#light voice and what if the world was made of pudding

[kiyomitakada]

[ID: Sketch of L and Light from Death Note working together at a table. L says, "what if a lactating person is locked in a room with a dog indefinitely? should they let the dog starve?" Light looks away in annoyance and responds, "Who are you people." End ID]

[0omillo0]

BIKER LEE KNOW

x reader <3 angst —> comfort/happy ending

everyone warned you about him, how he plays with girls and then leaves… you don’t believe them, until…

The clock ticked quietly in your room, the only sound breaking the heavy silence. Rain pattered steadily against your window, mimicking the slow tears that streaked down your face. You clutched your phone tightly in your hands, scrolling through old messages, trying to reconcile the sweet, caring Minho you’d been dating with the cold, distant person he’d become over the past week.

You couldn’t help but smile as you thought of the day he took you to the diner on his motorcycle. The ride had been exhilarating, the city’s lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of color as you held tightly to him, feeling the comforting warmth of his back against your chest.

When you reached the diner, Minho had insisted on ordering three servings of pudding.

“You’re unbelievable,” you teased, watching as he tucked into the first one with childlike enthusiasm.

“Don’t act like you’re not impressed,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He leaned closer, spoon in hand, and offered you a bite. “C’mon, taste perfection.”

The way he watched you eat—like you were the most fascinating person in the world—made your heart flutter. Afterward, he’d noticed your hair was windblown from the ride and gently brushed it back into place.

“These moments… they make me feel alive,” he murmured, almost to himself…

But that Minho had vanished. It started with him being quieter during your calls, then came the short, clipped replies to your texts, and eventually, nothing at all.

You (Monday, 7:12 PM): Hey, how are you? Did you make it home safe last night?

My Mimo💕🏍️ (Monday, 9:45 PM): Yeah.

You (Tuesday, 4:30 PM): I was thinking about getting tickets for that movie you mentioned! What do you think?

(Seen, no reply)

You (Wednesday, 10:15 AM): Are you okay? I feel like you’re being distant. Did I do something wrong?

(No reply)

You’d tried giving him space, telling yourself he might be busy or overwhelmed. But by Friday night, the ache in your chest was unbearable. The rumors—about him being a heartbreaker, about him getting bored and leaving without a word—crept into your thoughts like poison.

“Maybe they were right,” you whispered, the tears coming faster now. You curled up in bed, clutching your knees to your chest. “Maybe I was just another distraction for him.”

….

It was a saturday night, the knock on your door was loud, urgent, and startling. You glanced at the clock, 11:47 PM, and hesitated. The rain was heavier now, and the thunder growled low in the distance. You wiped at your eyes, your heart pounding. Who could it be at this hour?

You opened the door cautiously and froze.

Minho stood there, drenched from head to toe. His motorcycle helmet was tucked under one arm, his leather jacket soaked through, and rain dripped from his dark bangs onto his flushed face. He looked… disheveled. Vulnerable.

“Minho?” you managed, your voice shaky.

His eyes softened the moment they met yours. “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low and rough, almost drowned out by the rain.

You blinked, torn between anger, confusion, and a flicker of hope. Your teary eyes must have been obvious because his expression shifted to one of guilt.

You stepped aside wordlessly, letting him in.

Inside, Minho stood awkwardly near the couch, his shoulders tense. He looked around your apartment like it was unfamiliar territory, though he’d been here many times before. You crossed your arms, watching him carefully.

“You’re soaking wet,” you said flatly, disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a towel. You threw it at him without ceremony.

He caught it, his lips twitching into a faint, almost apologetic smile. “Thanks.”

You stayed standing, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he just dried his hair in silence, avoiding your gaze.

“Why are you here, Minho?” you finally asked, your voice trembling.

He stopped mid-motion, the towel hanging limply in his hands. “I owe you an explanation.”

“You think?” you snapped, the bottled-up pain of the past week bursting out. “Do you have any idea how hurt I’ve been? You disappeared without a word! And after everything people said about you… I didn’t want to believe it, but—”

“Stop,” he said, his voice cracking. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But it’s not what you think.”

“Then explain,” you challenged, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively.

He took a shaky breath and sank onto the couch, running a hand through his damp hair. “I didn’t know how to deal with what I was feeling,” he admitted. “I thought if I put some distance between us, I could figure it out. But all I did was screw everything up.”

“Figure out what?”

He looked up at you, his eyes glassy with emotion. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw.

Your breath caught, and you took a step back, your mind racing. “You… what?”

“I’m in love with you,” he repeated, his voice firmer now. “I’ve never felt this way before, and it scared the hell out of me. I didn’t think I deserved you, and I didn’t want to risk messing things up. But pushing you away was the worst thing I could’ve done.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your ears. Tears welled up again, but this time they weren’t from pain. “Minho, you really hurt me,” you said quietly.

“I know,” he said, standing up and taking a tentative step toward you. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you let me.”

You hesitated, your emotions warring inside you. But the look in his eyes—the vulnerability, the sincerity—broke down your walls.

Slowly, you closed the distance between you, reaching out to touch his face. “You’re an idiot,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“I know,” he said with a soft smile, his hand coming up to gently wipe the tear away.

And then you kissed him.

It was slow at first, hesitant, but then the dam broke. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him, as if he was afraid you might vanish. The kiss deepened, raw and desperate, a mix of apology and promise.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily. He rested his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face.

“Does this mean I still have a chance?” he asked softly, his lips quirking into a hopeful smile.

You laughed through your tears. “You’re lucky I love you too, Minho.”

His grin widened, and he kissed you again, this time softer but no less passionate.

That night, as the rain poured outside, the two of you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, the pain of the past week washed away. And for the first time in days, you felt whole again.

tags: @hannamoon143 @intartaruginha

[theodorenmyth]

Oh my gosh, can we please get a part three of a sky without you fic or a drabble, perhaps? I love your writing so much 🤞

Like Theo and reader gotta go on a little date at hogsmeade when it's time to go on the trip after those weeks without each other and maybe their friends watching them? The golden trio seems to like teasing them lol

If your request are still open, of course. Love you and have a nice day!

The cold air smelled like butterbeer and snow.

Your gloved hand swung lightly between you and Theodore’s, your fingers just barely brushing his. You weren’t holding hands yet—not quite—but the air between you was thick with the warmth of something rekindled.

Hogsmeade looked like something out of a painting, all snow-dusted rooftops and strings of fairy lights tangled between shops. Couples huddled close. Laughter spilled from the Three Broomsticks.

But none of that mattered. Because you were smiling.

Laughing again—really laughing, that wide, bright grin that made your eyes crinkle and your nose scrunch. The one Theodore used to dream about when you weren’t speaking. The one he was scared he’d never get to see again.

“I still think the snowman I made last year was better,” you teased, sipping your butterbeer as you leaned against his arm.

Theodore rolled his eyes. “That ‘snowman’ looked like a melting pudding.”

“It had personality!”

You laughed harder when he choked on his drink. Across the street, not-so-subtle whispers rose from a group of students loitering by Honeydukes.

“I give them five minutes before one of them kisses the other,” Ron muttered.

“Four,” Hermione corrected, eyes gleaming behind her scarf. “Look at how Y/N’s leaning into him.”

Harry just smirked. “Mate’s glowing again.”

Back by the fire outside the tea shop, Theodore finally gave in. He reached out and gently slid his fingers through yours. This time, you didn’t just let it happen—you squeezed back, smiling into your cup.

“I missed you,” he said, voice low and a little hoarse.

You looked up at him, golden in the light, eyes full of warmth. “I know. I missed you too.”

And when you leaned in to kiss his cheek, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, Theodore swore the stars couldn’t hold a candle to you.

The moment you pulled away, you spotted the little enchanted photo booth tucked between Zonko’s and the post office, your eyes lit up.

“Theo. Theo, look,” you gasped, tugging on his sleeve like a kid in Honeydukes for the first time.

Theodore blinked at it. “You want a picture of us?”

“Duh. It prints in Polaroid style and the frame is literally covered in stars.” You tilted your head, flashing him the grin he hadn’t seen in what felt like lifetimes. “Please?”

He didn’t say anything. Just opened the curtain with a little sigh like he was being so put upon, even though his heart was doing flips. “Alright, alright. Come on, stargazer.”

You practically skipped inside.

The seat was tiny, barely big enough for the two of you, which meant you ended up practically in his lap, laughing as the curtain swayed behind you. The booth whispered a countdown—“Three… two… one…”

Click!

You grinned wide, holding up a peace sign, your cheek squished against Theodore’s. He didn’t smile in time, caught mid-blink, but he didn’t care. Because your laugh filled the space like music.Click!

You poked his cheek this time, teasing. “Smile, Theo. You’re supposed to look like you like me.”

He scoffed, but his grin gave him away. “I like you too much. That’s the problem.”

Click!

The last frame caught it—your face still and soft, looking at him like the stars were behind his eyes, and Theodore looking right back. That frame printed slower. The border twinkled.

You pulled it out of the slot and stared at it in silence.

“Merlin, we’re cute,” you whispered, then gasped. “I’m putting this in my journal.”

Theodore flushed. “You're not going to—”

You kissed his cheek again before he could finish. “Too late. It's already my favorite photo in the world.”

And it was.

Because for the first time in weeks, you looked golden again. And Theodore Nott finally got to keep a memory that didn’t hurt.

[misshoneyimhome]

I need to see the bruins fan meeting like Auston and Mitch for the first time since her and Willy started dating. I just knowwww it would be so fun. If you’re up to writing more of this I’ll ALWAYS have a request for you and your amazing writing skills

Well hello there, babe! 😉

Oh, you just know the chaos that would go down with a Bruins fan meeting Auston and Mitch for the first time—especially with poor Willy stuck in the middle 💕

But I had to sprinkle in some sweetness, too, because let’s be honest—our sweet angel Willy would be absolute pudding when he’s deeply in love with someone 🥹

I hope you enjoy this 🙏🏼

Tropes & Warnings: William Nylander x reader, enemies to lovers, rival teams, no warnings, just fluff and chirping

Word count: 1.9K

➼｡ﾟ

Rivals in Love - Friendly Fire I William Nylander

William had mentioned it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“So, Auston and Mitch want to meet you,” he said one evening over FaceTime, his tone so nonchalant it almost didn’t register.

You paused mid-sip of your tea, eyebrows shooting up. “Wait. What?”

“They’ve been asking about you,” he repeated, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “I figured it’s about time you meet them.”

You groaned, setting your mug down. “And why, exactly, do Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner care about meeting me?”

He smirked, leaning back in his chair and looking far too pleased with himself. “Because they don’t believe me when I say I’m dating a Bruins fan. They think I’m lying.”

“Probably because it sounds ridiculous,” you muttered, trying to ignore the nerves building in your stomach. “So, what? They want to size me up? Make sure I’m not some undercover Leafs spy sent to sabotage your already questionable playoff chances?”

William laughed, shaking his head. “No, they’re just curious. And maybe a little excited to give me stick about it. But don’t worry—they’ll love you.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpanned, already imagining the disaster this was bound to be.

The meeting was set for dinner at a trendy restaurant in Toronto, the sort of place with dim lighting and overpriced appetisers that made you wish you’d suggested a pub instead. You spent half the day debating what to wear, trying to find the perfect balance between “cool and confident” and “I’m totally fine meeting two of the most well-known hockey players in the league.”

When you finally arrived, William was already waiting outside, dressed in a fitted black jumper and dark jeans that made him look effortlessly put-together. His grin widened when he saw you, and he leaned down to kiss your cheek, his hand lingering at the small of your back.

“Nervous?” he teased as he led you inside.

“Should I be?” you shot back.

He smirked. “Not unless you’re scared of a little chirping.”

“Bring it on,” you said, trying to sound braver than you felt.

Inside, Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner were already seated at a booth in the back. Auston, dressed in a casual but clearly expensive jacket, leaned back in his seat with an air of quiet confidence, while Mitch, in a hoodie and baseball cap, was animatedly talking with his hands.

As you approached, they both turned to look at you, matching grins spreading across their faces.

“Oh, this is her,” Auston said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

“Yup,” Mitch added, leaning forward like he was studying a rare artefact. “The infamous Bruins fan.”

You rolled your eyes, already regretting agreeing to this. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It kind of is,” Mitch said, grinning. “You realise you’re surrounded by Leafs, yeah? This is enemy territory.”

“Trust me, I’m aware,” you replied as William gestured for you to sit beside him. “But don’t worry—I’ve faced worse.”

The dinner started off surprisingly light. Mitch was every bit as chatty as William had warned, firing off questions about your job, your favourite players, and how you’d managed to tolerate William for so long.

“So, you’re telling me you’ve never been tempted to switch allegiances?” Mitch asked, his eyes wide with mock disbelief.

“Not once,” you replied, smirking. “The Bruins are in my blood. I couldn’t switch even if I wanted to.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Auston said dryly, earning a laugh from Mitch. “You know, the Leafs are actually pretty fun to root for. Lots of drama. Great personalities. Decent playoff runs—sometimes.”

“Decent, huh?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”

William groaned, shaking his head. “Here we go.”

“I like her,” Mitch said, nudging Auston. “She’s feisty.”

“Feisty is one word for it,” Auston muttered, though there was a hint of a smile on his face.

By the time the mains arrived, the teasing was in full swing.

“So,” Auston said, leaning forward with a smirk. “What’s the deal with you two during Leafs-Bruins games? Do you sit on opposite sides of the sofa? Or do you just spend the whole game chirping each other?”

“She chirps me,” William interjected, rolling his eyes. “Constantly.”

“Because it’s fun,” you said with a grin.

“Relentless,” William muttered, though the fondness in his voice was impossible to miss.

Auston raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you let her chirp you about our playoff history?”

“Let her?” William said, glancing at you. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” you said, earning a laugh from Mitch.

When dessert rolled around, you’d fully settled into the chaos, even daring to dish it back when Auston teased you about your Bruins loyalty.

“So,” Mitch said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Be honest—how long do you think you’re going to last with Willy here? Like, is this a phase, or are you actually in it for the long haul?”

“Mitch,” William groaned, burying his face in his hands.

You smirked, pretending to think. “I guess it depends on how many more overtime games Toronto lose this season. I might not survive the second-hand embarrassment.”

Auston nearly choked on his drink, and Mitch doubled over laughing while William shook his head, muttering something in Swedish that you were sure wasn’t very polite.

“You’re perfect for him,” Auston said once he’d caught his breath. “Seriously. I’ve never seen him this whipped before.”

By the end of the night, the nerves you’d felt walking in were a distant memory. As William walked you to the car, his hand lingering at your waist, you glanced up at him.

“Your friends are intense,” you said, smiling.

He chuckled. “You handled it like a pro.”

“I mean, I didn’t really have a choice,” you teased. “It’s survival of the fittest with you Leafs guys.”

William stopped, turning to face you, his expression softening. “Thanks for coming,” he said quietly. “I know it wasn’t exactly your ideal night.”

You shrugged, leaning into him. “It wasn’t so bad. They’re kind of fun. Don’t tell them I said that.”

He grinned, his hands sliding around your waist as he pulled you closer. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

And as he kissed you under the glow of the Toronto skyline, you realised that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t such enemy territory after all.

_

The moment he stepped into the locker room, they ambushed him like a couple of schoolboys on a sugar rush.

“Well, well, well,” Mitch said, throwing an arm around William’s shoulders with an exaggerated grin. “If it isn’t Romeo himself.”

William groaned, shrugging Mitch off as he tossed his bag onto the bench. “I’m not doing this with you two.”

“Oh, but you are,” Auston said, leaning casually against the stalls with a smirk. “Because we’ve got questions, and you’re not getting out of here until we get answers.”

William sighed heavily, sitting down and bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught. “Fine. Go on then. Get it out of your system.”

Mitch wasted no time, pacing dramatically in front of him like a detective in a bad cop drama. “Alright, first of all—how the hell did you pull that off? A Bruins fan, Willy? I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“And not just any Bruins fan,” Auston chimed in, his grin widening. “She’s… normal. Like, she doesn’t seem like she’s in it for the clout or anything.”

Mitch nodded emphatically, spinning on his heel to face William. “And she chirps you. Constantly. And you let her! You, of all people. Mr. ‘I Don’t Take Chirps Lightly.’”

“She doesn’t let him win, either,” Auston added with a chuckle. “That’s the best part.”

William ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “Are you two finished yet?”

“Nope,” Mitch said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Because the real question is: how serious are you about her?”

William hesitated, his usual easy-going demeanour giving way to something more thoughtful. It wasn’t like him to open up about personal stuff—especially with these two—but he knew they wouldn’t drop it until he answered.

“Serious enough,” he said finally, meeting their expectant gazes.

Auston raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Like, ‘introduce her to the family’ serious? Or just ‘let her chirp me until the playoffs’ serious?”

“The family already knows about her,” William admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mum loves her. She keeps asking when she’s coming to Sweden.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mitch said, holding up a hand like he needed to process this information. “She’s met your mum?”

“Not in person,” William clarified quickly. “But yeah, they’ve talked.”

Auston let out a low whistle, leaning back against the lockers. “Wow. You’re really whipped, huh?”

William didn’t even bother denying it. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She’s different,” he said simply. “She doesn’t care about the fame or any of that. She gives me stick for it half the time. It’s… nice.”

Mitch and Auston exchanged a look, their usual teasing expressions softening just slightly.

“Alright, real talk,” Mitch said, dropping into the seat across from William. “She’s actually pretty cool. Like, way cooler than we expected.”

“Speak for yourself,” Auston said with a smirk. “I always knew Willy would end up with someone who could keep him in check.”

“She’s good for you,” Mitch added, his tone more sincere now. “You seem… happier. More like yourself.”

William looked at them, slightly surprised by the unexpected shift in tone.

“You’re not going to get all sappy on me now, are you?” he asked, though his voice lacked its usual sarcasm.

“Not a chance,” Auston said, pushing off the wall and grabbing his stick. “But seriously, she’s a good one. Don’t screw it up.”

“Yeah,” Mitch agreed, grinning as he followed Auston out to the ice. “And if you do, I’m calling her to hang out. She’s funnier than you, anyway.”

William shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he started lacing up his skates. For once, he wasn’t annoyed by their chirps.

Because they were right.

_

The late afternoon sunlight spilled into your living room as you propped your phone against a stack of books, preparing for William’s usual post-practice FaceTime call.

“Miss me yet?” he asked the moment the screen lit up, his familiar grin filling the frame. He was still in his hoodie, his damp hair pushed back from his shower.

“Not even a little,” you teased, leaning back into the sofa, though your smile gave you away.

“Liar,” he said softly, his blue eyes warm as they held yours through the screen. “Because I know I miss you.”

Your heart fluttered, and you tucked your feet under you, trying to play it cool. “I thought you were supposed to be focusing on hockey.”

“I am,” he replied easily, “but you’re a bit distracting.”

You rolled your eyes, but the laugh you let out betrayed your affection. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming, maybe,” he quipped.

“Debatable.”

The playful back-and-forth was interrupted by a sudden change in his expression, his grin softening into something more serious. “You know,” he said quietly, “Mitch and Auston really like you.”

“Oh, I can tell,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “They roasted me for two hours straight.”

“Yeah,” he said with a chuckle, “but that’s how you know they like you. Mitch already asked when you’re coming back to Toronto.”

“And Auston?”

William smirked. “He said you’re too good for me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, at least he’s honest.”

William’s smile lingered as he watched you, the silence between you warm and comfortable. For the first time in a while, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this thing between you was worth every chirp and challenge.

[mossygirl333]

Pudding and Martini with Konig

AN: Ofc Anon!

Bakery Order: Pudding - “Well, well, well, look at what we have here.” + Martini - Mafia AU

Bosses daughter!reader x rival!mafia!Konig

Tw/Cw: autistic!Konig, bold!reader, secret relationship, unprotected p in v, voyeurism, slight gun play

SMUT UNDER THE CUT!!!

Your father.

It was a touchy subject when spoken about intimately. But easy to leverage, his name spat out as a curse. It was easy to get what you wanted when being the daughter of a well known Mafia boss. A crime family that practically ruled the streets of Austria.

Well, not completely.

Konig.

His family also struck fear into the hearts of anyone who heard the whispers. And Konig, their boss's son was the meanest one. Brutal in his work, meaty hands the size of dinner plates, cold blue eyes sharp with rage, tall and looming. That was how they described him.

He was cocky. A true bastard to anyone that passed by, he liked to leverage his power as much as you did. You two weren't much different.

Maybe you could sympathize with him. The blood on his hands, the rage he held in his heart. It felt good to have someone who would understand.

And those eyes, those sapphire hued eyes that twitched and ached with agony and self-loathing. Oh how they softened when they saw you.

It wasn't like it was a secret relationship, well it was. Running off onto abandoned places, hiding away in unknown bars and kissing behind doors. He made you laugh, made you smile.

You didn't understand why the world could hate him when it was so easy for you to love him.

But for the sake of all else you held dear, it must be behind closed doors.

-

Your heels clicked against the street lined cobblestone, hips swaying gently. The cold Austrian breeze bit at your nose, making you hug your fur coat a bit closer.

The noise of the nightclub grew louder, a firm knock ringing against the door. It slid open, the buzz of music and drunk patrons rang in your ear like an annoying fly.

"You got a name kleines Mädchen?" (little girl). The bouncer tilted his head, most likely apart of Konigs family, light ruddy brown hair and blue eyes, stereotypical for them.

"My name is 🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻...Daughter of Boss 🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻." You snobbishly say, crossing your arms. "Can I come in? I need to speak to the son."

He pauses for a moment, before taking you inside. You walked behind him, a sour expression on your face (perfected to hide the butterflies starting to well up in your belly). It wasn't the first time you had come to see him.

You walked up the stairs, finally stopping at his office door. Rapping 4 times (the secret code you two made up) and stepping back to wait. A heavy sound, followed by footsteps were all you heard until he opened the door. His mask was on, eyes meeting yours. You could almost imagine the smile his shirt hid.

"Come in." His voice was rough, his brother was standing too close for him to act soft (yet). "Go away Kilgore." He shooed the younger man away and tugged you inside.

The door clicked, closing behind you as his warm hand rested on your lower back. Stabilizing you as you slipped off your heels. "kleine Maus, It's cold out. Why wear such skimpy clothes?" He tilts his head, wide eyes following you as you collapse onto his couch.

"For you." You mumble, meeting his gaze and pulling up your dress a little bit to show your thighs, playfully circling the gun strapped to it.

He blushes a little, shifting timidly. "You look nice.." He sits next to you, easily hoisting you up into his lap. "But the gun?"

You giggle, lifting up his mask to whisper in his ear. "Thought you'd like it. Loaded too...The danger, the way my heart would race-" Your breathing hitches a little, tracing your nails across his twitching abs. His hands slowly settle onto your hips, letting you take off his face covering. Thick auburn hair was tied back low, wide eyes full of excitement. "kleine Maus.."

"Hm?" You tilt your head, tapping your chin. "Are you excited baby-" He pushes you down onto the couch, ripping the gun from your holster and resting it on your pulse.

"Don't tease me..." He mumbles, gazing at your flushed face. Gently trace the cool metal across your collarbone, thumb sliding off the safety. "When I could just kill you."

you laugh, baring your neck to him and rubbing his massive biceps. "Yeah..I know. That's the fun of it."

Your lips meet his and he tosses the gun aside, burying his fingers into your hair. Slipping his tongue into your mouth as he paws at your hips, mumbling a little.

You swing your legs up, wrapping around his waist and pinning him against you. A laugh leaving your lips as he hitches, shifting a little to pull down your panties - now slick with arousal.

He unbuckles his belt awkwardly, one hand still buried in your lockers. Wriggling a little until his cock sprang out and slapped against your thigh. "I love you." He mumbles, pressing his lips to your forehead as his tip finds its way into your entrance.

You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to feel.

Konig was a big man in all aspects. Which made having sex with him a little difficult. He huffed a little, caging you in as he sunk in a few inches, throbbing and pulsating against your walls.

His lips trail to your temple, whimpering a little when you clench around him. Sucking him in a bit deeper. "You feel so good kleine Maus...my Schatz..."

he finally bottoms out, panting into your neck as he slowly thrusts into you. Growing more and more rough, eyes growing blurry with tears of pleasure. “S-so much…”

Your fingernails clench into his shoulders, feeling the knotted tense muscles there, holding as he slams his hips into yours. Thick heavy thighs dragging against your ass.

His tip twitches, veins throbbing inside of your pulsating cunt. Feeling his skin welt up because of your nails.

“m’gonna cum…” you whine, the slick squelching noises growing louder and louder until the coil in your belly snaps.

thick ropes of cum and frothy arousal mix up between the two of you, his hips stuttering to a stop as he lays there against you, shaky and teary eyed. “…i can’t keep this a secret anymore.”

[atinyjules]

Sugar and Love ft. Werewolf Cafe Owner!K

A/n: I mean, I've always imagined him as a cafe owner, so I thought, why not add in him being a werewolf too.

Here it iss

Genre: Werewolf au, fluff, romance

Pairings: Werewolf cafe owner!K x Sugar Plum fairy cafe employee!reader

Warnings: none

In the quaint, bustling town of Sunshine City, where fairytale creatures lived in harmony, there stood a charming café at the heart of it all—Moonlit Delights. The scent of fresh pastries and enchanted brews filled the air, drawing in customers from all over, eager to taste the warmth and comfort the café had to offer. It was a haven, a little escape from the world. At its centre was its owner—K, a brooding yet warmhearted werewolf.

K had built Moonlit Delights with his own hands, every wooden beam and enchanted lantern placed with care. But no amount of craftsmanship or magic could compare to the true heart of the café—you, the sugar plum fairy who worked tirelessly as the pastry chef, always perfecting your signature dessert: sugar plum pudding.

You took your work seriously, never cutting corners, always ensuring that each pastry was made with the utmost care. K admired that about you. No, he adored it. He adored the way you hummed absentmindedly while kneading dough, the way your wings fluttered when you were excited about a new recipe, the way your delicate hands dusted powdered sugar onto desserts like it was a spell of its own.

And so, K did what any love-struck fool would do—he showered you with quiet, unwavering devotion.

Every morning before you arrived, he made sure the freshest, ripest sugar plums were placed neatly on your workstation, their deep purple hue gleaming under the soft glow of the café lights. He never said anything about it, only watching from the counter as your eyes lit up at the sight, a small smile tugging at your lips before you got to work.

When flour dusted your cheeks or a streak of batter smeared across your wrist, K was always there, brushing it away with the pad of his thumb, his touch lingering for just a moment too long. He tried to act casual about it, but his heart pounded every single time.

Even though you had wings, he insisted on walking you home after late-night shifts, claiming it was just to “make sure you got back safe.” He didn’t mention how much he enjoyed those quiet moments, just the two of you under the twinkling lights of Sunshine City, the sound of your laughter blending with the soft hum of the night.

He crafted drinks just for you, never needing to ask what you wanted. If you were tired, he made something rich and soothing. If you were excited about a new recipe, he brewed something light and floral to match your mood. It was second nature to him, the way he paid attention to every little detail about you.

And when the café got too busy, when orders piled up and stress settled on your delicate shoulders, K always found a way to ease it. A warm cup of your favorite drink waiting at your station. A gentle nudge of encouragement when he passed by. A brief, knowing glance from across the room that silently told you, “I’ve got you.”

You, however, seemed completely oblivious to it all. Or perhaps you simply saw it as kindness, nothing more. You were too focused on your craft, too dedicated to the café, to notice the way K’s gaze softened whenever he looked at you, or the way his usually gruff voice melted whenever he spoke your name.

And still, he didn’t mind. Not really.

Because as long as you were here, in his café, his world, filling it with warmth and the scent of sugar plums, he would wait.

The café buzzed with warmth, the scent of sugar and spice filling the air. You placed the last batch of desserts on the counter, wiping your hands on your apron.

“Here,” you said. “That’s the last one for now.”

K stepped forward immediately, lifting the plates with ease. His gaze flickered over your work, admiration softening his usually gruff expression.

“They look perfect,” he murmured.

“You say that every time,” you teased.

“Because it’s always true,” he replied, completely serious.

You laughed, and K quickly turned away, hoping you wouldn’t notice the way his ears reddened. He moved through the café, delivering plates with quiet ease, but his gaze kept drifting back to you.

You, too, focused on your pastries, didn’t notice.

And so, K simply watched, waiting. For now, this was enough.

The day had finally wound down, the café now quiet, save for the soft hum of the enchanted lanterns overhead. You stretched your arms, feeling the lingering warmth of the ovens and the faint scent of sugar still clinging to your clothes. It had been a busy day, but a good one.

Slipping off your apron, you grabbed your things and made your way to the front. “K, I’m heading out now,” you called over your shoulder, expecting the usual deep, rumbling “Goodnight. Get home safe.”

Silence.

You frowned, glancing around the empty café. Strange. K was always there, always watching until you left, always making sure you got home safe. But now, there was nothing—no reply, no familiar figure leaning against the counter.

Something twisted in your chest.

Pushing past the swinging door, you stepped into the kitchen—only to freeze.

K lay sprawled on the ground, motionless. His broad frame looked impossibly still, his usual strength nowhere to be seen.

“K!” The sound of his name barely left your lips before you rushed to his side, heart pounding.

A dull ache pulsed in K’s head as he slowly stirred, the scent of sugar and spice grounding him before he even opened his eyes. The familiar warmth of the café surrounded him, but something felt off.

Blinking, he realized he was lying in one of the café booths, a damp cloth resting on his forehead. His body felt heavy, his limbs sluggish, but the moment he tried to sit up, he heard a sharp gasp.

“K!”

Your voice.

Before he could fully process it, you were at his side, wings fluttering anxiously as you crouched beside him. Your eyes—usually bright with excitement over pastries and new recipes—were now wide with concern, scanning his face as if making sure he was really awake.

“You scared me,” you breathed, pressing a hand to his arm as if to steady him. “You just—laid there. What happened?”

K blinked at you, still dazed, before his gaze softened. Even now, he could see faint traces of flour on your hands, a smudge of sugar on your sleeve—proof that you had stayed, that you hadn’t left him alone.

His lips parted, voice rough from sleep. “…You stayed?”

Your eyes glistened, frustration and relief mixing as you hit his arm—firmly, but not hard enough to hurt.

“Of course I stayed! I thought something serious happened to you!”

Your voice wavered slightly, betraying just how shaken you had been. K blinked, momentarily stunned—not by the light hit, but by the raw emotion in your words. You had been worried. Deeply.

Warmth bloomed in his chest, something tender and aching. Without thinking, his hand lifted, rough fingers cupping your cheek as he gazed at you, the usual gruffness in his eyes replaced by something softer, something gentle.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured, thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You stilled under his touch, your breath hitching slightly. K realized then just how close you were, how your wings fluttered as if mirroring the unspoken emotions between you.

But you didn’t pull away.

Your breath caught for a moment, eyes searching his as his hand remained warm against your cheek. K exhaled softly, the weight of his emotions pressing against his chest, too heavy to keep locked away any longer.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, gaze tracing your features like they were something sacred.

A startled laugh escaped you, the sound light and sweet despite the tension that had just filled the room. “K, this really isn’t the time to say that.”

His lips curled into the faintest smile as his thumb brushed your cheek again, touch lingering, reverent. “I’d say it anytime,” he said, voice low, steady. “I’d do anything just to hear your sweet laugh forever.”

Your breath hitched. Something in his tone—earnest, unwavering—sent warmth curling deep in your chest.

“…K?” you whispered, your voice softer now. “What do you mean?”

He held your gaze, no hesitation, no more waiting.

“I love you.” His voice was steady, filled with quiet certainty. “I’ve loved you for so long. Every time I watch you work, every time you smile, every time you say my name—I fall a little more. And I don’t want to just stand back anymore. I want to be by your side, always.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him, lips parting slightly in surprise. Then, warmth spread across your face, and that same laugh—his favorite sound in the world—escaped you once more, softer this time.

“You big wolf,” you murmured, shaking your head fondly. “You could’ve told me sooner.”

His heart skipped a beat as your hands lifted, resting gently over his.

“I love you too, K.”

A deep exhale left him, like a weight had finally been lifted. His thumb traced slow, lingering circles against your cheek, and this time, when he leaned in, you didn’t hesitate.

Your lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss, filled with all the love and quiet longing that had been left unsaid for too long. And in that moment, everything else faded away—leaving only the warmth between you, steady and certain.

That's it for this one!

I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it 🥹✨️

Likes and rebloggs are appreciated🩷✨️

[mondaymelon]

— 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁. ♥

:feat~ yandere!albedo: (warnings~ obsessive behavior, yandere, murder, the usual)

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu

(art credit to eriimyon on twitter ✩)

You are perfect in his eyes. Perfect. Everything about you is flawless. You are a blessing, a holy thing that should never be soiled by someone as lowly as him. The humor that you hide behind sparkling eyes, the delicate way you smile at him, almost painfully so, it reminds him of himself. The porcelain you that could shatter at the wrong word. You are light, you are warmth, and yet, you are still his everything.

He lives for you, as selfish as it may be. His restless nights are spent wasting away, wishing he was by your side, and his days are spent with you, basking in your warm, sun-like presence.

Albedo’s memory has stored away every precious second the two of you have spent together. The way your arm brushes against his, the way your smiling face is subtly dusted with the slightest flush when you see him, he sees it all, and it makes his heart race sinfully quickly.

Ah, if only those innocent days could last forever.

Yet how could Albedo be content with just that? A synthetic human who has gained emotions - just about anyone would laugh, but it was true. He was selfish, and he embraced it. Because if that selfishness made it so that he’d be by your side forever, just him and you, then by all means, he would do it all.

Then, is that why you find yourself locked in the cellar of some godforsaken place in who knows where? Is that why Albedo smiles so happily upon seeing that you’ve finally awoken? Is that why he leaps forward, embracing you in a hug, yet you feel the reason to fearfully recoil?

Maybe it was. It wasn't his place to decide.

One day, he’ll sort out his thoughts, one way or another. After all, now, he had all the time in the world to be with you, side by side, until the end of time.

He had already taken countermeasures to make sure none of the filthy pests you called “friends” would go out of their way to seek you. It was unfortunate, seeing you run into his lab with tears pooling in your eyes, but then you’d run forward and embrace him, letting your tears stain his coat.

And so what else could he do but stay silent, merely whispering words of reassurance into your ears, returning the hug tightly? You weren’t able to see his smile at the time, the way his face contorted and his cold eyes widened with pure delight.

“What’s wrong, darling? Are you uncomfortable?” His eyes are too bright, his smile too giddy, all of it feels unnatural, and it gives you shivers. He presses his face to your clasped hands, kissing them. “I’m sorry I can’t take these shackles off of you, but it’s for your own good. Yes, that extends to the gag on your mouth as well. It’s a shame to be unable to hear your voice, but I have my reasons.”

“After all, if you escaped, how much trouble would that be? Darling, you’d break my heart!”

“Ah, let’s forget about those trivial matters…” He shakes his head dismissively, hands now holding yours. “I trust you. I trust that you wouldn’t do that to me.”

“And since we’ll be together forever, until the end of time, it’s only natural that one day, inevitably, you’ll feel something for me too.”

“So until then, I’ll just have to wait patiently, won’t I?”

“Oh, but I suppose all of this is new to you. You’ve never seen this side of me before, have you?”

“Then I’ll let you in on a little hint, darling. I’m not as patient as I seem~”  ♥

(a/n) by the time youre reading this ill be out of state so uh hey future me

[chaos-chloe]

Herbal - Grizzy x Reader

Summary: Friday night with your lover and herbs

TW: herbs = weed, Established relationship, a lil handsy and cuddles

in a cozy little apartment, nestled in the heart of a bustling city, there lived a couple named ___ and Grizzy. They had been together for a while, sharing countless adventures and creating memories that would last a lifetime. Friday nights were their special time, a ritual of unwinding from the week’s stress with some laughter, snacks, and, of course, their favorite herbal remedy.

On one particularly chilly Friday evening, ___ and Grizzy settled onto their well-loved couch, a soft blanket draped over them, and a bowl of buttered popcorn resting between them. The room was dimly lit by the golden glow of fairy lights, casting playful shadows that danced along the walls. The world outside faded away as they shared stories, laughter, and occasional goofy antics.

As the night progressed, Grizzy, ever the lighthearted spirit, started to feel the magic of the moment sweep over him. His eyes sparkled like stars, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. “Hey,” he leaned over, whispering dramatically, “what if we build a blanket fort? Like, a magical kingdom where we rule as the Supreme Pudding Monarchs!” 

___ giggled, feeling that familiar warmth of comfort wash over, the kind that turned thoughts into cuddly bubbles. “You mean the kingdom where you eat all the pudding and I’m left with just spoons?” They both erupted into laughter, a symphony of joy echoing through their cozy space.

Grizzy, feeling playful, couldn’t resist the urge to get a little handsy. He moved closer, wrapping his arms around ___, pulling her into the perfect snuggle. His fingers danced along ___’s arm, making silly shapes, claiming them as the kingdom of 'Cuddleville.'

With his giggles growing louder, Grizzy’s mischievous side kicked in. “You can't escape, my queen! You’re forever trapped in Cuddleville!” he declared, and continued to nuzzle ___’s neck, painting the air with warmth and affection.

___, on the other hand, melted deeper into the couch, embracing the serenity of being wrapped in Grizzy’s playful energy. Each friendly poke and playful squeeze made her heart swell with adoration. She loved these moments, where the worries of the world melted away and all that existed was them, lost in their bubble of joy.

Yet, as Grizzy continued to be a bundle of energy, ___ found solace in the quietness her high brought. She savored the giggles, the cuddles, and the unique bond they shared, letting out a soft, contented sigh. “We should just stay here forever,” she murmured, drifting off slightly, her head resting against Grizzy’s shoulder.

“Forever sounds perfect. In Cuddleville, time doesn’t exist,” Grizzy replied, his voice softer now, laced with a hint of sleepy silliness. The two basked in the warmth and simplicity of their love, imagining a world where nothing mattered but laughter and closeness.

As the night wore on, the fairy lights flickered like distant stars, and the city outside hummed a soothing lullaby. In their little corner of the universe, ___ and Grizzy danced through moments of giggles and warmth, creating a night filled with enchanting memories that would forever linger, like a sweet spell cast on a perfect Friday night.

[hufflegruff]

Chapter 4: A Knowing Look

Pairing: Sebastian x F!Reader Summary: In which Sebastian is whipped and literally everyone can see from a mile away that this is more than friendship.

“Is that… a mistletoe?” “It… must be Anne’s doing.” Was all Sebastian could say, rather lamely. He was ready to laugh it off. Tell her that it was just a silly little old thing. But to his surprise, she replied almost matter-of-factly: “… Supposedly if we don’t kiss, we’d be doomed to 100 years of misfortune.” Almost cautiously, he replied, “We wouldn’t want that.” “Not at all,” She said as she nodded.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | AO3 Link

Chapter 4: Anne

Winter fell upon Feldcroft. Snow descended upon the Sallows’ home in soft billowy mounds.  

Sebastian had never really understood the appeal of Christmas. It was always too cold, too dark and too stifling to just stay at home. Under Solomon’s roof, he never let himself feel too comfortable. Not even the guise of mulled cider, plum pudding and ornately decorated pine trees could make him put his guard down. He much preferred the freedom of Hogwarts endless hallways. If not for Anne - well, he frankly wouldn’t have bothered to make the trip over. There was little joy to reap or use to gain from seeing Solomon’s irritable face.  

But despite Solomon’s numerous shortcomings, he allowed him to invite both of his best friends over for Christmas. And for that, he was grateful.

Glancing over to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but soften and break into a smile at the sight. Under the glow of the dim candlelight, Ominis and Anne were chatting merrily. 

Ominis normally looked so stoic, like an old man that held the entire weight of the wizarding world in the crease of his brow. That was the blight of the Gaunt family name. But as he sat listening to Anne, who was animatedly retelling one of her classic tales of misadventure, his expression was as light as a feather. Even with his perfectly pressed shirt and impeccably neat cardigan, it was such a relief to see that he could look like an ordinary teenage boy. 

And Anne… Well, Anne had her good days and bad days. Thankfully, today was one of her better ones. She’d been particularly energetic as of late. Despite Sebastian’s protests, she went out of her way to decorate the cottage with wreaths, tinsel and candles galore. Insisting that guests should not be subjected to Christmas in a house so bare.

He hadn’t seen either of them look so content in a while. Not since they were just three kids scheming mischief in the Undercroft. Not since they’ve become three weary people weathered by fate’s hand. 

The normalcy of it all gave him newfound hope. One that felt different from the kind of hope had him hunting ancient relics, ravaging the restricted section, and burning dark wizards ever since Anne got hurt.

This one was softer. Much quieter and warmer. 

Just for today, he would graciously allow himself not to worry. Not of curses or cures or hidden scriptoriums. Just Christmas. Just family and friends.

Anne’s voice broke him out of reverie, “Sebastian! What are you daydreaming about? Come here!” She beckoned him over with a wave of her hand.

“Probably best not to know,” Ominis said, “likely something despicable or unlawful.”

“Funny.” Sebastian said dryly, as he made his way over to them, “Utterly hilarious.”

“I am rather, aren’t I?” Ominis replied cheekily.

“If slander is your particular brand of humour.”

“Forget presents,” Ominis’ voice was laced with sarcasm, “Your endless wit is the greatest gift you could ever afford me.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. The mouth on this one.

Sebastian looked around the room and noticed that there was one person sorely missing. Their absurdly lovely (it’s all still very complicated) friend. After the whole Andrew Larson ordeal, he conceded that it was possible that this whole friendship thing… could potentially be more than a friendship thing. 

It was a crush - a flight of fancy. On someone who just happened to be a beautiful, smart and wickedly talented friend.

That was the only way that Sebastian could rationalise it. Crushes were perfectly normal and frivolously fleeting. Calling her a softness, or a fancy or even the object of his affection was all still manageable. It was better than the alternative. Because if he were to start calling it anything more than that… 

Well, that could be perilous.

Love had consequences, and Sebastian wasn’t sure if he was ready to face them.

The girl wonder had also been staying with them in Feldcroft these past two days. Sebastian had only been back at Feldcroft for two days and Anne had already been making terribly sly remarks his way. How could she have known? Had she and Ominis been exchanging letters behind his back?

He supposed that practically half of Hogwarts had already accused him of being infatuated with the girl wonder. But in fairness, the prying eyes of the student body had been privy of his relationship with her for the better half of two years. It made him wonder if he was being so obvious that perhaps even Solomon could sense it too.

That would be mortifying. 

And honestly, after the emotional whirlwind he’d already been on — Sebastian didn’t know how it could get any worse.

He cleared his throat, “Anyways, where’s the girl wonder gone to now?”

Anne shot him a mischievous look that Sebastian knew meant trouble. It was too devilish and deliberate to ignore, and it felt like Anne could see right through him. What was she plotting? Sebastian raised a curious eyebrow in response. 

Anne replied with a shrug, “She’s just gone to the room to grab something.”

And as if it had been planned meticulously ahead of time — the door creaked open and the sound of her footsteps approached.

He turned around and almost made an ungodly sound at the sight. A wrangled, pained sound that he was frankly quite embarrassed to acknowledge. Because this — whatever this was — was something he hadn’t been expecting. 

“Is that my sweater?” Sebastian swallowed thickly.

The girl walked out of the bed chambers in an old green knit sweater with a small embroidered flower on the left corner that looked all too familiar. There was nothing spectacular about it, but Sebastian knew without a sliver of doubt that it was his sweater that hung a little too loosely on her shoulders. Because as most nine year old boys did with their clothes, he had bought it dismissively when he was in Diagon Alley, and wore it to death in his youth. It had been chucked carelessly across fields, caves, bodies of water all across Feldcroft. It was tattered, frayed and looked worse for wear from his haphazard use.

So how in Salazar’s name did it manage to look so damn good on her?

There was nothing precious about it. 

But it was his. And she was wearing it. 

Sebastian was of two minds about it all. He couldn’t quite decide it himself — was this a gift or divine punishment from the Gods? Where had she even found the old blasted thing and was she actively trying to kill him? The niggling urge to touch her was stronger than he had ever felt before. His self-restraint was melting with every second longer his eyes lingered on her. The only thing that was holding him back from holding on to her (and never letting go) was the ridicule he’d most definitely receive from Ominis and Anne.

To his dismay, to the deep sickly pit in the bottom of his stomach — this was very likely something that would be permanently etched into his mind. There was something primal inside the diabolical crevices of his brain that just couldn’t unsee it. Some unhinged line of thinking that his brain managed to conjure up to justify it all. That if she looked this perfectly right in his clothes, he could believe that there was a universe in which she could be his.

That if people could be owned (he knew they couldn’t) — she would be rightfully his.

“Oh, I figured you wouldn't mind,” Anne said, “She was feeling a little chilly, so I gave her one of your old sweaters. You hardly wear it now anyways.”

Almost nervously, the girl wonder gave a small twirl, “Well, it doesn’t look silly on me does it?”

Silly? Sebastian thought. It was a little silly. 

It was silly that the sight of her in his old, worn and beaten sweater that he’d worn to death, made his heart scream out of his chest. How was it possible that she could even make scraps of wool look so bewitching?

It was as if being the wielder of a rare form of ancient magic hadn’t sufficed her hunger for power. It was as if she went out of her way to contrive her very own beguiling brand of magic that would render him a total fucking dunce. How else could Sebastian explain the prickling in his fingertips to reach out to her? Or the compulsion in his chest to bury his face in the crook of her neck? And that stupid sweater must’ve smelled like him. Years and years of him. By that logic — because she was wearing it — that must mean she now smelled like him too.

And the thought of that was almost too thrilling for his chest to handle. 

Merlin. All this overthinking was a testament to the steely grip this witch had on his heart.

Despite his inner turmoil, he just about managed to choke out a response.

“Not at all. It suits you.” 

It more than suited her. In fact if she never wanted to take it off — he’d gladly allow it.

Ominis gave him a pointed look. Anne smiled knowingly. Sebastian wanted to hide. He felt as if his innermost feelings were being paraded on display. Like his internal organs and his blathering heart had been sprawled across the dinner table for everyone to witness. The only person that didn’t seem amused or even remotely aware of his pining was her. She looked at him so sincerely that it was almost distressing. Delightfully doe-eyed, she smiled brightly at his compliment. 

It was so fucking endearing that he had to look away. Any longer and would probably combust on the spot into a fan of pitiful flames. Or collapse from this corny infatuation-induced arrhythmia his heart was suffering from. So he turned to look at Anne scathingly instead. 

“But thanks for asking before you raided my closet, Anne.” Sebastian said chidingly.

Anne smiled mysteriously, ignoring his accusatory tone all together.

“I was being a courteous host is all.” She said innocently.

Sometimes Sebastian forgot how conniving his sister could truly be. He couldn’t decide whether he was annoyed or proud of her shenanigans. 

The girl wonder, sensing something off in Sebastian’s tone, interjected, “Anne was just trying to help. But I can put on something else if you’d prefer—”

“No.” Sebastian said firmly, “You don’t have to. I don’t mind.”

From afar, he heard Ominis snicker.

Ominis was likely calling Sebastian all sorts of embarrassingly belittling names in his head. But that seemed unfair. How was Sebastian supposed to tell her that he would in fact mind it very, very much if she took off his sweater — without sounding like an utter fool? 

“Thank you.” She said with a smile and his heart was beside itself.

In fairness, he supposed that Ominis had been right about one thing. 

Sebastian was a fucking sap.

“I can’t help but picture a young, petulant baby-faced Sebastian running around the house causing all sorts of mayhem in this sweater,” she said full of mirth as she wrapped her arms around herself, hugging the sweater in glee. Never had he been jealous of a sweater before. That was new.

“Come off it,” Sebastian retorted, “I’ll have you know I was never a petulant child.” 

Ominis piped, “Never? That’s odd. You’re still perfectly petulant to me.”

“Okay someone put Ominis on a time out please.” Sebastian said grouchily. 

The girl wonder laughed. And like a shot of healing draught down his throat, the sound of it washed away the irritation in the nooks of his taut body.

As she linked arms with Ominis, she said “Come Ominis. I’ll save you from Sebastian’s wrath.”

They retreated into the kitchen, getting plates to help Solomon set up the tables for dinner. With burning eyes, Sebastian watched as they walked away, feeling listless tied to the ground that he stood on. Anne stayed firmly beside him, as if she’d been waiting for this moment to corner him all evening.

“I saw that.” Anne whispered.

His heart leaped, “Pray tell, sister, exactly what you saw?”   

“Oh,” she said coyly, “Just the terribly soppy looks you were giving our friend.”

“Oh.” Sebastian said, almost sounding resigned.

Anne raised an eyebrow, “That’s all you have to say?”

“Well, frankly you’re not the first person to say that to me. So I can’t really give you much points for originality,” He replied dryly, belligerent thinking about the long list of friends (and frenemies in Leander’s case) who had already informed him of his affections towards her.

“Hmm, yes. Ominis did mention something about that,”Anne said.

So Sebastian had been right. They had been exchanging letters. He supposed that there wasn’t much point in denying it anymore. While it was true that he could admit to himself that he cared for her deeply, he hadn’t confirmed it verbally with anyone else. Not even Ominis. 

But maybe it would be cathartic for him to just… say it out loud. To hell with it all.

Maybe this would be a good time to start.

“I guess there’s not much to contest when it’s the truth.” Sebastian tried to say as casually as he could, despite the palpable weight of what he was so blatantly saying. 

Almost gleefully, Anne shrieked, grabbed onto his shoulders and shook him manically, “That’s so very sickeningly endearing for you to say. Who are you and what have you done to my terribly cynical brother?”

He groaned “I don’t know. It’s disgusting isn’t it?”

“Are you in love with her?” Anne squealed as she asked excitedly, ignoring Sebastian’s state of emotional turmoil entirely.

Love? He had wanted to yell. Or throw up. He’d been trying his damn hardest to avoid the word, and now Anne had just thrown it into his face. It had already taken so much out of him just for Sebastian to concede that this could possibly be more than friendship; that this was a romantic affliction. But love? That was a whole other degree and department of troublesome feelings. Love was severe. Love was drastic. Love was a steep curve for him to climb.

Also had Anne forgotten that she was sitting literally right there? In the next room? That she could easily overhear?

With a slight hiss, Sebastian motioned for her to pipe down, “Be a little more discreet would you? Also that’s a little strong. I wouldn’t quite call it… that.”

“Well, then what would you call it?” Anne asked inquisitively.

What was it? That was the ever-complicated question, wasn’t it?

“A crush.” He said simply.

“A crush?” Anne said with a laugh of disbelief, “No way. That brief … whatever you had on Violet McDowell in 2nd year, that was a crush—”

“—God, don’t remind me—” Sebastian said with a grimace at the embarrassing flashback.

But Anne paid no mind as she continued.

“— But this? The way you look at her. The way you speak of her — No matter which way you put it, I don’t think there’s anything else you can call it.”

Sebastian almost took offence at that. Because there had to be something he could call it that didn’t feel so treacherous. That didn’t make him feel like so suffocatingly he’d been backed into a tight corner. 

“It’s… complicated.” He replied lamely.

“Sebastian it’s not like you’re trying to decipher an ancient form of magic,” Anne said sarcastically with a roll of her eyes, “It’s just a feeling. It just is or it isn’t. Boys truly are hopeless.”

Sebastian resented that.

“I resent that. It’s not that simple. I’m figuring things out.”

What was the rush anyway? To figure all this out? Love… or whatever this was, wasn’t something to take lightly. He never imagined that Anne would’ve been so frivolous with the word. If anything, he thought that she’d be telling him to tread carefully, not throw caution into the fucking wind. Wasn’t it decidedly worse to say such things so carelessly? To say something that he didn’t mean? 

And if Sebastian was sure of anything, he knew that the girl wonder didn’t deserve anything less than the truth.

“Well you might want to figure things out a tad faster.” Anne said as if to warn him.

And that instantly set off a spiel of alarm bells in his cluttered mind.

“Why? Did she say something to you?” Sebastian said almost in a panic.

“I mean, look at you, Seb. You’re getting frazzled from speculation alone!” Anne exclaimed, as if he’d just proved her point  “No, she hasn’t said anything to me. But do you really want to leave it long enough and risk her being whisked away by someone else?”

Sebastian had recently learned that he absolutely detested that idea.

He learned that he would sooner claw his ears deaf than ever have to endure her being taken away by anybody else.

Not that he had a right to be so dramatic about it, of course. Because people couldn’t be claimed – even if he wished dearly that they could be so. Because she was her own capable witch that had her own fair share of suitors vying for her affection, and Sebastian was (at least at the moment) too cowardly to do anything about it. Because even after all the mental mountains he’d already scaled to admit how fucking enamoured he was by her… he still couldn’t bear say the word love alongside her name. 

But still. Beyond any rational reason he hated the thought of her being with anyone else with an infuriating passion.  

“No.” He admitted.

And maybe that meant Anne was right. 

He had to get his shit together.

“Then, dear brother of mine — a word of advice. And I’m saying this because I love you a stupid amount,” Anne said with a firm pat on his shoulder, “Girls don’t wait forever.”

Dinner had been lovely. They’d been fed all the works; from roast ham to mince pies to Christmas pudding. Sebastian had been surprised that Solomon had brought out all the bells and whistles for them. He couldn’t remember the last time that they’d had a meal so lavish in their humble abode. It must’ve been years. But he gathered that it very likely had to do with their special guests. 

Since Solomon and Anne had done the majority of the heavy lifting with cooking dinner for them, he felt that it would only be fair that he should be the one to endure the surly task of doing the dishes. Which had left Anne gaping in total shock because she knew how fervently Sebastian hated doing the dishes.

“Okay, now you’re truly scaring me. Are you an imposter? Or an impeccably crafted clone?” Anne had teasingly said.

But to his delight (or his horror) the girl wonder had offered to help him.

So that was how Sebastian found himself in the dim kitchen candlelight, standing so closely to the girl that had been plaguing his every thought for the past few weeks. The girl that had been running amok in his tiny, addled brain. His shoulders brushed hers as they did the dishes in the sink. Like the sizzle of fire on an oiled pan or a gulp of caffeine, every little bump made him feel jittery. And there just was something so deeply domestic about this that filled his head with giddiness. 

The smell of soap and sea sponges. The crackle of the fireplace. The muffled chatter from the living room. Her in his sweater. Her sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her gloved hands. Her furrowed brow. Her smooth hair swept back in a clip. 

Her in his home. 

As she washed and wiped the dishes, she sang a pretty hum from her lips. It sounded folksy and merry and absurdly lovely in the lilt of her voice — but he didn’t recognise it. He deduced that it was likely one of those muggle tunes she loved so dearly. And he made a mental note to ask her about it when he was less distressed.

It all suddenly felt very dangerous. Largely because of how easily Sebastian could see himself accepting this as a permanent fixture in his life. How easily he could get used to all of this. And he wouldn’t need to be convinced by any means or measure. In fact he’d grovel, pray, beg whatever god or infallible wizard he needed to make this regular occurrence. A taste of this homeliness was enough for him to fold like a cheap suit. 

It was appalling at how a tiny taste of mundanity was enough to devoid him of his wit.

“So…” she began slyly, “Anne told me an interesting story about you and the Neighbour’s garden.”

He felt himself go stiff, because that cloying tone of her voice did not sound good at all. What on Earth did Anne think that she was doing? God what on Earth did he think he was doing? 

“Something about how you ran stark naked around your neighbour’s garden after a little bender down at the pub? ” She said almost all too innocently. He was shocked at how she managed to say such wicked things with such innocuousness.

He groaned in despair. That was not a story that he had ever wanted her to hear.

“Merlin. You need to stay away from Anne.” Sebastian said brusquely. 

“I thought you wanted us to get along?” She said coyly.

His heart jumped. He swore that he could hear a hint of something wicked in the underbelly of her voice. Was she flirting? Because this certainly sounded like flirting.

And if the shivers that ran down the back of his spine was any indication, it sure fucking felt like flirting too.

“Yes, but not at my expense, obviously.” Sebastian said flatly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” She said with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Fun? Merlin this girl would be the death of him. It was supposed to be Sebastian who flustered her; who said cavalier things that made her blush feverishly and rendered her speechless. It had always worked with the village girls down the stream, or the barmaids in Hogsmeade. But with her — the one girl where it truly mattered — it had never been the case. 

Here she was rendering him a total dunce, and all it took was a coy smile. All this time, Sebastian had thought that she’d been doing it unintentionally. But maybe she’d been doing it more deliberately than she’d let on. And if that was the case…

He wouldn’t survive it.

“You’re becoming more despicable with every passing day.” He retorted wittily, with just enough mirth to appear charming, but not too much as to leave him feeling exposed.

“I did learn from the best.” She replied pointedly and shrewdly.

Admittedly, he felt his chest swell with pride at the idea that she’d learnt it from him.

But before he had the chance to retort, she caught him off guard with a dose of sincerity.

“Thank you for letting me come over this Christmas.” She said quietly, to a backdrop of the running water tap and the clinking of ceramic plates.

She was thanking him so earnestly. And Sebastian wished he could take credit for it. Pretend that he was totally selfless in inviting her into his home — but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be wrong. 

The girl wonder had made it known to him early in the year that she had planned to stay in the castle over Christmas. And when she had first mentioned it several months ago, Sebastian had felt restless — but at the time, he hadn’t known why. 

After months of emotional whiplash, it was safe to say that he now had a clearer idea. 

“Couldn’t let you stay alone in the castle, now could I?” Sebastian said.

“I mean you could’ve.” She joked.

He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. But how else was Sebastian meant to explain that without confessing some degree of his despairing devotion to her? How was he to explain to her that actually, she was doing him this favour? By being here, with him, in the dim corner of his childhood kitchen light. How else was he to explain to her that if she hadn’t, even if she stayed by herself in the hallowed halls of the castle, he’d still be the lonelier one between them?

He couldn’t. So he needed to keep it brief.

“No,” he said surprisingly sincerely, “I really couldn’t.”

And all of a sudden, the weightless atmosphere that once pervaded the room was now gone. The muffled voices from the living room became soft. Even the soreness in his fingers from all the dish-washing dulled. What was left was only the sincerity in his voice now. He hadn’t intended to sound so… honest, but he guessed that she naturally brought it out of him. 

He could only hope that he hadn’t… totally freaked her out.

He turned to look at her, to say something either aloof or wildly charming — but he soon realised that it was a grave mistake. Because suddenly, he was looking right at her, and she was looking right at him. And with one measly look, Sebastian’s chest felt tighter and the air felt thinner.

(This was happening so often, really — you’d think that he would’ve been more accustomed to it all by now.)

Her eyes flicked up to something above them that had caught her attention; but Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to look up — or care in all honesty. Too enraptured by the magnetic pull of her eyes. 

But the next words she uttered out of her lips, he couldn’t have ever ignored: 

“Is that… a mistletoe?” 

Sebastian almost wanted to laugh. Because surely, he had to have misheard.

Because a fucking mistletoe?

But alas, magically above them, a mistletoe sat. In all its almost mocking, prickly glory, a mistletoe was perched on the edge of the hanging kerosene kitchen lamp.  All of a sudden, blood was rushing in his ears, drowning out the rest of the room. All that he could hear was the thunderous pounding thump of his relentless heartbeat banging against his eardrums. 

When Sebastian realised that he hadn’t spoken for a while, he racked his tiny anxious brain for something meaningful, charming, or at least coherent. 

“It… must be Anne’s doing.” Was all Sebastian could say, rather lamely.

Was this Anne’s idea of helping him move along? To make it all go a little faster? Because if that were true, this was the most insane plan he’d ever heard of. And Sebastian was normally the mastermind behind the most ludicrous and most asinine of plans — so trust that he could spot one a mile away.

If he hadn’t loved his sister so dearly, he would’ve banished her out to the neighbour’s cottage for the rest of the night for all the emotional strife she was causing him! If he were to die young from all the heart palpitations this meddling was sure to give him — he’d vow to haunt her endlessly for eternity.

Because coercing the girl that he… had very strong feelings for… into kissing him would not bode well on his conscience. Or his ego. Or his delicately constructed sense of self-worth. In fact it would rather bruise him if she were to kiss him out of some sort of misplaced obligation.

No matter how heavenly he knew it would probably feel.

Sebastian could feel himself literally teetering on the brink of perilous precipice; between what he could do next… but also what he should most definitely not do next.

This was all feeling too loud and too radical for him to bear. How did kissing her suddenly factor into this equation?

… But as if by wicked instinct, his gaze dropped down onto the curve of her lips — and he absolutely loathed himself for it. 

Gods, wouldn’t it be nice to kiss her?

(Another one of those absurd, intrusive thoughts of his.)

He was ready to laugh it off. Tell her that it was just a silly little old thing. Some outdated conventions. They didn’t have to go through with it. In fact, they could spare themselves the embarrassment and never speak of this ever again if she willed it so. 

To his surprise, she replied almost matter-of-factly:

“… Supposedly if we don’t kiss, we’d be doomed to 100 years of misfortune.”

Like a slow sinful poison, he felt his body go numb in shock. Like a match to a barren wick, he felt his mouth go dry. Had he heard right? 

Was she implying what he thought she was implying?

Almost cautiously, he replied, “We wouldn’t want that.” 

It was true, he wouldn’t want that. 100 years of misfortune wouldn’t do him any good in trying to court the girl before him.

“Not at all,” She said as she nodded.

So it was only logical that they had to kiss.

“100 Years is… a long time,” He rationalised.

He almost couldn’t believe the words tumbling out of his mouth. 

“A lifetime long,” She agreed.

Forget what he was saying — why was she encouraging this?

“And I suppose it is tradition,” He justified.

“Right. Tradition.” She clarified.

When she’d put it like that, it seemed entirely sensible. Almost as if doing anything else would be totally irrational. Sebastian normally skewed towards irrationality, because what was life without a little bit of unreasonableness… 

But if she was readily weaving this enticing thread of logic for him — he would obediently surrender to her pull.

Sebastian waited for the punchline. The cruel joke. For her to say she was, “just kidding, of course!” 

But even after what felt like aeons of silence — it never came. He wondered if she could read him. If she knew that he was all unbridled nerves and anticipation in this lanky body of his. All he saw was her, looking straight at him. No distractions, just a firm sense of purpose. And he wondered what was behind her eyes. Was she nervous? Because he was fucking nervous. 

Why didn’t she look nervous?

A lull fell over them, and it was as if they’d reach an impasse. As if it were a silent agreement between two precarious souls.

“So I guess-” He began.

“Right.”

He supposed that was confirmation enough. For him to press on. To take the next step.

But what was the next step? This didn’t come with a fucking manual. How was he to go about kissing the girl that had plagued his every waking thought now that she was all but offering it?

He supposed he just had to take it.

So he did.

He took a daring step forward, and he swore that he could see a slight tremor in her throat. It was tiny, almost imperceivable, but honest to god, it helped him breathe a little. Because it meant that maybe she wasn’t so unbothered by this treacherous proximity as she appeared to be. 

When he looked at her closely and scrutinised every crinkle in her eye, he saw a sliver of something he hadn’t seen before. Something familiar. Like the flicker of a yearning and restlessness he saw so often in himself. In the rounds of her cheeks, he could make out the outline of a growing blush, betraying the effect his closeness had on her.

With every passing second he inched closer, Sebastian could feel something growing inside him. Breaking out in the pit of his stomach like turbulent waves. A feeling he knew would only be quelled if he managed to get his mouth onto hers. Until he knew what every inch of her lips tasted like.

Was he really about to do this?

Sebastian was still holding onto the dishes in the sink. But fuck the dishes. He didn’t have the time to put that shit down. He’d carry the weight of every stupid dish, cup or ceramic bowl if it meant that he’d be able to touch her.  

“Merry Christmas Sebastian.” She whispered.

And what a lovely whisper it was.

Before her hands ever touched him, her voice did. It embraced him everywhere; his arms, down his spine, even in the unknown depths of his heart. He felt his chest melt a little with something warm and soft and so, so pleasant. In this moment, he allowed himself to believe it. Believe that maybe he could be in love with her. Maybe he was already knee-deep in it; buried thousands and thousands of feet below the weight of his burdensome feelings.

And that this love wouldn’t kill him. It wouldn’t hurt him. It wouldn’t be wrong or scary or restricting.

He could love her and still breathe.

She was so close. Just one more step and they’d meet.

Fuck his ego. Fuck his conscience. Fuck his brittle his self-worth. He would fucking kiss her like his entire measly existence depended on it.

It was just on the tip of his tongue. It was right there for the taking. It was—

“Hey, Dessert’s ready—” 

— Ominis?

As quickly as heaven had opened its gates, it had also come crashing down like a train wreck. 

Like a brutal punch to the gut, Sebastian was thrown back into a sobering reality. Ominis’s sharp voice had popped the fragile little bubble they’d temporarily created. 

Wasn’t the universe just fucking cruel?

And as much as he loved his best friend, he had never ever hated him more. Of all the moments that he could’ve chosen to walk in on… this was what he decided on?

Silence hung in the air. The shadow of something that almost happened lingered like a half-spoken sonnet, begging to be finished. Sebastian searched for the right words, searched for clarity in the fog, searched for the will to string his thoughts together — but it all eluded him.

“...Did I interrupt something—”

“N-No!” “Nope.”

Her face was flushed crimson. His was probably no better.

Thank Merlin, Ominis was blind.

As if by magic, they were now a whole metre apart. Now that Sebastian had a taste of closeness, this distance starved him. It felt like a cruel, deprivation 

A heavy silence settled between them, with each second stretching out for what felt like an eternity. Ominis hadn’t seen them, per se — but Sebastian had a feeling that he could sense that he had just ruined… something significant.

Love might not have killed him, but this painfully awkward silence would.

"Right... well. Solomon asked me to get you both," Ominis finally broke the silence, his tone tinged with clear discomfort.

The ambiance dissipated, the moment was gone. Replaced by the ordinary state of affairs they were forced to return to.

“We’ll—” Sebastian began to say with a slight croak, before clearing his throat, “We’ll be right there.”

He couldn’t bear to look at her as he rushed out to the living room, where normalcy awaited him.

There went his bloody chance.

“Ominis, my plan!” Anne said in a rushed whisper as she pulled the blonde boy into an alcove of the small Sallow residence.

He looked back at her guiltily, with only the slightest hint of a grumble, “Well you could’ve told me about the plan ahead of time…”

“We were so close!” Anne said

“I’m sorry…”

——

Notes

GOSH I apologise so deeply for how atrociously long this chapter took!!! It took me so long, even though I've literally had the outline for it from the very early stages of this fic!

But work did not kill me and I have a new chapter for yall <3

I made sure to sprinkle all the good tropes like, the classic wearing his sweater trope, the oh is that a mistletoe? trope, the almost kiss trope!!! AHHHH I hope you guys like it :)

My HC that the only person that can tame Ominis' outta pocket sass is Anne.

I'm so sorry if you guys have been waiting, and if you're still reading THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!

Shoutout to the very very lovely, @wt-fxck @deliciouslyferal @sonicranger1 @spaceyaceface @eleanorstaghart @ithinkweallsing @somethingiswrongwithme @tlnyjoong @musicbecky @oliviajdjarin @intheshadowofthegame @weeb-shitss FOR ALL THE COMMENTS AND THE TAGS!!!!

[eccentricgrace]

Smoke Signals || IronDad

summary: tony feels so incredibly overheated, but if the kid wants to sleep on his shoulder, it'll take the world ending to get him to move.

tags: fluff, platonic cuddles, slight derealization, tony being a good dad

wc: 1,357

cross-posted on wattpad under the same name!

It's nearing twelve in the morning. The temp in the tower's seventeenth floor, remaining in the private living quarters, is a raging seventy-nine degrees Fahrenheit. This kind of heat makes him itchy— there's no reason for it to be that hot indoors, whether it be the middle of autumn or the early winter, it's too damn hot.

Seriously, if he wanted to be in a sauna, he would just go to one. Hell, if he wanted to be boiling in his skin, he'd just book a trip to the other side of the equator, bypass the sauna idea entirely. It's not like he doesn't have the money for a spontaneous vacation.

When he voices these very logical thoughts on temperature and whatnot, he's told this quality officially makes him an old man— and Pepper's feet are cold, yes even with socks on, Tony, so the heater stays cranked up. He sticks on his glasses and scrolls through his phone, and tries to keep the grumps to a minimum.

That isn't too difficult. Especially when Peter comes dawdling into the room, a pair borrowed pyjama pants clinging loosely to his ankles, his NASA shirt disproportionately baggy, and his face all scrunched up from the low lights like he's just woken up from a good nap.

"Kid," Tony greets simply, looking up from his screen. "Up for a midnight snack?"

There's a warmth in his chest, sticking to him like a second skin, seeing the teenager so at home. This had been one of his better ideas; the lab nights. Giving Peter a chance to take a break from his patrolling, something that Tony is learning he needs way more of, and— as May had described to him, over one terse-to-tactful phonecall: giving Peter someone who understands on some level the shit that goes down when aliens and petty thieves get involved in the world's problems.

Sometimes they end up stretching long into the early morning hours, but lately, because Tony's been getting good at this whole 'mentor' thing, he sends him to bed at around eleven. Sometimes earlier if he knows the kid's been dancing around sleep like a cat to a cucumber, which, he had been this week. As soon as Tony caught him yawning today, he wrapped up the session neatly and subtly— or at least he thought so.

To his question, Peter grunts.

His shoulders making a shapeless motion that vaguely resembles a shrug. He trudges into the living room and falls belly-first onto the couch, his face smushing into the cushions.

"Graceful as ever," Tony comments.

Peter grunts again.

"Couldn't find anything in the kitchen?" Tony tries. He wracks his brain back to the last grocery list he made, but he's almost positive that he got actually quite the extensive list of the kid's favourite snacks.

(Frozen pizzas, instant ramen, microwave popcorn, and when those aren't fast enough options, nearly every flavour of chips, yogurt cups, pudding, granola bars, blah blah blah known to the American man. His pantry could become the new poster child for the risks of red dye 40. It's fine though. He doesn't feed him everyday, and he's pretty sure Peter's immune system can take it. Probably.)

Tony brushes the thoughts off, watching with amusement as Peter doesn't even twitch from his spot on the couch. "I could make you something. We both know I'm banned from the oven and the stovetop, but I could manage the microwave. Or a delivery service."

Peter makes a low, grumbly sound into the couch.

Tony waits.

After a moment of what looks like a great, strenuous effort, Peter's chin lifts just long enough for him to mumble something coherent.

"Not hungry."

The voice comes out in a whisper, and the kid sounds tired. Bone-deep, voidly, like how he sounds after a bad patrol. There's an element missing, though. The first lesson Tony learned about Peter was that reading his face is a lot easier and more reliable than listening to his words.

Tony just saw him barely three hours ago, and he was fine. Tired, but fine. Unless something very bad happened in that small window of space that Tony wasn't looking, he doesn't know why Peter would be like some sort of shell.

Tony's eyebrows get this crease in them, and his eyes narrowing an imperceptible amount. He puts his phone beside him, facedown. He's admittedly at a loss for words, which is a state that he famously detests.

A nightmare could seem like a possibility, but it goes back to how the kid was looking. In the rare, terrifying events that Peter's stumbled in to the lab, to the living room, the kitchen, the hallway, after a nightmare, he looked haunted in a way that was impossible to replicate. If Tony paid close enough attention, which he sure as hell did, each time he could see the way Peter trembled in his skin.

Tony is paying very close attention right now, and Peter is entirely motionless. Like a zombie, or a plant waiting for sun.

Still, he clears his throat. "Nightmare?" He asks casually, just in the off chance that he was totally wrong about his observations.

Peter, his face still smushed into the couch, shakes his head. It looks wildly uncomfortable, but still, the message is there. Not a nightmare.

Tony feels smug. Yeah, I thought so. He can't afford to be wrong about things like this.

Even with that victory under his belt, that still leaves the original, more important problem to be deduced— what the hell is wrong with his kid? He needs to know, so he can fix it. Immediately. Like, yesterday, even.

"Can I help you with anything?" Tony tests, throwing caution to the wind. "You just wanna sleep here?"

Peter, if even possible, goes even more still. There's a hesitation that radiates off him, and once again, Tony waits— another thing he's getting good at lately. Patience is a virtue, and all that.

Slowly, Peter turns his face, just so that one cheek is pushing into the couch and he's able to look at Tony. He doesn't, of course. His gaze is unfocused, trained lazily on the coffee table in front of them. It's a step forward, though, so maybe Pepper's whole idea of open communication has some merits.

"Cold," Peter says finally, his nose wrinkled from being smushed. "In my room."

Well, Tony knows that's bullshit. He's basically sweating and he's not even in Pete's bedroom. The whole floor is too hot. Normally he'd tell that outright, but the way Peter says the words like they're a puzzle gives him pause.

There's a correct response to this. He can feel it, some weird sixth sense in his heart, whispering words to him just as easy as it pumps out blood. Tony's good at puzzles. He just needs to find the right pieces.

Peter's hands twitch at his sides restlessly, and he clings to his own shirt. He blinks long and slow. He isn't shivering. He isn't cold. But he looks like he's floating, almost— and that little detail is what makes some of the picture fade in.

"I'm warm. Come sit by me," Tony says easily, lifting his arm. He pats the back of the couch.

Peter's shoulders sag with relief, and wordlessly he clambers up and over, then back down, soaking into Tony's side like a medicine. His hard skull digging into Tony's shoulder, his bony legs and arms all awkwardly twining and twisting to get comfortable like he really is part spider.

Tony immediately feels overheated, from the extra warmth now digging at him, and the stupid heater, still running way too hot. He keeps his mouth firmly shut about both, and easily cards a hand through Peter's hair.

"Better?" Tony murmurs. "Comfy?"

Peter nods into his collarbone, pressing himself closer like a bookmark into the pages of Tony's ribs. He doesn't speak again, so Tony squeezes an arm around him and continues to brush Peter's hair out of his eyes.

There's some kind of bonfire in Tony's soul that's feeding on the apparent warmth. He thinks he could get used to the feeling of fondness, and furthermore, wouldn't mind entirely if it burned him from the inside out— just so long as the teenager in his arms wouldn't be cold.

"Get some sleep, kiddo," Tony murmurs, smoothing his thumb over Peter's eyebrow.

At last, Peter hums, content.

[candiedspit]

GRB 080319B 

For a month, I was a smudge. 

A mute monk in the bathtub, lukewarm water running as dull colors rolled around my head like fractured, aged marbles. Thoughts lost strength before fruition. I called out of work once a week, faked a cough, a car accident, another funeral. When I did make the drive out to the office, I spent most of the time typing a word, deleting the word, and typing the word again. I stopped taking calls. Mary left me beautiful voice messages. I listened to them while I laid on the couch, sprawled out like an active disease, furious tears streaming down my face. I knew it was stupid. A feeling cannot kill you. But then, I was being diminished. I was receding. 

I know you don’t feel well right now. But listen, I have these neighbors who still have their Christmas lights hanging up. It’s April. I sorta hope they leave them up all year round. 

I stayed frozen for a few weeks. 

Vitamin D and herbal teas, coffee and long novels. But then, I can’t explain it. It was Friday afternoon. Just a Friday afternoon. 

It began when I left the office. A slow bloom rose throughout my entire body. 

I noticed how all the buildings stood scraping against the most gorgeous, thin blue of the dying afternoon, rising evening. The wind felt kind. I didn’t go home. I went to the supermarket and held an orange in my hand, feeling the small indents with my thumbs, smelling the bright zest. It was as though everything was real again. That night, I bought a pack of cigarettes. I hadn’t smoked since I was nineteen. But I inhaled and let out a giant laugh at how lightheaded I felt, I walked through the streets like that, laughing and laughing, the laughter like the magician’s scarf being pulled out and out. It was a fantastic feeling. I felt fearless. As though I could scoop the fear and pain and shit out of myself like a pudding. I had capabilities. 

When I got home, I rushed in and had a shot of blueberry vodka and opened the windows and called Mary; she answered within a couple of rings. That gorgeous rodeo clown. I loved her as much as I loved anything. 

I never thought I’d hear your voice again, she said. But this worries me, y’know. How blue was the sky today?

I’m coming to see you, I said. Not tonight. But soon. I’ll stumble on your porch like a speedball. The sky was fantastic. I’m smoking.

Hm, she said. Listen, stay out of trouble. A feeling cannot kill you. I’ll save some tea for you. Come anytime. Come anytime. 

I couldn’t sleep. I played the same image in my mind, again and again. And words fizzed in and out too quickly for me to catch them. A church of nukes. Do you understand what you are signing? Perfume made of whale semen. Dominoes. 

In the morning, I could feel the angels looking over me. I imagined them like teenagers, shooting the shit, smoking and coughing and pointing. I spent the weekend in bars, meeting everyone on earth. A woman with a strong russian accent who told me the world was going down the toilet and we were all there for the ride. A man who asked me for three cigarettes and then told me he had coke if I wanted some. I spread a little on my gums. But it was a fifteen minute headache, it had nothing on the feeling within me, the glow which propelled and drove me around. I fucked the russian woman. 

I called out of work for the week, claimed I’d contracted HIV and needed time to grieve. I felt awful about the lie. It was ridiculous. But anything could happen. And I wasn’t wasting my time at a computer when I could see patterns in the streets. I wore a long, leather coat and wrapped it around my waist. And beneath, a black thong strung across my hips. I felt like a machine, I felt electric as I walked through the advertisement pus of Times Square, a cigarette beneath my teeth. I rode the trains for hours, befriending the other passengers. And for a moment, I forgot my address. It was nine in the morning. It was the middle of the night. I got nervous anytime I saw a police officer; there was a criminal in my heart. What was I doing? 

I went down to the village to visit Mary as promised. I felt breathless, sensitive to light. I was tired. It’d been years since sleep. I felt as though I was dying. A star exploding in reverse. Mary would know what to do. 

I knocked on her door and she answered as quick as she answered the phone. I smelled her vanilla scent. It made me nauseous. But I was so glad to see her; so glad she was there. I dated Mary for eight years. There was nobody on earth who knew me better than she did. 

You don’t look great, she said. Are you eating?

Not really, I told her as i walked into her apartment. I feel like I need a touch up. My engine is black. I’m running out of oil. I think I lost my job. I don’t know what day it is. 

It’s Saturday, she said. Three in the afternoon. It’s May and spring is here. Have a seat. 

I sat on her couch. 

I think I’ve been hexed, I said. A spell has been put on me. A poison. 

You’ve been here before, she said. Remember? That arrest in Ohio? Disturbing the peace? And the outburst in the museum. Banned from the gas station. A wild iris in your eyes. A desire for mountains. The call is coming from inside the house, Adam.

Mary gave me a cherry tart. I ate half of it and began to weep. Mary gave me a sleeping tablet. And when I woke up, I was horrified. 

When I got home, Mary had left me a voicemail. I laid down naked on the floor and listened. 

You’re a wife with cold feet. Shivering in the dressing room. You’re an astronaut grazing the face of the moon, blind to the wars on earth. You’re brave. You’re pathetic. You go to the amusement park to weep. You walk out onto the avenue to dance. You sneak into a club. And you feel nothing when the band plays, the gilded brass and vulgar scatting. 

And maybe you deserve it. 

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 781 talisen / reader ꒱ Can i request a mango pudding? How about the reader learning sign language for zhào talisen (781), in secret, and surprising him with it (eventhough he can hear now)? Hope that's not silly or anything but the thought has been stuck in my head! ^-^

𖹭. content warnings◞  none! . 0.4k

𖹭. receipts◞  this is such a cute idea hhhh

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

You saw him sitting there in the bedroom, his face down in his poetry book, hand scribbling words into it as per usual — words that could change the world if he released the poetry he made, but alas.

And the first thing you do to alert him of your presence is unlike the usual call for his name, chirping happily through the dorm. No, this time, instead, you put your index and middle finger onto the lightswitch and flick the lights twice.

your boyfriend jolts up in his seat, looking up and turning his face to the left to look over his shoulder to spot you.

with a questioning look, and a small tilt of his head, he smiles at you and turns his body in the chair fully, elbow slung over the edge.

“yes, my love? where is the usual chime of my name?” he hums out and awaits you to speak to him.

but when you do speak, you do it with your hands, signing to him: ‘well I wanted to, first of all, tell you, that I love you.’

Watching as he stiffens in his chair for a moment, stunned to the core of his soul. He slowly stands up, hand still gripping onto the chair, while his face has twisted into pure shock and wonder, lips slightly parted and eyes big and droopy.

‘and then second, I wanted to show you what I have been learning.’ you sign once more and smile brightly at him, before signing once more: ‘for you.’

tears begin welling up in his eyes, but not those akin to sadness. His hands shake and his lips tremble into a smile.

“o-oh. . .” he sighs and begins signing to you himself: ‘how long have you been doing this, baby?’

a small chuckles escapes your lips as you take a step towards him and signs again: ‘well it took a bit, but, it was worth learning. Despite knowing you can hear, I wanted to learn it for you. Because I know how special it is.’ you sign back in response.

His arms immediately extend to wraps around you and pull you close, body shivering from the overwhelm of the situation. He is above ecstatic but also at the same time a little confused — but all of this is so very appreciated.

“thank you baobei. . . thank you” he whispers, voice cracking at the end of it.

“Always gege, let’s sign a bit more with each other?”

“Let us.”

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓����𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[liaromancewriter]

The Haunting of Edenbrook

Premise: It’s All Hallow’s Eve, and something wicked lingers in the air of Edenbrook Hospital’s hallowed halls.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); feat. Bryce Lahela, Jackie Varma Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff Words: 1,400

A/N: Submission for @choicesprompts Flufftober prompt "Embarrassing Secret Revealed" and @choicesholidays Halloween. I'm also using @choicesflashfics week 56, prompt 3.

The October sky raged, dark and churning, echoing the turmoil of a sea in a tempest. Every once in a while, the skies erupted, and a brilliant streak of lightning would illuminate the city. It was a night made for things that went bump in the night.

Witches and ghosts roamed free in the dark shadows, floating above the cobblestone streets of Boston that glistened in the pale. As the clock neared midnight, church bells tolled in eerie harmony, their rhythmic clanging calling all the lost souls home.

Thunder rattled the windows of Edenbrook Hospital’s cafeteria, and a fleeting glow of a lightning bolt forked across the horizon. For a split second, Cassie Valentine thought she saw something streak across the black sky, but she blinked, and it was gone.

She glanced warily at the storm raging outside and wondered if the Emergency Department would be calling for reinforcements. She hoped people had the good sense to stay inside on a night like this.

But it was Halloween, and Boston was a college town. College students weren’t exactly known for playing it safe, she thought with a heavy sigh.

The overhead lights in the cafeteria flickered, and she hoped the hospital wouldn’t lose power.

“You know hospitals have backup generators, right?” Jackie Varma mocked, and Cassie realized she’d spoken the words out loud. “Why so antsy, Valentine?”

She ignored her roommate’s jibe and looked away from the stormy scene outside. “I hate working nights.”

“Welcome to the intern life,” Bryce Lahela called out. He plopped down on the seat across from her and handed her a pudding cup. “Scared of the dark?”

The surgical intern was part of her friend group, so she didn’t mind his glib attitude, just like she was getting used to Jackie’s occasional surliness and cutting remarks.

“Of course not,” Cassie huffed, but Bryce smirked, clearly not believing her.

In the dim light, Bryce leaned in and whispered, “Haven’t you heard? Once upon a time, in between the world wars, Edenbrook used to be a mental hospital. They housed the most dangerous patients on the tenth floor, where the path lab is now.”

He slowly licked his spoon. “They say it’s haunted. Years ago, on a night much like this one, with a storm raging across the harbor, a fire broke out. In their hurry to escape the raging flames, the staff forget about those locked in padded cells above.”

Bryce paused dramatically, his gaze turning inward as he stared at the darkness beyond. Jackie snickered, but Cassie felt dread rising at what was to come.

“The legend goes that nurses hear phantom footsteps in the hallways and icy chills grip rooms,” his voice dropped further, and Cassie leaned forward, her forehead almost touching his. “On All Hallow’s Eve, at midnight, you can hear their sorrowful wails echoing, searching endlessly for a way out.”

Thunder clapped outside, and Cassie jumped in her seat, a shriek escaping her lips. Bryce burst into laughter.

“You should’ve seen your face, Valentine,” Jackie chuckled, giving Bryce a high-five. “Who knew you were such a scaredy cat?”

Sick of being made fun of, Cassie grabbed her tray, pushed back her chair and stalked off, Bryce and Jackie’s laughter echoing behind her.

She started for the staircase, but the creepy feeling from Bryce’s ghostly tale still lingered, and she detoured instead toward the elevator bank. The hallways were quiet this time of night, and she hunched her shoulders as she waited.

Sensing something behind her, she glanced over her shoulder, only to relax when it was clear. But the feeling lingered, and she quickly jumped inside when the doors slid open.

“Dammit!” She noticed the elevator was heading up instead of down. “Great,” she muttered, watching the numbers change as she leaned against the cold, steel wall.

When the elevator slowed its ascent after the ninth floor, her dread returned.

“Please don’t stop at ten. Please don’t stop ten,” Cassie prayed, even as the car stopped and the doors slid open, inch by slow inch.

Cassie almost screamed at the sight of a tall figure standing in the shadowed hallway. And then he stepped forward into the light, and she slumped in relief.

“H-hi, Dr. Ramsey,” she said, her voice strangled by the thought of phantoms roaming the dim hallways stretching behind him.

No wonder Dr. Wen, the chief of pathology, was always jumpy. She would be, too, if she had to work on this floor every day.

Ethan Ramsey nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t step into the elevator. Instead, he quirked one eyebrow. “In or out, Valentine? I haven’t got all night.”

Cassie realized he was waiting for her to exit. “I’m not getting off,” she said, “I got on the wrong elevator by accident.”

He mumbled something about interns under his breath and crossed the threshold before the doors slid shut. Pressing the button for his floor, he looked back expectantly at her.

“Four,” she sputtered, gripping the railing behind her.

Cassie didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until the doors slammed shut.

“How come you’re here so late?” she asked as the elevator began its descent.

“Gee, Valentine, I had no idea I reported to you now,” he said, sarcasm dripping from each word.

That shut her up, and she went back to staring at the numbers above the door.

Ethan’s cologne filled her senses. The subtle scent reminded her of summer nights after a rainstorm washed the world clean. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and she felt a spark of electricity crackle in the air. It was always thus when he was near.

She wondered if she’d ever get over this ridiculous crush. She was competing for a spot on his team, and whatever this…thing was between them couldn’t go anywhere.

There was no denying Ethan Ramsey had sex appeal oozing from his pores. She was likely just horny, Cassie reasoned. Maybe she should give the dating apps another try. If she scratched that itch, she could stop fantasizing about the man who held the fate of her career in his beautiful, long-fingered hands.

Cassie felt his gaze upon her and slid her eyes sideways. There was something indescribable in his blue eyes as he watched her. Her brows furrowed as she tried to decipher it, but his face became inscrutable when he caught her spying.

“You seem jumpier than usual,” he commented as an uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

“I’m just not a fan of that floor,” Cassie mumbled.

“And?” he prompted when she didn’t say anything more.

“I guess I hadn’t heard about Edenbrook’s past before, and it spooked me,” she shrugged.

“What on earth are you talking about, Rookie?” Ethan said, brows beetling in confusion.

“You know, the fire when the hospital was a mental asylum, the patients that died,” Cassie explained. “On the tenth floor?”

Ethan stared at her as if she’d grown two horns, and then his face cleared. His laughter boomed in the air, and Cassie realized it was very much at her expense.

“And when exactly did this gruesome incident occur?” he asked as the elevator stopped at his floor.

“Bryce said it was sometime in the nineteen thirties,” Cassie said, wondering why Ethan didn’t know this.

“Edenbrook was founded in the late nineteen sixties as a teaching hospital, and only a teaching hospital,” Ethan emphasized the latter. He stepped off the elevator and turned to face her. “In case you missed the plaque hanging on a wall in the atrium.”

“Oh,” Cassie said, embarrassed beyond belief. Now that he mentioned it, she had seen the sign in her first week and even remarked on it with Sienna and Elijah.

“I’m afraid I may have made a mistake with you,” Ethan drawled, deceptively calm, placing his hands on the sensors to stop the doors from closing. “Gullible residents have no place on my team.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Ramsey,” Cassie muttered, a flush spreading up her neck. “I’ll do better.”

“See that you do, Dr. Valentine,” Ethan shook his head in exasperation and released the doors.

The last thing Cassie saw before the elevator doors closed was Ethan chuckling as he walked away. She inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring as his lingering scent filled her senses, and she sighed wistfully.

Crushing on Ethan Ramsey was a recipe for disaster. The man was trouble with a capital T.

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @hopelessromantic1352 @mrs-ramsey @youlookappropriate @zealouscanonindeer

[mementos-of-me]

Evermore

Chapter 7. If we survived the Great war

Masterlist

Previous chapter

Hello hello! Chapter 7 friends

Following this chapter Evermore is going to be Pietro central, so I hope you all enjoy, so much flirting and arguing to come x

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: BFF Anna, angst, injuries, PTSD, proof Tony Stark has a heart

My vision was foggy when my eyes opened once more. The slow rhythm of a monitor beeping filled my ears as I glanced around the room, it wasn’t a hospital, but it definitely wasn’t the Avengers Tower either. My attention was piqued by the sound of a door opening and closing.

“Welcome back,” Anna murmured, a soft smile coming to sit on her face. “You gave us all quite the scare.” I shifted in the bed, attempting to sit up. “Just take it slow, Nads, you’re on a lot of pain meds and you don’t want to pop a stitch.”

I thanked her for the cup of water she handed me. “Where are we?”

“The new Avengers compound. You passed out on the lifeboat; the medics took care of you on board, but you’ve been out since then. Helen Cho worked her magic on you when you got back here.” The moment the water hit my lips it became apparent just how thirsty I was, it was as if I’d been walking through the Sahara for days, my throat dry and torn. “You know a text would have been nice. Didn’t need to be long, just a simple ‘hey Anna heading off to save the world talk to you later’.” I smiled into the cup at her taunting tone. “I mean here I am kicking back in Istanbul, and I get a call from Natasha saying you’re bleeding out in bloody Sokovia.”

My body felt light, as though it were floating. I guessed it was the medication. “Well, I did not want to disturb you, miss superspy.” She rolled her eyes, flipping me her middle finger as she dropped into the seat beside the bed. “I’m sorry, next time a robot man is intent on global destruction I’ll send you an email.”

“Please do!” I snorted at her, resting my head back against the crisp white pillows. “I missed you, smartass. The fiercely independent thing is fine, all I ask is the odd update so I know you’re still breathing, really any sign of life would be much appreciated.”

“Ugh, you people with all your emotions.” I teased, keeping my eyes closed. She huffed in feigned annoyance at my words. “I will try to keep you updated.” I popped a single eye open to watch her roll her eyes and smile at me gently. “How is your peculiar little rat?”

She shook her head at me, a scowl taking over her expression. “By that, I assume you mean my Pomeranian?” I hummed in response prompting her to sigh exasperatedly before telling me how the little creature was faring. “You can pretend to disdain George all you want but I’ve seen you giving him treats and spoiling him with pets.”

“Poor little Georgie, I feel bad for the beast, he is so tiny. Like a little doll, all of the other dogs will bully him.”

We continued like this for a while, catching up on life, at least as much as we could with her MI6 confidentialities and my innate displeasure in sharing my secrets. It was nice, to hear Anna’s voice, to have her here. She was the first person whom I’d found comfort in the presence of. There was safety with her, that is what our friendship was built on. Although, friendship did seem an inadequate word for our kinship. Family was what we had called it over the years, though even now that still seemed such a foreign concept it made my skin crawl each time, I lingered on the thought too long.

“You know you really did give us a scare, Nads.” I nodded at her, poking at the chocolate pudding that had been given to me. The first time I had one of these I was 21 and it was at the hospital in New York whilst I sat at Anna’s bedside after she’d had a particularly tough assignment. At the time I had been disgusted by the thought of this strange brown, custardy substance, even when I tried it, I found myself turned off by the thought of what ingredients went into making the uniquely American delicacy. However, they’d grown on me over the years. “Each of the Avengers have been in to see you that many times it’s becoming a little silly. Thor left you those before heading home.” She nodded toward an egregiously large bouquet of flowers. I bit back a smile at the thought of him purchasing that. What a very odd person. God. Whatever. “Nat got you something as well, she said she left it in your room…” The way Anna spoke then immediately made me suspicious. There was something she wanted to say, something on the tip of her tongue that she was biting back.

I raised an eyebrow at her but still she remained silent, swallowing down what might have been a laugh. “For God’s sake, just spit it out.”

“It’s nothing… I was just saying how you worried us… all of us.” I narrowed my eyes at her. She was trying extremely hard not to laugh now, I could tell. “That Maximoff boy, particularly.” She could no longer stop herself as a little giggle slipped out.

A sigh of utter exasperation came from me as she continued to laugh. “I am not sure what is so funny, Anna. What do I care of that infuriating prick?”

She grinned at me. “He’s been here more than anyone else. Honestly, I wasn’t sure he’d leave your side until I told him to piss off and take a shower.” I rolled my eyes at her. “Seriously he wouldn’t stop pacing around the room, I thought he was gonna wear a hole through the floor.”

I could not believe this woman. “Good for him.”

“He’s cute.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” I muttered shoving a heaping spoonful of pudding into my mouth and attempting a nonchalant shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at me, but I simply avoided her gaze. “Are you sure?” I did not like her tone.

“He is a terrorist.”

“No one’s perfect.” I gaped at her implication, her gaze remained set on me, unwavering. It was not okay with me that she felt she could see through me so easily. “Plus, I wouldn’t really call him a terrorist, an idiot? Maybe, but he joined the Avengers in the end so…” She shrugged, stealing a spoonful of pudding from me.

“You are beginning to piss me off now.”

She only laughed again, taking another spoonful of the chocolatey goodness. “Why because I’m right and you’re saying the exact same thing in your head?”

I opened my mouth to disagree but before I could get the words out her phone began ringing, cutting me off. She pulled up a bag from beside her feet, laying it on the end of the bed. “I’m so sorry, I have to get this. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.” I nodded, gesturing for her to go.

Unfortunately, I was not left alone for very long as Dr. Cho came in to check on me. “I am feeling much better now, can I go?”

She breathed a laugh, checking over the machine and taking a quick look under the bandage at my hip. “You’ll be fine to leave whenever you’re ready, Nadia. The wound looks far better already.”

“Great. I do not want any of the special medicine either, just give me the basics, nothing that affects my consciousness.”

“I would recommend taking something stronger for the pain, your body can heal without the medication, but you’d be putting yourself through so much unnecessary pain. You sustained a lot of damage, there’s no shame in taking something a little stronger.”

I pulled the blankets off of my legs, swinging them over the side of the bed. Within the bag, Anna had left was a clean set of clothes for me to change into. “I’ve had worse. I’ll be fine. Thank you, Dr Cho.”

She shook her head and sighed quietly, handing me two little bottles. “It’s your choice, I’m giving you something stronger as well just in case.” I took the bottles and tossed them into the bag, ignoring her look of frustration. “All right, well keep an eye on the wound and come back in a couple of days so I can check the healing progress.”

When I was alone again, I slipped into the small bathroom attached to the med bay, pulled off the hospital gown, and stepped into the shower. Most of the blood had been wiped from me though there was still quite a lot, alongside all sorts of dirt and debris which clung to me. The water ran black and red as it swirled down the drain, taking with it the stress and agonies of my time in Sokovia. A deep ache set into my muscles as the medication began to wear off, bringing me to a crisper consciousness where pain lay in wait.

I left the medical wing, swallowing down the agony that seared in my body as I wandered aimlessly down the unfamiliar hallway. The compound was quite fancy, not that it surprised me, Stark did have a flare for that kind of thing. Glass panes surrounded me, glossy floors which the light bounced off of.

“Hey, kid!” I glanced over my shoulder to see the man himself approaching me. “Glad to see you’re back on your feet, come on I’ll show you your new room.” He walked beside me, keeping pace with my pained, slightly slower stride. “What do you think of the new place? Nice huh? I thought the windows made it a little reminiscent of the tower, plus you know light and all that good stuff.” The end of his sentence came swiftly, almost as if he were glossing over the words as he spoke to them, he glanced at me so briefly it was almost unnoticeable.

“Yes, it’s… it’s nice, different to the tower, but nice.”

He nodded quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, definitely. Less light pollution out here though.” I remained silent as he showed me to my new room. It was spacious and the walls were white. Not sterile, hospital-white, rather a softer, warmer white that made it feel open. A large, plush bed sat in the middle of a wall, surrounded by side tables, and in the corner sat an empty bookshelf and a desk but none of these things were what held my attention. There was a whole wall lined with beautiful glass windows, the sun trickling through to bathe the furniture in warmth. I stepped toward them, holding a hand out to let the rays of sun engulf my flesh. “It’s a lot of light I know, but I had controls installed to tint the windows as much or as little as you want. All with the click of this remote.” He held up a little white controller. “They can go completely blackout, or you can just dim it, they’re also one-sided so you can see out, but no one can see in.” He spoke the way he always did, with that cool disposition that made him seem untouchable. He spoke as if it were nothing, when to me, this meant more than he’d ever know.

A picture frame sitting on the bedside table caught my attention, it was simple but nice, inside lay a photograph of Natasha and me. I picked it up to examine it closer, it was the night Ultron had attacked us in the Avenger’s tower when Nat had insisted we take a picture together before the party. Stuck to the top corner of the frame was a pink Post-it note.

What could be more you than your own face?

As I gazed into the glass encasing the image, I was able to see my own reflection staring back at me. I was smiling and my eyes were watery. Quickly placing the picture back down on the nightstand I looked at the roof, pretending to be stretching my neck as I took a deep breath.  “You asked me what she showed me.” I finally spoke after a few long moments.

He asked what I meant.

“You asked me what the witch showed me, in the shipyard.” I turned to face him then.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I don’t, and I’m not going to either. Not now.” He raised an eyebrow at me. I exhaled deeply before continuing. “The place where I was raised… it was dark, and it was cold all the time and there was never music. For most of my life, that was what I knew, cold, dark, silence.” I could feel his gaze on me, but I did not meet it. “I don’t mind the light pollution in New York because it means that it is always light. I like the sound of the traffic because when I wake up during the night, there is sound. I asked you for a room with windows so that I always know, I am not in that place.” I shook my head. “Not anymore.”

There was silence again then. We stood facing each other but not meeting each other’s gaze, sitting in a silence that was surprisingly comfortable. He nodded. “Okay.” It was a word atop an exhale. A word that was simple, but in that moment, it had weight. It was an acknowledgement and it meant something to me. He turned to the door, placed the little remote on the desk, and took a step forward.

“Tony.” Both of us froze at the sound of my voice. In all the years that I’d known this man, I had never once called him by his first name. “You are a mad scientist, and sometimes a bit of a prick.” He smiled sheepishly, furrowing his eyebrows slightly at my words. “But you are also a good man, a man who saved the world. Thank you.�� I looked toward the beams of sunlight streaming through my windows.

“I’ll see you around, Nads.” He spoke, turning to leave. Before he stepped out of the room, I saw the way his lips curved upward, it brought a soft smile to my own face.

…

Anna did come back, just as she said she would. She had to board a flight back to England to report to MI6 before leaving again for her next assignment. It was a busy life, one that we had in common. “You know sometimes I think maybe I should’ve chosen MI6 over S.H.I.E.L.D. Then I would not have to contend with jaded AI and near doomsday events on a weekday.”

She laughed. “It would be nice to get to see you more often.” She wrapped me in her warm embrace and for a moment I tensed, but then it was Anna, and it was okay. She exhaled softly, shaking her head as she pulled away with a small, earnest smile. “No... Superhero suits you better.”

I narrowed my eyebrows at her, an amused smile spreading across my lips. “Look after yourself.”

“No, you look after yourself.” She spoke, her tone shifting to a scolding one, like an older sister. “I mean it.” She added, pointing at me.

When she was gone, and it was quiet I slipped into the large bed facing the windows. For a while, I just watched the intricate patterns drawn on the marble floors by the sun trickling in. “J.A.R.V.I.S… are you there?” I spoke into the room, feeling a little silly for the bubble of hope in my chest. For a moment there was silence, and I was almost embarrassed, of course, he was not there, J.A.R.V.I.S was installed into the red man they called Vision.

“Hello, Nadia. My name is F.R.I.D.A.Y, Mr. Stark has installed me in the Avengers compound now that J.A.R.V.I.S has left.” It was a woman’s voice, she was Irish. “Perhaps I can help?”

I swallowed heavily. “It is very quiet in here...” My words trailed off, I did not know what to say and it felt stupid and weak now.

“The previous Avengers tower was soundproof also so J.A.R.V.I.S emitted quiet cityscape sounds into your room. Would you like me to do this as well?” Her voice was gentle and non-judgmental.

“Yes. Yes, please.”

 The moment I’d finished my sentence the low hum of traffic, wind, and life streamed into the room. “Of course, is there anything else I can help with?”

I lowered myself, resting my head back on the plush pillows and snuggling into the duvet. “No thank you… F.R.I.D.A.Y.” She told me I was welcome and then she was gone. I dimmed the windows slightly, just enough that the sun wasn’t blaring but I could still see out. As soon as I was comfortable, I rolled onto my side.

I couldn’t sleep on my back, not anymore. It was odd to feel incapable of such a mundane thing. In support group, they call things like that a trigger. I’d never found a better term for that feeling that occurs in the dead of night when the room is still, and I am on my back with my eyes closed. It’s the feeling of my legs in stirrups, needles injecting me with a drug that made me feel as though I were underwater. My muscles turned to mush, and my body was stolen from me. Parts that were supposed to be mine. Proof that nothing belonged to me in the Red Room.

I tended to favor side sleeping.

…

When my eyes opened, I was bathed in darkness. I could feel sweat pricking at the back of my neck and my heart was thumping quickly in my chest. Taking a long, deep breath I closed my eyes and focused. The hushed sound of traffic enveloping me, my heart slowed slightly, and I reopened my eyes, snatching the remote and turning the dimmer off on the windows to reveal the silver glow of moonlight. After a while, the air began flowing smoothly into my lungs and my heart returned to its normal rhythm, the sweat dried and I was okay.

I took my time walking to the kitchen, creating a mental map of the compound as I went. It did not take me long to realize that the red was gone, no longer sitting in the corner of my vision, taunting me. I remained vigilant nonetheless, awaiting it’s return so it could not catch me by surprise. Before I turned the corner into the room, I was presuming was the kitchen based on the sound of voices and the sizzling of food in a pan, I leaned against the wall, cradling my wounded side and taking a deep breath. It hurt, a lot. I was only taking the weak painkillers Dr. Cho had given me, none of the stronger medicines, and I was paying the price. My body ached all over and my stomach had begun to cramp from the lack of sustenance. After another moment of rest, I pushed off the wall and made my way into the kitchen. There was a large island bench lined on one side by stools and a dining table across from it. Natasha sat at the island talking to Cap, who was stirring something in a pot at the stove. A glance at the table revealed Vision and the Maximoff twins talking amongst themselves.

“Nads, you’re awake.” Nat beamed when she spotted me causing all eyes in the room to land on me. I raised an eyebrow at her, glancing at Steve when he turned to face me, a novelty apron with the words ‘kiss the chef’ inscribed across the front, wrapped around his body.

“I was wondering if you’d be joining us tonight.” He spoke up offering me a warm smile. “You must be hungry, I’m made some soup, I’m not much of a cook but it smells decent so...”

I ignored the gaze of the enhanced twins, particularly the remorseful look that Wanda gave me and the concerned one her brother supplied. “Nice apron,” I murmured, walking to sit at the end of the dining table as far from Wanda and Pietro as possible. A snort came from Nat and an exasperated sigh from Cap at my comment.

“It was the only one that was here, and I didn’t want to spill on myself.” He mumbled, his tone suggesting that I wasn’t the first to comment on his choice of cooking attire. A moment after I’d sat down there was a bowl of steaming soup placed before me by Steve, followed by a glass of ice water from Natasha beside two little white pills which I assumed were painkillers. I raised an incredulous eyebrow at the two of them as they sat on either side of the table with their own meals.

“What’s with the table service?” The two of them shrugged as if they weren’t sure what I’d meant. I sipped the water before scooting forward to begin eating when I realized I didn’t have a spoon, bracing my hands on the arms of the chair to push myself up. Yet, before my chair was even far enough from the table for me to stand a streak of blue and silver whizzed by. A spoon sitting in front of me before my mind even had time to comprehend what was happening. Glancing down the table to see Pietro seated, casually, as if he’d never left. My eyes narrowed at him from my seat before I glanced back to Nat and Steve who were barely touching their food as they pretended not to be focused on me. I picked up the spoon hesitantly. “Is this because I almost died?” I taunted, causing Natasha to shoot me a sharp glare.

“That’s not funny, Nadia.”

I put my hands up in surrender before beginning to eat. “Geez, tough crowd.” It was almost unbearable to know that I was being surveyed so heavily by the other people in the room, though there was something about it that prompted a warm feeling in my chest, not that I’d ever admit it. “This soup is actually very good; have you been taking cooking classes in your spare time?” I broke the silence, glancing at Steve.

“Actually, I found the recipe on the line.”

“The line?”

Nat bit back a grin, glancing at me. “The web.”

I gasped at that. “You used the internet, all by yourself.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, very funny. Yes, I used the internet. I don’t particularly like it, but I must admit it was actually nice, this woman spoke about how the recipe was passed down from her great-grandmother.” Natasha and I shared a look at his admission, evidently, he had chosen to read the entire biography section of the recipe before making this soup.

The smile that sat across my face was hard to shake, try as I might. “Thank you for the food,” I spoke quietly as I continued eating. The overzealous service caretaking continued when I’d finished eating, my dish was cleared before I’d had the chance and my water was refilled. “Honestly, it was 1 bullet, for God’s sake. I am perfectly capable of walking to the bench.”

“Well, you don’t need to, I’m already doing it for you,” Natasha spoke, giving me a pointed look as she stacked the dishwasher. I rolled my head back to hang over the back of my seat in exasperation.

“You’re not going to take the medicine?” A voice piped up causing a wave of irritation to pass over me.

I lifted my head slowly, a lethal look in my eyes as they met his clear blue ones. “Whatever for? I am not in pain.”

“You took a bullet and shrapnel to the side but you’re not in any pain? Of course, this does not sound like you are trying to prove anything at all.”

 A hush fell over the room at his response. When I spoke again my tone was glacial. “I thank you for your concern, but it takes a little more than 1 bullet and some itty-bitty pieces of metal to kill me.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Perhaps next time the two of you decide to team up with a deranged metal man to kill the Avengers you will keep this in mind.” It was facetious and it was mean, but the words seemed to come from me before I had the chance to stop them.

Wanda swallowed heavily, her sullen gaze falling on the table then. My words silenced Pietro but did not have the intended effect. I’d anticipated anger from him, some nasty words in return but instead all I saw across his face was remorse; it sickened me.

After dinner, Natasha had insisted on showing me around the rest of the compound as I’d been too tired earlier to have a full tour. “That was a little harsh earlier, Nads.”

I asked her what she meant, though I heard my previous words echo in my mind the moment she’d spoken.

“I’m not going to stand here and defend the twins; they made a stupid choice and a lot of people ended up getting hurt.” I was silent as she spoke. “You know what? You’re right, Nadia. It is their fault.”

My eyes widened as I looked over at her, stopping abruptly in my track. “Wh-what? That is not what I said.”

“They killed those people, what happened in Sokovia is their fault.”

I shook my head, unable to believe her words. She did not believe that. “Natasha, what are you talking about?”

“I’m with you, Nads, they should feel terrible, all that blood is on their hands.”

“No, it isn’t!” The way my voice sounded surprized me; I’d never spoken to Nat like that. “It’s not their fault, they were just doing what they thought was right, they were trying to protect those people.” My chest rose and fell rapidly.

A slow, knowing smile spread across Natasha’s lips. The moment it appeared I realized what she was doing, recognized it. A scowl took over my face immediately. “Well, that was surprisingly easy.” I rolled my eyes at her, crossing my arms over my chest. “I honestly wasn’t sure if I’d break you, it’s never been that easy before, you must really care about them.”

I huffed exasperatedly, turning sharply on my heel, and walking away from the smug redhead. “Fuck off, honestly.”

Thank you so much for reading xx

[fateinthestars]

Star Crossed Myth Advent Calendar 2024 Fanfic: Day Eleven - A Star to Remember (Krioff/MC)

(Fanfic Advent Calendar for 2024 using this prompt list from creativepromptsforwriting)

Title: Day Eleven - A Star to Remember

Pairing: Krioff/MC (MC's name left blank so you can fill it in with whatever you wish in your head)

Characters: Krioff, MC

Word Count: 844

Rating: T

Prompt: Stars

Summary: Krioff would literally move the stars for MC and has a very special gift in mind for this Christmas

A/N: Implied spoilers for Krioff's Sequel Story

A Star to Remember (Krioff/MC)

When  ____ met Krioff after she had finished work, she frowned a little at how distracted he seemed. “Krioff? Nothing’s wrong is it?”

“... No,” Krioff muttered, looking at her oddly. “Should there be?”

“No, it’s just you seemed like you were thinking about something.”

“Oh. Don’t let that bother you.” He forced himself to relax into a smile and took his glove off before offering her his hand. “Shall we?”

Smiling, ____ nodded and took his hand in hers, feeling Krioff’s welcoming warmth envelop her hand.

“Where exactly is this place you mentioned?”

Walking with Krioff, ____ showed him the way to a new ice cream parlour she had heard about. It was rather an odd time of year for a new one to open but they seemed to be making up for that by offering special festive ice cream flavours such as Christmas pudding or cranberries.

Once they had got their ice creams, they walked slowly back towards her apartment, taking in the sights as they did so. They barely spoke a word between them but there was nothing that really needed to be said as they enjoyed their ice cream, each other’s company, and the festive lights around them.

It was only once they got nearer to ____’s apartment that Krioff started to slow down and seemed to be rather tense once more.

Having now finished her ice cream, ____ let go of his hand and turned to face him. “Okay. Something is clearly bothering you. Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“... Perhaps it is better I show you,” Krioff muttered. “That alright?” He added, his voice a little unsure as he joined hands with her once more and raised his other one.

Realising he was asking for permission to teleport them, ____ smiled softly and nodded.

Krioff smiled back and snapped his fingers.

When they reappeared, ____  suddenly grabbed tightly hold of Krioff as she realised they were now standing in the sky. “You could have warned me you meant in the air!”

“... Sorry. I thought I had?”

____ took a deep breath and forced a smile to wave away the apology. “Thanks. Why exactly are we…” she trailed off as he nodded to the sky behind her. Carefully turning around, her eyes widened at the cluster of bright stars that were in the shape of a heart. “I don’t recall this constellation,” she muttered, “are we near a new one or something? You normally know the names of star clusters well, or is this something you did for me?”

“It’s both,” Krioff muttered. “The name of these stars is ____ .”

Her eyes widening, ____ turned sharply round to him. “W-what? These are named after me? And they’re permanent?”

“Yeah.”

____  blinked. “Are you allowed to fiddle with the stars like that?”

Krioff frowned. “How do you mean?”

“Well isn’t there something to do with the balance of the worlds and the alignment of the stars? And leaving that aside how is this going to be explained on Earth?”

“Oh,” Krioff muttered, relaxing into a smile as he finally latched onto what was worrying her. “I made sure everything was above board if that’s what you’re worried about. As to Earth… well… I expect they’ll come up with a different name for it, but we gods all know the real name for it.”

“Krioff…” ____ choked, her voice full of love. However, her smile faded a little as she realised he was still standing a little awkwardly. “If this is all above board why are you so unsettled? I love this! Thank you,” she added, just in case it was just concern that she hadn’t liked the surprise. As the other glanced to the side, she sighed softly and wrapped her arms around him. “Just because it’s Christmas Eve, that doesn’t mean you can’t tell me if there is something bothering you. This really is wonderful though, and I cannot imagine how you even managed to pull this off.”

“... It’s also an apology.”

____  blinked. “You’ve nothing to apologise for.

Krioff smiled somewhat sadly. “I’m sure that’s not true, but I don’t mean from me.”

“...” ____  flinched. “Aeiss?” She guessed.

“Yeah. I was torn over even mentioning that he had a hand in this ‘cause I didn’t want to ruin your gift, but -”

____  cut him off, pulling him into a deep and loving kiss.

“____ ?” Krioff asked when he pulled away for air.

“All of this was your idea right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s your gift. Your father might have helped you out of guilt for before, but these stars have my name and were chosen by you, it is us I will think of whenever I see this constellation mentioned, no matter its official name on Earth.”

Krioff finally relaxed fully and smiled softly. “In which case… uh… I guess I should say… Merry Christmas?”

____ smiled back at him. “Yes. Merry Christmas, Krioff,” she responded.

With the new stars twinkling in the night sky behind them, they shared another kiss.

[xasha777]

In the distant future, humanity had spread across the solar system, reaching the farthest corners of space. Among the most intriguing and mysterious places colonized was Vesta, the giant asteroid, known for its massive impact basin called Rheasilvia. The basin held secrets that beckoned scientists and explorers alike, promising knowledge and power beyond comprehension.

In this distant world, living amidst the remnants of ancient alien flora that had adapted to the asteroid's unique conditions, was Althea. She was not entirely human anymore. The intricate patterns of leaves and vines that adorned her skin were a testament to her symbiosis with the alien vegetation. Her curly hair, intertwined with delicate tendrils, framed her piercing blue eyes—eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of centuries.

Althea had been a brilliant xenobiologist, leading a team to study the mysterious flora of Rheasilvia. The plants were unlike any seen before, capable of thriving in the harshest conditions. During an unexpected and violent solar storm, Althea's team had been forced to seek refuge deep within the asteroid. There, in the heart of Rheasilvia, they discovered an ancient, alien facility. The facility housed an enormous, pulsating tree that seemed to be the source of the vegetation covering the basin.

Curiosity drove Althea to make contact with the tree, and in that moment, her life changed forever. The tree, recognizing her as a kindred spirit, fused its essence with hers, embedding its knowledge and resilience into her very being. Althea's transformation began, her skin taking on the patterns of the foliage, her senses expanding to perceive the whispers of the plants, and her mind opening to the memories stored within the ancient tree.

Years passed, and Althea became the guardian of Rheasilvia, her existence intertwined with the life of the asteroid. She communicated with the flora, learning their secrets, and in turn, protecting them from the ever-encroaching humans who sought to exploit their power. The asteroid's unique position and resources made it a coveted prize, and many expeditions tried to take control of it, only to be thwarted by the seemingly omniscient guardian.

One day, a new threat emerged. A powerful corporation, determined to harness the energy stored within Rheasilvia's plants, sent an army of drones and mercenaries to subdue Althea and claim the asteroid. They underestimated her connection to Rheasilvia and the power she wielded.

Althea, with her symbiotic relationship with the alien flora, commanded the plants to rise against the invaders. Vines and roots erupted from the ground, ensnaring drones and soldiers alike. The ancient tree within the facility pulsed with energy, amplifying Althea's strength. She moved with grace and fury, her every step resonating with the power of the asteroid.

In the final confrontation, Althea stood before the leader of the invasion, her eyes glowing with an ethereal light. "You do not understand what you are trying to control," she said, her voice echoing with the wisdom of ages. "Rheasilvia is not a resource to be exploited. It is a living entity, deserving of respect and protection."

The invaders, realizing their folly, retreated, leaving Althea to her guardianship. As the dust settled, she stood among the ruins, the plants around her flourishing once more. She knew the peace would be temporary, but she was prepared to defend Rheasilvia for as long as she lived.

For Althea, the last of Rheasilvia, was no longer just a guardian. She had become the embodiment of the asteroid's ancient spirit, a bridge between humanity and the cosmos, a reminder that some places in the universe were meant to remain untouched, their mysteries protected by those who understood their true value.