their eyes were nearly closed and the woman yawned while she walked to the back of the store.  Behind Cordelia she could hear Jack and Crow whispering. She could not make out the words. Cordelia didn’t look back. If the next shift was already there she had to move it. Otherwise she would come late to the morning huddle. And her boss was always pissed when he had to wait for someone.  With big steps she made her way through the people who slowly emerged from their hibernation.  ------- A big sigh left her lips as she finally dropped into her office chair. Cordelia was tempted to kick off her shoes and call it a day. But it was barely 9 am.  She made it on time. But she had to run a few meters and that really sucked all of her life out of her. Her only saving grace was another co worker who came in late. Otherwise the boss would have roasted her.   As she sipped on the latte a loud gurgling noise came from it. The smell of pumpkin vanished completely. Now only the stench of plastic remained.  When did she drink all of that? Disappointed she put the drink at the edge of her desk. The cleaning lady was going to come through any minute and she was nice enough to throw it away immediately.    Without looking Cordelia pulled out her laptop, started it, put in her headphones and put on her reading glasses. Within seconds she was working on some numbers. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she entered new numbers and deleted some old ones.  This was her zone. She could work for hours like this. The time would fly by and then she could get home, shower and- “Excuse me.” Cordelia nearly jumped out of her chair as a hand tapped her shoulder.  

Motherf-

 She pulled on the cord and her earphones popped out. The music was faintly hearable. Some stupid love song was playing. The cleaning lady looked at her a bit frightened. With a sharp breath Cordelia let go of the tension and she hoped it would be done soon.  “What is it?”, the words still came out harsher than she wanted. She formed a smile, but it felt fake so she quickly dropped it. “I-I just wanted to ask if you saw the message on the cup”, the cleaning lady held the empty cup up. 

Probably my name, you…

 “What message do you mean?” The cleaning lady smiled at her. “You might want to keep it.” Before Cordelia could protest the cup was shoved into her hands and the lady scooted off.  “Okay what’s so special?”, she murmured to herself. As she turned to the message she saw there were two lines.  The first one was short and the second one long.  Cordelia’s eyes got wide. Within seconds her face turned red she could feel the heat that suddenly radiated from her cheeks. And a small giggle escaped her lips. The best present of the year. And she nearly threw it away.  Without thinking she pulled out her phone. Her fingers were slippery and she had to double check the number on the screen.  She quickly saved the number and let the phone slip into her pocket. Right now she couldn’t text. Her boss was pissed enough as it was.  But lunch was coming quickly. With a big stupid grin on her face she returned her attention to her work. At some point she started to hum and time didn’t move quite like it should have. ----- Once it was finally time for her lunch she slumped back. Her earphones already laid on the table and her glasses joined them after a second. She practically threw them.  The last 3 hours felt like a whole work week. The time barely moved, because she was very deep in her thoughts and still managed to look at the clock every other second.  Her work was boring as always. The thing that occupied her mind was: What would she write?  “Hi” ?“The frozen italian girl here” ?“Could I come over and you warm me up?”  So many possibilites to fuck this up.  Her coworkers dissolved around her. Nobody stayed in the building. Everybody went out. Well everyone except Cordelia. Slipping into her 2 layers was too much of a hassle for a 45 minute break.  She pulled out her phone and nervously tapped on it. The screen looked like a disco. Going on and out in seconds. She still had no idea what to write, but she didn’t want to wait any longer.  Well, she could simply call.   An evil grin spread across her face.  

Why not go all in and make a video call? What’s the worst that could happen?

 She pushed the images that crept into her mind down way down. If that should happen she would need to find a new coffee shop. Or even better a new place to work. But she was pretty certain that wouldn’t happen. At least she hoped.  God what was she thinking? Cordelia had made up her mind and walked into the bathroom. Fixed her hair and got rid of some slightly smeared makeup. Next she scouted a nice spot where she wouldn’t be bothered.  She decided on one of the break rooms. It had a nice painting on the wall.  

Maybe he will think I have a life outside of the coffee shop and work. Haha. Who am I kidding?

 With one last exhale she started the call.  Ringing once Ringing twice Ringing th- “Give me a second”, that was Crow’s voice followed by some rumbling. Nothing could be seen on screen. After a few seconds a light flashed across the screen a strand of his orange hair came into frame.  “I didn’t expect a video”, his voice was barely audible but he sounded impressed. Well at least that’s what Cordelia heard.  She just smiled awkwardly at the camera.  Crow pulled something over his head and then he finally picked up the phone.  He looked more sleepy than a few hours ago. His hair was tangled and messier than before. But his smile was still the same. Bright and crooked. For a second she felt her cheeks getting all hot again. “Were you not afraid you could see...you know?”, he walked around the room and kept looking away from the camera. There was some noise in his background, but Cordelia couldn’t hear anything clearly. “Well if I had seen HIM, I could have easily decided if we should skip the dating part and go straight to…” 

WHAT THE HELL JUST FELL OUT OF MY MOUTH?

 Cordelias hand went up to her face and she covered her mouth.  WHOOPS. Crow’s end was silent, but his phone shook violently. The background noises were dead as well. “If you are cursing at me or something, I can’t hear you, you are muted.” In a split second hell broke loose on the other end. Cordelia looked unsure. She couldn’t make out a single noise. After a few moments it got quiter. There was laughter. So many different people laughing.  

Oh no.

 Crow came back into frame. In his eyes were tears and he still was shaking from all the laughter. “Well, eh, I don’t mean to brag but.... I’d prefer we don’t skip the dating thing, because man....” He wiped a tear out of his face. “If you don’t take her I’ll do it!”, a voice from somwhere in the background shouted. “Shut up”, Crow looked away from the camera, still laughing. “So what do you say?”, he asked Cordelia. Cordelia suppressed a grin as she answered: “Coffee?” The smile on his face froze a bit and he looked like a wet cat. “Geez, that was a joke.” He immediately sighed with relief: “You’re a little jokester, he. I know a comedy club. I might get us tickets for this weekend.” “Sounds good” “Perfect! Let’s meet at the Greenhill cinema. Do you know where that is?” “Sure. See you.” “See ya” The call ended abruptly. Cordelia bit on her lip. That was way different than what she had imagined. Way better... “Task failed successfully”, Cordelia giggled at herself.

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

Well there you have it. My first one shot in FOREVER. (literal years) I would be very happy to hear your opinion! Thanks for reading. 

Notes:

Yeah Jack is pretty ooc because he is ACTUALLY useful working. That's what AU's are for.

[pintofteaforthesoul]

Bodyguard AU (A World Apart) Part 10- FINAL

Here it is folks. Thanks for staying for the ride.

~~~

The blackness was deafening and everything ached. Jude didn’t know the day, the hour, the minute… It was nothing. She rolled to her back and her companion immediately took notice. “Jude.” Cardan’s voice was grating, barely even a voice at this point. “Jude, please.”

But she didn’t answer, the roar in her ears too loud. After several moments of eternity, she murmured so softly if there had been a breeze in the room, it would’ve drowned them out, “You’re one of them.”

Jude could feel the chasm stretch between them. She hadn’t mentioned it yet- the revelation that had rocked her to her core, that had revealed everything Cardan had spent 5 years to forget apparently. Though she couldn’t see him, a part of her knew he was trying to figure out what to say. Eventually, he replied, “Yes.”

“You’re from Elfhame.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” Cardan sounded unsure, not of the answer but of the direction she was heading in.

“We…” Jude couldn’t say it.The words were there in her throat, but she couldn’t speak life into them. She wouldn’t. Jude switched tact. “You’re Fae?” Even that word felt odd to say out loud.

Cardan drew a long breath. “What you think you know isn’t the truth, Jude. Elfhame… it didn’t fall. When Dain became king, he dissolved the islands. The war with mortals was a lie… a front so Dain could gain more power.”

“And to keep us apart.” The words were a rattle.

And that’s when he told the story, the full story. How they met, the fight for the crown, their engagement, everything. And as he went on, Jude found herself in even more disbelief. She supposedly grew up in Elfhame. Laying on that cold concrete, she felt her mind grow heavier with each morsel of information.

After several breaths that made her chest heave, Jude began to push herself off the floor. Her head spun, throbbing as if a hammer was being slammed into her temples. “We have to get out.”

Cardan couldn’t see her, but he could definitely hear her movements. “Not without help.”

Jude’s arms wobbled but held firm. “I don’t care.” The words were a growl and there was a soft intake of breath from Cardan. “We’re getting out and taking that damn crown off Dain’s head.”

~~~

In mere moments, the war had been planned. Even without her memory, Jude was fierce and calculated. Cardan was in awe of her as she whispered to him exactly what they were to do and how. It reminded him just why he’d fallen in love with her in the first place.

They waited for Dain to make a mistake, one so small that no one else could have noticed it but Jude. Then she pounced, like a lioness on her prey. She’d noticed a different foot pattern to the boy who finally delivered them food- an obvious task too mundane for Dain.

Jude had her long legs around his neck in a second and the boy never stood a chance- one crack was all it took to make him fall. The rest of Jude’s plan Cardan heard more than saw- Jude somehow able to acquire the keys to their chains and before long both of them were back on solid ground.

Jude tripped on something and Cardan caught her- mostly out of reflex. Even in the dim shadows that barely allowed him to see her face, she was beautiful to him, and under the layers of dirt and blood was the scent that could only be Jude. She shrugged him off more awkwardly than she would ever admit and Cardan held out hope that she could find love for him again. But first, they had to get out of this shithole.

With his better eyesight and overall condition, it was clear Cardan should lead the way, but Jude would hear none of it. She knocked on the door as she’d heard the delivery boy do and the guard who opened it didn’t even let out a breath of shock as he died.

Cardan slithered along in the shadows as Jude took out guard after guard without even breaking a sweat. She kept mumbling to herself, something so low even he could not make it out.

When the first fresh breath of air touched Cardan’s lungs, he almost wept with relief. The pungent odor of New York was tainted with Dain’s magic, as it had been since their arrival, but even that could not quench his renewed spirit.

“Come on.” Jude murmured, all business, “They’ll be looking for us.”

She started to pull him in a direction, and Cardan asked, “Do you have a place to go?”

Now with the light of the streetlamps to guide them, Cardan saw Jude’s lower lip curl under her teeth. “No, but anywhere is better than here.”

Cardan stepped in front of her, taking the lead in a new direction, “I know a place we can go.”

~~~

The club Cardan led them to was packed, Jude noticed first, filled with the cloying scent of body sweat mixed with perfume and alcohol. The bouncer didn’t even blink, letting Cardan pass without issue even with the mess they probably looked. When the crowd thickened, Cardan reached back for Jude’s hand and Jude tried to resist the thump her heart gave when their skin touched- she almost succeeded too.

Whatever they had been wasn’t what they were now, she had to remind herself. That was in the past and they couldn’t go back. Memories or no. She couldn’t help but notice the new way Cardan was looking at her- now that she knew the truth. It made her stomach ache that she could not give it back to him.

Eventually Cardan lead them into an office and shut the door, the music from the club being practically silenced. Jude immediately let out a breath and started to move towards one of the chairs in front of the desk before she saw Cardan shake his head. “There’s a bathroom over there, shower and everything,” He pointed to the side wall, “I’ll try to find you something else to wear.”

Jude rushed off, eager to get the grime and blood off of her skin. Her dress was in tatters already, so slipping it off took only a moment before she was able to enter the somehow immediately-hot shower. The soap provided smelled of lavender and the shampoo of honeysuckle, releasing Jude of the pent-up tension she’d found herself stuck in. At one-point Cardan knocked on the door, saying her new clothes were hanging on the handle, but Jude was content to let herself waste away to a prune.

Not even a moment later, another knock came and Cardan’s voice calling, “Do I get to shower too or are you going to be in there all night?” There was a tune of amusement laced to his words that made Jude smile and butterflies erupt in her stomach.

After several heartbeats, she called out, “You’re welcome to join me!” The words made her heart race and the silence on the other end of the door was deafening.

Slowing the door creaked open to reveal one of Cardan’s eyes. “You are joking, aren’t you?”

Jude slid the glass door covered with steam to the side, revealing her naked body. She gave him the hottest look she could manage with a black eye and bruises, tilted her head and said, “Do I look like I’m joking?” Cardan’s eyes went wide, a dumbstruck expression glued on his face. Jude sneered at him. “Well?”

That made him move. Cardan entered the bathroom, closing the door in a whoosh, and took a deep breath of the steam- his back against the door. With slow steps, as if Jude herself would disappear from his view, Cardan made his way over to her.

He stepped in the shower, clothes and all, and let the steaming water soak through him. Instead of roving her body, his eyes stayed on hers. They devoured whatever they saw there, and deemed something okay.

Water drenched down his hair, making the jet black look as endless as the night sky. The apple in Cardan’s throat bobbed, as if he were struggling with something. After several moments of the only sound being hissing water and their shared breath, Cardan murmured, “Do you remember the first time I ever kissed you?” His tone is pained, as if the water had melted the iron of his rough exterior.

Jude can only shake her head, unable to give him the answer he clearly wants.

Cardan closes his eyes briefly. “You’re not my Jude... The one I grew up with, the one I teased and made fun of until you couldn’t take it anymore. The Jude who looked me in the eye and finally saw me.” Jude can barely take a breath as Cardan’s hands come up to hold her face. It’s gentle in a way no else had been with her before. “When I realized what Dain had to you… to my Jude… I felt my world crashing down around me. Elfhame fell and I didn’t care, no… I only cared about you. My Jude.” His thumbs wiped away the water from Jude’s face- and she didn’t know whether it was from the showerhead or from her tears. “Every damn day in this city I wanted to go to you- to look into your eyes and see whatever you saw in me that made me worthy of your love. And I could never conjure up the nerve… until now I suppose. Little help it does me. Whatever look you had, it’s gone.”

Jude couldn’t stand the heartbroken look in Cardan’s eyes. “I could be that Jude again, she’s not gone.”

Now it was Cardan’s turn to shake his head. “I don’t want you to be. We live in the world Dain created now, pawns to his game. He’s going to try to kill us. Today. Tomorrow. I can’t control that. There’s only one thing I can control. What I do now.” Cardan leaned forward the short distance to make their lips barely touch. It was chaste, a kiss barely there that made her knees weak and heart fly into her throat. A kiss that begged for more, but was unwilling to give.

And just like that his lips were gone, and Jude was left feeling empty. She hadn’t even realized her eyes had closed until she opened them and Cardan wasn’t there anymore- as if he were a ghost.

Tagging: @andromeddea, @landofpetrichor, @ladyof-starlight , @cute898, @fangirlinghard-spoilerson, @cardans-tail, @nitrot150, @outofstyles13, @an-teo520, @wickedqueenoffantasy, @afexiss, @gently-say-aha, @fangirling101, @ashlightgrayson, @mis-lil-red, @gamer670, @lost0nline, @somebodysqueen @queen-greenbriar, @vi0let-femmes

[pffbts]

Hey loveee, can I request for an imagine where yoongi tells me what this year could just be another year of suffering,but only good things will come out of it? I hope this doesn't sound to werid or bad or anything, it's mainly for comfort if I were to be honest with u. Love u!!

―genre: fluff; angst; crack.

―characters: yoongi x female reader | no supporting character.

―w.c: 2.6 K

―author`s note: on the eve of the day before turning 19, i somehow felt connected to this request – somehow it felt close to heart. thank you to the beautiful anon who requested this. i hope i can touch you through my words. consider this as my birthday treat for you! much love

[11:53 PM] [the sakuras scattered under the wholesome night sky filled with stars for a new season, someone under the warm fuzzy blanket squeezes another`s]

― as usual, the warm baby blue coloured blanket smelled of you. yoongi`s face contorted to a smile getting born under the board daylight through the windows of his room. he called each night with you an unfinished business due at some corner of his existence. this was difficult. time has always been difficult with min yoongi. taking a toll on his words and thoughts, he flourishes in the thoughts that he might try again, just for the sake of you. getting up and on reflex feeling the strain of his neck, yoongi groaned at the warm sunlight which suddenly felt like balls of fire against his pale skin.

he couldn`t be too forward with you but he wanted to try again – try telling you that this new year that awaits for you will come in terms of normality. he wanted to wish that this year of 19 would turn somehow better than ever. this is the year both of you are graduating from school and as the seasons greets, soon you`ll be in some university probably away from each other.

he searched for his phone to catch the time. it read 08:45 AM. shoot, yoongi hissed, he has already wasted a number of precious hours lying on his futon thinking about skin damage and anxiety of being around you.

while taking a warm shower, yoongi started washing the skin of his hands, his chest – half of his face got clouded when he heard an imaginary you clutching onto your stomach and laughing at his skin treatment. ugh, what do you understand about skin treatment and keeping things clean? mindlessly, he showered successfully.

walking out of his house, he was greeted by a cloudy sky and the floating of the cherry blossoms in the air.

“so tomorrow`s spring, huh?”

yoongi looked to his left to find you in your long tracks, blue t-shirt and a cap, kicking the closest cherry blossom tree at its base. sighing internally, yoongi wondered, how can someone like you be born on the starting of people`s favourite season – spring?

“yes! aren`t you relieved?” yoongi started, walking towards you.

“not exactly. it`s just another season.”

of course, you wouldn`t be excited. yoongi knew it all along. it was just for a second he thought you might answer something different this time. after all, it`s your 19th birthday the next day which also according to this year`s calendar schedule is the starting of spring.

“we don`t have to suffer the extreme cold. that`s a relieve factor.” then, sizing up his thoughts, yoongi proceeded with the next words, “but someone here likes the cold too much, i guess.”

“yoongi.”

“yes, yes. i know. don`t get so worked up.”

typically as long as yoongi`s vivid memory goes, you were not completely this cold all the time. not until the death of your parents in a plane crash came down on you. it`s been exactly ten years since your 9th birthday that you`ve heard the heart-wrenching news of their death. before that very day, you were just like any other girl of the neighbourhood who liked flowers, who liked tying her hair in pretty braids. yoongi recalled how you loved the french braids the most. you were just like any other person who liked wearing the traditional outfits for any special occasion. you were like any other person who waited for spring to come because then you also get to celebrate it along with your birthday.

but the 9th year of your life made your world upside down and you ran back to your room waiting for a storm to come and blow you away. you walked away from yourself, from being any other normal human being. you started cutting your hair off, wearing boyish clothes, threw away your pretty sandals and opted for sneakers and vans. slowly, you erased everyone`s memory of the you which they saw growing up since the baby days.

10 years later, you`re still the same and the only one who accepted you for what you were and for what you became was yoongi – the next door boy who grew up along with you, going to the same class in the same school.

yoongi tried saying it every year during this time that the next year will bring something different. but every time he did he would get the cold shoulder from you in return resulting in his successful failure. the spirits of spring sigh every year at his efforts and showers his front yard with cherry blossoms just to console his aching heart.

“yoongi?” a hand which previously looked like fog started becoming clearer in front of his vision. jumping on his feet, yoongi shot a stunt look at you. “where are you, yoon?”

“earth.”

“better. i thought you teleported yourself to Neptune.”

suddenly yoongi realized, the still presently aged 18 years old you have started walking with your back facing him at a distance.

“wait! where are you going? wait for me!”

yoongi ran. as fast as he could to catch up with the same story he writes each year. this year he wanted you to remember that things do change and when they do, the sun won`t suddenly feel like the sun, instead, it would feel like the planets have gathered up for a casual visit with you. when it happens, he`ll always go back to you even if it breaks his heart.

*

“next spot – karaoke!” a red-faced, half-drunk in soju yoongi announced. sipping the regular coke from the straw, you shook your head disapproving of his plan in silence.

even though his face dropped, he demanded an explanation. then he told you to forget about giving an explanation instead he started lecturing you about how you`re just wasting the youthful days of your life and that you`re already someone in their 60s. then he proceeded to tease you about how your grandparents with whom you live at present are much more joyful than you.

slamming the cup of coke with a force on the spot of the table in front of you, you got up from your seat and pointed a strict finger at the middle of your friend`s brows.

“because unlike you, min yoongi, you`re still living the life.” pulling the finger away, you stared into his wide feline-like eyes, “consider me dead at this point, hun. i`ve been dead for the last ten years, okay? don`t try to do something that`s universally impossible to gain.”

stories. min yoongi has been writing stories for a long time. each year he tries to erase half of their sentences and joins new words to make up for all the things he missed out the previous years. every year he collects sakuras and tried to make it into something of some shape. but then your words strike his motive and he realizes, sakuras are not clay and even clay can`t form any shape if we don`t have waters.

somehow he wants to talk it out with you. but every word that gets thrown to the air in-between both of you, they build up to that moment of rebel where they break apart from your force.

the view in front of him turned into a fog but his ears were still untempted and so he heard the loud, frantic footsteps of your boots on the wooden floor retreating back to the exit and slowly as the sound fades in the air, his vision clears and he finds himself with his forehead resting against the table, his shoulders shaking.

“boys don`t cry, yoon!” a seven-year-old you once said that to him when yoongi fell on the gravel path while coming home from school and got a scratch on his knee. the blood which was seeping out looked too bright on his pale skin.

yoongi`s fist slammed the table beside his head and he felt the warm tears overflowing from his eyes. you always had it wrong. min yoongi always cried because somehow he still couldn`t find how to save you. he has been a useless human being in your life. maybe, maybe it wouldn`t even matter. even if he leaves the town, maybe you`ll not even miss him.

so he cried. if he`s the one who should be crying in that case then he will.

*

yoongi ran back to you – his eyes red, his emotions out of line and the stories flying here and there. tonight as the town closes in for the preparation of the new season tomorrow, he wants to let you know everything. everything that he has to build up till to this day. he is going to throw all his intuitions and his old, crappy stories. he`s going to write to a new verse, new poems celebrating them with you, even if that mean it would receive silence and empty gaps of air from you.

pulling out his phone from his pant`s pocket and almost stumbling into his room, he texted you to come over. this could go anywhere, yoongi knew this very well. but he still went for it.

after the longest ten minutes in the world, you came into his room and sat Indian style in front of his bed, your shoulder blades pressed against the mattress and wood. a half-asleep yoongi got up from his place in bed and sat there facing the same wall, almost mimicking your posture.

“if you called me to confess about your deep-shit feelings for me, then let me inform you, i`m not into dicks.”

yoongi squeaked at this new out of no-where information from you.

“you`re gay?” lunging forward yoongi tried reading your expression which was really difficult as it was only moonlight in his room. “when did this happen?”

“i`m kidding, idiot.” you replied, your voice sounds like it`s already bored telling the same thing repeatedly.

“thanks jesus. you almost gave me a stroke.”

yoongi, suddenly remembering what was his initial plan, he jolted up, sitting back straight and cleared his throat, “anyway, you can somehow call this a confession too but it`s not anything romantic just so you know.”

“yes, i remembered saying that i would cut your dick off if you ever leak your romantic juice on me, so i guess i can trust you on that.”

jeez,  yoongi squeezed his eyes shut for a second, this conversation has already turned into a dark fiction. he just wanted to stay true to his feelings and not get threatened of getting his dick cut off. this girl, he sighed.

“i just…just listen to me out, okay?” he started still questioning. why was he still questioning himself? he didn`t know obviously because he has always been the bad one in accepting the reality, i guess. “i`m not saying this because you`re turning 19 in one hour.”he knew, he just knew that you had glanced at the digital clock sitting on his cupboard pushed against the same wall both of you were facing. not even giving himself a chance to smile, he continued, “i`m just telling you that, you`ll probably suffer a lot this year. maybe this year pain will come in many different ways – much different than the way it had always come at you, at us. but you must know that there will always be a sunray trying to battle its way through the dark clouds. there`ll always be a flower which will bloom in the sidewalks just to let the passerby know that they exist too.”

“let`s just say that we will definitely suffer a lot and that we will cry a lot. maybe not you. maybe it will mostly be me, but i`ll cry a lot. i promise even if it`s for both of us. i hope you know that there are some people in your life who still wants you to live and exist like any other person in the world. i want to tell you that you`re not dead to me, instead, you`ve always been more than alive to me than anyone in my world. of course i love you. i love you a lot to not let you suffer alone because just know that anywhere you go, i`ll go with you. if you find solace in your washroom, crying silently then i`ll be there on the other side of the door, crying with you. if you ever want to laugh even if it is all silly and not needed, i`ll laugh with you.”

yoongi`s voice rose with each passing second, his voice almost grew numb at the choice of words and the emotions that they carried but then he felt light in his chest. for the first time this year, on this last hour of pre-spring, last hour of his friend`s 18th year, he wasn`t making up white lies instead he was overflowing with emotions. he could almost feel himself floating in them.

you, on the other hand, were scared. you were scared for yoongi`s next words and mostly scared to look at his face. because you believed that if you stare at him now, you will lose your sight. he must be glowing right now. he must have become the brightest thing in this room right now and you were scared for the first time to meet his eyes.

“so, yes. i love you, a lot. maybe you`ll get a boyfriend after you leave for college and then a husband after that but this fool right here will always love you and it`s not romantic, okay? you understand? this is not romantic.”

yoongi didn`t even put you in the seat of mercy. he just let you be what you wanted under his gaze and when you got up from your place, screaming, your face tainted with overflowing warm tears, you hit him hard everywhere you could. falling against his bed, both of you cried like there was no tomorrow. you cried with everything that you got. it was like giving birth to a new life, it was like chicks hatching out of their shell – you felt the pain seeping out of you and another set of lungs being replaced in place of the old ones cause they couldn`t function. they weren`t capable of the pain that shot through you.

*

the clock on his cupboard read 11:53 PM. seven minutes and it will be a new spring. a new day, a new year for the person soundly sleeping beside him, your head resting on the expanse of his chest, your hand resting on the side of his right cheek and another entangled with yoongi`s. the blankets lost the battle to you and to min yoongi, the new cherry blossoms that fell in his front yard looked like heaven`s call for a year that would bring the best spring of your life.

at the end of the day, you are the only spring that matters to him.

[squirenonny]

[whispers] soulmate au where you can steven universe style fuse with your soulmate(s)

*star eyes* Oh my gosh I love this idea!

So.

Everyone is born with a gem/precious stone (or sometimes a metal or mineral that wouldn’t normally be considered a gemstone) somewhere on their body. This isn’t a full-on gemsona situation, but gemstones as this AU’s soulmark equivalent.

There’s a hereditary component to what gem you get, but it’s not simple inheritance. (i.e. You have a higher probability of having the same gem as one of your parents, and some family lines run relatively pure, but it’s also common to share a gem with a more distant relative, or to have something your family hasn’t seen in recent generations)

Gems come in “families,” so even if a certain bloodline runs pure, there’s still going to be a little variation. For example, the beryl family–beryl, emerald, aquamarine, heliodor, ect–are very closely related. Hunk’s family tends toward beryl gems.

On that topic:

Hunk has a heliodor (a stone associate with warmth and sunshine) on his chest [example of a heliodor]

Pidge has a malachite (associated with nature and supposedly good at preventing sensory overload) at the nape of her neck [example of malachite]

Matt has a goethite (associated with grief and raw emotion, often found with malachite deposits) on the inside of his wrist [example of goethite]

Shiro has a black opal (associated with karma and the cosmos, and often thought to bring misfortune despite also being regarded as a healing stone; the black variant is notable for the stark contrast with the blues, greens, reds, and yellows contained within) at his collarbone [example of a black opal]

Lance has a turquoise (associated with luck and ambition, but also unity and leadership, and said to confer protection if given to you by a friend) on the back of his left hand [example of turquoise]

Keith has a vein of luxite (the metal in his mother’s blade, and not something anyone on Earth recognizes) across his right palm. He wears his gloves in part to hide it.

Theoretically, anyone can fuse with anyone else, but the vast majority of fusions are unstable. There’s no way to tell who can form a stable fusion with whom until it happens

The official definition of “soulmate” is “a pair or grouping that can remain fused indefinitely.” Since it’s obviously impossible to prove that you can stay fused forever, and since most unstable fusions fall apart quickly, the cutoff is often set at five minutes. Any people who can stay fused longer than that are considered soulmates (if they choose to label themselves that way.)

There’s also no way to tell from gems or from the fusion itself if the bond is romantic or platonic. You’d have to ask the people involved.

That doesn’t stop people from coming up with a millions theories anyway. (”Romantic partners always have the same gem!” “Romantic partners NEVER have the same gem!” “Platonic partners will always have gems in the same family!” “There are romantic sets–but good luck reaching an agreement on what the sets are.”)

Fusions look just like regular people with a few exceptions: they’ll have 2+ gems, but depending on placement you might not be able to tell; their eyes will usually be banded the colors of members of the fusion, but you have to look closely to notice; and there will sometimes be additional markings in the colors of the gems, often forming a trail connecting the two gems.

Other than those minor physical differences, fusions are also notably different if you look at brain scans. They don’t generally maintain two (or more) separate consciousnesses, but they retain the knowledge, memories, and capabilities of the people involved, and they tend to have much higher levels of brain activity on any given task. Fusions who are familiar with their fused state tend to be more dexterous, have better reflexes, and be physically stronger than their unfused counterparts, and they tend to solve problems more quickly and more efficiently.

The rest of this (i.e. the Voltron ‘verse story) is going under a cut because this is already long.

Matt and Shiro accidentally fused one day during training for the Kerberos mission. They were completing a simulation where the engines had failed halfway to Kerberos and life support was flickering. Very high pressure situation and all that. Sam was “injured” for the purposes of the simulation–able to give advice over the radio, but confined to the “med bay” (control booth where Iverson was supervising). Matt and Shiro got into a rhythm, to the point that they didn’t immediately realize they’d fused. It wasn’t until they couldn’t get Sam to respond to one of their questions–they thought it was part of the simulation and his condition had turned critical or something, and Matt turned to ask Shiro if he had repairs in hand so Matt could go check on Sam, and then suddenly it hit them.

The mission control team was ecstatic about this development–fusion-capable teammates are a huge advantage to any crew, and Shiro and Matt proved to be highly stable. They had to undergo special training and classes about when it is and isn’t appropriate to fuse during a mission–it’s a matter of balancing hands to cover all stations with the enhanced capabilities of the fusion–and how to make sure their personal relationship didn’t become a liability, but they were just as giddy about it as Iverson and the others.

They weren’t fused when they were captured, and they were kept in different cells prior to the Arena, but when they were led to the vestibule and Matt was told he was going to be fighting first, Shiro fused with him on instinct. The other prisoners instantly backed against the walls, and the guards came with strange weapons that disrupted the fusion, forcing Shiro and Matt apart–apparently fusions are a highly revered part of Galra battle culture, and prisoners are too crude to be allowed to take part.

The force de-fusion left them both reeling. Shiro recovered first, using the pain and confusion as an excuse to lash out at Matt, wounding him and keeping him out of the Arena. (Matt, still dazed at the time, looked horribly betrayed by the act, and Shiro always wondered whether Matt thought Shiro really meant it.)

Fusion is actually a fairly common thing, though most people find it too inconvenient to do it frequently, or else haven’t found anyone they have a stable fusion with. First fusions usually happen either with family around 10-12 years old or with friends/partners in the early to mid teens, and in both cases are usually highly unstable and last only a few seconds.

Lance first fused with an older cousin when he was ten (it’s happened once or twice since, but never lasted more than a minute)

Hunk first fused with Lance when he was 13 (by their third or fourth fusion, they’d stabilized, and after going to space they often fuse just to feel less alone)

Pidge first fused with Matt when she was 9 and he was teaching her how to build a robot (they stayed fused until the robot was done, about two hours later, at which point Sam walked in, asked how long they’ve known they could fuse, and got a blank look in return.)

Shiro first fused with his twin brother when they were 11 (they’re very inconsistent–they have been fused for an hour at a time, but just as often they’ll immediately split apart, and they aren’t entirely sure why except that sometimes being fused makes them feel further apart than sticking to their same old rhythms.)

Keith didn’t fuse until he was 16 and had known Shiro for about a year. Keith had picked a fight with another student at the Garrison, Shiro came along to break it up, and they ended up accidentally fusing, which scared the shit out of the other cadet. Shiro and Keith’s fusion barely lasted thirty seconds, mostly because Keith was freaked out by the whole experience–he’d honestly started to think he wasn’t capable of fusion with anyone. They fused a few more times (with more success) either so that Shiro could show Keith how to fly the simulators or because Keith wanted to take Shiro out into the desert on his cheap-ass hoverbike, which really was only built to hold one.

Hunk and Shay fused, briefly, during the battle for the Balmera. Hunk uses the fact that they fell apart after about two minutes to prove to Pidge that they aren’t in love (and Pidge doesn’t need to know that they fused again later and made it to ten minutes before they both got bashful and de-fused.)

During Crystal Venom, Allura kinda accidentally fused with the ship’s crystal? It’s really, really not supposed to work that way, but Alfor’s AI tricked her into thinking she was fusing with him, and… yeah. Turns out the lions can mimic fusion (in fact, that’s what the Voltron itself drew inspiration from). The five lions force themselves partway into Allura’s fusion with the castle, destabilizing the whole thing and allowing Allura to come back to herself so she can break Alfor’s memory core and save them all.

During The Black Paladin, Keith partially fuses with Red, and Zarkon tries to force a fusion with Black. It doesn’t work, but the attempt leaves Shiro shaken and Black reluctant to fuse with Shiro at all, at least until the events of Space Mall. On the astral plane, Shiro and Black fuse (spiritually, if not physically) and cast Zarkon out for good.

Ulaz also has luxite as his gem–it’s relatively common for Galra, and that in combination with the blade that matches Keith’s makes him very, very nervous about what he’s going to learn about himself when he goes to the Blade headquarters. He hasn’t fused with Shiro since Shiro came back, and he still hasn’t managed to fuse with anyone–despite Pidge and Hunk managing it briefly once when they were working on the lions, Shiro and Allura fusing while Zarkon was chasing the castle across the universe, and even Lance and Allura fusing once when Lance flirted with her–and promptly de-fusing so violently they both skidded halfway across the bridge.

Part of the Trials of Marmora is supposed to be achieving a stable fusion with an established Blade, under the understanding that someone who’s loyal to Zarkon wouldn’t be able to remain fused with a rebel. Keith doesn’t manage it (maybe because they don’t tell him he’s supposed to try, and the allies who come in to help him fight are so aggressive that Keith assumes they’re just more enemies. He lets them take out each other, but fights on his own, as he always has.) He awakens his blade at about the same time as Shiro crashes the test, but Kolivan is still intent on taking it back since he didn’t manage a fusion.

Then Keith and Shiro fuse (unintentionally, and it takes a moment to stabilize because Keith is all too aware of Shiro’s history with the Galra and the fact that Keith himself is Galra. Shiro holds on, though, and once Keith realizes Shiro isn’t pulling back, he relaxes and the fusion stabilizes.) Kolivan accepts this as passing the trials less because it actually counts and more because two fused paladins isn’t someone he wants to make an enemy of.

Keith and Hunk fuse, briefly, inside the Weblum–something Acxa finds fascinating, if slightly troublesome. Lotor’s team can fuse in nearly any combination they want to (Acxa has trouble fusing with Zethrid, and Ezor with Narti, but other than that they’re all pretty well in sync.) That’s always been the greatest advantage they had, but if the paladins can also fuse…

Fusion, as it turns out, can deepen the Voltron bond. The team finds this out when they face Zarkon at the end of season 2 and achieve a partial 5-way bond. Because they’re each in their own lions, they can’t physically fuse, but the familiar mind-link becomes a literal single mind as their consciousnesses fuse. When Haggar rips them apart, the effects are staggering and that, more than even the Quintessence drain, nearly kills them, but they pull it together and manage to defeat Zarkon.

Lance and Allura fuse again just after Allura first pilots Blue, when Lance is helping her figure out how to bond with her lion. It’s still awkward, but far more stable than their first disastrous attempt, and it does, actually, help Allura get in sync with Blue.

Actually, Lance kinda wishes he could fuse with Keith and get inside Red’s head, but so far it hasn’t happened. They’re close–on Thayserix, when Lance and Keith are alone and Keith admits he’s screwed everything up–when Lance acknowledges the truth in that statement but moves immediately to “Let’s fix it (together)” they feel something. A tug, like they might have been able to fuse if they physically could. So far they haven’t come close again, but honestly, it’s only a matter of time.

[faierius]

In His Shoes (10. Sweet Dreams are Made of These)

Chapter One (Can’t We All Just Get Along?)

Chapter Two (Out Of Body Experience)

Chapter Three (We Don’t Talk About That)

Chapter Four (My Body Won’t Change My Heart)

Chapter Five (Myth and Mystery)

Chapter Six (Baby Steps)

Chapter Seven (Sleep on it)

Chapter Eight (Seeds)

Chapter Nine (All About Perspective)

               Noctis scrubbed the heels of hands over his eyes and sniffed loudly. He couldn’t believe he started crying. This day just needed to end. He was mortified by his own behavior, he yelled at Prompto for something that wasn’t his fault, and he’d done it in front of Gladio.

               “You’re a Royal screw-up,” he told himself. You can’t even keep your emotions under control, how are you ever going to be fit to rule a kingdom? Why would Prompto even waste his time with an idiot like you?

               Pressing his fists against his eyes, Noctis took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He couldn’t avoid this forever, but the thought of telling Prompto made his stomach do backflips. It was only a dream, one probably inspired by this stupid curse, but it didn’t change the fact that he didn’t try to stop Gladio even though his dream-self knew better. That made him feel worse than anything. If he found himself in the same situation in waking life, no matter how unlikely it was to happen, he feared he’d behave the same way. It didn’t seem to matter that he had no feelings for Gladio.

               Noctis felt sick. A dream shouldn’t have this much power over him. The fear and heartache were overwhelming.

               A light tap on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Highness?”

               “G’way, Specs,” Noctis answered, closing his eyes and frowning.

               “I shall do nothing of the sort. We need to resolve whatever put you in this foul mood. Prompto and Gladio thought you may be more comfortable discussing the problem with me.”

               Yeah, because I totally want to tell you I was having sex with your boyfriend in my dream. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”

               Ignis’ quiet sigh filtered through the thin door. “Unless you wish to be stuck this way for the rest of our lives, I highly suggest you come out here and speak to me. You ought to know by now there is no shame in seeking help for your troubles.”

               Noctis grumbled low in his throat. “Why do you always have to be right?” With a final swipe of his hands over his eyes, Noct let himself out of the bathroom.

               “Oh, Noct,” Ignis sighed, brows drawn with concern. The man’s eyes were red, the skin surrounding them raw from where he wiped away tears. He held his glasses in one hand while fidgeting nervously with his pant leg with his other hand. He refused to look up at Ignis.

               “Yeah, I’m a mess,” Noct muttered, setting the glasses on the small counter.

               Gently putting his hand on Noct’s arm, Ignis indicated for him to sit. Noctis sat down on one side of the tiny built-in table, his back to the bed at the far end of the caravan. As Ignis sat down opposite him, he caught the dark blush on the man’s cheeks before he lowered his head to hide it.

               They sat in silence for a long time, Ignis patiently waiting for Noctis to begin whenever he felt comfortable. Nearly five minutes quietly ticked by, Noct shifting uncomfortably in his seat and sending awkward glances at Ignis.

               Eventually, Noctis let out a heavy sigh, sat up straight, and tried to meet Ignis’ eyes, but failed. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. A few more seconds passed, and he tried again.

               “I can’t face Prompto,” he finally mumbled, resting his elbows on the table.

               “How come?”

               The blush on Noctis’ face deepened. “Now that I have to say it out loud, it seems really stupid. I, um…I had a dream last night.”

               “A dream? One of your usual nightmares? Or something different?”

               Noctis’ ears and neck began to flush the same color as his cheeks. “Uh…different. Very different.”

               Tilting his head, Ignis studied Noctis’s face. “Would you like to elaborate?”

               “Not really, no. But I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

               Ignis crossed his arms and reclined in his seat. “Take your time.”

               Peeking up at Ignis from under his eyebrows, Noctis felt the hoard of butterflies in his belly and heard the nagging voices of anxiety in his head. None of them are going to forgive you. This is your fault for keeping secrets. Ignis face was soft with concern and something inside Noctis twinged with irrational hatred.

               “It was…” —Noctis swallowed hard, combing his fingers through his hair— “a dirty dream,” he mumbled.

               A light dusting of pink colored Ignis’ cheeks. “Alright. While I understand why that’s embarrassing, I don’t see why it’s made you so angry.”

               Noctis clenched his fists, his dull nails biting into the flesh of his palm. He wasn’t going to get anywhere being shy. Sparing as many details as he could, Noctis told Ignis the contents of his dream.

               Ignis was silent a long time, his cheeks now as red as Noctis’. “Oh,” he finally whispered.

               “I’m sorry, Specs. You’re probably really weirded out now, and I don’t blame you,” Noctis mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

               Ignis made a noise in his throat and lifted his hand to adjust his glasses as he often did when nervous, only to remember they weren’t there. Dropping his hand, he cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “You are not the problem here, Highness. Without going into too much detail, I can tell you for certain your –ahem—dream is entirely the fault of this blasted spell.”

               “Yeah, I already know that much, but I was still conscious of what was going on and I let it happen. That’s why I can’t talk to Prompto about this. Especially while he’s in Gladio’s body.”

               Folding his hands on the table, he straightened his spine and forced himself to look at Noctis. “I understand your plight, but the person in the dream was not you.”

               Finally lifting his head, Noctis’ brow twitched as he met Ignis’ eyes. “Huh?”

               “While my dream was not as explicit as yours, last night I experienced a moment of your life through your eyes. You and Prompto were in sleeping bags, on the floor right here, whispering about intimate things. The only reason I know it for a memory and not a dream is because I was awake that night and overheard part of the conversation,” explained Ignis.

               All color drained from Noctis’ face. “That was a memory? Your memory?” Noctis’ voice cracked in horror.

               Ignis could only manage a small nod.

               Noctis covered his face with both hands, groaning. “Oh, man. This is worse than the guilt!”

               “I am not pleased you have this knowledge either, but the only reason I admitted to it was so you can make up with Prompto.”

               “I thought my brain was making stuff up to torment me with the crush I had on Gladio in high school!” Noctis complained into his hands.

               “What?”

               “What?”

               Silence stretched between the men as they stared at one another in shock.

               “A-anyway, how did this happen? Like, I shouldn’t be having your memories just because I’m in your body.”

               “It would seem whatever magic is influencing our bodies also affects our minds. It was a sense-memory, clarified by the curse and projected into your mind like a vision. Location, the proximity to Gladio’s body, scent, touch, it all created what you saw. Now, do you understand why it’s important we don’t touch one another?” Sighing, Ignis shot a glare at the man.

               “Why just us, though? Why aren’t Prompto and Gladio being affected like we are?”

               Ignis shrugged. “All I have are theories. Perhaps it’s because our bond is stronger, so our minds are easier to muddle together. We have been together since childhood, after all. Or they are experiencing the same issues, but just aren’t interpreting them as problems. It’s difficult to say when I have no knowledge of this magic.”

               “Dammit,” hissed Noctis, combing his fingers through his hair. “This really just feels like one trial after another to see how messed up we get.”

               “I very well may be. And we keep failing the tests.”

               “If I keep getting these…memories, I never want to sleep again,” Noctis grumbled, shuddering. “I also never want to share sleeping accommodations with you ever again.”

               “Believe me, Gladio was severely reprimanded for his behavior.”

               “Oh, so that’s why the last time we were out this way, you didn’t talk to him for two days?”

               Ignis dipped his head in agreement.

               “Well, um, thanks for this. I guess. Still don’t know how I’m gonna face Prompto. Not looking like Gladio.”

               “Perhaps you should think about it while you shower. You smell rather ripe.”

               “Stress and exercise do that to a man.”

               “Yes, well take care of it. I don’t like the idea of looking so slovenly,” Ignis told him. “I’ll go speak with Prompto and have him wait for you at the dining area.” Getting to his feet, he patted Noctis’ shoulder and excused himself.

               Noctis took a moment to collect himself after Ignis left. While he was no longer angry and guilt-ridden, strong emotions still prickled inside him. Mortification on the top of the list.

               “I dunno who or what you are Tuudoh, but if you could stop jerking us around, I’d appreciate it,” he sighed to the empty caravan.

               Shaking his head, Noctis pushed himself to his feet and kicked off his clothes. He wanted to stand under the showerhead until the water ran out, but settled for a quick five-minute wash. It would be better for him to talk to Prompto before he had time to overthink again.

               Dressed in clean clothes again, hair still damp, Noctis went to find Prompto. As Ignis said, he was waiting at the dining area. In true nervous Prompto fashion, he sat at the furthest table, tapping his fingers on the rough wood surface as his leg bounced with pent-up energy.

               Noctis had noticed long ago how differently the man behaved alone as opposed to being with his friends. When he was alone, he was hyper-observant, eyes constantly moving, aware of everything going on around him. When he was with them, he was more relaxed, letting his reflexes take the place of his senses. The first time Noctis noticed the behavior, it made him so happy to know Prompto was comfortable enough with them to let his guard down.

               When Prompto’s eyes landed on him, Noctis could see him focus, the rest of the word fading to noise. Eagerness, love, and trepidation warred on his face and Noctis couldn’t even tell in this moment that those features weren’t actually Prompto’s.

               Noctis never felt like such a piece of shit in his entire life. “Hey,” he greeted with a tiny, two-fingered wave.

               “H-hey,” Prompto answered shakily, halfway out of his chair.

               Shaking his head, Noctis flopped into the seat opposite Prompto and watched him sit back down slowly. Huffing out a breath, he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried to gather his thoughts. He wanted to give some eloquent apology, but he knew it would never happen. “Sorry for being an asshole,” he muttered instead.

               “N-no, it’s okay.”

               Noctis’ eyes flicked up to lock on Prompto’s face. “It’s not! I was a dick to you because of a stupid dream. It had nothing to do with you, but because you look like him, and I felt guilty, I took it out on you. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

               “A dream?” Prompto asked, a slight crease of a frown between his brows.

               Hating himself with every word, Noctis described his ‘dream’ to Prompto. He didn’t tell him it was actually a memory. Not yet, anyway. Maybe later when he wasn’t so horrified by the thought.

               “Well,” squeaked Prompto, clearing his throat before trying again. “Well, it was just a dream. Not your fault, right? It’s the curse.” The words poured out of him as heat rose in his cheeks. “Geez, I didn’t think Gladio blushed this easily.”

               A smile tugged at Noctis’ mouth. “Yeah, it is, but I still feel like a jerk. Especially since I thought it was because of the crush I had on him in high school.”

               Prompto shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t briefly consider it. For two months.”

               “That…that’s not the response I was expecting.”

               “Masking my feels with comedy. Look, I am stupidly jealous because it was Gladio and not me. But I am also, ashamedly, kinda turned on. You can’t just describe something like that to a guy and have him be completely unaffected!”

               Noctis felt some tension drain at Prompto’s stupid comment. “So…we’re good?”

               The humor faded from Prompto’s eyes. “I know you’re not the most talkative guy out there, and you’re a hundred times worse when you’ve got a problem ‘cause you don’t want to burden anyone. But this time it made you say some really nasty things. Hearing you say you didn’t want to see my face…that hurt, Noct. Like, a lot.”

               “I know, and I feel like garbage for saying it. You’re the last person I want to hurt.”

               “Then next time just trust me more. You know I wouldn’t get mad about something like that.”

               “I will.”

               Prompto nodded, remaining silent for a long while. Noctis watched him his heart hammering in his chest as he awaited his judgment. After a span of time that seemed like an eternity, a bright grin washed over Prompto’s face.

               “Okay, we’re good.”

               “Thank you, Prom.”

               “But as payment?”

               “Yeah?”

               “When we get our bodies back, we’re doing the thing from your dream. I’ll take Gladio’s roll.”

               Noctis swallowed hard as the butterflies in his belly awoke once more. “Sure.”

[kimjongdaely]

Taken [Chapter 5]

Mafia!AU

Pairing: Suho x Reader

Warnings: Language; may have triggering situations including sexual situations, abuse, violence, etc.

Summary: You were just a normal girl. You were just trying to get by. Until a rather unfortunate relationship brought you to the hands of Suho, the leader of the greatest mafia in the country.

Prologue│Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3│Chapter 4│Chapter 5│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Chapter 8│Chapter 9│Chapter 10│ Chapter 11│Chapter 12│Chapter 13│Chapter 14│Chapter 15│ Chapter 16│Chapter 17│Chapter 18│Epilogue

You were given an actual room.

Baekhyun was the one who led you there. After you finished practicing with Chen, you were expecting Suho to be right behind you, but you were surprised to find him already gone.

Baekhyun reassured you saying that he just had some business to take care of, but told him to take you to your new room.

You frown at this, but nod and follow Baekhyun to the top floor. You pass Suho’s room and unconsciously shiver as bad memories flash before your eyes.

He leads you to a room near the end of the hallway, “Here it is. My room is down the hall, the third to the right. Just knock if you need anything.” Then he trots away.

You enter the room cautiously, wondering if this is really happening. The room is just enough for one person, with a single bed, a desk, a small closet and a bathroom to your left.

You gingerly sit on the bed, feeling the soft texture of the covers under your fingertips. You remind yourself that you were kidnapped here, that you were almost assaulted three times, that these people are bad.

But it seems a little hard to believe now that they’ve given you an adequate room, taught you combat skills and even gave you weapons to protect yourself.

You sigh, feeling slightly overwhelmed and exhausted, deciding to go take a shower. You haven’t taken one after you were dolled up—in which you were practically forced to bathe,—and you feel gross.

You rummage the closet and find a large t-shirt and some sweats that are way too big. Grimacing at your only choice, you throw them on the sink counter and peel off your old, disgusting clothes. You were still in your tattered dress, and you already went bare-feet from your combat with Chen. You definitely won’t fight in heels. You remind yourself to return Suho’s jacket later.

The hot water that hits your face is soothing and comforting as you let out a long sigh. You finally feel relaxed after a day of tension.

You scrub at your skin with the provided soap and let yourself stay there under the water for a bit longer. When your skin starts to wrinkle, you turn off the water and grab a clean towel that was under the sink and dry yourself off.

The clothes you found are huge on you. The shirt reaches your mid-thigh and the sweats had to be rolled up a few times so you don’t trip on them. You pull harshly on the strings at the waistband and tie a knot so it doesn’t fall down your hips.

You comb your wet hair with your fingers.

Completely exhausted from the day, you plop down on the bed and immediately find yourself dozing off.

You’re pretty sure that, in the midst of your slumber, you heard a knock on the door and someone calling you for dinner. But you’re so tired that you can barely crack your eyes open, so you ignore it and let yourself drown deeper in sleep.

You wake up to find it almost midnight.

You groggily sit up, stretching your sore muscles before cautiously poking your head out from the doorway, seeing no one in sight.

It’s late, maybe everyone is already asleep?

You bite your lip as you wonder if you should go back to sleep. But you don’t really feel like sleeping anymore.

You decide to go back to the practice area and practice your combat skills a bit more. It never hurts to be more prepared.

You tiptoe through the quiet hallways. You see a few people still walking about, probably working on something that you would rather not know. Who knows what people do in a mafia base.

You try not to be seen as you take the elevator to the second floor where the arena is. You let out a sigh of relief as you successfully arrive there. Your gun and knife is strapped safely around your waist with the belt you were given by Chen.

You’re overjoyed to find the place empty, and you slip in to practice some combat skills yourself. It’s a little difficult by yourself, since you can’t really test your skills, but you practice what you learned and try to perfect them.

“You’re up late.”

You jump and almost drop your dagger at the foreign voice. You whip around to find a man watching you, leaning on the weapon wrack casually. He’s handsome—so far, everyone you’ve met is handsome—and lean. You can see his muscles even with a large t-shirt over his body.

“You too.” You say, a bit too shaky for your liking. You wanted to sound confident.

The corners of his lips lift slightly. He scans you with analytical eyes, and you shiver uncomfortably under his gaze. He seems to notice this when he apologizes, “Sorry, it’s just a bad habit. I like to know who’s friend and who’s foe.”

This man will be a very dangerous enemy. “Did Suho tell you to keep an eye on me?”

“He did.” He admits, a grin on his face. “But I tend to practice at night when it’s quiet and easiest to concentrate. So me being here right now is pure coincidence.”

He grabs two daggers from the weapon wrack. “Want to practice with me? Just to test your skills.” He offers you one dagger. You eye it skeptically, keeping a tight hold on your own one. He smiles. “This one is made of plastic. It’ll sting, but it won’t injure, so it’s good to use during practice.”

With that, you accept the dagger. “What’s your name?”

“Xiumin.” He answers before getting into position. “Ready?”

You nod, and he attacks. He’s fast—incredibly fast—as he swings the dagger at you. You’re barely able to duck and avoid it grazing your head. Before you could fully recover, he throws a backhand swing at you, hitting you in the shoulder.

You seethe at the stinging pain, before you attack as well, going for his arms in hopes to weaken or even disarm him. He sees through your trick and smoothly escapes from your dagger, hitting you again in the stomach.

You grit your teeth, becoming more frustrated, as you take another swing at him. You finally successfully graze his arm, but it doesn’t seem to affect him like his hits does to you.

You go back and forth parrying for several minutes before you see a smirk on Xiumin’s face, a soft scoff escaping his lips. In a flash, he appears behind you and presses his dagger against your neck. “Dead.”

You breathe hard as the battle finally ends with his win. He removes the dagger and you drop onto the floor, wheezing.

Defeat humiliates you as you try to catch your breath, sweat dripping from your forehead down to your chin and makes it’s way into your eyes, blurring your sight. You rub at it furiously, hating the sticky and wet feeling.

“Your basics aren’t bad.” Xiumin states after a while of letting you recover. You now sit cross-legged on the hard floor. He throws you a plastic bottle of water and you gladly take a few gulps. “But you’re too slow. Your reflexes aren’t fast enough.”

“How do I improve?” You ask after regaining your breath, looking up at Xiumin who seems completely unaffected by your battle just now. He didn’t even break a sweat.

“Practicing is good.” He says. “But experience is important. You won’t be able to learn much in a safe arena like this.” He gestures at the place. “You only learn if someone is trying to kill you and you’re fighting for your life. Practice combats like ours won’t mimic that kind of tension.”

You nod, understanding. It means you won’t be able to actually get better unless you get into a real fight. The thought scares you. Practicing without hurting anyone is one thing, but actually fighting, hurting and maybe even killing someone is completely different.

“Xiumin’s right.” You snap your head over to the entrance where Suho is standing with a grin.

Xiumin greets him as he comes over, and Suho gives him a nod in acknowledgement. He then turns to you. “Your basics are good, but let’s put those basics to the test. Experience is valuable, so I’m putting you on your first mission.”

Your eyes widen as you watch Suho, then turning to Xiumin who doesn’t look surprised at the news. “M-Mission?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “But let’s get you refreshed first. You’ll go tomorrow night.”

He glances at Xiumin before both of them start leaving. You scramble onto your feet to follow them.

Back on the top floor, the three of you make your way to your own room. Xiumin’s is in the opposite end while you and Suho continue towards your own rooms. Just before he goes into his, you tug at his shirt timidly, surprising him. “Yeah?”

“I…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” You say quietly. “What is a mission? ...What am I supposed to do?”

His eyes linger on you softly. “Don’t worry. You’ll know soon enough.” He opens his door and goes in as you drop his shirt, watching his door close gently.

The following night, Chen comes knocking on your door with a wide grin. “Hey! Ready for your first mission?”

“No.” You say curtly, biting your lip and he let’s out a laugh at your answer.

“I suppose that’s adequate.” He smiles. “It’s your first, after all.”

You nod but don’t find words to say. You’re nervous and scared and you’re about ready to bolt.

“Just relax, okay?” He says gently before pushing some clothes into your hands. “Here, I got these for you. You should wear this during missions.” He closes the door and lets you change. You stare at the clothes in your hands, which consists of a black synthetic shirt and black tights.

You change into them and understand why these are ideal for missions. They’re flexible, easy to move in, and dark to blend in with the night.

You strap on your gun and dagger before opening the door again to find Chen waiting for you. He smiles at you approvingly before motioning for you to follow. He leads you to the lobby where five other men are waiting.

“It’s time you met the full team.” Chen tells you softly as you slowly make your way to join the others.

“This is Kai. You’ve met him before, right? He’s mainly in charge of human trafficking; prostitution, slaves, all that. Nightclubs are also in his charge. He always seduces people for information; we call that Seeking, so he’s a Seeker. He specializes in direct hand-to-hand combat, but he always has a knife up his sleeve.” Chen winks at the male who smiles, but rolls his eyes. “He plays dirty.

“This is Chanyeol.” You nod in recognition at the tall male. “He’s an arsonist. He covers up our footprints by setting evidences on fire. When something goes wrong, he’s usually the one that covers us up. He specializes in shooting and swords.

“This is D.O.” He points to a shorter male who you saw at the party. The sight of him makes you shiver. “He’s an assassin. He’s the one we go to when we need someone dead or seriously injured. He covers his tracks up almost perfectly, so he’s never been caught. He specializes in snipers and guns, but he’s also good at hand-to-hand combat.

“This is Xiumin. He’s our chemical engineer, our personal drug maker. He’s a really good fighter, and can fight with any kind of weapon. He prefers knives and hand-to-hand combat, though. He’s the oldest out of us and is also our second-in-command, so he’s in charge when Suho isn’t around. He usually leads missions.”

“Wait, Suho doesn’t go on missions?” You cut in, surprised at the new information.

Chen raises his a brow when he answer, “Not usually. He usually stays with Baekhyun to monitor us. Speaking of which, Baekhyun is our hacker. Any kind of safe or door is up to him to open. These clothes also have lenses and GPS signals installed so he watches us and warns us of any potential danger. He specializes in swords and long-distance guns. You’ll also need this,” he shows you an earpiece which you take and plug into your ear.

He proceeds to the last person. “This is Sehun. I don’t believe you’ve met him before.” A shake of your head verifies this. Sehun is a tall, handsome man who looks at you with emotionless eyes. His face almost looks angry, and it scares you slightly. Chen senses your uneasiness and chuckles. “Don’t worry. He only looks intimidating when he’s standing there doing nothing. Once he opens his mouth, he’s like a child.”

“Hyung, that’s not true!” Sehun argues and you giggle at the sudden change of aura. He indeed doesn’t seem so intimidating now.

“He’s also the youngest.” Chen says and you gasp, not really believing it. He looks so mature, you could have sworn he was older than a few other people. “He’s in charge of casinos and loaning. He specializes in swords and handguns.”

“What about you?” You ask him and you catch him in surprise.

He clears his throat before proudly saying, “I’m a smooth-talker, so, like Kai, I’m a Seeker and sometimes smooth-talk people into telling us information. Sometimes I kidnap people, but it doesn’t happen that often. We prefer not bring in outsiders. I specialize in handguns and knives.”

“And Suho?” You ask again.

This time, Xiumin speaks up. “Suho is our leader, the founder of EXO. He can use any weapon, but prefers dual-wielding swords.”

“Just so you know, Lay—whom you met, I remember—is a gun dual-wielder. He’s really good at fighting although he doesn’t prefer violence.” Chen grins at your awed expression. “What? You thought he’s only a healer? Everyone here fights.”

“Yeah…” You mumble softly. Are you considered one of them now? You certainly seem like it. If you go on this mission, you’re basically a criminal like them.

The thought makes your stomach queasy. Is this really what you want? Are you really going to do this?

“So?” Kai raises a brow at you, breaking your train of thought. “Ready to go?”

“Wait,” you say out of panic. “What is our mission? What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to go get the document.” Sehun answers and more panic surges through you.

“Document? What document?” You ask but no one answers you, instead, they start heading out the door.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Chen tells you. His words were supposed to be reassuring, but why is it making you more anxious? “Come on, let’s go.” He pushes you forward and you stumble as you catch yourself just before you fall.

You gulp as you follow the others out the door.

No turning back now.

Previous Chapter│Next Chapter

Taken Mini Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading and supporting Taken!!! I hope you guys like this chapter and as usual, please tell me your opinions/feelings! And please also support my other story, Façade~😊 At this point, I think it’s a good idea to add character profiles for each of the characters. You can find it in the masterlist.

©kimjongdaely

Request and let’s love!

[ellana-ravenwood]

“Mother, it’s your day” - Batmom x Batfam

It’s not mother’s day where I come from, but since it is in a shitload of countries...Well, I wrote something with the batfamily about it (I wrote it in litteraly 10 minutes, writing as words came to my mind, and didn’t proof read, sorry if there’s mistakes, and if it’s meh). Hope you’ll like it, don’t hesitate to tell me what you think, feedbacks are always appreciated  :

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_______________________________________________________________________

It was 6 am when they came back from patrol. As usual, they found you asleep in Bruce’s giant chair, in front of the batcomputer, waiting for them to come back. 

You would usually wake up at the sound of their arrival, however today, you were in a deep slumber...You had quite a difficult and busy week. Bruce, knowing that, stopped Damian from waking you up. 

He couldn’t blame the boy though. He was too excited...it was his first “Mother’s Day” after all. Damian annoyed his brothers all night, asking for advice about what he was suppose to do on that day, and once he understood the purpose of it, got really excited about showing you how much you meant to him...But right now, you needed your sleep. 

To be honest, they all needed sleep. It could wait a few hours. 

Raising you delicately in his arms, Bruce took you back to the master’s bedroom. You didn’t stir when he laid you in bed, and you didn’t even react to the sound of him taking a shower. When he slipped in bed, you went to snuggle against him, but he realized that it was more a reflex than you being awake, and with a small smile on his face, he wrapped his arms around you and soon, he was asleep too. 

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

The smell of eggs and bacon is what woke you up. And Bruce’s groans. 

You opened one eye, and then the other, slowly, sleep still fogging your vision a bit. You weren’t sure what were those four forms at the end of your bed...

-I sure hope you guys aren’t naked under the cover, cause that’s a sight I don’t wanna see right after waking up. 

Tim. That was Tim’s voice. So those shadowy figure there must be...your sons. You feel Bruce shift a bit, one of his hand is rubbing his eyes with vigor, while his other hand is comfortably settled on the small of your back. The blanket is all the way up to your chin, and your head is on your husband’s bare chest, yours arms around him. You yawn loudly before turning your face toward your children. 

-We always sleep naked. 

Your four boys all gasp, and Jason pushes Damian toward you. You don’t understand at first, why they’re not just running away right now, as they usually do...That’s when you see the tray filled with food. A glass of orange juice, a huge cup of the blackest coffee ever, that only you would drink, toasts, eggs, bacon, pancakes, butter...What the Hell is all this ? 

Damian walks awkwardly to your night table, and tries to focus on your face only. Though the blanket is covering your entire body, and even half of your face, he’s still...worried. He puts the tray down on your night table, pushing away the books that littered it to find some space, and quickly moves away. 

-It’s your day, mother. 

He says, and it finally hits you. Oh. Oh it’s so cute. 

You sit up, wrapping the blanket around you (and forcing Bruce to sit up too, and to stay close from you, so that his lower half doesn’t traumatize his children). They all look away, and you smile. 

-Yeah well, happy mother’s day mom, we hum...We’re gonna wait in the kitchen. Don’t take too long, we...have a lot of things to do today ! 

Dick says, finally looking at you when he realizes you’re wrapped in a blanket. They all leave the room, and Bruce groans some more. 

-I do not want to wake up. 

-You’re already awake. 

-Stand up. 

-You don’t have to. 

-But you’re going to, because you’re curious about what they prepared for you, and staying in bed without you makes no sense. 

You smile at Bruce and turn around to kiss him lovingly, he pulls away just slightly, and, still feeling his breath on your face, his nose brushing against yours, he says : 

-Happy mother’s day. 

You smile in the kiss he gives you next, and wrap your arms around his neck. His hands go on your waist, and he raises you up from the bed and drags you to him, so that you can straddle them. You push him down on the mattress, as his fingers gently caress your back. You take his hands in yours, and pin them above his head. Hot. But you pull away from the kiss, and he chases after you, raising his head to follow yours, his tongue darting a bit out of his mouth. He wasn’t done with the kissing, actually, quite the opposite, he was really getting into it. A bit too much, as you know where the kiss would lead the both of you...You smile some more and rest your forehead on his. 

-I don’t have time for that right now Bruce, you heard them ? Busy day. 

-You can spare a few minutes...

-As if it’s ever gonna last a few minutes. 

-I can make it quick. I’ll skip the foreplay. 

-We both now you won’t, and “quick”, is still over an...

-Come on, just stay a bit...

Oh. He’s trying to get you with his cute puppy eyes. But you know what ? It’s your day, it won’t work. You smile slyly at him, and get off of him, going to take the tray of delicious food your sons made for you. They went a bit overboard with it, as it is filled with way too much things...Perfect.  

His groans and on of his hand trying to catch you to bring you back on him makes you chuckle. You escape him easily though, as sleep is still fogging his mind, and he just wasn’t ready to have to “fight you” to stay close to him. You usually do. 

He tried to convince you once more to come back to bed with him, kissing your neck from behind, his legs on each sides of yours, and his hands roaming your naked body...but it wasn’t going to work. 

First, you were eating, and when eating, nothing could break your focus, not even your Husband trying to turn you on. And second, you were really curious about what your children planned for you today...Curiosity always won. 

He didn’t really try too much to convince you however, knowing how important that day was to your sons. Besides, he had you every mornings, he could share for once. Just for once though. 

He gave up on keeping you with him, and, still wrapped around you, you fed him some of your massive breakfast, turning his childish pouty face into a small smile. 

You ate your great homemade breakfast (you knew they did it themselves because some of the toasts were a bit burned, the scrambled eggs were undercooked, and traces of their fingers were on your orange juice glass...Alfred would never leave any traces on any glass) while talking to your husband, trying to make him say what your sons prepared for you (of course, he knew, he help them get ideas of things to do with you, knowing you better than anyone else). 

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

They explained everything to you, and damn were they organized. You suspected Damian did most of the work (and you were right). 

They divided the day in four, a quarter for each of them, so that they’d have you all to themselves for a few hours each. Sounded like a great idea. Some mother/son bonding with all of them. At the end of the day, you were suppose to all reunite, and watch your favorite film : (your favorite film). Oh, and they also got you a shit ton of gifts you didn’t even really need. Jewelries, perfumes, books...Oh well, it was still extremely sweet. 

Sitting next to you at the kitchen table, Bruce couldn’t hide his smile. He would probably not see you of the entire day, but it was alright, because he knew they were going to take good care of you. Besides, he was already planning on spending the day at his mother’s grave, to talk to her and all, bringing her a bouquet of flowers he picked up himself in the Manor’s garden, just like he did when he was a kid...It was good to be alone to do that, he didn’t want to make any of you sad. 

Dick was the first to take you out, as he was the eldest one and self-proclaimed himself best fitted to take you out for the lunch part of the day. He took you to your favorite restaurant, on Gotham’s dock. It wasn’t the best or fanciest one, but you loved it. The view of the ocean from the terrace was perfect, and it was such a beautiful day. You ordered (your favorite meal), and engaged an interesting conversation about your son’s complicated love life...Oh that boy. After lunch, you went to walk on the dock, and after he begged you to tell him more, you started to tell him stories of your childhood. They made him laugh more than once, you were quite the daredevil when you were a kid...You met Jason at the end of the dock for his turn of the day with you. 

But before leaving with him, you bought some flowers from a shot near by, and threw them in the ocean. When your sons looked at you curiously, you said :

-It’s for Mary and Catherine, your moms. In their memories. For bringing in the World such wonderful boys like you two. I know I’ll never take their pl...

The group hug they gave you was to tight you almost suffocated. You made them cry, but of happy tears...You always had the right words and actions to make them feel loved. You didn’t replace their mothers, you just...became their mom too. It was as simple as that, and they told you so. You filled in more than perfectly the emptiness the death of their mothers left in their heart. 

You were their mom now, and you had been for years, since they were little heartbroken kids that you took in your home, you had to deal with it. You could definitely do that. They were your sons. Yours.

With a last kiss on his cheek, and a “I love you, thank you I had a wonderful time”, you left a smiling Dick behind and went to your little mom/son date with Jason. 

Paintball. That’s what he wanted to do with you. A bit worried you wouldn’t like it, he told you awkwardly that he had a plan B just in case and...

-No Jay. It’s perfect. I love paintball, like for real. Prepare to get your ass whooped my boy. 

With a laugh, he put his protection gears on, and the war began. 

You did indeed whooped his ass. The white workwear he was wearing were covered in paint, while he managed to got you only once on the shoulder...Damn, the infamous Red Hood lost against his mother at a paintball game. He was so glad it was just the two of you, if his friends, brothers or father were here...Little did he know, you’d tell the story later, and the worst one of all to mock him was going to be a very sassy Alfred. 

You then went to get some milkshake, and to talk. You loved to talk with your kids, and you were the only one to whom they told everything (or almost everything). Quickly Tim joined you to steal you away from Jason. A kiss on the cheek, a “I love you” and a “Thank you” to Jay later, you were walking with Tim toward your next destination. 

A museum. Of course. But not just any museum...It was “Mr Ripley’s believe it or not”. You adored that place filled with bizarrerie and curiosities. Some of the exposed object confused your son, as he couldn’t make his mins as wether the things he saw were real or not...It made you burst out in laughter more than once, and Tim accentuated his confusion even more just to hear you laugh. When you were done with the museum, you went to grab waffles (seriously, by the end of the day, you were going to explode because of the amount of food you ingested...but who cares ?), and spoke together. You also bought some flower for Tim’s mother, and when you explained it to him, he was so stunned that he didn’t react right away. He then hugged you, just like his brothers did, and proceeded on telling you the exact same things his brothers said. 

You were his mom. He loved you. 

Damian arrived while he was hugging you, and with a “tt” toward his brother, he took your hand and you barely had time to lay a kiss on Tim’s cheek and say “thank you” before he was out of reach and earshot. Damian was excited to show you what he prepared for you. 

The roof of Wayne’s corp, that’s where he took you. To watch the sun go down. It was breathtaking. Magnificent. Damian was proud of the effect it had on you. And was so glad that you never even thought about going on his father’s company’s building roof. The surprise was perfect. 

You sat on the border of the building, your feet dangling above Gotham City, and enjoyed the sight. You talked more with Damian than you ever did, and...

-I love you moth...Mommy. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I never knew anyone could love someone like I love you, I never knew a mother could be so great. I...I just love you, and I’m happy and honored to be your son. 

-...Oh...Damian...I love you too my boy...Come here. 

The hug you gave him was the best he ever received. And, your hand brushing his hair lovingly, he almost cried of happiness. 

He had a mom. And the best one at that. All this joy almost made him forgot to gave you the cookies he made for you. They were charred, black, so burned...And yet, you ate all of them without an hesitation, and when he told you that he was now sure you loved him too because there was no way in Hell a normal person would eat his cookies that eagerly, the laugh that escaped your mouth made his heart race. 

He had a mom. And the best one at that. You. With a lot of regret, as the sun disappears behind the ocean, and the Moon starts to rise, Damian says you probably should go back home. You agree, your day is finally over, and you wished you could relieve it over and over, because those boys were just amazing. The conversations you had with them were great, and you felt so lucky to have had those hours with them. 

Damian’s first mother’s day was better than he even imagined, and he couldn’t wait for the next one. He was already thinking about what he should do...Maybe take you to New Zealand maybe ? You were a huge Lord of the Rings fan...Oh well, he had an entire year to think about it ! 

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

You came home to the dinner table being settled, with candles and all, only for two...Confused, you turned to your sons. 

-We thought that, to finish the day,  you and father should have time just the two of you. We know you don’t have much of those so...Here. 

-We’re still waiting for you to watch (your favorite movie) though ! 

-No we’re not Damian. They probably won't be coming back after dinner. 

-What ? Where are they going to g...Oh. OOOOOH ! No. Gross. Shut up. 

You laugh, and your clear voice make them smile unconsciously. It just appears on their face when they hear you. You have the clearest, brightest laugh, and they all loved it..even when it turned a bit silly when you were laughing to much, struggling for air. 

You kiss all of them, and Bruce comes in, wearing your favorite tuxedo. 

The dinner is amazing. Your sons were right, you didn’t have much times to just enjoy each other. Talking about anything and everything. Being almost sickeningly affectionate together without hearing a “ew” was a nice change of pace...Heartfelt “I love you” and other cheesy “There’s no life without you” were exchanged in the heat of the moment, though you guys meant all of it.  Before going to bed with your Bruce however, you decide to go watch that film with your sons, because they’ve been absolutely perfect today, and you know they wanted you to join them. 

Popcorn, ice cream, cookies, milk and sodas, your favorite movie on, surrounded by your husband and sons. Great. Bruce’s arm was around your shoulder. Damian was sitting next to you, asleep, his head in your lap, Tim was sitting in front of you on the floor, his back against your legs. Dick was next to Damian, asleep on his laps, and one of your hand gently caressing his scalp. Jason sat down in the armchair next to the couch, but your hand were in his, so it was fine. 

Popcorn, ice cream, cookies, milk and sodas, your favorite movie on, surrounded by your husband and sons. Perfect end to a perfect day. 

Actually, scratch that, the perfect end was when Bruce picked you up bridal style after the end of the film, and threw you on your shared bed to show you how much he loved (love) you too.

[multiplefandomfics]

Grimes sisters chapter 4

So here is finally the next chapter. I’m so sorry it took so damn long but we had lost our motivation for a while. but now that season 10 is standing before we got our mojo back. so lean back and enjoy.

Warnings: drama, make out session, Loris funeral

Pairings: Shane x Fabienne

Alex POV

After I had talked with Fabienne for a little while longer we made our way inside to eat something. Luckily the guys had found some good stuff on their hunt through the prison. A lot of the others were already sitting in the main area eating. We sat next to Rick and Carl and Fabi’s glance went over to Shane. Hell they had a lot to talk about. I grabbed a can with god knows what inside, the paper had gone missing along the way, and held it under Fabiennes nose. “Bon Appetit” I said and we enjoyed the food and decent company.

During dinner my sister had been quiet while the others all talked lively. After she had finished her meal she mumbled some apology and went to bed immediately. “Maybe you should apologize.” I hissed to Shane who lowered his head a little, hopefully ashamed of his behavior that morning. We didn’t need more arguments here than we already had. One last time that day I ventured over to Rick and Carl’s cell to say good night and then fell asleep in my bed almost directly.

“ Breakfast” that word ripped me out of my sleep the next morning. The caller was Daryl who smiled almost brightly at us. My wasn’t that a sight for sore eyes?! Seemed like we looked more than funny sleepy and with tousled hair. “Oh by the way your watch begins in a while.” he added. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and put on some halfway clean clothes to wear. “Later” she mumbled when she flew past me. I just shrugged at her. Both of us had never been morning persons before and we wouldn’t start now. When I stepped in the common area everyone had already cleared out. Probably working. Busy bees they were indeed. I grabbed something to eat and went outside as well.

Fabienne POV

I positioned myself on the watchtower and wondered when Carol would finally show up but suddenly the door opened and Shane hobbled in. I looked at him a little confused and huff annoyed. I really didn’t wanna be stuck with him for the next hours. “Carol asked me if I could take her shift, she wanted to prepare with your sister for the funeral.” he said and sat down. “Are you still mad at me?” he asked and smiled at me calmingly. I still remained silent. “Look, I didn’t mean it that way, okay?You could have been hurt or worse. In that case I would have never forgiven myself” he confessed. Was this supposed to be an apology? I just looked at him a little unnerved and responded: “you could have said it differently.” He nodded towards the chair next to him and I sat down. “How’s your foot doing?” I asked concerned. “It’s not that bad.” he pushed the topic aside. He was a tough guy. You had to give him credit for that at least. The fact that he was still limping told me that he was still in a lot of pain.

We glanced over the perimeter of the jail to look for possible breaches but found nothing. “So you brought Lori’s child into this world, hm? Respect!” he changed topic. As I thought about it tears started to dwell in my eyes again. It was a very sore point for me. The image of Lori laying lifeless on the floor in a puddle of her own blood was still so fresh I couldn’t erase it out of my mind. He noticed my uneasiness and pulled me in a hearty embrace. It felt so good to have someone hugging me. He stroked over my upper arm slightly and our faces came dangerously close to each other. We stayed like that for maybe a minute what felt like an hour and my breathing was turning erratic. Suddenly he closed the space and kissed me softly. It was an amazing feeling after all this time of the fucking world ending I never thought about being with a man again but in that moment I realized how much I had missed this. He was such a good kisser and I moaned into the kiss. His big hands framed my face completely but then we had to come up for air. Suddenly it hit me “I don’t think that Rick would like this very much.” I whispered sadly because I had really enjoyed being so close to him. I knew I shouldn’t care about it but I didn’t want to poke the bear even more. Shane looked a little sad for a second before he turned around and kept looking over the yard. I remembered why we where actually here and did the same. But every time my eyes drifted over to him my heart beat wildly in my chest as if it wanted to break through my rib-cage. It was excruciating. I forced myself to keep watch even if that was going to be hard.

“Are you guys coming down?” Alex yelled from downstairs. I had to help Shane climb back down. I didn’t even realize that the time flew past that fast. The following part of the day was gonna get emotional. Lori’s funeral. “Come on I’ll help you.” I offered Shane and he gladly took it. Together we limped over to where Rick and Daryl had shoveled the grave. Lori’s body was already lying rolled in a sheet next to the hole. As I saw that my eyes started to water again. I still couldn’t believe it. Daryl and Rick slowly heaved the body into the grave. The archer wanted to start shoveling earth onto her body but Rick took the shovel from him. He had always been the one to do everything himself. “Lori, we hope you're at a better place now. We will care for our kids but we are gonna miss you every day for the rest of our lives. I love you.” he said and his voice broke. Even I couldn’t hold my tears any longer. Shane saw and put his hand calmingly on my lower back, reflexively I laid my head on his shoulder. In the end everyone stepped closer to the grave and said a few words or just connected silently to her soul. “Thanks for everything.” I whispered through a carpet of tears and took a handful of flowers to throw into the grave. After the small ceremony we all went our separate ways to mourn.  

Ricks POV

The others had already left her grave but I couldn’t. I hated to cry but in this case I couldn’t hold back the tears. Spade after spade of dirt landed on my beloved wife. It just wasn’t fair! Why did I have to loose her again? I wasn’t sure how to handle all this on my own. Half of my life she had been the one giving me strength and courage and now she was gone. Just like that. My daughter would never get to know her mother and Carl’s memories of her would also get thinner and thinner.

All I wanted to do was mourn my loss for as long as I needed to but unfortunately that wasn’t possible in this world. I had a whole group of people relying on me and I couldn’t let them down. I said my last goodbye and found my way back to my family. Everyone was looking at me with pitiful eyes. It was annoying. I hated that feeling. Always had. Now was the time to go forward not back. I had to be strong for them, Lori would have wanted that. It was a welcome change to sit on the grass and talk about this and that. They would help me through this I knew that much. We lost so much in the past that we needed to be a family to each other. That’s how we worked.

It took all out of me to decide to talk to Fabienne. I wasn’t in the mood for fighting with her. I had to look around for a second until I found her sitting with Shane, Alex and Daryl. Where else would she be? The position I found Shane and Fabi sitting in was a little concerning to me. Shane was sitting behind her and she sat in between his spread legs her back facing his torso. I wrinkled my face thinking if there was something going on between them. But I shook the thought away quickly Shane had always been like a second brother to the girls. But I would stay alert. If he wanted something from Fabienne I had to talk to him. He could have anyone but not my sisters. They were off limits. Around the same time I noticed that Alex and Daryl came dangerously close as well. But they had been like fire and water in the past. Especially when Daryl’s brother Merle was the topic. Alex had hated him. He was a misogynist and a racist. There had still been no sign of him after we had left him on the roof of the Atlanta shopping mall. And I wasn’t sure if we would ever hear a word of him again.  We were better off without him. I was actually happy that they seemed to get along now. One problem less to worry about. As I sat down next to them Shane asked me: “How are you holdin’ up?” “According to the circumstances I guess.” I looked down because tears were threatening to spill again. “But why I’m here… I wanted to apologize to you all. Especially to you Fabienne. I didn’t want to yell at you. I was just so afraid that I’d loose you too. I wouldn’t survive that.” I swallowed thickly. Fabienne noticed my sincerity and came over to hug me close. “I love you so much big brother!” she exclaimed. It had always been that way. We could never be mad at each other for too long. I trusted Fabienne with my life but I was still going to keep an eye on her and Shane. After this deep conversation the topics swapped back to our every day survival ones. “’m gonna keep huntin’. Meat’s important right now. We need the strength.” Daryl mumbled. I agreed. Fabienne wanted to plant veggies with the help of Carol and Alex and under consultation of Hershel. He had been a farmer before after all. This was the silver streak we all needed. Maybe we could make a living here for ourselves. The rest of the day was spent with conversation and laughter. It had been a beautiful afternoon. I noticed how much they all had deserved that. After dinner I had gone down to Lori’s grave again to say good night.

Fabienne POV

It was a relieve to be back on the right foot with Rick. The afternoon had been fantastic. Seeing everyone relaxed and kinda happy was nice for a change. Rick stepped away from the group and I also decided to go for a walk. While I ambled along the fence out of sight the sun set completely and it turned dark around me. The last rays dipped the roof of the highest building in a bright pink purple mixture. I stared at it until it was totally gone. I couldn’t believe that this had been the most normal thing in the world to me once in my life. Watching the sun slowly fade away in the evenings unimaginable nowadays. Outside of this refuge it would be much too dangerous to stare at the sky for a little too long. A walker could sneak up on you and bite you right away. I leaned against the wall and glanced over to the walkers outside the fence. They are disgusting monsters. At some point I thought this was the end of humankind but I got new courage that we can fight this virus and win. I went back to the little campfire the others had build and shot Shane once in a while a few glances. I remembered the kiss this morning and I gotta say it was a really nice memory. It would have to do for some lonely nights… even if Rick really wouldn’t be happy with it.

The day ended and everyone fell tired but happy into bed.

New day new luck. Carol and I met at the flowerbeds we had build the previous days. We had to start early because the sun had gotten quiet warm over the last few days and it was almost unbearable to work at noon. “Yesterday I found those flowerbeds over there. They seemed to have been quiet autonomous here and planted a lot themselves.” Carol marked on. But we couldn’t reach that part because there were just too many of the undead. “That’s why they found so many seeds on their run inside.” I noticed. When we were ready preparing we started planting carrot and potato seeds. “Good job.”  Carol said after we had finished and hugged me shortly. She wasn’t the most emotional person either. If you knew her past you could think of many reasons why she had problems connecting to people.

“Hey do you know where Rick is?” Alex came running toward us. “I think he’s on watch.” I responded. “Good thanks. Daryl and I wanna go for a run tomorrow. Maybe we find some supplies.” she stuttered quickly. Her and Daryl? Not that I didn’t trust him but I was still sceptical towards that idea. She rambled a quick bye and ran towards our watchtower.

Carol and I decided to clean up a little and she went to go to Carl and his sister. We still had no name for her. Poor little girl. Inside I washed myself a little we had found some running water earlier. As I stared at myself in the mirror I was a little shocked. All the working in the mud today had made me look like a crazy person. I changed into some clean clothes which were rare nowadays and enjoyed the silence.

At some point I started to clean up our cell. We weren’t the most tidy girls never had been. Mom had always hated the chaos and told us how much more tidy our big brother was. The only reason for that was that he had been rarely home. Always on the run. At that thought I had to smile. I missed her so incredibly much. Unfortunately we were too late when all this started. Shane had taken Alex and me to moms house but it had already been overrun by walkers. Nothing we could have done then. Our dad had already died three years before the apocalypse. Heart attacks were a bitch but at least it was a merciful death. Alex and I were so down after moms death and at that point we still thought Rick to be dead too. I had goosebumps just thinking about it. Stop it Fabienne start looking into a brighter future!! The moment Rick stepped out of that car at the camp outside of Atlanta Alex and had been so happy. We felt like newly born. I was having a lot of those thoughts lately. Suddenly two strong hands gripped me from behind and ripped me out of my thoughts...

[strangestorys]

Flat Tire, chapter one

AKA the one where Nigel and Adam are basically stuck in an episode of Scooby-Doo

This is the second of my giveaway fics, for @laura3c273, who placed first and requested a horror fic:

would LOVE to have a story that has a scary element. You know how Nigel can be a chicken sometimes when it comes to spooky stuff. I am a huge werewolf fan. Love the Blood & Chocolate/Aiden stories too with Nigel.

Chapter One on Ao3 here, more chapters coming soon!

“Are you sure we don’t have any snacks left? I’m getting hungry.”

“Ummm, try the box of graham crackers.”

Nigel kept his left hand on the wheel and dug his right one blindly into the shopping bag behind Adam’s seat, eventually finding something cardboardy and rectangular enough to probably be the graham cracker box. He grabbed it and put it in his lap, returning both hands to the wheel at Adam’s pointed glare.

They were headed home from an autumn camping trip Nigel had planned for them in the dark sky country of central Maine, a place Adam had recounted fond memories of camping with his family as a child. Nigel had timed the trip to the Orionid meteor shower, an event he’d found marked in neat pencil in Adam’s planner while snooping for vacation ideas.

Adam, it turned out, was as delighted to see the meteor shower as he was un-delighted that Nigel had poked around in his personal belongings, and kicked Nigel out of his room for a good week after he found out. For his part, Nigel felt that his growing acquaintance with their couch cushions was all worth it when they came out here and he could see the scattered pinpricks of light reflected back in Adam’s wide hazel eyes.

And it really was gorgeous out here, far away from civilization. The stars were violent swarms of brightness in the velvet sky above, grouped and clumped where they’d fallen eons ago. The air was a dense mixture of sharp pine and the quick, heavy decay of autumn. Soon the whole place would fill with the spearmint of winter, blanketed in white snow and peppered with rabbit and wolf tracks.

They’d spent a long weekend in a rented cabin - neither of them was too fond of the idea of a tent - going on long walks in the woods, fucking long and sweet on the old, squeaky bed, and roasting hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire (Adam had had to explain the concept of s’mores to Nigel, who took to them as readily as he’d taken to his first Glock at the tender age of twelve.).

Now, about an hour into their drive back to the city, Nigel dug his hand into the box of graham crackers and pouted when he discovered it was empty.

“Babe, do they sell this stuff at the bodega on 10th?”

“Probably, but you’re not setting a fire in the apartment to cook s’mores.”

“I never said anything about a fire. Can’t we use a micro–” THUNK

The loud noise startled Nigel out of his plans for inner-city toasted marshmallows, and he quickly shoved his foot down on the brakes and swerved the car over to the shoulder.

“SHIT.”

“Nigel–”

“What the fuck was that?? Did we hit something? Are you ok, love??”

“I’m… I’m fine, Nigel. Can you take your arm out of my space?”

Nigel looked over, realizing that he’d instinctively caged Adam in with his arm in his panic. He sheepishly put it down, but didn’t let up his concern.

“Are you sure you’re ok? Can you move all your toes?”

“I think so? One, two, three… seven… ten. Yeah, all of them.”

“Fingers?”

“Yep.”

Nigel breathed out hard. He didn’t care as much about his own toes; he knew he could at least live without the pinkies. There was a guy back in the mob who had only had three on each foot, and used to let new recruits take bets on how he’d lost them.

“Okay, bird. Let me know if that changes. Or if anything gets blurry, okay?”

“Nigel, I’m fine. I know the symptoms of concussion, and I didn’t even hit my head. We didn’t even hit anything with the car, all you did was slow down quickly.”

Nigel looked between Adam’s eyes, left, right, left, right. Adam followed his gaze instantly, and they ping-ponged back and forth for a minute. Nigel stilled his gaze and Adam followed reflexively.

“Let me know.”

“Okay, okay. I will.” Adam finally broke his eye contact, gazing outside his window at the purpling twilight and fiddling with the lock on the door.

Nigel rested his hand in his chin against the door and looked at the silent highway through the windshield. “Wait, what do you mean we didn’t hit anything with the car?”

“We would have seen anything big enough to make that thump, Nigel. You just have a flat tire, it was bound to happen at some point. We really need to stop borrowing cars from your dealer buddies.”

Nigel covered his face with his hand. “Noted. If we ever get back to the city, I’ll find us a new car rental place.”

“There’s a jack and a donut in the trunk, we’ll be fine.”

“Excuse me?” He looked over at Adam, who had opened the glovebox and was searching around in it.

“You do know how to change a tire, right?” Adam asked absentmindedly, rooting around old foldup maps and pairs of sunglasses missing one arm or the other.

“…”

“…Nigel?” He finally looked up questioningly.

“Why the fuck would I know how to change a tire?”

“Because… you’re an adult?” He went back to rooting around in the glovebox, eyes finally lighting up as his fingers hit what he was looking for.

“You’re on thin ice here, babe.”

“Why are you driving us out in the country if you don’t know how to change a tire? Do you at least know what to do with this?” He held up the contraption he’d found in the glovebox, a thin, round metal tube with a piece of plastic sticking out the end. Nigel stared at it like it might jump out an bite him. “It’s a pressure gauge, Nigel. We can at least check the tires to see if they’re drivable.”

“Look, if you want someone to break down, clean, and reassemble an assault rifle in under a minute, I’m your man, but changing tires isn’t something I had to do very often in the underground heroin industry. Why don’t you know how to change a tire? You’re an adult too, bird.”

“I grew up in Manhattan,” Adam responded, with no hint of irony.

Nigel dropped his eyebrows and chuckled. “Touché… Can you at least work the pressure thing?”

“I think so? I saw my dad do it once.”

“Well, let’s get to it then.” Nigel unclicked his door and stepped out onto the highway, gravel crunching under his feet. He heard the other door’s click and Adam’s softer footsteps a second later.

Both of them came around to the back right tire at the same time, and simultaneously sighed when they saw it was completely flat. It would have been comically flat if this were a kids’ mystery cartoon show, but it wasn’t, and its flatness just sat there taunting them with its ineffectuality.

“I… don’t think this will tell us anything we can’t already see.” Adam gestured with the pressure gauge.

Nigel took it delicately out of his hand and promptly hurled it into the dense woods. “Nope.”

Adam raised his eyebrows at him. “Feel better?”

Not really. “A little.”

So here they were. Somewhere in the middle of the Maine woods, down one tire and one pressure gauge, completely out of snacks, and night setting on rapidly.

“Well… can we call someone?” Adam ventured.

Nigel pulled his phone out of his pocket. No service. Of course.

“No luck.”

“We might have to walk for it. A sign back there said Millinocket is in five miles or so. Which means a little less than five miles, given that I saw the sign back there.”

Nigel rested his elbows against the roof of the car and rubbed at his face. Of course they’d have to walk for it. The perfect ending to their idyllic romantic weekend.

“Well, at least we brought good hiking shoes. Come on, bird. Maybe they’ll have a diner with some pie in town.”

“I don’t know that pie is our main priority right now, Nigel.”

“Speak for yourself.”

(on Ao3 here. To be continued...)

[and-his-name-is-rouge-crimson]

1-100 or whichever you care to tell me... I would like to know everything though :3

Well here goes the rest of my night :3 1-100 here we go.

1. When you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal, or more cereal than milk?

Answer: It honestly depends on the cereal. If it’s anything from the CheeryO’s family, I’ll eat that milk-less. If it’s Cookie Crisp, or Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I had better have some damn milk.

2. Do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a cold wintery day?

Answer: FUCK NO!! WINTER SUCKS!! 

3. What random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

Answer: I just remember the page number. Despite my crap memory, I somehow manage to remember what page I was on when I’m reading.

4. How do you take your coffee/tea?

Answer: I’ll take an energy drink instead.

5. Are you self-conscious of your smile?

Answer: Admittedly yes, I don’t like giving toothy smiles whenever I or someone else takes a picture.

6. Do you keep plants?

Answer: No, plants=bees. I hate bees. I’m not allergic or anything, I’ve just been stung one too many times for me to feel comfortable around bees. Hell if anything buzzes past my ear, I reflexively flinch even if it’s just a house fly. So no plants for me.

7. Do I name my plants?

Answer: *skips*

8. What artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

Answer: I write. A lot, though I’m a little self-conscious to post a lot of it

9. Do you like singing/humming to yourself?

Answer: Oh hell yes, I’ll do this all the time. At home, in the car, at work, with my friends … I’ve said too much.

10. Do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

Answer: I answered this one already, but since you asked me to do 1-100 (and like a fool who clearly does not value what he does with what is left of his evening) I’ll answer this one again. I’ll fall asleep on my stomach or back, and somehow find myself awake on my sides.

11. What’s an inner joke you have with your friends?

Answer: Ohhh there are several, all with an interesting story behind it. Anyone reading this feel free to ask about said stories of said inside jokes. However, the two best ones I can think of at the moment are: “White-face Mexican Jesus,” and “I’m trying to send a donkey to someone for their birthday, but customs is being a bitch!”

12. What is your favorite planet?

Answer: Pluto (”Ohhh but that’s not a planet anymore” fuck off it’s a planet if I say it’s a planet. And that’s the bottom line, because Stone Cold said so!)

13. What is something that made you smile today?

Answer: Listening to Neon by Jeff and Casey Lee Williams.

14. If you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

Answer: Shit. I’m still figuring Tumblr out, so I have NO idea how to link stuff (embed or html or whatever the fuck it is) so… for a base idea, probably something like 221b Baker Street from BBC’s Sherlock.

15. Go Google a weird space fact and tell us what it is.

Answer: *skips*

16. What is your favorite pasta dish?

Answer: Just give me spaghetti and meatballs.

17. What color do you really want to dye your hair?

Answer: Purple. It’s my favorite color, but I seem to have a distinct lack of purple in my wardrobe. But if I was to dye my hair, it would have to be a real dark purple.

18.  Tell something dumb/funny that has since gone down in history between you and your friends that is always brought up.

Answer: *deep breath* No.

19. Do you keep a journal? And what do you write/draw in it?

Answer: I do not keep or have ever kept a journal.

20. What is your favorite eye color?

Answer: Dark brown, kind of like my own.

21. Talk about your favorite bag. One that has been to hell and back, and that you love to pieces. 

Answer: Okay, well I still use this backpack. I’ve had it since my freshman year in high school. Its right strap is worn down, because I only ever wore it over my right shoulder, and still only ever wear it over my right shoulder. There’s also a Wings of Freedom button on the right strap, despite my dislike for the Attack on Titan anime (I liked the manga better). That backpack has been through high school, survived college, and gone to every single anime convention I’ve gone to since I’ve had it.

22. Are you a morning person?

Answer: No, I’m more of a crack of noon person. But high school has ingrained it into my brain that I need to wake up at the ass crack of dawn.

23. What’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days when you have 0 obligations?

Answer: Oh so everyday I don’t have work? Okay then. I either write or play video games, I’m currently playing Mass Effect Andromeda and loving it (despite the issue with the character customization).

24. Is there someone out there that you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

Answer: Yes, and they know who they are.

25. What’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into?

Answer: My friend Neil and I once had to break into his own house because he forgot his keys, and nobody else was home. There was a ladder under the balcony of his parents bedroom, we set it up, and Neil held the thing in place while I climbed up and over the ladder and over the balcony (thank god the sliding glass door was unlocked).

26. What shoes have you had forever and wear with every single outfit?

Answer: Normally my shoes don’t last that long.

27. What’s your favorite bubblegum flavor?

Answer: Ummmm… I don’t have a preference to bubble gum flavors. :3

28. Sunrise or sunset?

Answer: Sunset. Sleep is good.

29. What is something really cute one of your friends does, and is really endearing?

Answer: One of them is our designated group mom, and she cares for all of us. Love you Panda!

30. Think of it: Have you ever been truly scared?

Answer: Yes. There is a local haunted place close to where I live. It was an old rock crusher/munitions factory back in WWII, before it exploded and covered nearly all of it’s workers in acid. Since then the place has been haunted by the spirits of the workers who have died there. And then some idiots attempted to perform some ritual to summon some sort of demon … And it fucking worked. Anyways, my friend Neil and I go up there a few years ago on Halloween. In reality I allowed myself to be talked into it, but I was so freaked out the whole time we were up there, and I could have sworn I was seeing shit move just past the range of my vision. Anyways we are about to head back to his house, and we are right in front of the old rock crusher, when I become aware that Neil is not walking beside me. When I turn around, I see him passed out in front of the old structure … Then I hear this horrible voice in my ear: “Leave him, he belongs to us now.” 

31. What is your opinion of socks? Do you sleep with socks? Do you confine yourself to white sock hell? Really, just talk about socks.

Answer: *skips*

32. Tell a story that happened at 3am while you were with friends.

Answer: Ummmm there are no stories like that. Even if we’re at cons, we’re asleep before midnight.

33. What’s your favorite pastry?

Answer: Cinnamon covered doughnuts. So good~

34. Tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a child.

Answer: I had/have 3. A lamb, and 2 teddy bears. I don’t remember what happened to the lamb. I know it’s in the house somewhere, I just don’t know where. But as for the teddy’s: One is a standard-size teddy bear named *drumroll* Teddy. I was adopted when I was 4 days old, and Teddy is the only thing that I have from my birth mother. The second one is larger, kinda like the size of a carnaval prize. He was given to my by my Uncle Desmond “Dezzy” Caine (I really miss Uncle Dezzy), so he’s named the Dezzy Bear. I still sleep with both and I’ll be 25 in like 9 days. Dezzy still props up my pillows.

35. Do you like stationary and pretty pens?

Answer: Meh, they’re not so bad. I have really bad handwriting so I’m kinda divided 50/50

36. Which band’s sound would suit your mood right now?

Answer: Nightwish. Oh their lead singer’s voice is beautiful~

37. Do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

Answer: Messy, definately messy. Sure it looks disorganized, but I know where everything is in the mess.

38 Talk about your pet peeves.

Answer: No, it’s too late at night for that shit.

39. What color do you wear the most?

Answer: White. Undershirts mostly. I would wear more purple, but there is a distinct lack of purple in my wardrobe, and not a lot of purple clothing in the stores I shop at (mostly Hot Topic) that fit/I would wear.

40.Think of a piece of jewelry you own. What’s it’s story? Does it have any meaning to you?

Answer: Ummmm admittedly, I have a lot of jewelry pieces. Mostly necklaces that I rarely wear. My favorite by far, is a pewter dragon with it’s body wrapped around a blue crystal. I bought it at the county fair a few years back, and it was the last one that was ever sold from that vendor, because I havent seen his stall in the past few years.

41. What is the last book you really, really remember loving?

Answer: Monster Hunter Memoirs: Grunge. It’s a new book in the Monster Hunter series by Larry Correia.

42. Do you have a favorite coffee shop?

Answer: No, I don’t like coffee ever since I made the mistake of drinking the swill on an empty stomach.

43. Who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

Answer: My friend Neil, and that was years ago when we decided to head up to a local haunted area.

44.When was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

Answer: This morning in the shower :3

45. Do you trust your instincts a lot?

Answer: Yes. Going back to when Neil and I were up at the rock crusher, and I heard that voice in my ear. Something told me: “Neil is your brother, get his ass out of there!” I grabbed him, and ran for it.

46. Tell us of the worst pun you can think of.

Answer: Is this some sort of pun-ishment? Well I guess you can call me the Pun-isher (hate myself).

47. What food do you think should be banned from the universe?

Answer: …shit I had something for this, and now I can’t remember…

48. What was your biggest fear as a kid? Is it the same today?

Answer: I was afraid of the dark as a kid (mostly due to my brother being an ass), and that fear carried through. I still have to sleep with a light on.

49. Do you like buying CDs and records? What was the last one you bought?

Answer: I haven’t bought a CD or a record since I had my first iPod. The last one I bought was Disturbed’s Indestructible album.

50. What is an odd thing you collect?

Answer: I answered this one before, but I’ll do it again. I collect and assemble Gundam models. I have 8 currently. And I have yet to finish/start the assembly on the last 3.

51. Think of a person, what song do you affiliate with them?

Answer: I think The Animal by Disturbed would suit Neil just fine.

52. What are your favorite memes of the year so far?

Answer: *skips*

53. Have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? Beetlejuice ect. What do you think of them?

Answer: Nope.

54. Who is the last person you saw with a genuine look of sadness on their face?

Answer: That would be my cousin who had to recently put her elderly golden retriever to sleep. Something like that is never easy, and I know how bad the pain of losing a pet you have had for years feels.

55. What is the most dramatic thing you have done to prove a point?

Answer: Ummm that’ll be the time when *skips*

56. What are some things you find endearing in people?

Answer: When I find something, I’ll let you know.

57. Go listen to bohemian rhapsody. did you reenact the lyrics?

Answer: Um whoever doesn’t needs to be punished to the fullest extent of the law.

58. Who is the wine mom, and who is the vodka aunt in your group of friends?

Answer: Me on both occasions.

59. What are some of your favorite myths?

Answer: Mostly the ones involving the 80′s horror movie villians.

60. Do you like poetry?

Answer: Meh.

61. What is the stupidest gift you have ever given/received?

Answer: I gave my mom trick candles to use on my brothers cake a few years ago … And they found their way on to MY cake. Does that count?

62. Do you drink juice in the morning?

Answer: Very rarely, and when I do it’s cranberry.

63. Are you fussy about your books and music? Do you keep them organized or leave them be?

Answer: I leave them be. It goes back to the question of how I like to keep my room.

64. What color is the sky where you are right now?

Answer: It’s steely grey. It’s in the transition of seasons. Winter to Spring.

65. Is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time that you’d love to hang out with?

Answer: Yeah, my friend Neil.

66. What would your ideal flower crown look like?

Answer: *skips*

67. How do gloomy days make you feel?

Answer: Yep skipping that one too. *skips*

68. What is winter like where you live?

Answer: Hoth

69. What are your favorite board games?

Answer: Risk … and I cannot think of any other ones of the top of my head.

70. Have you ever used a ouji board?

Answer: Fuck no! I am not stupid enough to do that! Especially after what happened after the rock crusher.

71. What is your favorite kind of tea?

Answer: I don’t drink tea.

72. Are you a person who needs to note down everything you need to do or else you’ll forget it?

Answer: Only when I am at work, and even then I rarely note things down.

73. What are some of your worst habits?

Answer: *skips*

74. Describe a good friend of yours without using their names or gendered pronouns.

Answer: Hmmmm… Long and lanky, unkempt and scraggly hair and beard. Quick wit, sharp tongue, but with a big heart.

75. Tell us about your pets!

Answer: I had two white Siberian Huskies. Tundra and her brother Topaz were born on the same day I was, and we had 18 great years together.

76. Is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t?

Answer: Nope.

77. Pink or yellow lemonade?

Answer: Why not both?

78. Are in the minion fanclub or hateclub?

Answer: I’m in the “I don’t give a fuck” club.

79. What is one of the cutest things anyone has ever done for you?

Answer: They wouldn’t want me telling that story.

80. What color are your bedroom walls? Did you chose that color? If so why?

Answer: They’re white, but if I could paint them, they’d be purple.

81. Describe on of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

Answer: *skips*

82. Are/were you good in school?

Answer: I was decent. Not good, not bad, but decent.

83.what is some of your favorite album art?

Answer: I care more about the songs rather than the artwork.

84. Are you planning on getting any tattoos?

Answer: Yes, I’m planning on getting either the enochian sigil from Supernatural, or a full back tattoo of a set of angel wings with the words: “Angels on our shoulders” above them.

85. Do you read comics?

Answer: Not really

86. Do you like concept albums?

Answer: The hell are those?

87. What are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

Answer: All the James Bond movies, Star Wars including the prequils, and the 3 original Indiana Jones movies.

88. Are there any artistic movements you enjoy?

Answer: The only one I can think of (and I’m not sure it even counts) is the Renaissance

89. Are you close with your parents?

Answer: Yes very close, although they drive me crazy at times I still  love them.

90. Talk about one of your favorite cities.

Answer: *skips*

91. Where do you plan on traveling this year?

Answer: Well my group is planning on heading to Washington DC for Ota-con this year.

92. Are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese? Or do you barely sprinkle a pinch?

Answer: The cheese. Give me all the cheese!

93. What is the hairstyle you wear the most?

Answer: Short and very unkempt.

94. Who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

Answer: My girlfriend. :3

95. What are your plans for this weekend?

Answer: The same thing I do every night. Try to take over the world.

96. Do you install your computer updates quickly? or do you take forever?

Answer: Yes. :3

97. Myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and Hoggwarts house.

Answer: What the hell is the first one? But I’m an Ares, and a Gryffindor.

98. When was the last time you went hiking? And did you enjoy it?

Answer: it was years ago, and no I hate nature.

99. List some songs that resonate with your soul every time you hear them.

Answer: I have 220+ songs on my iPod that attest to that very question.

100. If you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, and one that allows you to go 5 years into the future, which would you press and why?

Answer: I’d go into the future. Past is past and that’s where it belongs. Plus when I go back to when I pressed said button, I would have an advantage over everyone else *evil smile*

[asgardian-light]

Random HC #11 (Continuation of #4 - #10)

Help?!

It’s too loud. It’s too bright. Even with shut eyes. His head is aching and his heart pounding. And this strange feeling in his stomach has grown even stronger and is almost painful now. He groans, but the far too loud seeming sound lets him wince and a pathetic whimper escapes him. “Robbie?! Robbie, can you hear me?” There’s something on his arm now. He wants to shrug it off, but he can’t muster the energy to do so. Instead, he rather groans again, followed by another whimper, due to the noise. “Robbie, please, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand or at least move your fingers!” begs the same worried voice again, shortly, before a warm hand grabs his own. This is ridiculous. Why would he do that? And why would there even be the possibility, of him NOT hearing the infernal yelling of Sportaflop? Wait. Sportacus?! What is he doing here? Wherever…‘here’ is… What… But at this moment, his memory returns and he remembers everything. He called Sportacus​ for help, so he could answer his questions about…love… The (embarrassing) talk took quite an unexpected turn and now he knows that Sportacus actually came to LazyTown with the order to capture HIM and take him to his people for some sort of unknown punishment… Since the hero refuses to do so, he now is, more or less, hiding in this town… And then, after hearing all this, Robbie now remembers, he…collapsed. Oh no… He reflexively brings his free hand to his face, wipes it and groans again. Just perfect… “Robbie!” the happy cry is followed by a cool hand, resting on his forehead “Robbie, you’re awake again!” “Of course, I am, Sportadork!” growls the villain and forces his eyes open, to glare at the other, but instead, they grow wide with shock and puzzlement and he so much as squeaks “What am I doing HERE?!?” “Please, Robbie, don’t fuss! Your lair would’ve been too far away and I also didn’t want to invade it without permission, so…” “I neither gave you the permission to TAKE ME HERE!” yells Robbie angrily with a weak flail of his arm, before he quickly pushes both of Sportacus’ hands off and sits up on the bed with a jerk. “Well you…were pretty much out of it, so I had no chance to ask you…” admits Sportacus with slight embarrassment, but then he warns worriedly “No, don’t sit up so quick! You might…” The next second, he has to catch Robbie in an embrace, to keep him from falling face first down from the bed, and murmurs “…That’s what I was going to say…” “…What…” once more, Robbie wipes his face, trying to hide his embarrassment of needing saving again by mumbling “…What is going on?…” “You collapsed, once you stood up from that bench,” Sportacus gently places the villain on the bed again, this time, keeping one hand gently rested on his chest to hold him down, his smile is soothing but obviously forced “Now you’re running a light fever. That’s probably caused by your lack of sleep and… When and what did you say, was the last time you ate something?” “You could’ve taken me anywhere! Why above all places did it have to be your HORRIBLE AIRSHIP??” asks Robbie back without bothering to answer the hero’s question at first, his eyes are reflecting fear and confusion now. Sportacus sighs lowly “Because it was the place, closest by and…I knew that I could take care of you here, best… But we’re not in the air anymore. I ordered it to land, otherwise, it would’ve become difficult to get you inside in this…condition… Maybe this soothes you a little…” “Soothes?! This ship HATES me! I guess, it even MOCKS me in a very weird way!” cries Robbie desperate and tries to pry Sportacus’ hand from his chest, but without success. The hero gives a small, gentle smile “You really don’t have to be afraid. It’s just a computer and it would never harm anybody. Besides, this time, you’re here for a good reason, not because you want to sabotage anything.” “I’m not scared!” huffs Robbie miffed and turns his head to look away, at the white wall. Everything in here is of a bright white. It’s awful! It’s just far too BRIGHT to be comfortable! How can one life here?! And how does he ALWAYS manage to get himself into such situations?! “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that…” murmurs Sportacus now softly and carefully feels Robbie’s forehead again. His heart breaks a little, when the other flinches again at this, but what bothers him even more is the radiating heat, coming from the villain… “Get AWAY from me, Sportaflop!” growls Robbie and grabs Sportacus’ hand on his head with both of his and tries to push him off. “But Robbie! You’re sick! You need help!” “I don’t need ANYTHING from ANYBODY! Especially no HELP from YOU!” he’s desperate now. He feels absolutely miserably and he just wants to go HOME. But Sportacus won’t let him… “But everybody needs help sometimes. And you certainly do now!” contradicts the hero firmly and his one hand moves from Robbie’s forehead to his wrist to feel the pulse. Seconds later, he furrows his brows in a concerned way, the other hasn’t seen it before with him “Robbie, I really don’t like this. I better call a doctor and…” “No!” Robbie’s one hand grabs the arm of the hero, while the fingers of his other dig into the soft surface of Sportacus’ bed beneath him and he furiously shakes his head “No, please don’t!” Sportacus looks at him in surprise for a moment, taking in his shaking, shallowly breathing feature, before he asks softly “Why not?” “I… Just…don’t. Okay? …Please…” he swallows hard and searches the hero’s gaze. “Okay,” Sportacus smiles at him, before shortly, gently squeezing the hand, still digging into the bed “I won’t. For now. But if it gets any worse…” “It won’t!” cuts Robbie him off, trying to fall back into character and into his normal voice “That’s just a little exhaustion… Nothing to worry about, really.” “Robbie, you COLLAPSED! And you even could’ve gotten hurt doing so!” “Yeah, right. I’ll consider a safer place than an uneven path to do so, next time,” he rolls his eyes and tries to sit up again. But Sportacus still doesn’t remove his hands, his voice and gaze uncharacteristic hard “I’m serious, Robbie. This is nothing to joke around with! Your body…” “Dare to give me ONE health advice now, and I SWEAR, I’ll leave the ship this instant!” At once, Sportacus’ face lights up “And if I don’t do this, you’re going to stay here and let me help you?” Robbie winces again. His head is still spinning violently, but yes… “…I suppose…that’s what it means, yeah…” “Okay! Deal!” Sportacus is all exited and happy about these news and claps his hands “Okay, first of all, you need to tell me exactly where you hurt and how you feel and…” “Sportaflop!” interrupts Robbie with a low groan “Could you PLEASE keep it down?! Because for starters, my head hurts incredibly and each loud voice feels like an explosion in my head!” “Sorry!” Sportacus lowers his voice at once and calms himself, watching the other, while he recovers a little from the yelling. After a few seconds of silence, Robbie suddenly asks in a whisper “…Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me? Why do you care so much about what is happening to me?…” “I already told you…” Sportacus carefully rests his hand at Robbie’s warm cheek and smiles gently “Loving is caring.” The strange feeling in Robbie’s stomach becomes overwhelming and he cries out, squeezing his eyes shut, he turns on his side and pulls his knees up to his chest in a surprisingly strong and fluid motion. “Robbie!” Sportacus quickly does a flip over the bed, to get to see the villain’s painful frown on his face, rather than his back. He notices the way, Robbie is holding his stomach and figures with great relief that it’s not his appendix, at least. But what is it? “Robbie… Robbie, look at me. Shush,” he gently slides his right hand under the other’s cheek and lifts his head a little, while his other hand moves to rest next to Robbie’s own and gently feel his stomach “It’s all right. It’s going to be okay. I promise…” With a low whimper, Robbie opens one eye to look at him, his voice a weak, barely audible rasp “…Why?…” Sportacus gives another, soothing smile and gently caresses the cheek with his thumb, his answer low, as well, but clear “Because I CARE.”