#little specifics so you can just imagine what the details must have been like at the time

[canarias-stuff]

Reaching You

Sung Jin-Woo X F!Reader

Summary:

“What the hell?!” You cried, more tears falling down. “You said that you would come back soon! So why?!”

“Wait! (Y/n)! I swear I can explain!”

“What happened with the gates?! And the war?!”

You could feel Jin-Woo panicking at your questions, but the dam was broken. You couldn’t stop.

“Why are we sixteen again?! Why do I have to study math again?!”

“...really (y/n)…?”

...

Or a story where you dreams of a world not so different from yours, but you know that you are missing something...no, someone.

(Sung Jin-Woo X F!Reader)

Author's note:

My second story for the fandom.

I started it a while ago, but I didn't know how to end it.^^''

And after struggling a little bit, this is the result.

I hope that you enjoy it!

You were 13 when the dreams started.

At first, they were short – so short you could barely remember the contents, but as the time passed, you felt like you had lived the dream for days instead of just a night. You dreamed of a world that's not so different from the real one, where people you know – family, friends and even some that you don’t know personally – are there.

Maybe you’d been watching too many American shows or playing too many video games, because each time you dreamed about this strange world, it became more vivid, more detailed.

Your dreamworld has a touch of magic and fantasy, and even if you couldn’t always remember the specifics, you were sure that at some point you were fighting against monsters inside what they called ‘gates’. There was also a rank system for those gates and for the people who fought inside them, there were guilds and something called Hunter’s Association, and even if you can’t remember everything, you are sure that you aren’t part of any organization.

One thing that you can remember though, is that something…no, someone is missing from your memories. Well, not actually missing, however there’s someone beside you in your dreams, someone that smiles at you, holds your hands, kisses you and makes you really happy, yet, no matter how hard you try, you can’t recall their face or the sound of their voice when they call your name.

And every time they appeared in your dreams, you’d wake up crying.

Was it stupid to miss someone you could only see in dreams? Someone your own brain had invented?

Yes , that’s what you told yourself. This person was just a figment of your imagination – born from all those novels you read. So why did it hurt so much every time? Why did your chest ache for someone whose face you couldn’t remember?

Once, you told your best friend about your dreams. Your friend laughed and patted you on the back.

“Woah! Did you fall for this mysterious person from your dreams?”

“Of course not!”

You felt embarrassed at the accusation, but if you were embarrassed about your dreams or about the part where you fell in love with someone that doesn't exist, you weren’t sure.

You also commented about your dreams to your family one morning and while your mother and older brother made fun of you, your father frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, you must have loved this person a lot.” Your mother said, while preparing the breakfast.

“Your brain is probably melting after reading so much garbage!” Your irritating older brother laughed.

“If you have free time to read novels (y/n), use it for your studies.”

And really, while your father’s comment was more of a “If you start to get red marks, I will burn all your novels.” warning, you decided that you should do as he said and study more – occupy your brain with numbers, formulas and historical events – because that way, your brain may decide to make you dream about possible questions for a test instead of making you miss someone that you only imagined.

…

“You are going there.”

“...I am…”

“It doesn’t matter what I say, right?”

“I’m sorry, (y/n).”

You sighed, but in the end you looked up to stare at his determined eyes, and smiled.

“You better come back soon.”

He smiled and wrapped his arms around you, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“I will. It’s a promise.”

And then, he turned around to leave, while all you could do was extend your hand and try – and fail – to hold him for just a little longer.

…

You woke up with an arm extended, grabbing the air. Again.

Since the start of your last year of middle school, the dreams haven't come as frequently as before. But still, at least once a week, you would wake up with your hand outstretched – like you were trying to hold onto something. Or someone. Just like now.

You never told a soul about this, not when you were sure that people – your best friend and family – would make fun of you.

But now that you’ve started high school, you wonder if this is progress. On one hand, you don’t wake up crying as often as before. On the other, you’ve started reaching out for this person. Still trying to grasp that person who never stayed – who probably never came back.

You stared at your arm for a moment before lowering it, a quiet sigh slipping from your lips.

And yet, for some reason, you felt warm. Like someone was still there, holding you.

…

“Have you heard about the rumor?” You heard one of the girls from your class say, from the desk right beside you.

“Oh! About the transfer student from class A?” The girl’s friend said.

“Yep! Someone said that he wears the glove only on his left hand because he has a tattoo there.”

You rolled your eyes at their conversation and kept reading the novel that you just found online. People had been gossiping about a student for almost two weeks now, and even though you hadn’t seen him yet, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. After all, who would want to be the talk of the school just because of their fashion sense?

“Actually, I heard from someone in class A that he is trying to hide a burn mark.”

A burn mark? You frowned, because that was new information.

“A burn mark? So he isn’t a delinquent?”

“I’m not sure, because someone heard a teacher say that he left home when he was still in junior high and came back after two years, but someone could have misheard it.”

“Well, let’s just stay away from him then.”

The other girl sighed, disappointed.

“What a shame, he does have a nice face though.”

And you rolled your eyes, trying to focus again on your novel as the girls shifted to another topic. People sure could be so petty.

…

Sometimes – actually it started just a few days after classes started –, you feel like someone’s watching you. But whenever you look around, there’s no one there, so you brush it off as nothing.

But today is different.

An ant was staring at you. 

A bipedal, human-like, black and blue ant was staring at you.

You tried to ignore it, continuing to eat your sandwich and chat with your best friend, as if the entity – it had to be some kind of ghost, right? – wasn’t there. It walked around you, moving with a strange, purposeful air, as though it was studying you.

And suddenly it fell to its knees and started crying.

“The appearance is slightly different, but this mana flow, this mana flow! There’s no doubt! Our queen is here! Our queen is here!”

You flinched. 

The ant is talking! The humanoid ant is fucking talking!

“Are you okay, (y/n)?” Your friend asked, when she saw you flinch.

“Hum? What?”

Your friend arched an eyebrow.

“You looked…distracted…”

Well, in your defense, it was difficult to keep focus when the ant kept crying…and talking nonsense beside you.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I was just wondering if I should go buy the novel that you recommended the other day.”

“I can just lend it to you!”

“Really? Thanks!” You exclaimed, trying to ignore the ant, that at some point got up and flew somewhere else, yelling something about telling the news to his king.

Ignore it, ignore it.

The weird creature was just a fragment of your imagination.

Yeah, just a fragment of my imagination…

But was it weird that for some reason you felt like you knew it?

…

“Queen.”

“Can you please stop calling me that, Beru?” You grunted, cheeks getting red. “It’s embarrassing!”

“But you are my king’s queen.”

Okay, that was way more embarrassing.

“Call me by my name!” You pleaded.

“How can a mere general call a queen by their name?”

“I’m not a queen so just call me (y/n)!”

“No, I can’t, my queen. I apologize.”

You turned to the man sitting at the sofa, who looked between you and the humanoid ant with an amused expression.

“Do something about it!” You cried, pointing at the giant ant.

“I tried, but he still calls me his king.” The man answered with a small laugh.

“Because you are my king.” The ant interrupted.

“Ugh…You really need to stop watching historical dramas, Beru.” You finally sighed and collapsed at the sofa, next to the amused man who just let out a small laugh and kissed you.

…

The ant was in your dreams this time.

For some reason, the ant called the stranger in your dream his king and you, his queen.

Really, it was embarrassing to be called that – and being kissed so gently –, but at least you got some new information.

The ant’s name was Beru.

“Beru..” You said. “What a weird name.”

…

After your encounter with the humanoid ant – Beru – just a few days ago, you started to notice other black and blue figures around.

Some were near the school gates, soldiers-like figures hidden in the shadows of trees, and others you could see around the neighbourhood, as if they were guarding and protecting the place.

Even if Beru’s figure had scared you a little, for some reason after your last dream, the feeling had gone away, and instead of getting uncomfortable with the shadow-like creatures, you felt strangely…safe.

…

Hah…yeah, safe…

Maybe you were so engrossed in the sense of safety the shadows provided that you completely forgot about reality.

You stared at the hand that was currently grabbing your wrist with a frown on your face. Once, your brother told you that high school was a jungle, where all kinds of species could be seen – football players, cheerleaders, basketball players, etc etc, and considering what was happening now, you agreed with your brother’s words.

These ones were probably the troublemakers/bully types.

“Aren’t you a first year?”

You looked up, (e/c) eyes glaring at the guy who grabbed your wrist and his two followers.

“Oh, you don’t have to look at us like that.” He – the leader (maybe?) – said with a smirk.

Really? How did you end up in this situation? You just went behind school to throw the trash after classes and ended up meeting with these three guys who were already there, up to no good. You didn’t say a word or look at any of them, but they still thought that it was an opportunity to try to pick up a girl.

“Like what?” You said without a hint of fear. “Like I'm seeing trash?”

Okay, maybe your choice of words were really poor considering the situation, but you were angry at the idiots who were trying to force themselves on you, and annoyed that you refused your friend's offer to help you with the trash.

“Hah?!” The leader roared, tightening his grip on your wrist. What did you just say, bitch?!”

“Oh? So you are deaf too?” You said, feigning a surprise expression.

You should have expected some violence.

The leader released your wrist just to push you at the wall by the collar of your shirt, and his followers surrounded you, eyes shining with malice, as if they just cornered a prey.

“I dare you to repeat that!” The leader roared.

You grabbed his wrist with both hands, (e/c) eyes never wavering at the sound of the clear threat

“Are. You. Deaf?”

The moment the guy clenched his other hand into a fist was the moment you twisted his wrist, slipping under his arm. The motion caused the first two buttons of your blouse to pop off – but it was worth it. He had no choice but to let go of your clothes, and in that instant, you threw him over your shoulder.

For a moment, everyone – even you – just stood there, trying to process what had just happened. You never learned how to fight, you didn’t even know that you had the strength to throw a guy twice your weight, but here you were, facing a bully and his followers, who somehow looked even more stunned than you.

However the surprise didn’t last long, and in a blink of an eye, the group had surrounded you again.

“That’s not fair.” You commented, eyeing the three guys walking around you.

“Life is not fair, girly.” One of his minions said with a smirk.

“You say it as if you have lived a long life.”

“This girl really doesn't know when to shut up, no?” Minion number one said.

“My friend said that I can talk for hours as long as I’m talking about my novels.” You continue. You need to buy some time, at least enough time to figure out how to get away from this situation, or until your friend realizes that you were taking too long to just throw the trash.

“Looks like your novels didn’t teach you to not pick up fights that you can’t win.” Number two minion laughed.

“Well, yeah, my novels usually focus more on romance, politics and family issues instead of people trying to pick fights with a girl who’s half their weight. These types of characters aren’t popular anyway.”

A vein popped at the leader’s forehead, and he tried to grab you again.

You don’t know how you did it. One moment, your feet were on the ground, and the next, you were in the air – upside down, hands planted on the top of the leader’s head, your body felt almost weightless. As you came down, you used his back as a stepping stone, pushing off and sending him crashing into his friends – while you landed gracefully on the ground.

You blinked, once more surprised with your fluid movements, as if you had done it all your life.

What the hell?!

“Now you asked for that, bitch!” The leader yelled and charged at you, at the same time as his minions.

Stunned by your own previous movements, you didn’t have time to dodge the sudden attack, all you could do was shut your eyes and brace for the impact. An impact that never came.

Instead, you heard people gasp in surprise and then, the “thud” of something hitting the ground.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, only to be met with the sight of someone’s back.

Your eyes went wide – for a second, the image of the person from your dreams overlapping with the stranger standing in front of you – but you quickly shook your head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. Right now, there were more important things to focus on, like the punks that were…attacking…you…?

You frowned, the three guys were laying on the ground, unconscious…

What just hap–?

“Are you okay?”

Gentle and calm, his voice interrupted your thoughts, but for some reason you felt your chest grow warm.

A gloved hand appeared in your line of sight – The student from the rumors, you couldn’t stop the thought – and you stared at it for a second, before accepting it.

“Thanks for the…”

But the words died in your throat the moment your (e/c) eyes met his. Yeah, you had heard the rumors – that he was handsome – but you hadn't known the details: the dark hair, the beautiful grey eyes and the small smile on his lips.

However…it wasn’t his features that made you lose the capacity to speak, but the sensation of familiarity, as if your brain was trying to remember something…someone…

The student was still holding your hand, so gently…as if you were something precious.

“(Y/n).”

The voice of the mysterious man from your dreams echoed in your mind and a face that you couldn’t remember was starting to take shape.

Your chest tightened and your eyes stung with tears that were ready to fall.

“Hey!” The stranger – Was he really a stranger? – cried, startled, as you collapsed to your knees, free hand clutching the front of your unbuttoned blouse.

Gates. Guilds. Monsters. Dungeons. A war.

“Hey! Are you hurt anywhere?!” He called again, panicking at your lack (or excess?) of reaction.

Dark hair. Grey eyes. A small smile.

His face wasn’t a blur anymore. You could see him clearly now.

“(Y/n).”

“(Y/n)!”

Oh…he sounds younger, but it is still him.

“Y-you are la-late…” You muttered between sobs. “...Jin-Woo!”

You saw him flinch at the same time you felt his hand tighten around yours, but did you care? Not at all. The feelings that had been locked somewhere in your being – lost but not forgotten–, were running wild, and since the boy in front of you was the cause, he should take responsibility for that.

“What the hell?!” You cried, more tears falling down. “You said that you would come back soon! So why?!”

“Wait! (Y/n)! I swear I can explain!”

“What happened with the gates?! And the war?!”

You could feel Jin-Woo panicking at your questions, but the dam was broken. You couldn’t stop.

“Why are we sixteen again?! Why do I have to study math again?!”

“...really (y/n)…?”

You glared at him.

“I’m serious here!” You yelled frustrated, but soon the overwhelming sensation died as you stared at the man – now teenager – that you had always been waiting without knowing. “I really am, Jin-Woo…”

With your free hand, you cupped his face. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and savoring the warmth of your hand.

Jin-Woo...he looked so peaceful, as if the weight he once carried had finally lifted from his shoulders. And now that your memories have returned, you understand why.

In this world, there were no gates, no monsters.

Even if he still had his powers – and you were sure that he did, considering you had seen Beru and his other shadow soldiers around – he was free from the obligations and responsibilities he had once forced upon himself.

Sure, you were kind of angry at him, Jin-Woo had a lot to explain, but at the same time you felt relieved. Relieved that he was back.

“I missed you.” You finally said, a tearful – but still genuine – smile on your lips. “I missed you, Jin-Woo!”

You weren’t really surprised when he let go of your hands and pulled you into an embrace, after all, if he hadn’t, you would have.

“I missed you too, (y/n).” He whispered in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry for being late.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, returning the hug.

“It’s okay.” You said. “It’s okay.”

…

A few minutes later, your best friend found you – with red and puffy eyes – hugging Jin-Woo behind the building with three unconscious bodies scattered around you.

Did she freak out? Yes, she did. But just as you had told Jin-Woo. 

It was okay.

It really was.

Because you had finally reached him.

Ao3 link

Ending notes:

But anyway! I hope that you enjoyed it!^^

I am not sure if the end felt rushed, but the point of the story was the reader to finally remember and reach Jin-Woo instead of him explaning everything. I just wanted to them to meet again in a better world.^^

But, of course I had to make Reader fight a little bit. First, because I wanted to show that with her memories coming back reader could do things that she could do in the past. And second because I wanted Jin-Woo to appear out of nowhere like the "Exchange" scene! hahaha

See you!

P.S: English is not my native language, so sorry for possible grammar mistakes.

[xdjville]

nct dream's voicemails

pairing: nct dream x gn!reader

genre: really all of them are different genres so idk buckle up; angst, established relationship (mark); comfort, established relationship (renjun); friends who have a thing going on and the dreamies are menaces (jeno); classmates, acquaintances but you're kinda cute (haechan); sick reader, fluff, established relationship (jaemin); basketball player and his "friend", bonus: he's drunk (chenle); idol x non idol, established relationship, kind of angsty if you squint but not really (jisung)

cw: cursing in mark's and jeno's, chenle's under the influence and he calls reader "pretty"

#mark

"i'm sorry. look, i... i know you probably don't want to talk to me right now, i get it. i shouldn't have said any of that and i'm so fucking sorry. i hate what i did and i have no excuse for being an asshole to you, but it's been almost two hours since you left and honestly i'm so worried i'm losing my mind. you don't have to come back yet, or call me back if you don't want to, but please, for the love of god, just let me know you're somewhere safe. shit, i'm so, so sorry. let's talk when you're ready, okay? i'll sleep on the couch tonight, so if you come back you can take the bedroom. i'm sorry. i love you."

#renjun

"hi, y/n. i'm sorry for calling so late, but, uh, i wanted to check up on you, you seemed a bit off today. maybe i'm imagining things, i don't know, but i couldn't stop thinking about it so i still wanted to ask. you don't have to tell me now, we can talk about it whenever you're comfortable, or not at all if you don't want to. just know i'm here for you, okay? it's normal to have worse days, so i'll try not to worry too much. i hope you'll feel better when you wake up in the morning. call me tomorrow, hm? we can go to that new ice cream place you told me about. sleep well, love you."

#jeno

"jesus, can you guys shut the fuck up– hey, uh, sorry for that, it's jeno. um, i'm calling because we're going to get some drinks at the bar down the street later tonight, and i– we were wondering if you maybe wanna tag along? we thought it could be fun hanging out outside of class since the semester is almost over. it's fine if you're busy though, no pressure. we're going out around, uh, nine, i think? so if you're up, call me back and i'll give you the details, yeah? alright, that's all, talk to you later. seriously, you guys are such fucking–"

#haechan

"uhm... hi, it's donghyuck. you probably didn't pick up since you don't have my number, but, uh, i called tell you that you left your sunglasses at the library yesterday. i asked mark for your number because we won't see each other untill chem next week and i thought you might need them, so... if you'd like to get them back just let me know? we could meet at the library again, or at get a coffee... or something. or i can give them to you in chem. whatever works for you! i don't mind either. just, uh, just let me know, okay? bye."

#jaemin

"hi, baby. how are you holding up? you must be sleeping, that's good. you need a lot of rest, hm? i hope by the time you're listening to this you will be feeling a little better. did your fever go down yet? there's food from my mom that i left in your fridge, you should eat that, i'm sure it's going to set you up. remember to stay hydrated too, yeah? i'll drop by with some groceries tonight, so let me know if you want anything specific. now rest well, love, i'll see you later."

#chenle

"y/n... you told me to call you when i get home, so why didn't... why aren't you pickin' up? well i– i'm home now, and, uh... renjun drove me there, so don't worry. anyways... i wanted t'say thank you, for coming to the game today. i honestly think we won only because you were there. you looked like... really, really... pretty. like... super pretty. when you, uh, hugged me after the match, i almost kissed you, you know? you're like my lucky charm... yeah, my lucky charm. i wanted to kiss you really bad. i wish you were here now so i could kiss you. can you come over tomorrow? mhm, 'm gonna go to bed now. bye, y/n–"

#jisung

"hey, how are you doing? it must be the middle of the night for you, you're probably asleep. i hope i didn't wake you up, i'm sorry if i did... i called you because i wanted to hear your voice. i, uh... i miss you, a lot. we had a day to ourselves to explore a bit, it was fun! it really was. but the whole time i couldn't stop thinking about how much more fun it would be with you there. i didn't want to kill the mood for the others, but i couldn't help missing you more today. did you miss me more, too? maybe it's like a soulmate thing... god, i sound so cheesy right now. anyways, the guys said they miss you too. chenle said we should all get hotpot together when we're done with the tour. sounds nice, right? oh, this voicemail is getting long... let's talk when you wake up, i'll call you after the concert. i lo– i miss you. sleep tight."

#taglist ➼♡ @bambisnc @suzayaaa

©xdjville

[alexsl-universe]

First Date

Summary: Trying to find a good guy to date you try tinder, after many failed attempts a guy catches your attention.

Warnings: None, pure fluff.

Paring: TFWS!Bucky x Reader

Word count: 3292

Prompt: B1 "First Date"

A/N: Hello, I'm trying to post more of my writings, i wrote this a long time ago but didn't had courage to post before, just want to say that English is not my first language and any mistakes are mine, also this is for the Bucky Boy Bingo 2025 event, i write some for this event and i will try to post some in here, hope you enjoy it :)

Tiger fotos, holding fishes, couple wanting a third, “If no one knows no one can ruin”, which means open relationship but only for him, so many profiles but no one grabs your attention, mans who only want sex, but you want a real relationship, sex is good but you want someone to hug when you got home,

You scroll some more profiles and think if someone is worth the stress, until someone gets your attention, James Barnes, handsome and none red flags apparently, is a huge step up, you have similar interests and don't live far from each other.

James Barnes

Hi, glad to find someone without that stupid tiger or similar photos lol.

James: If i want someone nice i should display what i have to offer right? Saw you like Lord of The Rings, like more the movies or the books?

Got points for not going to some cheese pickup line, liked that

I’ve grow watching the movies but read the books when i got older, liked both, but movies got a special place in my heart, you?

James: Glad to know you liked me

Books have a immersion in a different way, but I like the movies too

Any other hobbies besides reading?

Hope you liked me too 😉

I don't do much besides reading a lot, the type that people got worried with the amount books I have, I also like to cook but I'm not the best

And what else do you like?

James: I'm liking you 😉

I like to do sports, nothing specific, exercise helps me to get my head in place

Wow, I imagine you must be really ripped then

I don't do much besides riding a bike sometimes

So…

Wanna meet in person? I really liked you and want to know you better 

But just a date, I'm not a one night stand girl 

James: I would love to meet you in person

And don't worry I'm not a one night stand neither

When can we meet?

You so nice, others guys just stop answering when sex is not guaranteed, you are getting a lot of points with me

You free on the weekend?

Saturday evening?

James: Hope i got enough to make you smile

It's good to me, where do you want to meet?

Do you like cats?

There's a new cat cafe i would like to go

James: Great, I love cats, send me the details and I will meet you there 😘

🥰

You send him the address and chat a bit through the days. He is cute but a bit shy and above all he is not trying to make you accept to have sex with him.

When Saturday came you get ready with some casual clothes, dark t-shirt, red plaid blouse, some comfort jeans and black all-star, with another look at the mirror you check and everything looks good, but you still got some butterflies in your stomach, you still don't know if he is the same person or he is lying about everything.

Your thoughts got calmer when he sends you messages about being anxious to meet you and making you smile like a little girl with his messages.

You two arrive almost together, with just a few minutes apart.

“Hi James, how are you?” you say getting close and smiling at him

“Hi, you waited a lot? I got lost trying to get here” he said a bit shy but also smiling to you 

“No, just a little, I think not even five minutes” you said smiling to him

“Good” he say smiling to you “I bought you flowers” he says while handing you the small rose bouquet 

“That's so cute James, thank you so much, you are the cutest guy I've been on a date” you say looking at the flowers “But I don't think we can get in with those, but i will definitely put them on my backpack” you say smiling 

“That's okay, if you don't want you can leave here” he says a bit shy “Let's get in?”

“Sure!” you say happily, you always loved romantic gestures, but you are most sure that the last person who gave you flowers was your dad in some moment of your childhood 

As you two get inside the staff says that the flowers need to be on your backpack inside the lockers in the entrance, and also explains how everything works, you can eat your food first then you can get to the cats, or the other way around, but never bring food to the cat area, you both decides to eat first. 

“So, what a really nice and romantic guy like you is doing on tinder?” You ask sipping you hot cocoa on a mug that has cat whiskers draw on

“Let's just say I don't date anyone in a long time, so I took the tinder shortcut, hoping that I can get a date” he say drinking from a very similar mug but with coffee inside

“Oh sorry didn't mean to get you sad, I know how hard can it be” I say smiling trying to light up the mood “And if you may ask me, you're the best date I've ever had”

“Thank you” he says shyly sipping his coffee again “If you may ask me you're one of the kindest women that I've went on a date with” he smiles to me

“Thank you” you say feeling your cheeks get a bit hot. “Want to see the menu?” you say pointing at our side

“I… don't think I've had nothing like those foods, you can pick something for me if you want”

“No problem, but first I need to know you a bit more” you say resting your elbows on the table and holding your face with your hands “What you like in the food?”

“Simple, like jam, not much fancy desserts or lot of mixed flavors”

“Hmm, let me see what they got in the menu for you” you grabbing the plastic object and reading some of the plates “I think you will like ‘kitten bread’ is puff pastry in the shape of a cat's paw with some deli meats on top” you say showing him the picture of the menu

“Looks tasty, let's eat that” he say noding with his head 

“And ‘Meowve Jelly’ is a pave with jelly, each flavor came with a different cat expression” I point at it picture a bit lower on the menu

“They have one with plums, I love plums, I want one of these too” he says happily “What you going to get for you?”  

“I think the same bread but a ‘Lucky Cat’ cake, it looks like a cat sitting and is made of chocolate which is love” you show him the picture 

“It's really cute, just like you” he says smiling to you, and you get a bit flushed

“Let's order then” you say smiling and waving at the closest waiter to you two

You two order and chat while waiting for the food, he says about his experience in the army and you talk about your job, the time flies as more you know about each other.

When the food arrives you get excited because the food is even prettier in real life, with every detail carefully put in place 

“They are so pretty, you mind if I take a picture?” You say happily to James, or Bucky as he likes to be called “I won't show your face or anything just the food, don't worry”

“Sure, feel free to take the pictures” he says smiling to you

You take pictures of the beautiful food and one that has Bucky's arm and hand, you won't share that photo anywhere, you just wanted to have something to remember him and the best date you've ever had.

“Finished, hope they are good as they look” you said putting your phone down

“They're really cute, is a shame that we will ruined while we eat” he says grabbing the fork and looking confused at his bread “Also I have no clue how to cut this” he says laughing his nervosism out

“I think you can try like this” you show him were the kitten beans, that are the deli meats in a way that he can taste both the bread and the filling “But you can eat as you like”

“Your way is probably the best to taste all it deliciousness” he say putting the fork on the mouth and eating “It's really good, try for yourself doll” You get flushed by the nickname 

You do just like him and ate a piece of yours, and it's one of the most delicious things you ever eaten 

“It's really really good” You say smiling to him

“I like here, but with you the experience is ten times better, I really liked your smile” he says also smiling to you and you get a bit more flushed 

“Thank you, you also have a beautiful smile” you haven't met any guy like him before, someone that makes so much complements or was as sweet as he is “You're gonna get me spoiled treating me like a princess”

“My ma’ taught me to treat every woman well, especially when I'm liking her” he says smiling and giving you a wink, you try very hard to think who stupid loses him and also you thank that you can be with him, he is like prince charming.

“Thank her later, I'm loving being treat like a lady, especially by you” i say smiling at him “Fells like you got out of a romantic movie”

“You lucky that I'm very real” he says getting one of his hand to touch mine and tangle our fingers together 

“If you allow me to ask, how are you single? You are like the perfect example of boyfriend material and any lady who loses you is an idiot”

“Well, let's say being in the business that I'm in and having to be long times far from home makes hard to find someone who is willing to make it work, and generally pushes people away" he said sipping his coffee

"I get that, but if you're here it means that you're good at what you do so I shouldn't worry that much right?" You say after sipping your hot cocoa 

"You're seeing me in a good moment, there was far worse, I think I'm on lucky wave" he says smiling and finishing his plate

"That's good, you should enjoy it, relax a bit" I said putting my cup on the side and keep eating my plate

"I will, hopefully with you" he said smiling "And you? Why such a petty lady is doing single?" He said hiding his face with the mug to not show that he got a bit shy

"Well, nowadays people are more in just sex and no connection, I liked but I want to have someone waiting for me at home, talk about my day and theirs" you said pushing you cake closer to you "Being someone that want a relationship nowadays scares people" you say shrugging

"I'm not scared, I also do want something solid, I've already had my fair share of instability, with job problems, some close people getting in and out of my life, is... was tuff years" you can feel the sadness in his voice as he gets his desert close to him "Looks like we are in similar situations" he tries to hides his sadness thru a smile

"Different details but yeah, same situation" I smile to comfort him "No more sadness, let's get something sweet to makes this moment sweeter" he laughs at your joke, you think his laugh is very cute

"With you doll this moment already is very sweet, the dessert is just a bonus" he winks at you again and say the nickname that he don't know but makes you the happiest woman in the world, you smile back at him

"Agread, this is the best date I've ever had by far, and with a man that I thought only exists in my dreams" you smile and cut a piece of your cake with your fork and put in your mouth so you don't shame yourself

You appreciate the sweet chocolate taste, with the filling made of Belgium chocolate mousse and tiny chocolate granny imitating the cat fur, you smile even more from that divine taste. Bucky does the same with his dessert and enjoying it

"I think I'm gonna become a regular here, hope with you by my side to make everything sweater" he smiles and you choke with a piece of cake, is he trying to steal your heart? Cause he is doing a amazing job at it

"That would be amazing" you say after finally eating that cake piece and smiling at him

"There's a reason you want to come in here? You have or had a cat?" He asks while eating more 

"Had a fill during my life, but at the moment I don't, not sure if I want one so people may starting to call me the crazy cat and books lady" he laughs at my joke, that has a bit of truth, but you don't want to think about that now

"I was thinking to get one myself, my doc says will be good to me and make me feel less lonely"

"It's a good idea, but think a lot about it, is a big responsibility to take care of another life, mostly those who depends a lot on us, it can be tiring and exhaustive, but to me is worth it" you smile remembering of your last cats, they show love in different ways but still is love

"I think i need more of that, my house feels much lonely sometimes, having someone waiting for me there would be good" he says eating another piece 

"So much, having someone that loves us at home makes it fells way more like a home, maybe you find one in here" you say smiling 

"Maybe I can even find two" he says smiling, I really hope he can find a cat, but why did he said two? "I'm liking here, but mostly you" he smiles at me

"Me too" I smiled at him and blushing a bit "Did you finish eating? Want to see the cats?" 

"Sure, I would love to play with the cats, and your company makes will make it even better" you smile at him and get a bit more red

After you two finish eating your desserts the two of you go to the part that has the cats, finding a spot with not many people and sit and wait for a cat to approach.

Don't take much time and a white cat goes in Bucky direction, she smells him, goes around him and lay on his lap

"I think she likes you" you say while petting the cat

"You think so?" He asks shyly, and not knowing how to accept her love "You think she will let me pet her?"

"Probably, she is letting me pet her and laying on your lap" you say smiling at him "Let me help you, do like me, cats don't like much belly rubs and will let you know where they want" you say petting her chin 

Bucky starts slow with fear, but she starts to purr, loving his touch and moving all over his lap, then finally stopping with her belly up

"See, she likes you" I say petting another cat that got close to me 

"I don't think any other animal was that lovely with me, I fell that I already fell for her" he says while petting her head "Not just for her actually" he say looking at me with his cheeks a bit flushed 

"I can say the same James" you smile back to him

"Call me Bucky doll, we got more intimal so you can call me that" he say getting your hand close to yours "But I hope we can be more than friends"

I hesitate for a second before getting closer to him, feeling the warm for his hand thru the leather gloves and some sparkles, something that I haven't felt in a long time, I just give in to desire and lean in to kiss him, a romantic and passionate kiss, he caress my face with one of his hands, until you feel cat nails on my hand

"Ouch"  you say getting out of the kiss to see that you have a scratch on your hand "Hey I know him first don't be jealous" you say to the cat that doesn't even bother to look at you

"Did she hurt you?" Bucky says worried

"It's just a scratch, I'm fine" you say smiling "But I won't complain if you kiss to make it better"

He takes your hand and into his lips and presses a gentle kiss on your injury, and he keeps kissing until he reaches for your mouth again, but gets interrupted by a woman approaching you two.

"Excuse me" she say lowering to you level "My name is June and I'm one of the caretakers of the cats, I saw that Alfine really liked you two, she is more shy and doesn't interact much with the visitors, and i want to say that all of the cats in here are up for adoption" she says smiling "Also we don't allow this type of physical contact in here, but I'm happy for you guys" she say standing up and leaving us in silence

"I think I will adopt Alfine" Bucky says breaking the silence "You would help me to get everything for her?" He says looking at me

"I would love but maybe the process can be a little long and definitely with a lot of bureaucracy" I say holding his hand with mine "But we can get a part ready before she comes home"

You both smile at each other and go to the place where June is, she explains how everything is going to work and gives Bucky the papers to adopt Alfine.

To my surprise it takes less than an hour to adopt her, after the two of us go get the basic stuff for her in the closest pet shop to grab all of the essentials for her to live with him.

I’m with him companing him during all of the process, even helping to choose the color of her leach and some basic toys for her.

"I think her bed will be good next to yours, mine love to sleep with me but she can be different, beside you create a bigger bound even more with her" I say while putting the shopping bag on the couch 

"I know but... she looks likes the jealous type, and I want another cat in my bed" he say smirking

"If you ask nice she may agree" I say smiling and getting closer to him

You two start to chat more while getting everything ready for her confort, Alfine stays with both of you on the couch, demanding some attention from time to time but knowing when she needs to let you two alone.

When both of you sit on the couch and get a bit closer one thing leads to another and now he got his hands all over my body.

As he promised he wasn't a one night stand, even after we spend that night talking until both were craving more intimacy and decided that going into his room, which was the best idea, he doesn't want to be known as the naked neighbor, but I’m very sure after that all the neighbors know his name now.

A/N: Hope you enjoy it, pls tell me what you think

[orionsnotcanon]

Ok so... I had a dream about knock out months ago after binging TFP... I've been wanting to write it myself at some stage but I also really want to share it since I came across your recent post.

Reader is a fan of street racing and has their eye on a particular red car that seems to frequently show up. So imagine their surprise when they see it parked Infront of their work after a super long shift. They take some time to admire it before they hear a voice.

"Admiring?" He asks. They're flustered, not realizing someone was in the car. They can't see through the tint of the windows. It's a back and forth of flattery before he offers them a ride. They're hesitate but can't pass up the opportunity and get in only to see no driver but it's already too late.

ooo this aligns so well with the daydream i’ve got goin most days! Street Race Enthusiast Darling who can’t really afford to participate cuz those mods are EXPENSIVE but they’ve recently been seeing one car at every if not every other race they go to. Maybe it’s coincidence, maybe not..

Ahh street racing, truly an exhilarating hobby.

A thrilling watch, never knowing if these unsanctioned races will take a fiery turn, who’ll win, who’ll throw the first punch.

Lately, however, there’s been one continuous winner at most of the races you attend, a red beauty who’s driver never shows their face. You have no idea if he even collect the reward money after, you’ve never seen the trade off personally. Usually one of the losers try to start a fight, and you typically don’t want to stay around for the ending in case any weapons are drawn.

Most nights it works out, leaving just before things get too hairy and making it home in time to get enough sleep for work in the morning. You’ve never noticed how that beautiful red blends in so well with the shadows of back alleys and side streets.

KnockOut, however, is well aware.

Of how oblivious you are, of how many of those degenerates like to follow after you when you’re not looking. But he’s always right behind you, so you never have to notice just how much a darker crimson blends in better than his red.

Which means, it was a night like any other. Biking home late, unaware of the unworthy meat sacks that followed, and sleeping peacefully under your secret protectors watch. He didn’t have to speak to you to know that of course you’d be grateful, especially after all he’s worked to get for you.

Waking up to your bike missing, however, he may have to,, acknowledge it was a bit,, much.

Sure, it meant you were late to work,, again, but he would take care of it all, don’t you worry.

After just half a shift, your manager had to give you the unexpected news that you were being let go.

Apparently, a few customers had called to complain about you specifically. You try to argue that it must be a mistake, that you’ve done nothing but be a good employee, but the decisions already been made. The idea that someone might have it out for you crossed your mind, you have been a frequent at some of those shady races. But what or who could possibly have a problem with you?

You sigh as you exit early, grumbling under your breath and trying to figure out how to make this paycheck last, before something catches your eyes.

A beautiful, freshly waxed double of that race car you’ve been seeing lately. A low whistle escapes you as you exhale, glancing around as you casually stroll closer.

With no one in sight, you really take a look. Maybe leaving early wasn’t too bad, they might have left before you were able to get a peak.

Slowly, you admire the side closest to you, taking in all the details while making your way to the front of it.

“What a beauty..” You exhale, crouching down in front of the bumper to lightly trace your fingers over all the little details.

Suddenly, the lights turn on and the engine rumbles, startling you off your feet and back onto your ass.

“Like what you see?” An amused, self satisfied voice sounds from, what you can only assume, is the drivers side window.

Turning almost as red as the paint job before you, you quickly get to your feet. Like a deer in headlights you look back at the windshield, trying to find a face to speak towards at least.

The tint is so thick, you can’t think it’s legal, even as you shuffle back to the drivers side.

“Haha, I uh, yeah, sorry,” You laugh sheepishly, embarrassed a bit at just how slack jawed this stranger must have seen you, and how flushed you must be right now, “Your cars a real beauty is all.”

You make your way to the driver side door, keeping a respectable distance as he lowers the window a crack. You can’t see anything inside, despite your best, discreet, efforts.

“Why thank you, you’re not too bad yourself~” He muses, making you laugh awkwardly as you avert your gaze for a moment, “Where is someone like you off too at this hour? Can’t be much to do.”

You shrug, shifting on your feet as your eyes drift back to the car. Could it be..?

“Ah, ya know, just.. walkin around,” you hum, surely a street racer would keep his winning ride somewhere unseen. Was this guy not afraid of being caught?

“Would you prefer to drive around?” He asks, the undertone of eager anticipation going unnoticed by you in your thoughts. The offer itself, however, is enough to snap your attention to the window though.

It catches you off guard. Go for a ride? In this thing? It’d truly be a dream come true but you haven’t even seen this guys face yet!

Noticing your hesitation, the car inches just a small bit forward. “Come on, live a little! I’ll drop you off wherever you want~?”

You bite your lip, mulling it over. For the past few years the only thing exciting in your life was the occasional street race. You’d yearned to drive one of those beasts, and here was an offer to at least ride in one. Sure, stranger danger, but.. you mindlessly reach into your pockets, slowly fingering the can of pepper spray you kept on you. Maybe… Maybe you could do this.. just this once! You’ve been smart and responsible, you deserved a bit of fun especially after being fired for something you didn’t even do.

Slowly you nod, a small smile creeping up on your face. “Okay… okay! I mean, if it’s alright with you.”

You nervously, excitedly, jog to the other side, your smile growing as the door pops open a crack so you can swing right in.

In your excitement you buckle first before facing your hopefully new friend. That wide, shy grin dropping instantly as you see an empty drivers seat.

Your hand flies to the handle even as you hear the sound of locks clicking into place, you panic and push hard at door, or at least try to before the seatbelts have you in a vice grip against even the head rest. Tears form as you struggle, a soft voice coming from the dash area as the lights flicker slightly with each word.

“Hushhh, you’ll be safe now,” that same voice from before drawls, you can hear the curl in his lips as something leaks from the air vents. It’s becoming harder to breathe.

“Just close your eyes and when you wake up, we’ll be in your new home.”

[babyjinsu]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ have you seen my daughter? ꒱ ˎˊ˗

what is a mother to do—when her daughter has gone missing?

any riize member x fem!reader || 1.5k

౨ৎ missing person, kidnapping implied, financial issue mentioned

“excuse me—have you seen my daughter?!” 

your mother stops and tugs at a boy’s sleeve, her fingers curling tightly around the fabric as she’s afraid that he might disregard her like the others—thinking she’s crazy, with her messed up hair, tired face, and… raggedy old-fashioned outfit.

he startles, blinking down at her, and for a moment, she thinks he might ignore her like the rest. instead, he removes his earbuds. 

the city is like that—indifferent, moving at a pace too fast for a mother’s grief. 

she fumbles in her bag when she realises that he’s staying, panicking—trying not to waste too much of the young boy’s time and attention—pulling out a creased photograph. it’s a not-so-formal picture of you. a picture you took when you had to apply for your university’s application. it’s not really recent nor is it old, maybe a year or two younger. your hair was shorter then, eyes clearer, brighter smile. excited to be studying in the city.

the way your mother’s fingers shake as she holds it up makes it seem fragile, like the image itself might go missing too if she doesn’t hold it onto her dear life. 

“please,” she says, her voice wavering. “this is my daughter—yn, she’s been missing for days and she was last seen near here,” your mother continues, pointing at the place you were last seen—a japanese restaurant just tucked between the alley. 

“she was wearing, uh—” she swallows her panic, “a white blouse, a blue skirt, and, and she has a pink scarf wrapped around her neck. she—she has a birthmark here, just under her jaw.” your mother tilts her head up and taps her finger at where you have your birthmark. she gives more major details—your hair colour, eyes colour, specific features that you have. 

“have you seen her?”

the boy looks at your picture—then at your mother. there’s something unreadable flickering across his face. a flicker of recognition? pity? amusement? but it smooths over so quickly, she thinks she must have imagined it. 

“is she around this height?” he asks, moving his hand midair, just below his shoulder. 

your mother’s eyes flicker to the gesture, her breath hitching as she nods eagerly. “yes! about that tall—maybe a little shorter if she wasn’t wearing heels!” there’s a desperation in her voice, something fragile and clinging.

the boy hums, tilting his head as if trying to recall something just out of his reach. his gaze flickers back to the photograph. then, he reaches out his hand. “can i see it?” 

your mother hesitates, her fingers tightening around the edges of the picture. 

it’s a mother’s instinct—a mother’s reluctance to let go of her daughter on a piece of paper even for a moment. but she exhales, shakily, and places it in his waiting palm. 

he takes it carefully, as if he’s handling something delicate. his thumb brushes over the image, over your cheek, your hair like he’s tucking it, pressing his thumb faintly on your lips on the creased paper before smoothing over the fine lines of your face. his eyes linger, he tugs on his bottom lip—suppressing a smile.

“yeah…” he murmurs, almost to himself. he glances up to your mother. “she does look familiar.”

your mother’s breath catches—she swears she could’ve passed out right there and then. “you’ve seen her?” 

he nods, slow and deliberate. his brows knitting together in careful thought. “i think so. a few nights ago. near that bus stop.” he says, pointing at a bus stop. your mother immediately follows his index, looking at the worn out, obviously unmaintained bus stop. the cctv hangs on its last wire, broken. 

his eyes remain on her.

your mother turns to look at him, gasping. “the station? was she alone? was she okay? did you talk to her?”

he hesitates, just for a second before pursing his lips and offering her a small, almost apologetic smile. “ah… i don’t really know. it was dark. but i remember the pink scarf, and blue skirt. she’s a cute girl, right…?” he asks, arching an eyebrow as he looks down to your mother. 

he studies the way her lips part slightly, her eyes widen at the mention of the odd comment. yeah, you’ve been told you’re adorable before… 

stuttering, she nods. “yes—yes… she is.” she barely hears herself over the pounding in her ears. she taps on the photograph he’s holding. “you really saw her?” 

“i did talk to her,” he hums, rubbing the back of his neck. his voice casual and effortless.“she asked to borrow my phone to call someone… then, she asked if i could drop her off somewhere,” 

your mother stills. the air around her seems to thin. “she—she asked you to drop her off? where—?” she can hear her own heartbeat drumming in her ears. 

he nods. “yeah… she looked so nervous. she kept looking around like someone was following her.” his lips press together for a moment, then he glances at your photograph again, feigning thoughtfulness. “but she was so polite. really soft-spoken. really soft,” 

your mother’s finger twitches, she’s about to take back the picture from his hand when he lets out a soft hum, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head like he’s recalling what happened that night. her hand falls down to her side.

“did she say where she was going?” 

the boy exhales, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “no,” he shakes his head, looking at her with pity in his eyes. “she just asked me if i could take her back to her friend’s house.” 

her throat tightens. “why didn’t you drop her off at the police station?” 

for the second time, something flickers across his face. it’s quick—almost imperceptible. a crack in the kindness, but it’s gone before she can confirm it.

he lets out a small chuckle, almost embarrassed. “i asked her the same thing,” his thumb caresses your cheek in the photograph absentmindedly. your mother doesn’t notice it. “she was in panic and said she didn’t want to go there. said she was scared.”

your mother’s stomach twists. her breathing uneven but she tries to keep it under radar. he notices. “scared? scared like what—like how?”

“mmhm,” his voice dips, quieter like he’s letting her in on something secret. “she told me she got into some trouble—financially. people were looking for her. i thought maybe it was, like a… loan shark thing.” he glances at your mother, watching, waiting. 

her breath catches, and she’s quick to deny. “no, that’s not—” she stops herself, pressing a hand to her chest. the words feel wrong, so foreign, you would have told her—you would have told her if you’re short on money. you wouldn’t—no, you really wouldn’t borrow someone else’s. 

yes, your family is poor—your siblings don’t even have the privilege to pursue education but—

the boy tilts his head slightly, humming thoughtfully. “that’s what she told me,” he murmurs, almost apologetically. “this girl… yeah—she seemed really on edge. she kept looking over at my car’s door handle and the side mirrors.”

“what?” 

he shifts his weight like he doesn’t quite know how to put it in words. “i don’t know, she acted so weird that night,” he continues, sighing. “even i was having a hard time figuring her out. her hands kept twitching and every time i slowed down at a red light, she looked like she was going to jump out of the car.” 

something cold crawls up your mother’s spine. 

“she… she wanted to get out?”

his lips press together before shrugging slightly. “ i guess so…” his lips curve into an almost regretful smile. “she asked me to drop her off by the street but there was nothing, no houses, no stations… so i insisted that i drop her off at her friend’s house.”

your mother sways slightly on her feet. her head feels light. her breathing—heavy and uneven like she’s going to hyperventilate and break down at any moment if she doesn’t know what happened to her daughter. 

“why did you…?” her voice barely makes it past her lips. 

“it didn’t feel right to leave her in the middle of nowhere,” he looks down at her. his eyes narrow, emotionless. “i told her it wasn’t safe. she cried, then went quiet for a long time after that.”

a lump forms in your mother’s throat. she thinks she’s going to puke in the middle of the street. 

you cried? oh lord, what happened to you?

he sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck. “then i dropped her off at her friend’s house. ‘s all.”

her hands tremble as she clutches her bag tighter. “where—? where is her friend’s house?” 

his fingers drum against his hips, licking his lips to wet them, he then gestures down the street with his index. his smile doesn’t falter, it deepens just slightly that it seems thoughtful. 

“it’s not that far,” he says, voice warm and kind. he looks down at your mother with the smile he had on when he studies your picture. “i can take you there, if you’d like.”

despite the cold sinking deep into her bones, despite the sick feeling curling in her gut, despite her mother’s instinct yelling and warning her no—she nods.

because what else can she do?

with practiced ease, he folds the photograph between his fingers, slipping it into the back pocket of his jeans. she doesn’t notice it.

oh, you’ll love this.

💭 sorry for not being able to be as active & post a proper fic :"( hopefully u guys enjoy these scraps for the time being.........

[wingedshadowfan]

okay so we know xaden killed one of king tauri's sons (halden's twin/aaric's brother) alic in basgiath and specifically at threshing because he "was a bully" and "went after garrick". what's really interesting about this though is

aaric doesn't just know it was xaden, his exact words to violet are "you have no idea what he did to alic!" and xaden's are "though i wonder who it was that told aaric, since if his father knew i highly doubt i’d still be in possession of my head."

from this wording i'd infer the issue wasn't that alic was killed during threshing (which is allowed, it's free season), it was the fact that xaden of all people killed him, and it sounds like it wasn't pretty

when violet and dain recognize aaric at conscription day, violet guesses if the king had known what aaric was planning, he wouldn't have let him go precisely bcuz of what happened to alic. therefore, it must be widely known that prince alic died in the riders' quadrant during threshing (EDIT from the replies: we know this was the case because at violet's conscription xaden's speech confirmed even a king's son can die in the quadrant, but he obv didn't say alic was killed and didn't claim the kill as his). but who would know how it happened other than garrick and xaden themselves?

it's not like cadets usually go in groups during threshing so i imagine alic was following garrick to try and eliminate him, and xaden was either just looking out for him or stumbled upon the two and did what he does best - annihilate a mf to defend his own (watching a similar situation unfold at violet's threshing must've awoken memories for xaden lol, and it also makes me wonder whether that's why sgaeyl bonded him in the first place bcuz in xaden's words she "was never fond of bullies" and i believe she's said she chose xaden for his ruthlessness)

we're not aware of any other/older cadets recognizing aaric and anyone who might've seen what went down at xaden's threshing 3 years ago no longer remains at basgiath to tell aaric personally (unless they're a repeater like sawyer??), and they could likely only communicate with the outside world by sending a letter the following year - and even if that happened, though already a stretch, why tell aaric and not halden or the king? why give details?

so i wonder if it was molvic who saw it go down and told aaric bcuz at the time aaric says this to violet, it's been just days after he bonded him (to the point where it's during aaric's thresing that violet tells rhiannon jesinia has found the vault where xaden's little fight with aaric later ensues)

EDIT from my reply: blue dragons are supposed to be the more intelligent and wise breed (remember the king is referred to as King Tauri The Wise, but ofc he's not a rider, and halden and alic don't seem particularly wise, but aaric does) so it's possible molvic was looking to bond xaden, not alic, but seeing xaden kill him in cold blood, he let another, more brutal blue do it - sgaeyl, and it was only years later that he found what he was really looking for in aaric

[deathbxnny]

Oh yeah, raising literal childish soldiers canNOT be good for one's conscious 🥲

But, I'm glad you're eager for more of that succulent emotional hurt, though this one will be... different the previous ones. And without further adieu, let's get into it 😈

So, I've noticed how, in this series, any harm sent mother's way has always been somewhat second-handed, and psychological in nature. Physical arm has always gone to the Children of The House. So, what if for this scenario, "Mother" is the unexpected one coming to harm?

Now, I could definitely write up a scenario of "Mother" getting hurt in some drastic way, and Arle and the House Kids retaliate in grand fashion, but that would be... kinda generic, no? Rather, I'm thinking of a scenario where "Mother" is hurt by the one thing that not even The Knave herself can protect her from.

Herself.

Or more specifically, her own body. Lemme explain.

So, "Mother" is in a position that can be IMMENSELY stressful and emotionally draining, so imagine one day, it's about as normal as life in the Hearth can be, "Mother" is at work, performing or assigning chores, or maybe prepping a meal for the kids, with some their help. When suddenly, she's hit with immense chest pains, as though her rib cage is squeezing around her heart, it becomes hard to breath, hard to focus because of how dizzy she's become. That's right, Mama suffer (or very nearly suffer, that detail is up to you) a literal heart attack, give everyone in the House a good scare, if you would 🤭.

And so, after this incident "Mother" is pretty forced to "take it easy" so that she can recover (which according to some brief searches I've done, can take anywhere from a couple weeks to a few months). And, considering how "Mother" is definitely seems like she'd be something of a workaholic, someone who feels she needs to be present and contributing to be a "worthy" mother, suddenly being forced to take a break from all her usual daily tasks must make for an absolutely miserable experience for her.

So, in the meanwhile, Arle and the kids try to figure out some things to cheer her up and keep her mind occupied while she recovers.

X Anon

Heartfelt devotion. | Arlecchino x Fem!Wife!Reader

(Part one) (Part two) (Part three) (Part four) (Read more parts under Arlecchino's name in my Genshin Masterlist!)

A/N: Hello X Anon! Thank you so much for your request. I really enjoyed writing this. In fact, this turned out to be a bit of a personal piece due to me having had the experience of an immideate family member suffering a heart attack, so I put some of that into this fic, which is why I took a bit of a different approach to your idea. Either way, I hope it's to your liking X Anon!!<33

Content: Heart attacks, comas, angst, hurt/comfort, wife reader, mentions of Curcabena, reader becomes a bit delirious, trauma, sfw

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

The will of the Tsaritsa never rested for anything.

The expectation for everyone to continue until nothing was left of them always weighed on your shoulders, but it did little to ever make itself noticeable in the ranks of the Fatui. Exhaustion? Sickness? Death? None of that was an excuse enough to stop. You were all motivated by the goal ahead, even if uncertainty of what exactly it was often lingered in your mind. It was inspiring to work hard even in the face of pure agony and hell. It's just how things were. That's just how you kept going for so long as an organization.

The Tsaritsa's gentle kindness was ultimately not enough of a reason when the cold, icy snow and wind of your home ripped at your skin hungrily for more of your soul to take.

And you especially, as the wife of a Harbinger and "Mother" of the House of Hearth, felt that deeply.

Day in, day out.

It was all the same in the house of Hearth that forever kept busy no matter the occasion. You were unofficially the head of it all. Your wife often had better things to do as a diplomat and therefore entrusted you with your family from day one. The title and duties of the "Mother" weighed on you painfully, just as expected from you. And whilst you've spent endless years attempting to repair the relationship between that title and the family, you still didn't feel like it was enough. The woman that raised you and the 4th Harbinger haunted you with every step, always looking over your shoulder with that sinister smile of hers. You could feel the scrutiny in her gaze, see the rage in her grin, hear her venomous words in that sweet, gentle voice of hers.

Arlecchino had moved on from her by taking on the title of "Father," but you remained cursed. You remained in the past where you belonged, fixing connections that died for a reason, yet you were stuck with due to your own doing. There were no regrets in your actions initially, but now, after seeing the carnage and death you had caused to your own children by sending them off to the grim reaper yourself, you realise that over time, your mind and body has become worn down dangerously. You were beginning to fall apart, yet tried to keep yourself together just enough to continue every day. Like everyone else here.

It was getting hard to move and sleep lately, however, something that should've unnerved you when it was first starting to become noticeable. But you waved it off like everything else, your mind focused on your daily tasks and responsibilities instead. With your wife abroad back in the motherland for a Harbinger meeting, you were stuck shouldering absolutely everything again, not that you ever protested or cared much. You saw it as a necessity, perhaps even an honor to work at her side and take care of such an important part of the Fatui. If only the glamor and patriotism didn't melt away every time you got a new death report regarding more of your children. Crucabena used to read them as though they were the latest fashion magazine, a content smile on her lips every time. You, on the other hand, shed endless tears, finding no enjoyment in what you've become.

How did she do it? How was she able to be so indifferent and cruel to you all without feeling a thing? What was the secret to absolut absolvation from the guilt and shame? Years later, you still find yourself asking these questions in the shadows of the night, your blurry reflection in the water of the cold bathtub mirroring her image. You wonder if you even were any different than her ultimately. You felt like you did the same things as her, just less cruel, less callous. Was your care and love for the children enough to make a difference?

"Of course not. You and I are one in the same, my dear child." You often hear her voice whisper to you in those painfully sleepless nights, and you wished Peruere was there to keep her quiet again.

Taking a deep breath, you let out a weak hum when you felt someone grab onto your shoulder with a gentle shake. "Mother?" Lyney asked carefully, brows furrowed in worry at your near catatonic state lately. You barely seemed alive at times, your blank stare staring through everyone, some of your tasks even neglected seemingly unbeknownst to you. Your movement was sluggish, slow, and clumsy. Everyone noticed this, and the worry was beginning to seep into all the children belonging to the house. This was nothing like you. And yet, you didn't seem to be aware of it. Or maybe you were ignoring it.

Either way, Lyney had enough of just watching you suffer, his gaze becoming stern when you gave him a tired look. "Have you... slept or eaten properly lately? You look ill." The answer was 'no' to both, of course. You haven't been able to eat much due to the sudden huge workload you were confronted with ever since their Father left for much longer than usual. Sleep was out of the question due to the odd pain and pressure in your chest whenever you laid down. This led to you often sitting in a chair instead in front of the fireplace in hopes of getting some sleep that way... but unfortunately, that didn't work either.

Gently shaking your head, you mustered the strength to give him a shaky smile in hopes of calming him. "I'm alright, dear, don't worry about me. It's just a little stress, nothing more." Ever so perceptive, you sighed when you saw his eyes narrow. He didn't believe you, and you certainly wouldn't believe yourself either. Something was terribly wrong, but you had no time to deal with it. You didn't want Lyney to take on any duties he didn't have to yet, even if he'll most likely be your wife's successor one day. The pressure was too much. You didn't want him to feel the way you did.

Behind him, you saw two agents enter the kitchen through the backdoor. Masks obscured their faces, but the aura they let in was grim and cold. One you were so awfully familiar with, including the documents in their hands. A red envelope peeked out, a silent sign of more carnage and death raised by your own hands. The pressure in your chest suddenly increased once more when the guilt crept back up your body and whispered those evil words of self-doubt into your ears again. "How... How many this time?" You breathed out, a hand pressed to your chest in pain. Lyney grabbed onto your arm in surprise as your body nearly keeled over. Your mind was ringing, and you couldn't even hear the response to your question anymore.

It was all too much. You couldn't take it anymore. In the forefront of your mind, the woman that raised you gave you a "proud" smile, like she always did. It sickened you, for it meant that you've done something that once again proved that your title was cursed.

"Mother!" Lyney yelled out in panic, quick to alert everyone around them to your collapsing form. This has never happened before. The Lady of the House never fell, never faltered. And yet, as you now laid there on the floor, hands pressed against your chest as you heaved painfully, unable to breathe, you realised that everything you've done in your life has led you to this point. This was karma. This was the pain you deserved. Your children's terrified faces faded away and swirled into your mother's dark, sinister gaze. She reached out to you, her gloved hand pressing against your sweating forehead and tearstruck eyes, but you didn't feel any comfort. You felt like another death report, her favorite and one she has been waiting for forever.

If this is how you died, then so be it. One thing about Curcabena was that she'll always find a place for you to sit next to her no matter what. This time, you supposed, it would be in hell for the hurt you've caused.

How fitting.

"... Is she going to ever wake up?" "Not for a while. The doctors said the coma is necessary for her recovery. The reanimation took too long and... it's on her now to awaken." Lynette took a deep breath, her voice coming out in hushed whispers in fear of being overheard by their stressed Father. When Arlecchino came back come after an emergency letter practically crashed into the meeting room through a panicked Fatui agent, she found herself in the middle of a near warzone. You kept the house together at all times. But with you being in a medically induced coma now, everything fell right onto Lyney's shoulders. The one thing you never wanted.

The Knave had yet to say a thing, her lips pressed into a thin line at all times, as she silently moved to reorganize everyone and ease the pressure off of the young man's shoulders. Not even three days of taking on everything, and he was done emotionally and physically. How did his mother do it every day? How was she able to function? How was she able to keep everything in mind, do every task with perfect precision? He had so much to still learn, and that's what your absence proved him so painfully.

But hope still remained. If you woke up soon, then things would get better. Then, no one needed to be so terrified anymore.

Freminet nervously leaned against the doorway to your room, red eyes casted downwards to his shoes in silent shame. Guilt was eating everyone in the house up, their hearts aching with the question, "Could we have done more?". Yet their father wasn't keen on answering anything, her reassurance coming in the form of stern orders and a call for strength from them all.

"I see... in that case, I'll stay and watch over her for the night. You should go rest, Lynette." The young man spoke, watching as his sister exhaled a deep breath and nodded reluctantly. No one was getting any sleep lately, but it's the thought that counted. Passing by him with a short hug they both needed, Freminet watched her disappear into the darkness of the corridor, the moonlight filtering in through the windows leading her way. Stepping into the room with a soft sigh, he closed the door behind him and approached your sleeping form. His father hadn't stepped into this room much due to how busy she was with the chaos that broke out with your absence... but when she was in here, he saw the way she'd just stare at you, the pain in those stern eyes melting the ice and leaving behind a worried, foreign gaze that was rare to see on her.

Pulling a chair to the edge of the bed, he leaned his head against your slowly rising and falling chest, his eyes fluttering close in hopes of catching the tears that threatened to fall again. He wanted you to wake up so badly. It hurt to see you in this broken, weakened state. You were so pale and looked hollow, like all the life had been taken out of you. It was a terrifying sight that he could only barely comprehend. You have never looked like this before. You were always so strong and domineering.

He just couldn't believe it.

Fingers running through his blonde hair calmly is what made him flinch back to reality, his body reeling backward in surprise, yet the hand kept him there firmly. "Calm down, child... don't be afraid. It's just me." It was your voice, yet it sounded raspy and defeated, a slight slur to it from the lack of using it. Freminet froze and stared into the white covers of your bed, his tears dampening the soft fabric. But you didn't seem to notice his plight at first. He wanted to stay still, in case this was a dream. He was afraid that a single sudden move would make you fall back into your coma, the irrational thought plaguing him painfully.

"Mother..." "... Is this... heaven, after all?" You whispered, mind returning to the woman that haunted you. Surely, this must be the bliss before the storm. You imagined that soon flames and the hands of the children you've sent to their death would reach out and drag you down with them. And yet, all you got was the blonde boy pulling himself back again and grabbing onto your hand. "N-No! You're... you're alive." He stuttered out in panic and confusion, wishing someone else would help him, someone else could be here with you and take care of you much better than he could.

But once you processed those words of his, your heart skipped a beat in panic. The emotions finally caught up to you, and the surge of emotions made you attempt to sit up. Letting out a small yelp, Freminet attempted to hold you down and comfort you, knowing how you were about the house and your duties. The doctors had warned about this happening, too. Yet nothing could have prepared him for the sheer strength you demonstrated despite everything that happened. Something which could prove deadly soon, if you didn't relax immideatly.

And as though the heavens had heard his prayers, the door to the room creaked open, and in came his Father, an unreadable expression on her face at the sight of your struggling form. You were alive and somehow filled with energy, which unnerved her a little deep down. This certainly was going against your bedrest orders. "Peruere, I... I'm sorry for disappointing you- I'll get back to my duties as soon as I-" Her hand rose, and your deafening silence came with it. Taking slow steps towards you, her hand came down to rest on top of her trembling son's head. A silent absolvation from his duties for tonight.

"It's okay. You have not disappointed me in the slightest. Now rest." Her voice was stern and cold like it always was, but beneath the icy surface, you could feel the warmth and worry spread through her like a wild fire. She didn't want you to feel this way, and you could tell that the state you were in hurt her deep down. You and your family were her only weaknesses. Wanting to ease her pain, you leaned back into the soft pillows, eyes not daring to look up at her anymore. Why did you feel so ashamed? Perhaps because you should have taken care of yourself better. If you had, then maybe you wouldn't feel like a burden now. As though she was reading your mind, Arlecchino gave her son a curt nod, which he immideatly took as his sign to reluctantly leave.

Silence now overtook you both until she sighed and took a seat in the chair Freminet was in earlier. The moonlight filtering in through the open window illuminated the side of her tense face, her unique eyes near glowing. It was a peaceful moment, despite the pain that now raked through your entire body and especially chest. You closed your eyes weakly in relief when you felt her clawed hand carefully caress your sweat drenched face, your throat feeling so awfully dry as you gulped.

"I... I need to get up... I need to go back to work." "Not for a while." "... For how long then." A week maybe, you hoped. It was more than enough. It was all you allowed yourself, and even that was pushing it. Your restless mind was spinning in circles at all the tasks it still had to complete, and you felt yourself at a loss for words when she shook her head with the faintest frown. She knew you too well. You were an open book she had read many times over and couldn't get enough of. "Six weeks. Perhaps even longer after, depending on your state-..." She stopped herself when she saw your body trembling, and in the dimmest moonlight, she saw tears glinting in your eyes.

"Please don't cry. This is for your own good. I was... afraid when I heard of what happened. In fact, I'm grateful that you are alive, my songbird." Oh, how delicate her words were. Her honesty was forever going to be proof of her undying love for you. The ache is your heart lessened at the gentle warmth that spread through you from her touch, her tone lulling you into the safety you've craved ever since you fluttered your eyes open again. If only the guilt left with it. "What of our children? I must've scared them terribly. Especially my poor Fremi'..." You whispered after a moment of contemplation. Arlecchino watched your sick, tired form with kind eyes that were only reserved for you.

She figured that you'd feel this way. You were always so desperate to prove yourself to absolutely everyone. Whether it was to her, your children, or even the entire organization, you wanted to show everyone that you were better than Crucabena. Yet no matter how many years past, and no matter how much you achieved, you were never able to realise the truth. You had always been better than her from day one. The moment you rebelled and refused to take her side on the day, Arlecchino defeated her was proof of it.

"Do not fret over them. The children are strong. It is you that we need to worry about now. Just take it easy and sleep." Her words were comforting, even if short and to the point. You trusted them with your life. And yet, the feeling of being a burden just creeped up your body until you fell into a restless slumber once more.

The next few weeks were filled with nothing short of attention and borderline spoiling from all children in the house and beyond. Whether young or old, they all took care of you in the same way you cared for them. Something you could only barely handle. You felt like you should be doing that for them only, never the other way around. Yet under your wife's iron gaze, you were left with no choice but to accept your fate and stay put in bed or, on the rare occasion, in the living room near the fireplace. Lyney and his siblings especially took charge of your care, and you couldn't help but feel guilty at what you've put them through. You had attempted to apologize to the young man plenty of times for simply collapsing the way you did in front of him, but he'd always wave you off with a gentle smile. One they all attempted for you to mirror again.

The magician and Lynette would perform small shows just for you, knowing how much you enjoyed their tricks. Freminet, who was practically glued to your side, would read books with you about sea animals, whilst the other children brought you tasty pastries and food. The house was kept spotless by everyone, and you didn't have to lift a singular finger. And your wife was more affectionate with you in her own special way. Gentle kisses and careful, early morning cuddles were the norm, despite her reluctance for physical touch beforehand. You could tell through her actions that the state you were in had hit you deeper than she was most likely aware, and it didn't help the small guilt that was still left in your heart. All she had left from her old life was you. The woman she considered her wife and the mother of the house.

And by the time you've mostly recovered fully, you realised that the past wasn't haunting you anymore. Crucabena's strict hold on you had faded away, even if you knew that she was simply waiting for your arrival in hell one day. But your small revenge would leave her seething, absolutely enraged for years to come first.

In fact, it felt so good to be alive now.

[echo-bleu]

The Sculptor in her Workshop, Unknown, Late Third Age, Tirion.

and

The Return of the Lost Son, Unknown, Early Fourth Age, Tirion.

This is something of a companion piece to this Nerdanel character study (on AO3). In it, she sculpts her husband and sons as she feels them die across the sea, and she waits long ages for Maglor until he comes home.

(Makalaurë, standing still in the empty space that long awaited him, makes a better marble than live body.)

I think this is the most detailed piece I've ever done. I genuinely started it as "oh, I have a very vivid mind picture of this scene, I could do a little sketch!" and here I am about two weeks and 19 hours of painting later. I'm really proud of it, though.

Please reblog if you like it!

IDs (also in alt), details and more rambling under the cut.

[ID: Two digital paintings of the same room, a sculptor's workshop. In the first, Nerdanel, a light-skinned elf woman with long curly red hair, is working on an abstract sculpture in marble. Behind her are six marble life-sized statues: Fëanor, brandishing a gem, Maedhros, with one hand missing, arms partly crossed, and after a gap, Celegorm, kneeling down to hold Huan, Caranthir, reading a book, Curufin, forging a dagger on an anvil, his arm raised to hammer it, and Ambarussa, holding each other. On the foreground right is a large stab of marble waiting to be sculpted. The second painting has the same background with the workshop and statues, with a more reddish tint as if it's sunset. The abstract sculpture has now replaced the slab of stone and in the middle, Nerdanel is kneeling in front of Maglor, as light-skinned elf with very long dark hair, holding his hand, while she has her other hand on her mouth. She is crying. Maglor is standing in the gap between the statues of Maedhros and Celegorm. The other pictures are details of the first two.]

The statues in order: Fëanor, Maedhros, (Maglor), Celegorm&Huan, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod and Amras. Feel free to zoom in, they are each pretty detailed.

This is the first time I've drawn any of the younger sons. I did Nerdanel and Fëanor, Maedhros, Maglor and Celegorm before, each in slightly different AUs, but desiging Caranthir, Curufin and Ambarussa was fun!

Maedhros is missing his hand and has scars, because while Nerdanel never saw it, Finrod came to tell her what he looked like after Angband. She first sculpted him with his hand, though, so I imagine taking a hammer to it must have been... a specific sort of pain.

Curufin is a mix of Fëanor and Celebrimbor, they all look like each other, but I headcanon that Fëanor was more thin and wiry (though still strong), while Curufin was a bit buffer, as he focused more on large works (weapons and infrastructure) than jewellery, and Celebrimbor who was a teen/young adult in the war put up more fat once in Ost-en-Edhil, after many years of privation.

I can never settle on Caranthir's craft/occupation, but it's something bookish. As for Ambarussa, I think Nerdanel just wanted to remember them as happy youths, rather than attach them to any activity.

[amethystarachnid]

I have an idea for this Accidental Roommates AU (example: both character and reader book the same apartment and are now roommates), and I hope this makes sense to you! So, it's with Tony&fem!reader. They'll turn into a lovely couple after some time, and adopt a kitten/cat together? Tony Stark is the biggest cat dad in the world, and no one will convince me otherwise hehe.

Thank you! 🧡 (or you can ignore this)

ROOM FOR TWO - part I

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: short fanfic

ᯓ★ Word count: 6k

ᯓ★ Summary: Finding out that the apartment you were supposed to live in is overbooked isn't the best way to start college, especially if your roommate it Tony Stark in all his arrogance. Will things between you two change when you have to co-parent a stray kitten?

ᯓ★ part II

ᯓ★ TW(s): pure fluff

ᯓ★ AU: Accidental roommates

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

A campus rental, small and cozy, isn’t what you pictured when you imagined your first college apartment. The place is narrow, the walls are beige, and the furniture is outdated—but it’s private. Or so you thought.

When you first walk in, your suitcase bumping against the doorframe, you’re ready to start unpacking, excited about this small taste of independence. But before you make it past the entryway, you hear footsteps and a muttered curse.

Then you see him. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at you like you’re the one who doesn’t belong here.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. His voice is sharp, confused, and a little annoyed. He’s got dark hair that’s messily falling into his eyes and he’s wearing a band T-shirt, ripped and faded like it’s been through too many wash cycles. His jeans are equally worn, fitting him a little too well, and he has this stance—relaxed but tense at the same time—that suggests he isn’t someone who’s often surprised. You know who he is, of course. He’s in your engineering class, always the one who asks questions so far above everyone’s heads that even the professor sometimes looks thrown.

“Um… I live here?” You don’t mean to make it sound like a question, but it kind of is. Because despite the paperwork in your bag and the email from the landlord, this feels wrong. Or at the very least, unexpected.

“No, you don’t,” he counters, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. “I do.”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to stand a little straighter. “I signed the lease last month. I have emails and everything.”

“Yeah?” He pulls out his phone, scrolling with one hand before he flashes his screen toward you. “So did I.”

You squint, trying to make out the details through the faint glare. And then it hits you. Your landlord—the one who’d been juggling your papers at your first meeting, his glasses slipping down his nose as he talked in circles about tenant rights and late fees—must have double-booked the apartment.

Great.

Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, this has to be some kind of clerical error. I’ll call the landlord and sort it out. This isn’t—” he gestures to you, almost like he’s waving you off, “—what I signed up for.”

“Hey,” you say, putting a hand on your hip. “I didn’t sign up for this either. You think I wanted a roommate?”

“Considering I was promised a solo apartment? No.” He rolls his eyes, the look almost theatrical. But there’s something tired in it, something that tells you he’s just as put out as you are.

You cross your arms and look him over, not backing down. “Fine. Call him.”

He stares at you for a second, like he’s trying to figure out why you’re challenging him, before he pulls up his phone again. He dials, waits for a second, and then mutters a low curse when he’s sent to voicemail. “Of course,” he grumbles. “The guy’s probably out somewhere completely unreachable.”

“Figures,” you mutter back. “This is a disaster.”

Tony shoves his phone back into his pocket and leans against the counter, watching you with a resigned sort of amusement. “Well, I don’t have anywhere else to go. And unless you’re secretly a millionaire with a spare apartment lined up, I’m guessing you don’t either.”

The sarcasm in his voice makes you narrow your eyes. “I have a backup plan, thank you very much,” you lie, because you’d rather not give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s got the upper hand here. But he’s not buying it. The way he’s smirking tells you that much.

“Right,” he says, dragging out the word, “but if you’re planning on staying at this backup plan, you’d better let me know soon because I’d rather not waste time unpacking if I’ll be the only one here.”

You bite back an irritated response, taking a deep breath instead. “Look,” you start, forcing yourself to be diplomatic, “why don’t we just… figure this out later? The landlord will be available at some point, and we can get this sorted then.”

“Fine by me,” he replies with a careless shrug, but you notice his eyes linger on you a little longer than you expect. “So what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you reply shortly, unsure if you want to give him any more than that just yet.

“Tony,” he says. There’s something about the way he says it that feels almost like a challenge, like he’s waiting to see how you’ll respond.

But you just nod, trying to ignore the way he’s sizing you up, like he’s deciding whether you’re friend or foe. You’re here to study, to focus on your degree—not to get tangled up in whatever Tony Stark’s got going on.

“So, um…” You gesture around the apartment awkwardly, not really sure what to do next. “I guess we should… set some ground rules?”

“Sure.” He pushes off the counter and stands in the middle of the small kitchen, arms folded as he looks at you expectantly. “You start.”

“Alright,” you say, steeling yourself. “Number one: respect each other’s space.”

He nods, almost a bit too seriously. “Agreed. Number two: no loud music after ten.”

You arch a brow, half-smiling. “Already calling me a party animal?”

Tony shrugs, unbothered. “I’ve seen you in class. You don’t look like the type who needs extra chaos, that’s all.”

You’re not sure if it’s a compliment or a jab, but you let it slide. “Number three: split the cleaning. I’m not a maid, and I don’t plan on cleaning up after you.”

“Noted.” He holds up his hands in a mock defensive gesture. “I’m pretty tidy anyway.”

“Good.” You cross your arms, feeling slightly more in control of the situation now that you’re laying down some structure. “Number four: don’t touch my food.”

He smirks at that, leaning a little closer. “You think I want your ramen?”

“It’s very good ramen,” you retort, bristling a bit at the implication.

“Sure, sure,” he says, grinning now. “Anything else?”

“Not for now,” you say, though you know there are probably a dozen more things you could add. But you’ll figure those out as you go. For now, you just want to unpack and get this over with.

“Cool,” he says, nodding in agreement. He turns, heading toward the living area, which also serves as a shared bedroom thanks to a convertible couch and a twin bed crammed into one corner. “So, who gets the couch?”

You hesitate, looking between the couch and the twin bed. The bed is closer to the window, which would be nice, but the couch has more privacy since it’s further from the door. “Uh… maybe we take turns?”

Tony snorts, plopping himself down on the couch and stretching out, arms folded behind his head. “I’m good here,” he says with a smirk, like he’s already staked his claim.

Your irritation flares again, but you let it go, deciding that it’s not worth the fight. “Fine. I’ll take the bed.”

“Perfect.” He doesn’t even open his eyes, clearly satisfied with the arrangement.

You grab your suitcase and start unpacking your things into the small dresser on the far side of the room. Every now and then, you catch him watching you from the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t say anything.

The silence stretches out, a little too heavy and a little too tense, until you can’t take it anymore.

“So,” you say, desperate for a distraction, “what’s your major?”

“Mechanical engineering,” he replies without missing a beat. “What about you?”

“Engineering, too,” you say, feeling a bit relieved that you have something in common. But he just raises an eyebrow, like he’s not sure if he’s impressed or skeptical.

“Didn’t peg you as the type,” he says, his tone teasing but not unkind.

You laugh a little, rolling your eyes. “Yeah? And what’s ‘the type’?”

He shrugs. “Just… different. I dunno. You don’t seem like you’d be into all the math and circuits and long nights in the lab.”

“Shows what you know,” you say, surprised by your own defensiveness. But it’s true—engineering is your passion, even if people don’t always expect it from you.

Tony sits up a little, watching you with newfound interest. “Fair enough. Maybe you’ll surprise me.”

The way he says it, like he’s almost daring you to, makes you feel like you have something to prove. “Maybe I will.”

He grins, and you can’t help but smile back, despite yourself. There’s something about him that’s annoyingly charming, even if he’s a bit smug.

“So, guess we’re stuck together,” he says, stretching again and giving a mock yawn as he looks around the small space. “Might as well make the most of it, right?”

“Right,” you say, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach. It’s going to be a long semester.

The evening settles in, the sky outside darkening as you both settle into your corners of the small apartment. And even though it’s awkward and tense and neither of you is thrilled about the arrangement, there’s a strange sense of possibility in the air. As much as you hate to admit it, maybe being roommates with Tony Stark won’t be the worst thing in the world.

Or maybe it’ll be a disaster.

The first few weeks of living with Tony Stark are, in a word, chaotic.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that sharing a space with him means constantly navigating a fine line between friendly coexistence and utter frustration. He has this way of making himself at home in every corner of the apartment, like he’s somehow managed to expand into all the free space. You can’t go to the bathroom without finding his razor on the sink, his textbooks spread across the counter, or his laundry draped over a chair. And then there’s his music—always loud and mostly classic rock, blaring at all hours, completely ignoring your “no loud music after ten” rule.

One morning, as you walk bleary-eyed to the kitchen for coffee, you trip over a pile of Tony’s sneakers lying by the door.

“Tony!” you shout, cursing as you nearly spill your coffee. “Your shoes are everywhere. I can’t even walk in here without tripping.”

He pokes his head around the corner, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. “Relax, Y/N, it’s just a couple of shoes. Don’t get your circuits crossed.” He grins around the toothbrush, somehow managing to look amused and cocky at the same time.

You glare. “It’s not just the shoes. It’s the shoes, your textbooks, the dishes you leave in the sink—do you know what a dishwasher is?”

He raises an eyebrow, half-amused, half-unbothered. “Do you know what a chill pill is?”

You roll your eyes, muttering under your breath, and try to focus on your coffee. He’s insufferable, really, and yet… somehow, every time he flashes that grin, you feel a flicker of something you can’t quite name. Not that it makes him any less irritating.

The semester picks up, and with it, so do the all-nighters. You’re both in the same engineering program, and you’re both competitive. When he’s hunched over his laptop at two in the morning, the screen casting his face in an eerie blue light, you find yourself in the same position, furiously scribbling equations, desperate to finish before he does. Occasionally, you catch him glancing over at you, eyebrow raised, like he’s silently challenging you to keep up. And you do.

One night, you’re both exhausted, sprawled on opposite ends of the couch after a particularly grueling set of lab assignments. You’re barely holding a pencil in your hand, too tired to even write another line. He’s in the same state, eyes half-closed, notebook resting against his chest.

“You’re not as bad at this as I thought you’d be,” he mumbles, half-asleep.

“Thanks,” you mutter back, too tired to argue or throw a sarcastic response his way. “You’re not that bad, either.”

He huffs, like he’s barely holding back a laugh. You don’t know why, but the sound actually makes you smile.

Tony’s bad habits still drive you crazy, though, especially when it comes to his tendency to hog the tiny bathroom you both share. One morning, after he’s been in there for over twenty minutes, you finally bang on the door.

“Tony, hurry up! I have class in half an hour!”

The door cracks open, and he peeks his head out, hair still dripping from his shower. “Calm down, I’m almost done.”

“Almost done? You’ve been in there forever!” you snap, crossing your arms.

He grins, completely unfazed. “If you’re so desperate, feel free to join me.”

You feel your face heat up, and before you can come up with a comeback, he winks and shuts the door again, leaving you fuming and red-faced in the hallway. That’s Tony, always pushing buttons just because he can.

Over time, though, things… change. Somewhere between the petty arguments and the grudging coexistence, you start to fall into a rhythm. You still bicker, but there’s an unspoken understanding now. You’ll swap the couch and the bed without making a fuss, automatically take turns in the kitchen, and sometimes, you’ll even study together.

You find out that Tony’s more than just the arrogant guy from class—he’s sharp, quick with a joke, and oddly attentive. Sometimes, you’ll wake up to find a fresh cup of coffee waiting for you, and he’ll wave it off, muttering something about it being “just convenient.” And in return, you start picking up his shoes without complaining, throwing his clothes into the hamper, and even bringing him snacks during your late-night study sessions.

It’s a Friday night, and for once, you’re not spending it at home or at the library. You’ve actually got a date—a rarity in your life—and you spent more time than you’d like to admit getting ready, carefully putting on makeup and smoothing down your dress.

Tony, of course, has been watching with that teasing glint in his eyes the entire time, slouched on the couch with his laptop, occasionally smirking like he knows something you don’t.

“You’re actually going out with this guy?” he asks, after you’ve checked your reflection for the fifth time.

“Yes, Tony, people do go on dates. You should try it sometime.”

He laughs, that casual, easy chuckle that you hate because it always manages to sound good. “I don’t need a date, Y/N. I get enough action as it is.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your purse. “Enjoy your action tonight, Stark. I’ll be back late.”

But as the evening wears on, your mood changes. You’re sitting at a café table, checking your watch for the third time. Your “date” was supposed to meet you half an hour ago, but there’s no sign of him. A growing feeling of embarrassment builds in your chest, and with each passing minute, it gets worse. You don’t want to be that girl who waits around for someone who clearly isn’t coming. With a sigh, you grab your bag and head home, hoping Tony won’t notice your early return.

When you open the door, though, Tony looks up from the couch, eyebrows raised. “That was… fast.”

You sigh, closing the door and leaning against it, trying not to let the disappointment show on your face. “He, um… he didn’t show up.”

Tony’s expression changes, softening a little. He puts his laptop aside and stands up, crossing the room to stand in front of you. For once, there’s no teasing in his eyes, no smirk. “Wait, he stood you up?”

You shrug, forcing a smile. “It’s not a big deal. I probably wasn’t his type, anyway.”

“Not his type?” Tony’s face hardens a little, his tone sharp. “Y/N, he’s an idiot. You’re amazing. He just missed out on something great.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “You don’t have to say that.”

He shakes his head, his hand reaching out almost instinctively to touch your shoulder. “I’m not saying it because I have to. I’m saying it because it’s true.” His gaze holds yours, steady and warm, and for the first time, you realize just how intense his eyes are.

There’s a moment of silence, heavy and charged, and you feel your pulse quicken. You’re standing close, closer than usual, and for once, there’s no witty comeback, no sarcastic remark from him. Just Tony, looking at you like he sees something in you that no one else does.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, swallowing against the sudden tightness in your throat. “I just… I guess I feel a little stupid, that’s all.”

Tony’s face softens, and to your surprise, he pulls you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You’re not stupid, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice a warm murmur against your hair. “Some guys are just idiots. Trust me—I know a lot of them.”

You laugh against his shoulder, feeling some of the hurt and embarrassment melt away. “Thanks, Tony.”

He pulls back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders, his gaze searching yours. “Anytime. Seriously.”

For a moment, you just stand there, lost in his eyes, feeling something shift between you. He’s still Tony—annoying, messy, impossible—but there’s something else there now, something unspoken. And suddenly, the idea of him as just your roommate feels almost… disappointing.

He seems to feel it too, because he lets go and steps back, clearing his throat. “So, uh… if you want, we could watch a movie or something? My treat. I have some popcorn in the cupboard, and I promise not to talk through the entire thing.”

You smile, nodding. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

And as you settle onto the couch together, for once in comfortable silence, you can’t help but feel like this night turned out better than you expected.

The first time it happens, it’s an accident. You don’t even plan on a second Friday movie night, but somehow, it just becomes part of the routine.

A week after your canceled date, you both end up crashing on the couch with a couple of cheap takeout containers, both too tired to think about cooking or studying. Tony puts on an old action flick, and you spend half the movie rolling your eyes at the ridiculous stunts, only to find him muttering a dramatic running commentary just to make you laugh. By the end of it, you’re not sure if the movie was any good, but you’re grinning, and you realize it’s the most relaxed you’ve felt in weeks.

From then on, Friday movie nights are a thing.

Every Friday, no matter how hectic your schedules are, you and Tony put aside a couple of hours to flop down on the couch and watch something. The movies vary—from classic thrillers to cheesy rom-coms, and even the occasional animated film—but somehow, it always feels like the best part of your week. And, slowly, it becomes one of the best parts of living with Tony.

You look forward to the comfort of those quiet evenings, knowing that you can just curl up with a blanket and relax without any pressure or expectations. Tony usually picks the movie, claiming he has “refined taste,” and you mostly let him—except for the times when you insist on watching something with a little more plot and a little less gratuitous explosion.

One Friday Night

It’s late in the semester, and you’re running on fumes. Between exams, projects, and late-night study sessions, you’re barely getting four hours of sleep a night. You’re slouched against the arm of the couch, wrapped in your favorite blanket, trying to keep your eyes open as Tony scrolls through the movie options.

He shoots you a look, one eyebrow raised. “You sure you’re up for this? You look about two seconds away from passing out.”

You wave him off, trying to suppress a yawn. “I’m fine. Just… pick something, preferably not too loud, and not too complicated.”

“Noted,” he says with a small smirk, settling on a lighthearted rom-com.

You start the movie together, but within minutes, your eyelids are drooping, the exhaustion from the week catching up with you. Tony glances over at you occasionally, eyes softening each time he catches you nodding off, but he doesn’t say anything. He just shifts slightly so you’re more comfortable, like he’s already expecting you to fall asleep.

And then, without really thinking about it, you let yourself sink against him, your head resting on his shoulder as you drift off. He freezes at first, his body going stiff as he looks down at you, eyes widening. But you’re already halfway to sleep, curled up with your blanket, completely unaware of how close you’ve moved.

Tony’s expression softens, and he settles back into the couch, letting his arm drape casually along the back, his body relaxing beneath your weight. He takes a deep breath, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He’s always liked having you close, but you’re usually too guarded, too quick to pull away if he even nudges a little closer during the movie. But right now, with you dozing off against him, he can’t help but feel a quiet kind of happiness.

When the credits roll, he’s still sitting there, one arm around your shoulders, careful not to move too much in case it wakes you. He’s not sure why it feels so right, holding you like this, feeling the warmth of your body against his, but he doesn’t want it to end. Not yet.

Eventually, you shift a little, mumbling something in your sleep, and he swallows, feeling his heart skip a beat. He’s never thought of himself as someone who’s into all that romantic stuff, but right now, he’s sure he wouldn’t mind just staying here like this for a little longer.

After that first time, the accidental cuddling becomes a regular part of Friday nights. Some weeks, you manage to stay awake for most of the movie, laughing and joking with him, but other times, especially when you’re exhausted, you inevitably end up leaning against him. And each time, Tony stays perfectly still, like he doesn’t want to ruin the moment, secretly relishing the feel of you snuggled against him, warm and close.

He never says a word about it, and you don’t notice, or at least, you don’t seem to. It’s a quiet, unspoken thing between you. And in a strange way, it brings you closer, turning those Friday nights into something special.

One Friday, as you’re drifting off, you mumble something into his shoulder. “Thanks, Tony… for putting up with me,” you say, voice thick with sleep.

He chuckles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Anytime, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low. “You’re a lot easier to put up with than you think.”

And even though you’re already asleep, the faint smile on your lips tells him you know.

One rainy Tuesday, you’re buried in textbooks, barely aware of the time, when the door bursts open, and Tony steps in, drenched from head to toe. There’s water dripping from his hair, his hoodie soaked through, but that’s not what catches your attention. It’s the tiny, gray-furred creature cradled in his arms, mewling pitifully as it clings to his chest.

You gape at him. “Tony, what—?”

He grins, holding up the little kitten, who peers at you with wide, curious eyes. “Found her outside the library, all alone in the rain. Look at this face—she’s practically begging for a home.”

You blink, not entirely sure how to respond. “Tony, we can’t just… bring a stray home.”

“Why not?” He’s already taken off his jacket, now gently rubbing the kitten dry with the inside of his sleeve. “She clearly needed someone, and I figured, hey, we’ve got space. I already named her and everything.”

You fold your arms, fighting a smile. “Oh? And what, pray tell, is her name?”

He lifts the kitten up, gazing at her with an affectionate look you’ve never seen on his face before. “This is Dumpling,” he says, voice soft as he scratches under her tiny chin. “She looks like a dumpling, don’t you think?”

You burst out laughing, surprised at how fitting it is. The kitten has round, wide eyes and soft, fluffy gray fur that’s sticking up in odd directions. Despite your initial protests, you can already feel yourself softening.

“Alright, Dumpling,” you sigh, reaching out to stroke her tiny head as she lets out a delicate purr. “I guess you’re ours now.”

Tony grins, triumphant, and Dumpling stretches a little, her tiny body relaxing against his chest. And just like that, you have a cat.

Within days, Dumpling has taken over your lives—and, somehow, your relationship with Tony transforms right along with it. The two of you fall into an easy routine of “parenting,” like you’ve somehow become an unlikely team. Dumpling’s food bowl is filled, water is changed, and cat toys litter the living room floor, a mess that somehow makes the apartment feel homier.

You and Tony develop a sort of playful banter around it, too.

One morning, you catch him standing at the kitchen counter, holding a small spoonful of tuna over Dumpling’s head, his expression one of extreme concentration as he tries to get her to “high-five” for it. You snort as you walk into the kitchen.

“Really, Tony? We’re training her now?”

He turns, smirking. “Hey, she’s got potential. I think with a little more time, she might be able to help us with homework.”

You roll your eyes but secretly love the way he’s taken to Dumpling. “You’re just spoiling her,” you say, grabbing your coffee.

“Oh, and you’re not?” He raises an eyebrow, pointing to the fluffy cat bed you impulse-bought online last week. “I think someone’s getting a little too attached.”

“Okay, fair.” You shrug, and as if on cue, Dumpling saunters over to you, rubbing against your leg and purring. You bend down to pick her up, laughing as she curls up in your arms. “But I’m the responsible one. She’s clearly a daddy’s girl.”

“Oh, so I’m ‘Dad’ now?” he teases, reaching over to scratch Dumpling behind the ears. She stretches into his hand, and he gives you a mock-stern look. “That makes you the mom, doesn’t it?”

You feel a slight flush at his words, but you roll your eyes, playing along. “Fine. But if she wakes up at three in the morning, ‘Dad’ is definitely taking that shift.”

He chuckles, and there’s a warmth to it, a little spark that seems to light up every time he glances at you.

As the weeks pass, Dumpling becomes an integral part of your Friday night ritual, usually curled up in your lap or wedged between the two of you as you watch movies. She has this adorable habit of pawing at Tony’s arm if he stops petting her, and though he pretends to be annoyed, you know he secretly loves it.

One night, Tony is stretched out on the couch, Dumpling sprawled lazily across his chest as he scratches her head. You’re curled up beside him, drowsy after a long week, watching a classic rom-com as the rain patters against the window. It’s cozy, peaceful, and you’re so comfortable that you can’t help but let your head rest against his shoulder. The weight of his arm, slung casually over the back of the couch, feels like it’s holding you there, like maybe he wants you just as close as you want to be.

Somewhere in the movie, Dumpling hops down and trots off to her bed, leaving just the two of you on the couch. You’re both quiet, the movie long forgotten as the rain falls softly outside.

When Tony shifts beside you, you feel him turn slightly, his gaze lingering. You look up at him, and for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, the space between you seeming smaller and smaller.

He clears his throat, almost like he’s about to break the silence, but instead, he just chuckles softly, brushing a stray hair from your face. “You know, I think Dumpling was onto something.”

“Onto what?” you murmur, heart beating just a little faster.

He grins, that warm, gentle grin you’ve come to love. “She figured out she likes being close to you way faster than I did.”

Your breath catches, and you’re not sure if it’s the rain or the warmth in his voice, but something inside you pulls you toward him, drawn by the tenderness in his eyes, the way his fingers lightly brush your cheek. “Tony…”

He leans in, so close now you can feel his breath on your skin. “Yeah?”

You don’t answer, and he doesn’t wait, his lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s tender, unhurried, like he’s savoring the moment, and you melt into him, feeling the warmth of his hand gently cradling your face. All those unspoken moments, the teasing, the playful “parenting” of Dumpling, the late-night study sessions—all of it seems to click into place, like you were always meant to be here, like this.

When you finally pull back, your face flushes with warmth, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world.

“I didn’t know I needed that,” he says softly, a little breathless, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek.

You smile, your fingers finding his as you hold his hand. “Neither did I. Guess we can thank Dumpling.”

He laughs, that soft, happy sound that makes your heart skip a beat. “Yeah, our little matchmaker.”

From then on, the apartment feels different, warmer. Friday nights turn into something even sweeter, and Dumpling, your shared “little family member,” watches with a quiet approval, curling up beside you as you and Tony share the couch, hands intertwined, each of you finally knowing exactly where you belong.

Being with Tony as a couple is somehow both everything you expected and completely different. The teasing and playful dynamic remains, but there’s a new, unspoken warmth in everything you do together, a kind of quiet intimacy that’s hard to put into words.

You both quickly fall into a routine, but with small moments that make your heart race, the soft touches and lingering glances that remind you this is real now. Dumpling is still the center of attention in your little “family,” and her mischievous nature keeps you both on your toes.

It’s a lazy Tuesday morning, and you’re attempting to get ready for class. You’re putting on your makeup in the bathroom when Tony comes up behind you, arms slipping around your waist, chin propped on your shoulder as he gazes at your reflection in the mirror.

“You know, you look pretty cute in the mornings, even if you’re annoyed,” he murmurs, grinning as he watches your expression in the mirror. Dumpling is at your feet, playfully pawing at the hem of his jeans as he nuzzles against your shoulder.

“‘Annoyed’ is putting it lightly,” you say, though a smile slips through. “Dumpling decided to wake me up at 4 a.m. because someone decided it was a good idea to feed her a can of tuna last night.”

He shrugs, unrepentant. “She deserves the best. Besides, you look extra pretty when you’re slightly annoyed.” He presses a gentle kiss on your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

You roll your eyes but turn to face him, the playfulness in his eyes melting into something softer. He brushes a thumb over your cheek and then kisses you softly. You hear a soft meow at your feet, and Tony chuckles against your lips, pulling back only to scoop Dumpling up. “Alright, little one. Mom and Dad have classes to get to. Try not to destroy the place while we’re gone.”

Dumpling mews indignantly but seems satisfied when Tony scratches her head, her loud purr filling the bathroom.

Word about you and Tony spreads across campus faster than either of you expects. For a while, you just think you’re imagining the occasional stares, the murmurs when you and Tony sit together at lunch, his arm slung casually over the back of your chair as he chats with his friends. But soon enough, the stares turn into glares, particularly from some of the girls who used to linger around him before you two were official.

You overhear whispers in the library one afternoon as you’re studying. Two girls at a nearby table are staring over, murmuring to each other with pinched expressions.

“Can you believe he’s with her? Tony Stark?” one of them says, not-so-subtly looking you up and down.

The other girl huffs, rolling her eyes. “She must’ve done something to reel him in. I mean, he could do way better.”

Their words sting, but you pretend not to notice, focusing instead on your notes. Just then, Tony appears behind you, pressing a kiss to your temple, and plopping down in the seat next to you. The two girls exchange wide-eyed glances, their whispers silencing instantly. You try to brush it off, but Tony notices the tension in your shoulders.

“Don’t listen to them,” he says quietly, his hand finding yours beneath the table. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You look at him, and he gives you that soft, reassuring smile that makes everything else fade away. With him beside you, the whispers and stares don’t matter. You squeeze his hand, feeling a quiet pride at being the one he chose.

The Friday movie nights are still sacred, but now they have an even cozier feel. You and Tony snuggle up on the couch, Dumpling curled between you or lazily sprawled across your laps. The cat’s purring is a constant soundtrack, her favorite place being Tony’s lap, where she can knead her tiny paws against his hoodie.

One night, you’re nestled together, Dumpling snoozing away as the credits roll on an old thriller Tony insisted on watching. You turn to him, still feeling the thrill of the movie but comforted by his warmth beside you.

“I think we make a pretty good team, don’t you?” you murmur, resting your head against his chest.

He chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “The best team. Even if Dumpling keeps trying to sabotage my snacks.” He’s referring to how Dumpling “steals” the popcorn from his lap whenever he’s not looking.

You smile, pulling his arm closer around you. “And if she’s got any competition for attention on campus, I think I know who her biggest fan is.”

He laughs, his arm tightening around you, his face lighting up. “Well, can you blame me? Between you and Dumpling, I’ve got everything I need.”

It’s a quiet Saturday morning, and you’re curled up in bed, still half-asleep, when you feel the mattress dip slightly. You open one eye to see Tony settling Dumpling gently beside you, her little head nestled into your pillow. He grins as you blink at him, half-confused and half-amused.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you. Dumpling lets out a tiny squeak between the two of you, as if demanding her own share of attention.

With Tony’s gentle kiss, the cozy weight of Dumpling snuggled next to you, and the soft light filtering through the window, you can’t remember ever feeling this content. It’s just a small moment, but it’s perfect, each day settling you further into this life you’re building together.

One night, you’re both lying in bed, Dumpling curled up at the foot, fast asleep. You’re wrapped in Tony’s arms, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your shoulder as you lie in comfortable silence, the room lit by the soft glow of the city outside.

Out of nowhere, Tony clears his throat, and you can feel his heartbeat quicken slightly. He takes a breath, then murmurs, “I love you.”

It’s so soft that you almost miss it, but your heart skips, warmth flooding through you. You look up, seeing the nervous but hopeful look in his eyes.

A smile spreads across your face as you reach up, touching his cheek. “I love you too, Tony,” you say, voice soft but steady.

His face breaks into a grin, and he pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead as if sealing the words between you. Dumpling lets out a sleepy, annoyed noise, but you both laugh, neither of you moving.

if you liked the story don't forget to leave a like, a reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more! <3

[reaminaart]

i LOVE LOVE LOVEEE YOUR JEFF AND JANE DESIGNS OMG!! what inspired them? :0

Thank you so muchh! //0v0//

I focus on them a lot because they have been my favorite characters for years now, so I tweak their design a lot, don't be surprised if some details change.

Jeff

A lot of inspo for my Jeff comes from Bleedingheartworks, specifically their older art of Jeff. Generally how they showed his personality and attitude through his design and gestures.

Other inspo comes from character like Frank-N-Furter and Mark Renton from Trainspotting. Esp. for his face I love giving him hard edges, angry big eyes, a bit of a resting bitch face that just looks confusing with his cut smile.

I actually had a hard time drawing him, until I just accepted that he doesn't have to look too human or realistic. The scars on his face allow me to kind of morph his face and make his expressions more extreme. I always try to show how ruthless and careless he is just through his looks, so longer nails, bruises, bleeding, and especially heavy scars are a must.

I understand realistically he'd be bald but I can't bring myself to do it, hair just brings the whole design together. His hair is straight and sharp, but it's pretty thick so it just looks like a mane when washed. Fun fact, I imagine his younger self always had a buzz cut.

I made his eyes able to almost close, bcs I like him being more expressive. His lower eyelids are not burnt but cut, you can see the scarring under them. So he can still kind of close his eyes but you would see some of his eye peeking out. I've not shown this in my art yet, but I like to think when he goes bonkers his pupils dilate instead of shrink.

Jane

idk where to even start, her look is constantly evolving in my mind, I literally want to put all ideas into one design but it's impossible. There's not specific inspo I have, I kind of lego built her from all interpretations I liked and art pieces over the years.

She's huge and strong I'll tell you that, it stunned Jeff a bit the first time he saw her. Wears heels to be even more intimidating, she stands at 190cm without them.

Her face is completely covered in scars and cuts, the burns go all the way from the head to the thighs, but they're more visible on the back. I'm gonna give a little spoiler to future art, but I feel like in at least one universe she would cover all of them with tattoos because she can't deal with the memories. Her eyes look completely black, but only her irises, the sclera is dark red and a bit blood shot. You can only see it when you get close.

Also she wears wigs, so I switch her hairstyle occasionally.

I try to make her as elegant as possible, but also threatening. (She's actually really sweet to the average person, but always looks annoyed. I love her, she is kind of selfish and crazy tho.) Anyways, her style, Gisele Bündchen for Alexander McQueen 1998 is the vibe she carries around.

My goal for future art is to try and make her mask/makeup more alien like.

Some outfit changes are on my to do list as well. I think they'd both rock the runway.

Thank you for asking ♡

[sepublic]

According to some FtF storyboards that were cut (presumably for time), Manny met Camila twenty years prior to the start of the series; And since the show takes place in 2022, this would’ve been during 2002. And since Luz is 14, this means Camila and Manny knew one another for six years, and at some point married during that time before eventually having Luz.

Season 1B had an episode that was scrapped called Homesick, which would’ve had Luz discover a Healing Glyph and also reflect on her parents; At this point in production, Camila was a nurse before that got retconned, but it was revealed that Manny was an ambulance driver. The FtF storyboards are much more recent and borderline canon, so we can surmise Manny and Camila did meet at a Cosmic Frontier convention, and their workplaces didn’t happen to intersect.

But if we still want to retain this detail on Manny, you can guess why Camila resonated with him and vice-versa, as people who both had a very compassionate spirit. Manny especially as someone who builds people up.

And there’s a dark irony in Manny always bringing people to hospitals, because he would be quite familiar with those who are on the verge of death, who might be skirting close to it, maybe even people who did die on the way… So he was always aware of mortality and he’d have to consider his own. And so after all this time, he would be the one being brought to a hospital, different ones, it’s why they chose Gravesfield specifically. His life and death, defined by hospitals; His peak and decline, defined by hospitals. How does Luz feel about such buildings now?

Manny would’ve empathized a lot with those in charge, but did he ever imagine he would empathize like this? Sometimes I think of the little fan theory that the Abomaton alarm genuinely triggered Luz because it reminded her of an ambulance that took her father to the hospital during a sudden medical emergency. These alarms are never pleasant anyway, nor is their context, but on some level it must hurt for something tied to her father and how he helped people to just be a reminder of how he couldn’t be helped. The hospital was once associated with her father’s heroics, but now…

On a brighter note, you could say that after helping people, Manny gets helped in return; But in the end it wasn’t enough. Or it did help, because it still got him some extra time with his family, enough to figure something out for his daughter that would keep her alive. Looking at the parallels to his daughter that he consciously taught, I wonder if Manny also wanted to be a hero; Luz’s obsession came from the book specifically, because it came from her dad.

Was Manny drawn to the medical industry to also help people? If so, he actually understood what people needed, which was more healers who could build people up. He didn’t become a cop or anything. And such a mundane and unglamorous way of life is better for the world; Because I think of how Luz wanted to be a hero, but aside from one gag with the Gildersnake, her focus has always been on helping people and not destroying her enemies.

You can see this in the good Luz has done, which comes more from helping others, some of whom were her enemies, than destroying or taking down people; The final enemy she can’t really help, Luz doesn’t even destroy herself, nor directly at least. And I think that hearkens a lot to what her father and mother do, and I wonder if that’s a specific ideal Manny had. Azura, as Luz describes it, is someone who befriends people and even enemies.

So I wonder if Manny actually read though the book, if he thought consciously what his final message was because it’s not just the act of giving the book itself, its what the book says, it’s how he’s choosing to impart his final beliefs by choosing something he thinks reflects them.

He’s not afraid of weird looks, it’s already acceptable for an adult like Mildred Featherwhyle to write this and consider her messages anyhow, so yeah he’ll read it in his hospital bed and place this under a critical lens. If anyone looks at him funny, Manny will snap at them unapologetically, Hey I’m dying, lemme have this! He wouldn’t need death as an excuse, mind you.

So Manny is an ‘author’ in a way, creating a message for his daughter, the other hidden author to Luz’s favorite fantasy. And Luz is the author of her own fantasy. Manny’s already a massive nerd, it’s what led him to Camila, to Luz, of course he’ll give that to her; It’s what leads Luz to Amity.

[jariten]

Round-up Catchup: January 2025

The timing for these have just been escaping me in all honesty but let's do some quick catchups.

The smudge imprint continues to be one of the coolest commercial translation initiatives at the moment. Getting anything from the 70's accessible this way at all is always a treat, and the range of horror manga translated expanding beyond the scope of Junji Ito I believe must be supported. The second entry UFO Mushroom Invasion by Shirakawa Marina and I def think the foundation is being laid for what will in the end be a really strong catalogue. I love more grotesque imaginings of alien terror on earth that's more about how alien life might rewire us on a base biological level, like the Daijiro Morohoshi one-shot The Living City. Also a great read for anyone who loves a manga with anecdotes that it claims to be bizarre stories from the real world.

I divided my Tokimeki Tonight re-read into increments and didn't complete it until April so in this one I will just talk a little bit what it was like to read again: Coming back to the series when I can read manga more or less fluently was incredibly affirming, it was also nice to find out that I actually picked up a lot during my first read despite being reliant on a dictionary. It also reaffirmed that it was a perfect series to start out my Japanese learning with because its SO GOOD!! It's just a pure joy to read. Ikeno Koi in this era has an impeccable sense of humor that is also strangely nostalgic for someone like me who primarily grew up with European or American cartoons and comics. And the escalation of drama is seamless, and the way the characters react to what is happening to and around them really sells it. I will get more in detail on what my renewed thoughts on the series itself in the February roundup since that's when I completed the Ranze arc. But ugh I'm so happy I did this for myself.

Knight of the Ice by Yayoi Ogawa was in one of my first roundups and stand by that if you want to support josei manga licensed in english you have to run and buy it and I'm still holding out hope for a reprint of You're My Pet in english. Since Kodansha hasn't really pulled from her catalogue since they completed Knight of the Ice I got myself Kiss and Never Cry. The story of a prodigious figure skater who decides to switch to Ice Dancing after a series of career injuries. What plays out is a sort of dual storyline. There's the story of a world class young athlete trying to rise to the top, and the story of a young girl slowly uncovering and working through trauma from childhood sexual abuse. Ogawa approaches the effect of the trauma with lots of sympathy and patience why clearly trying to avoid being graphic. And its commitment for there to be healing and justice in the end was ultimately really moving to me, especially when its become so hard to believe in in real life.

Last one isn't a recommendation for a specific title but rather a little spotlight on a truly random manga artist that fell in my lap. To give a picture on how unread manga is piled up in my house (and therefore cannot solicit recs) in 2023 I bought some lady's old collection of Japanese manga and I'm just now getting close to reading all of it. It was pretty interesting to inherit a whole collection this way, it wasn't super big but she had committed to specific artists. One of them was Naomi Watanabe (no relation to the comedian/actress of the same name). Watanabe was active in Kodansha's Bessatsu Friend from about the late 80's to late 90's and she mostly produced short works for them. The most consistent themes in her were works were dark and violent twists, disassociative identities, or characters experiencing breaks from reality. I ended up reading a lot of these in somewhat rapid succession so the characters would blend together as she was very much a "I managed to figure out my ideal male lead so I will do him over and over" type. But it was so interesting to experience her work as I don't think I would've stumbled across her at all since she never had a serious hit and eventually ended up in the Harlequin manga machine.

[tetsunabouquet]

Jinx as an Artist- Headcanons

A/N: Given how Jinx is amongst the most divisive S2 characters and I already had a debate about her in my comment section for my Isha headcanons, I wanted to write something light-hearted about Jinx. Heavily features Silco and the way she bonded with him specifically over her likes.

-For one, let's talk about her love for neon paint. As an artist who loves using neon paint (as you can see in my archive when looking at my paintings), I do need to point out that Jinx must own a LOT. For one, she uses it often and secondly, neon paint has a less stronger coverage then your average type of paint and often requires a few layers. -Which brings me to the production of that very paint. Because just what is the origin of neon paint within the world of Arcane? Because of the properties, I am betting my ass Silco has been using Shimmer variations for the luminous properties to make a huge painting supply for Jinx as he thought a little bit of painting would do wonders for her mental health. Plus, tell me Silco wouldn't produce a huge drug-based painting supply in the face of a pouting Jinx. It's so in line for him being a soft daddy druglord. -When Jinx took some interest into the production, she learnt about pigment in detail and started applying that to different things, like colored smoke to improve on her techniques. -Jinx also knows how to sew. I mean, who'd make Claggor and Milo plushies for her and make them feel accurate to her memories of them? She totally made them herself. -Her pants are also one of her own creations. I mean, she could feel insulted over the Enforcer mocking her image, but knowing Jinx' creativity and the fact she must know how to sew, it's easy to deduce she made her pants and felt upset someone was insulting her creations. I get the feeling girl. -Given Silco low-key being a fashionista, I have a feeling whoever made his clothes (if it's not Silco himself) was the one to teach Jinx how to sew, something that is further supported by AU Powder having a leather jacket similar to a younger Silco and even AU Milo looking like Silco taught him a thing or two about fashion. It's clear Silco cares more about how his children dress up like then Vander does. -Speaking off AU Powder's leather jacket, I can totally imagine that if glitter existed in the Arcane universe, those totally would have been decorated with glitter considering she likes to stand out. Can you imagine Jinx's tattoos being a glittery blue pattern on her jacket sleeves? Because I can. I also can imagine some glitter added to her pink eyeliner when she goes out too. -I can totally imagine mornings with Jinx just sewing some kind of clothing item next to Silco who's reading Piltover's newspaper and Sevika bursting in with some kind of emergency and promptly needing to recover from walking into the almost Victorian era domestic scene and having total whiplash as how can they look so fucking peaceful?

[kingofattolia]

Kenobi Rewatch: Episode Two

• Honestly, Reva deciding to kidnap Bail Organa's kid because of some random thing she found in the """""archives""""" linking Bail and Obi-Wan is the most tenuous plan EVER. It fully would not have worked if it weren't for the secret Skywalker twins situation, which she did not even know about. That's Force intuition for you baybeeee.

• Also, I will go to my grave believing that what she found in the """"archives"""" was the Zigoola mission report. Because. If anything would convince you some kind of undying bond existed between Obi-Wan and Bail, it's that.

• ALSO, the archives? The ones in the Jedi Temple, which is now Palpatine's PALACE? Or some other set of archives? I'm struggling to imagine Reva casually going to the now-extremely-cursed Sith Palace, the place where her former life ended, to access the library.

• "I was someone's daughter once, too." For some reason this gets me. Like, yeah. Exactly.

• Whoever wrote the clone veteran beggar into this - I drink to you, sir. That's the kind of horrible, specific detail that I deeply respect.

• "Goodness, that light is unforgiving." Obi-Wan is being a twit. Nature is healing.

• "You came to us from the gutter." Uhh, you mean the mcfreaking Jedi Order? The exact same Jedi Order that YOU, the Grand Inquisitor, also came from? This must be a reference to some life Reva lived between Order 66 and being captured by the Inquisitorius because it makes no sense otherwise.

• Obi-Wan may be cut off from the Force, out of practice, disillusioned and depressed, but one thing he will never stop being is intensely scrappy. To me, the scene where he gets beat up and then gasses all the bounty hunters is a subtextual essay on Jedi Apprentice by Jude Watson. If you even care.

• Leia muttering "granddaughter, maybe" is SOOOO FUNNY TO ME. Obi-Wan is ten years younger than Bail.

• "How can I trust you, when I know you're hiding something?" I love one (1) Force sensitive baby <3<3<3

• "How old are you?" GIRL YOU WERE THERE AT HER BIRTH. It's okay, we get it. He's been living in a fugue state since Order 66 and hasn't really processed anything.

• Telling a little girl "GOOD" that her pet droid was smashed. Bastard <3

• Haja is funny, but what's important to me about him is that I LOVE AND ADORE "person turns out to be good and selfless against all odds for no reason" trope.

• Reva does a lot of leaping around on rooftops this episode, and for some reason it all just looks weird and awkward. Not to mention being too dark to really see.

• "Is it THAT hard to believe you might have friends??" yeah I'm ;_;

• Obi-Wan is a lightning rod for the hopes and wounds of every person in the galaxy. Whoever Haja may be now, he clearly at one point in the past had some kind of sincere admiration for the Jedi and Obi-Wan specifically. Reva is externalizing all of her pain and betrayal onto him as a proxy for the whole Order. This has always been true, and it's lowkey a good thing he doesn't and has never realized this.

• They really really really did the Grand Inquisitor dirty. You can't tell me that's the best they could do with makeup for a Pau'an.

• The way Obi-Wan holds his lightsaber like he doesn't know what it is................ I'm not ok.

• Reva is so flip with Anakin's name. Does everyone in the Inquisitorius know the whole backstory? Obi-Wan explains who the Inquisitors are to Leia, so he knows about them and what they do, but has never heard Darth Vader mentioned before? So many questions.

• The whispered "Anakin" and then VIOLENT CUT TO VADER IN THE BACTA TANK. AHNHHMHHHHHHHGHGHGH.

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter eleven

summary: you receive bad news, but luca is there for you. and it seems like he's intent on continuing to be there for you.

warnings: angst, grief, death, vomiting, fluff, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 3.3k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist (specifically 'how to mend a broken heart' - al green & 'love' - kendrick lamar; another very will poulter-coded choice)

a/n: pov: it's me warning you that there is in fact angst but trust, babes. trust. after the trauma of meeting donna b in season 2, i wanted to explore characters who had positive relationships with their mothers. so if you have not picked up on it yet, this story is also about mothers **cries because it's too damn sweet. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part ten | masterlist | part twelve

Astrid: Hey give me a call when you’re up. 

I don’t want to worry you, but we need to talk. 

Your fingers hurriedly move to open up the multiple missed notifications that you have from her, holding the phone up to your ear so that you can listen to her voicemail next. 

“Hey… I know you’re probably still asleep right now,” you hear, her voice somber, as you listen to Astrid’s voicemail, left for you at three in the morning. “And I know that you’ve got your do not disturb on. But I really need to talk. Call me when you’re up.” 

Your heart pounds in your chest as your mind races with fears over what this could be about, and as your eyes scroll through the other missed notifications, you see something that stops you in your tracks: 

1 Missed Call from Joe

And it all suddenly feels real, a sense of dread fills your throat, and you can only imagine that it must be an emergency if both Astrid and Joe have called. Your mind races. It can’t be about Joe – if he called too, right?

The severity of the situation forces you to sit up straight as you steal a glance Luca’s way. You’re grateful that he’s such a heavy sleeper as you peel the covers back, tiptoeing out into the living room so that you don’t wake Luca. Your fingers shake as they hover over Astrid’s name, before tapping down on the screen so that you can give her a call back. 

It only rings twice before Astrid answers, a tiredness in the way her voice sounds, as if she hasn’t slept all night. 

“Hey, Astrid. What’s going on?” you ask, a panic that colors your voice as you wait for her reply. 

The anticipation builds in every moment of silence she leaves between the two of you. 

“It’s mum. Ehm…” she trails off, her voice breaking. 

No. 

It’s as if your worst nightmare is coming true – like no matter how many times you’ve rehearsed this scenario in your head, prepared for it, braced for it, nothing softens the blow of the words that Astrid utters. 

“She’s gone. She passed. Early this morning,” Astrid finally says, a sob following. “We’re still at the hospital right now.” 

As Astrid begins to cry, you let her, even though you feel like you can’t breathe. Through her tears, she tries her best to explain what happened and you can feel yourself going numb as you listen. You can barely process what she’s saying as the words wash over you, a deep pain building in your belly with each detail she shares: that mum hadn’t been feeling well late last night, that she had a fever of 104 F and that’s when they knew she had to be taken to the hospital, that she passed a few hours later. 

It was sudden. 

It was quick. 

And now, Astrid’s whole world – your whole world, and Joe’s – has changed forever.

All you can do is attempt to breathe, to listen, and try your best not to drop your phone as your hands tremble.

You can feel it, a sickening feeling that wells up from your belly and into your throat as you croak out:

“Astrid, I’m so sorry.”

“After everything we’ve been through, all the rounds of chemo… I just can’t believe that overnight she’s gone,” Astrid whispers, tears falling down her cheeks. “I just-, I thought we’d have more time.”

“I know. Me too,” you agree quietly. 

It doesn’t feel real, and you wonder if you’re just in denial. 

“I’m so sorry to call like this. But I thought you should know,” Astrid apologizes, clearing her throat as she continues. “‘M sure I ruined your high from the all-night shag-fest with the hot pastry chef, now didn’t I?”

You chuckle, in response to her attempt to lighten the mood. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you called,” you reassure her, your voice soft. 

“I’ve got to go. Joe and I are going to try to grab something to eat and ehm, try to get a hold of Lina. I’ll keep you posted on everything. On all the details, you know… about… anything we do,” Astrid informs you, trying her best to pull herself together.  

“But I just wanted you to know and ehm, well, I know Joe called.”

“No, I-. Yeah,” you stammer through, at a loss for words. “I… I’ll give him a call. And thank you… for calling me. Thank you for telling me.”

Astrid nods solemnly, “She loved you like one of us.”

You swallow, as a stream of tears streak your cheeks 

“Yeah I… I love – loved – her too.” 

You clear your throat, unaware that your hands have begun to shake. 

“And please keep me posted. I’d like to be there… at the funeral. If you think it’s appropriate.”

“‘Course,” Astrid agrees. “I love you. Call you later?”

“Please. And… yes,” you say, adding if it’s a promise:

“I love you too.”

As soon as you hang up the phone, it’s as if your body knows something you don’t – like your brain hasn’t quite processed the news, racing your body to intellectualize everything you’ve just heard, so your body has to take over instead. Your stomach flips, and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with the urge to vomit. You sprint to your small apartment bathroom, throwing the toilet seat up with a clang as you begin to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet, in an uncontrollable physical response.

The sound of you retching, coughing up the last of it, seems to wake up Luca. You brace yourself against the toilet, flushing it as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Your body feels fragile and your mind races as you reach behind you for the towel that lays folded over your towel bar, clutching it towards you. 

“My love, is everything alright?” you hear his voice, as Luca stirs, sitting up in bed. 

The sound of his footsteps heading towards you fill your ears, and as they get closer and closer to you, Luca appears in the doorway, his eyes squinting from how jarring of a wakeup he’s just had. You look up at him, noticing the way his face has twisted itself into a look of concern, swallowing as you rack your brain, searching for a way to explain what just happened. 

“Well, the good news is that I’m not pregnant,” is all that comes out, in sheer disbelief that you’ve chosen to make a joke at this moment. Luca only looks more concerned, more worried, more confused, so you shake your head this time, muttering an apology under your breath. “Uh… remember when I told you… my ex’s mom… she got really sick and we had to move to the UK because of it?”

“Yeah,” he answers, unsure of what this has to do with why you’re stuck to the bathroom floor. 

“I-. Astrid, his sister, just called. She uh…” you trail off, because it feels like you can’t get the words out of your mouth – like if you say it out loud, it’d make it all the more real. 

Your voice, this time much somber, croaks out the words, and you feel sick to your stomach again.

“She passed… last night,” you finally say again, a wave of nausea coming over you. 

“Oh, my love,” Luca sighs empathetically, as his heart falls at the news. “I’m so sorry.”

But before he can say anything else, you’re folded over the toilet once more, caught up in a competition with your own body of which could be worse: dry heaving or vomiting. Instead of leaving, Luca takes a few steps towards you, sitting down next to you as he rubs soothing patterns across your back, as you work this out. What feels like forever, and simultaneously, barely a few seconds, your back is pressed against the wall as you try your best to get your heart rate back down. 

The cold floor and the rigid wall that you’ve pressed your back against feels grounding, perhaps the only thing tethering you to this world. Luca sits with you quietly, but his presence can be felt in tonnes. It’s strong, steady, comforting, with care and love in every single touch and touch he sends your way. 

After a few minutes of letting you stare at the wall blankly, Luca gets up, kneeling on his knees as he offers his hands to you. 

“C’mon. Let’s get you some water and back into bed,” Luca suggests. “I’ll call Jesper and Mathilde. Let them know you’re not going in today.”

You nod, sliding both of your hands into his as he helps to your feet. 

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

“How are you doing, babe?” Luca asks you, as you wake up from your nap. 

You’re grateful that he called in today, after the news, and called in for you as well. After your phone call with Astrid, not to mention hurling the entire contents of your stomach (and then some) into the toilet this morning, you’d crawled back into bed and fallen asleep. It hadn’t been great sleep – more so an avoidance mechanism than anything else, you realize – as you begin to come to. 

“Jesper was just here. Came by to drop off food,” Luca adds, as you move onto your side so that you can face him. “They’re worried about you.”

“I’m not hungry,” is all you manage to say. 

He nods, “For later maybe.” 

He pauses, before repeating his question from earlier. 

“How are you doing? What can I do?

You think it over, only slightly upset with yourself for being annoyed at his question. Of course he’s only trying to be helpful, only trying to care for you through this horrible thing. But it’s not like there’s anything he can do to take your pain away either, which, it’s silly you know, is what bothers you so much about his ask. 

But as you look over at the man who wants nothing more than to love you, and you know he’s only trying to be helpful in an unwinnable situation.

You muster up your best smile, because you want to reassure him that you’re sort of-kind-of-okay, and you’d rather try than be a jerk right now. 

“Come back to bed?” you ask him, your voice lifting at the end of the question. “I think I just want you to hold me.”

“Sounds like something that could be arranged,” Luca replies with a smile on his face, in an attempt to lighten up the mood a little. 

As you lay on your side, Luca curls up behind you, engulfing you in his arms as he presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, tangling his legs with yours underneath the covers. And you’re right. It does make you feel better – being held by him – and you’re glad that you chose not to push him away. 

After a few beats, and a thick silence between the two of you, Luca finally speaks again.

“Do you want to tell me about her?”

Do you?

You debate with yourself whether or not you want to, because on one hand you feel weird about it – asking Luca to listen to you talk about how much you loved your ex husband’s mother – and on the other, you’re afraid. 

Afraid it’ll hurt too much. 

Afraid it may break you open. 

Eventually, the part of you that leans towards saying ‘yes’ wins, as you answer with:

“Yeah. I think that might be helpful.” 

Luca nods behind you, before nuzzling his nose into the space between your neck and your shoulders. He leaves soft kisses against your skin that have no intention of being anything but a comforting gesture. 

“Astrid said something on the phone earlier. That she loved me like one of them,” you start, your voice caught in your throat as you say it. 

“And she did. She embraced me as her own… like…” you trail off, chuckling as you recall your favorite memories of Aiko Kimura. 

“She was beyond upset to learn that I didn’t grow up pleating dumplings around the table when I was a kid, which was… I think maybe the first thing we ever cooked together. She pulled out all the stops. Made a huge thing of it and made Joe, Astrid, and Lina join us so that I could get the real family experience.”

“And every time after that… she always wanted to teach me something new, something I could learn, carry with me,” you continue, the memories so fond and the feeling so bittersweet. 

“She was all about… slowing down, using the senses, no-recipe kind of stuff. I think it’s where I got so much of my heart from. In my food.”

You’re really not sure how you’re keeping it together, but, you decide, you might as well lean into the sweetness for now. 

“I should do a dish. For her. At the restaurant,” you declare, coming to the conclusion as the words leave your lips. 

“I think that’s a great idea,” Luca agrees, leaving another soft kiss along your shoulder. 

“To honor her. You know?” you add. 

Luca only hums in response, his arms wrapped around your frame holding you tighter against his chest. 

You wait a beat. 

Then another, your thoughts, moving a mile a minute from being plunged into grief from this devastating loss. 

“I’m nervous – about going to London,” you confess, softly. You like to ask, usually, if it’s okay – if Luca wants to hear about these kinds of things – but it feels virtually unavoidable. 

“I haven’t been back since Joe and I divorced… since I moved here. But I think I should. For the funeral.”

“Do you think it’ll be soon?” Luca asks, as you turn your head to look at him, checking that this is a conversation he’s willing to have. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I’m waiting for Astrid to tell me. But Lina’s, their youngest sister, has been studying abroad – Singapore – so… I don’t know.”

“I’m just nervous… about it all, I guess. A lot’s changed. I’ve… changed.”

At this point you’re just thinking out loud, no longer able to contain the stream of consciousness that flows from with an ease that makes you anxious. 

Of course, you’ve changed. You have a new life here. You’re a you that you’ve never been before, having shed the layers of your past self like a snake shedding its skin. The realization is striking, while your ambivalence to return to your previous home in your new form feels more and more significant. 

It’s Luca’s turn to be quiet as he thinks over whether or not the idea in his head is appropriate to suggest, figuring, the worst thing you can do is say ‘no.’ 

“I could go with you,” he offers, quiet, yet sure. 

Oh. 

“But if you don’t feel like it would be right… under the circumstances…” Luca continues, in fear of making things more complicated for you. 

“No I-. What do you-, like… in what capacity?” you interject, hesitant about the question that you’re bringing up. 

You’re not sure why it’s taken this long for either of you to articulate it, especially since you’ve already called him your boyfriend to your friends, to your mom, but the naming, the voicing of the sacred label is still something you haven’t done. 

You don’t want to overcomplicate things, considering it already feels complicated, so what you’re really asking him is:

How would I introduce you?

“I was thinking… as your boyfriend,” Luca answers, slowly. “But if you think it’s too much – introducing me during this-.” 

“No, I. Yes! I want to,” you’re quick to reply, reassuring him that you’re still all in, even in the midst of this loss – especially in the midst of this loss. You wiggle your body so that you’re now facing him, your chests pressed together, and you wonder if he can feel yours pounding away. 

“Yes. I want you to come. I… I want to introduce you to them… to everyone, as my boyfriend.”

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Luca leans in to press a short kiss to your lips before nodding in agreement: “Okay.”

You wait a beat, almost as if you think he’ll take it back, considering the circumstances. Only, he doesn’t, so you have to ask. 

“You would really do that?”

“Yeah,” he replies, simply. 

“I mean.. It’s just going to be a lot. It’s… a fucking funeral,” you continue to list, giving him every ‘out’ that you can possibly think of. “And you’d have to meet Joe. Which I can only imagine will be incredibly uncomfortable considering the circumstances and I’m not even sure what to expect because Joe and I have barely talked in months and I-.” 

You know you’re rambling, but you can’t help yourself. 

“Luca, I don’t know if I can ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to, my love. I offered,” he says, as one of his hands cradles your head, his eyes on yours. 

“Plus, I don’t have to be with you the whole time. I know it’s going to be a tough trip for a lot of reasons. I could give you some space while we’re there too, so you don’t feel you have to entertain me. I’ll go see my mum, catch up with a friend….”

His reassurance seems to quell your nerves and you’re no longer panicking (as much) about introducing your people to your new boyfriend while grieving the loss of their matriarch. But you want him there. You so want him there. You want his support, and when he’s so willingly offering it to you, volunteering to enter the lion’s den with you, how can you say ‘no?’

“Why are you so good to me?” is all that comes out of your mouth. 

“Because I-,” Luca begins, pausing as he carefully chooses his next few words. You watch as he debates with himself, his decision clear when he opens his mouth again to say:

“Because you deserve it, babe.”

It’s then and there that you wonder what he was going to say before, half expecting him to say, ‘because I love you.’ 

But he doesn’t, and in some ways, you’re glad that whatever internal decision he made, that it wasn’t that. It’s not that you don’t want him to, because you’ve been feeling it too. It’s in every pause before you hang up the phone with him. It’s in the moments that you say your goodbyes for the morning or the evening that you watch the impulse, though fleeting, flash through his eyes. It’s in the way that you feel it so deeply in your bones that it makes you ache in the best kinds of ways. 

 You don’t want your first ‘I love you’ to be tainted with the grief and sadness surrounding this moment, but it’s been on your mind ever since your trip to Skagen. You think maybe you dreamed it, hearing him call you the love of his life, but whether or not it was real, those three words have hung heavily between the two of you ever since. 

“Thank you,” is all you say, before you repeat it again. 

“Thank you.”

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

Everything feels off. You can’t cry. 

And you’ve tried. 

But ever since Luca left to run an errand, to run to the store, you’ve felt off-kilter. 

Perhaps it’s because you’ve had him to distract you this whole time. 

Perhaps it’s because you’re trying to be strong for everyone: for Astrid, for Lina, who you’ve been texting with all day – trying to coordinate a time to FaceTime – for yourself. 

Perhaps it’s because you haven’t called Joe yet. 

But, you’ve decided, you really need to cry. 

You pick up the phone, knowing exactly what you need to do, knowing exactly who you can let yourself completely fall apart with. 

The phone rings a few times before the person on the other line picks up, and as soon as you hear the silence on the other line, waiting for you to speak first since you called first. 

“Mom?”

And she can hear it in your voice as it breaks, concern and worry filling her every word and she asks: 

“Oh sweetie. What happened?”

And finally, you can let go.

[a-mx-writer]

Postscriptum: Analysis

This was initially posted as chapter 49 of my longfic Marked for Life on AO3. The actual last chapter, 48, was inundated with upset comments; this is the response. Archived here on Tumblr as well now.

Story spoilers ahead!

After getting a truckload of comments about how the last chapter [of Marked for Life] is disappointing, came out of nowhere, feels like a plot twist for twist's sake, undercuts all prior chapters, etc., I'm getting tired of typing out explanations over and over, so here's the abridged version (detailed ones in the comments of said chapter):

This was always how it was meant to end: unhappily. I wrote this ending, nearly word for word as it is now, very early during the writing process (the earliest version I can find is December 28) and revised it very little after. I've been working towards this ending throughout the entire story and in my opinion, it is the logical escalation of the pair's relationship. They were never headed for "and they lived happily ever after"; I tried to set them up for failure as clearly as possible. Their entire relationship throughout the story has been shaped by conflict, by anger, abuse, and a disastrous lack of good coping skills.

They spend the first two years of this story hating each others' guts. They try to kill each other several times, they torture each other. It takes them two years just to get to a point of being able to work together. Just to re-emphasise, this is a relationship between a sadistic, genocidal imperialist and monarch, and her "common", tortured slave. I get it, we all love to see redemption and happy endings and overcoming challenges, but this is not such a story. If you feel misled, I must point out I specifically didn't tag Azula Redemption, Happy Ending, or anything of the sorts, and I pointed out the violent and complicated nature of their relationship from the start.

I ask you, if you hated the ending, to re-examine it under the following aspects.

Both of them are headstrong and assertive, steadfast in their belief in their own moral superiority and that of their belief system. Even when they get along, even when they get together, when Azula gets over her idea that Katara is a savage who needs taming, cultural and class differences still stand between them. Katara's disgust at the Fire Nation führerkult worship of the Fire Lord, at the rich people sport of hunting for pleasure, and her self-loathing at the realisation she has gotten used to servants; Azula's belittling of what she sees as Katara's naivety and her insistence that she will rule as she sees fit. Azula maintains that she is making peace not due to some ethical change of heart, but out of necessity. Under different circumstances, she would have campaigned until the world lay in ruins. She is making peace because it is the best way to ensure her survival and that of her nation, not because she suddenly sees how wrong the war is. In the same vein, she makes it clear that while she regrets torturing Katara, it's because she has since developed feelings for her, and her continued use of these methods, like incarcerating every associate – aide, family member, servants – of suspected traitors, or convicting innocent suspects to make sure they don't harbour resentment over their arrest, makes it very clear that her moral compass hasn't suddenly spun around. She remains fully convinced in her birthright to the throne, in the absolute nature of her authority, etc., and Katara takes extreme issue with that.

They put those differences aside for the more important cause of peace, but it's only natural that they would resurface once the external pressure of having to save their lives by making peace is no longer a concern. Imagine if they had married – a Fire Lady who calls into question the legitimacy of her Fire Lord? Who undermines the Fire Lord's authority, who rejects the culture of worship that she and her wife are entitled to? Conflict was always in their future.

Civilising Katara, Azula’s project. Bettering Azula, Katara’s project. Destined for friction, for collisions.

That is exactly what I meant. Azula would try to integrate Katara into her culture and class, whether outright and directly, or whether simply indirectly by taking issue with Katara's not fitting in, and Katara would try the same in reverse, trying to get Azula to let go of these traditions and political system. Because, in the end, can any of you imagine "I will never ignore people who need help"-Katara not trying to intervene in what she sees as an oppressive, indoctrinating system? And can any of you imagine born-to-rule-Azula just throwing 100s of years of Fire Nation culture out the window to reform it into a democracy with due process and civil rights?

But that's only one half. Because the other is the relationship between them, their emotional balance if you will.

I started them out quite violent. They both try to kill each other several times, they both get physically abusive towards each other. Azula burning Katara for fun and torturing her for information, Katara massacring half the palace in her escape attempts. The eventually reach an equilibrium of mutually assured death, but once they get together, that changes again. They're no longer looking to kill each other, but their conflicts get much more personal now, because while there's still the captor/monarch–prisoner imbalance between them, they ostensibly speak eye to eye, or at least closer to eye level, with each other. And here, they actually get more violent again. Katara slaps Azula, they beat each other up, etc. When two people who are in a romantic relationship take their conflicts out with violence, we tend to call that "domestic violence" and we consider that a bad thing.

But later, that happens less. They get in shouting matches, have from the start, but it lessens. When Katara speaks with Zuko, a clearly displeased Azula just says she doesn't want to fight about it. And a lot of readers took that as a good sign, as a sign of progress in their relationship. And it is, but it isn't solely good. Avoiding violence is great, yes, but what we have here is conflict avoidance. And that's not great. Because conflict is a thing that happens; even the most happy couple will disagree on something at some point. And the solution to that is to talk it out. Communication. Avoiding that instead simply leaves the conflict unresolved, or resolved to the dissatisfaction of one party. And that breeds resentment.

What will happen to them if this keeps happening? Azula will, time and time again, choose to drop a disagreement, rather than risk fighting about it. And she will be dissatisfied and angry each time. Over time, she will come to dread conflict, get pre-emptively angry at the prospect of disagreements, because she'll know it will end with her giving up to avoid a fight. And eventually, as they continue to disagree (like on any of the subjects listed above), she will come to hate or dread speaking to Katara entirely. Ask me how I know.

This transition away from physical altercations and towards bad coping strategies was intended to set up this ending and show that their relationship isn't getting all that much healthier, just less overtly abusive. That seems to not have come across quite clearly, because most of the comments celebrated the end of violence and took it as a sign of their improvement, which it really wasn't intended to be. And thus the escalation of that – Fire Lord Azula, later in life, removing herself from the international stage, and turning to isolationism and xenophobia for her people, taking conflict avoidance to the diplomatic extreme – caught many readers unprepared.

And then the last puzzle piece: the evolution of their characters.

One of the key themes of this story is the way Azula gets better while Katara gets worse (as measured by Katara's moral standards). Azula gives up on conquest, loses her lust for world domination; she discovers her own sexuality and in the process makes life better for many persecuted people in her nation. At the same time, Katara learns to manipulate Azula, she takes an incredible amount of lives, she bloodbends several times despite her vow never to. She becomes more comfortable than she'd like giving orders to Fire Nation soldiers, she integrates herself into the court, and she is an accessory to torture and execution. And she loathes herself for it every step of the way, and later hates how comfortable she's become with it all. As she says at the end, those three years have left scars on her. She will never be the same.

And this becomes evident in her fate after the story. She becomes the chieftain of her tribe and leads ambitiously. One could call it ruthless, one could call it driven, goal-minded, and standing her ground. And they point is, all of these are qualities she's possessed before. All I've done is dial them up a little, dial down her inhibitions a little, and infuse her with some things she's learned from Azula. Because Katara has always, throughout the show, been ambitious, never one to take shit from anyone (Pakku showdown), and occasionally morally quite flexible – waterbending scroll, Painted Lady, etc. And, crucially, she is very caring and places great value on kindness, helping others, and taking care of your own. As the comics show, she also cares a great deal about the future of her tribe (such as when she clashes with Sokka over the degree of industrialisation the South should or should not receive). I don't think it's a far reach to imagine her eventually (no, I didn't specify a time frame; no, it doesn't happen immediately after her return five years later) succeeding Hakoda as chief.

She has a chip on her shoulder regarding the Northern Water Tribe's culture of sex segregation and misogynistic oppression, so she doesn't conclude the reunification efforts begun before her ascension to the chieftainship. She feels the SWT is owed something for its destruction and the lack of help it received, so she claims now-unowned former Fire Nation territory for her people, stares the Earth King down over it and wins. She carves out a place for her people – without whom the war would not have been won – in the new world, to provide for them, to get what she sees as justice. She's always been ambitious and tough, and now she's gotten a taste of real power, real authority, from Azula and liked it more than she would have been comfortable with in the past. And perhaps being one half of the couple who made peace, achieved what none did before, has gotten to her head, but either way, she's used to getting what she wants now, she's used to calling the shots now, and she's already once delivered justice in the form of the peace. She's still the teenage girl challenging a sexist teacher to throw hands, she's still the girl who disguised herself to help people in need, and she's still the girl who snaps at her brother who disrespects her people's culture and arts. She's all that, but she's grown up, and the three years with Azula have shaped her.

If you previously disliked the last chapter, I hope at this point you're saying something like, okay, it makes sense like that, but where was all that in the story?

It was there.

I hoped it was quite clear enough; evidently it wasn't. I thought I had foreshadowed it extensively, perhaps not extensively enough. Throughout the story, I made sure to contrast good moments with bad ones. They get together, but not without a screaming match and a huge breakdown. They make out at the dojo, and then Azula goes all wrath-of-god on the servant and triggers Katara into a full-on flashback, and Katara has the realisation that she's been looking at Azula through rose-tinted glasses and that the cruelty is still there. They have a romantic retreat (if not quite voluntarily) to Ember Island, some domestic bliss – and then Azula has a panic attack and they fight. They make up, and then Azula makes it clear she is still who she was, will still govern as she sees fit, disillusions Katara as to her change of heart or lack thereof. They want to make up, they beat each other up when Azula says insensitive things. Katara is reunited with her friends, Azula insults her and calls her loyalty into question. She talks with Zuko and has a lovely afternoon, Azula snaps at her and then refuses to talk about it.

One step forward, two steps back, that was the idea behind writing all of that. The world gets better, in the end, but they've paid a high personal price for it, and every little bit of silver lining for their relationship is bought at the expense of being abusive towards each other, or mistrusting each other, bought with pain, heartbreak, or violence.

I hoped by showing that, and by sowing the seeds of their conflicts early – the class difference, the cultural difference, their wildly differing morals and ideals, and their inability to constructively resolve conlicts –, I would have spelled "doomed by the narrative" all over their relationship.

It appears that at least for some readers, a much more substantial amount than I assumed, it wasn't enough. I'm sorry you didn't enjoy the ending, I really am.

But at the end of the day, I've told the story I set out to tell. I never promised a happily ever after. I made the two of them go, as one of you put it, through hell and back, and they've come out as scarred, hurting people. Nobody said going through hell was a guarantee for happiness.

I hope to have sufficiently explained my reasoning. I hate to ruin the lovely chapter count of 48, but I couldn't fit all of this into an author's note, and the stream of disappointed comments compelled me to explaian the matter once and for all, which I have hereby done.

This post on AO3