#keeps it in his closet gathering dust and brings it out to Impress

[pilferingapples]

Do you remember if Enjolras's signiture red was a musical addition or if there's any canon/brick evidence of that? On a similar note, do you have a masterpost or know someone who has a masterpost of the Les Amis and their canonical Brick descriptions?

Oh yay it's Red Waistcoat talk time:D

I do love the xylophone vest, but Enjolras wearing red is invented purely for the stage!

Red was very much a color associated with republicanism/revolutionaries/lefty political radicalists in canon era-- especially certain shades of red, like scarlet. But it was so associated with them that wearing a waistcoat in those shades was almost putting on a sign that said "Arrest Me, I'm a Revolutionary". You'd have to be pretty committed and pretty foolhardy to do that!

...like so:

Behind Feuilly marched, or rather bounded, Bahorel, who was like a fish in water in a riot. He wore a scarlet waistcoat, and indulged in the sort of words which break everything. His waistcoat astounded a passer-by, who cried in bewilderment:—

“Here are the reds!”

“The reds, the reds!” retorted Bahorel. “A queer kind of fear, bourgeois. For my part I don’t tremble before a poppy, the little red hat inspires me with no alarm. Take my advice, bourgeois, let’s leave fear of the red to horned cattle.” (4.11.1 , Hapgood translation)

The only other Ami we see expressly mentioned as wearing a red waistcoat is Grantaire, who rushes home to change into one and then brings it back to try and impress Enjolras that he's Very Serious about his activism :

Grantaire lived in furnished lodgings very near the Café Musain. He went out, and five minutes later he returned. He had gone home to put on a Robespierre waistcoat.

“Red,” said he as he entered, and he looked intently at Enjolras. Then, with the palm of his energetic hand, he laid the two scarlet points of the waistcoat across his breast.(4.1.6, Hapgood translation)

Book!Enjolras is, for reasons of medium, a much quieter and more severe character than his eyecatching stage counterpart, so he's probably not running around in red. Courfeyrac might wear a red waistcoat, Bahorel wears them so much it's part of his character introduction, but Enjolras probably doesn't.

Which brings us to canon character descriptions! Sticking to the purely physical here. This will be shorter than you might think, because Hugo really doesn't give us much! Most of it's from 3.4.1:

Enjolras: someone aptly summed it up once as "like Fantine but scary".And, well:

His eyes were deep, his lids a little red, his lower lip was thick and easily became disdainful, his brow was lofty. A great deal of brow in a face is like a great deal of horizon in a view. Like certain young men at the beginning of this century and the end of the last, who became illustrious at an early age, he was endowed with excessive youth, and was as rosy as a young girl, although subject to hours of pallor. Already a man, he still seemed a child. His two and twenty years appeared to be but seventeen..that face of a youth escaped from college, that page’s mien, those long, golden lashes, those blue eyes, that hair billowing in the wind, those rosy cheeks, those fresh lips, those exquisite teeth... (3.4.1, Hapgood)

Combeferre: Nothing. Not a word. He's a medical student who's done his internship by 1832. We get some scene -specific clothing mentions at the barricade (an apron for the operations he's doing, etc) , but nothing about his general look or style. Hugo describes his outlook as "less lofty, but broader" than Enjolras; some people like to interpret this to mean he's short and kinda Big, but it's not actual physical description, so it's up to you!

Prouvaire: most of what we get for him is about his mannerisms/body language, but still descriptive!

He spoke softly, bowed his head, lowered his eyes, smiled with embarrassment, dressed badly, had an awkward air, blushed at a mere nothing, and was very timid(3.4.1)...

Courfeyrac: nothing , again! He's described as having "roundness and radiance" but again, that's metaphorical; but a lot of people do run with the Roundness aspect! Presumably dresses reasonably well and in keeping with the current styles, judging by how often he mentions his accessories, but not the best at keeping those to hand.

Feuilly: again, no direct description. Unless you choose to interpret a the line "his fingers skilled in painting the delicate sticks of fans" as meaning something about him having Nice Hands, I guess.

Bahorel: scarlet waistcoats, frock coat, high energy, generally very Fashion Aware , Noticeable Gestures/poses.

Bossuet/Legle/Lesgle/L'aigle: Bald at 25, also Broke-Broke; his coat's specifically old and starting to fall apart. Usually written as cheerful/smiling.

Joly: "Joly had a trick of touching his nose with the tip of his cane, which is an indication of a sagacious mind." Sickly. Also very well-dressed, at least by 1832. Mostly smiling/cheerful.

Grantaire: ..whoo boy. "Il était laid démesurément" , or disproportionately ugly. Could also be read as extremely unpleasant/ill-favored, unsightly.. however you want to read it, generally A Mess, physically--but what exactly that means is up to interpretation. Has that one waistcoat mentioned above but doesn't wear it much. Fairly athletic.

That's it! there are suggestive context cues, like Prouvaire's medievalist Romanticism, and there's general fashions and styles of the era to look to, but nothing else really direct!

[leblancc]

surprise

characters : the phantom thieves of heart

— themes: spoiler-free, fem!reader, very fluffy, lumii really likes yusuke and it shows.

— note : sumi is excluded bc i wasn’t sure how confidant i was writing her, and also bc i didn’t want to lol

When it comes to your birthday, the Phantom Thieves go all out! There’s not so much as any question to it and anything less would be insulting. They plan this out for weeks in advance, maybe even a month! They have a few close calls, but they manage to keep it a surprise until this very special day. Their original plan was to keep Makoto out of the loop as her birthday’s directly after hers and some of their plans tie into their little surprise for her, but there’s no keeping secrets from the Makoto Niijima. She always finds out and it’s almost intimidating, but it’s more impressive than anything. And she really didn’t want a big party or a surprise so she was more than content with a little get together. After what happened in Sojiro’s house, she doesn’t think her heart can take it. Considering they have various means of gathering information and they’re a close-knit group of friends, it’s really unlikely that they would find out about your birthday and its date at the last minute if you don’t tell them about it. They have a brilliant hacker who can get them information in a snap of a finger, after all, and if you’re a student at Shujin then someone’s going to be going through your school records to see when it is. Even in the case that they find out at the last minute, that only makes them want to work harder so this day is even greater!

A few of them play dumb like they don’t know your birthday is coming up and act surprised when you bring it up, like No way! I had no idea! It’s actually pretty convincing, but what do you expect from the elusive Phantom Thieves of Heart? Makoto may even chime in about how close your birthday is to hers with a warm smile to try and direct the attention off of them before someone (they’re all looking at Ryuji) slips. Those who don’t go along with the act are outwardly incredibly excited and ask you about you how you feel almost being a year older and what you want and all of that, but they all are otherwise refusing to give away what they have up their sleeves. It’s kind of comical how hard Ryuji is struggling to keep his mouth shut and is fighting for his life to make sure it doesn’t carelessly roll off of his tongue. If it wasn’t for some of the others then he may have accidentally done so. The group decides to discuss what they can over text, but there are some things that’s easier spoken about in-person. Futaba is in a similar boat as the ever lovable blond, but out of excitement than an actual struggle to keep a secret. She promises not to say a word and zips her lips shut, throwing away the key over her shoulder with a silly smile. If you start to grow suspicious of their plans and try to figure out what they’re up to, their lips are sealed and try to shift the conversation.

Akira has millions of yen literally collecting dust faster than it’s being put to use and for that reason, he’s more than happy to spend it on you and their plans for your surprise. Gifts, decorations, food, entertainment, literally anything and everything. They even got Sojiro in on this and got the cafe reserved for the evening, and he even let them store their stuff in the closet across from the bathroom! The others chipped in, too, because they wanted to help make today a day that you’d never forget! Even Yusuke who dumped all of the money sitting in his wallet into getting you something he knew you’d like and decorations that would spruce the place up. Knowing his troubles with money, there wasn’t very much in it in the first place but he saved up as much as he could. When today finally came and the customers cleared the cafe, they were all radiating excitement and ready to get to work. It was so hard not to say anything when the words were sitting at the tips of their tongues whenever they spoke to you. They played it cool all the while congratulating you for being one year older and basically treating you like royalty the entire day. It was kind of embarrassing, but it was so sweet and caring all the same. Soon enough, it’s time to prepare and they all jump into action. While the girls meet up at Leblanc to set up, the boys are left to distract you.

Like a vulgar and rowdy prince, Ryuji is the first to whisk you away with the biggest and cutest smile you would ever see on his face. It’s so contagious and he can’t seem to wipe it away, nor does he really want to. Nothing could ruin his good mood, except you enjoying yourself and he tries to avoid that at all costs. The entire time, he’s given one priority to keep in mind: keep you away from Leblanc. That’s literally it and he’s confident he can get that done. He can totally do that! It’s easy as hell! It’s why he can’t that gets him flustered and scrambling for an answer that is so close to giving him and the plan as a whole away. He swears that the guys told him what to say before he was off, but his mind is too scrambled to remember it. He blurts out, it’s under renovations! And he doesn’t know how convincing it is, but it somehow works and he takes your hand and drags you off to something he knows will redirect your attention. He isn’t sure how well it worked out and is literally sweating buckets, but you drop the subject. Ryuji considered bringing you to his favorite ramen shop as he has so many good memories there—and it’d be like a date, he thinks and fruitlessly tries to keep himself from becoming even more flustered—but he knows that he can’t. It wouldn’t pass enough time and he also doesn’t want you getting full before their surprise. Instead, Ryuji takes you to the amusement park! Any ride you want to go on, just point it out and consider it done!

Even if it’s something he would usually be against trying, it’s your special day so he’ll make an exception just this once. How could he say no when you’re looking at him like that? Ryuji might be a little dizzy and woozy after being spun around a billion times on a roller coaster, so you’ll have to give him a second but he doesn’t look regretful. In an attempt to play it off, he gives you a smile and a thumbs-up before picking himself and asking where you want to go next. He tries to show off the entire time and impress you by winning all sorts of prizes that catch your eye. He doesn’t win all of them because, let’s be honest, they’re rigged but it’s miraculous luck that he manages to get what he does. He’s so proud of himself after that, and he can’t seem to get the sight of your smile out of his mind. He’ll carry your prizes if you want him to, especially if your arms get tired! Or if your feet start to hurt, he’ll carry you on his back! Having you so close makes him a little flustered, but no way in hell is he going to admit that. If you two go on the carousel, all of the words that struggled to reach the light sit on his tongue. It’s just the two of you and there’s literally nothing that could get in the way now. He knows it’s not a good time and he wants to so badly, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep his mouth shut for. He does express how much he cares for you and that he’s glad that you celebrated today with him before changing the topic, but you can’t miss the red of his ears. Unfortunately, time is up when he receives a text message and you two bump into your next distraction on the way out.

Next is Yusuke. He says that him passing by the amusement park is coincidental, but it’s definitely odd how he was there as you two were leaving and there at all. It’s not usually somewhere he visits, and it’s definitely far from his usual hangouts. It didn’t help that Ryuji conveniently had to be somewhere and left the two of you to hang out. Spending time with the artist was always fun and doing something with him was nice, especially today and so you didn’t think too much of it. Truth be told, he didn't have a plan and still doesn’t as the two of you are walking off. He was so focused on making sure he had enough money to chip in for the party that he didn’t think this far ahead. He could have asked Akira for some money, but he didn’t think he could ever repay him. He feels horrible because this is exactly something Ryuji would do, but he has no time to linger on his regrets and happily focuses on you and whatever you have to say. He’s the least likely to spill the beans that are today’s plans, but he might mutter something about it under his breath in thought. It’s quiet and vague, but it confirms that they’re up to something. He’s literally broke beyond belief so he can’t take you anywhere that isn’t free, but that’s not always a bad thing as good things don’t always cost money.

He may sneak you into his dorm room if you want to take a break from walking or sit by the air conditioner. Unfortunately, he may be tall but he doesn’t have the physical strength to carry you for very long. He’s literally a stick in comparison to the blond. You better believe he’ll introduce you to his lobsters and I have no doubt in my mind that he named them after famous Japanese artists. It’s incredible that he still has them and has yet to eat them, but he seems to love them quite a bit based on the spacious tank. After that, he may offer to show you some beautiful sights he knows of by the pond or in the city as a whole. It takes him a second because the words are so new and peculiar on his tongue, but he mentions that they can’t compare to your radiance before walking off and continuing on his way as if he didn’t just flirt with you. They’re his favorite spots and he wouldn’t mind showing them to his favorite person, or even linger around Central Street to people watch. Yusuke can feel your hands brushing against his and keeps looking down every time he feels it, and it takes some time before he commits to it. He reaches out and then retracts it before he thinks you notice, only to find fingers knit against his. He’s a little awkward in returning the gesture, but he’s trying and is comfortable. It’s more than likely that he’ll somehow start to ramble about something and go on and on about his ideas. It’s a wonder how he hasn’t lost his breath. He’ll happily indulge in your words until the topic drifts, but if either of you realize that you’ve both gotten off track then neither of you mention it. He’s so engrossed in the conversation that he doesn’t see the two that are approaching until he sees your attention shift and follows it.

Standing in front of you two are the last of today’s distractions, although Yusuke looks confused yet confused to see the both of them there. You can’t really blame him and feel the same way considering they’re at each others throats as rivals, and your leader keeping the leather gloved tucked into his back pocket only strengthened that competitive drive. While they jabbed one another with their elbows and the Detective Prince gives your leader a smile that’s almost convincing had it not been for the fact you knew him well enough to know what was real, they seem to have come to some sort of truce. The thought of that makes your heart flutter—they called a truce for you. The original plan was that they were going to go off and do something individually like the others, but they bumped into one another by actual coincidence and the girls were almost done so there was no point in drawing it out for much longer. Hanging out with those two is pretty much chaos from then on, and it’s clear Akechi doesn’t like the idea of sharing. They both have ideas as to what to do, but it’s a matter of whether or not you want to do them and if there’s enough time to do them all. Your Detective Prince offers to go around Kichijoji as it’s one of his favorite places to play billiards and darts, or window-shop, or just sight-see. Akira, meanwhile, offers to play baseball or go shopping in the underground mall, really anything you want as long as you enjoy yourself.

Goro gets all triumphant whenever you choose one of the ideas he offered and he can’t help the smirk that appears and cracks at his usual facade. He has a public appearance to maintain, even on your birthday, but his little actions go a long way for people who know him so well. If you decide on your leader’s ideas, his reaction isn’t as obvious and is quite easy to miss, but it’s there. A smile creeps onto his face that itches at Akechi’s nerves and an adorable twinkle lingers in his eyes, and it only grows stronger the longer he looks at you. They’re literally bickering over what would be better to do given your limited time together, and it would be a lie if it doesn’t get a bit exasperating, but it is funny. If it gets crowded, Akira (with max charm) will leave his hand on the small of your back and stand close enough that his shoulders brush against yours so the two of you don’t get swept apart by passerby. Akechi, meanwhile, in a moment of hidden jealousy, may slip his hand into yours and gives you a smile. “A better way of keeping you close,” he says with a sweet smile that is only genuine for you. It dies when Akira mirrors his action, but the truce must echo in his mind because he doesn’t say anything. Soon enough, the frizzy haired boy takes a glance to his phone when it beeps and the two glance to one another.

They offer to bring you to Leblanc to finish the day with some coffee and curry and look confused when you say that you thought it was under renovations, but Akechi goes along with Ryuji’s explanation and say that it wasn’t anything major. Neither of the two give anything away and are as cool as cucumbers, but Akira looks a bit excited for some reason whenever he gives his phone his attention for a few moments. When you three make it back to Yongen-Jaya and get to the cafe, the lights are off and it takes your leader only a moment to unlock the door where Akechi holds the door open and lets you in first. When the overhead lamps flip on, the Thieves jump out and throw their hands up. Aside from Yusuke and Makoto, who are off to the side with smiles that pull at their eyes and hurt their cheeks and clapping. There’s a massive sign hanging from the ceiling with Happy Birthday! written across it in a variety of colors with all sorts of decorations strewn about the room. Your favorite foods and drinks are set out and there’s a whole pile of presents off to the side—some of them are wrapped so precisely that you almost don’t want to tear it off and ruin it, while others aren’t nearly as neat but there was a clear attempt. They all usher you in to make you comfortable and a couple of the girls giggle at your reaction and their surprise party can finally start.

The organized setup of food and supplies the ladies of your group worked hard on had gradually diminished into chaos. The party wasn’t all that grand, in retrospect. It was just the ten of you and it felt more cozy and like you were at home than anything, but if Sojiro walked in then you were sure his old heart would’ve given out at the sight of it all. Cups and plates and other supplies were scattered around, some sticking close to those who used them in the first place and others forgotten in the excitement of it all. Makoto happily took care of the discarded and torn wrapping paper, folding and tossing it out in a large, transparent bag while Akira handled the dishes with an practiced touch. A combined scent of the food that was so incredibly made and nicely set out wafted by your nose, but there was so little left that it took you several seconds to even realize that it was there in the first place. Coats that were no longer needed were strewn along the backs of the seats when they no longer fit the rack by the door, no doubt unadjusted to such a large gathering that wasn’t hosted upstairs for Phantom Thief business. The state of the cafe, although in a desperate need of a cleaning and definitely not under renovations at any recent point, was the last thing on your mind when it came to what was in front of you. 

Between prodding at the carefully placed tape with your nail, you chime: “You all didn’t have to do this, you know.”

Your appreciation and gratitude through your words and smile doesn’t miss its mark and a few of the others beam in acknowledgement. Yusuke, however, refuses to tear his eyes away from the item in front of you and you’re starting to sense his terror that you’re going to accidentally damage the masterfully hidden canvas. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what it is. It’s Yusuke, and you’d be more surprised if it wasn’t something related to art but you’re happy to receive it. The way it’s shaped and the dip in the back reveals itself without so much as needing to see it, but his pieces are always stunningly beautiful that you know this one won’t let you down. It’s tradition not to open presents in front of the giver, you know that well, but everyone was so excited to see your reaction that you couldn’t say no to them. Though with the piercing gaze he’s giving it, you almost don’t want to just so he’ll take a breath. The other gifts you’ve received were set off to the side beside you on the table, most open and others still awaiting but the stack is intimidating and prods at your heart. They got you so much. Sure, there were nine of them, but it was still a lot and you weren’t sure how you’d ever make it up to them.

“Of course we did!” Ryuji interjected, cake smeared across his lips and in one cheek. He swallowed thickly—Ann belched off to the side and held a hand to her chest while Haru giggled with a hand to her lips—and waved a chocolate-covered fork in your direction. “This is your day and you’ve worked so hard, you deserve it!”

“For once, I agree.” There’s a thinly veiled insult in Akechi’s tone, but it goes right over the head of the blond beside him at the counter.

“I wanna see! I wanna see!” Futaba cheered as she leapt up to her knees to peer over the back of the seat Ann sat on. “Jeez, Inari. How much tape did you put on it?”

Yusuke doesn’t respond to the hacker’s benevolent tease, or maybe he doesn’t have time to, because you tear at the last of the paper and reveal the present in its full glory. Your lips part to say something, but words fail you and leaving you staring in awe at what laid on the table in front of you. A genuine but routinely thank you sits on your tongue, but is chained to the muscle and unable to move from where it is. You can faintly hear the others chatting around you, but their voices are hazy and go in one ear and out the other if they successfully manage to become coherent. You don’t even realize that the wrapping paper is taken away until a hand carefully raises the canvas up and you grasp the sides as if it was going to be taken away. Your shock overpowers your embarrassment and you can’t get your eyes to look away from it for very long. It’s a portrait of you and you recognize the background as one of your favorite places to go, and a place you’ve brought him before a few times already. Your doppelgänger has her back to him and is smiling over her shoulder at him, hair brushed back by the wind so perfectly it’s not in her face but still whisked by the element. There are so many colors and they all mesh so creatively and wonderfully with one another, and the lighting only highlights her features—your features. You know that it’s you, but each stroke is so delicate and purposeful and refuses to not highlight something about you that it makes you feel so...amazing, as if he painted you like you were some sort of goddess.

You can feel Morgana shift behind you where he was curled up comfortably behind your head like a living pillow and you’re careful not to move so you don’t accidentally take him down. His tail swipes along your cheeks and the fuzzy, borderline ticklish sensation against your skin snaps you out of your thoughts. “You’ve outdone yourself, Yusuke,” he complimented with an impressed grin, but it doesn’t scratch the surface of how much of a masterpiece it is.

“Thank you,” your resident artist replied, but you can hear a slight waver of worry as he directs his attention to you beside him. “May I get your opinion?”

“It’s wonderful,” you whisper and brush your thumb against it. “I don’t know what to say...”

“That means they like it,” you hear Morgana say, followed by a soft ah.

When you’re finally able to release the painting from your possessive grasp and set it down with a careful effort that he seems to appreciate, you throw your arms around him. He’s stiff against you and a few giggles and teases reach your ears this time, but you don’t pay them any mind. Yusuke awkwardly, unsure even, returned the gesture. Only a couple pairs of arms wrap around you both after that and you immediately know the distinct smell of Ann’s perfume when you smell it, and the playful but firm hold around you gives itself away as Ryuji. More embraces join soon after one-by-one, and a small weight forms in your lap followed by a small head rubbing against your stomach. You can hear one of Akira’s rare laughs—it’s soft and lasts only a couple seconds, but it’s as beautiful as the sound of wind-chimes—and Akechi’s grumbles and you realize he’s been more or less coerced into joining and held down by a few other arms. Someone’s cheering and another one joins and it’s so loud, but you can’t stop the smile from forming on your face.

Best birthday ever.

© leblancc, all rights reserved. do not edit, translate, or repost my work on any platform.

[ghostedgwen]

if it isn’t you | p.parker (part one)

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 : 𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖠𝗇𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗐!𝖯𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗍. 𝖠𝗅𝗌𝗈, 𝖨 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖯𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝟪𝟢% 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍. 

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀/𝗌 : 𝗇𝗐𝗁 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍, 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖿𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 (𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇) 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁, 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 : 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇 - 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 she 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 he𝗋 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾. 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 : 𝟤.𝟥𝗄

                          •·································· • ··································•

It's been a week since Peter got back to his own universe, he still hasn't recovered from that and was mostly kept awake at night exploring the millions of possibilities.

Some nights were full of thrill, imagining so many impossible scenarios while the rest are reserved for angst when he'd imagine a universe where he caught her just in time.

A universe where he saved her and he continued to live a double life, going out into the world as a masked hero and coming home to her right after.

It was a bittersweet thought and he indulged himself plenty— but on a lighter note, Spider-Man came out of his retirement.

After 1 year of being mad and being clouded by rage in the mask, he gave it up to gather his thoughts and properly mourn.

Until the short break turned into 3 years of no web-slinging hero appearing even as a blur. To this day, murals are being painted in his honour and articles keep being written.

He was fine being slowly forgotten, his suit collecting dust inside the box in his closet until something urged him to put it on again one night and he ended up in another world, meeting the other Petersand gaining a new perspective.

To know there are other versions of himself out there sharing his loss and winning their own battles, he felt it was wrong to just give up. And that younger Peter's words hit him hard.

"When you do the things I can and you don't, then bad things happen - they happen because of you."

And he began looking around him, all these crimes occuring while he pretended he was some nobody making his way around life in the streets of Queens - it's all on him.

He can stop all of it, he can help and save people so why shouldn't he?

Peter glance down at his watch, he's still two hours too early for his job interview at The Daily Bugle so he's taking his time and strolling around in civilian clothes.

He paused when he saw a girl painting on a mural, cans of paint displayed next to her and her clothes were decorated with so much red and blue.

She had on a light pink pullover and a skirt that he guessed to be black or blue with how much blue paint was on it at this point.

He felt compelled to approach so he did, gaping at the image she's bringing to life with every stroke and he recognized it right away.

"Oh, I got a cute audience." He turned to see you looking at him, splashes of red on your hair and some on your cheeks. "Hey there stranger!"

He hesitated but gave an awkward wave. You chuckle at that and gesture to the wall that's yet to dry.

"Big fan?" You ask, cracking your knuckles and feeljng proud of your progress so far. You finished 30% of it in two hours which is impressive with how slow you usually work but it's an unusually hot day and you didn't like the idea of getting sunburn.

"Uhm. Not really." He shrugged.

You frown at that, dropping your paintbrush and looking over his shoulder to see another stranger approach.

"Oh wow, is that Spider-Man?" The guy asked and you nod. "Great work. Too bad it's wasted on that guy."

You turn sharply at him and raise a brow, crossing your arms and locking your intense glare on him.

"Excuse you?"

"Hey I get that you're a fan but you gotta admit that it was selfish of him to just disappear like that - and now he's back like normal?"

You felt irritated. You did not just spend two hours of your day under the intense heat of the sun, dedicating a mural to New York's own personal hero for this random jerk to discredit him.

"Selfish? How so? Last I checked, he doesn't owe anyone shit." He parted his lips to speak again but you cut him off. "That's a real person under that suit. With his own personal life and feelings, he can't be a hero everyday just like how you can't possibly be this annoying."

"I don't think he's entirely wrong though." The cute brunet behind you spoke up and you look over your shoulder to glare at him, he gives a sheepish smile - raising both hands up in mock defense.

"You too?" You roll your eyes and turn back to the annoying stranger. "Look, I'm not gonna convert you into a Spider-Man fan but it's fucking insensitive to come over here and give me that backhanded compliment. I worked my ass off in this and I don't really need the negativity."

The guy's face turned sour and he began walking away, mumbling the foul 'b word' under his breath and you huff out in disappointment.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to insult your hero." The brunet spoke again and you smile at him.

"No hard feelings."

"It's just - if you can, if you had the abilities to save people, wouldn't using them for good be the right thing to do?"

You blink at him, processing his question and clearjng your throat once you pieced together your reply.

"Yes but the world hasn't collapsed in on itself before Spider-Man arrived, if he really gotta go then, he should. His help is much appreciated, really but - we were mostly fine before him, we'll manage after he's gone."

He stood there, shocked at your response that he stared blankly for a solid minute. But you didn't notice or get creeped out while you got busy thinking of what to do with the background.

You planned to make this mural a simple close-up of his mask with splashes of red and blue for extra effects but with the conversation you just had— you got inspired.

Maybe including more poses of him swinging around in the background could help make it better?

"You're very talented by the way." He said, finally regaining the ability to speak again and you grinned at the compliment.

"Thanks." You replied, turning to him and offering your hand, making sure it was clean by wiping it down your skirt first. "My name's ____, nice to meet you, stranger."

He accepted and gave you a small smile, drinking in your appearance and finding you to be quite an odd person. In a good way, of course.

"Peter Parker. It's nice to meet you too." .

You really shouldn't have but it's almost tradition for you to go out at midnight every friday to go to a drive thru and buy food to eat while you stayed awake, cramming to make it before the deadlines - but your car had a flat tire.

You debated not going or just ordering in, but you also felt frustrated. You've been staring at a blank canvas for hours and not even a speck of inspiration was coming to you.

So you figured maybe a walk can fix the art block. You really needed to pass that painting by tomorrow and you can only afford to finish it at ungodly hours while you are out in the day working on your mural.

You stuff you hands in you hoodie pockets and breathe in the chilly air of the night. Wondering if you should grab something from McDonald's or take an extra 3 blocks walk to the 24-hours ramen place.

Walking past a dark alley, you heard shuffling and turned to look at the direction of the noise. Squinting your eyes and finding two masked men going through some duffel bag and felt the hair on the back of your neck stand.

You took slow and careful steps backwards, mind racing from the fact you are so fucking dead if they find out you saw them.

The streets are empty and the nearest open facility you can spot is a good jog away, no one would be able to help you and there's two of them - you don't exactly wanna put your 2 years martial arts lessons you took when you were 9 to the test right now.

But of course, it's just your luck when you hit a can and it clanks. Grabbing the attention of the masked men who are alerted by your presence.

Of course, you'd die because New Yorkers are filthy and a literal can of beans being litered out in the streets gave you away.

They approach you, each holding a knife and you let out a sigh of relief. A knife is still dangerous but that, you can run away from. A bullet is harder to dodge.

"Hey, shouldn't you not be doing crimes because Spider-Man is back?" You ask, slowly reaching for the pepper spray in your hoodie pocket and raking hold of it.

"Who cares? He takes day offs now so we should be fine."

You couldn't hold back your laughter and it caught them both off guard, giving you the window of opportunity to swiftly pull out the spray and unleash hell on one of the two criminals' face.

He yelled in agony, hands on his face and he stumbled to the ground when he tripped over the can.

Guess the can redeemed itself now, you turn to the other and narrowly dodge his knife. You began praying to all the gods that exist that you still had it in you and blocked his arm with your own, sending a punch to his gut with your other hand.

He stumbled backwards, clutching his stomach. You kick his knee, making him drop the knife with a groan and you kick it away. You could almost applaud yourself when you felt someone's arms wrap around you - the other guy caging you in his arms and allowing his friend to recover.

Picking his knife up and turning his attention to you. Well, surely you can be excused from missing a deadline if you're dead.

But he didn't get the chance when a web shot at his arm and he's pulled harshly away, knife landing a few feet and he's stuck to the ground, a strong web keeping him glued down and you took the momentary distraction to stomp your foot on the guy holding you.

He lets go and you scramble away, leaving Spider-Man to deal with him. Punching him right across his face and webbing his torso so he can't move.

"Are you okay there, ma'am?" He asked, turning to you and you nod at him. Still quite shaken from being accosted by two criminals and feeling a little startruck from finally meeting your hero.

"Yes - I think," You look down at yourself and scan your body for injuries. There were thankfully none. "I am. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, you really shouldn't walk around alone at night this late." He stepped forward to get a better look on your face and almost stumbled backwards when he recognized you from earlier.

"Yeah. It was dumb but my shitty car just had to be flat." You explain and he chuckles at that. "Nice to finally meet you, Spidey."

"Spidey?"

"We're basically best friends now. I painted your mask on too many walls - legally of course." You tell him with a smirk, now recovering from the previous shock and he takes note of how you seem unbothered by all this.

"I take it you're a fan then?"

"A big one too, you should check out my work some time."

He scratch the back of his neck, you squint your eye at that. Seems that's a habbit, given as he's doing it with a suit on.

"I'm sure I've seen some of them already while swinging around." He shot webs at the two criminals again, seeing them recover and stuck them together. "Should probably do that just in case. You should also call the cops, they'll take care of those two."

You nod, fishing for your phone and quickly dialing 911. Spider-Man stood there, watching you make the phone call and once you finished, you turn back to him.

"Well, it was great seeing you but I'm gonna go back home now and just forget about midnight snacks."

He frowned at that, you went out in the dangerous dark streets of New York for midnight snacks? He shook his head, ending his attempts at understanding you, he probably won't see you again after this anyways.

It's only a pleasant coincidence that you met him as both Peter and Spider-Man now.

"Do you mind if I take you then? Just to make sure you won't run into more guys like these?"

You stare at his mask for a while, hearing the sounds of sirens approach and nod. Accepting his offered hand.

He lands in front of your apartment building and you couldn't wipe the grin off your face. That was amazing! You felt the same as you do after riding a roller-coaster only this time, it's better because you swung around New York WITH SPIDER-MAN!!

"Thanks for the lift." You tell him and take a step back. "It was nice to meet you, Spider-Man. Thanks for saving me."

"You're welcome, ____."

He knows your name and he shouldn't because you haven't given it to him yet but you kept your expression masked under your huge grin. It wasn't hard when you could still feel the goosebumps all over your body from the thrill.

He knows you. Spider-Man knows you so that means you also know him and the thought excited you.

It's been a while since something this interesting happened to you, your life has been mostly normal but overnight - you fought off two criminals by yourself (sort of) and got a hint about Spider-Man's identity.

You nod at him, turning around to open the door but pausing to look over your shoulder while you held the door ajar.

"My friends just call me MJ so, just call me that. G'night, Spidey." You then enter the apartment building, disappearing from view and you left the masked hero standing outside your apartment building frozen.

His entire body stiff from shock as your words began registering in his head. Your name is MJ... he has an MJ.

to be continued. part two | part three

[thedeathdoctor]

Saved by the Succ

Thomas Hewitt x Reader

Inspired by this post by @raccoonmonster

NSFW crack under the cut

Fire burned in your chest as your lungs worked overtime to provide oxygen to your aching legs. Running was never your forte, instead, you preferred hiking and long walks; currently you had no choice. Not with the man after you, surprisingly fast for his hulking form at times, swinging a chainsaw wildly at your heels. Nothing in the area looked familiar, just long, brittle grass and waist high briars that seemed to reach out for you, drawing long, red streaks across your exposed skin. 

Up ahead, a long forgotten farmhouse caught your attention, barely visible through the surrounding overgrowth. Perhaps if you could hide and wait...he might keep running. Hide a day or two for him to leave for sure, then try to walk along the roads until you could find someone to flag down. You didn’t have much energy left to keep going. 

Taking a quick glance back, you could no longer see the man behind you, though the chainsaw motor could be heard still moving towards you, loudly clearing the brush you had slipped through moments before. You spurred yourself on, promising your struggling body the rest it demanded when you were safely hidden.

You ran past the house and once you were certain that there was no line of sight between you, circled around to a side entrance. Gingerly, you stepped around the weave of vines and dead growth as silently as you could. Old floorboards creaked under your feet, and you dropped to your hands and knees. As a kid, you’d learned how to sneak out of your parent’s house with its creaky foyer once you were old enough to find you way into more trouble. 

Light filtered down into the house though the holes and broken windows in the walls, dust dancing in the beams. In the hallway of the first floor, you found a mostly intact closet and scrambled inside. Your back pressed into the corner as you hugged your knees to your chest, bringing your forehead to rest on them to stifle your heaving breaths. 

Your ears were on high alert as you scrunched your eyes shut and prayed for help. Outside, you could hear the man searching for you. You wondered when he would look inside the house, tearing though the fragile wood that veiled you. 

Finally, after an eternity had passed, aging you well over a hundred years, the sound dimmed before subsiding completely. And still you did not move. You did not move until the light filtering into the closet had faded entirely, leaving you alone in the dark. 

You were exhausted, but something in the back of your head urged you that you needed to keep going. You needed to find help. 

Tentatively, you emerged from your hiding spot. Soft, cool moonlight faintly illuminated the house, giving you enough confidence to stand up. You hadn’t heard anything of the man for hours. Besides, no one in rural anywhere did much of anything between sunset and sunrise. With the light of the moon, you could start walking and get a decent distance away in the hours of the night. 

You exited the house, leaving through the least overgrown doorway. The faint impression of a private road leading away from the house curved off towards the left. 

You set off towards the road, not looking forward to the journey that lay ahead of you. You didn’t want to think about it, the other dangers that came with the night, coyotes, unseen venomous snakes, hidden holes in the ground that waited to break your ankles. Though the moonlight aided your vision, you remained focused intently on the ground as you walked, searching for the next safe footstep. 

As you rounded the bend in the path, a crashing sound behind you startled you before enormous arms picked you up and tossed you over the person’s shoulder. A scream escaped your lips as you, though upside down and closer than you ever wanted, recognized the blood stained apron of your pursuer. Your body was weak and tired, and you did not have much left in you to struggle to escape. All you could do was rest your head, your cheek smushing up against the man’s belly with his every step. 

Your arms dangled limply, brushing the bottom of the leather apron. The blood rushing to your head gave you a lightheaded sensation and you felt nearly giddy. Thoughts of how to escape him turned into an acute awareness of his powerful thighs as they flexed under the apron. You wondered dumbly to yourself about what size cock such a man like this would hold. 

Whatever the reason, either the exhaustion, terror, or the memento mori of it all, you slid a hand up towards his crotch and began to rub him through the heavy apron. Truly, you weren’t sure if he had noticed it, much less felt it because his gait hadn’t changed. Still, you persisted, feeling a slight bulge form, pressing back against the leather. 

The anticipation of his reaction motivated you to gather up the apron skirt in one hand, moving it aside for your other to slide across the front of his pants. His crotch was warm, even through the rough fabric of his trousers. Still mostly soft, his cock easily spanned from your fingertip to your wrist. Gently, you began to knead it with your palm, feeling it grow and stiffen against your hand.

From behind the grotesque mask, a soft, low moan was the audible feedback you wanted to hear. You didn’t expect it to sound so...husky, deliciously erotic for the voice of a monster. You realized that his breathing had gotten heavier, and his pace began to slow from the brisk powerwalk that it had been. 

He was half hard when he let out another moan. The free hand at his side twitched as if he wanted to readjust himself, but couldn’t bring his hand to touch yours. Certainly very strange for a man who held your thighs tight to keep you over his shoulder. 

The curiosity overwhelmed you, and you slipped your fingers past the waistband of his trousers. Your hand explored where you desperately wanted - but couldn’t - see. Precum dribbled and drooled from the tip; you used the generous fluid to slick your fingers before proceeding further. His foreskin easily retracted to expose the sensitive head, and you reveled in sliding it gently back and forth. 

He now struggled to walk, each step getting slower and slower. Yet he did not stop you, despite his strength. This man had the power to do whatever he wanted with you and still allowed you to continue. A brief thought flickered across your mind. You wondered if anyone had ever touched him like this before.

Your fingers wrapped around the top of his cock as your thumb traced circles around the tip. In your grasp, he grew until the tip of your thumb and middle finger were unable to meet when wrapped around. He had stopped walking, now just standing in the path letting you explore his length. 

You began to stroke him, conservatively at first, your hand sliding over the protruding veins that crisscrossed his shaft. He was impressive, in both length and girth, and you wanted nothing more than to fill yourself up with it. Your body, coursing with arousal, ached with your need, and you were unable to do what you wanted with him from your current position. 

Greedily, you pulled his apron away further, your elbow keeping it in place to free up your other hand. His trousers were easily undone, letting you slip his cock out so you could stroke him with both hands. His head tilted back, ever so slightly as he groaned in pleasure, and slowly, carefully sunk to his knees. The hulking, murderous man was becoming putty in your hands, his hips mindlessly matching the pace you stroked him at. 

The arm holding you over his shoulder relaxed and you took full advantage, swinging your right leg over his head and hooking your calves behind his head, centering your body with his. With your thighs squeezing his head, he had a spectacular view of your ass that he was unable to keep his hands off of. Drooling and throbbing, his cock was mesmerizing, and you held it in both hands as you brought the tip to your lips. 

The sounds he made were exquisite, deep, heady moans over his ragged, desperate panting encouraged you to be more vocal; you let out soft moans in between the wet kisses you lavished his cock with. Your tongue swirled across the tip, lapping up the precum spilling out, your lips coating the shaft with the mix of it with your drool. Your jaw ached to fit as much of him as you could, your hands attending to stroking the remaining length. 

You could feel him nearing his release, frantic and desperate for you to keep going, and you had never felt more powerful in your life. His body shuddered, and you took as much as you could of him into your mouth a moment before the first spurt hit your throat. Upside down, you struggled to swallow as much of it as you could, releasing his spent cock from your lips afterward. 

Uncrossing your legs, you flipped yourself onto the ground, your eyes darting around for an escape while he was still dazed. One of his large hands grabbed you before you had a chance to run; you froze in place. He pinned you down against the earth, towering over you as you looked up at him, his helpless victim. As his fingers hooked around your pants and began to undo them, you realized he wasn’t about to kill you. He was going to return the favor.

[skadventuretime]

Golden Hour

Here is my piece for the @noragamibigbang! My artist partner @shinkimiope had such a lovely idea and art to match, so naturally I had to get all sentimental on it. I hope you enjoy!

A midi alarm rang out from a phone on the coffee table. It was perched so delicately on the corner, crowded out as it was by large textbooks and notebook viscera, that it was just a few rings from falling off the table altogether.

Hiyori burst from the bathroom with a toothbrush in one hand and her falling towel in the other. Flecks of toothpaste dotted her lips and her hair was only partly brushed, the half that wasn’t dripping water onto her living room floor. She stuck the toothbrush in her mouth to use that hand to catch her phone as it wobbled off the coffee table.

How is it three already? She turned a frantic eye to the microwave clock as if hoping it would give her a better time, but unfortunately, she was still going to be late.

Helping that study group last night was a bad idea.

Groaning, she hurried to a cabinet placed against the wall in her living room. It was more of a covered shelf, really, made of mismatched driftwood that's been carefully sanded and polished with something that made it glimmer like sunlight on the sea. On the sole high shelf was a shrine, just as carefully made, just as lovingly looked after. Not a speck of dust touched any part of it.

[Read the rest on AO3 or below the cut]

Hiyori clapped her hands together and focused on the shrine's god. Yato, I'm going to be late. Feel free to start setting up without me!

A faint breeze stirred her towel, as if a door had been left open and a summer wind had blown in.

I hear you loud and clear, Yato's voice answered distantly. His scent washed over her, wild and ancient and warm, and she could sense he was smiling through their temporary connection. I can carry things if you've brought too much. 

Hiyori exhales around her toothbrush. That’s okay, I’ll be fine. I just lost track of time.

You don’t need to get dressed up on my account.

Yato’s mental voice was teasing, gentle, but it still raised a blush to her face that made her glad he wasn’t there in person. It’s nothing like that, school work just kept me up. See you in twenty?

The wind brushed the back of her neck. See you then.

His presence faded away and so did the breeze. The air around the shrine seemed charged and clean, the space sanctified in the short time of their conversation. It was a testament to how much Yato's power as a god of fortune had grown and how many more people believed in him. She ran her finger over the familiar corner of the shrine one more time before stepping away to finish getting dressed. 

She put her hair up in a towel and returned her toothbrush to her bathroom cup before going to the closet. There, she grabbed a simple blouse and skirt and put them on. She added a pair of earrings gifted from Yukine, a bracelet from Daikoku (because he didn’t trust Kofuku to gift her something that wouldn’t cause misfortune), and a purse from Bishamon that was too practical to have been selected without Kazuma’s input. They all glittered in a vague, dreamlike way that anything loved by the gods does, at least to Hiyori’s half-ayakashi eyes. They were holy, and by extension, so was she.

“Late, late, late,” she muttered, scooping up the bento boxes she’d made the night before and heading out the door.

///

The sun felt great upon her skin for the approximately three seconds she was able to feel it before Yato slammed a floppy, wide brimmed hat over her head. "Yato," Hiyori spluttered, raising the brim of the hat so she could see again. "What are you doing?"

"You'll get sunburnt if you don't wear sun protection," he fretted, gesturing to a large parasol set up to shade a blanket laid out on the ground next to Suzuha's tree. "Come on, I'll unpack everything when we get there."

Hiyori hid a smile as she took the hat off. After all this time, Yato still liked to fuss over her. She set her basket down on the blanket and took a moment to listen to the wind sighing through the trees. She never knew Suzuha personally, but she liked to think she knew him a little by the way Yukine would smile when he talked about him, or through the way Yukine took such good care of plants in his stead. Hiyori turned to bring Yato into her thoughts when she caught him staring at her, causing the bottom to drop out of her stomach. Even now, his eyes could make her wonder if this is what it was like to be worshipped.

He spoke first. "Do you want anything to drink?" He pointed to a cooler beaded with condensation. "There's also tea, for later."

"I'm set for now." At his drooping shoulders, she amended, "Fine, I’ll have some tea."

He perked up immediately. "I have it steeping in Tamagahara, I'll be right back!" He blinked out of sight and back within the span of a breath. "Easier to keep hot there," he explained as he gently laid the tray on the blanket.

Fragrant green tea steamed in the cool air. Yato set out small, round mugs and poured her a cup. It was a delicate porcelain, something that sparkled with that same otherworldliness as her other gifts from gods.

Their fingers brushed as he passed it to her, and her heart stuttered. Yato didn’t seem to notice.

“So what’s new with you, Hiyori?” His eyes shone with excitement and curiosity, but there was something else there, too, an over-brightness like when you stub your toe and don’t want your friends to know how much something so small really hurt you. 

She took a small sip of tea to gather her thoughts. The last time she’d seen Yato in person was a little over a year and a half ago, although she’d spoken to him more frequently than that. When he’d first talked to her through the shrine, Hiyori had nearly punched a hole in the wall out of surprise, but it did allow them to speak every now and then. 

“I already told you about the apartment,” she began, grimacing at the memory of how long it took to convince her family and friends she’d be fine living without a roommate. 

“Yeah, it looks great!”

She froze. “You haven’t been in it yet.”

He looked a little abashed. “Well, you see, when we talk through the shrine, I can sort of, you know.” He waved his hand in a nervous flutter. “See through you, a little. Not actual sight, but more like impressions.” He closed his eyes, and his voice got quieter like he was recalling a special memory. “You get good sunlight there, and the air is clean, and you feel safe, right?”

Hiyori took a larger and no less scalding sip of tea. So that divine presence she felt every time she prayed was really..?

“Right, okay, yes. It’s a lovely apartment, Ame helped me move in and Yukine came to set up the furniture.” She smiled at the memory, at how stubbornly Yukine had insisted he could figure out the instructions on his own and how he tried to hide his excitement when she gave him a cheering chibi sticker for his trouble. 

���And school’s been going well?” 

“As well as it could be. If it isn’t exams I’m studying for, it’s practicals, and I’ve been up late most nights to make time for it all.” 

Yato raised a hand as though he wanted to touch her face and then thought better of it. “You have dark circles under your eyes.”

“Staying top of the class won’t happen by getting enough sleep,” Hiyori replied, mostly in jest.

Yato caught her smile and leaned a little closer, close enough that the smell of him wrapped around her like a familiar jacket. “You know what might help? Praying to me for good grades.” His eyes were sparkling with mischief.

“You haven’t told me you’re trying to put Tenjin out of work,” Hiyori laughed. 

“Oh yes, I’m cornering his market now.” Yato stood up and did something to his tracksuit to make it flourish like a cape. “Soon even Ebisu will be having to contend with my horde of worshippers.” 

An image of Yato in the middle of a swarming crowd of adoring businessmen was enough to make her snort the sip of tea she was sipping right out of her nose, which of course set Yato off, and before she knew it she was wheezing into her empty cup, eyes streaming and hand dripping from the tea that had splashed out. 

“All right, so I’m not the best with school or studies,” Yato said when he finally caught his breath. “I have learned something over the last few years, though.”

“Oh?” 

“How to help stubborn humans relax.”

Hiyori rolled her eyes. “Does it involve a trip to Capypa Land? Because as much fun as it is to watch you whimper over Capypas, I really need to—“

“No Capypa Land this time,” Yato cut in hastily. “Even though it would be a happypa trip for the whole family,” he muttered. “Yukine made ice cream and demanded that I share some with you. I also have a patented relaxation technique that will have you feeling better in no time!”

“Is that so,” Hiyori said, a smile melting over her lips. “Do I get a refund if it’s not to my liking?”

Yato had begun rummaging through a small cooler during this exchange and looked up to say, grinning, “I’ve never had an unsatisfied customer.”

It was all so easy, the banter, the laughter, the aching muscles in her face. No matter how often Hiyori got to see Yato, each visit felt like coming home.

“So what flavor did Yukine make?” she asked, peering over Yato’s shoulder as he opened up a few containers.

“Salted dark chocolate with optional caramel drizzle.” He put two scoops into a bowl and held up the caramel. “Would you like some?”

“Please,” Hiyori said, delighted. “I didn’t know Yukine took up cooking now, too!”

Yato smiled fondly. “One of Bishamon’s shinki offered to teach him after he was skulking around the kitchens one day. Picked up on it pretty fast, too.” He placed a spoon in the bowl and handed it to her, then put a few scoops in a bowl for himself with a judicious ladle of caramel sauce.

“Ready?” he asked Hiyori, holding up a spoonful of ice cream doused in sauce.

“Ready.” Her own spoon was carefully loaded with just a touch of caramel so she could enjoy the ice cream’s original flavor.

Yato touched their spoons together in a toast before taking his bite, and Hiyori paused to watch his reaction. It had been so long since she had gotten to experience anything new with him; part of her ached to witness every moment.

“It’s good?” she asked, watching his lips curve up around the spoon.

“That kid really goes all the way when he learns something new,” Yato said appreciatively. “Who knew tree care would turn into fixing electronics and now cooking.”

“He applies himself well.”

“You helped him get started,” Yato said around another mouthful of ice cream. “He still talks about how great it was when you tutored him.”

Hiyori hummed. “It was great to teach him. He’s a wonderful soul, he just needed a place to focus his mind.”

Yato popped a spoonful of pure caramel into his mouth. “That reminds me, how was that other wonderful soul of yours doing?”

Hiyori stiffened. “We haven’t seen each other in months. He was so...so...distasteful!” 

A dangerous gleam appeared in Yato’s eyes. “How distasteful?”

“Ami just needs to stop setting me up with people she meets at house parties,” Hiyori said. “She means well, but doesn’t have the best taste in men.”

“You’re very lucky I’m here, then, with my patented relaxation technique,” Yato said, putting down his empty bowl and scooting closer. 

“Relaxation technique?” she repeated, eyes narrowed. “Wasn’t the ice cream the relaxation?”

“Just sit back and relax! Tell me more about what happened with the worthless scum.” He knelt behind her and swept her hair off her shoulder. Goosebumps peppered her skin where he brushed it.

“So, you were saying?” he prompted, hands resting on her shoulders. The weight of them was reassuring.

“It was nothing,” she began, breath catching when he began to knead the muscles around her neck. “He brought me to a dive bar and tried to make me do shots with him, and then when it was pouring rain when I finally convinced him to leave, he told me to run with him five blocks so the rideshare would be cheaper.”

Yato’s hands paused. “Any chance I can get his name?”

“Yato, no,” Hiyori chided as he continued her massage. “You’ve been so good about not terrorizing people who’ve been minor inconveniences to me, I’d hate to see you ruin your record.” She was distracted; he was working away knots she hadn’t known she’d had. Maybe she really should look into moving her study sessions earlier so she’d stop falling asleep on her desk...

“It sounds like this one would be worth it,” he muttered, digging into her shoulders a little too roughly. 

“What about you? How has it been, being a god of fortune?” Hiyori asked after a few minutes of letting him drain the tension from her neck and shoulders.

His hands slipped away. “It’s been different,” he said, standing up and offering her a hand. “I think I’ve been so used to being on my own that being part of a group is strange.”

“Have there been problems with your neighbors again?” Hiyori asked. The last she’d heard, there had been a minor incident involving Takemikazuchi and an entire square kilometer of Tamagahara that had been leveled in his anger.

Yato started walking towards the cherry blossom tree. “No, I think that was his way of welcoming me. I thought that once I got what I wanted, everything would feel right.”

“And it doesn’t?” It had been so long since Yato opened up to her like this, showed up on a windowsill late at night and talked about what was on his mind. A warm feeling crept through her chest.

“No,” he said plainly, passing the wide trunk that showed the marks of Yukine’s care over the years. “Something is missing.”

She joined him under the boughs and inhaled. Fresh, clean, something a little like hope.

“I thought having more worshippers would make me happy,” he began, fingers trailing through some low hanging blossoms. “And they do, but it’s not what I thought it’d be.” 

“Oh?” 

“It’s lonelier than I imagined. Busier too; you have no idea how many people want to see me just to talk or vent. I always thought— well.” 

Yato paused by a string of cherry blossoms, running his fingers through the petals as if they were a lover’s hair. “I always thought it’d be like having more people like you around. People who understood me.” He pinched off a strand and held it close to his chest, hesitant, before offering it to her. “But deep down I knew you were one-of-a-kind.”

Hiyori marveled at the soft translucence of the petals in his hand, the faint otherworldly shine they seemed to have in his divine presence. It was like an ayakashi miasma in reverse, a bubble of light and goodness, and she watched it travel up her arm and float her hair up on an invisible wind when she accepted the flowers.

“How long have you had this effect?” Hiyori said, turning her hand from side to side and admiring the richer colors and heady scent.

“Effect?” Yato murmured, eyes on the blossoms in her hand.

“The way everything sort of glows around you.”

He blinked at this and looked at the ground. “It’s sort of complicated.”

This sharpened her interest. “Complicated how? Did you have to perform some ritual? Does it only happen to gods with hafuri? Is it because you’re more popular these days?”

Yato’s face had sunk lower and lower into his scarf as she spoke. He mumbled something into it, still not looking at her.

Since Hiyori was well-versed in his moods, she simply crouched so that she was directly in his field of view. “Come again?”

“It’s because you’re my most devout believer,” he said, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s like the opposite of a miasma. It can only happen when extreme faith persists.” He finally meets her eyes. “It means our ties are strong.”

Hiyori glimpsed an arc of woven sunlight twisting like infinity around them at his words, like something seen from the corner of your eyes.

“It’s my greatest treasure,” he confessed.

The world spun taffy thick. “So even though others believe in you now, I’m somehow..?”

“None of them are even close to this,” he said. “The shrine in your apartment is more home to me than any of the ones built in major cities.”

It was a lot to take in. Hiyori was used to being the backbone in her friendships, used to providing a solid, trustworthy space in which others could gain their footing. But being exalted to a god?

“I still think about what would’ve happened if I’d listened to Tenjin,” Yato continued, brushing a hand through the ties’ afterimage. “I am who I am because you’ve helped me become it. If our ties had been cut…” His hand fell to his side. “I might not be here right now, or I’d be some monster doing Father’s bidding.”

“I wouldn’t have made it out of plenty of situations without you, either,” Hiyori said slowly. “Isn’t that the nature of knowing someone? Being changed by them?”

Yato thought about this for a moment, the wind soft and gentle as it ruffled his hair. “Ever since I was small, Father had always told me that I was always in the right, always the one in control. That I could do whatever I wanted and others would adjust. I think it was supposed to make me feel powerful, but I didn’t want power. I wanted to belong.” Something like surrender was in his eyes when he said, “You were the first person to make me feel like I belonged in a very long time.”

It was too much. All of her pent up feelings — the fear, the hope, the confusion — from her high school days welled up at once, shattered from the amber in which she’d crystallized it once Yato defeated father and brought Yukine home.

“I’m glad,” she finally said when she was sure her voice wouldn’t shake. “Because you do belong, you and Yukine and Kofuku and Daikoku and —“

“With you?” Yato’s voice was so quiet it was like he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

“Of course with me,” Hiyori said, feeling brave. “The same way I belong with you. That’s how this works. We’re already tied, right? Let’s just be tied. For however long that lasts.”

“For however long that lasts,” Yato murmured. It sounded like a vow.

The afternoon sun had taken on that tired golden edge that meant it was closer to sunset than noon. Hiyori’s heart was still beating a little too fast, her mind dizzy with implications that felt too raw to look at now.

“Thank you for coming today,” Yato said at last. “I missed you.”

“Now that I know I have the most important shrine in my apartment, I’m sure we can figure out ways to talk more,” Hiyori said, and was rewarded with another blush.

“May I take you home? There are a lot of leftovers to carry and Kofuku threatened to murder me if I came back with any.”

Hiyori laughed and started back towards their blanket. “Of course.”

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 2 Word Count: 3.5k

Read Part 1; Read Part 3

Autumn

A few days passed and the temperature had started dropping to one appropriate to fall. Each morning, Bucky had gotten up to exercise. And each morning, he opened his curtains to see that the house across from him remained unchanged. Lights that never turned off. No noise whatsoever. If it weren’t for your car in the driveway, he would’ve thought that no one lived there.

On his runs, he was able to see various things that needed fixing, like a fallen tree that was slightly in the way of a path or a pothole in the driveway he could patch. This morning though, instead of his run, he decided he was going to look around the back of the house, which was fenced off into a yard. From the gate, Bucky could see an old in-ground fire pit in the middle of the yard, closer to the screened in patio of the house than the far end of the yard, where the grass was overgrown- he would have to get on that.

The sound of a vehicle crunching on the gravel driveway caught Bucky’s attention. He walked from the side gate to the front porch where a man in a postal worker’s uniform was straining to get a large box out of the truck. Jogging over, he helped the older man set it down on the ground.

“Phew, thank you kindly sir,” the older man huffed as he took his hat off and wiped the sweat off of his forehead.

After taking a few moments to catch his breath, he walked around the side of the mail truck to grab a tablet from the front seat.

“Can you sign for this package?” He asked as he handed the tablet over to Bucky.

“Uh, sure.”

As he was signing, you came out the front door with a bottle of water in your hand. Bounding down the steps, you handed the cold water to the postal worker.

“Sorry, I would’ve been out earlier but I saw that you were working so hard, so I went back to grab a water for you.”

Bucky handed the tablet back as the older man thanked you.

“I appreciate it, ma’am. Do ya'll need help getting this inside?”

You looked at Bucky who shook his head.

“I think we’ve got it from here.” He said.

“Okay folks. Have a nice day.”

The postal worker turned around and got back in his truck. As the car started to roll forward, he lowered the window and waved while saying,

“It’s nice to see a kind young couple move into this area!”

With the truck halfway down the driveway, there was no chance to correct him. You looked at Bucky, mouth slightly ajar before shrugging it off with a small laugh. He chuckled as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“He seems like a sweet guy.” You said as you watched the truck disappear behind the trees.

“Yeah.”

You stood there for a moment in silence before you spoke.

“So…”

“I’ll help you bring this in.”

“Okay, great, because there was no chance I was going to get this in by myself.”

You watched as Bucky lifted the large box with ease. As he went up the porch steps, you quickly passed him to hold the door open for him.

“I’m pretty sure that’s my bed frame, so you can set it in the room at the end of the hall.”

He turned to head down the hall, being careful to not bump into any walls. Entering the open room, he saw a room with plain white walls and a light sand-colored hardwood floor. Delicate sage green curtains moved ever so slightly as the breeze brought fresh air into the room. There was a mirrored closet with clothes that was cracked open, a small white table close to the ground, some boxes stacked in the corner of the room, and in the middle of the floor was a mattress covered in sheets, blankets, pillows and a laptop paired to some over ear headphones. He set the box down leaning against the wall.

“Ah, sorry about the mess, I haven’t had a chance to really get anything set up.” You say as you pass him to open the curtains wider.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry you had to sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I still had the mattress so it wasn’t bad.”

Another pause. Bucky cleared his throat.

“Do you want help putting it together?” He asked, gesturing towards the box.

You sighed in response.

“Yeah, actually, I could. I’m sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble.” He replied, seeing you smile tiredly from the corner of his eye.

You grabbed a pair of scissors sitting on the vanity and started opening the box. Once it was open, Bucky pulled out a large fabric cream colored headboard. You tried not to be too impressed at the fact that he pulled it out with one arm, flexing the muscles in ripples. It felt wrong to ogle so you shook your face slightly and dug into the box.

The material of the headboard was similar to canvas, reminiscent of the old cloth bags that flour used to come in when he was a child. As he set it down against the wall, he ran his right hand over the cloth one more time before letting his hand fall off.

The sound of you pulling out the metal parts to the actual bed frame snaps him out of his lull. Setting them down gently on the floor one by one, you attempt to make conversation.

“So, how’s the apartment? Is it okay? Do you need anything?” You asked, trying to hide how slightly out of breath that you were. Bucky walked over to grab the rest of the metal bars out of the box before you could try.

“Yeah, everything’s great. Thanks…”

There’s a lull as you fish the bag of screws and the instructions from the bottom of the box.

“Great. I couldn’t get down here soon enough to check everything myself. The real estate agent took pictures but it’s definitely not the same as laying your eyes on it in person.”

You open up the instructions and Bucky stands awkwardly before deciding to sit on the floor across from you. He leaned back onto his hands and enjoyed the fresh air circulating in the room. The slight chill was nothing compared to all the cold he had faced in his lifetime. That meant he could get by in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans. You, however, were bundled up slightly more. Bucky’s eyes trailed over you slowly as you focused on the instructions. Your hair was tucked back behind your ears in an attempt to keep it out of your eyes as you read, forest green shirt was layered with a cozy open cardigan. The black slim-cut joggers had fuzzy mid-calf socks layered over them to keep any warmth from escaping. Bucky wondered how much more you could possibly layer when the Winter comes and the true cold settles in the area. Before he could think about that, you flip back to the front page of instructions and tentatively spoke.

“Okay, so I think I get it…”

---

The next hour or so consisted of you telling him what parts went together and him screwing them together. It settled into a good flow, with scattered conversation sprinkled in between.

“So, how’re you enjoying Louisiana?” you asked casually as you skimmed over the next set of instructions.

“I haven’t been here long. It’s… different than New York,” he said as he twisted the screw in. At his prompting, you handed him another one. “Everyone’s friendly. It seems like a tight-knit community.”

“They definitely are,” you mused. “Brooklyn, right?”

He looked up at you, causing you to blink and then avert your gaze.

“Sorry,” you started to explain. “I saw the Smithsonian gallery during my last visit to New York… Do you ever have people recognize you?”

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, pausing for a moment before continuing on. “When I do get recognized, it’s not usually the kind of people I’d want to recognize me.”

Bucky thought back to shortly ago in Madripoor. Definitely not the kind of people that he wanted to recognize him. He shook the thought out of his head and continued.

“It’s strange to think that all those people who pass by the exhibit just know me now.”

You reflected on when you saw the exhibit. Right in the middle was a cutout of Bucky Barnes: Captain America’s Right Hand Man. The few paragraphs that were featured at the exhibit did not seem to fully encapsulate the man sitting in front of you, carefully screwing the metal pieces together.

“I think they know about you, but they don’t know you. There has to be more to James Buchanan Barnes than three paragraphs written by someone who’s never actually met you.” You say, meeting his eyes and raising your eyebrows comically.

For some reason, hearing his full name unnerved him. It made him antsy. He didn’t have any experience with being the center of any positive attention, and all of a sudden, your focus on him was scorching. He looked away and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I suppose so.” He said gruffly.

You smiled gently before looking back down at the instructions to try to put him back at ease. It was funny, watching someone with such a hardened exterior be flustered so easily. There was definitely more to Bucky Barnes than meets the eye.

---

Bucky sat by himself, screwing the last piece in. You had left a few minutes ago to grab refreshments and hadn’t come back yet. He stood, dusting off his hands and pants before stretching his back and looking at the completed project. Picking up the mattress and all the blankets piled on it, he gently set it on the frame. Now it looked like you actually lived here. It was simple, but cozy.

The smell of butter and cheese wafted into the room, grabbing his attention. Looking up at the clock, Bucky realized it was almost noon. He followed the familiar smell to the kitchen where you were cooking, hair tied back and light-yellow apron. The delayed drinks were gathering condensation on the counter behind you. You looked over at him and slipped the apron over your head.

“Ah, sorry. I figured you could handle the last few screws so I started making lunch as well.” You said sheepishly.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you. It’s all done.”

He watched as you took the spatula and lifted a sandwich onto a plate, golden brown from toasting in the butter, matching the plate next to it. You had made the both of you lunch. Taking a knife, you cut the sandwiches in half and hand him the plate with the warm one that had just come out of the pan.

“It’s a grilled ham and cheese. I hope it’s okay.”

“You didn’t have to.” He responded, watching the melted cheese drip down the sides.

You shrugged. “I wanted to. Thanks for the help.”

“Thanks for the food. Do you need help assembling anything else?”

Your gaze flicked to the boxes leaning against the hallway. He looked behind at them and back, raising an eyebrow. Sighing in defeat, you spoke.

“… Yeah. But Sam is actually coming over later to help so you don’t have to do it now. If you do still want to help, you could come over then. I’ll be ordering dinner so you don’t have to worry about cooking. Though, please don’t feel like you have to. You’ve already done so much today.”

Bucky hesitated. He didn’t want to invade your life too much. After all, you were a woman living alone in a new area, the last thing you probably wanted was a strange man turning a contract into a forced friendship because you were polite. But then again, you had just moved down here. Of course, you needed a lot of help in the beginning. Soon, things will settle back to normal and then you’ll be back to just being neighbors who see each other outside occasionally.

“Sure. I’ll be back later when I hear Sam pull up. He doesn’t follow directions anyway so you probably need someone to supervise him.” He joked.

You smiled up at him.

“Great. You must be tired. You can take lunch to go and bring the plate back later.”

You didn’t want to keep him. He wouldn’t have minded staying. But he was still new to being an actual person again. His social battery was a little drained, and he appreciated the easy out.

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” He said, giving his classic low-key three finger salute.

“Bye,” you replied softly as you watched him open the screen door and walk down the porch steps. Lightly padding down the hallway, you peaked into your room, seeing the final product. It was sweet that he put the mattress down and you noticed he had also straightened out the blankets just a little. What a sweet gesture. He was a gentleman. Despite the gruff. You padded back down to the kitchen and sat at the counter to eat. It always felt wrong to make so much noise. You were just one person. One tiny insignificant useless person.

---

Bucky sat at his kitchen table, finishing the sandwich that he had started to eat on the way in. His attempt to eat it while it was still hot was so worth it, the bread still warm and comforting. As he took his last bite, he traced his finger on the little pattern of flowers and leaves on the border of the sage green ceramic plate. All of the little homey, slightly old-fashioned details were very reminiscent of home. Not his previous apartment in Brooklyn. But home back in the 1930’s when he was growing up. It was comforting. He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, dreaming of a world that no longer existed.

---

Later, Sam knocked on the door way and shouted up the stairs through the screen door.

“Hey, anybody home?”

You bounded down the stairs and unlocked the screen door to let him in, giving him a hug in greeting.

“Woah, woah, don’t make me spill the goods,” he said with a laugh, holding the two cases of beer up.

“Good to see you too,” You joked.

Bucky saw the interaction from the garage window that faced your porch. He wondered if there was something between you two and quickly shook the thought from his head. He wasn’t jealous, just curious. It didn’t matter. After all, you were Sam’s friend first.

People can have friends, idiot. What does it matter to you? He thought to himself as he walked down the stairs to the garage.

Walking across the gravel to your front door, he knocked on the screen door as well.

“Come in!” You yelled from upstairs.

He opened the front door and walked up the stairs into the living room.

“Hey, Buck! How’re you settling in?” Sam said, giving him a hug as well.

“Good, it’s really nice out here.” He replied after they had separated.

“Good. I’m glad. You look like you finally got some rest.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, he was over early this morning, hauling around a bunch of heavy stuff and putting furniture together.” You interjected, bringing the bottle opener in from the kitchen.

“Let me guess, he completely messed it up? Turned your table into a chair or something like that?” Sam teased. Bucky slapped him upside his arm.

“Despite the picture you painted of him, he was extremely competent.” You said while trying not to laugh at Sam’s face of fake hurt. “Now come on, there’s a beer fee, you get one beer for every piece of furniture you put together.”

“I’m the one who brought the drinks though!” Sam protested, following you down the hall to the room where the boxes were.

Bucky smiled a bit as he listened to you both squabble. Friends or not, it was nice to have someone else to annoy Sam with.

---

“You sure you’re okay to go pick up the food?”

You looked up at Bucky from where you sitting on the floor, reading directions while Sam, who was ever so slightly tipsy, was trying to get a leg of a night stand to fit straight.

“Yeah, I’m good. He looks… busy. And it’s probably better for me to go out this late. You know, ‘cuz you’re a woman... lady.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Not to say that you’re not perfectly capable of handling yourself, I just mean… uh…”

“Pff-”

The laugh that Sam had been trying to hold back escaped from between his lips loudly as he covered his mouth. You rolled your eyes but regardless, a smile crept up on your face.

“Ignore him. I was just giving you a hard time. It’s very chivalrous.”

You paused thoughtfully.

“On a serious note, that’s very sweet of you. I appreciate it. You can just charge it to the card I gave you.”

He nodded and started walking down the stairs to the porch.

“Be safe!” He heard you call softly down the stairs.

“Will do.” Bucky instinctively responded.

The screen door shut behind him as he made his way across the driveway to where his own motorcycle was parked. A sleek modern black sports bike. Something he’d bought when he wasn’t ready to look at Steve’s old cruiser. He’d put the cruiser in the garage to work on and keep safe.

He mounted the bike and started it, the engine coming to life. He went to check what time it was on his phone when he realized he had left it inside. Swinging his leg over, he started to walk back up to the front door when he heard your conversation with Sam from the open living room window.

“Feeling at home?” Sam asked. There was a short silence before you answered hesitantly.

“Something like that.”

“How you holding up?”

“It’s been okay… lonely… I just can’t believe I let it go on for so long.”

Bucky hadn’t realized he had stopped in his tracks, eyebrows furrowed as he listened.

“The people who are trapped in the abusive relationship themselves always have a harder time seeing it than anyone else.”

Bucky blinked in surprise as Sam continued.

“It’s like that thing they say when you’re cooking with frogs. If the water’s boiling when you first put them in, they’ll hop right out the pot. But if you put the frog in cool water and slowly heat it up, they’ll stay, no matter how hot it gets. The more gradual the process is, the less likely they are to realize that they’re in trouble before it’s too late.”

“Yeah…” Your voice sounded heavy. Burdened.

“He was nice at first, wasn’t he?” You asked rhetorically.

“He was.”

“Fooled me…”

“Fooled me too. I never would’ve introduced him to you if I had known that’s what he was like. I should’ve known there was something off about him. I should’ve sensed it during the support group he came to at the VA.” Sam said regretfully.

“Hey, it’s not your fault, Sam.” You said, chastising him. “At some point, I knew that things were heading in the wrong direction. He got so angry. So spiteful. I knew I had stopped loving him and started being afraid of him. But then everyone was dusted, and I didn’t have anywhere else to be, anyone else to be with besides him. Being somewhere new by myself would bring struggles I couldn’t prepare for. At least with him, I knew what to be afraid of. Then everyone came back and he almost killed me. I guess I was just a poor little froggy.”

You tried to ease the heaviness of the conversation by being lighthearted with the last sentence. But there was still a sadness in your voice.

“Still. I wish I could’ve helped you when you broke your shoulder.”

“Don’t feel bad, Sammy. I ended up just fine. I’m here now. The only thing I regret is letting him trash my piano. It was old, but I grew up playing that thing.”

“I know how much it meant to you.”

“It’s okay, it's a new start. Besides, you were off fighting to be Captain America! Rightfully so. If this was the sacrifice I had to make for the right man to be able to take up the shield, I would’ve broken my other shoulder too!”

Sam must have given you a death glare because you laughed suddenly and your tone changed to defensive.

“Kidding! Kidding. Yeesh. But seriously, I’m proud of you. And thank you, for helping me start over.”

Bucky unclenched his hands. He hadn’t realized that he had gotten tense. Turning around, he headed back to the bike. He didn’t need his phone. He didn't want to let on that he overheard. Getting back on the bike, he waited until he heard laughter to sneak down the driveway, masking the fact that he was just now leaving.

Once he got out on the road, he sped up- letting the wind sting against his face and cool it down. The thought of a man using his own strength to hurt what was supposed to be his other half- it made him so mad. No wonder you were scrambling to get out here. He hoped that you never had to go through anything like that again.

Rest assured, if he can do anything to prevent that from happening, he will.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

We meet Lucy, we meet Samantha and her twins & Mother Nature gets a little bit mad. But on the upside - she loves Tony :)

Kind reminder that this story will have horror/thriller elements & graphic descriptions of blood, gore and all the nasty stuff associated with superhero battles described in some detail. This chapter contains some of that.

Honestly, this story is getting- uhh- 8-12 notes on Tumblr. It's got a decent following on AO3 which brings me joy because I truly do enjoy the worldbuilding to a, perhaps, guilty amount. So if you like it too - please reblog :)

The fabric of my skirt was suddenly yanked and I jumped, dropping my phone and startling out of my daze. Two big, blue eyes stared up at me, curiousity mixed with impatience in them. I crouched down to pick up my device, coming face to face with a tiny blonde girl about nine or ten years of age.

"Lucy, hi!" I squeezed out a smile at the child. She looked pale, as if she'd never seen the slightest bit of sunlight, chubby cheeks contrasted by an overall spindliness of her body. Her dress was a puffy, long-sleeved, red and white polka dotted monstrosity with at least two petticoats that made her seem bigger than she actually was. "Sorry, didn't see you there. Long day at work," despite there being a worm of anxiety crawling deeply in my chest, I heeded the warnings on the list of rules and swallowed any unease I had.

Which was a hard feat. The stairs had gotten confused and I lost ten minutes of time going back, over and over, after encountering floors "5", "8" and "19" instead of my third floor, in a five story building. The building providing extra floors shouldn't have surprised me that much but the worst was fighting with the desire to explore them, my rational brain unhelpfully supplying that if this building was truly dangerous, nobody would be living in it.

The pull was almost unnatural in its strength yet my protection charms remained unaffected. Too tired from returning to work, I decided to distract myself with my phone - and nearly ran poor little Lucy off her feet.

"You are new," she signed to me slowly, carefully observing my reaction to her using ASL.

I had been truly unsettled by the rule list, perhaps more than I wanted to admit to myself, so I spent a night wide awake brushing up my meager sign language skills. "Yes, my name is Star," I replied, not quite sure if I wanted to shake her hand or simply make myself scarce as soon as possible.

Lucy gave me a closed-lipped grin, swooshing her puffy skirts in what I perceived to be a calculated amount of shyness. "Can I play with you, please?" Her hands moved a little more rapidly as she side-eyed my apartment door.

I briefly ran a mental checklist of the contents of my fridge. "Sure," I figured that two leftover steaks in it would be more than enough for the little girl. I'd splurged and gotten four prime pieces of meat to treat myself after a hectic moving process, cooking only half of them on the first day. "Come on it. You hungry?"

The door swung open as I led Lucy in, her bright dress and pale skin standing out in the twilight of my apartment. She nodded her head seriously, looking at me from head to toe as shivers ran up and down my spine. My bag was unceremoniously dumped on the couch, my socked feet shuffling into the kitchen and beelining for the fridge.

Lucy followed me quietly, taking a seat at the dinner table and folding her thin arms atop it, expectant blue eyes following my every move. As I plated the meat and reached for the roll of paper towels, I felt like I was being examined under a microscope. Somewhere in the distance, a quiet hissing noise was beginning to rise.

Lucy politely declined the fork and knife I attempted to give her so I just set down the plate in front of her, leaving the kitchen to change out of my dusty, sweaty clothes, too tired to really worry about the loud, sloppy and wet chewing noises and low growling coming from the dining area. I decided as long as she wasn't attempting to have me for dinner, I was going to be just fine.

I found Lucy on the carpet of my living room, flipping through a fashion magazine she'd found somewhere after I was done with scavenging some sweatpants from my mostly-unpacked closet. Her blonde curls bounced as she looked up at me with another tight smile, this time looking calmer, friendlier somehow. "I like those dresses," she signed, pointing at a few pictures with models wearing ballroom gowns in all kinds of colours. "And these..." She pointed out a tiara, probably not knowing how to sign the words.

"This is a tiara," I spoke slowly, signing the last word with my hands carefully as she observed. And then a few more times, until she repeated her last sentence perfectly. "Good job, Lucy," I praised her as she beamed at me. The river of quiet, scratchy giggles never stopped as she pointed out various things and I tried to sign them to the best of my ability, Lucy not showing any signs of upset whatsoever if I couldn't get the name for something right.

After some time, it was beginning to get very dark outside and a couple of pointed glances at the clock was all it took for her to stand up and carefully dust off her skirts. "Thank you for playing with me, Star," Lucy signed excitedly. "I like you. Do you want to know a secret?" She leaned in conspirationally, bursting into my space bubble with a lack of care only a child could posess.

I nodded, not trusting my mouth whatsoever. The closer she leaned in, the more overwhelming her smell became. Her pretty dress reeked of mildew and stale water, her breath - of dried blood and something earthen, like moist soil and cold cobblestone.

Lucy's eyes widened dramatically. "If you need answers, go on to the seventh floor. Bring some warm milk and cookies, they won't bother you too much, but be careful and don't stay for too long. You look tasty," I struggled to keep up with her rapid signing, my eyes firmly trained on her. Lucy's hand carefully patted my cheek and in my frozen state, I could only wave back as she skipped to the door and unlocked it, giving me one of her closed-lipped smiles before disappearing behind it without a noise.

The lock slid shut on it's own after the girl's departure. My heart briefly jumped up into my throat, trapping my jerky inhale in-between my throat and my esophagus. Coughing, I went on to double check the door lock before scrambling for the TV remote to add some background noise to the suddenly eerily quiet apartment.

The sit-com that popped up wasn't any of the ones I knew so I sat helplessly watching unfamiliar people get themselves into more and more absurd situations as the grating noise of pre-recorded audience laughter mocked the characters actions. A sudden shriek pierced the late night stillness, followed by a sound of breaking dishes and a woman's voice tiredly chastising the miscreants.

Samantha.

I'd seen her a few times as she smoked her strong cigarettes in front of the entrance, her twins running in circles around the large pothole in the middle of the driveway. She'd been friendly enough, the dark circles under her eyes and the unkempt state of her clothes telling me more than her words, "I love them, I really do. But I just want some sleep," she rasped as she sighed and attempted to gather her two kids.

I didn't examine them too closely but on first moment's notice their eyes and teeth appeared... Wrong. Samantha had taken them inside after that, clutching a coffee thermos of a size truly impressive, and I went on my merry way, trying not to think too much of the poor, single mother and her two mutant kids. I felt a little proud, even, as she didn't just abandon them like many other people did after discovering their children had an active X-gene.

It didn't take me long to cave in and offer my help with watching the twins, Anya and Arman; one noisy weekend bled into the next and I began to genuinely feel bad for the overtired woman. Inviting the two terrors into my apartment was a choice I had made mindfully: having asked Odette about advice on hyperactive children, she had proposed a puzzle or two.

The thrifted, wooden items weren't able to hold the twins' attention for long, and Anya was the first one to begin gnawing at the hard blocks, covering the area around her in splinters. Arman was a quiet boy compared to his sister: he'd stare at the TV or at the walls, avoiding eye contact and conversation at great lengths.

My couch was jumped on, my dishes were taken out and my houseplants rearranged chaotically; it was almost as if they purposefully tried to get a rise out of me without doing any actual damage. I spent the remaining few hours of my Sunday putting things back in their places - all that pent up frustration had done wonders for the state of my apartment; it sparkled, looking cleaner than the day I moved in.

The babysitting became a somewhat regular occurrence, more often than not with me popping in for a couple of hours so Samantha could run some errands and the odd weekend when the twins came over to me so Sam could get some much-needed sleep.

She was a kind, gentle if chronically overworked woman. We clicked pretty quickly over our shared desire for comfortable stability and some fucking peace; neither I nor she had it in sights for the foreseeable future. Sam's reaction to me being a witch was a shrug and a top up to her wine glass as she pointedly looked at her daughter who was busy chewing on a door handle, leaving small, jagged marks all over the dull metal.

I just had gotten sorted with a bunch of complicated orders when the radio interrupted Eric Clapton with an emergency message and instructions to steer clear of the next few blocks over. Something had hit NYC again and Avengers had been called but nobody knew exactly what it was or when it was going to be dealt with.

As soon as I shot a text to Sam, explaining the situation, I immediately retreated to the back rooms, setting up my healing station over the noise of Odette preparing her office for visitors. For some time, I waited with baited breath, jumping at every little noise coming from the outside. The people tickled in slowly, mostly one by one and all were covered in foul-smelling sludge that evaporated with a loud hiss when the concentrated light of the UV lamp in my office touched it.

"Some kind of aliens, I think," a man with a face somewhere between a human and a hedgehog told me, wincing as he retracted his spikes back into his skin. "There's a hole- a portal, right on a crossroads and there's these things coming out. They kinda look like dragons, or flying snakes maybe," the more light breached the surface of his skin, the more relaxed he became. "The Sorcerer and the Witch are trying to close the portal, unsuccessfully might I add, and the muscle is just," he paused, scratching his chin. "Just killin' 'em, I guess."

I nodded enthusiastically, prompting him to continue to rely the state of the affairs as I applied the thick, viscous ointment on a gash on his leg. "It's hammer and Frisbee time," I mumbled to myself sarcastically.

"Yep," the man popped the 'p'. "Most of us are trying to keep the creatures contained to that one block. I saw Iron Man blasting off some of the creatures off of some of my friends," the last sentence contained a great deal of puzzlement. "Though you won't be seeing much of us this time. These things... They're vicious. They've got claws the size of my foot. A lot of us are going to die where they gut us," the sentence was spoken so matter-of-factly, my hands paused on the man's leg, bringing my eyes to his unblinking dots of black.

"What do you mean?" I swallowed in an attempt to chase away the dry, rough feeling in my throat.

"Those beasts... They're smart. One of my friends - she's a... Telepath of sorts... Says they're an intelligent hivemind," the man's broad, warm palm closed over mine. "The beasts leave only the ones that won't get help in time. They can smell death from a mile away. That's how they hunt," his voice was gentle, soothing over the sudden ringing of my ears.

"I..." My mind stuttered, a sticky ball of anxiety, fear and sorrow gathering up in my chest. "I'm so sorry. I..."

"We know what we're doing, out there, we know the risks," his smile was tight and full of grief. "You're doing your part here, makin' sure our babies have parents. We're out there makin' sure our streets are safe. Such is life," the grin acceptance in his pitch-black, small eyes set fire to the tension in my chest.

I exploded, inside out. The sudden burst of decisive, clear-headed energy made the objects around me vibrate, metal resonated my sorrow and my determination, the wood heated up with the force of Mother Nature itself responding to an act of cruelty bestowed upon her creations.

As soon as the man's bandage was finished and he headed out, I grabbed my old, ratty backpack, hastily shoving things into it in a semi-organized fashion. Clean linen strips, bandages, some premade elixirs and draughts, a few jars of salves, carefully tucked in-between the cloth. As I knocked on the door of Odette's office to retrieve the last few items I would need for my reckless journey, the door handle turned on its own, letting me observe her tending a woman who's skin was peeled off most of her back.

"Can't you see I'm..." Odette exclaimed, throwing her free hand towards the door, which did not budge. She turned on her heel, eyes widening when she observed my wide, solid stance in the doorway, lips immediately curling into a small grin. "I understand. Take what you need. It's not wise to resist Her call," the words were spoken carefully, as if not to spook me, before Odette resumed her delicate work of putting the injured woman back together.

Without a word, I finished packing and left through the front door, not needing more than my scarf and my light sweater to keep me from the freezing gusts of wind. My very core was the centrefold of an active volcano, bursting with white-hot bursts of energy as I approached the injured people on my way towards the terrible screeching noise.

This far out, most of the injured were able to make it to Odette's or to the other healer, who's name I had found out only then, but they were thankful for the water I offered them. Not once did they question me: my star-patterned scarf, out of all things, had become somewhat of a symbol for me among the different folk. Mutants approached me fearlessly, giving generous updates on the direction of the battle and the hotspots I probably should have avoided.

The louder the screeching noises grew, the more people needed my help. The stops took longer, my painkillers were becoming a short supply, the main relief provided by a couple of mid-range, mid-strength energy manipulating mutants that began to tail me after I offered to patch them up in exchange for help with the injured.

It was as if I instinctually knew where I was most needed, my decisions were seldom my own. Me and the two mutants bid a haste goodbye after loading up their truck with the injured, although deep inside, I knew that the amount of corpses, bloody and messy, littering the streets had begun to get to them. In a normal state of mind, I would not have been able to look at them either: then, each mangled, broken body only added fuel to the fire within me.

As I stepped foot in an intersection where someone had piled up bent and broken cars, the shadow flying over my head shrieked, taking a fluid nose dive towards another, smaller flying figure. I dropped flat on the ground, the contents of my backpack clattering, watching the small figure in the sky blast the beast with an off-blue ray of concentrated energy. As soon as the creature began it's graceless drop, Tony turned around and flew off, looking none worse for wear.

At the very centre of my chest, a faint feeling of fondness and hope blossomed into tiny little flowers that soothed the aching sorrow for the dead. Each warcry of the beasts from another world fed the anger, the anguish Gaia seemed to exhibit at their intrusion; the revolt I felt upon laying my eyes on one of them made me sweat, hands clenching into fists until my skin crawled under my nails.

The last part of me that wanted to pretend I was in control was gone; my soft, untrained body a mere vessel for a force stronger than me, stronger than anything. Noise around me grew in pitch, some of the creatures circling around my hiding spot cluelessly, aimlessly, as if they could not find what they were looking for.

I moved spots in a daring series of runs, bringing me almost to the portal itself, and the hellish lizards dived into my previous sanctuary, shattering the concrete and the wood of the house under the amused black stares of glassless windows.

The realization set it - they could not see me. Or perceive me properly, I deduced, inspecting the creatures for any sort of orifice except for their mouths and finding them to lack eyes and ears.

My own stare fell onto Sorcerer Supreme, floating amongst a variety of moving golden circles; I was close enough to hear him talking in a language I did not know. Wanda was hovering nearby, holding up a wall of red energy, protecting the chanting sorcerer.

A united screech invoked a shiver from every living being within it's reach, the creatures circling the portal for the last time before flying off in haphazard directions as the portal slowly began to close. I was prepared to cheer, yet, something stopped me; not a second later, the circles surrounding Stephen dimmed as the man himself jumped up onto his feet in alarm, screaming something unintelligible at the Scarlet Witch.

The overturned food cart I was hiding behind slowly began to creep towards the portal. A couple of rats, a pigeon - the animals flew in front of my eyes, rapidly, as they struggled against the unseen force. My hands grasped the handlebars of the cart in vain, I struggled against the force, seeing a moment of confusion on Wanda's face as I floated- no, rocketed past her as Stephen's golden magic forcefully pushed her out of the portal's reach.

It's size no bigger than a doorway, the vile thing blew cold, dry air under my sweater, muffling Stephen's cursing as we briefly collided during our violent expulsion into another world.

And then, there was darkness.

Taglist! @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[foreficfandom]

Mystic Messenger - Interior Decorating Preferences (Living With MC)

— Zen —

Being a famous stage actor unfortunately doesn’t lead to heaps of cash, so even after establishing his career, Zen stayed in his garden unit for several years. You and him made the best of the place for as long as you could - brightening up the dankness with cheery lighting, making sure everything was clean - but eventually the tiny, cheap apartment wore out its welcome and the two of you decided that enough moldy air was enough. 

Your new place was larger, newer, and located in a better neighborhood. Rent was more than twice the amount, which sometimes puts a strain on the books, and Zen also had to rent a separate parking space for his bike. But it was just a cheerier place. Both you and Zen began feeling the effects of a better ventilated, better lit home, and it energizes the both of you. The extra money was worth it. 

While moving, Zen decided to dump most of his old furniture, keeping only the flatscreen and a table or a lamp. The new apartment was decorated with new couches and cushions, cabinets, mirrors, curtains and rugs. Zen had a surprisingly nuanced taste for interior decorating, and sought out decor with modern, smooth metal and muted grey colors.

Before, Zen lived with a mishap match of cheap furniture that clashed with each other and gathered dust as the years went by. Now, with a new place, you and Zen took the opportunity to really turn the apartment into a home. 

He loved keeping the house brightly lit. Curtains were almost always drawn to let in the natural sun, and there were multiple lamps in every room to brighten up every corner. Sometimes, if a production was generous enough, Zen was allowed to take home one of the props as a gift. So the apartment was eventually decorated with several unique pieces, all mementos from his work. 

He loves seeing the splashes of color dotting his brightly lit home, especially if you’re there to enjoy it with him.

— Yoosung —

It takes a while to move out of the dorms. He finishes his degree two years into you dating him, but before that point he had very little space to live in. His dorm didn’t have a kitchenette nor a shower, though luckily he didn’t have to deal with a roommate. 

Any decorations he had were haphazard and cheap - a character mug for his pencil holder, a bedding set from Target, and other things typical for a full-time college student. His furniture belonged to the dorm, and there was quite a bit of clutter scattered around. Whenever you came over to visit, you would trip over things like random plastic figurines from vending machines. 

After graduating, he moves back with his parents like many young people in Asia. But he really wanted a place of his own as soon as possible, mostly due to your influence. He didn’t want to awkwardly balance his family life with your availability. So after saving up from his internships, he found his first legit apartment to rent.

It was small, old, and the best he could find on such a small income. But it wasn’t bad, per se. Just needed some sprucing up. So that’s what he decided to do; actual decor, now, instead of cheap junk. Furniture from IKEA, legit bedding and curtains. It was important that you saw him as a budding adult, instead of some college kid.

He always loved bright colors and cheery imagery. Some of it kinda clashed, if you were totally honest. But he loved how it gave his home a slightly artsy twist. 

And he still enjoyed his character merch, just not as vigorously as he did before. His desk was no longer covered in old acrylic keychains and plastic charms, but the tissue box on the dresser was decorated with characters from one of his favorite animes. 

Above all, he loved how his space wasn’t an embarrassment to show you, anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact. Every corner held evidence of how much he’s grown. And you were there to share it with him. 

— Jaehee —

Before you came into the picture, her apartment was kinda threadbare. She spent so little of her time there, she couldn’t really decorate the space to her liking. Although her work at C&R earned her an impressive paycheck, you couldn’t see any real evidence of it amongst her home. 

Except for her technology, which she was happy to splurge on. A large plasma TV, the latest Kureig model, a snazzy smartspeaker. Plus, her furniture was brand-name. If it wasn’t for Jaehee herself living there, you could almost believe this apartment was some sort of photoshoot studio - perfectly decorated and sterile. 

After leaving C&R and starting a cafe with you, she finally had time to really invest in her home. And she took it by storm, not just buying tasteful wall art and coordinated throw rugs, but also contracting people to install new granite to the kitchen countertop and re-modeling the entire bathroom. 

She and you had a real eye when it came to decor. It took an entire day set aside to tour furniture stores when it came time to buy new floor lamps, or accent tables. You compared prices on your phone, she agonized over color swatches and metal finishes. 

And she switches up things pretty rapidly. She’ll buy these chic polished metal salt-and-pepper shakers for the kitchen, and two months later she’ll decide they’re too plain so she’ll bring home a dyed blue glass set, only to eventually think they’re too tacky.

All the colors are warm, sometimes dim and cozy, sometimes brightly lit. Antique gold and brass in the kitchen, warm pearls in the bathrooms, buttercup yellow decorating the bedsheets.

No longer was her apartment an oppressive, lonely place that money couldn’t fix. She had a home now; under her feet, and also within you. 

— Jumin —

Now, the images of Mystic Messenger don’t give us the full tour of Jumin’s skyline penthouse studio, but if they did we’d all be shook. ‘Cause his place is no fucking joke, its literally one of the top ten most expensive homes of South Korea.

 It’s located atop an 85-floor skyscraper, and takes up the entire floor with a 20,000 square feet span. It boasts four bathrooms, two kitchens, three separate lounge areas, and crazy expensive architecture. That vertical fish tank next to his Wyoming-size king bed is only the beginning of the luxury that surrounds this man’s abode. 

Even after months of living with him, Jumin surprises you by pointing out some decadent part of the apartment you had missed. Like the jacuzzi settings on one of the bathtubs, or how the massive span of windows can be tinted using a remote. He had lived the life of a millionaire for so long, he got used to these sorts of things. 

You, on the other hand, are constantly charmed and even overwhelmed by the decadence. Half the wine in his personal cellar cost more than your college tuition. You couldn’t help but just, lap up this ridiculous palace, at times. It was really something to wake up to carved marble tiles, crystal lamps, and designer furniture every day. 

When you moved in, Jumin soon began considering buying a larger place, because to him the massive studio was ‘too small for two people’ and you had to quickly stop him before he bought a literal estate. True, the interior decorating had already been carefully furnished with only Jumin as the sole resident in mind, but bit by bit, your personal touches began gracing his home. 

Like your closet became your closet, both lounges were slowly re-decorated with your own personal tastes in color and decor, your little knick-knacks found their way upon bookshelves and countertops, Jumin’s luxury dishware now included your favorite decorated mugs and cute kitten ramen bowl.

And those touches are what finally made Jumin feel like his apartment was a home. All the luxury in the world couldn’t buy this coziness. 

— Saeyoung —

The man is a dirty, rowdy boy who pays almost no attention to maintaining his habitat. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have an aesthetic, though. He buys the top-of-the-line technology with colored LED lights and polished marble surfaces. There’s so much color surrounding his bunker, you can almost forget you’re twenty feet underground. 

Seriously, sometimes it’s like a rave. His triple-door smartscreen fridge is lit with deep blue blacklights, his bathroom mirror is backlit with a chrome rainbow spectrum that shifts colors, the ceiling light of his bedroom is this big circular fixture that mimics different planets with a push of a remote. 

But he only pays attention to decor he’s interested in. So when it comes to his couches, his dining table, his bedframe? He just outsourced it to designer brands and picked the most generic, modern-style ones they had. To keep it even more simple, it’s all a boring black color. And many of it is part of the same collection - you noticed that the dining chairs, the coffee table, and the barstools are all the same design. 

And no, he’s doesn’t clean after himself. He really doesn’t have the heart nor time to, especially before meeting you. So there’s food crumbs in the crack of his office chair, loose clothing in random places on the floor and tossed over chairs, and product bottles thrown haphazardly amongst the bathroom. 

When you came into the picture and saved him from the agency, his work racketed down by a huge margin. No more working 52 hours at a stretch without sleep, no more entire weeks spent fearing for his life if he didn’t finish a job. This left more time and energy to step it up a bit and stop being such a slob. Mostly for your sake, if he was being honest. 

Almost all of the fancy tricked up stuff in his apartment was his own doing. And once he had more free time, there was even more of it. So enjoy your voice-activated desk lamp with bluetooth and 30 different color settings, that was just an afternoon project and he’s got something even better for the two of your’s anniversary!

— Saeran —

Unlike his brother, Saeran actually values cleanliness and a good living space. Partially due to his bad immune system and how a clean environment can make a big difference in his health, and partially because that’s just the kind of guy he is. He had his own room in Mint Eye, which was tastefully decorated under his own hand with antiques and art statement pieces. Decorating his room was one of the few opportunities he had to express himself. 

Once he escaped Mint Eye and began living with you, it took many months to regain some assemblance of a normal daily life, and one of the first steps was to retrofit his living space into a safe, encouraging home. 

With your help, the two of you planned out everything with the intention of creating a haven of sorts. He still wanted his antique aesthetic and romantic colors, but now there was technology that encouraged communication with the outside world. Now, the curtains were pulled to reveal an exciting, open world right on the doorstep.  

The antique interior complimented his flowers very well. ‘Cause flowers and plants are a constant fixture in the home. Sometimes, its cut flowers arranged in a Regency-era glass vase, but mostly they’re potted flowering plants. Huge ones in the living room, or tiny ones on accent shelves, or the several window planters you and he maintained with love and care.

As he regained his confidence, the apartment showed his progress. He began going out to buy things on his own, without needing you to accompany him. And the things he brought back were sometimes ... weird, but oddly charming, like a mounted authentic Viking drinking horn, or a framed poster of a map from a fantasy video game. 

He just ... enjoyed these odd things. His life was so free now, which meant he could go out and be weird and enjoy these weird things without anything holding him back. You proudly displayed all of these trophies, all evidence of Saeran’s healing.  

— Jihyun —

It’s canon that Jihyun’s apartment in-game was mostly fitted to Rika’s wishes, not his own. We don’t really see it, but if the photo panned out more we’d see pale, birchwood accents and light linen fabric. Everything bright, and lit with white lights. Almost all of it Rika’s influence.

When he and you found a new apartment, Jihyun wanted to take this opportunity to establish himself more, this time. So instead of that pure, untouched look, he added more color in washes of warm leathers, brushed metal, and natural lighting. 

It was worldly, for lack of a better term. Lots of mementos from his time traveling, all adding dimension to the living space. A woven Navajo basket from New Mexico, a large print replica of a page from the Book Of Kells, a bronze modern art sculpture from an emerging Indian artist. 

And the furniture themselves were uniquely artistic, too. Jihyun one day brought home new earthy-brown decorative cushions, bought from a company that produced textiles dyed using food waste scrap. He went to a warehouse auction for authentic, obscure antiques, and graced the living room with a richly red bubinga-wood rocking chair from 1950′s Germany. 

Funnily enough, as graceful of a man he is, he can sometimes be a bit too tacky in his choice for decor. He tried to argue for fake exposed-brick wallpaper as an accent wall, which you had to shoot down. More than once, he showed you a new art piece about to be sold at a new gala that he wanted to go bid for, and the particular piece was just ... too esoteric or even gaudy to be displayed. 

Jihyun just loved to feel like he could be himself. And he loved how you encouraged this new life of his. An actual home, now, free from his family or Rika. True love can only blossom under freedom, and that’s what this home represented for him. 

[tvandenneagram]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine: Amy Santiago - Type 6w7

Type 6s are reliable, loyal, hard-working and insecure. Type 6s have the basic desire to be safe and have stability, which often manifests in their relationships. They have a basic fear of being without support or guidance. At their best, 6s are self-reliant and content with themselves, and at their worst, they are full of self-doubt and insecurities.

Amy is very organised, hard working and reliable. She is often very concerned about other’s opinions and wants everyone to like her. Sometimes, this leads to going overboard when trying to impress her peers. Amy is loyal to the Nine-Nine and is very protective of them. She often wants to control what is going on in her life, in order to feel more secure. Amy has a manic energy about her which is often attributed to Type 6s.

I was debating typing Amy as a Type 1, because she is very organised and rule oriented, but these are also traits which are evident in Type 6s. Type 6s show a lot of respect towards rules and are afraid of breaking them. Type 6s also have an interesting relationship with authority, depending on the individual. Some 6s mistrust authority (usually counter phobic 6s), whereas, other Type 6s tend to gravitate to authority as they can provide stability. 6s will tend to idealise authority if they believe them to be a good leader. Amy’s relationship with Holt demonstrates in spades, this flocking towards authority figures. She is often trying very hard to win his approval and values his opinion immensely.

Furthermore, Amy is shown to plan everything in her life very meticulously and is shown to have great anxiety when things do not go according to plan. For example, Amy developed a smoking habit to deal with the high levels of stress that she feels. Additionally, when trying to have a baby with Jake, she plans and schedules every aspect to the most minute detail.

Amy and Jake complement each other well in their relationship. While, Jake is very spontaneous and impulsive, Amy is the opposite. Amy brings out a more mature side to Jake and helps him focus more on the future. Whereas, Jake helps Amy become more spontaneous and have more fun. Sometimes, they conflict over Jake’s childishness as Amy worries it threatens their security. For example, Jake bets the couple’s new car in the Jimmy Jab games, which infuriates Amy as they need to have a car.

Tri-type: 6w7 - 1w2 - 3w2

Some quotes to describe Amy’s traits and motivations:

“Okay, well. I've been planning this wedding for the last six months.”

“And if you told me yesterday everything that was gonna go wrong, I would have had a panic attack that sent me into the ER. But I'm here, and I've never been happier. Life is unpredictable. Not everything's in our control. But as long as you're with the right people, you can handle anything. And you, Jake Peralta, are the right person for me. But I do have some bad news. There is a bomb at this wedding as well.”

“Look, it's okay. We all have fears. I'm so claustrophobic, I can't even go into the downstairs supply closet. I hear they have some hot new binder clips, but I'll never know.”

“Cruise itineraries, hot out of the laminator. Who's ready for some nonstop totally scheduled fun?”

“Okay. First, the good news. I've generated a detailed timeline broken down into 30-second increments to keep us on track. The bad news: we're already 16.5 increments behind schedule.”

Amy: “Absolutely, sir! I won't just head it up, I will head and shoulders it up. I will dive in, and swim around it, and just be altogether go-good with it.” Holt: “Be more articulate when you speak to the children.” Amy: “Yes, sir, I will make better mouth.”

Holt: “I'm disappointed, Santiago. I thought you and I were close.” Amy: “I know you're manipulating me... but I love it, and I will tell you anything.”

Amy: “My parents arrange the photos of their kids by who makes them the proudest. Number one goes on the mantel above the fireplace, two through four on the piano, and the rest are on the staircase.” Rosa: “This is wack. So David's on the mantel?” Amy: “Always. Meanwhile, my picture gathers dust on the piano.”

Rosa: “I've never met anyone who cares so much about stupid bureaucracy.” Amy: “Bureaucracy is not stupid. It's elegant. It's a beautiful puzzle waiting to be cracked. Every rule, every form has its purpose. It all fits together, and when the puzzle is solved and you take a step back and see the big picture, it's like staring into the face of God.”

[starcountesseevee]

A Rocket Coincidence (Part 3)

Part 2 / Part 4

     She must have fallen asleep because she awoke to the sound of an alarm. Bolting upright Kali grabbed her Pokegear to check the time as she realized she had forgotten to set her own alarm for today. 7:00, she breathed a sigh of relief, she still had plenty of time to get ready and grab a quick bite to eat. 

     “Turn it off, Noah!” Maddie’s voice complained from the other side of the room as Kali climbed down from her bunk. She was surprised to see the girl wasn’t in the bunk under her and the bed was already neatly made but she didn’t stop to think too much of it as the two siblings started bickering. Grabbing her pack she headed to the washroom to clean up and get changed. 

     The cafeteria was much more crowded this morning than it had been last night when she grabbed dinner. Kali waited in line and got a bagel sandwich and coffee to go that she could eat while walking so she didn’t have to fight for a spot at one of the tables. There was already a good number of people walking around on the road to the stadium and most of the vendor stalls lining the sides of it were already open for business. 

     “Kali!” A newly familiar voice sounded behind Kali and she turned to see Maddie and Noah making their way over to her. 

     “Hi.” Kali wasn’t sure she had had enough caffeine yet to hold a conversation with Maddie. 

     “Hey! I’m glad we saw you! I didn’t get a chance to wish you good luck before the screening rounds begin!” 

     “Thanks! You too!” Kali smiled back hoping she sounded genuine. 

     “I don’t need luck.” Noah stated smugly which earned him another punch in the arm from his sister.

     “Don’t be so rude!” Maddie scolded him as they approached the stadium. Large screens were set up around the outside perimeter that displayed the matches for the morning. Every trainer’s name had been entered into a computer system that assigned pairs randomly to be fair. Kali headed over to the closet screen to look for her name, vaguely aware that Maddie and Noah were trailing behind her.

     “Hah!” Noah exclaimed as he came up next to Kalysta pointing at one of the lists. Kali followed his gaze and saw he was pointing at his picture and name on the left and to the right was hers. “Looks like you’ll be losing your first battle.” 

     “No way, Noah. I bet she’s gonna kick your butt!”

     “Hey, who’s side are you on, sis?” 

     “Looks like it starts in 15 minutes, you should probably head to the courts.” Maddie ignored Noah’s question while continuing to search for her own name. “I’m not matched for another hour, that means I can watch yours!” 

     “Well, good luck,” Kalysta smiled at Noah but he was still pouting. “I’ll see you over there.” She took off before either of them could say anything else. The pre-screening rounds were held in smaller courts separate from the main stadium so that multiple matches could be done at once, since there were over 200 trainers competing. All the competitors would have three one-on-one battles in this screening round and at the end only the top 48 would move onto the semi-finals. Kali found her court number and checked in with the referee. A few minutes later Noah and Maddie showed up, the first looking much more smug than he had when she left them. Maddie waited until Noah was checking in to mouth ‘good luck’ to Kali with two thumbs up. 

     “Okay trainers! Take your places.” Both Kali and Noah stood on opposite sides of the court as the screen behind the referee flashed on with both their names and ID photos in different colored blocks. Kali’s name was in green, Noah’s in red with the yellow Team Instinct logo in the top right. Next to their names was a digital wheel with alternating red and green blocks that would determine who was allowed to send out a pokemon first. This person would have the disadvantage as their opponent could choose their pokemon based on the weaknesses of their opponent’s. Kali held her breath as the colors of the wheel began flashing in a clockwise circle, slowing until it settled on red. She released her breath, adrenaline starting to rush through her veins, and turned back to Noah to see what he would bring out. 

     “Gliscor! You’re up!” Noah announced, tossing a pokeball forward. A rather large purple bat-like creature emerged, its thick tail swishing back and forth vigorously as it took in its surroundings. Kali unclipped a pokeball from her belt. 

     “Alright, Weiss. Let’s beat him.” She said softly to the ball before pressing the release and tossing it forward. Her icy Eevee evolution, a Glaceon, was a bit different in its coloring. Instead of the usual light teal body with dark teal accents on the feet and tail hers was a pale blue that was almost white with deep blue accents, which was why Kali named it Weiss. There were several ‘oooo’s’ from people who had gathered to watch, unusual colored pokemon were rare. Kali glanced over at Noah and felt a twinge of pity for the kid as his face fell. Her ice-type was especially effective against his Gliscor. 

     “Let the match begin!” The referee called. 

     “Gliscor, fly up! Use Wing Attack!” Noah was quick with his commands. His Gliscor flew higher up and began beating its large wings preparing to attack. 

     “Hold!” Kali called out to Weiss who obeyed. She waited until the Gliscor began to swoop down, its wings glowing white with energy, before shouting “Dodge!” There was no way for the Gliscor to redirect the attack and it slammed into the ground right where her pokemon had been moments before, sending up a cloud of dust. “Ice shard!” Kali called a command again. Weiss spun back quickly and opened her mouth, sending several sleek shards of ice at the cloud of dust. 

     “Gliscor, fly up and Dodge!” Both of Noah’s hands were clenched in anticipation. His Gliscor rose up but there were visible ice crystals on one of his wings, a clear indication that at least one of Weiss’s attacks hit. “Use Earthquake!” 

     “Careful, Weiss! Brace for it!” Earthquake was a strong move and there was no way her Glaceon, without the ability to fly, would be able to fully dodge it. The Gliscor began swinging its tail rapidly back and forth as Weiss hunkered low to the ground for more stability. Moments later the Gliscor swung its tail down in one final, powerful move, crashing it into the court and sending shockwaves across it. Kali’s Glaceon got knocked backwards and skidded a few feet on it's side. Weiss swiftly recovered and jumped back to the center of the ring, her white fur now streaked with dirt. 

     “Gliscor, use Wing Attack!” Noah called again. Kali quickly had Weiss dodge and use her Ice Shard attack again, slowing Noah’s Gliscor down with ice even more as Noah called for it to use Wing Attack again. She was keeping a close eye on the Gliscor’s speed and after a third round of Weiss dodging and hitting Kali knew it was slow enough in its attacks that she could get a battle-finishing move in. 

     “Weiss, Avalanche!” It was definitely a risk, Avalanche took longer to power up and left her pokemon open to attack but Kali was positive she could pull it off before Weiss was seriously injured. Her Glaceon crouched down in a stance and its body began to glow a faint blue, the fur along its back turning into small icy spikes as dots of snow began floating up from it to start forming a cloud above it.

     “Gliscor, Aerial Ace now!” Noah looked more confident as his Gliscor flew higher up, its body glowing with a white energy before it shot back down in a blur of movement. 

     “Hold!” Kali winced as the Gliscor slammed down into her Glaceon but when it shot back up she was relieved to see Weiss still standing, the cloud above her even larger. While Noah’s Gliscor had done the attack it had also clearly taken some damage from slamming into her Glaceon’s icy fur. It was clearly worn out. And flying lower than it had been. “Now!” Kali called out, smiling with hope as Weiss let out a short bark. Large chunks of ice rained down from the cloud and struck Noah’s Gliscor causing it to crash land into the ground. Everyone was tense as the cloud cleared. 

     “Gliscor!” Noah cried out as his pokemon tried to right itself and fly but wound up collapsing on the court, obviously spent. 

     “Gliscor is unable to battle! Kalysta O’Malley wins!” Kali knelt down with a grin as her Glaceon came back to her.

     “You did great, girl.” She scratched behind one of Weiss’s ears as it let out a little chirp of contentment before she got out its pokeball to return it. Kalysta stood as Noah approached. 

     “Good match.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake. 

     “You, too. You did well.” 

     “Not good enough.” Noah said sullenly as they both headed out of the court.

     “It was only your first match, you still have a chance to move on.” Kali found herself consoling the younger kid. Maddie was right outside the gate but talking animatedly with a tall man who’s back was to them. As they approached she waved them over. 

     “That was a great match!” Maddie beamed and the man turned to see who she was talking to. He was tall with spiky blonde hair, blue eyes, and wearing way too much leather for a summer day. 

     “Noah, right?” Spark flashed a smile while pointing a finger gun at Noah. “Your sister was just getting me up to date on your training! I’m glad I got to catch your match, it’s nice to finally meet you two in person.” Noah’s face flushed bright red as he stammered out a thanks. It seemed Maddie wasn’t the only one who was star struck. “Is that the Gligor you hatched from an egg? It's grown so much!” 

     Kali was hoping to slink away but Spark shifted his attention to her. 

     “Nice win!” Spark extended his hand in greeting. “My name is Spark, I’m the leader of Team Instinct. I don’t think we’ve met? I'm usually good with faces, I’m sorry if we have.” 

     “Kalysta. And no, we haven’t.” 

     “Then it's nice to meet you, Kalysta. Your Glaceon is impressive, you don’t see too many off color ones and it really seemed to trust you. I’m sure your Team is proud of your win.” 

     “She’s not on any Team.” Maddie piped up. 

     “Oh? Were you looking to join one?” Spark’s eyes lit up. “I always have spots open on my team for new Trainers. It looks like you have a great bond with your pokemon and they trust you, I think you’d make a great fit on Team Instinct. Just like these two!” Spark put an arm over each of the sibling’s shoulders and squeezed. Maddie looked like she was about to pass out from excitement.

     “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not looking to join any Team.” This is exactly what Kali had been hoping to avoid. She waited for a rebuttal but it didn’t come. 

     “Keeping your options open, I get it.” Spark flashed another smile. “But if you ever decide to, keep Team Instinct in mind!” He winked at her before addressing the siblings again. “Anyways, I’ve got to get going. There’s more matches to catch! I look forward to checking in with you two again!” Maddie waved after him even after he had turned away. 

     “There’ll be no living with her now.” Noah muttered under his breath as Maddie began hopping around in excitement. 

     “Oh my mythics! I can’t believe he hugged me! I have to tell EVERYONE!” Maddie exclaimed as she pulled out her Pokegear and began tapping away rapidly. Kali gave Noah a look of sympathy. She might have to share a room with Maddie tonight but Noah was stuck with his sister. Noah rolled his eyes in response before reminding his sister that she had a match to get to. Kali watched Noah drag Maddie away with a chuckle before heading off to the line up board to see if she had been matched up for her second round yet.

Part 2 / Part 4

[chicagocityfclanspromoblog]

Percival ‘Percy’ McCormick III → Charlie Cox → Dhole

→ Basic Information

Age: 228

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Born or Made: Born

Birthday: January 22nd

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Religion: Jewish

→ His Personality Percy has very rarely failed in his life. This is not necessarily because of his skills or brains, but mainly his family’s money. He is a creative and often idealistic person, who is focused on pushing the envelope to see what else is out there. He is confident and charming, and has managed to make most things he creates work. One thing that isn’t working is his idea of a joint pack. It began in the 1930s as a way to bring people to Chicago and keep themselves above boat during the Depression. It worked for a while, but in the last 20 years has begun to spiral. Violence and hatred have gotten to a boiling point and the pressure only rises with new members moving in every month. He still thinks it is working and an idea worth fighting for, however even he is feeling the cracks. Percy has become an insomniac and his emotions are so high strung that his eyes frequently flip back and forth between white and his typical brown. He has taken to carrying sunglasses to hide his effect from those in and outside of his pack.

He has recently decided, under Liz’s recommendation, that he needs to destress his life. Percy gets self-confidence and pride from his work, so slowing down feels as though he is failing more. It has allowed him to attempt to fix his relationship with his wife. He is absent at best and neglectful at worst when it comes to Rose, and he realized he had started to become exactly like his father. He wants kids and he wants his kids to see two people in love raising them. Percy has a habit of thinking about those who benefit from all his actions, rather than those who must suffer with the other side. He is willing to sacrifice the few for the many and even if it hurts others, may refuse to give up what he wants.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Head of the Triumvirate and Owner of WJDF station, The Chicago Herald, McCormick Media, and a conglomerate of publications.

Scars: None

Tattoos: Up to Player

Two Likes: Sunglasses and Skyscrapers

Two Dislikes: Close minded people and Conspiracy Theorists

Two Fears: Bankruptcy and People thinking he’s fraud

Two Hobbies: Genealogy and Proofreading

Three Positive Traits: Idealistic, Charming, Confident

Three Negative Traits: Assertive, Proud, Unyielding

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Percival McCormick II (Father): Percival II built the media in Chicago from the ground up. He initially ran the telegraph and telegram stations out of Chicago and eventually created The Chicago Herald and the radio station. These catered to humans, but also supernaturals. There were special channels to broadcast supernatural news and it created the foundation for other supernaturals to create content and information for themselves. Creating an empire so expansive was not without cost. Percival II was rarely home and treated his wife and son as merely objects set out to impress. It left him with a constant need to prove to his father that he was just as clever as he was, even in death. Percy III created the first television station and has expanded into the internet and digital sphere as time has gone on.

Pamela McCormick (Mother): Pamela was not frequently involved with Percy. She was there for the worst moments to comfort him, but she was dealing with her own issues and didn’t have the time to help both. She was never cruel and often was willing to listen and entertain his imaginative ideas.

Sibling Names:

None

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Rose McCormick (Wife): Percy is admittedly a horrible husband. He’d like to blame it on the way he was raised, but even he knows he could stop that cycle whenever he wants. Rose is smart and fierce, but didn’t fully know what she was getting into when marrying him. He needed someone to stand by his side and have no desire to get involved in his life. He’d provide for whatever she wanted as long as she’d keep everything in their marriage private and eventually have a kid with him. It’s been a decade since they’ve been married, and they’ve kept up their deal. She has her own bedroom and they only typically see each other over dinner. Rose hates him and he understands why. Recently, Percy has begun to think being open with his wife and mate may calm him down more. He wants to start a real relationship with Rose, and is attempting to show that to her. She is becoming more receptive though she doubts him.

Platonic Connections:

Elizabeth ‘Liz’ Snow (Best Friend): Percy knows Liz better than anyone else. Liz is the only one who has truly seen him at his most vulnerable. They understand each other and the choices they make and support one another fully. It’s hard not to fall in love with someone who knows you well, and Percy was not immune to this. However, he knew it would never work. He found a dhole shifter who would agree to what he wanted from a marriage and tried to block out any thoughts of Liz, unsuccessfully. He still is much more emotionally connected with Liz and confides in her, rather than in Rose.

Simon Brodeur (Packmate): Percy has over 90,000 nimbles in his care and would be lying if he said he knew all of them by heart. However, Simon has recently popped up on his rader and Percy has been keeping a worrisome eye on him. Percy has never had a bad experience with Simon but when Simon’s mate was obviously killed by a hunter, Simon had blacked out causing a mess for Percy. Simon had gone into a frenzy and changed a few humans. Percy and Liz were able to cover it up and Simon was released punishment free but Percy is unsure what his next step should be and whether to go after the hunters who did this.

Austin Semler (Packmate): Percy is familiar with Austin work and the work of Austin parents. Percy knows potential when he sees it and Austin is bursting with potential but it is clear to Percy that Austin isn’t ready yet.

Isla Johns (Packmate): Isla acts as the speaker for the prey members of their clan and is also a member of the Triumvirate. Percy and Isla are nearly never on the same page making Liz their referee on larger impact topics. They can never have a strong relationship while he knows what she thinks of him and how he runs the clan. It would both him more, if he wasn’t as confident that Liz saw his vision and wanted it to succeed.

Anton Kowalski (Unsure): Anton has not been a part of his clan for long but Percy isn’t blind to how Anton avoids him in comparison to the way he flocks to everyone else. While Anton isn’t the first coywolf that Percy has met, he is one of the first shifters to transition into Chicago in decades from a single shift nimble pack; meaning their pack one had one type of nimble species. He’s been keeping an eye on Anton and plans on giving him a proper introduction soon.

Clarisse ‘Clara’ Fields (Clan Leader): Percy and Clara have known one another since they were kids. While Asa and Sam preferred leaving him in the dust, Clara was always a bit more willing to be friendly. He was glad when she took over as head of the Heavies and they often end up on the same side in council meetings.

Chris Bialar (Clan Leader): Chris stated once that he would be neutral when it came to nimble affairs and Percy has done the same for him. Percy personally doesn’t care about the local cat clan and only communicates at council meetings with them. Percy, however, has recently heard rumors about Chris and Ellis discussing a supernatural schooling system and wants in on the project.

Ellis Watts (Clan Leader): Percy has little interactions with the jackal clan and stands neutral when it comes to Ellis. Percy, however, has recently heard rumors about Chris and Ellis discussing a supernatural schooling system and wants in on the project.

Nick Hamelin (Clan Leader): Nick has been around for a while and was friends with Percy’s father. This made things a little easier when it was Percy’s time to take over. Nick and Percy are the closet of allies and their clans often work together to gather information. Percy’s people teach the rats reporting and/or journalistic investigating skills in exchanging for information and leads.

Isaac Baker (Clan Leader): Percy rarely has to deal with the wolves. When he does he typically sends Isla to discuss any incidents they come across with the wolves. Isaac certainly brings more spontaneity to the votes and certainly makes council meetings more interesting.

Scorpius Getta (Clan Leader): Percy is indifferent about Getta and the vampire community as a whole. The only time they communicate is at council meetings.

Sirius Cobic (Clan Leader): Sirius and Percy have come to an understanding as the police and media to keep the people of Chicago from finding out that over 1/3rd of their population is composed of supernatural beings. Their people work closely together but Percy personally deals with Sirius each time as a sign of respect and good faith.

Hostile Connections:

Sam Thompson (Childhood Bully): Sam and Asa used to bully Percy as a child. They would bring him into the middle of the woods, shift and then run. He frequently got lost, and only found his way back by accident, or by Clara helping him. He thinks Sam believing he could be the head of the Heavies is laughable, and ignores any contact that Sam tries to make with him.

Asa Fields (Childhood Bully): Sam and Asa used to bully Percy as a child. They would bring him into the middle of the woods, shift and then run. He frequently got lost, and only found his way back by accident, or by Clara helping him. Asa disappeared about a hundred years ago, which Percy was grateful for. Unfortunately he’s returned and apparently wants to make things right within his pack.

Pets:

None

→ History (paragraph(s) on background)

→ The Present (paragraph(s) on how the character connects to the plot)

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

Charlie Cox (Percival “Percy” McCormick III) [1][2][3][4]

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

To Keep You Safe

Title: We wear red so they don’t see us bleed

Chapter: 5/?

Author:  hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary:  Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn’t have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E (later on)

Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions.

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings for this chapter: Blood, language, and violence

~

After our talk, to his credit, Loki did give me a wide berth. For the next several weeks of life on the Compound, I trained and practiced with Natasha and Wanda, hung out with Thor and Sam, and watched TV with Steve without a single confrontation–let alone sighting. The Trickster God had to have been using whatever abilities he normally employed to keep tabs on everyone to steer clear of me. And that was one hundred percent peachy-keen in my book.

Tony and Bruce finally finished their extensive testing on all things me. It was decided that the only powers the mystery box gave me were geokinesis and an increased healing rate. When I asked for a reason why this happened, I was given some medical mumbo jumbo that instantly turned my brain to mush. Long story short, they didn’t know what the box had been, only what it had done to me, and it wasn’t going away. This was my new normal.

The knowledge that this wasn’t going away was one hell of a motivator to get a better handle on everything. And because of that, my grasp on my powers improved. I could control more than one object at a time, and it didn’t drain me physically nearly as much as it did in the beginning. Nor did it require such an emotional toll. I could draw on them without bringing forth the full scope of emotional upheaval as before, although that did seem to help. There was still so much work to do, but I was getting there. Slowly but surely.

As for my physical abilities, those lessons were kicking my ass just as much as I had anticipated. I wasn’t super strong like Steve or Thor, so I had to be more thoughtful and strategic when fighting. Brute force wasn’t going to work when I was only five and a half feet tall and preferred cookies to carrots. Natasha worked on teaching me various martial art techniques that relied more on striking effectively than hammering away at my opponent with my fists. It made sense but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard as hell. I limped away from our training sessions covered in bruises and nursing strained muscles more often than not. Thank goodness for accelerated healing. I needed it to keep up with the grueling sparring sessions.

~~~

Flashing red lights and F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoing throughout the entire Compound jerked me out of my exhaustion-induced sleep. “All Avengers report to the Quinjet immediately. All Avengers, gather your gear and report to the Quinjet immediately.”

I lurched out of bed and ran to my closet, throwing on a pair of dark jeans and a thick long-sleeved t-shirt. I didn’t have a custom suit like everyone else, but this seemed like it would do for whatever I would tackle. I shoved a sturdy pair of boots on my feet and I was barreling out the door.

Natasha was just leaving her room, already fully dressed and ready to kick ass. We both sprinted down the stairs and through the building, crossing the lawn into the hangar. Thor, Bruce, and Captain were all running inside the jet, followed by Natasha. Tony was poised at the edge of the ramp to get inside, looking anxious as he waved people in. When I tried to rush passed him he put his arm across my chest, barring my entrance.

“No can do, Poison Ivy. You’re not ready,” he stated, leaving no room for argument.

Not that I wouldn’t try.

“But what if I-?

“Nope. You stay here with Rock of Ages. F.R.I.D.A.Y. will keep you updated. You’d be a liability. We can’t risk it.” The visor over his face retracted into the suit, allowing him to level me with a hard stare. He didn’t even glance at Vision flying into the jet while holding Wanda securely in his arms.

“Get back. You’ll get burned,” he said more softly, a paternal concern twisting his lips into a frown. He pushed me away from the ramp and jogged inside, closing it behind him.

I had no choice but to back away out of the hangar, watching uselessly as the Quinjet started up and flew through an invisible opening in the force field surrounding the Compound. Once it was gone I pulled out my phone, checking the time. At only four in the morning, it was going to be a long day if all I did was sit around and wait for them to come back.

After heading back into my room and changing from jeans and boots into athletic shorts and tennis shoes, I headed to the gym. If I wasn’t ready for this mission I was going to be ready for the next one. Even if I had to spend hours taking out my frustration and anxiety on a punching dummy until my knuckles bled.

During a break around noon, I chugged water and wiped the sweat from my brow. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., any news?” I panted.

“Sorry, Jen. All I can say is that they made it to their destination and everyone is still alive,” she responded, somehow managing to sound remorseful even as a computer program.

I snarled in frustration and threw down the now empty water bottle, punishing the practice dummy in front of me an elbow to the face. Several hours of doing my best to beat the living daylights out of the dummy and it was no worse for the wear, while the soreness and exhaustion in my limbs weighed them down considerably. But it was this or stare at the TV or wall in the living room distractedly as my mind raced with all the things that could go wrong for them on this sudden mission, and this at least wore me out enough so that I might be able to sleep later.

“Perimeter breach. Perimeter breach. One helicopter on the main lawn,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang out through the compound and my phone in my pocket as red lights flashed throughout the Compound.

Just as I did that morning, I dropped what I was doing and sprang into action--despite my protesting muscles.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit,” I cursed, stopping short just outside the building. A sleek black helicopter was hovering over the middle of the Compound with four men dressed in black protective gear descending from the sides on ropes. As I watched in shock, two more helicopters came into view and began depositing their payloads of terrifying men as well.

As soon as their feet hit the ground, they raised impressive-looking guns into their sightlines and ran toward the main building. Right at me.

Ah hell.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., I could use some backup,” I grunted, crouching down behind a bush and looking around to see what I had nearby I could use as weapons. Some trees, basketball sized rocks and a giant decorative boulder were all I could see. Awesome.

“The team is still off-base, Jen,” she replied, her voice muffled from my phone in my back pocket. Super awesome.

It was a long shot, but I had to ask her anyway. “What about Loki?”

“He is handling the intruders on the West side of the Compound, Jen. Several groups have come in on foot.”

Loki was helping? What in the world was that about? Maybe it was just a chance to do something, wreak some havoc, as he had to be bored as hell cooped up here without an outlet. If his boredom and need for mayhem was keeping more men off of my back, I’d take it.

But, that still left the group in front of me for me to handle on my own. I’d never fought anyone, not really. Sparring with Nat and training with Wanda did not live up to this experience at all in terms of preparedness. I was the end of the line, though, so I had to try my best. Gritting my teeth, I focused on the ground, lifting my arms and pulling up as much dirt and debris from the grass as I could. The men slowed their advance at the peculiar sight, but only just enough to look at one another briefly before continuing. With a shout I sent the debris flying at them, hoping to blind them temporarily while I figured out what the heck I was supposed to do next. My weak plan wasn’t the most effective. I was disheartened as they crept on even as they blinked dirt from their eyes.

Plan B. I curled my fingers inward and ripped several thin branches from the tree nearest to myself. Aiming the sharp, broken ends at the men, I flicked my fingers outward and sent them flying with as much oomph as I could muster. Only one went through the neck of a man and sent him bleeding and thrashing to the ground. The rest hit their helmets or thick kevlar vests like they were nothing.

“I’m so screwed,” I muttered. My aim still wasn’t the best with multiple projectiles, and that was without having spent the morning taking out my frustrations in the gym. The adrenaline rushing through me could only do so much to compensate, and that wasn’t going to last forever.

The closest to me grabbed something off of his belt and threw it at the building behind me. I whipped my head around, tracking the beeping with my eyes to get a better look at what had been thrown. Having never seen one in real life, my brain stuttered over what it was for half a second. They had grenades?!

My feet carried me away from the building before I had made the conscious decision to move, propelling me as fast as possible from the explosive. It just wasn’t quite fast enough. The shockwave battered against me, followed by tiny pricks of pain all over the back of my body as white-hot glass embedded itself in my unprotected skin. The cry that tore through my lips was almost silent to my ringing ears, but it was enough to draw the attention of the men, who rained bullets down on me.

No time to think or run, I brought a large, decorative stone in front of me like a shield. I saw dust particles and chunks of rock fall to the ground and I struggled to keep it between me and the men. My teeth ground together and all the muscles in my body strained as I directed all of the energy that constantly coursed through me at holding up the massive weight while also slowly backing away from them. I just needed to get inside the building. I could take them out one at a time if I could get more cover. Maybe.

As soon as I was close enough to the now blown-out glass wall, I shoved my hands and, consequently, the boulder at two of the men and dashed inside, slamming my back into a concrete wall for cover and ignoring the wave of pain it brought to the new wounds I had just gotten. Thank goodness for modern minimalist architecture and adrenaline.

I took a few deep breaths and got to my knees, turning around to poke my head out to see who was left. Two pairs of legs were still beneath the human-sized boulder I had thrown, so that just left nine baddies for me to deal with. Going for broke and hoping that this was something I could do, I reached out towards a tree near the back of the group. I could feel the glowing life-force of it, from the tips of the branches to the roots.

“Here goes nothing,” I growled, directing my energy to the roots, willing them to grow. I reached out and pulled hard, and for my efforts, I saw the thick dark roots burst from the ground and race toward one of the men. They tangled around his ankles as I twisted my fingers in a circle, pulling him down and wrapping around his body. He panicked and fired his weapon wildly, trying to shoot the roots off of him, but only succeeded in hitting the stomach of one of his buddies. I urged the roots to wrap around his chest and neck, and the shooting stopped abruptly.

In the distraction of flexing my newfound powers, I failed to notice the man coming up around the wall until just before he shot. I ducked my head and the bullet lodged itself into the concrete inches from my ear, sending grit flying into my eyes. I wildly turned, flailing desperately and pulling another stone from outside to slam into the back of his unprotected neck.

As the man fell, I saw the muzzle of his gun flash before white-hot agony exploded in my shoulder.

In the movies, when someone gets stabbed or shot, usually they'll fly back dramatically and scream. They have a few seconds to mutter some last words and then it's over. Turns out getting shot isn't like the movies. I didn't fly back several feet, soaring through the air to sprawl ungainly onto the floor. I sank to sit on my heels, blinking harshly as my brain attempted to process the worst pain I'd ever experienced as it radiated from my shoulder. My hand shot up to cover the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood as it pulsed out of my body in time with my staccato heartbeat. It took several tries to take a deep breath, the action seemingly doing more harm than good as the movement tugged on my shoulder.

Gotta focus. I had to get my head in the game. The remaining seven bad guys were still coming, and fast. It didn’t matter that I was injured to them. They weren’t going to stop to give me a time out to get patched up, so I just had to keep going. My best bet on stopping them relied on my being able to see them which unfortunately meant sticking my head out of cover. I clenched my teeth as I got to my feet and let out a guttural battle cry as I turned around to face them.

I was most definitely going to die today, but when my friends returned and watched the footage, I didn’t want them to see me cowering in fear until one of them put a bullet in my brain. That wasn’t what being an Avenger was about. It was about fighting until the last breath, and taking down as many of these bastards as I could along the way. Sorry, guys. Sorry, Tony.

Heads turned in my direction, guns following suit. With one hand busy gripping my bullet wound, the other curled into a fist as I focused on bringing every single stone on the Compound lawn levitating in the air.

“Get down!” Loki shouted, running from the opposite side of the building toward me, looking the battle-hardened warrior in his leather armor. An invisible force knocked me to the ground with such force that the back of my head bounced against the tile floor.

And then everything became a blur.

Loki screaming in rage.

Deafening tearing and ripping sounds.

Bullets flying and smashing into the wall.

Warm blood matting my hair and pooling in the hollows of my neck.

Blood-curdling screams cutting off suddenly.

A pale, unfocused face.

Excruciating pain as I was jostled into strong arms.

Is this what dying feels like?

The scent of iron and sweat and leather and spice.

“I am not allowing you to die, damn it!”

And then darkness swallowed me whole.

~~~

A flurry of voices pulled me from the blissful, painless darkness.

“It’s been three days.”

“I know that. Her vitals are stable. You gotta give her time.”

“That’s not good enough!”

“What else can we do?”

I took stock of my body with my eyes closed. My limbs were heavy on the soft surface that I rested on, probably a bed. Besides the voices, a steady beeping that matched the painful drumbeat in my head. Probably a heart monitor, which meant that I was in some sort of a hospital. Itching fire burned on my shoulder, and I blamed that for the real reason why I had woken up. It was impossible to ignore, just like the loud voices echoing around the room.

“You can stop shouting in my room, for starters,” I croaked, my voice dry and scratchy from disuse. God, I sounded weak.

I peeled my eyes open only to immediately close them against the bright lights above me. Trying again, I opened them just enough to squint at my surroundings. I’d landed myself in the infirmary of the Compound once again. Not a hospital, but I had been close enough. A frazzled Tony, Natasha, and Thor appeared to be the culprits for the shouting match I’d just heard.

“If you’re going to shout, at least give me some more pain meds so I can sleep through it,” I grumbled, hoping that the bad attempt at humor would ease some of the anxiety from their faces as I tried to sit up in the bed, only to fall back down with a gasp as soon as I put weight on my shoulder. The shock of pain was enough to tell me that that was a very bad idea right now.

All three rushed over to me at once. Thor took my right hand carefully, mindful of the IV connected to the back of it, and Natasha took the left. Tony moved behind my bed only to reappear with a syringe full of unknown liquid that he injected into the IV line. Within moments a weight smothered the pain and pulled a sigh of relief from deep within me. Ahh, pain meds.

“Milady, I am so glad to see you awake,” Thor said softly, his thumb lightly stroking the backs of my fingers as he smiled down at me.

“We gotta work on your observation skills,” Nat teased, gesturing to my shoulder and giving me a thin smile.

“Pebbles, I thought I told you not to scare me like this,” Tony chided me, standing at my feet. His hands rested on my blanket-covered ankles, clutching them like I was going to run out of the room and get shot up again. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Once was enough for me.

“What happened?” I directed my quiet question at Tony, knowing he would have the most forthright answer of the bunch.

“We have been searching for these six rocks, called Infinity Stones. That’s what Vision has in his head, the Mind Stone. This guy called Thanos is trying to get all of them together. Reindeer Games says that he wants to rule the world with it, wipe out half of everything in existence. So, we’ve been trying to track them down,” he said, brow furrowed. “We’ve already destroyed one, well, Wanda did. The Mind Stone. Thor stole it from some nut job on another planet months ago. The Space Stone was in the Tesseract, which Loki had. When he and Thor escaped Ragnarok, Loki brought it back as a peace offering. So that’s one’s gone, too. F.R.I.D.A.Y. is programmed to look for certain… anomalies that might be one of the remaining stones being used. She’s found one in New York City, but the wizard that is currently using it won’t give it up. That’s a work in progress. Something sketchy was happening in New York City, and that was the alert that she gave us. It was Thanos, with the Soul Stone, trying to get the other stone from the wizard. We managed to get it from him. Took a few licks, Steve broke an arm and Wanda a leg, but it’s destroyed now. We’re still looking for the Power Stone and the Reality Stone,” he rambled, exhaustion lining his face as he recalled the events he had rattled off.

“That’s, um, a lot to take in,” I replied, my thoughts muddled by the glorious meds I had been given. That was a lot to unpack, and I wasn’t in any state to even try to do that. It could wait for another day.

“Yeah, so, anyway, we were off fighting Grimace when those assholes from Hydra attacked here. We didn’t even know about it until we got back onto the jet and F.R.I.D.A.Y. let us know. We booked it as fast as we could, but it had been almost a whole day since…” he trailed off, swallowing thickly and gripping my ankles just a little tighter as he shifted his gaze to my blanket-covered knees.

Natasha chimed in, “Tony was able to stream a live feed from F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s cameras. We saw everything.”

“You fought valiantly against the attackers. Loki took up the battle after you had fallen, finishing it in your stead,” Thor added, his voice clear and proud. Whether it was for me or his brother, that was to be determined. I was too exhausted to worry too much.

Tony nodded to Thor and Natasha in silent thanks. “Standing up like some action hero was a dumbass move, by the way,” he paused, staring me down until I felt thoroughly chewed out.

Only after I looked appropriately shamed for my actions did he continue, “Him knocking you on your ass gave you that nasty goose egg on the back of your head. He took out the rest of the Hydra men before getting you up here. I’m not sure what voodoo he did, but he got the bullet out of your shoulder and slowed the bleeding until the doctors I called could get here,” he finished, taking a deep breath.

“By the time we arrived, you were sound asleep and all patched up. Loki hadn’t left your side the whole time,” Nat added, her brow raised.

A yawn escaped from my mouth without warning and I nodded through it, pulling my hand away from her to at least cover my gaping maw. “Loki saved me?” I asked on the tail-end of the huge yawn.

“If it weren’t for Loki, you would be through the gates of Valhalla by now, Milady,” Thor whispered, his eyes grave as they met mine.

Tony let go of me and walked to my side, nudging Nat out of the way so he could rest the back of his hand on my forehead. “You feeling okay?” he asked, changing the subject abruptly.

The change of subject was not unwelcome. The pain meds seemed to spread like molasses throughout my brain, muddling my already scattered and confused thoughts. There were magical stones that some dude named Thanos wanted to use to destroy half of everything? And the Avengers had been going after them all of this time without my knowledge? How long had these missions been going on where I thought one thing was happening and it was something entirely different? And there was no way in Hell would Loki ever save my life. I was a thorn in his side that made his time stuck in this compound a thousand times worse. No one would’ve blamed him if he’d ‘forgotten’ in the heat of battle to push me into cover, letting Hydra riddle me with bullets.

“Uh, yeah, totally. I could go dancing I feel so great,” I muttered sarcastically, pulling myself out of my thoughts and into the room filled with my friends who watched me with concern.

“It’s on, Jen,” Nat said, winking at me from the edge of my bed.

“Let’s give her some space to rest up, guys,” Tony said, flipping his hand around on my forehead and rubbing it lightly with his thumb before stepping away.

Natasha and Thor both nodded to me with a smile before they left the room, the door whirring shut behind them. Tony gave me a final once-over and then left, calling out before the door closed, “The team left some flowers for you on the bedside table. Don’t kill anyone with them!”

After smiling at the expensive-looking glass vase of roses, I snuggled further into the soft sheets and fell into a deep, drug-induced sleep.

~~~

A cool hand on the side of my head woke me suddenly. My eyes tore open and my left hand shot out, grabbing the attacker before they could do me any harm.

“Loki,” I whispered, startled to see the Asgardian Prince at my bedside. What was he doing here?

“If you’d release my hand, I can resume checking your head wound,” he said flatly.

It was hard to grasp, the annoyed god at my bedside in casual black slacks and a white button-down shirt, waiting for me to let him go when he could easily remove himself from my grip. “Oh.” I sheepishly let go of him, my hand falling to rest at my side.

He maintained eye contact with me for a moment, his brow furrowed as he searched my eyes before looking back at the back of my head. His long fingers moved to my jaw, tugging it away from him so he could get a better look at the injury. I felt them move to probe it gently, pausing whenever I let out a hiss of pain.

“I need to change the bandage again.” His voice was firm but gentle. His tone alone threw me for a loop. It was so odd to hear him speaking cordially to me when I was used to him hissing like a snake or shouting up a storm.

As I busied himself behind me, I searched for the remote that typically accompanies a hospital bed. Finally finding it tucked beneath my leg, I used it to slowly move the automatic bed so I was sitting up. By the time I was finished Loki had come to the other side of the bed with a syringe filled with clear liquid. His piercing green eyes met mine once again as he hesitated only briefly before injecting it into my IV. Had he been waiting for me to stop him? The familiar weight of pain medication flooded my body, revealing what he had done moments before without my prompting.

He put down the syringe onto the table beside my flowers. Only now, instead of the single vase waiting for me, there was another. A single sunflower sat in a tall elegant black and gold vase. I looked back to Loki with a furrowed brow, watching him place bandages, gauze, and alcohol next to the new gift.

Finally, unable to hold back my confusion any longer, I blurted out, “Why are you helping me, Loki?”

“Because you are injured. I’ve taken over this aspect of your care since you arrived.” He said it so matter of factly it was almost an insult. As if there was no question that he wouldn’t be doing such a selfless act and he was offended that I would think he’d act differently.

“One of the others could handle this. Why are you helping me,” I pressed.

He sighed heavily and refused to reply, instead reaching out and placing his fingertips on either side of my face to tilt my head forwards off of the pillow. He moved out of my line of sight for a brief moment and I heard water running before he returned to lean over me, his chest inches from my face. This close, I was able to smell the strong spicy and masculine scent that I was quickly beginning to recognize as distinctly him. A warm, damp compress was pressed to the back of my head.

“Some blood soaked through the bandage into your hair. I need to cleanse it before I can remove the bandage.” He smoothed the damp cloth over my head again and again, the pain meds he had given me doing their job to take away the pain and leave only pressure in its wake.

The bloody rag was tossed unceremoniously into a hamper across the room, and then he grabbed the alcohol and gauze next. Some part of my mind screamed that I shouldn’t be letting him do this, that he was going to turn around any second and wrap those long fingers around my throat to finish me off, but a more rational part of me shut that down. If he was going to kill me, there would be no sense in saving my life in the first place.

And there wasn’t any hatred or malice in his gaze as I strained my eyes to look up to him without moving my head. To be completely honest, I couldn’t glean any emotion from his impassive face as he worked over me. Whatever he had to be feeling was currently locked away behind stony eyes and a firmly-set mouth.

“I’ve been watching you, Jennifer. As you train with the Witch and the Widow. Both will throw you to the ground repeatedly, besting you, and you stand right up and try again. You never give up. You clean up after the others when they forget without expecting gratitude or repayment. You set out the protein powder for the Widow and Captain each night. You explain the flavors of the food you’re eating to Vision. When they left you behind three days ago, instead of pouting like a child, you took to bettering yourself.” As he spoke he tended to the large gash on the back of my head, his soothing cool touch at odds with the confusion that littered his own words. As if I were some puzzle that he couldn’t piece together with just my odd actions as a guide.

How long had he been watching me to notice these things? And when had he noticed them? I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in weeks. He may as well have disappeared off the planet for all that I had encountered him. And had he taken the time to notice these behaviors, or had they simply been a byproduct of his observant nature? Was I a puzzle to him that he must observe to find out, or did he watch everybody that carefully? And how the hell had I not noticed him noticing this?

“And, I need to make amends,” he added, voice so low that I almost didn’t hear it through my scattered thoughts.

His deft fingers left my skin and he placed the remnants of the medical supplies on the table. I took it as a sign that I could move my head and search his face more comfortably, trying to figure out where all of this was coming from. This was not the Loki that I knew. The Loki that I knew would be mocking me for my injuries, possibly prodding my wound to watch me squirm, if he was even here at all. Was this him trying to make things right, to 'make amends' as he had called it? Surely I, the puny mortal, wasn't worth the effort. His actions said otherwise.

He clenched his jaw, meeting my curious gaze with his own. “You knew that you were no match for those men, but you fought them anyway. Why?” Another piece of the puzzle that he couldn’t find a place for.

I swallowed thickly, flashes of the encounters playing through my mind. I killed those men. My heart sped up and tears burned in my eyes despite my clenching them shut. My lungs were unable to hold onto the air from my quick, shallow breaths as their deaths flashed through my mind. Sending an improvised spear through a man’s neck. Crushing a man to death with tree roots. Doing the same to two more with the decorative boulder. Hitting the one who shot me with a rock at the base of his skull. I hadn’t seen him die, but it had hit too hard for him to survive that.

I killed them. I killed them. I’m a murderer.

“Breathe, little one. Breathe, " Loki soothed, his voice velvet as it washed over me.

The bed pitched as he perched himself on it by my hip, and I heard his fingers snapping to get my attention. But it wasn’t loud enough, wasn’t enough to get me to open my eyes and stop the flood of images that refused to leave my mind’s eye.

“If you hadn’t have done what you were forced to do, you would be dead,” he assured me, his voice steady and sure as he tried to pull me out of my ever-increasing panic attack.

I would’ve died either way, so was killing them something I should’ve done? I lowered my chin to my chest, feeling lightheaded as I struggled to take in enough air. My whole body trembled and I pulled my knees to my chest beneath the blankets, wrapping my good arm around them to hold them to me. The onslaught of death paraded through my mind unbidden and unrelenting.

“Look at me,” he commanded. His cool hand cupped my chin, lifting my face so that he could see me more clearly. His thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away the tears that I hadn't even realized had escaped. But it was as if I lost the ability to open my eyes, his attempts be damned. I couldn’t do it even though I so desperately wanted to.

His other hand reached out and settled onto my knee, and it was so startling that I ripped open my eyes and looked at him. Concern softened his features, at odds the harshness of his tone. “They forced your hand. You are not a murderer."

I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I chose silence as I focused on him. He was breathing more forcefully than normal, in through his nose and out through his mouth, and I copied him. We stayed that way for several moments, him showing me how to breathe through my panic and me following his lead. Slowly, the lightheadedness lessened enough so that I could focus. The terrible visions in my head were replaced with the piercing green eyes that held me captive.

Satisfied that I was calming down, he asked again, “Now, answer me this: Why did you fight those men when you knew you were going to lose?”

I looked away to his hand on my knee, the long fingers completely covering it even beneath the thickness of several blankets. It was easier to gather my thoughts without having to watch his reaction to them.

What had I been thinking?

“I… I knew I was the last line of defense. F.R.I.D.A.Y. said I was on my own. Was I supposed to just let them do whatever shitty thing they came to do? Guys busting through Tony’s forcefield in battle gear and assault rifles aren’t showing up to ask for a cup of sugar. If I hadn’t have done anything, they would have found me and killed me anyway. I was dead either way, but maybe I could stop enough of them that you could take the rest out if you came to help.” I ran my hand over my face, dislodging his grip from my chin in the process. “I-I didn’t mean to kill them, but I did mean to stop them. And then after that asshole shot me, I was one hundred percent dead anyway. I was bleeding out. So I might as well take as many out as I could before I go,” I shrugged, wincing at the discomfort the movement brought to my shoulder, even with the haze of medication.

“That reeks of the same self-sacrificing hero act that my brother and his troupe of morons put on. That was foolish and unnecessary,” he scolded.

I offered him nothing more than another shrug, but only of my uninjured shoulder, for his reprimand. It probably was, in his mind, but that didn't mean that I agreed.

“Did you not think I would come to your aid?” Loki asked, the smallest expression of hurt registering on his face as he brought attention to its cause.

“The last time we talked you held a knife to my throat, and then I did the same to you. Kinda. It was a tree branch, but it still counts. Why would you help me? If they had finished the job then you’d have a much easier life here. You wouldn’t have to avoid me and constantly worry about Thor breaking your face whenever I throw a fit. You could skulk around at night or on the roof without running into me. I’m just in your way.”

A muscle in Loki’s jaw ticked at my words, but he didn’t say anything he as considered them. The silence was almost more painful than the hole in my shoulder. I idly reached up to scratch at the bandage and his hand reached up and slapped it away.

He frowned at me. “I need to redress that as well. Leave it be.”

The silence stretched on as he organized the supplies he’d need in front of him and then tugged the hem of my large hospital gown down my arm to expose my shoulder and better access the bullet wound. His spindly fingers were quick and efficient in their work of removing the bandage, cleansing the wound, and then replacing the dressings with clean ones. His steady touch coming and going from my bare skin sent my heart skittering in my chest. I didn’t allow myself to wonder why it was invoking that reaction in me, but I did allow for the luxury of watching him unnoticed.

I'd never taken the time to actually see the man tending to my wounds. Taking the time to really inspect him, I was surprised to find that he was very easy to look at. His skin was unblemished and smooth, no hint of age showing on it except for the wrinkles that appeared as he furrowed his brow or squinted his eyes to get a better look at his task. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, and I trailed my eyes downward to the small amount of pale chest that his unbuttoned collar revealed, not a single hair to be seen. His shirt didn't hide the lean muscles that rippled beneath his skin as he worked, and some strange part of me wondered what they would feel like if I reached out and closed the distance between us. For lack of a better, more eloquent word, he was beautiful. As if sculpted by the very gods that he proclaimed himself to be. His beauty was more delicate compared to the rugged masculinity of the men of the Avengers that I was used to associating with, but that didn't make it any less lovely to behold. Just different.

I pulled my wandering eyes back up to his, a blush betraying me and heating up my skin when I found that he had been watching me look at him. The intensity of his gaze knocked me back to my senses, and I quickly looked down at my hands as they twisted around themselves. He didn't say anything, however, keeping up the silence until he was finished and throwing away the soiled bandages in the trash across the room. With his overwhelming presence gone and his large hands off my skin, I felt the tension I had unknowingly been holding in my clenched muscles ease away and my mind clear a little more. Loki paused in front of the door with his back to me, one hand resting on the windowsill beside the door.

“One thing I’ve only recently learned from my brother is to never leave a warrior behind. Especially not one of such caliber.” He took a deep breath, his shoulders heaving with the movement. “And I’m not willing to lose anyone else.”

And then he was gone, leaving behind my favorite blood-stained rock on the windowsill.

[im-not-a-writer]

Jacob Frye x Reader ~ CHAPTER 5

~~Here we are my dears! Thank you for all the constant support it really means a lot! Now I don’t want to give too much away but the next few chapters aren’t going to be as fluffy and sweet just saying lol... sorry not sorry! Anyways as always if you want to be added to the taglist then please shoot me a dm! Thank you and enjoy~~

Your breath billowed out in front of you like a puff of smoke and a bitter breeze nipped at your exposed shoulders making you shiver and bring your shawl closer to you. The carriage that dropped you off rolled away to leave you standing alone on a street filled with eager party goers, dandy lads and ladies dressed in their finest all holding each others arms and smiling at each others presence. You started walking, joining the crowd, the soft sound of your heels clicking melting into the conglomerate of monotonous murmuring and soft giggling from party goers. You stepped and stared forward to admire the the estate; the gas lamps were alive with bright flames casting a soft orange glow across the courtyard and the flower beds had a thin sheet of snow draping across them reminding you of the chill in the air. An arm slid through yours and pulled you closer causing a bit of warmth to spread through your right side. The man at your side stepped in time with you, smiling and leaning closer mimicking the happy go lucky attitude of the people around you.

“You look lovely tonight darling,” Jacob whispered down at you, his smirk almost audible.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you smiled softly back, trying not to seem like you were enjoying yourself too much as it wasn’t becoming of a lady.

His suit fitted him perfectly, turning the mischievous assassin into a dashing nobleman, it almost fooled you. You looked down at yourself and smirked at Evie’s handiwork. She chose a dark royal blue gown with champagne accents, white ruffles, and a shawl to match. The corset hugged close to your waist limiting your movements and yet the skirt provided ample room to hide the blade you had strapped to your upper thigh. Confidence surged through you unexpectedly as you strolled your way towards the entrance, wearing such a gown was a completely new experience and if you were being entirely honest you sort of enjoyed the glaces and the stares, and more importantly the attention you were getting from Jacob.

“You know the plan?” He whispered into your ear and you giggled as if he was saying some flirty bit of small talk.

“Of course. The target is Lord Clarke, best course of action is to lure him to his drawing room, kill him, take the documents, and hide his body in the maids closet.” You giggled softly and leaned closer to him, covering your words with your actions.

He slipped your invitation into your right hand and smirked when he felt the sharp edge of your hidden blade from under your shawl. He pulled you closer and whispered into your ear, warm breath tickling your cheek making you blush deep red. “You really do look ravishing tonight love and quite dangerous as well,” his voice dropped to a husky whisper only to be cut off by an inpatient doorman.

“Your invitations sir? Madam?” The doorman stared down at the both of you and you handed him your invitation with a smile and waited for Jacob to hand over his as well. “Enjoy the ball,”

You entered the estate and warmth overtook you immediately, well dressed lords and dames gossiped and chatted while waiters danced around the room holding out trays of food and drink only to be heavily ignored by the nobility in the room. The man holding your arm grabbed a glass of champagne and took a sip before tilting his head towards the center of the room.

“Do you see him?” He mumbled and you stared into the crowd.

Your eyes scanned the crowd before they caught the Lord Clarke, standing in the middle of a crowd of easily impressed men and women wearing a snow white suit with a matching top hat, he looked to be preaching about something concerning his massive wealth or his social standing and the onlookers ate it up greedily.

“Bloke in the white suit on a soapbox? How could I miss him,” You smiled and pulled a blue paper fan out from your cleavage.

“What the.. You can fit that in there!?” Jacob turned to you, shocked, breaking his character out of pure curiosity.

You giggled and hit him playfully on the shoulder before releasing his arm and unfolding the fan with a flick of your wrist, “Does it look like I have pockets in this thing? And besides, I’m full of surprises darling,” You winked and sauntered off towards your target.

Every step you took was carefully calculated to create the perfect lady persona, more importantly, the perfect single lady persona. You fanned yourself slowly, careful to keep your blade arm as concealed as possible behind your shawl, from behind the fan you could see the lord had already taken interest in you; his blue eyes caught yours and he was quick to throw a smirk your way and break from the crowd. The ladies waiting on his every breath in his little audience all shot you quick glares of annoyance and huffed, prancing away to find something else to gawk at. As he started approaching you felt your pulse quicken, your entire mission was dependent on your ability to gain the lords interest and convince him to take you upstairs.... In short you had to seduce the man… while your lover watched.

“Good evening my dear, are you enjoying yourself?” He smiled brightly at you and you brought the fan low near your lips.

“Why, yes of course my lord, the ball is absolutely lovely,” You smiled back sweetly, fluttering your eyelashes.

The lord was no doubt handsome and he knew it, dark ash blonde hair peeking from his top hat and bright oceanic blue eyes lighting up the ball room. He was taller than Jacob, slim but healthy build, and he had a smile so bright it could melt a thousand candle sticks. In all honesty you were quite pleased that this was the man you had to seduce and not some pot-bellied politician with a preference for younger women and dark liquors.

“My lady I notice, you are all alone, now how might the most beautiful woman here manage that?” He sauntered closer and spoke with the utmost confidence, “Why I do say it’s a crime for you to be alone while all these other ladies have arms to hold,”

You giggled lightly and fanned yourself a bit faster, tilting your head you leaned in a bit closer, “My lord if you’re able to keep a secret..,” He leaned down to your level and you were able to get close to his ear, “I do hate crowds, and I must say…” Your right arm rested on his, a dangerous move considering your hidden blade was just an inch or so from his skin, any wrong move and the entire mission would be a complete failure, “You are something the other men here simply are not… you are completely irresistible my lord,”

Jacob sat and watched the entire thing, he told himself it was so he could see how you were completing the mission but God knows he was watching to make sure that pompous little beanstalk didn’t lay a hand on you. He watched carefully, eyeing the way you fanned yourself, the way you tilted your head back ever so slightly as to show off your slender neck, your hand resting on his arm. He knew that he could be off gathering intel or finding some interesting item to pocket but he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene in front of him. That should be him, your hand on his arm, whispering oh so close to his ear, temptation practically dripping from the entire conversation. Jacob sipped his champagne and dusted on a fake smile but he was fighting back the urge to throw the Lord Clarke aside and claim your lips right there in front of the entire party, to let everyone know that you were his and he was yours.

“Come my dear, let’s get you away from this crowd, you look practically overwhelmed,” Lord Clarke smiled down at you and allowed one of his hands to rest on your waist while the other one took your hand lightly.

You smiled up at him and nodded slightly, “Lead the way my lord.”

The second his hand touched your waist Jacob knew he couldn’t bear to watch any further, the lord was approaching a line he dared not cross or there would be hell to pay. ‘Well, at least he’s dying soon,’ Jacob thought to himself before strolling out of the main ballroom and finding a more quiet room for him to snoop around in while you did the real work upstairs.

Lord Clarke walked slowly with you, giving you ample time to assess your surroundings and finalize your plan in your mind all while maintaining your mindless and desperate lady persona. The halls were surprisingly dark minus a few lamps here or there and the lord started to pull you closer, his hand reaching around farther and starting to drop lower than just your waist. There were large paintings on the walls, tapestries and statues lined the corridor, all paid for by the efforts of child labor.

“Right this way my lady,” He lead you to the right, allowing you to enter his drawing room before you so you could admire the decor, and so he could lock the door behind him.

The room was dark, the only light was from a gas lamp outside on the street and the moon, big and bright shining through the thin curtains and casting a silver glow across the floor. You knew he had locked the door and yet you stayed perfectly calm, this was all going according to plan. He started to walk closer and you continued to pretend that you were still admiring the paintings and the hand-carved desk. His wandering hands held onto your hips and brought you back to his chest.

“Now darling, completely alone, do you feel better?” The lust dripped from his voice and you fought back the urge to gag.

“Much,” you leaned back into his chest and allowed his hands to travel. “Why don’t we get more comfortable my lord,”

You pulled away from him and sauntered over to his desk, running your hand over the dark wood, a smirk etched onto your face. He seemed to catch your drift because in a mere second he was back with you, his hands on your waist, lifting you up to sit on his desk. You brought your hand down and started lifting up your skirts and he eagerly began running his hands over your legs, one started to travel dangerously high and you fought against every urge telling you to stab him now and get it over with, you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his face towards your neck.

“Do not tease me my lord,” You said in a husky whisper.

Lord Clarke eagerly took the hint and practically attacked your neck with his mouth, eager, sloppy kisses plagued your exposed flesh while his hand worked up dangerously high on your right thigh before it stopped. It all stopped. He pulled away from you and his hand rested on the cool blade of the dagger you had strapped to your thigh.

“What the hell?” He looked up at you and you smiled sweetly before flicking your wrist and sending your blade straight into his chest.

Swiftly you caught his body and laid him down on the ground, ready for the first real exchange of words for the night.

“You… you bloody assassins… can’t a man have a little fun,” He coughed and clutched at his chest.

“You had your fair share of fun, taking money from innocent children, throwing massive balls to distract from your thievery, putting your grubby hands on every woman who is stupid enough to talk to you, oh I do say, you have had loads of fun.” You smiled and watched as life slowly started to drain from his eyes. A rose of blood started to blossom through his white suit.

“Those children would starve if I didn’t give them a place to work, they would be on the streets playing in the filth until they die in it,” He spat, holding his wound tightly.

“Beating them, keeping them working until their limbs almost fall off, not allowing them to go home until they’ve finished work, and then taking away over half their piss poor wages… aren’t you just a good samaritan.” You shook your head and watched as the final bit of light drained from his eyes. He let out a final breath and that was all, the lord was finished. “Rest in peace…bastard” You sighed and took out a white cloth from your breasts and dragged it swiftly over the pool of blood on his chest before standing and wiping your blade clean as to not get any blood on your shawl.

You dragged the lord to the maids closet and shut the door before returning to his desk. You eyed the furniture and sighed when you realized it was ultimately drawerless, you almost forgot it entirely till you noticed two small hinges hidden under the lip of the desk. Smiling to yourself you flicked out your blade and shoved it under the lip, prying open the locked secret compartment. Nestled inside were a stack of papers, all signed by lord Clarke and ready for delivery. Swiftly you folded up the papers, shoved them down your cleavage and made your way downstairs to find Jacob.

You descended the stairs and melted into the crowd of people that were waiting for lord Clarke’s return, eagerly watching the staircase for any sign of the white clad man and his dazzling smile. You scanned the crowd but couldn’t find Jacob anywhere. You broke away from the crowd and entered a smaller room, a few party goers sat and sipped drinks and gossiped in front of a wooden folding screen that divided the room in half. You sighed and stepped swiftly behind the screen trying to think of where Jacob might be before nearly stepping on him.

The dark haired assassin was looting through a chest and perked up when you walked behind him. “There you are! You had me worried,” He stood up and smiled at you, taking your hands in his.

You smiled back and shivered as you could still feel lord Clarkes wandering hands on your body. “It’s done and I have the papers,” You patted your breasts and Jacob gawked back at you.

“You’re telling me they’re in there?!” He stammered with his mouth agape and eyes wide; he looked like a fish gasping for water.

It wasn’t long before he noticed how red the side of your neck was. It was obvious what had happened and he wasn’t thrilled.

“Is everything alright? He didn’t touch you did he?” His tone turned deathly serious and you shrugged it off.

“It was nothing, he did a number here though,” You sighed and rubbed your sore neck and Jacob growled and placed his hand over the red skin.

“He is so lucky that he’s dead or I would rip him apart.” He snarled.

You chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, relishing in the feeling for a brief second. “Come on let’s get out of here,” You took his arm and you left briskly, walking in time with each other and bidding the doorman a good night.

The chill of the night met your skin again and you pulled yourself closer to Jacob trying to steal all of his warmth for yourself, to this he chuckled and put his arm around your shoulder and continued escorting you to an empty carriage down the street. He didn’t bother with the driver instead he simply pulled the man from his seat and took his place as driver, waiting for you to enter the carriage and sit down. The older man exclaimed loudly, stumbling as he was thrown from his seat but the sound of hooves and the rolling of the carriage wheels drowned out his shouts.

In the solidarity of the carriage you could finally breathe, your mind was swimming with the events of the night; the mission, the party, the dress, and that dirty fool of a lord. You could feel his breath on your neck and his hand slithering up your gown, of course the mission had gone perfectly but you didn’t feel quite as happy as you should have. A part of you felt like you should have killed the bastard before you let him touch you but there was no telling how that could have gone, no…. You did the right thing.

The second you entered your flat you started ripping your dress off, your fingers flying to untie the corset only to be pulled away and replaced with Jacobs.

“Calm down darling, let me help you,” He chuckled and you sighed, allowing him to make quick work of the corset strings.

Once you were finally released from your fabric prison you grabbed a baggy white shirt that may or not be Jacob’s, you couldn’t care less, and you made your way upstairs to your bed where he was already laying down reading the documents you took. He looked at you and grinned happily.

“Is that my shirt?” He questioned.

“Probably,” You smiled and climbed over him to lay down on the other side of the bed. You rested your head on his chest and sighed.

Jacob put the documents on the floor and wrapped his arms around you, “Tell me what happened,”

And so you did. You told him everything and although he was astonished with how you completed the mission so well and he was just as upset as you were. “You did what you had to do… you did a good job,”

“You know, you’re the only man that’s ever touched me..” You sighed and listened to his heart beat.

      “Is that so?” Jacob smirked and pressed a kiss to your lips and you lifted yourself up to hover over him. “I can’t blame the bastard though, you looked absolutely amazing in that gown,” He smirked and you scoffed in return.

You sat up entirely and captured his lips, your hands moved up to hold his and you started positioning yourself to straddle his hips. You leaned down and continued to kiss him, lips moving in harmony before you pushed farther, getting more and more eager with every second. He tried to move his hands but you were holding him down sternly, holding his wrists near his head, not allowing him what he wanted so desperately. Slowly you left his lips leaving him gasping and you started to move your kisses further south, stopping to nip and suck at his exposed neck, smiling against his skin as he let out a deep moan.

“My aren’t you an eager one?” He exclaimed after catching himself moan.

You smirked in reply and you shifted your weight a bit, receiving another deep moan as a reward, “You’re the only man that’s ever touched me love, being so close to another man… I missed you” You giggled and continued off where you were on his neck.

“Oh darling…” he let out a pleasured sigh as you found a sweet spot on his neck. “I missed you too.”

He finally broke free from your grip and his hands flew to your body, one resting on your hip the other tangling itself in your hair, he brought your face back up to his and your lips collided in a passionate dance. Jacob started to sit up, your legs wrapped around his waist and his arms wrapped around your middle bringing you flush to his chest. One of his hands started to snake up your shirt, resting on your bear back and you rested your hands on his chest, your fingers running over his exposed crow tattoo.

“So is this how our evening is going to go?” He pulled away and tilted his head, a cheeky grin on his face.

“I think so,” You smiled and giggled softy.

“Sounds good to me dear,” A wild fire was lit behind his hazel eyes but you stopped him in his tracks.

You smirked devilishly and tugged on his trousers. “You’re not going to need these,”

~~Taglist: 

@littlewhitefairy7777 @temerey @talesfromassassiansguardian @eliffromthebrotherhood @i-am-totes-sherlocked @icarrotcake @seapandaftw @pwedatorpanda @comic-freak @nunalula

[themalicealyce]

Sarcasm and Puns: Chapter Four

Summary: You're an introverted person, have been all of your life but it wasn't as if you were shy, you were just content to have your only friends be your brother and your roommate. Though when your brother's young daughter makes friends with the human ambassador of monsters you open up to the idea of having a larger group of friends.

Rating: M 

Waking up late on a Saturday was probably one of the most beautiful feelings you could think of. The sheer number of weekdays you had to lay in bed trying to gather the motivation needed to get dressed and go to work was getting kind of sad, so the few extra hours of sleep you got on your days off was a luxury you never skipped out on. It was sometime in the early afternoon and the sun had started to warm the room. The mild heat seeped through the window, rousing you from slumber. Golden light flooded into the dark room in columns, specks of dust floated and danced suspended in the beams. Not quite fully awake and exceedingly comfortable you wanted to roll over and sleep just a little longer, though the tiny little paw that landed on your face seemed to disagree. Hemlock mewed and stood on you, now with both front paws on your face and his hind legs on your collarbone. You groaned tiredly at him and he mewled back in pseudo conversation. You guessed it was feeding time and your stomach rumbled in sympathy at the thought of food. You found yourself hungry enough to drag yourself out of bed regardless of the tempting warmth of your blankets, so still in your fluffy pajama pants and an over-sized t-shirt you stumbled out of your room.

As soon as your door opened, Hemlock took off like a bullet to where you assumed your roommate had filled his food bowl. With your hair a mess and mismatched socks lazily pulled on you found your way to the living room which had been restored to its normal halfway presentable state. Your yawn stretched out for so long that your ribs hurt as you rubbed sleep out of your eyes. You looked around and saw Vincent already awake and wrapped up like a burrito in his blanket with an overfull plate of microwaved pizza rolls. The sofa was plush, and a homey olive-green color complemented by his bright purple blanket that he was snuggled into so deeply that you would have to use a crowbar to pry him out it.

"Mornin'" You grumbled, mouth dry from sleep, not ready for full sentences yet. Slinking past him on your way to the kitchen.

"Good morning!" He sung, his eyes briefly leaving the tv screen flicking up at you before shoving more food in his face. "If you say so." You replied lazily, bones cracking pleasantly as you paused to stretch before continuing on your way.

Shuffling out of the room, you went into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl out of the cabinet, letting it clatter on the counter. You abandoned it to shuffle over to the pantry to get your cereal. You chuckled slightly as poured your bowl nearly full to the brim of Captain Crunch, amused at the knowledge that your grocery list and eating habits haven't really changed much since college. Crossing the kitchen, you opened the refrigerator, the dim light bulb inside clicking on and bathing you in florescent light as you heard your friend moving around from behind you.

"Why is the fridge full of girl scout cookies and rum?" You asked the room flatly, the fact that this kind of behavior is losing its ability to shock you probably meant something, but you decided not to open that can of worms today.

"I went shopping." he shrugged as if it was obvious as he stood in the doorway, having abandoned his blanket and carrying his now empty plate.

"I'm not even mad, when I get home from dinner wanna crack one of these open?" You asked grabbing the milk, having to Jenga it out of the fridge around the new items.

"Oh, hell yes! Pick up soda for rum and cokes on the way back?"

You nodded as you poured the milk into your cereal and Vincent put his plate in the sink with a careless clatter, quickly returning back to his nest of blankets on the couch.

When you remembered the dinner that you had at Toriel's tonight, you suddenly remembered Gabriel had of course signed you up to bring cookies. You rolled your eyes at the memory. Oh well, you figured it gave you a chance to bake which you hardly ever did. "You want to help me make cookies?" you asked immediately hearing the excited consent from the other room.

His easy enthusiasm made you smile as you brought your late breakfast into the living room, shooing him to his own side of the sofa as you ate and pulled out your 3DS, flicking on a puzzle game you’d gotten ridiculously obsessed with. One section had been really breaking your brain and you really wanted to get past it. You managed some progress over the hour or so, but you had once again become hopelessly stuck. You growled at the game in irritation. You loved puzzles, but maze sections were the worst.

Switching off the game soon after your lazy breakfast, you decided you needed to get started baking so you could get ready to go to this dinner thing since it was already getting a bit late. Eager to be of some help in the kitchen, especially with the promise of cookies, Vincent agreed to do your prep work. He was about five feet of pure, concentrated energy flitting around the kitchen setting it up for you while you looked through your stuff for your mom’s chocolate chip cookie recipe.

“Found it!” You smiled, holding it aloft like a Zelda treasure chest item.

“FUCK! I remember those. Why don’t you ever make those?!” Vincent asked incredulously, snatching the paper from your hands, scanning the list of ingredients.

“First of all, you have to stop snatching shit out of my hands you brat. Secondly, I’m not my mom I’m not here to bake your cookies and pinch your cheeks.” You rolled your eyes taking the paper back from him. “Ugh, then what good are you?” he teased back playfully.

“Well, with me around you can get drunk and cuss and I don’t nag you about bedtimes.” You answered back automatically as you preheated the oven. You looked over to him “You going to actually help or…?” you asked. He nodded eagerly.

Once you started baking you realized Vincent wanted to help by trying to incorporate Mettaton style cooking flourishes to your dish and it became a harder task to keep him focused instead of dancing around posing for a nonexistent camera. You had to snatch the glitter out of his hand as he tried to sneak it into your dough.

“But it’ll make it all pretty!” He whined.

“This is craft glitter! It’s not even edible glitter you heathen!” You argued back putting the bottle on top of the fridge and out of reach of his short arms. He huffed but got over it quickly when you let him eat some of the uncooked dough.

You didn't bake often, or cook really for that matter, but when you did you liked to do so from scratch and every time you left the counters gritty, dusted in a fine mixture of flour and sugar. Vincent didn’t help matters either, when he helped he turned things from messy to a disaster. This time was no different. He now sat on the one countertop by the sink you didn't bother to use, holding a cookie in between his hands looking extremely proud of himself as if surveying the damage that he caused. Still, the cookies turned out great, and he managed to arrange them on a platter without eating them all, so you’d take the nightmare mess in stride. His legs dangled over the edge, nowhere near reaching the floor, making him look even shorter and younger than normal.

Now that you were done you checked your phone. The time had snuck up on you. It was close to the time to go, and the reality of the situation was starting to dawn on you. You have never really gone to a dinner party before, and you were starting to feel like a high schooler meeting a boyfriend's family for the first time. It wasn't like you had experienced that a lot as a teenager, but you still remember the nervous mess you became when trying to impress someone. Frowning down at your dirtied pajamas, your nose scrunched up and you groaned starting to feel tendrils of panic rising.

"What do you even wear to a dinner like this?" You asked more to yourself than Vincent tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Yes, ask the guy who has a panic attack when he has to order in a restaurant about what to do in social situations." He rolled his eyes at you wiping crumbs off his jeans.

"Well aren't you helpful?" You sighed.

"Just throw something somewhat decent together I guess. I don't know." He shrugged.

"And here I was planning on lingerie and a t shirt proclaiming my satanic intentions." You sarcastically intoned.

"Hot. Which I guess works out for you since it's so chilly out!" He couldn't keep the silly little smile he got when he told a bad joke off his face. "Nope, nope if you're going to start with that I'm out. Imma go get dressed." You waved your arms at him in an overly exaggerated manner fleeing the room turning back and pointed an accusing finger at him. "And don't eat all the cookies while I'm gone." "Oh come on, that would be a real CRUMBY thing to do!" He had started to giggle at his own bad pun. "Bad! Bad Vincent. No!" You scolded as you left, retreating to your room.

You could hear Vincent laughing to himself and shuffling around the kitchen all the way back into your bedroom. Once you were there you put your phone down and flung open your closet door to find it mostly full of jeans and work shirts like you expected. You didn't think it was formal enough occasion to wear any of the clothes you wear to work and your t shirts seemed too casual. You sighed and glared at the clothes as if it were their fault you were under prepared for this situation. Pushing through your clothes in search of something you wouldn't feel too awkward wearing you knew you had to have something stored away that would useful.

Lost in deep thought you jumped away from your closet nearly falling on your ass when a loud sound blared suddenly. Quickly you recognized the noise breaking the quiet as the Tardis landing sound from Doctor Who. For a moment you were very confused until you noticed the noise that was playing out of your phone from the nightstand was your brother's ringtone. Taking a moment to be slightly disappointed that David Tennant wasn't here to take you away you answered your phone, propping it up in between your shoulder and ear as you went back to searching through your clothes.

"So are you still planning on coming or are you going to hide and try to will this away because I will pick your lock." Gabriel asked when you picked up your phone, not even bothering to say hello.

You rolled your eyes, you could hear his smirk over the phone. "You have a key you know."

"Yeah, but that is not nearly as fun." He sing-songed.

"So how is Morrigan handling the situation?" You asked, quick to change the subject and hoping that he didn't actually latch on to the idea of trying to pick your lock, you really didn’t want to have that conversation with your landlord.

"She has been throwing nearly her entire wardrobe around her room trying to pick out an outfit. And of course, she doesn't want my help. I didn't even realize she owned so many dresses." Gabriel chuckled, clearly amused by his daughter's antics.

"Yeah, who would have thought that you of all people would raise a messy kid." your toned dripped with sarcasm thinking back on how you two must have made your mom's life a nightmare when you were little.

"Hey, she's better than me when it comes to cleaning her room, it's starting to make me look bad." He admitted.

"You don't need anyone's help to make you look bad." You retorted as you dug deeper in your closet unearthing the very few dresses you owned stuffed in the back you scanned them, picking out a sweater dress that went down to just above your knees, it was warm, soft, and medium grey color. "Aha!" you called out triumphantly as you pulled it off the hanger.

"What are you 'aha'ing at? Finally beat that puzzle game you've been sucking at?" Gabriel asked teasingly.

You groaned suddenly remembering that hard maze puzzle you were stuck on in your game. "You dick, now that's going to bug me all night!"

You could hear him laughing loudly over the phone as you shut your closet, causing you to glare harder as if he was there to see how annoyed you were at him. When Gabriel calmed down you shared a quick conversation about when he would pick you up and you hung up so you could get ready.

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Cleaning Up

It was his turn to clean up after the duel, though he knew there wasn’t much for him to clean up at all. There never was in small scale battles like this.

The fool did try. Skull Bishop headed over to where the last remains of that foolish human rested. The terror-filled cries of his companion could still be heard as he fled away. Skull Bishop wondered if he could persuade Haou-sama into letting him go after the coward.

He said that he didn’t need warriors who aren’t willing to fight, and this one is quite the coward. At least the one with the crocodile gathered up enough courage in the end. Skull Bishop didn’t believe that they’d see the other one again.

He had other duties to deal with regardless. He scooped up the defeated fighter’s Duel Disk and examined it.

He’d never seen one like this before. Very few Duel Disks he knew of had been modified, especially not those of common soldiers. Had that fool believed himself special?

Skull Bishop took the deck out and fanned it before him. Part of serving Haou-sama involved checking the decks of the defeated for certain cards. Haou-sama had been quite clear: any deck that carried Gem Beast cards needed to be brought to him at once, along with anyone who might possess any relevant information.

But this one didn’t have anything of that sort. An earth based deck, with cards that seemed unique to the duelist. Skull Bishop sorted through them curiously. He’d not seen some of them anywhere before.

He seemed to be under the impression that he knew Haou-sama.

Skull Bishop knew quite well that Yuuki Juudai was Haou-sama’s true name. He’d never hidden it; he simply chose not to use it. To put the past behind him so he could move forward to the glorious future of ruling the world.

But these two warriors – one warrior and a coward – at least seemed to believe that Haou-sama was their friend.

He might have been, once. But he is our king now.

The rule was to throw a useless deck and duel disk into the lava. To do otherwise meant a use was imagined for the cards. He tucked the deck back into the duel disk and turned to the other item that rested on the bridge: a backpack.

That one he picked up and pawed through thoroughly. There wasn’t much in it: a few sealed items of food that he tossed into the lava – it wouldn’t be needed at all. A few odds and ends of clothing. Those would be kept and recycled for future use. A few other bits and pieces that he kept. Those could be researched and examined to see if they were worth keeping or if they should also be disposed of.

There seemed to be little else there. The earth duelist had traveled light, or he’d used up all of his supplies before coming to stand against Haou.

If they were friends and came from a world where dueling is but a game… why did they come here at all?

Skull Bishop had heard about Haou-sama’s duel against Brron. He’d not been part of Brron’s forces, joining Haou-sama some time after he’d gathered his army. But rumors that he heard whispered of a child who searched for a lost friend and who unleashed the darkest of hells upon Brron once he learned that the one he searched for had perished.

Perhaps I should ask Haou-sama. He considered that for a few moments for he snorted and started back inside the castle. He knew better than that. Haou-sama didn’t like to speak of his past.

After that little encounter with Gold and Silver, Skull Bishop didn’t think that Haou-sama would even want to speak of what had come before. They had been quite massive fools, daring to mock his goals.

They may have been loyal servants to Brron, but they mean nothing to Haou-sama. They’d mentioned something about having brought captured folk to Brron and those words alone enraged Haou-sama to the point he hadn’t even bothered to duel them. With his own hands he’d rendered them down to raw dust.

Whether they became part of Super Fusion or not, Skull Bishop truly didn’t know. Haou-sama hadn’t ever spoken of it. The dust blew on the wind and Skull Bishop had never seen able to see souls.

He took the Duel Disk and backpack to his own quarters, tossing them into a small storage closet. If Haou-sama ever wanted something to remember his fallen former comrade, then Skull Bishop could provide. And should he not, then there were plenty of bazaars and markets which provided places to sell and trade cards.

It would not at all be the first time that he’d traded a defeated duelist’s deck for cards he could use or other items he’d wanted. He had a small stash of precious gems that he’d traded for. There were those who wanted nothing to do with cards but would do everything within their power for gems or gold.

I wonder if I should track down that coward and see if there’s anything in his deck that could be useful to me. Such a thought brought a smile to his lips. He might not have time to do this just yet – the great festival of the darkest time of the year would be soon – but once that passed, then matters would be different.

The dark time festival would also be a good time to gently bring up the concept of giving this deck over to Haou-sama. Gifts were an important part of the festival and he could question his liege cautiously on what might be a suitable gift.

Should it not be, then he would have time to find another. He could make an early trip to one of his favored trading villages and see what he could acquire there.

What did one get for the conqueror who needed nothing but greater bloodshed?

The End

Notes: My original idea for this was to have Jim's duel disk and backpack get tossed into the lava. Probably what happened anyway, really. Also, if you want to see this as a prelude to Haou's Holiday, I don't object.

[takeapenandwrite]

The Hot Day

Outside, the summer sun is shining, the trees in the alley casting only small shadows right beneath them. Noon. The day is hot and growing hotter still with every passing minute. Only later in the afternoon, at four or five, will the temperature sink as the shadows grow longer. And then, when the sun finally disappears behind the horizon, the cool night will arrive. Windows will be opened, welcoming in the breeze – and the not so welcomed insects accompanying it – and groups of friends will gather in the gardens, chatting till the stars appear and disappear again. But at the moment, the sun is still at its highest. Whoever can, stays inside, in the relative coolness of buildings.

His steps are too loud in the empty hallways. Each time his foot touches the ground, the sound seems to spread, from classroom to classroom, each as empty and silent as the hallway. He feels like an intruder. Schools are made to be empty and silent during summer vacation. Nobody is to smell the dust and hear he silence before the doors open to let in hordes of children at the beginning of August. Only then the trampling of hundreds of shoes, the cries and laughter of all these mouths should be heard.

Hands in his pockets, he strolls through the empty school. Feigning nonchalance even as a certain tension is keeping him on edge. Listening for the cries and the chatter he can’t prevent himself from connecting with this building.

Inside, it is indeed cooler than under the blinding sun. But still, a group of boys are riding their bicycles, heading down the road from the monumental building at the end of it. They have towels with them, hung over a shoulder or around the neck. Sweat coats their faces as they race each other down the gravel road. Along the road, fields of golden wheat, tall corn and proud sunflowers line up. At last the youths arrive, shoving their bikes away and running for the glinting surface of the lake. Laughter and splashing are soon heard.

After the refreshing break they mount their bicycles again and start the journey home. It is now around three in the afternoon, the hottest time of the day. In spite of the cool water, the boys are drained. No more racing each other. Some lag behind, panting. The energy from earlier is gone.

He opens some doors; looks into rooms he hasn’t seen in ages. Memories flood his mind. The benches fill with children, the blackboards fill with chalk writing of the teachers standing in front of them, trying to get the writing into the head of the children. The feeling of being old seeps into him. This world is so far from his life of today, his home, his work. But still, the memories are vivid. In a room used for geography, he sits down. Listens to the silence. Looking at the maps, he remembers what it was like, learning the exotic names of far away places. Reading about the big world. Back then, it hadn’t felt real. The world was the school, his group of friends, the fields outside. All those names and pictures were just a fantasy, some other magical story to listen to. Even his world of friends and fields and a big, dark building had somehow just been a story. They had been untouchable back then. Until the Hot Day. Sitting on the old bench, looking at these mystical spots on the map, he sighs, thinking about the day they realized life was anything but a story. The day life suddenly – brutally – became real, and they touchable.

By the time they are back at the school, they are drenched in sweat again. Some complain about headaches, all are breathing heavily and licking their lips. They didn’t think about bringing something to drink when they left. When they enter the cool school, they take a deep breath. Soon, tea will be served, everybody gathering in the shadow of the great oaks in the park. Something to drink. At this thought, new energy surges into the boys. They start chasing each other again, hiding in corners and behind columns to jump out and scare the others.

One of the boys, the youngest of the group, not really part of it yet, walks ahead. To prove himself, he wants to scare the elder boys so well that they’ll surely be impressed. There, an inconspicuous door. It looks like a storeroom. Perfect.

He is standing in the park, in the shadow of the great oaks. Here, the best tea he’s ever had used to be served. He wonders if the students today still get tea, and if they appreciate this daily break as much as he used to. It is the first time he’s come back here since the Hot Day. They had all left the school after that day. His parents thought it too dangerous, he was relived not having to see these halls – that door – again. A few years after he had left, he “went to see someone”. He had wanted to. To talk to somebody about it. His parents hadn’t been of any use, avoiding the topic as much as possible. “Best to forget about it.” He hadn’t seen his friends anymore either.

Inside, it is dark. Not completely dark, though. There is a small window in the upper left corner, which lets in a thin ray of sunlight. After some time, his eyes adjust. The storeroom is quite stuffy. Shelves take up the little room there is, various bottles and bags filling them. In the hallway, it was cool, a nice breeze coming through the open windows. In the closet, it is warm. Not hot, but still quite warm. The boy looks around, thinking about the nice tea in the shadow of the oaks, about his older friends. He finally decides to stay. It is only for a short time after all. He settles, ear close to the door, and listens for the other boys.

When he finally hears them, they have already passed. He knows, because he first heard a thump, and then fast steps. His friends are gone. Disappointed by this missed chance, and with a dry mouth, craving for the tea in the shadow of the oaks, he opens the door. Tries again. Pushes harder. Throws himself against it. The door doesn’t budge. It stays shut. Something must have blocked it when the others ran past it – the thump.

Despair fills the little boy’s chest, threatens to spill over as tears. It doesn’t help to bang on the door, to scream for help. Everybody is outside, drinking and eating. The thought of drinking brings his headache back, forgotten for a moment during the excitement of the games. Something is in his head, fighting to get out. All the while, his mouth feels drier and drier.

After a while which feels like hours, he can’t endure it any longer. The different bottles on the shelves have already caught his eye a long time ago. Surely, there must be something to drink in at least one of them. In the dimly lit room, he can see enough to pick a clear glass bottle with a transparent liquid in it. The cap is quickly unscrewed, and after a suspicious sniff, he takes a little sip. Not water. But from the sweet taste of it, it must be some sort of syrup. He hesitates, but then can’t resist.

It had taken some time of drinking and eating until they had noticed the little one was missing. As there were always so many people at tea – the whole school gathered – it was hard to keep count. He remembers the supressed panic of the adults, the shouts in the empty school. The closed door blocked by a broom he had seen. The small body lying on the floor he had found. The empty bottle next to it.

It is not so bad when they find him. The boy is mostly dehydrated, nothing that can’t be cured with some water and rest. But then, it starts getting bad. Worse.

It wasn’t syrup.

Note: the toxic liquid here is ethylene glycol, found in antifreeze. It tastes sweet, and can be deadly. Don’t ask me anything about it, I didn’t really inform myself, just googled ‘transparent liquid poison’ ;-)