#question: do you plan the entire fic out or wing it?

[wlwloversreads]

this chapter had me giggling like an idiot. they are so cute. i just want to squeeze their little cheeks and give them a big kiss. my little babies. i think ill do a second reblog, when i reread it cause i think this is my favorite chapter yet. 🤭

unsolved (viii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal, the passage of time, panicking,

A/N: omg guys new banner reveal. i put a flower on that man because i felt like it. personally thrilled that we have made it this far because that means it's only 2 more chapters to 10 and then we're in double digits. also unsolved drabble requests are very welcome and encouraged please ily THANKS BYE

Previous part || Series masterlist

“I don’t get it,” Bucky says, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

Inside the room, the air is thick with dust and the scent of aged metal. The walls are lined with dark wooden beams, their surfaces weathered by time, and the faint smell of oil and rust lingers in the air. 

“It’s a haunted clock tower,” you reply, walking up the stairs, floorboards creaking generously under you. 

“I got that,” he retorts, “but what the hell is it supposed to haunt? All the search results were just some kids' show.”

In the center of the room stands the massive, intricate clock mechanism, the gears and cogs slowly gathering rust as the years have passed without maintenance. Moonlight through the giant clock face casts a faint glow into the dimly lit room.

“I’m surprised you checked the internet,” you tell him, “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was an undercover agent for 80 years. I know how to use technology.”

“You’re also older than the concept of time, so you can see how that may confuse some people,” you reply, taking a tour around the room. “Second, I’m surprised you checked the internet.”

“You already said that.”

You stop in your tracks, hand on your chest as you say, “Yes, but you’re researching things now? For our show? That’s real sweet, babygirl.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he continues to climb up. “It was one Google search.”

“It’s one more than what you’ve done in the last 3 months,” you say, eyelashes fluttering comically at him before your demeanor returns to normal. “Anyway, there’s no like, ghost sightings here, per se–”

Bucky comes to a halt only two steps away from his door. “Then why are we here?” 

“It’s still haunted, Bucky,” you chastise. “That doesn’t always mean ghosts. Maybe it could mean orbs. Or shadow people, like from the hospital–”

“Not a thing.”

The clock creaked and groaned, the hands inching forward, their motion sluggish and uneven, as if the gears hadn't been properly oiled in years. With every tick, a loud whine echoed through the tower, vibrating the air in the otherwise silent room.

“Ooh, maybe we’ll find our doppelgangers.” Your eyes shine. “What would you do with yours?”

“Nothing.” Steve met another version of himself once and immediately beat the shit out of it, if that was anything to go by.   

“Not even a date?”

His eyebrows knit together, eyes creasing. “Why would I date my doppelganger?”

“Who’s gonna know you better than yourself? But the more important question is, would you fu–”

The noise from the clock grows more intense—a final, desperate groan before it comes to a jarring halt. 

The ticking stops abruptly, leaving an unnatural silence hanging in the air. The hands remain frozen at 9. 

Both of you are left staring at a now defunct clock. 

“Clock died ‘cause of your stupid question,” Bucky comments, voice dry. 

“Just say you don’t like modern philosophy and go.” 

“Oh I’m going alright. Two hours and all we’ve gotten footage of is stairs, trash and a washout Big Ben.”

“Don’t insult Kinley Clock Tower like that,” you scold. “You’re gonna piss it off and it’s gonna haunt us for the rest of our days.”

Bucky gives you a flat look. “By doing what.”

“Showing you the wrong time wherever you go.”

“Devastating,” Bucky responds, not sounding fazed in the slightest. “Right, so nothing haunted here?”

“Maybe it’s haunted by the failure of proper clock maintenance.”

Bucky’s eyes sweep across the largely empty room one last time. “Other than that toolbox, place’s empty. Chalk this one up to bullshit and let’s go.”

You let out a deep sigh at the thought of a wasted evening. “Fine, but that means we have to find another idea for a video.”

“Use one of the reserves.”

“We’re gonna have to, if we can’t find anything by tomorrow.”

Bucky’s heavy footsteps echo through the staircase. “That is a problem for tomorrow-you to deal with.”

You let out a scoff, following behind. “Tomorrow-us.”

“No,” he replies thoughtfully. “Pretty sure I got it right.”

Whatever. You counted tonight as a win the second you managed to get Bucky out of the compound without having to lie out of your ass. He even threw in a Google search worth of research. And he even told you the batteries on the cameras were all charged. Small steps for a regular co-host, big step for Buckykind everywhere. 

The elevator stops at his floor and he gets out, sending you a two finger wave on his way out. 

Should I walk you to your door?” you throw in at the last minute, the makings of a smile on your face. 

Bucky casts you an indignant look. “Why?”

“Chivalry, baby.” You grin, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “Didn't they literally invent it in your era?”

Bucky flips you the finger instead, not bothering to dignify you with a response. Your laughter subsides as the elevator closes on you with a ding.

Bucky sees a faint light in the hallway, and figures Steve’s slightly ajar door is its source. In between trudging back to his bedroom, he drops a quick knock on it.

“Come in,” Steve calls, voice deep from the sleepiness starting to set in. “Oh, you’re back.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies from the doorway. “Shoot got done early.”

“Where’d you go?” he asks, laying down his book beside him. 

“Kinley Tower,” Buck stands with his arms pulled over his chest, leaning against the doorway. “Place was a dud. Nothing to see.”

“What about other things?” Steve asks, curious but still casually indirect. “How was it?” 

Bucky shrugs. “The same. Bounced right back, like nothing ever happened.” 

“You still don’t know what Nat was talking about?” 

“No,” Bucky replies, scratching the back of his neck, before hesitantly saying, “Should I be asking? I don’t know if we’re— y’know.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re friends by now, Buck.” Steve smiles briefly. “Wouldn’t hurt to check in.”

Well, Steve may be sure, but Bucky wasn’t. Then again Steve only had 1 best friend for over a hundred years until he met Sam, so how the fuck would he know. 

Still, Bucky gives a curt nod, glancing around Steve’s room for any notable changed but coming up empty handed. 

“You wanna tell me why there’s several charges on my card for tarot websites?” Steve picks up his book again, thumbing through the pages.

“Wasn’t me,” Bucky grunts. 

“Seems a bit suspect after you did an episode on witchcraft,” Steve speaks without lifting an eye from his book. “Could just be me though.”

It catches him by surprise. “You watch our episodes?”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Yes? Every last one.”

“Oh,” Bucky mumbles, finding everything else in the room infinitely more interesting all of a sudden. 

“Looks like it’s doing you some good,” Steve continues, turning back to his novel. “It’s nice to see you out and about.”

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?” Bucky gives him a look that could be seen as peeved if the blond hadn’t known him for as long has he had been alive.

Steve hides a smile. “Nothing. Left some apples on your nightstand. Eat it if you’re hungry.”

It forces Bucky to try to catch onto Steve's train of thought. Sure you hung out occasionally after work, but it wasn’t like you were hanging out on a friends basis. Bucky definitely would know if you were, because it would be a laborious task to even get him to consider leaving his bedroom. A thousand elephants would not be able to make him go do things that friends do. 

So he stares at him for another whole minute waiting for a follow up, a clarification, but Steve makes no other comment, only turning the page of his novel. 

Bucky finally leaves silently, shutting the door behind him.

Sure enough, there are apples and a fork on his nightstand. They were good too, crisp like Steve had gotten them from the market just today.  

By eleven Bucky’s already in bed, eyes straining as he watches this woodworking guy on YouTube teach him how to make a dovetailed box. For no reason. And just because he heard Sam mention offhand that he needed a place for all his keys doesn’t mean Bucky was making it for him.  

From: co-host 

how about we take a road trip down to washington to go meet my dear friend

From: co-host 

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

what friend

mr quatch himself

From: co-host  

first name ‘sas’

From: co-host

i’m talking about bigfoot

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

yeah i got it 

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

when 

From: co-host

well we’d have to start at 4am

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

fuck no

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)how about something within a 5 mile radius 

From: co-host

How about Sunday 

Bucky switches his phone all the way off and tosses it onto the bed beside him, smothering his face into the pillow. 

​​From: co-host

How about your mom

He’d deal with your nonsense tomorrow. 

And probably fill the gas tank for a trip to Washington. 

Bucky’s eyes snap open when the cold air hits his face. He keeps his window shut all the way,every single night. 

He blinks several times before his eyes adjust to the darkness of his surroundings. 

“Bucky?” a disembodied voice comes from beside him.

His head whips to the side, making him realise that one, he was standing, and two, he had no idea how long he’d been standing for. 

Only, he finds you next to him, looking disoriented like you’d just been shaken awake from a nap.

“Where the hell–” your voice trails off as you take note of where you’d landed up. 

In front of him, mechanical gears whine as they scrape against each other in a desperate attempt to move.

He peers down at his clothes; the same black t-shirt, jacket and cargo pants he distinctly remembers changed out of nearly an hour ago. 

“What the fuck,” Bucky snaps. “Did you bring us back here?”

“No,” you say, face rigid, solemn. “I swear I didn’t. I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Bucky’s shoulders loosen. “No, I was asleep.”

The wind rustles by, and everything looks exactly the same as when you left it nearly 3 hours ago. 

“We’re back at Kinley,” he tests it, taking a step forward. “What just happened?”

“This is weird, right?” you put forth, clearing your throat. “I definitely was going to send you a text about the next video idea, and the next thing I know you’re in front of me. I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Bucky pinches the inside of his arm. The skin comes back red and stinging.

“No, it’s real,” he murmurs. “Unless this is a weird fuckin’ dream that I’m having.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you showed up in his dreams either. He just doesn’t remember any of them being so… vivid. 

“I’m in the physical realm, I can feel that,” you talk so quietly it’s like you’re speaking to yourself. “It’s not your dream. I’m here too.”

He checks his phone. 

9:05. 

Bucky opens up his messages, finding none from you tonight. His YouTube history similarly didn’t have the video he was watching earlier today.

Bucky clenches his fists and releases them, before taking a deep inhale. “Okay. We just had a strange fuckin’ flash forward into the future because of… I don’t know what. But we never left, and now we’re going home.”

“Yep.” You nod in confirmation, but the camera levitating behind you wobbles with uncertainty. “So– do we recreate what happened or…?”

“No, let's just leave,” Bucky debates, running a hand through his hair. 

You take a step towards the stairs, holding onto the bannister as you make your way down. 

Bucky holds up the flashlight of his phone as he follows, throwing another look behind him. 

“Having a shared flashforward… could say it’s soulmate shit,” you give him a quick glance, but the grin on your face is unsure, and he knows you’re trying to shake it off. 

“It’s a carbon monoxide shit.” 

“You can be carbon mine-oxide.” 

Bucky wordlessly shoves past you as he walks down the stairs, leaving you to follow with another stupid laugh. 

The car ride back brings with it some air of normalcy, so does the elevator ride. 

Bucky once again gives you a two finger wave as he gets down at his floor. 

“Offer’s still there if you want me to walk you to your room,” you call. “I may be delirious, but I’m still chivalrous.”

“Go to sleep,” Bucky carps, shaking his head, banishing the slight lift in the corner of his mouth. 

The faint light in the hallway makes him falter. 

He sticks his head in anyway. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey,” Steve smiles from his bed, book in hand. “You’re back.”

Bucky glances around the room. “Did we talk earlier today?”

“Only when you texted me for my Netflix password.” 

“Nothing after that?” Bucky hesitates from asking him outright.

“No. You okay?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Just had a weird dream,” Bucky dismisses, forcing his face to relax. “See you around.”

“Left you some apples if you’re hungry,” Steve calls, as Bucky shuts the door.

He crawls back into bed, eyeing the clock suspiciously. 10:30. 

He closes his eyes, wills himself to sleep, knowing that this glitch in the matrix was only temporary and tomorrow, you’d be at his damn door, forcing him to go to Washington with you. 

Bucky’s eyes fly open when a draft of wind blows past his cheek.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” he growls, taking in the stupid tower again. 

“Well, fuck,” you exhale from beside him, in the same clothes from that evening. “I think we’re stuck in a timeloop.”

Of all the things to happen to him. Has he not suffered enough.

“Fine. Alright,” Bucky recalibrates, voice short, running a hand through his hair. “What now? How do we get out?”

“I don’t know, let me just consult with my vast experience in timeloops.”

He throws you a look so dry it would have crops withering. You don’t seem to care at all. 

“If I had to guess from the movies I’ve seen, we either gotta solve a puzzle or one of us has to reach self-actualisation and turn into a good human,” you postulate, arms on your hips as you survey the room. “We both know it’s not me, so is there anything you want to share with the class?”

If your release was contingent on Bucky working through his issues, you’d be here for a century at least.

“We keep coming back here at midnight,” Bucky elects to focus on other things, tilting his head towards the clock. “Is it because we left at 9 instead of 12?”

“Maybe,” you consider it. “We can stick around, I guess.”

It wasn’t a bad place to start. You’d have to trial-and-error your way out of this one. 

“We’ve got…” he pulls his sleeve back to look at his watch “...two hours and fifty five minutes.”

You shrug. “We can check out the rest of the tower to see if we missed anything.”

“Fine,” he relents slowly as if still weighing his options, only to come up with nothing better. 

The next level is at least a few flights of stairs below and if you thought the room with the clock in it was barren, there was nothing here for you except spiders and dust bunnies.   

“Maybe we have to clean it up,” you suggest, nose scrunching. “Maybe the tower’s super mad that everyone’s disrespecting it.”

“That's a stupid reason.”

You spin around, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Take that back. We just said maybe it doesn't like being disrespected.”

Bucky grumbles a few choice words under his breath, none of which reach your ears. 

There's nothing along the walls of the tower, nor on the ceilings. The intermediary floor and the ground floor come up empty as well. 

By the time you've confirmed that you’ve exhausted all possible leads with nothing to show for it, Bucky’s memorised the layout of the place. 

11:58.

“2 more minutes,” he tells you.

“All right,” you say, rubbing your palms together. “Experiment one. Let's go.”

Bucky keeps his eyes peeled.

11:59.

He doesn't even fucking blink, and neither do you as the seconds count down on his phone. 

12:00. 

He exhales, looking up. 

A cold wind blows past his face. 

When he hastily looks back at his phone, it reads 9pm once more. 

“Damn it,” you curse softly. 

Bucky’s growing anger resonates in a rumble in chest. “What kind of twisted shit is this?”

“It's fine,” you hold your hand up, breathing out. “I have a few more ideas.”

Bucky carelessly gestures for you to go on, and you point at the big clock.

“That thing stopped working at 9,” you hint. “We'll have to fix it. Get it working again and then we go back.”

“You know anything about fixing clocks?”

“I worked at a toy shop near a watchmaker once,” you offer. “That's gotta count for something.”

“What the hell, sure,” Bucky gives up, throwing his arms up. 

He only had experience taking apart the old leather strapped wrist watch his parents got him for his 11th birthday, and Steve’s pocket watch that he inherited from his asshole dad. He’d dismantle it carefully, methodically piece by piece, learning the insides and out of each device, so that if and when they stopped running, he'd know exactly what was wrong just by holding it up to his ear.

That didn't necessarily transfer here, but it couldn't be all that different.

Turns out it's very different and you both had to resort to watching several videos before you even began to attempt to fix it. 

He retreats the toolbox from the corner, grateful that at least you didn't have to waste a good half hour going looking for tools to fix a fuckin’ clock.

“There's no signs of life in the mechanism,” you say, reading from the phone. “So I guess we start with the most basic shit.” 

He only lets out a noise in acknowledgement, before you both spend time dusting away at gears and checking for broken parts. When nothing seems bent or misaligned, you move onto the next step. 

And that's when the fun actually starts. 

“That’s not how you oil a gear.”

“Sure it fuckin’ is,” Bucky comments, careful making sure the grease reaches every nook and cranny.

“You’re doing it wrong.” 

Bucky doesn't take his eyes off the machine, and instead raises his left hand up, clenching it into fist and releasing it, leaving the soft shifting of all the plates to prove his point. 

You scoff. “What, just ‘cause you have a metal arm you're the world’s leading expert in oiling mechanics?”

“It means I’ve got some experience in taking care of them.” 

“I’ve seen you put that thing in the dishwasher, don’t even try with me,” you warn. 

Busted. He usually got away with lying flagrantly about his arm, but apparently you pay attention to him and the fact that the Wakandan tech only required a wipedown every once and a while. 

“I do woodwork, I know how to oil things,” he switches seamlessly over to the next lie. 

The tools rarely needed any maintenance and he really didn't have to do much with them yet, considering how high quality they were. But he has an idea of what he could be doing, and that's what counts. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “How come you’ve never made anything for me?”

“I don’t like you.” 

“That’s not what I asked.”

Bucky continues squeezing oil into axles without sparing you a glance. “What do you want?”

“What can you make?”

“Boxes.”

“Make me a box then.”

“No.”

“Bitch.”

Bucky smiles to himself, turning the gears to see them move smoothly.

You dust off cobwebs from the pendulums to get it swinging again, you use your powers to stare at the crank until it rotates on its own to wind up, and to the best of your estimation, make sure the weights are raised to the right heights. 

The whole affair takes nearly 3 hours and towards the end, the both of you are hurriedly rushing through the motions, placing aside the need to argue to just get the damn thing done in time. At some point, telekinesis keeps the pendulum swinging. 

“Did you check everything?”

“Yes.”

“Everything.”

“Yes, Bucky.” you sigh. “All major pieces are working. The clock should move.”

Proof of your word, the clock starts ticking again. It goes from 9:00 to 9:05 without any hitches, and then continues on without interference. 

“Hell yeah,” you cheer and Bucky heaves a sigh of relief.

“Come on,” he urges under his breath, checking his phone again.

2 minutes to go.

“I love the passage of time,” you state unnaturally loudly. “I've never been more grateful for the passage of time.”

“Don't jinx this.”

1 more minute.

“That's not jinxing, it's good lu-”

Bucky feels a cold breeze swipe across his cheek. 

He inhales sharply. 

“Fuck.” Your stomach drops to the ground. 

In the blink of an eye, everything you'd managed to get done in the last 3 hours had gone right back to the way it had been. Dusty, unmoving and dull. 

Bucky robotically checks the time on his phone. 

9pm.

His fingers rub his temples. “What's the next plan?”

“We must have not done it right,” you reason quietly, taking a step towards it. “Something's wrong.”

“The thing was moving, I think we got it,” Bucky sighs irritatedly. 

“Well, we gotta try again,” you turn to him sharply. “You don't have to be here but I'm gonna do it.”

Bucky raises both his eyebrows at you, and you stare back with equal determination. 

“Fine,” he forgoes. “I'll look downstairs.”

It takes less time this time around. It gives you half an hour to check if it is moving again, and you watch the hands move from 9 to 9:05 to 9:20 with no problem.

Meanwhile, Bucky spends his time turning the intermediate room inside out in search for other clues. 

When he finds nothing there, he trudges back to the clock, finding you fingers crossed but confident that you'd done it.

“This is it, baby,” you say, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We're getting out of this.”

“Here's to hoping,” he says in a tone that lets you know he isn’t convinced, watching his timer countdown from 30 seconds.

“No hoping. There's nothing to do. We're leaving,” you declare. “I've never seen a clock work more beautifully in my life.” 

Three.

Two.

One.

Bucky holds his breath. 

And a wind blows past his face.

The machine resets to the way it was. 

“All fuckin’ right,” Bucky mumbles, expiring a breath deeply. 

“It's fine,” you say, forcing a smile. “I've got a few more ideas.”

Cleaning the floors doesn't work. 

Reading up about the clock tower in  detail and honouring its legacy in an earnest ceremony doesn't work. 

Fixing it for a third time doesn't work either.

“I'm takin’ a nap,” he informs, back against the wall. “I'll deal with this shit again when I wake up.”

“How can you even think about sleeping right now?” you ask, using your powers to pull the damn clock out of the wall. It changes nothing.

“I've thought about sleeping through much worse,” he grumbles, eyes closed. 

“I'm beginning to think you have an iron deficiency.”

“Literally a supersoldier.”

“Vitamin D deficiency,” you revise. “Can you step into the sun or do you just like, start hissing and burning?”

“We’ve never gonna find out, ‘cause we’re never making it out of tonight,” he hums, eyes closed. 

You go still, clock hovering mid air. 

“You don't think we're getting out?”

“I think we're fucked,” Bucky mumbles, yawning as he makes himself as comfortable as old wooden floors would allow him to be. “Y’told me yourself, we tried all the big plans. There's no puzzle. We're trapped.”

The clock lands on the ground with a heavy thud. 

“Careful,” he warns, wondering how cozy the floor would be if he just slid down and laid there. “Wouldn't wanna break the fuckin’ thing that put us in this mess to begin with.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Bucky opens one eye to peer at you. “What?”

“What do you think, Bucky?” you fire back. “We’re stuck in a timeloop for eternity because we’ve tried the most obvious options and we’re still here.”

“Could be a lot cleaner, but this ain’t the worst place to get stuck for the rest of your life,” he tempts, arms crossed behind his head, feeling a dull strain in his neck. 

“We’re gonna be stuck here forever,” you say, dawning horror in your inflection. “I’m gonna be stuck with you for the rest of eternity.”

“So much for chivalry,” he says wryly.

“We need a new plan,” you digress hectically from the other side of the room. 

“Here's one. I get some sleep, order some pizza in the next loop or two and–”

“No.”

“Fine, Thai works too. Whatever. Then we-”

“You don’t get it,” you snap abruptly. “Jesus Christ, this is literally my worst fucking nightmare. Either help or leave.”

He pries both eyes open at the sudden shift in your tone. He’s used to you snapping at him for his bullshit, and the favour was usually reciprocated, but not like this.  

Your back is turned to him, but he can tell you’re breathing heavily as you check out the new gap you've created in the wall where the clock was, before turning around and lifting the entire machine in the center of the room. 

“Hey,” he calls, voice gruff, slowly pushing himself off the floor. 

You throw him a look, continuing to move pieces of newspaper and tools and check under it. 

He watches you curse under your breath, lifting things too high and dropping them down a little too hard without flinching even once. 

“Look,” he tries again, a little louder. 

You flip the machine upside down, fully intending on taking it apart and putting it back together as if it was going to make a big difference.

“Grab the wrench. Or don't, I don't give a–”

Bucky grips your shoulder with a call of your name. It’s enough to get you to pause from sheer surprise at how close he suddenly positioned himself, considering it was a well known fact that Bucky hated people in his space. 

“Listen to me. We’re going to get out of here,” he instructs, voice much more muted than you were used to. “But you have to calm down.”

You take in a deep breath, before it leaves in a shaky exhale. Whatever you’ve got levitating gently drops onto the ground.

“You’re panicking. I would be too if I wasn’t dead inside,” he notes, hands still on your shoulder firmly. “Do whatever you need to to get it out of your system. It’ll be easier to focus after that. We'll be out of here soon enough.”

“You seem awfully sure.” Your mouth curls into a half smile, but it drops as quickly as it came up. 

“We’ll figure something out.” His shoulders rise and fall. “Got all the time in the world.”

You swallow the thickness in your throat, giving him a small nod.

“‘M sorry,” he says, eyes intense, and you know he’s talking about the nonchalance he showed earlier. “I was bein’ a prick.” 

“Honestly, you being a prick is, like, the most normal part about this.”

“...thanks.” 

“It’s fine, I could use some normal.” You brush it off with a slight smile. “You’re right. We should get some food. I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” he says, eyeing your features for a second more. “But you’re buying. Payback for making me clean up every floor twice.”

“Prick.”

His conversation with Steve from earlier that night comes back to him, the same time you take another breath to shake off the antsiness. 

Bucky lifts a eyebrow to look more natural. “You still sure it’s me who needs self-actualisation? ‘Cause it sure seems that you’ve got a whole lot to talk about.”

You half-scoff, half-laugh. “Is that your way of saying I’ve got issues?”

“Just using your words.”

You watch him for a second, like you’re thinking about saying something. He tilts his head at how contemplative you look, only for you to open your mouth and ask,

“Say, do you think emotional baggage is hot?” you wiggle your brows. “‘Cause if you do, I’ve got a whole lot of it.”

He groans out loud, neck craning as his head drops back. 

“Also,” you pose a bit more curiously, “you gonna let go of me any time soon or are we about to slow dance?”

Bucky’s hands immediately drop from your shoulder, taking a step back. “Fuck off.”

“I could, but I’d just respawn here in three hours.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but feel a bit relieved that you looked a lot less in distress. 

You'd spent two loops doing a deep dive into timeloops, coming up with more possibilities to try out.

Leaving the building at each hour did nothing. 

You spent 1 loop eating dinner and reaching out to scientists you knew on how to break out. Those who replied either said they weren't real, told you stuff you'd already figured out, or blocked you.

You even spent half a loop painstakingly combing through footage from earlier in the night to figure out if you'd fucked with anything by mistake that you were yet to correct, not noticing it so far because it had been so minor or mundane. 

“Oh shit, I just noticed something,” you gape, pointing at the screen

Bucky pulls the little monitor closer to his face. “What?”

“You’re looking at me so much in these,” you remark, voice relaxing immediately. “What's up with that?” 

“Maybe because you’re the only one talking,” Bucky fires back, irritatedly putting the camera back down, “and it’s not like there’s anything else to look at here.”

“So defensive,” you comment. “Just say you think I’m cute and move on.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut me up yourself, coward.”

To be clear, Bucky didn't realise he was looking at you that much. And now that you’ve pointed it out, he can’t really argue because he is doing it a lot more than he realised he was, even unconsciously sometimes. 

“How many more timeloops till you run out of these lines?” he questions instead.

“How many more timeloops till you stop being a handsome son of a bitch?”

The clock tower may be cold, but he feels too warm all of a sudden. 

“I swear, if this doesn’t work, I’m throwing the clock out the window,” you say, powers forcing the hands to speed through every hour and second at 2x speed. 

Bucky doesn’t even look up at you from over his phone. “You throw it, you’re fixing it again.”

You stop trying to spin the hands when one of them creaks. 

A few loops in and the growing frustration from the both of you manifests into tension that is palpable. 

You'd spent a loop or two outside the tower so you didn't drive yourself insane. Without fail, you'd end up right back up watching the clock every single time the world outside struck 12.

Bucky’s done his fair share of attempts. Jacket on, jacket off. Holding the camera, being the one who led into the room, the one who led out. 

Mainstream movies, obscure movies, video essays, podcasts. 

“I don’t fuckin’ get it. What are we missing?” you pour over the options again, frustrated. “We’ve done everything. We’ve done combinations of things.”

“There’s something we’re missing,” he says, staring at the moon through the face. “Some detail.” 

It's not like you can physically keep track of every variable. Everything resets the second it strikes 12, no matter what you changed. 

“I think–” 

He sends you a glance.

“Maybe if we–” you try before you stop altogether.  

Bucky just stays quiet because at this point you've exhausted every option you can think of, to no avail. 

He knows you don't want to say it. 

But it's time you start accepting that you're well and truly stuck. 

“Should write Maya an email,” he tells you. “Tell her we quit.”

You give him a smile, knowing it would never even make its way to her.

Still, you pull out your phone and let Bucky peek over your shoulder as you start typing, helpfully suggesting curses as you went. 

____

You absentmindedly tinker with the machine, able to take it apart, fix it and put it back together by heart and in no time now.

“What was the last mission you guys did?” you inquire, rotating a gear between your fingers. 

“Something small,” Bucky replies, voice steady. “Think it was just a recon in Detroit.”

“Do you miss it?” 

“No,” he says resolutely. “Everyone got tired of them a long time ago, but we stick around, just in case.”

You spare him a glance. “When was the last time you actually relaxed?”

Bucky considers it for a second. “Wakanda. Wasn't exactly a vacation though.” 

“New question. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

He raises an eyebrow, head twisting to look at you. 

You place the gear in its place before picking up the oil dropper. “Don’t answer if you don’t wanna.”

He turns his head back to the ceiling, and all the spider webs lining it. 

“Couple of years before I got drafted, my family took a day trip to Convey Island.” he reveals, voice low. “We were supposed to hit as many rides as we could but my sister was aboslutely fuckin’ taken by this damn steam engine they had running. Everyoe got sick of it after the second time so I stuck around with her. Must’a ridden that thing 5 times before she finally let up.” 

You have half a smile on your face. “Did you like it?”

He can't really remember. He can't even remember if the rest of his family was actually there, or whether it was just him and Steve and Becca, or it was just him and Becca.

“I liked that she liked it,” he decides.

You nod, wiping a gear before putting it back, snickering lightly.  “Was the last vacation you took really in the 1930s?” 

He exhales a laugh. “Steve and I went to the Canyon once. It was near a mission location. He told me I'd been dyin’ to go there as a kid. I don't remember that, but he fuckin’ dragged me there by the collar. Not sure if that really counts– we were both bleeding pretty heavy for it to be a real holiday.”

“Steve would say it counts.”

“Steven’s never taken a vacation in his life.” Bucky snorts. “I don't think he physically knows how to relax.”

“I don't think I've ever seen that man sit still for more than a few minutes.”

“Fuckin' rich coming from you. How many jobs have you had? A million?”

You exhale a laugh. “Something like that.”

You push the pendulum with your finger, watching it swing back and forth. 

“Where’d you stick the longest?” Bucky asks, hands supporting his head as he lies on the ground. 

You take a second to think, picking up a gear you’d already cleaned, wiping it down again.

“When I just got out of Leviathan, I used to wait tables for this elderly lady who ran a bakery. Mrs. Mullens,” you say finally. “She was kinder than anyone else I'd met till then; gave me leftovers that didn’t get sold that day, and enough money to get on my feet. I must've been there, what, a year? Year and a half? I think that’s the longest I’ve stayed.” 

“Why’d you quit?” He does his best to not sound too intrusive. 

“One evening she slipped keys into my pocket and told me I could stay in the room above the cafe if I wanted. Realised I’d been there too long, so I left the state the next morning.”

Bucky’s eye twitches as he turns to look at you. “She gave you a place to stay and you skipped town?”

“Yeah.” You half-shrug. “Staying in a place too long feels– suffocating. I don’t know. Just knew it was time to leave.”

Bucky looks at you strangely, mind inadvertently trying to piece together a bunch of information. 

Working on a hunch, he tests, “You got family out there somewhere?”

“I was literally created in a lab,” you deadpan. “I don’t have a family. Unless you count test tubes.”

“It doesn't have to be mean literally.” He arches an eyebrow. “What about Nat?”

“Nat’s a friend.” you disclose, holding a cog up to check for any stains, “The Avengers aren’t my family the same way they are for you. They’re great, but it’s just another job.”

Oh. 

“Right,” he says, settling back into his position, feeling a frown on his face.

“I haven’t really found what you’re asking me about,” you add, and he knows you're trying to be kind.

He isn't sure what he thought the team was to you. He isn't sure what he feels about the new information either.

“What’s it feel like?”

“What?” he asks distractedly. 

“Having people like that,” you clarify. “Maybe if I know what it feels like I’ll know when it happens.”

You’ve all but asked the most emotionally constipated man on earth what family feels like to him.

So reasonaly, Bucky blanks. 

Literally every single interaction with the dead and the living exits his mind. 

And so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, 

“Silent blenders.” 

And then he cringes. 

“Is that the name of a movie or…” you trail off.

“No. They got me blenders that don’t make a sound. It was a nice gift,” he mumbles. 

You wait for him to provide even a little more context. He instead shifts uncomfortably. 

“Okay,” you allow, looking back down. “Silent blenders. Got it.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second more, and his head starts throbbing.

Instead, he dodges. “Guess you’re not gonna stick around for too long then, huh?”   

“Well, yeah,” you answer, like it was the easiest thing in the world.  “I was always going to just bounce after this was done. I thought you knew that.”

“Right,” he repeats. “Where you headed next?”

“Who knows?” you mull over. “I could go anywhere. You got any reccs?”

He doesn’t really have an answer for you. Bucky can’t imagine packing up and leaving again. Living life never knowing when he can finally take a seat. He’s spent so long wrestling with the turbulence of having multiple identities that he clings to what little semblance of stability he can find.

But a tiny voice in the recess of his mind whispers to him that maybe the reason he's stayed at the same place for so long is the same reason you can’t. 

He has a half formed hypothesis. And then soon comes to the conclusion that he really has no business deriving theories about you like that… but he’d be lying if he said he didnt store it in his head for later. 

He also doesn't know why there's a strange churning in his stomach, a deeply uncomfortable feeling that he hasn't really felt in years. It makes him want to get up and leave. 

“Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gonna leave eventually doesn’t mean we’re not friends.” You snap him out of his first great attempt to understand human emotions other than annoyance. 

He hums. “I wouldn't call us that.” 

“You’re right, we’re star crossed lovers.”

“I feel bad for the next person who has to deal with you.”

You laugh, swinging the pendulum into motion and wiping your hands down. 

You’d taken turns sleeping in two of the time loops, keeping watch while the other rested for a while.

Only when you're asleep does Bucky fully comprehend how quiet it is in there. 

The clouds cover the moon. The floorboards don't make much noise even as he walks around.

He's lost track of how many 9pms it's been. 

He doesn't know why it’s lingering in his mind like this. Probably because he had only thought of her a couple of hours ago. 

He knows you suggested it as a joke but he can't help but wonder.

What if it was actually him keeping the both of you here?  

He really thought he'd made amends. He'd been living as peacefully as he was able to. And yeah, he's a dick, but he wasn't outright evil.

Or so he thought.

Maybe he hadn’t repented as hard as he’d needed to. 

“Becks,” he calls quietly. “If you can hear me– I'm sorry.”

No one responds. You don't stir. 

He forces himself to exhale and continue, “I know you'd hate what I turned into, but I'm tryin’ here. I promise.”

He wishes a damn piece of paper would give him a sign on what to do, or at least tell him there was no coming back. That he should probably resign himself to his fate. 

“You should've had someone who coulda shielded you. Given you a chance to be a kid.” He swallows down the stone in his throat. “I know you're mad, Peanut. I'm really fuckin’ sorry. You deserved a whole lot better.” 

And then he waits, and waits some more, ears straining for anything– a giggle, a scrape. He doesn't know what he expected, but he gets nothing. 

Only a draft blows through the window. 

A shiver runs through you, and you curl into yourself, but thankfully you still don't wake. Bucky has no idea how he’d explain this to you anyway. 

Still, he quietly makes his way towards you, shrugging off his jacket and draping it across you carefully, watching as you relax again.

He blows out an exhale, watching the minutes tick by. 

“Do you think we’re gonna get old here or do we reset every time the loop resets?” you ask aloud.

“Our clothes kept regenerating with us, so I guess we keep resetting too.”

You hum. “Damn, we can’t even grow old together.”

Bucky adds nothing, only turning to you with a deadpan expression.

“What?” you ask.

“What?” he counters. “No old person jokes this time?”

“There’s no fun if you're expecting it,” you sigh.

“Incredible,” he replies, monotonous. 

There’s silence. He hears wind rustle through the room. 

You sit up, and he can feel your eyes boring into him. 

“What?” he asks again.

“Does it upset you?” you ask somberly. “When I make those jokes?”

“No,” he replies. “They’re fine.”

“And when I keep using pickup lines on you– does that make you uncomfortable?” you continue, however, much to his surprise. 

He turns to you with his eyebrows lowered. “Since when does that matter?”

“It matters,” you say quietly. “I knew it annoyed you, I didn’t know they made you uncomfortable.” 

He stares at you for a long while, before settling on, “They don’t.”

“Sure?”

“I don’t care.” He looks ahead. “I’ll tell you if they do.” 

“Okay,” you relent. “If you say so.”

He shakes his head, feeling a strange sort of feeling settle in his chest. He can’t say he hates it, but he would rather not deal with it.

“Bein’ in here’s making you weird.”

You narrow your eyes. “The fuck does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” he asserts. 

“I’m being totally normal, you’ve just refused to hang out with me so you wouldn’t know what that is.”

“I see you every week.” 

“For video shoots.”

“We hang out otherwise,” he scoffs, suddenly feeling very offended. “We literally went to the store the other day.”

“To buy batteries,” you emphasize. “For the video shoots.”

“We’ve gone to the park,” he exclaims, sitting up. “And we eat lunch together sometimes. And we watched that stupid fuckin’ movie in theatres at midnight twice because you lied the second time and told me it was another one – what was it called? Metropolis?”

“Megalopolis,” you say, amused at his outburst. 

“That. Garbage fuckshit. And we’ve taken the cat–”

“Alpine.”

“I know her name,” he hisses. “To the vet. And that’s all in the last month.”

“Jeez, you keep a journal every time we hang out? What are you, obsessed with me?” you ask, trying to bite back a shit-eating grin. 

“Point is,” he grits. “We hang out.”

Fuck. Turns out, maybe Steve was right.

“Tomato, tomahto,” you dismiss. “You’re so obsessed with details. You could’ve just said you’re in love with me and moved on instead of bringing out the whole Excel sheet of every minute we spent together.”

“I hate you,” he groans, dropping back down.

You laugh. It makes the corner of his mouth curl up, just a little.  

“What’s the time?” he asks, blowing out an exhale from his nose.

“Like 11:30?,” you sigh.

“That’s all?” He wants to groan again. 

“Does it matter? We’re stuck here forever. We can get more takeout in the next loop.”

“You’re paying.”

“I paid last time, asshole.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Tomato, tomahto.” 

“Touché.” 

You spin a gear in the air, waiting for the hour to pass.

It suddenly hits him. Something that you'd shown across episodes of witchcraft and haunted hospitals. 

Something you showed literally three minutes ago. 

If this worked, he’d probably hug you and your stupid, chaos incarnate self.  

“Come on, let’s get this clock fixed,” he grumbles, getting back up on his feet. 

“What?” 

“I think you’re right,” he says, sticking his arm out to help you up. 

“Huh?” you blink at him. “I know the footage is gonna get erased again, but I need you to say that into the camera once for me. And state that you’re of sound mind and body while you’re at it.”

He sends you a look. “Come on.”

“I fixed it already, Bucky.”

“What’s the time?” He ignores you.

“Nearly 12,” you tell him, checking your phone. 

“Need you to be precise.”

“Why?”

“Humour me,” he says calmly. “Details are for losers, remember?”

“11:57 and 32 seconds.”

He manually winds the big arm up, the short hand still following. Until the seconds ticker matches the time you were calling out, down to the last second.

“What are you doing?” you enquire curiously, peeking over his shoulder.

“Making it match real time,” he tells you. “Properly.”

He checkes gears and pushes pendulums and everything works like it’s brand new. You’d gotten real good at this. 

“11:59 and 43 seconds,” you call.  

Bucky closes his eyes, forcing his breath to remain steady. It’s the first time that evening he’s had more than a sliver of hope. 

“57 seconds,” you say quietly, voice tired. 

And then there's silence. 

He doesn't have the energy to open his eyes and find the machinery back to scraps. 

But eventually he does. And when he opens it again, you’re still standing there, near the machine. Not the entrance of the room. 

The clock reads 12:02.

He turns to you, calmly saying, “Let’s get out of here.”

The drive back home is silent, apprehensive with tension tight as a stretched rubber band. Like if you breathed too hard, you'd find yourself back in the dark room. 

You step in the elevator together, pressing the buttons for your floor and his. 

He doesn’t know whether it’s the fear or the fact that you've now spent several hours together when time didn’t make sense, but the ride up is slower than usual. 

Bucky stands with his back pressed to the wall of the elevator, eyes closed, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“It never occured to me,” your voice is quiet. “It’s the one thing I didn’t think of because I was so focused on getting out.”

“Didn't think of it either.” Bucky’s shoulders shrug, eyes closed. “Not your fault.” 

“Kinda is.”

“I would've realised earlier if I paid attention,” he counters. 

You stare at him. 

“Are you done or should I keep going?”

You blow out an exhale. “This game sucks.”

“Don't play this shit with me. It's the one thing I'm good at.”

The elevator dings, creeping open on his floor.

He stays right where, back pressed against the wall, unmoving. 

“It's your floor,” you inform.

“I know.”

The door waits a few seconds before it closes.

It finally reaches your floor, opening with a bright ding. 

He watches you step out, casting an unsure look towards him.

You gesture awkwardly, “Do you need anything?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes still closed. 

“What are– oh,” you stop all of a sudden. “Is this your way of walking me to my door?”

Bucky’s face doesn’t betray any expression. “See you later.”

You fight a smile, raising two fingers to give him a wave. 

He gives you a small nod as the door closes on him, reaching forward to press the button to his floor again.

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[pellucid-constellations]

Fable - Before

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Being in love with Azriel wasn’t hard; you’d been doing it for over 400 years. But things were changing, and soon, you would be changed. 

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: This is part of a mini-series but each part can be read on its own/out of order. I know I'm like attacking everyone with this random fic I just started but it's getting my writing muse going and it's exciting!! Enjoy :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

“Do you think that’s the best idea, Az?” you promoted, cringing a bit as you hid your face in the racks of clothing along the store’s edge. “I mean, Rhys seemed pretty adamant that you… I don’t know—not pursue her?”

Azriel tsked, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he passed behind you. You turned your wings in. “Rhys doesn’t understand. He only understands the pull of the mating bond and nothing else. But Elain doesn’t want Lucien, I’m sure of it.” 

Something twisted in your gut. “Okay, I believe you. But what if—” 

“Please, y/n, something else now. My failure of a love life must bore you.” 

You bit into your lip as you contemplated ignoring his request. He had done nothing but speak of Elain since you started your outing this evening, but the moment you questioned the feasibility of his plans, the topic was suddenly moot. 

“I was just going to ask,” you broached, turning from the clothes to face the shadowsinger. A necklace display enthralled him. “What if you found your mate? What then?” 

Azriel broke his gaze with the jewels. “That wouldn’t matter. This is different, y/n. You must see that. Three sisters for three brothers. It’s as if it’s a test of fate.” 

“Right,” you nodded, fighting off the urge to throw up or scream. “Destiny, maybe.” 

Azriel’s responding grin did little to soothe you. “Exactly. I knew you would understand. You’ve always understood me.” 

You offered a weak smile, biting the inside of your cheek as he ushered you out of the store with a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

This was getting more and more difficult to tamp down. 

When Azriel first became enamored by Elain, you thought it temporary. He had been chasing after Mor for so long; that wouldn’t be trumped by a woman he just met. And you were used to the way he pined for Mor. It hurt, but it was familiar. 

Azriel never seemed to think he had a real chance with her. 

But with Elain—with Elain, he figured he had a fighting chance. He saw the success of his brothers and felt that this was his chance at happiness. He never looked at you the way he looked at her, and he had had so many opportunities to do so. 

He never spoke of you the way he spoke of her. 

This hurt more than it did with Mor.

But still, Azriel was your family, so you pretended that it didn’t. You sat back and listened as he spoke of his grand plans to court her and sneak past Rhysand. You tried your best to provide good input and smiled when you were supposed to. 

You loved him from afar. 

He loved you differently. 

It wasn’t his fault.

“Did Rhys ever say what he wanted to talk to you about?” Azriel asked after a short stint of silence, the sounds of your steps along the streets of Velaris rhythmic and soothing. 

You blinked and focused your attention back on Azriel. “Oh, um, some mission at the camps I think.” 

“Anything big?” 

“I don’t think so. A little unrest but I think he just wants me to make sure the women are training.” 

“Need me to come?” 

“I would, but I leave tomorrow night. Isn’t that when you—you know…” 

Azriel sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Oh, that’s right.” He tilted his head to the side, weighing his internal conflict. “I could try to move some things around. Elain could—” 

“No, Az, it’s fine,” you interrupted, trying to forget about the times he would restructure his entire schedule to accommodate you. “You have to be diligent with the times you see her. I can see if Cass can come with me.” 

“Are you sure?” he posed, the question twisting his brow. 

You looked up at him, examining each tell on his face. You’d known him so long you were sure you would never forget his face—never scrub your mind of the intricacies that told you of each emotion he felt. 

Many claimed that Azriel was hard to read. As a Spymaster, that was the goal. But you saw through it all. You’d seen him as a boy and you saw him now. 

There was something unfamiliar on his face as you looked at him now. 

“You really like her, don’t you?” The words hurt as they came out. 

Azriel breathed through a smile. 

“I like my chances this time.” He curled his finger beneath your chin in a playful tap. 

That sounded the same. 

~~

“You sure you don’t want me to come, sweetheart?” Cassian asked for the fourth time, the table between you filled with a plethora of distractions that you were all too grateful for. 

You darted your gaze to the side, eager to ensure that Azriel hadn’t heard the loudmouth in front of you. “Yes, Cass. Now quit it. I got it, okay?” 

Cassian sent the pair at the end of the table a perfunctory, almost irritated glance. “It’s a pretty hostile camp you’re headed into. I feel like you should bring backup.” 

“And I feel like you have four other camps to go to today. And a pregnant mate to tend to, no?” 

“Nesta would sooner bash me over the head with her books than let me coddle her. I’ve tried.”

“Well, just… linger around her, I don’t know. Just know that I’m fine and don’t need a babysitter.” 

From the other end of the table, Elain giggled, the sound light and airy. You snuck a glance out of the corner of your eye to find the shadows along the table retreating to the floor. A few had begun to creep towards you, but you shooed them away with a flick of your foot, wanting to keep the conversation away from Azriel’s ears. 

They listened to you—for the most part. 500 years of pestering them made them give a little. 

“Az can’t come?” Cassian asked, his mouth half filled with roasted potato. “He’s not on anything this week.” 

You raised your brow and stared back at the sheepish look the general offered, waiting for him to chew his breakfast before you replied. “He can’t. Spy business.” 

“Spy business.” Cassian deadpanned.

“Uh-huh.” 

Cassian’s skeptical look rivaled your chastising one. “This doesn’t need to go like this and you know that.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Right. I’ve only known you since we were twelve but I’m going to pretend that you aren’t covering for the one person you—” 

“Cassian.” 

“I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

“Why would she be getting hurt?” Azriel spoke up, his head finally turned from his near-permanent gaze on Elain. 

“I wouldn’t,” you cut in, speaking over the beginning of Cassian’s sentence. “You know how Cassian is, always worrying too much.”

“Is there something to worry about?” Elain asked, looking between the members of the table, her question sweet and ironic coming from her mouth. 

“No—” 

“Yes.” 

“No, there isn’t” you gritted out, throwing Cassian a look. The smile you sent to Elain took effort. “I’m just going on a routine mission, but you know how Illyrians are—overprotective to a fault.” 

Elain nodded and blushed with a soft gleam in her eye, and, Gods, you were reminded why you’d stopped eating breakfast at the House. You bit the inside of your cheek to fight the swell in your throat. 

“I thought Cassian was going to go with you,” Azriel questioned. “You said he could.” 

Cauldron, you really should have taken breakfast in your room. 

You tore your gaze from Elain’s shy expression and blinked at Azriel. He was sat up straighter, brows shot upwards in an accusatory fashion that made you feel that you were in trouble. When you took a moment to respond, he tilted his chin forward, ready to catch you in a lie. 

And you were an awful liar. 

When you were thirty, Azriel had to teach you how to lie to help stave away the men that came with emerging adulthood. That had been mortifying for many reasons, but mainly because he was having you lie about being his mate. Your feelings had become complicated around that time and Azriel did not seem to share the sentiment. 

But you could lie about this with ease. You had become a practiced liar over the years—when it came to hiding your feelings. 

“I-I got an update from Rhys. He said the camp is more settled. I’m only going to watch from afar. They won’t even know I’m there.” 

A lie—a fat lie. But Azriel should be happy. He should pursue Elain as he wanted. You shouldn't get in the way. You needed to get away from them, actually. 

You needed the space. 

You felt Cassian’s disappointed stare on the side of your face but ignored the hole it was burning into your skin. 

“He didn’t inform me of that,” Azriel muttered. He looked to Elain—sweet Elain with her soft eyes and gentle features—and contemplated his night once again. “I think I should come with you. Reports could be conflicting or fabricated.” 

And the way Elain deflated made you press your lips together in a line. Azriel sent her an apologetic, downturned smile and you gathered that he was apologizing for you. You would always be an apology for him, a responsibility. 

Your foot had been shaking under the table without you noticing it, but the moment Azriel’s eyes wandered to Elain, the motion abruptly stopped. You gathered your resolve, sent Cassian another warning glance, and looked back to the man who never saw you. 

“I don’t want you to come, Azriel. I’m bringing Lucien.” 

A low blow, but not one that was uncalled for. 

It had the effect you were hoping for, with both Azriel and Elain sending shocked expressions your way, the former affronted and the latter looking lost. 

“Lucien?” Azriel parroted. 

“Yes,”  you confirmed, taking a causal sip from the cup before you. “Rhys thought it would be good for him to see more than just Velaris and the mortal lands. I’m picking him up before I leave.” 

“And you think he would protect you if the Illyrians went rouge?” Azriel’s tone was bordering on aggressive, his question pointed towards Cassian. 

“The Illyrians are always rouge, Az. That’s kind of the point of all this,” you joked, but the joke didn’t land.

Tension at the table remained. Cassian wasn’t saying anything, his arms crossed and his eyes locked on yours. Your foot started shaking again. Elain, of all people, was the first one to speak. 

“Lucien would protect her,” she nodded, pushing her food around her plate. “He would. He’s… a good male.” 

That altered Azriel’s train of thought very evidently if one were able to pick apart the soft widening of his eyes and the slight twitch of his mouth. All things you caught so easily. 

All things that led him to agree that you should go with Lucien. All tells that made him refocus his attention on Elain and ignore the shallow breaths you let out when you lied.

Because you would be fine with Lucien. Maybe if you went with Lucien, one of Azriel’s suspected obstacles would be removed. Maybe Lucien would start to want you the same way he wanted Elain. 

Only, Lucien wasn’t going with you, and there would never be a time that a conversation like this would happen again. 

A different obstacle, for a different time. 

[syddsatyrn]

⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧ Chapter One: A Sleepless Sovereign

Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak, happy ending.

⛧Words: 3.3k

⛧Summary: As Lucifer's advisor you are required to assist him with a number of things. That includes his schedule, many chores, and the occasional middle of the night panic attack.

⛧Notes: This is my first Hazbin Hotel fic! I hope you all like it because Alastor is my next victim. I just want to give poor Luci some love, he is such a cutie and he's been through enough! My beta reader is @hellfiremunsonn and we love her for that.

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The sun rises and a soft glow illuminates the kitchen. Faint streaks of dawn get brighter as time goes by, the sky is painted with hues of pink and gold. Every day you wake before him and make his coffee. It was a morning ritual you’ve come to enjoy. The silence allowed you time to think and plan your day. As you fill a cup full of coffee, the smell permeates the air.

You carefully take the cup upstairs on a tray and down a long hallway. The air hummed with a faint scent of luxury. It's grandiose and extravagant manor, with gold trim in the hallway. Apples and angelic wings decorate the molding. Your footsteps echo against the marble floors until you stop at the large double doors. You open the right side of the door quietly. The room is dark, some light peeked through the window, but the long velvet curtains block out most of it.

He's so peaceful, lying there, the silk sheets covering his midsection leave little to the imagination. His messy blonde hair and soft face has always made your heart skip a beat. Soft snores escape his lips, you almost feel bad for waking him up while he’s in such a state.  

“Your majesty?” You finally speak. The King stirs and covers his face with his hands. He lets out a small groan in response.

*It's time to get up, sir.” You say as Lucifer slowly and reluctantly sits up. You hand him his coffee with a smile, he looks up at you with drowsy eyes. 

“Thank you, y/n.” He replied, taking a sip of the warm and bitter drink.  

You start to stroll around his room, picking up clothes that have been tossed and putting them in the laundry basket. Lucifer watches as you pick up his messy room, sipping his coffee occasionally. 

“You don't have to do all that y’know.” Lucifer says, feeling a little guilty about his disorganization. 

“Oh but I do, sir.” You said with a straight face. 

“Y/N, I don't know what I would do without you.” He admits with a soft chuckle. 

You smile, your face turns a little pink but it's hard to tell with the lights off. You walk over to the curtains and draw them open. Lucifer doesn't look too pleased with how bright it is. You walk over to his wardrobe and shuffle through the many different articles of clothing until you find his white suit with red accents. 

“Your daughter called, there are documents you need to look over and you have a meeting this afternoon.” You remind him as you place his clothes on the corner of his large bed.

“Can I just go back to sleep?” Lucifer pleads with you and you let out a small sigh.

“Every day you ask me the same question and every day I tell you the same answer…”

“So that's a no…?” He chuckles softly.

That is correct, your majesty.” You roll your eyes as you leave him to get dressed for the day. 

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The relationship between you two has always been a little strange. You were hired many years ago as a maid for his estate. But after a small while grew to be his right hand, now you’re titled as his “advisor”. You take your job very seriously, everyday you make his coffee, bring him his meals, complete household chores, chauffeur him around, you even attend his meetings for him occasionally. Your entire life is devoted to your King, you felt it was a respectable title. You've worked hard to get to this point, and recognize the power that comes with that. After many years of proving yourself, Hell sees you as an extension of the royal family.

Lucifer had quite a soft spot for you, he offered you a room in his home so you can do your job without the bothersome commute. He pays you well and allows you access to many of his personal assets. The free room and board, along with never having to cook for yourself made it all worth it.

After some time you developed some feelings for him, but you would never admit that. You’re not up to that societal standard. You’ve always told yourself he could have anyone he wanted, which is true. The King of Hell was dashing and charming, but also extremely powerful. Despite all that he doesn't seem to fraternize with anyone, ever since Lilith left, it’s like he's lost that part of himself.

It was time for you to get yourself a cup of coffee and bring his breakfast to the dining hall. After finishing your task you sit down at the dining table and enjoy your coffee. Not long after, Lucifer emerges, dressed, but still looking rather fatigued.

“Did you not sleep well, sir?” You ask and bring your cup to your lips.

“No, I was tossing and turning all night.” He grumbles, the dark bags under his eyes are a dead giveaway.

“Hmm…you’ve been doing that quite a bit more often than usual.” You remark.

“I know! What is up with that? It's ridiculous.” The king says with a huff.

“Ridiculous indeed, sir.”

Lucifer called Charlie on his cellphone, and talked about the Hotel she was running. Charlie says he is due for a visit so you make a mental note to schedule that later. Your mind wanders as he talks on the phone while eating various fruits. The last time Lucifer wasn’t sleeping well he was having nightmares. You remember one awful night in particular, you were up late finishing some paperwork for him when suddenly you hear a scream coming from his room. You rush in and he's curled up in a ball, sobbing. You immediately crawl into his bed to comfort him, he laid his head in your lap and you played with his blonde hair until he fell back to sleep.  

“Y/N…?” Lucifer says and tilts his head slightly. Looks like he finished his phone call while you were lost in thought. You shake yourself from your memories, a pink tint spreads across your face.

“Yes?”

“Something on your mind, my dear?” He asks with a look of concern on his face. 

“No sir, it's nothing.” You assure him. Neither of you have spoken of that night since.

You continue to drink your coffee, Lucifer gives you a skeptical look and continues his breakfast. The day was a very average day. After breakfast Lucifer went to his study to read over some documents and sign a few things. You took his almost empty plate and cup to the kitchen and placed it in the sink for the staff to deal with. You text Charlie with a list of dates to choose from to schedule a visit, reassuring her that you’ll make it happen.

Next is time to clean Lucifer’s room. It's not disgusting by any means, more like cluttered. He tosses stuff on the floor absentmindedly and you always end up tidying the place at some point. Besides, you are the only one allowed in his room, who else is going to do it?

You collect all the empty liquor glasses and place them on a silver tray along with the empty decanter. Making his bed was rather difficult due to it being so large, but you manage like you always do. You tidy up his bathroom, finding more clothes tossed on the floor, you put them in the laundry hamper as well. You leave his room with the silver tray and take it to the kitchen. The staff fill the decanter and give you clean crystal glasses. You return to his room and set the tray on his desk. After that, you take the basket of clothes to the laundry room.

Before you know it, the clock strikes one and you make your way to Lucifer's study. You open the door softly and enter, you set down a small tray with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies on his desk. He picks up the cup and takes a sip, the tea is exactly how he likes it.

“Are you here to tell me I have to attend another one of those annoying meetings?” Lucifer asks in a slightly irritable tone. He spins the chair around to face you, his yellow eyes fixate on yours.

“I’m afraid so, your majesty.” You reply. Lucifer groans and slumps back in his chair. Sometimes he can be a little childish, you cover your mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Y/N, I can’t sit through another one of those meetings. I will literally wilt away into nothing.” Lucifer says, he turns to face you and takes your hand in his. He softly squeezes it, your face turns a little pink as you look down and meet his begging eyes with yours.

“Can you go instead? Pretty please?” You can never resist those eyes and he knows it. Your face softens and you squeeze his hand back.

“Okay, but don't make this a habit.” You say you let go of his hand. Still trying to retain some sort of professionalism.

“Thanks doll, I owe you one.” He says with a warm smile, the same smile that makes your heart skip a beat every single time. You bow and leave him to his work, once you get behind closed doors you let out a long sigh, you truly don't want to attend this meeting either. But it can’t be helped, the show must go on.

You grab your overcoat, cellphone, keys, and meet the driver out front. It didn't take long to arrive at Carmilla’s manor. You have been asked to attend a meeting with the overlords and report back to Lucifer. The guards led you through the manor to a large meeting room, you open the door and it seems everyone is in attendance.

The V’s, Zestial, Alastor, Rosie, Zeezi and Ms Carmilla Carmine herself. You take the empty seat next to Zestial.

“My my, I didn't think Lucifer would send his pet, but Miss Carmine, I thought there was a No Dogs Allowed sign out front?” Alastor immediately starts with the catty behavior. You don't have time for any of this, you need to be home soon to serve supper.

"Your words are like a bad song on repeat. Spare us." You retort with your arms folded. The Radio Demon gives you a sinister stare and you roll your eyes at his half baked attempt at scaring you.

“Please, can we start this stupid meeting? I have somewhere to be.” Velvet says looking at her phone, not paying much attention to anything else. Vox agrees with her and Carmilla begins to speak on various topics.

The meeting felt like it ran longer than expected, it was concerning how we move forward now that exterminations are no longer an issue. They spoke of which towns were hit the hardest by the attack, what kind of ongoing plans they have and how to proceed with caution, for we do not trust the Angels and their hidden intentions. After a while, the conversations started to devolve into personal ones.

“Lucifer will be assisting the Pride Ring as best he can, any requests for aid on his part can go through me for approval. Trust that they will be hand delivered to him in person. The King wants nothing more to provide relief for his people.” Was the last thing you said before getting up and excusing yourself from the meeting, politely.

When you make it back to the car, you let out a sigh of relief. It's finally over, time to head back to the manor. When you returned it was already late into the afternoon. You hang up your coat and head to the kitchen, you pour Lucifer a small glass full of whiskey and ice. Before you put the bottle back in its place you take a quick swig, that meeting was just agonizing. You needed something to take the edge off.

You walk to the study with the glass on a silver tray, as you open the door, she sees Lucifer in his chair, reading.

“Good afternoon, your majesty.” You greet him with a smile and a short bow.

“Ah good, you’re back. How was the meeting?” He asks, genuinely curious. 

“It was…interesting, to say the least.” You reply while handing him the glass. “I can see why you did not want to attend.”

“They are so insufferable, right?” He says and takes a sip. 

“Indeed, sir.” You don't wish to mention Alastor’s comment from earlier, the last thing you need to do is give him something to be cross about.

“Dinner will be ready soon. Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” You ask politely.

“Oh no, you always do so much. Thank you Y/N.” Lucifer takes another sip of his whiskey.

You dismiss yourself and head down to the kitchen to help prepare dinner for yourself and Lucifer.

Lucifer spins around in his chair and takes a sip of the drink you left him with. He’s trying to hide it but he’s absolutely exhausted. Lately when he’s tried to sleep, memories flood his mind like ghosts of the past. The absence of warmth beside him was a void he could not fill. When he will be free from the torment, he is unsure. But every day he wakes up and there you are, right beside him as always. He knows you try to put off a cold exterior, you’re the king's guard dog after all. You were always one to never indulge your secrets but he knew a few things about you that no one else did.

The night you held him in your lap it looked as though he had fallen asleep. While you carded your fingers through his hair you whispered “I wish you knew how remarkable I think you are.” He heard you loud and clear. The King always had a space in his heart dedicated to you, but you’re his advisor, consultant, and au pair. How would the world see you both as a couple? It was certainly something that would be looked down upon by most. A bell rings and pulls him from his thoughts, dinner is ready.

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He sits in his usual spot and you always sit on his right side. Dinner was a mix of high grade meats and vegetables. You cut into your food and display proper table manners, Lucifer sneaks glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

“I scheduled a time for you to visit your daughter's hotel this Thursday.” You remark and Lucifer nods with food in his mouth.

“Good, I’ve been meaning to visit, I’ve just been so tired lately, and If I’m not tired I’m busy.”

“You need some proper rest, sir.” You state the obvious. You wish there was something else you could do to assist him with this.

“Trust me, if I had the choice I’d be asleep right now, my dear.” He takes another bite, his face looks a little forlorn. Usually you would keep to yourself unless Lucifer would outright say something is wrong, but this is different.

“Is there something wrong, sir?”

“No, it's nothing, Y/N. I’m just tired, I swear.” He says, trying to brush off any depressive feelings. You give him a bit of side eye but decide to let it go. But deep down you knew something was troubling him. It was just a matter of if and when he will tell you. You both continue eating, he tells you about the book he's reading in hopes to clear the melancholy vibe in the room. You sit and listen to him ramble on like any other normal day.

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It was getting late, Lucifer was in his room, drink in hand. Outside, the world slumbered beneath a blanket of stars, oblivious to his pain. With the window open he seeks solace in the cold night air. But the chill only served to remind him of the emptiness inside. He downs the rest of his drinks and sets it on the nightstand. He crawls under the covers and closes his eyes and wraps his arms around himself as he tries to get some rest.

But all he could see is her, walking away, leaving him heartbroken and devastated. A single tear falls down his cheek. He buries his face in the pillow and tries to forget these memories, good and bad. The minutes pass like fleeting shadows, and Lucifer finally starts to fall asleep. But not long after he wakes up in a cold sweat with a scream. His chest heaves and he feels like he can’t breathe, he looks down at his shaking hands.

You were doing your rounds in your silk pajamas, locking doors and shutting windows. You said goodnight to the kitchen staff and headed upstairs. Then suddenly you hear a loud scream come from Lucifer's bedroom, you immediately rush up the stairs to the door and open it.

He’s sitting upright in his bed, knees against his chest, holding his face in his hands. Tears streaming down his cheeks as he recalls the haunting memories. You don't say anything, you quickly sit beside him and place your hand on his back. He immediately pulls you in for a hug, you’re surprised at first but you hug him back. He buries his face in your shoulder, letting out soft muffled sobs. 

“Shhhh…it's going to be okay…I’m here…I’ve got you.” You whisper soft words of reassurance in his ear, he just hugs you tighter.

“I’m so sorry…” He says between sniffles and you start to gently rub his back. You wished there was a way to stop him from feeling so miserable, but all you can do is sit and comfort him for as long as he needs. In the safety of your arms, the remnants of the dream began to dissipate. Your familiar voice and smell provided a soothing counterpoint to the chaos of his mind.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, my dear.” You say as you pet the back of his head, his face finally emerges from your shoulder and meets your gaze. You gently wipe away any stray tears with your thumb and give him a soft smile. “Tough times don’t last, tough people do, and you’re one of the strongest people I know.” You say just barely above a whisper. 

A small smile appears on his face and you brush away a few stray hairs, glad that your king is feeling a little better. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel more at ease?”

“I do have one request…But I’m not sure how you’re gonna feel about it.” He says, while looking away, he’s definitely embarrassed by his own question.

“Try me.” You reply, it can’t be that bad, he’s never asked you to do anything you’re not okay with.

“I would really appreciate it if I didn't have to sleep alone tonight…” He finally asks, he blushes a little, unsure if that's even okay to ask. You can't help but also turn a little red, this is absolutely not allowed, but maybe the rules have exceptions in times of crisis.

“Yeah…I can do that.” You agree.

Lucifer’s golden eyes widen and he perks up a bit. “R-Really?”

“Yes, really.” You chuckle softly.

Lucifer crawls back under the covers and opens his arms for you to join him. You crawl over to him and settle in, his arms wrap around you and you lace your fingers with his hand, allowing him to spoon you. His body heat and the chill night air was the perfect combination to lull you to sleep.

“Goodnight Luci~” You say before sleep starts to drag you away from this world. A nickname you lovingly use very rarely. He nuzzles your shoulder and drifts off rather quickly with nothing but a content smile on his face. When you two will admit your feelings for each other is a mystery, but for now, you’re happy just to be his biggest support system. If there's one thing you’ve learned living with Lucifer, it's that devotion in any form, is love with wings.

[weirdsht]

cale with idiots in love trope

- "You're cute" "hm?" "I said you look like a boot."

- casual displays of affection, hand holding bc s/o would space out and may or may not get lost (directionally challenged)

- pretending everything is casual, but they're soooo in love with each other

- "I look like a mess" "the prettiest mess"

- the kids absolutely love when they get cuddles with cale and s/o

- maybe braiding cales hair??

- whenever cale goes somewhere and can't bring them, they'd go like "I'll be going for a while" (cale) "I'll always be here" (s/o)

- stealing cales clothes bc its comfy!!

- "are you asleep?" "...no" "wanna talk?"

- "I love you" "I've loved you my entire life"

Can’t Two People Be Friends? - Cale/Gn! Reader

tags: gender-neutral reader, deputy commander reader, getting together fic, vague novel spoilers, is told from Alberu's perspective, tired Alberu, save Alberu from his dumb dongsaeng, use of degrading words (e.g. stupid) but it's in a loving way, have I mentioned Alberu is tired of Cale's shit?

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

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another anon said: cale who acts like a lover to his "closest confidant", though they are not in a relationship, they certainly do act like one– to the point that his crew would question them, to which they'd respond "We're just friends" "What do you mean? They look at you like you're their entire world"– which then starts their operation, get cale a lover

Cale Henituse is someone who has a lot of people under his wing. He's a heroic person busy saving the continents– no, the world. Which was why it is no surprise to find out that he has a close confidant. He has a second-in-command who helps him plan everything and is in charge of backup plans in case something goes wrong.

All of that is normal. Expected even.

What isn’t normal is how they act towards each other.

They act like… people who have a deeper relationship than just friends, for lack of a better term.

Like right now. [Name] is holding onto Cale’s arms as they navigate through this tiresome ball. Looking at him as if he had hung up the moon and the stars.

“Your Highness, you are quite close to the both of them… are we sure they are merely close friends?”

One of the nobles talking to Alberu Crossman questions as everyone watches the commander-and-deputy-commander duo dance in the centre of the hall.

“Of course they are. They have said so themselves.”

Alberu adds on at the end about how they shouldn’t inquire about another person’s private life.

However, Alberu himself is quite frustrated.

It was the truth when he said the two are nothing more than friends. And that’s what frustrates him. The two idiots can’t see the way they stare at each other. Can’t notice how they are unconsciously each other’s priority no matter what happens.

Alberu also knows that he isn’t the only one feeling this way.

No, as a matter of fact, everyone in Cale’s group feels the same frustration the future king feels.

“When will they get together? They deny their feelings as if we didn’t see them cuddling last night while reading a novel.”

On complained one day while eating the crown prince’s cookies.

“I’ve always known that our young master was quite dense in the aspect of love but… hmmm, I must say that this level is getting frustrating.”

Ron shared his own opinion as he served everyone tea.

Well everyone except the two people who are the topic of their discussion. Of course, they aren’t. For they were busy cuddling in the newly installed swing in the garden of the black castle while reading a novel. [Name] is busy platonically nuzzling their head in Cale’s chest, while Cale himself is busy platonically draping his legs over [name] as they lay down on the large swing.

‘Merely friends my ass’

Alberu thinks to himself as he watches the two from the window while sipping on the tea Ron served.

The people inside the room merely complained about Cale and [Name]’s relationship. They did not say anything about forcing them to get together and be in a romantic relationship.

And it’s not because they respect what the two have now.

No, it was simply because they didn’t need to say such things out loud. The complaints they have said out loud are enough confirmation to ensure that everyone is on the same page.

That everyone will be doing their best to show those two knuckleheads that what they have is more than platonic.

“You do know that you only let [Name] braid your hair like that. Do you realise just how much special privilege you give them?”

“What special privilege? The kids also braided my hair.”

Alberu’s dumb dongsaeng stared at him in confusion and the crown prince swears his about to have an aneurysm.

“Yes, but they are your kids. Of course, you’ll indulge them.”

“That is true…”

For a moment Alberu thought that they were finally heading somewhere.

“But [Name] is the only one who can braid my hair neatly like this.”

Turns out the only place they are heading to is back to square one.

Alberu pushed down the urge to smack a chair in his beloved dongsaeng’s face. How could he forget Ron’s existence? The Ron that does every task perfectly, but still could not braid the redhead’s hair because ‘only [Name] can do it perfectly’.

Cale better be glad Alberu didn’t transform Taerang into a hammer and threw it in his face.

“I love you, you know that right?”

[Name] had asked Cale during one of their cuddling sessions and Raon’s ears perked up.

“Of course I do.”

Cale answered casually and it got Raon’s hopes up.

“Are you guys together???”

He asked, eyes full of hope.

“What do you mean silly? Of course, we’re together, we’ve been friends for years now.”

That night Raon did not speak to any of them, and the two idiots only thought he was sick and tried to coax him to talk to them.

Subtle advances like that continued for a while before they all admitted defeat. One day Rosalyn even straight up asked [Name] how they felt about Cale. To which the deputy commander only responded with “he’s my best friend of course” before going on their merry way to steal another one of Cale’s clothes.

Just when all of them are about to give up Alberu caught the two of them talking in that same swing one night. 

He was about to go back to the palace. Only went to sneak into Raon’s castle to talk to Cale about an important business that cannot be said through a communication device. However, just as he was about to teleport back he heard the two.

“Why are you still awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep. You weren’t in bed.”

“Wanna talk then?”

Alberu silently scoffs at them. Even their conversations sound like their married already.

They talk for a few minutes. Topics vary from the mundane to philosophical questions no one can answer. 

It didn’t look like Alberu would get anything from eavesdropping so he thinks about going home.

But then…

“I know we’re both too busy. I know this will only add more burden to you. However, I must say it.”

[Name] spoke gently. Their eyes which were previously watching the stars shifted their focus to stare at Cale’s face.

“I love you. I love you so much. I love you more than life.”

That made the crown prince stop in his tracks. For a moment he remembers Raon’s complaints about how they seem to say “I love you” to each other without it meaning anything. For a moment he doubted if it was a confession.

Of course that didn’t stop him from recording the whole thing.

“I love you too. I’ve loved you this entire time. I’ll love you even after death.”

At Cale’s reciprocity, Alberu finally moved to give the privacy. He may want to see the two of them get together, but he does not want to see them kiss. A confession was enough to satisfy him.

But the irritation he feels from waiting for them to confess did not go away.

Hence why instead of going home he first went to his instructor, Choi Han.

Alberu Crossman did not say to the swordmaster. He only hands him a piece of paper before going back to his palace.

In that paper wrote:

The two idiots are finally together. I have a recording if anyone is interested. I’ll show it in exchange for a recording of you lightly smacking my lovely dongsaeng head upside-down. I’m sure my instructor will understand where I’m coming from.

Choi Han does. He greatly understands where his student was coming from.

That’s why, the next morning he was setting up a hidden recording device with a smile on his face.

Oh, he also got everyone’s permission before he set it up. In fact, most of them cheered at the thought of him physically knocking some sense in their young master’s head. 

[fear-less]

anyone of your choice x a reader who is like luna lovegood.... hear me out

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 butterfly wings

paring: sirius black x f!reader

➥ In which Sirius Black, seeking solitude on a quiet Friday night, unexpectedly meets a quirky girl who hums Muggle songs, has silly looking hair and clothes, and sees the world through a completely different lens, making him question everything he thought he knew about life and himself.

warnings: written in 2nd pov, she/her pronouns used, flufffff, sirius experiences love at first sight lowkey, ditzy reader, hair described as wavy, lmk if i missed anything

a/n: enjoy this short & sweet fic 😋 feel free to request more pics like this.. lowkey had a blast writing this fic ngl, also how are we loving this alive era !!?? finals are gonna end me tho, hoping to post more when im on break <3

1.1k words

The sun was just starting to dip behind the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the Hogwarts grounds. Sirius Black was leaning lazily against a tree near the edge of the black lake, watching the evening sky. His thoughts were far from the upcoming Potions exam, or even from the constant tension with his family. No, tonight he was simply enjoying the stillness of the moment—until the sound of a soft humming reached his ears.

He turned to see a girl wearing clothes nowhere near their dress robes, skipping through the tall grass, a pair of oversized, mismatched socks peeking out from beneath the hem of her skirt. In one hand, you clutched a jar that looked suspiciously like it was filled with glitter, and in the other, a half-eaten pumpkin pastie. The evening breeze tugged at your hair, but it only seemed to make you twirl in delight, as though you were dancing with the wind itself.

​​Sirius couldn’t help but smile despite himself. There was something about the way she seemed entirely out of sync with reality, like you were living in a world all your own. It was... fascinating. Most people would’ve been inside on a Friday night, but not you. No, you were humming a song Sirius couldn’t quite place, looking up at the sky as if you expected to find something wonderful there.

Sirius raised an eyebrow as you continued humming, a soft, dreamy melody he now realized was some Muggle song. He considered whether or not to interrupt your song with a conversation. He had come down to the lake to escape the raucous laughter of his friends—he hadn’t planned on talking to anyone, least of all you. But there was something about your carefree presence that pulled him in, something he couldn’t quite explain.

As he watched you, he suddenly felt a strange urge to approach. What am I doing? he thought, before shrugging off the hesitation. Usually, he had no trouble talking to girls. But you were different. There was no rush to impress you or prove something, no game to be played. You were in your own world, so completely other that he felt like he had to break through that bubble of yours, even if it meant making a fool of himself.

He decided, somewhat impulsively, to walk toward you as if he was leaving, hoping you'd say something to stop him—maybe comment on the sunset, or ask if he had seen any magical creatures lately. Something to start a conversation.

As he got closer, a familiar thought crossed his mind. Wait a second… He remembered you now. You were the girl with the wild ideas and strange ways of looking at the world. The one who always seemed to have her mind in the clouds, lost in thoughts others couldn’t seem to follow. You wore mismatched socks, and your shoes were always a little too unconventional for anyone else’s taste. Your hair—today it was streaked with a few colorful hints of pink and blue, strands loosely braided here and there on your wavy hair—was the subject of endless teasing. But you never seemed to care. Whenever the others made fun of you, you'd just smile and continue on as if you hadn’t heard a word. The kind of carefree confidence Sirius had always envied, yet never fully understood.

As Sirius approached, lost in this memory, you suddenly broke the silence, your voice light and dreamy. "If you walk any closer and choose not to move, you might just bump into me," you said, still gazing up at the sky as though you were watching constellations rearrange themselves.

Sirius froze, taken aback, his steps stuttering to a stop. A sheepish smile tugged at his lips, part embarrassed, part amused. "Oh, sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I wasn't really paying attention."

He had been so distracted by the way your hair caught the fading light that he hadn't even realized how close he’d gotten. It was wild, yet soft, a tangled mess of waves and braids, with hints of color streaking through like a sunset painted in your locks. It was almost… magical.

You gave a simple nod in response, finally pulling your gaze away from the sky to look at him. The moment your eyes locked, Sirius felt an unexpected jolt of warmth spread across his chest. You weren't fazed, but there was something in the way you looked at him—as if he were just another curious face in the crowd. It was strange. Everyone knew who Sirius Black was. But to you? He might as well have been a stranger.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just studied each other.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, feeling the familiar prickle of self-consciousness creeping up his neck. Why was it so easy to talk to people who were busy trying to impress him, but with you? It was like he’d been dropped into a world where none of his usual tricks or charm worked.

You squinted at him, your gaze flickering as if you were trying to place him, but the recognition didn’t come. You looked at him like he was someone new, someone you had never seen before.

And, strangely, that made him feel more vulnerable than anything else.

When you finally looked away, returning your attention to the horizon, Sirius took a breath, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling of being seen in a way he wasn’t used to. He was about to say something when you broke the silence once more.

"Did you know," you said, your voice soft and faraway, "that sometimes the stars make shapes in the sky that are only visible to certain people? Some call it a ‘soul alignment,’ but I think it’s more about... perspective." You looked back at him, your eyes sparkling with a quiet certainty. "Maybe we’ll see something special tonight. Something we weren’t supposed to."

Sirius blinked, his confusion evident. "Soul alignment? What do you mean?"

You smiled gently, not offering an explanation, but instead turning back to the sky. "You wouldn’t understand it yet. But it’s something that will make sense eventually."

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but for some reason, his usual quick-wit failed him. The bizarre serenity in your voice, the way you looked at the sky like it held secrets only you knew, left him momentarily speechless.

He watched as you turned the jar of stardust in your hands, staring at the sparkles inside. It wasn’t real, was it? But somehow, in your hands, it felt like it might be.

"So," he began, slowly, unsure of where this conversation was headed but unable to resist it, "how do you see the world, then? Different from everyone else?"

You paused, considering the question. Then, with a soft laugh, you turned to him. "Not different. Just... more patient."

And for the first time in his life, Sirius Black felt the weight of the stars overhead. Maybe it was the stardust in the jar, or maybe it was the quiet, patient way you saw the world—but whatever it was, he realized that he wanted to see it, too.

[a-simple-imagine]

Too Cute to be Angry

Synopsis: A night spent talking to politicians and alt right superheroes is enough to drive anyone crazy but it's sister sage that puts you over the edge

Pairing: Victoria Neuman x fem!supe!reader (feline shifter)

Words: 3k+

A/N - self ingulgent little cat girl fic with my favourite supe written entirely for myself :)

WARNINGS - swearing, brief mention of murder and homophobia

Victoria Neuman was the busiest woman you know. if she wasn't spending her days in meetings or on Zoom calls, she was attending interviews or making speeches. she was a very driven woman. had big goals. ones you could hardly even fathom but not from lack of trying. you wanted to be part of her world but at the same time, it was so difficult to comprehend. it's not as simple as black and white. the people she surrounded herself with weren't always the best and for the most part, it's clear she tries to keep you out of it. possibly some misguided attempt to protect you.

it was a rare afternoon that was cleared just for you. nobody else around. no work calls or meetings. just the two of you sharing a quiet moment. laying on the couch with your head in her lap.A delicate hand scratches behind the feline ears that live upon your head. it feels good; and calming.a sluggish but continuous rhythm that was drawing you to drowsiness. She wouldn't mind. it wouldn't be the first time nor the last that you fell asleep on her.

"babe,"

"yeah?"

"how would you feel about going out tonight?" the answer was no. it was always going to be no. you were too content with a quiet evening to suddenly have plans thrust upon you.

"Where?" you question anyway and her hand slows.

"Tek knights." a mumbled answer that your ears pick up loud and clear. she couldn't be serious right now. there is absolutely zero reason why she would be going to see Tek Knight for anything but business and she already promised you no business tonight. it was just gonna be the two of you.

"Are you... serious?"

"some fancy party."

"no," replied snappily. "dude is creepy."

"When have you ever met tek knight?"

"once actually," you state, moving yourself up to look at her. "and he was fucking weird- asked inappropriate questions about my tail." you swish your tail, gently grazing it against her cheek.

"Well, you can just avoid him all night," Victoria insists, shoving your tail away. "I'd really like you to come."

"no thank you, can you go back to scratching behind my ears now." you lay back down.

"no,"

a heavy sigh. "Victoria," whined softly, as you nuzzled into her lap. you're tempted to gently bite her thigh but you don't. that would not help your case right now. "please?"

"if you agree to come I'll give you all the ear scratches you want."

"that's not fair."

"I need a buffer for when I can't take it anymore and that's you," she gives your side a firm pat. "I got you something pretty to wear."

"how pretty," mumbled against her legs.

"very," that meant expensive. you groan, stretching your arms and legs before sitting up. she raises a curious brow that makes you roll your eyes. She wasn't going to let this go.

"fine but you owe me," she places her hand on your head, ruffling your hair, making sure to get behind the ears. you naturally lean into her touch. this was gonna be a very long night.

Tek Knight lives in a mansion. like an actual massive mansion that's old and creepy but also kind of cool. gothic in nature and not an ounce of homeliness to its name. Victoria annoyingly leaves you alone pretty quickly and you're forced to find your own source of amusement. music plays as background noise and there really isn't anything to do here other than touch ornaments or talk with Republicans. She didn't tell you this was gonna be a party filled with right-wing nuts but here you are anyway. conversing with old white men about reproductive rights and how gay people are fine but need to stop shoving their lifestyle down Americans' throats. you observe the party from the corner of the room. helping yourself to the hors d'oeuvres as trays rush by. It's always a wonder why they don't just have actual food at these events or at least something a little less fancy. something actually tasty.

"you're Neuman's girl, right?" it's not inherently wrong so you allow the nickname especially when you realise who it comes from. she has never tried to hide your relationship but she hardly advertised it either. can't scare off the voters or whatever. you don't mind. you're not exactly in a rush to be hounded by the general public. Homelander stands beside you; strong and tall in his red, white and blue super suit. You've never been next to such a powerful supe before excluding Neuman. he was intimidating in real life.

"homelander," you declare obviously. you're not sure what else to say here. Victoria speaks about him a lot. he's also in the news all the time. you very recently watched him on TV. "I saw your trial," blurted out before you thought of the consequences. he probably didn't like to talk about him murdering a man.

"so you saw that I was found innocent,"

you nod a little. he'd been found not guilty despite the overwhelming evidence which was kind of insane but also expected. "Vicky says you should have been locked up," you agreed.

"and what do you think?" he turns his whole body towards you and you do the same. such intense eyes it's almost like he's looking right through you. you may be a supe but you were hardly on his level. Victoria says he's kinda unstable these days and anything can set him off so you try to think of something safe to say.

"I think... your eyes are really fucking blue- no wonder fascists love you," he smiles. you don't know if it's amusement or menacing but surely he understands you're joking. and if not, he likely won't attack at this fancy little party.

"calm down, I'm not going to hurt you."

"What makes you think I'm worried." he wasn't a mind reader that you knew for sure.

"your heartbeat," he replies. "but mostly the ears," the blonde points to the cat ears on the top of your head. "anyone else would call it cute," and with that, he walks away. he was a... confusing man. even from that short interaction, you can tell he can be elusive. alone once more you decide to go in search of a drink but it isn't long before Victoria is at your side.

"hi baby," you're happy to see her. you hope it means you can go home soon.

"hey,"

"What did he want?"

"Who? homelander?" why did she care? "just chatting about his trial and how cute I am."

"how cute you are?" she repeats back slowly.

"Hmm it's no surprise- everyone is obsessed with me so."

"you are adorable,"

a very bright exaggerated smile, showing your canines before your face immediately falls. "can we go yet?"

"you promised you'd hold out a couple of hours," and it was starting to feel like a lifetime.

"and I have," you groan dramatically.

"It's barely been an hour,"

"y'know, I literally got told women have too many rights," you reply. "too. many. rights- what does that even mean?"

Victoria sighs softly. "I know they can be... opinionated but just suck it up for me okay? it'll be over before you know it,"

"I wanna go now,"

"I know," she runs a gentle hand along your back. "but this is important."

"why is it so important?"

"I- I can't tell you that right now," Victoria replies. She never told you anything. it was always just important calls or important meetings or important parties. it made you want to roll your eyes. "just please behave for me," you put on a pout. "and I'll take you to the nice restaurant with the fancy cakes you love,"

"Really?" said cautiously. when in doubt she'll bribe you. not because she doubts you'll do it for free but rather as an insurance policy. better safe than sorry.

"Always so easy," she chuckles. "you gotta work on keeping your ears in check. perked right up when I said that,"

you frown a little, reaching up to cover your ears with your hands. "stupid ears."

"It's cute," she hums softly, a kiss placed against your temple.

"I hate you," said sharply.

"Just... mingle or something." Victoria pats your shoulder before leaving you alone again. you follow her with your eyes as she walks up to some old man. you decide to go for a walk and find that drink you were after.

"you arrived with Neuman," stated matter of factly. sister sage walks up from behind you. you cover your mouth as you finish the little pastry you stole off a tray.

"Sister Sage," mumbled through a mouthful before you swallowed. "newest member of the seven- I heard you're like the smartest woman ever."

"smartest person," she corrected.

"smartest person," you repeat. "what's someone so smart doing in a place like this?"

"we're surrounded by some of the most powerful people in the United States of America right now," Sage explains. you know on some level that should mean something to you but you hardly feel excited or proud. quite the opposite. you were in a room with some of the worst people in the United States of America. Almost all of them are against the very things you are.

"but not the nicest," you grab a champagne flute as it passes by, taking a long-needed sip of bubbly liquid.

"nice only gets you so far," she continues. "you're probably the nicest person here but also the least important."

wow. okay. rude. "I wouldn't call myself the least important."

"I would," she replies. "even the waiters are of more value right now. you're just Neuman's basically pet, cute but useless."

you're not sure what to say to that. is that why Victoria never shared anything with you? didn't think you were important? just a pet to be paraded about like some cute little mascot in her parade for power? "I'm not her pet."

"how do your ears and tail work? they're biological right?" the question catches you a little off guard. such a change.

"uhhhh shouldn't the smartest person alive be able to figure that out?"

"you're a shifter but only into a feline," her eyes trail over you like this was some sort of interview or examination. "do you keep the ears for aesthetic purposes? surely, you can get rid of the cat ears and tail."

"you'd think," you shrug. "but no, I'm cursed to be every nerdy incels wet fantasy." the cat ears and tail were considered cute by many, disgusting by others and a fetish by too many. for a long time, vought used you in a lot of advertisements and commercials until you quit. you still occasionally do some ads and stuff for extra cash. Not often do people see a real-life cat girl. a hand snakes across your back and you instinctively jerk away before realising it's Victoria. "hey,"

"Can we talk?" she wears the fakest smile ever.

"hmm," sage hums. you quirk your brow.

"What?"

"Nothing," she insists. "you have the exact dynamic I would expect. don't mind me." you'd ask what she meant but she is already walking away and Victoria is leading you in the opposite direction.

"what's up?" you wonder.

"I don't want you talking to sister sage."

"why?".

"Can you listen to me for once?"

"for once?" all you do is listen to her. this whole night was for her. "I'm here listening to old men tell me I deserve to go to hell for you. this is worse than that political banquet where that man followed me around the whole night and kept trying to pet me." you huff.

"you don't think I haven't thought about popping my own head every time one of these rich idiots tries to talk to me about reproductive health?" her voice is quiet but stern. she's trying not to cause a scene. "but I put up with it so just suck up. it's important."

"oh really? never would have guessed." you roll your eyes. "I'll just go sit in the corner and stare at the wall since I'm not important enough."

"That's not what I said,"

"no I get it, don't worry," you force a smile and brush past her. "I'll be a good kitty."

it's a quiet ride home. silent even. staring out the window as bright lights zoom past. you can hear Victoria chatting on the phone. much too busy to take note of your angry brow or vacant stare. you're angry at her. Sage's words weren't helping either. playing over and over in your mind. cute but useless. you couldn't necessarily disagree. Even Vought just wanted you because of how you looked. sure you had enhanced strength and senses but that was only compared to humans. there were plenty of much stronger supes. there were even more useful shifters. you just became a cat. agile. sneaky. but ultimately just a common house pet.

"Are you gonna pout all night?" Victoria eventually asks as you pull up outside her home. it pissed you off more.

"I'm sorry, I thought I wasn't allowed to speak." replies sharply as you exit the vehicle; a quick slam of the door. you hear her get out the other side and follow behind.

"I didn't say you couldn't speak,"

"semantics," you huff back. maybe she didn't say you couldn't talk but she did try to control every conversation. who you could and couldn't speak to. always checking in to make sure you weren't saying the wrong thing. "I don't feel like talking."

"We need to."

you just ignore her. That was much better than an argument right now. all you wanted was a hot shower and to go to bed. As soon as you get inside, you march upstairs. She doesn't follow, instead heading towards the kitchen.

the hot water was a welcomed distraction from your otherwise terrible evening. it was supposed to just be about you too and she just couldn't help but make it all about herself. propping herself up to important people. sneaking off for private meetings that you weren't allowed to attend. you go to bed alone. she was probably downstairs working like always. you don't know how long it is before she joins you.

"you have to talk to me eventually," Victoria hums. "can't sulk in your other form forever."

whenever you fought you liked to shift. being a cat was simpler. nobody had any expectations for cats. it was like the perfect excuse to not have difficult conversations. She couldn't understand you after all but you could understand her. loud and clear. "just tell me what's wrong."

you stretch out. fluffy kitty paws morph into human hands and legs sprawled out in the darkness. you sigh softly following on to your back. Victoria is sitting on the edge, looking down at you. "I'm not your pet," growled quietly.

"I never said you were,"

"that's all anyone sees me as," you reply. "Neuman's girl. neuman's pet. cute but useless/ that's what sage said."

"that is why I didn't want you talking to her," she replies.

"but she's right," you express. "you don't treat me like we're equals. you hide stuff from me. tell me it's too important and I won't understand. I'm not a fucking child or your silly little house cat, Victoria."

"Baby," a gentle hand moves to your arm but you shake her off. Moving onto your side and away from her.

"don't."

"Okay," she retracts her hands slowly. there's a moment of silence before she continues. "I don't see you as a child or some silly cat."

"Sure you do,"

"I don't," she insists. "I'm a politician there are some things I just can't share with you-"

"but you don't tell me anything," you interrupt

"but I admit I could share with you more," she proceeds with. "I just... I try to keep you out of all that bullshit. not because I think you're stupid or useless but because it's just easier. I don't want them tearing you down to get to me,"

"But I'm willing to take it,"

"you shouldn't have to. I don't want that for you- for us." she urges. "Sage can say whatever she wants but I don't believe those things about you. You're smart, beautiful and adorable sure but you're not useless. I'm so lucky to have someone as caring and wonderful as you."

"gross," said playfully after a moment. a small smile tugs at your lips though. "Victoria?"

"mhmm?"

"I'm sorry for acting like a spoilt brat tonight,"

"I'm sorry I made you spend an evening with all those awful people," you chuckle lightly as you roll over to look at her. they really were awful people. and maybe you weren't one of the most important people in America but you were a good person. a nice person. and that was much more interesting.

"World's worst and most boring party," you voice. "how did your private meeting go?"

she hesitates. probably a debate on whether to tell you or not. "...pretty well I think."

"Vice President Neuman has a nice ring to it," you tease. smiling up at her in the darkness. a strip of moonlight crosses her face. twinkling in her pretty eyes. it was a wild thought. one day soon you could be dating the vice president of America.

"how do you feel knowing you'll be the second lady?"

"oooh so official. so important."

"you're already so important,"

"to you maybe." you huff.

"does anyone else matter?"

"you of all people saying that is crazy," you semi-tease. it was kinda true. she cared a lot about her image. about how the world saw her. "let's just go to sleep."

Victoria doesn't answer but she does lie down, shuffling up behind you. there's a slight hesitation like she's not sure if you've truly forgiven her. you move closer to her, resting your head against her chest. listening to the way her heart thumped in her chest "night."

"good night," you hum softly as you let your eyes flutter closed. "I'm gonna get so many fancy cakes tomorrow."

[dragqueenstarscream]

Personally, I'd kill for a Starop fic/ onshot where Starscream finally manages to cut ties with Megatron and it's just fluff of Optimus comforting him and assuring him it was the right thing to do, that everything will be ok for the both of them

-💌 anon

i wanna scream at the top of my lungs

tfp starscream x optimus prime

i've been waiting for an excuse to write something like this! i already have a fic like this planned for my monsterformers continuity, but let's do one for tfp because i just really want starscream to stick it to this particular megatron.

title comes from "lost in the ocean" by glass animals.

contains: established relationship, starscream leaving megatron, implied abuse, angst, fluff, optimus being a supportive partner

the night sky stretched on endlessly over jasper, nevada as the town slept below. apart from a few busy establishments, the people had turned in for the night. the same couldn't be said for the autobots, who were living it up in the omega base, passing around high grade and celebrating a hard fought victory.

away from them, though, sitting on a cliffside, sat one bot in deep contemplation.

starscream looked a mess. though ratchet had patched up his injuries, he still had filth packed into his seams and a smear of energon along his jaw. his thick brows were furrowed in concentration, as if pondering some impossible question.

but one thing stood out above all else.

starscream was alive.

he couldn't believe it himself, the more he thought about it. sure, the evidence for him being alive was right there; he could see the sky above him, feel the ground beneath his pedes, hear the night breeze swirling around his wings. but he felt as if it shouldn't be real. this existence, this reality was obviously nothing more than the dreams of a dying bot, and they would fade any minute now as he joined with the allspark.

but they never faded, and he never died.

the planet turned. the stars above passed by. the night grew shorter. the world moved on.

but starscream still felt stuck in place. mentally, whenever he lost focus of his environment, he found himself back outside the nemesis, daring to look megatron in the eye while his leader held his fusion cannon to his head. he couldn't bring himself out of that standstill. how could he? he was about to die. how could he move on when he was staring death in the face?

the stars drifted by overhead like ships on a glassy black ocean. a lone car drove by on the highway far below. the world moved on.

the sound of heavy thumps tugged starscream out of his thought spiral. for a moment, he thought that megatron had come to finish the job, but he knew the sound of his leader's steps from anywhere.

former leader. he had to keep reminding himself that.

"starscream?" a familiar rumble of a voice said from behind him. of course. it was optimus, doing his team leader duty, as usual.

"what do you want?" starscream grumbled, pulling his knees closer to his chest.

"ratchet told me i'd find you up here," optimus said. he came up on starscream's right and took his seat at the cliffside. the two bots stayed quiet for a few moments until optimus broke the silence. "how are you feeling?"

"how do you think i'm feeling?" starscream snorted derisively. "i'm now public enemy number one of the entire decepticon legion."

optimus only nodded, and his silence allowed starscream some more time to vent. "i can't believe i did that. i can't believe i actually did that. what kind of glitchhead says something like that?"

"what do you mean?" optimus asked, turning to look at starscream.

"what are you- i told megatron to go frag himself!" starscream exclaimed. "no one does that unless they have a death wish!"

"starscream," optimus started to say, but starscream wasn't done rambling.

"i should be offline," he said bluntly, getting up and starting to pace back and forth. "i shouldn't even be here. i told him off, and now, the entire decepticon legion will come for me."

"starscream," optimus spoke up, but starscream had more to say.

"why am i still here?" starscream asked, shaking his head, optics turned skyward. "i don't even know how i'm still online! primus, optimus, he had his cannon to my head! i can still feel it! and yet i told him to his face to stick it up his aft! how am i still here? how am i still online?!"

"starscream."

the stern tone of optimus' voice made starscream jump. he fell silent as he looked over to his partner, whose face was now fixed in a hard countenance. after a minute's quiet, optimus' face softened, and he began to speak again.

"you're scaring yourself with things that never happened," he said. "there's no need to be saying that you should be dead, because you aren't. you survived."

"but why?" starscream asked. "i still can't process it."

"because you were right," optimus said, "and megatron knew it. you may have been his second in command, but you were also his tool."

"what do you mean by that?" starscream asked.

"he used you to instill fear in the others," optimus explained. "you were an example he would set to the other decepticons. he needed you to exert his authority over them. now, with you gone, he doesn't have that weapon anymore."

"how do you know any of this? you weren't even there to witness it," starscream huffed.

"because i know that side of megatron very well," optimus sighed. "i know how ruthless he can be. you are not the only one he has hurt."

starscream didn't say anything. he knew the history that optimus and megatron had once shared. of course optimus knew what megatron was like. arguably, optimus knew him better than anyone else.

"i suppose you're right," starscream mumbled after an awkward silence as he sat back down, knees curled to his chest. it was the closest thing to an apology that he could muster at the moment.

"this was a long time coming," optimus said.

"too long," starscream grumbled, resting his forehead against his knees.

"either way," optimus said, "you did the right thing."

"by what? running?" starscream barked out a laugh. "i just did what i've always done."

"starscream, i was there with you," optimus said. "i saw what really happened. i saw you stand before megatron and choose to live for yourself, rather than him."

"optimus, i could've offlined where i stood," starscream snarled. "he had his cannon to my head!"

"and yet you stood your ground," optimus continued. "you made him back down. that takes incredible courage."

starscream huffed and turned his head away. "the only reason he left was because you were there to kick his aft if he tried anything," he sneered. in a quiet tone, he added, "that's the only reason i could stand up to him at all."

"starscream, no one else could've done what you did back there," optimus insisted. "and there is no shame in having someone to support you. i couldn't have made it as far as i have in this war without the autobots by my side. none of us have gone through this war alone, and no one is expecting you to do so." he reached out and wrapped his arm around starscream's waist, an invitation for a hug. "though we all have our own battles to fight, it doesn't mean we have to fight alone."

starscream sighed and moved closer to optimus, leaning into his touch. optimus gently squeezed his waist and turned to kiss him on his temple.

"do you remember what you told him?" optimus asked. "right at the end?"

"of course i do," starscream snipped. he took a deep invent, then said, in a calmer tone, "i told him, 'you need me, but i will never need you again.'"

"you said the right thing," optimus reassured him. "you won't ever have to go back to him again."

"you know he'll come looking for me," starscream huffed. "he doesn't like it when his prey gets away."

"if he ever comes back," optimus began, but starscream interrupted him.

"when he comes back," starscream corrected him.

"if he ever comes back," optimus insisted, "we're here for you." he squeezed starscream's side and said, "i'm here for you."

starscream chuckled and laid his head on optimus's side. "i know you are."

optimus smiled and kissed starscream again. "i'm proud of you, sweetspark. i love you."

"the feeling's mutual, you overgrown sap," starscream smirked, which made optimus chuckle warmly.

"the others are inside awaiting your presence, if you'd like to see them," optimus informed starscream. "i have to say, they're rather impressed with your bravery."

"as they should be," starscream joked. "not many people have told megatron to shove his cannon up his aft and survived."

optimus shook his head and laughed as he rose to his pedes. he reached one servo out to starscream, who gladly accepted and pulled himself up. together, the two autobots made their way back into the base, ready to return to the party bulkhead had set up for them.

the stars turned as the night passed on. wispy clouds drifted by. insects flitted back and forth along the wind. the world moved on.

and starscream knew, deep in his spark, that he would, too.

[acid-ixx]

If you don’t mind me asking, what does your planning process look like for your chapters and what do you write first?? I’m trying to write my own Ybatfam fic rn but I just don’t know what to add to my chapters and really just how to start them.

I love your work, your really the one who inspired me to try writing my own🩵🩵🩵

hii anon !! i'm glad u asked this, though i am no way an expert in writing, i've been doing so for years now and i've learned quite a lot from it. thanks for asking this and i hope this is comprehensive enough 😭

so when it comes to planning for a chapter, or just a one-shot, i always write out what i want to establish within it. ask yourself; what does the chapter center around? would it be the relationships with characters, or the emotions you want to portray, is it angsty or just hurt/comfort? in planning, i write the general gist of what will happen through the entire thing (read: planned fanfics) before i move on to outlining.

and here, outlining helps like a god. i like to separate a chapter into multiple parts, and combine them altogether in the end. so when it comes to outlines, i just write out what i want to write and not the actual dialogue or actions in it (example: in this scene, jason tries to talk it out with you, you fight back and force him to let you out. in the next part, you're of the apartment and near to breaking down, you don't notice two sets of eyes watching over you).

sometimes, if i'm ever stuck i just write in the middle or the end because it helps me establish a flow and the build up.

also, setting the settings, changing the atmospheres, adding parallelism, and using figures of speech (simile, metaphors, personifications, etc. (e.g. conner knows you're perfect, with just how the flowers at the manor sings for your presence or how the beams of sunlight always directs itself at you)) are really helpful for when my writing feels dry or doesn't feel as compelling. it's not always required but it helps adding flowery (but not-so much) words or relating characters into objects with symbolisms to give readers an even deeper insight of who the characters is and why they are like that.

writing for the actual chapter, even starting it is always going to be the hard part. it's like starting an essay, but i suggest treating it like an essay— what do you want to focus on? always remember that the start of a chapter helps set up the mood and pacing of the story, so whether it'd be action packed or something lighthearted, reflect it upon the flow of your words too.

start with an interesting hook, whether it'd be rhetorical questions or digging deep into a character's personality and diving into specifics about it, have key points and expound upon it; and always take note of the atmosphere of how your entire story should be, show it through actions, reactions, gestures and dialogues.

otherwise, i've not much to say but take your time and don't pressure yourself with trying to achieve perfection. i'm pretty much someone who likes to write out my ideas before the actual planning so most of the time i wing most of what i want to write (loving family, unpalatable desire is a product of it) and hope to god that whatever outcome will be decent.

and thank you so much anon for finding me as an inspiration 🥹 it's unbelievable, the amount of support i mean— and if you ever do wish to post your own fic and feel doubtful of it still, you can always also chat me through my chatbox here in tumblr since it's pretty much open for anyone.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - VII

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.8k.

Reading Time: 28 min.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, blood drinking, corruption kink, drunk sexual content, dubcon (due to drunk sexual content), fear kink, fingering, frottage, graphic injuries, getting drunk, masturbation, mentions of sexual harassment, multiple orgasms, nipple play, PTSD, rape kink, vaginal fingering, virgin kink

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics @howlingco @sirianisrock

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

Copia winced at the sound of Mountain’s screams, the agony in his voice too much to bear. Still, he didn’t look away. He wanted to show that he was there for his loyal ghoul, even if this whole ordeal was his fault in the first place. He couldn’t look away because he wanted Mountain’s pain to be his, and prayed to the Dark One that his ghoul would heal soon, and more painlessly than this. The guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the unintended consequences of his actions.

The medical staff were doing their best to treat the demon’s burns, using Hellfire to cauterise the would and hope that it would heal his burn, and strengthen him. But, they could only hope, as none of the staff were old enough to remember the last time an angel fell into the hands of the Ministry and had to do this. Hell, even Copia wasn’t old enough to remember that and he was pushing 300.

Copia felt a sense of shame tightening its grasp on his heart like a vice as his mind returned to the terrifying scene of your fall. When you needed your wings the most, they failed you, and he had watched helplessly as you crashed into the ground. He’d been overcome in that little moment by a feeling of dread, a deep-seated terror that seemed determined to swallow him whole.

He had never been one to run from difficulties, but seeing you in pain had touched something deep inside of him, bringing regret and grief that he had long buried to the surface. He carried the heavy burden of ensuring the security and welfare of his fellow demons as the head of the Ministry, but he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he had let you down when you were most in need. You were in unbearable pain, as was Mountain, and Sister Imperator was breathing down his neck the entire time because he was disappointing her as well. The world was spinning too fast and he just wanted to get off.

Copia felt sorry for you, going over the day’s events in his head in an attempt to find any indication that he could have done more to keep you from falling. Had he been too complacent, too consumed by his own goals to notice his imminent danger? Or had circumstances worked against him, creating a tragic mosaic that was out of his control? Was this infernal intervention to get him to admit to his wrongdoings, and his deep-rooted emotions that he pushed down and down until he could no longer feel them? Perhaps the Dark One was disappointed by him, too.

Copia’s thoughts were plagued by the image of your fall, a constant reminder of your frailty and the harsh turns of events that have the power to break even the most resilient souls. He could still clearly remember the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach as he saw you fall from the sky, your elegant shape swishing and tumbling through the air like a leaf caught in a hurricane. His stomach lurched.

In that heart-stopping moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl, each passing second stretching out into an eternity as Copia’s mind raced with a thousand unanswered questions. How had it come to this? What unseen force had conspired to bring you to the brink of disaster? And most importantly, what could he do to save you from the impending doom that threatened to consume you whole?

The weight of guilt settled heavily upon Copia’s shoulders as he confronted the painful truth that lay at the heart of his turmoil. In the business of the medical wing, with Mountain’s cries as background music, and the echoes of your fall still ringing in his ears, he could no longer ignore the role he had played in your suffering.

The regret he felt for his deeds, his brutality, and his selfishness returned to haunt him with every instant that went by. It was like a never-ending wave of shame that was about to swallow him whole. He remembered the way he had kept you trapped, a helpless prisoner in his domain, subjecting you to unspeakable torment and degradation at his hands.

The insight came to him like a tonne of bricks, bringing to light the depths of his own depravity. He had wielded his power over you like a weapon, using your vulnerability to satisfy his own twisted desires and gratify his basest impulses. In his arrogance and pride, he had convinced himself that he held dominion over you, that you were nothing more than a plaything to be used and discarded at his whim.

But Sathanas, he couldn’t ever forget the way you looked on your knees for him, his thumb in your mouth and those big, wide, innocent eyes staring up at him in confusion, hatred and fear. The way the pigment of your lips stretched over his thumb, the feeling of your tongue laving over his skin as you sucked on the appendage, completely oblivious to the way all the blood in his body was gathering at his cock, and his half-full length screaming at him, begging him to push you onto your back, lift your robes and defile you completely. He couldn’t help but think of the sounds you’d make, if you enjoyed it or would want him to stop. How loud would your pleasure make you scream for him? Or would you long for the safety of your cage as he ravaged you not two metres away from it?

Of course, when he finally had you hanging off his cock, it would be consensual. He was a lot of things, but a filthy misogynist wasn’t one of them. That was the thing that separated the Satanic church from their Catholic siblings, and something he prided himself on. If he fucked you, it would be because you wanted him to. It was half of the reason why he spent so long being so kind to you - that whole event in his chamber where you were on your knees taking what he gave you, you didn’t consent. It was likely that you had no idea that you even needed to, meaning you couldn’t give your consent. He’d broken the one rule he told himself to abide by, and the guilt was eating him alive. And while none of his subsequent actions could make him atone for his sins, he would do the most to make sure he got close enough to it.

But the fact that he’d never do that again didn’t stop him from thinking about it all the time, wrapping his hand around his cock in the shower and imagining how you’d feel beneath him. You’d get so wet for him, willingly or otherwise. Those big, wide eyes staring at him as he took you on his chamber floor, using your body for his own pleasure. You would be his vulnerable, little plaything, and you’d come to enjoy the feel of him buried deep inside you eventually, if you didn’t enjoy the first time you spent together.

Those fantasies would remain thoughts he had in the shower, though. And he’d only act on them with your permission further down the road. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He’d be better than he was before. He swore that. He could and would never hurt you again, no matter how much his mother wanted him to.

Mountain was going to be okay. The nurses worked hard and tirelessly to take away his pain and make him comfortable, but it did mean that he would be out of commission for a short while. Copia couldn’t help but count his blessings at this, now that everything in his life was quiet save for you. And it was to you that his thoughts turned to next.

He made his way back towards his apartments and opened the door slowly, unsure of where you’d be. You were nowhere in the living room, and so he assumed he’d find you in his bedroom - the assumption being correct.

You’d healed, Copia had no doubt that was to do with the fact that you wore your halo for the first time in a long time, and so he didn’t brace himself to see you as the mangled mess you were not one hour ago when you made impact with the ground. But you were curled up in a ball in front of your cage, your wings wrapped around you as though you were holding yourself, comforting yourself like a child who’d been hurt or abandoned by the ones they loved the most.

When Copia saw you curled up on the ground with your wings wrapped around you like a shield, his heart fell. His chest constricted with a twinge of empathy as he saw the anguish carved into your features and the tears still glistening on your cheeks.

He stood motionless in the doorway for a moment, not knowing what to say or do. He wanted to be there for you, to give you some measure of solace, but he was too consumed by the guilt that still weighed heavily on his mind. It was him, after all, who had placed you in this situation, who had caused you to endure unspeakable horrors, and who had caused you to suffer unfathomable pain.

Copia sighed heavily and moved slowly towards you so as not to startle you. He squatted next to you, his hand tentatively hovering over your shoulder before settling it gently. “Angel,” he said quietly, his voice full of sincere worry. “Are you alright?”

He was waiting tensely for your reply, praying beyond prayer that you would let him confide in you, that you would let him feel your suffering and give you the comfort you sorely needed. However, he knew deep down that his regret would always be overshadowed by the weight of his actions and that words could never make up for the harm he had done.

You were silent for a moment, slowly raising your head to meet the Cardinal’s gaze as the significance of his presence began to register. Your eyes scanned his face for any indication of sincerity or regret, a mixture of pain and uncertainty.

“I…” Your voice caught in your throat as a tumultuous storm of emotions whirled around you. When you did finally say, “I do not know,” your voice was hardly audible above a whisper.

Your words carried a heavy weight of vulnerability, a silent cry for empathy and understanding. You wanted to think the Cardinal genuinely cared about you and was sorry for the suffering he had brought upon you. However, uncertainty lurked in the background of your thoughts, muttering flashbacks of past crimes and broken pledges.

The Cardinal’s hand stayed on your shoulder, a reassuring touch in the thick of your unstable feelings. You leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his closeness despite the doubts that kept popping into your head.

You were overcome with a hectic mix of emotions following the fall. Your body was in excruciating pain at the time, a never-ending reminder of the blow and the wounds it had caused. Though now healed, you could still feel how your body had snapped and bent with gravity, your teeth numb with the fear that rose in you, and the flashback of falling from grace. However, the most excruciating part turned out to be the emotional turmoil.

As you struggled to accept your vulnerability, anxiety took hold of your heart. Any illusions of invincibility had been shattered by the fall, and you were suddenly very much aware of your own existence. You felt exposed and defenceless, in stark contrast to the confident persona you had previously projected.

You felt torn about the Cardinal’s attempt at consolation. You recognised the sincerity of his concern in his gesture, and you were grateful for it. Knowing that he was concerned for your welfare was comforting, particularly during such vulnerable times.

But his presence also acted as a sharp reminder of your complicated relationship. It was impossible to get rid of the remaining mistrust and anger that had built up over time, even with his best attempts to provide comfort. Anything sincere he did now was clouded by his past deeds, which included taking you captive and causing you pain.

A part of you wanted to give in to his comfort and let yourself be supported by him. However, there was also a part of you that was cautious, unwilling to lower your defences and make yourself more vulnerable. He had slashed deep wounds, and healing would require more than words of consolation.

“The ghoul,” you began, sitting up from your position and looking at the Cardinal with wet eyes, “will he be alright?”

The Cardinal nodded. “Takes a lot more than angel tears to bring down the Mountain.” He smiled half-heartedly. “What happened up there?”

“I do not know… not completely. My muscles cramped and I could not regain strength. It did not matter how hard I tried, I could not get my wings to work again.” You started to cry again. “I beg of thee, please do not put me back in that cage again. I did not mean to hurt others.”

It was almost as though you could hear the Cardinal’s heart shattering at your words. The Cardinal’s face softened, regret and sympathy present in his features. He extended his hand hesitantly, as though he wasn’t sure if it would be accepted or rejected. He softly reassured you, “I won’t put you back in the cage,” his voice full of genuine sorrow. “I promise.”

There was silence for a brief moment, broken only by the sound of your sniffles and the gentle hum of the room’s ventilation system. You found yourself grappling with conflicting emotions, torn between the desire to accept the Cardinal’s comfort and the instinct to maintain your guard.

You were nervous as the Cardinal helped you off the floor, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He fastened your wings firmly to keep you from escaping by tying them together with the same chain he’d used previously. He had plans for you, plans that involved taking you somewhere, and you felt a twinge of uneasiness.

He told you to follow him, and you did, keeping quick steps to make sure you didn’t fall behind, as he walked you through the Ministry’s corridors and down multiple flights of stairs. Your mind began to race when you realised he was taking you to the basement. Your memory flooded with how you were treated and how you felt when you first were taken there, and your heart raced with the fear that it was going to happen again. Your whole body froze, making the Cardinal turn around a few paces in front of you, and study you for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I do not wish to go down there again.” You said quietly.

The Cardinal paused, clearly confused, but when he fully registered your body language, he sighed. “You’ll be fine.” He told you, walking back towards you. “We’re not going all the way down to the bottom.”

“Where will we go?”

“Somewhere you can relax and forget about today.” He tugged at your hand. “Let’s go.”

At the base of the stairs that led to the cellar, you hesitated, but the Cardinal steadily held your arm and led you on. The air was thick with the smell of aged wine, and the stone walls were covered in long shadows by the low light.

“Come on, Angel,” the Cardinal urged, his voice soft yet insistent. “It’ll do you good to relax for a bit.”

With uncertain glances up at him, you twitched nervously behind your wings. Even though you weren’t sure about it, there was a part of you that wanted a little break from your problems.

The scent of aged oak and fermenting grapes filled the air as he guided you down to the wine cellar. The long shadows that the low lighting cast against the stone walls heightened the atmosphere of mystery in the subterranean room.

Shivering from the cold, you let the Cardinal pull you deeper as you sighed, taking in the new surroundings. The walls were lined with rows upon rows of wooden barrels, each one holding priceless liquid gold. Stone archways covered each of the rows, as though they were doorways to entirely different rooms.

The Cardinal moved with purpose, selecting a particular bottle and uncorking it with practiced ease. He poured a generous measure of wine into a crystal glass, sparkling in the orange glow of the candlelight, the rich red liquid glinting as it gathered in the cup.

“Here you go,” he said, offering you the glass with a small smile. “A little something to take the edge off.”

You accepted the glass hesitantly, your fingers trembling slightly as you brought it to your lips. The Cardinal watched you intently, his gaze unwavering as you took a hesitant sip.

The wine was unlike anything you had ever tasted before, the flavour bursting across your tongue in a symphony of sensations. It was warm and velvety, with hints of oak and berries dancing on the palate.

Despite your initial reservations, you found yourself taking another sip, then another, until the glass was empty. A warmth spread through your veins, suffusing you with a sense of contentment you hadn’t felt in ages.

The Cardinal placed the bottle down onto a nearby table, and wandered to a different archway, grabbing a bottle you recognised. It was one of the bottles he’d used the last time he’d drained you. He poured himself a glass as well, taking a long sip before setting the glass down on . He leaned against the wall and gestured for you to sit, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“You alright there, Angel?” He asked, his voice soft with genuine concern. “You seem a bit… tense.”

You nodded slowly, the alcohol already starting to cloud your thoughts. “I’m fine,” you replied, your words slurring slightly. “Just… adjusting, I suppose.”

The Cardinal chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, you’re in good company,” he said, taking another sip of blood.

“Cardinal,” you began once you took another sip of wine, “why have you not told the Sister the truth about my halo? Why have you stopped the second ritual?”

The Cardinal sighed and sat down opposite you. “So many questions.”

“I would appreciate an answer.”

“You ask one, I ask one. Deal?”

You nodded. “Why have you not told the Sister the truth?”

“At first it was because of… because I was drunk. But then, I just didn’t want to.” He took a sip of blood. “Why haven’t you escaped yet?”

“At the outset, it was by reason of my frailty. But at present… I find myself in doubt. Pray tell, why did you halt the second ritual?”

“As an apology for my actions.” He refused to make eye contact with you. “I violated you once… the second ritual meant I’d have to do it again.”

You knew that, of course, but hearing him admit to it was something else. “What course of action do you intend to pursue?”

“No, it’s my turn to ask you a question. What’s Yhwh’s plan?”

As far as you knew, even angels were in the dark about Yhwh’s plan. You had been raised to believe that everything takes place in accordance with God’s divine plan and to put your trust in His wisdom and guidance. But recent occurrences had called into question this belief.

You have seen the pain and injustice done to His children, the cruelty and deceit committed in His name. It caused you to wonder if God really did have a plan or if He has just let His creations go free, to be determined by human foolishness and the randomness of luck.

You could only speculate as to the details of His plan. Maybe it was putting His children to the test in terms of their faith and courage, challenging them to overcome hardship and grow stronger as a result. Or perhaps it was about pointing them in the direction of righteousness and enlightenment by imparting to them the true meaning of forgiveness and compassion.

You’d not seen much of that forgiveness and compassion. You wondered if it was even there at all.

You cleared your throat. “If I were privy to such knowledge, I would readily disclose it. Alas, it escapes me, for I am not allowed such insight. Only the Ophanims and beings of higher echelons hold such secrets. What about the second ritual - what does it include?”

The Cardinal nodded in understanding, then spoke. “We have to tempt you with the thing you really wanted; we have to make you need it, crave it… do anything for it. We know what you want, we were going to make you beg for it.”

You paused, considering asking a follow up question but remembering he wouldn’t let you.

“Tell me about the angels. This hierarchy you mentioned… what are you?”

“There are 9 levels of divine power, and I am on the ninth level. I am just a regular angel, there is nothing special about me. The closest to the Almighty are the Seraphims, followed by Cherubims, Ophanims, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels… then me.” You let your information soak in before you took another sip of your wine, you could feel the lightheadedness really begin to take effect now. Your entire body felt warm, relaxed, almost limp. It was a fight to stay upright. “What happens when the Sister finds out that you are lying to her?”

“I don’t know exactly - I just know it’s not gonna be good.” The Cardinal’s words were beginning to slur, the effects of your blood clearly taking hold of him as the wine had taken you. “I’d be forced to step down as head of the Church probably, and she’d take control of your interrogation. And she has so many plans for you. She’d be so much worse than me.”

That you didn’t doubt. In such a short time, and with little interactions, you had a feeling she’d take joy in destroying you. And suddenly, you found yourself grateful for the Cardinal.

“I can’t stop thinking about the other day,” the Cardinal began, looking at you directly in your eyes, “what I did to you when I had control of your halo. I know Celestial beings are supposed to be pure, but did you know what I was doing?”

“I knew that it was sexual.” You replied, honestly. “And I saw that you liked it. Why did you stop?”

“Because you didn’t consent. Did you want me to stop?”

You nodded a little. “Then, I did. But now…”

The Cardinal let out a short exhale, “You’re unsure.” He finished his glass and poured you both another. At this point in the night, it was your third glass each.

“Why did you feel the need to exert control over me in that way?” You asked, taking another sip. “Was it just a display of power, or was there something else driving your actions?”

“Something else. I wasn’t in control of myself. My body did what it wanted. And the sight of you, on your knees, eyes wide and unsure. I wanted to make you cry. I wanted to feel you from the inside out.”

The Cardinal’s words were having an effect on you, more than you ever knew could be possible. A weird feeling swept through you as the Cardinal’s words passed over you. It was a stirring of something deeper within you, not fear or disgust as one might expect. There was an irresistible charm to his candour, a rawness that appealed to the primitive urges hidden deep within your celestial essence, even though his confession was unsettling.

You were drawn to his vulnerability in sharing such personal thoughts with you and enthralled by the intensity of his desires. It was as though a curtain had been drawn back to show you a side of the Cardinal you had only ever seen during the shadow of secrecy and darkness. It was odd, but you found yourself drawn to it, drawn to him, in a way that excited and scared you at the same time.

Something inside you sparked at the Cardinal’s admission, an innate desire that throbbed beneath the surface of your celestial body. Something pulled at the very fabric of your being, a sensation unlike anything you had ever felt before—a blending of curiosity and desire. And as you locked eyes with him, there was a silent understanding that grew between you, an acceptance of the unspoken truths that united you in ways you could not have fully imagined.

If he did the same thing to you now - you weren’t confident you’d push him away.

The Cardinal studied you intently, his eyes following the minute changes that danced over your heavenly body. Your essence seemed to pulse with a newfound intensity that reflected his own desires, and he could feel the shift in your energy. You had a hunger in your eyes, a primal longing that expressed so much without saying a word.

The Cardinal felt a rush of excitement and anticipation as soon as he realised that you were sincere about your feelings. It set his senses alight and made his pulse race. He was drawn into the depths of a connection that felt both forbidden and irresistible by the flicker of desire dancing in your eyes. It was a silent invitation that beckoned him closer.

He stood and walked over to you, that same predatory look in his eye that this time, you welcomed. You were going to blame it on the alcohol, but perhaps that would be your first lie.

“Do you like the thought of that, Angel?” He teased, approaching you slowly as if you would run from him at the slightest movement.

You found yourself nodding, unable to stop yourself before you realised the implications of what you’d just confirmed. He stood in front of you, reaching his gloved hand to place it on your chin and allow the leather atop his thumb to graze over your lips a second time.

You swallowed, “Wh-why are you turning m-me into a demon?” You asked, breathlessly, still trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the alcohol running through your veins, and the heat pooling between your legs.

“Because we thought it would make you easier to control.” The Cardinal whispered, dropping his face close to yours. “We didn’t know how to bend you to our will using your halo, so we wanted to drag you to Hell with us. How old are you, Angel?”

“Older than matter.”

“And you’ve been so deprived for so long? Sweet angel, no wonder you’re the way that you are.” His face was now mere centimetres from yours, you could feel his breath fanning above your top lip as he spoke. “You’ve already committed the worst sin imaginable for an angel, haven’t you? Questioning him and being shunned for it.” He put his gloved hands on yours and pulled you off the chair, raising your left one to his lips. “One more sin couldn’t hurt, could it?”

His lips trailed up your arm and ended their journey at the crook of your neck, where he licked and kissed at the sensitive skin. The heat between your legs became unbearable, as your fingertips clutched onto his arms. Your body was fighting against itself, your arms pushing him away, but fingers pulling him towards you. You sighed at the newfound sensitivity, now realising how incredible it felt to have someone there, lavishing you with gentle touches and sin.

This was a sin. You should fight against it, and fight harder.

“It is God’s will that I should be sanctified,” you muttered, breathlessly, recalling the words of the Almighty that you’d remembered, “that I should avoid immorality; that I should learn to control mine own body in a way that is holy and honorable, not in passionate lust like the pagans, who do not know God.”

You felt Copia smile into your neck, his ministrations stopping temporarily. “Matthew 26:41: ‘Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’” You felt the Cardinal’s hands move to your waist and pull you flush against his hard body, something particularly hard poking out from beneath his cassock and hitting against your hip. “All flesh is weak, Angel. Even yours. Can you do it, I wonder? Can you resist me despite your body calling for me?”

You lifted your hand to his hair and tugged it, pulling his head away from you. You looked into his eyes, dark and lustful as they bore into your soul, reading you like an open book so willing to be read. Your mind was screaming at you, yelling at you to push him away. But your hands, of their own free will, grasped onto his neck and pulled him towards you, your lips crashing onto his with such force, it almost hurt.

His tongue entered your mouth desperately, leading the kiss despite you initiating it. It was your first, and it had taken your breath away whilst heightening all your other senses. You could feel the way his moustache tickled your upper lip, the ferociousness of his tongue sliding against yours as he gave himself over to the pleasure with no resistence. His gloved hands tightened on your waist, and pushed you against the table, forcing you to sit on top of it and spread your legs, inviting him between them.

That tongue tasted like your blood, and you should feel repulsed by the monster who took what he wanted from your body, now in more ways than one. But the iron tang of your blood on him excited and thrilled you in a way it shouldn’t - in a way that would have you cast into the Abyss with no one looking back.

Your nipples hardened beneath your white robe, and wetness seeped out from between your thighs. Your heart was rushing a million miles per minute, and your lungs could barely keep up. And all the while, the Cardinal’s hands roamed over your body, travelling, gripping, groping, and pulling at your flesh.

He could feel your nipples poking through your robes, the way your hips unknowingly bucked against his hardness, begging for him to ravage you right there. Whimpers had begun to fall from your lips as you lost yourself into the warmth of his body, allowing his own to swallow them and feed him, fuel his desires to have you.

You moaned deliciously when his gloved hand rested on your thigh, pulling the white fabric up to expose your skin, and you truly sounded heavenly when the same thumb that had been in your mouth weeks before, and traced over your lips today, made contact with a sensitive bundle of nerves and you gasped, breaking the kiss and looking into his lustful eyes.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, his voice gravelly and quiet. You shook your head and it earned a chuckle. “So innocent.” His voice was gentle, filled with a condescension that made your stomach flip. “So neglected. Given a body and not shown how to use it. This is called a clitoris.” He kissed you again and put more pressure on your clit, making you moan a little louder. “When I play with it, I can make you sing. I can make you reach a place more divine than Heaven. Does it feel good, Angel?”

“Yes!” You hissed, your eyebrows furrowing upwards and your mouth falling open. Your nostrils flared as your body tried to take in as much oxygen as it could, especially when the Cardinal picked up the pace and continued to rub circles into your flesh.

“You never touched yourself, have you?” He asked. He knew the answer, so he didn’t expect you to respond. “You should. The beauty of this form is that you can give yourself pleasure whenever you want.” He nibbled at your jaw. “However you want.” Your body tensed. “Virgins are so easy to please. So quick to cum.”

Your toes curled, your back arched, your voice screamed out as your nails dug into the thick fabric of his clothes. His fingers kept working the surface, never dipping inside or changing their speed.

“Can you feel it, Angel?” He asked, licking over your top lip. “The pressure building inside you? Feeling like you’re about to burst open?”

“Y-yes!” Your moans were wanton now, unabashed. You didn’t even think to be quiet, this felt too good to think of anything else.

“When you’re ready, let it happen. Let yourself feel it. Let yourself explode.”

“It’s too m-much!” You cried out, hips bucking of their own accord into the Cardinal’s hand.

“Aw,” he feigned sympathy, “I know, baby. Your first orgasm. Don’t look away from me. Look into my eyes when it happens, okay?”

“Okay-ah!”

It didn’t take much more until your whole body spasmed. You didn’t know what the sensation was, and there was a little fear in your eyes as it first began to take hold of you, freezing your body down to your breath and holding you there. The sensitivity on your clit spread everywhere, to your toes, up to your brain. You could practically taste it on your tongue. All the while, you continued to look into your tormentor’s eyes, mouth agape and lungs fighting for air that left your body long ago.

The Cardinal stared at you the whole time, eyes pinned on your face and studying your reaction to your first orgasm, taking untold pleasures from it.

“How was that?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“G-good.” You replied, breathlessly, eyes closing over.

The Cardinal laughed, something small and new. “Don’t rest on me, yet.” You watched him fumble at his crotch and pull himself out from between the buttons of his cassock, but you didn’t get the chance to see… him.

You felt him rub against your folds, the tip stroking against your clit as he rocked back and forth. Both of you hissed at the contact, for you because of your sensitivity, and for him because he was finally getting some pleasure. He was thick, and heavy, and slid against your folds so well you had to grip onto the desk just because your hands needed something to hold.

Every now and then, you could feel the tip at your entrance where he’d pulled back a little too far, and the first time he did it your eyes shot open in panic. “Not in - ah! - not inside! Please! He’ll s-see.”

The Cardinal groaned, pushing forward involuntarily and sighing at the feeling of your wetness coating him. “I won’t.” He reassured you. “I want to, though.”

“You can’t!”

“I know. You th-think he’s watching, Angel?” The Cardinal chuckled as he picked up the pace. “You think your god is watching one of his angels get - fuck! - ruined by a son of Satan?”

You felt your hole clench around nothing. You shouldn’t - but you did.

“Good,” the Cardinal continued, holding onto your hips to help him use you, “let him see. I want him to see what happens when he neglects his creations. When his creations discover themselves. Fuck, you’re so wet!”

Your back arched further, pressing your hips against him more firmly. You leaned back, allowing your shoulders to hit the wall behind you and rest against the brick, as much as your tied wings would allow anyway. He watched your body jiggling as he rubbed against it, wondering how much more you’d do so when he was thrusting in and out of your virgin hole. He thought about how tight you’d be. He knew a virgin being tight was nothing more than misogynistic propaganda, but he couldn’t help but think about it. He watched your tits bounce with each thrust, and stared at the way your nipples continued to poke through the fabric, begging to be teased and bitten.

“Pinch your nipples.” He ordered.

You moved your hands up to where he wanted them and began to rub over the peaks, pinching them between your thumbs and forefingers and moaning loudly at the sensation - feeling your hole clench around nothing again. Everything he was doing to you, everything he got you to do to yourself, felt exquisite. You understood, now, why you’d watch entire civilisations descend into madness and violence just to feel the warmth of another body in the victorious afterglow. You understood why this would be a celebratory act because you felt nothing but pleasure - a high you’d never experienced before, not even up in Heaven serving the almighty.

The thought should scare you. The fact that you were turning to sin, and had done so so easily should have terrified you beyond belief. But you pinched your nipples harder, crying out as the Cardinal’s cock grazed over your clit for the millionth time, about to reach your second orgasm of the night.

The second one was just as powerful as the first, so earth-shatteringly good your toes curled again and you bit your lip so hard, you could taste your own blood. Your whole body tingled under your touch and his, barely registering his groan before you felt something wet on your pubic mound and dripping down your labia onto the table below you. You sat up and looked, finally seeing him in his entirety. The Cardinal had orgasmed, too, except his was much messier. Your body and his was covered in the whiteness that had spewed from him, and while you didn’t know the name, you knew that it was needed to bring life into the world.

The Cardinal was red-faced and panting from the exertion, as were you. Both of you spent and clear headed.

Clear headed.

Your mind began racing, thinking about what you’d just done. When the passion faded, a flood of contradictory thoughts and emotions swept over you along with a wave of clarity. You noticed the Cardinal’s laboured breathing and his conflicted expression of vulnerability and satisfaction. You realised that what you had just shared was more than just physical pleasure; it was an intimate moment between two creatures who had previously been bound by circumstance and desire.

But as the reality of the situation settled in, so did the weight of guilt and uncertainty. You couldn’t ignore the implications of what had transpired in the wine cellar. Despite the intense connection you had felt in the heat of the moment, you knew deep down that this was not how things were meant to be. You were an angel, a child of the Almighty and a being of righteousness, and he was a vampyre—a man of the cloth, sworn to uphold the debauchery of his Satan’s might.

As soon as the Cardinal’s eyes met yours, you could see the same turmoil in them. He was obviously thinking about the consequences of what you had done. Now that the lines between you had been crossed, you had to deal with the fallout.

When you looked at the potential repercussions of your sin, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret. How would this affect your relationship with him, which was already tense? What about the Sister, who would be furious after learning everything the Cardinal had revealed to you?

What about your God? How disappointed He’d be if He saw you now, nothing more than a whore for the Devil? Giving yourself so willingly to him despite all of the Almighty’s teachings… letting Lucifer into your heart when you should have cast him out.

But in the middle of all of this chaos, there was also a moment of brief relief from the bonds that had held you captive for so long. For a split second, you had given in to lust and accepted the forbidden fruit of passion.

The Cardinal grabbed a serviette from one of the shelves and cleaned you both up, before straightening himself out again. He watched you, saw your demeanour shift back to the wariness you used to have when he first let you out of the cage. You couldn’t ascertain his thoughts, but he knew you were absolutely regretting what had just transpired between you.

One thing became obvious as you sat there, trying to make sense of the tangled mess of emotions whirling inside of you: the relationship between you and the Cardinal would never be the same. The friendship that had been formed in the wine cellar had changed your lives forever, for better or worse. You had no choice but to wait and see where fate would lead you as you faced the uncertain future that lay ahead.

That morning, as you both made your way into his chamber and he’d removed the restraints from your wings, you willingly crawled into your cage, curled up, and hid yourself from his view. You didn’t get much sleep that day.

Prev./Next

[blissfulip]

Dopamine

on AO3

Viktor x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, dubious science, mostly canon compliant, no use of y/n, chemist!reader, eventual smut, masturbation

Cw: Allusion to sexual themes, just general bickering on this one

Words: 1.8k

[A/N: I know this one took forever, sorry about that lmao, tags and content warnings to be updated in each chapter, updates weekly(ish). (also, let me know if you want to be tagged in fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr

Previous Next

Chapter 5: Rise to the occasion

“Wait,Viktor—” You said, trying to catch up to him since he stormed out of the Hextech lab, “We can’t just walk back in there together as if nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“I’m talking about us doing something well-nigh against academy rules; they will ask questions.”

“Oh, eh—you go in first."

The opportunity to counter was stolen from you and substituted by the cold touch of Viktor’s hands upon your back, jostling your body effortlessly through the library door. He came in behind you shortly after, and you thought the interval in between both of you walking in was not long enough to make a dent in the opinion of everyone watching.

“The interval in between both of us walking in was not long enough to make a dent in the opinion of everyone watching.”

“No one gives a hoot about where we might have gone; stop concerning yourself with their opinion."

It was virtually an ambuscade. When you sat back right where your book had been left and Viktor was on the chair opposite you, a friend and a foe together in liue of curiosity came without a warning and joined you. Asher seemed increasingly more annoyed than Lara, whom you suspected was simply thirsty for some quality gossip.

“So… you snuck out together, where to?” She asked with a shit-eating grin creeping up across her face.

“The dorms.” You astonishingly managed to answer in unison.

“Whose?” Asher shot at you immediately after, not leaving any time for thinking.

“Listen you—” Viktor started, and you were sure his intentions were going to take him somewhere he’d regret, so you interjected.

“We just needed to get some of our work instruments; it's not a big deal,” you said awkwardly.

“I thought your dorm was on the west wing; why did you go together?” Lara questioned you (and correctly, alas).

“You know what they say: ‘you shouldn’t count your birds before you hit them with a stone’.” You said, in the most deadpan way you could find in you.

“She needed help choosing which one of the books would be better for the presentation she is planning, and I needed help carrying some of the heavier volumes. We…killed two birds with one stone.” He said, entirely unconvinced but long resigned.

“Right, and you accepted his help with your work?” Said Asher with a cynical eyebrow raise.

“Well, the arrogance, fear of public speaking, long-term sickly obsession with work, and his careless neglect of social cues make up for an almost tolerable knowledge of many useful subjects.”

Viktor looked at you with knitted brows, his mouth agape, as if he at some point had the intention of saying something but gave up on it as the hint of faint praise in your statement made him befuddled enough to not know what to say.

“Uh, fine, just let us know you’ll be out next time; we have to make the week one report for Heimerdinger, and you two were nowhere to be found for like an hour."

“We could’ve been here earlier, but as you are both aware, she is chronologically challenged.”

"Wha—we were running against the clock because someone had to stop by the restroom on our way back.” You said, the pitch of your voice was getting higher as the irritation grew.

“I wonder why.”

“I know why, and I don’t particularly understand why you are saying it like it was my fault.”

By that point, both Asher and Lara, after sharing a look of reproach with each other, had quietly stood up and gone back to their respective work tables, leaving the two of you to quarrel in private.

“I’m sure in hindsight you can see clearly that dragging me into a small closet was regrettably ill-advised; you have such a talent for slip-ups that one could almost think you do it on purpose.”

“You think I wanted you to rise to the occasion, on purpose?” You said in a slightly mocking tone.

“You are certainly taking the opportunity to rag on me because of it.”

“If I wanted to make fun of you for that, I would've done it on the way here, Viktor, and just so you know, if I wanted to be the cause of your late-afternoon wood, a cleaning closet wouldn’t be my choice of scenery.”

“Stop calling it those names; it’s horrid—in fact, just quit talking about it; it’s giving me a tension headache."

"Oh, I apologize. Am I being too silly about the thing that you just reminded me about? I’ll make sure to talk about you b-o-n-e-r more solemnly in the future."

“I’m sorry if I thought you’d be able to take things seriously; that wasn’t my intention.”

“I am. I can take things so seriously that I will go back to my work over there, where I don’t have to hear you sniffle every two seconds, the heel of your shoe clanking on the floor, and your pen clicking repeatedly.” You said with a sour expression as you removed his journals from your bag and walked over to the other side of the library.

“Choice of scenery; who does she think she is?" Viktor mumbled quietly to himself before noticing the unintentional clicking of his pen and quietly putting it down on the table with an almost imperceptible pout.

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

Both the second and third meetings, as well as the halfway report with Heimerdinger, went sufficiently well, with your own presentation already in the final stages. It had been a particularly lazy morning; your eyes had nearly not opened, pushed closed by the heavy lids of a sleepless night, and the burgeoning symptoms of what you suspected could turn into the flu, when you decided to skip the last meeting and give your speech the finishing touches in the comfort of your own bed.

Since everything had been finished and you figured everyone would assume you were sick or had other commitments, you didn't tell anybody, hoping your absence would be disregarded. You soon learned that was a misjudgment on your part when you heard someone knock on the door to your dorm room well into the afternoon.

 “I can’t believe you got sick too!” Lara said as soon as you cracked the door open.

“Too?”

“Cirian is terribly sick as well; there must be some sort of epidemic!”

“I’m sorry… who?” 

“Cirian, from Biology.” She said, absentmindedly, as she scrambled in the kitchen for something, “Where do you keep your mugs? I’ll brew you some tea.”

"Ah, yes, top left.” So that’s his name. “I’m quite alright, though; I just needed some rest.”

“That’s good to hear because Heimerdinger said you and Viktor would have to fill in for him.”

“You have to be kidding me.” You said throwing your body back on your bed dramatically.

“I thought you’d be ecstatic,” she said as she came back with two mugs and a puzzled expression, to which you responded with one to match. "Well, you’d have an excuse to spend more time with him.”

“And why on Heimerdinger’s fluffy mustache would I want that?”

"Well, you two are dating, no?”

"No, we’re fucking not. Where did you get that idea?”

“You’re pulling my leg now, come on." She said with a small chuckle, and when you did not laugh but looked at her with concern, she continued. “Well… He seemed to be quite into you that day you were at my place, and you were very flirty.”

“I was drunk!” You said trying to defend yourself and trying to ignore what she had said about him being into you; it wasn’t a thought you wanted to consider at that moment.

“Fair, but then, I thought all that banter you two have was just playful bickering.”

“It’s most certainly not; I despise him, and he hates me with a passion.”

“With a passion, alright.” She said with a cheeky smirk that she tried to hide by taking a sip of the tea.

“What do you know that I don’t?”

“I know something that neither of you do, apparently. But I  digress." She said, gulping the last bit of tea and leaving the mug on the sink before turning back to you. “I’d go talk to Heimerdinger before he leaves for the day, if I were you."

She left shortly after, leaving you to ruminate about more than one of the things that were said.  She couldn’t possibly be making any sense, could she? Perhaps you should have asked what she meant by Viktor being ‘into you’ that night, but then again, you had noticed a slight change in his physiognomy.

You weren’t as drunk as you claimed to be, and it was this small change—the blush all over his face when he saw you—that made you look at him through your eyelashes so suggestively. It was the small gasp hitched on his throat that made you swing your hips when you walked slowly to where he stood. It was his white knuckles and his fingers clasped together in a tight fist around his vest that made you lower your voice into a purr when you said his name. You wanted to provoke him; his reaction was so akin to one of fury that you relished the possibility of making him hate you more.

There was no reason to bend over the table to write, not in the way you did, at least. You just wanted to, although you still tried to convince yourself that it had the same motivations as everything else you had done that night.

If you didn't know of further proof that backed up Lara's theory (which she herself was unaware of), it would have been reasonable to conclude that she had made an unfortunate misinterpretation of the situation. You caught yourself grinning at the memory of it—how you had been enjoying the scent of Viktor’s perfume and the feeling of his chest pressing against you—even before you noticed what the proximity of your bodies was doing to him.

Raise to the occasion was such a good one; he really can’t appreciate a good joke.

”B-o-n-e-r” You spelled it out loud to yourself with a hearty chuckle.

And even after you did notice it, a smug little voice in your head was telling you to lean closer, to see how far you could take it before he either said something unspeakably rude to you or took it the opposite way, but you had to be circumspect. You were the picture of practicality, yet he still had the gall to get angry at you. 

My fault…ha. If I had been doing it on purpose, that closet would’ve become too small for what he’d want to do with—

You had to physically shake that thought away and remind yourself that regardless of how fun it was to mess with him, Viktor was still incredibly insufferable to work in the same vicinity as, let alone with, so it’d be better to talk to Heimerdinger and get this whole debacle sorted out.

You did, however, spend the entirety of the way there thinking about the scent of saffron and leather.

[timperi-fan]

If Timmy has no powers and will not be getting powers then what kind of hero would he be? Where would he get the cash for all this?

Timmy fights with gadgets and his own strength, but his main weapon is his hammer. He calls it the White Wand (he's a big fan of alliteration), it is stark white and bigger than Timmy is! You do not want to be on the business end of that thing.

Timmy gets gadgets (like a hoverboard, shock absorbing boots, lightweight armor, gauntlets that give him enhanced strength and a better grip for swinging around that big fuck-off hammer) by stealing from AJ's lab. The only thing that he doesn't steal is the white cloak that he wears.

Ok how old is Peri and Timmy in this fic?

Timmy is 22 and Peri is 16. He turns 17 fairly early on in the story. Wanda didn't want him fighting at such a young age, but Peri couldn't sit still, and Cosmo convinced her that they started young, and at least they're there to support Peri.

Plus, it's not like there's any super villains in Dimmsdale!

How long has Sidhe been the hero of Dimmsdale? Did he use to be the sidekick for Law and Order aka his cousin/uncle Jorgen?

Ooh, good superhero name for Jorgen. I'm gonna yoink that 👀

Peri has been an active hero since he was fourteen. Wanda made him start small and would shadow him at first. But Peri is very adverse to being "babied," and he quickly proved his abilities so Wanda doesn't fret over him too much anymore.

Plus, it's not like there's any super villains in Dimmsdale! Haha. :)

With or without powers would Jorgen, Cosmo, and Wanda have taught both boys how to fight?

Timmy has been taught basic self-defense but has never been in a high stress situation, which is why he freezes.

But yes, both boys were taught to fight.

Speaking of why does Timmy decide to go hero?

Guess you'll have to wait for the next chapter :)

How different is Peri’s look from Sidhe?

Peri has dirty blond curls and green eyes. Sídhe has purple swirly hair (MUCH more pronounced on the swirls) and purple irises that surround golden pupils. His eyes glow. He looks very different from his civilian self.

Now that both boys are grown will Wanda and Cosmo come out of retirement?

No, they like being retired. Plus they're a little old now for fighting every night. Cosmo had Peri in his early forties, so he and Wanda are in their late fifties.

Will Hazel and the rest of the new Wish crew be in the story?

I don't plan on it, no. If I did implement them, though, here's how:

Cosmo and Wanda would start fostering again now that Peri has moved out. Hazel is their foster kid and she pretty quickly clocks that they're not entirely normal humans. Cosmo and Wanda would use magic around her but absolutely NOT let her fight, haha.

Dev would notice Peri's unusual behavior and figure out his secret identity. Using that as blackmail, he would force Peri to take him under his wing as a sidekick/apprentice. Peri doesn't enjoy it AT ALL, but his hands are tied.

Thanks for the questions!

[veryace-ficrecs]

could you do some heart pirate centric fics?

of course!! []~(￣▽￣)~*

Heart Pirates Centric Fic Recs

it takes every organ by Anonymous - Rated T

It really is hilarious that any pirate crew would use a submarine, rather than a ship. Who would want to go down, instead of having room to go up? Who would rather be below water, with nowhere to stretch one's wings, than be close to the skies? Law thinks about the twines of thorns on his back, the scaled feathers on Penguin's and Shachi's. None of them can even fly anyway, so fuck it. If they can't go up, they'll just go down instead. (Or: Law, the flightless pirate captain of a flightless pirate crew in a world where most everybody has wings, through the eyes of all those who matter.)

Reliving a Nightmare by PumpkinPieTimb - Rated T

Grand Line is where the infamous Devil Fruits come from. Fruits that can grant its eater a unique ability that can either be so stupid it would make you question why it even exists, or so overpowered that you'd think the user is a god. Speaking of Devil Fruit users with overpowered abilities, did you know that some can alter time? Or, in this case, a person's age? Because Penguin sure as hell didn't. It was wild, like any other thing in the Grand Line. It was unpredictable. Unknown. Unheard of. Hence, the lack of proper response. "This can't be happening," Shachi muttered in disbelief beside him. "This-- this is a dream. I'm dreaming, right? Someone pinch me-- fuck, punch me." He laughed hysterically.

Bioluminescent Hearts by Harmonica_Smile (Rescue_Remedy) - Rated T

"No bodies?" Blackbeard fumed. Doc Q and Stronger had bounced across rocky Winner Island when that bear had gone all Sulong and knocked them out. Van Augur's range for warping wasn't that great, and was tricky over open water. He could sharpshoot the skin of a hangnail, but the bear was fast. If he'd managed to get a shot in, they could've finished the Mink off, and pulled the shitty doctor from the water, taken his heart and returned triumphant. Once the horse had woken up. *contains spoilers for chapter 1081*

Visiting Home by Nehszriah - Rated M

Law wants to go back to Flevance to run some tests on the remaining Amber Lead, though the excursion turns into another sort of thing entirely.

on grandma's baking and also grand larceny by Chockyyyy - Rated T

Law always felt most in control standing at the head of a table, a map sprawled before him to guide each person into their place. He thrived on well-oiled machines and plans that ran bump-free. These kinds of things were good stress relievers for him and carrying them out was a good stress reliever for his crew. Simple logic. Thus: here he was. “The information we need is held inside a trapped and guarded office, but there's a massive banquet occurring that night that will give us a better shot with the lowered security. Several of you will be infiltrating the party, keeping an ear out, and if needed, providing distractions. What we’re after is classified to hell and back; as long as we get out, there's no way those nobles will admit it was stolen if that means they had it in the first place.” “Dibs on the dress!” Shachi called in the silence after Law’s spiel.

Forty-Two Superior Teeth by Harmonica_Smile (Rescue_Remedy) - Rated T

Law, Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin: Kids growing into their dreams on Swallow Island.

echo by MuffinsInSummer - Rated G

the clock strikes midnight - it's October 7th, Law is drunk, he doesn't plan on celebrating his birthday until he sees the treasure chest that has the fruit he's been searching for so long. The Nagi Nagi no Mi. "Hey sorry it took so long. Just in time too." "This is..." (or in which I forget Law's birthday minutes after it hits midnight AGAIN in my country and I write this to make up for it. Sorry Law.)

[natashaslesbian]

I know this is kinda depressing but we had to have my childhood dog put down a while back I was wondering if you could do a Scarlett x daughter reader oneshot where we are like 14/15 and our childhood dog is dying and we refuse to leave her side and she ends up passing while we are holding her and our mom comforts us while we cry/sob

Angel Wings

Word Count: 819

A/N• this is a little shorter than I was planning but I’m ngl this one was tough to write. Anon I hope you like this little fic and I’d like to dedicate it to your dog❤️

————

You curled up in the most secluded corner of your house, Bella, your dog, cuddled up closely with you. Bella was your best friend, your mom had got a puppy a few months before you were born and growing up, you and Bella were inseparable. You were 14 now and so was your dog, it was clear over the last few months that Bella was getting sick, but you refused to believe it. “Y/n the cars ready” Scarlett sadly called out into the house, your mom loved Bella too and seeing her in pain was tough. She knew there was nothing that she could do so Scarlett made the decision to have her put down. It wasn’t an easy choice and you had been begging your mom not to go through with it. That’s why, when Scarlett went out to start the car, you hauled Bella up into your arms and made your way through the house to hide with her.

Bella was whining softly as you held her, your tears wetting her fur. “Y/n where are you?” Scarlett asked. You weren’t ready to say goodbye yet, Bella had been by your side your entire life and it was unimaginable what the days would look like without her. You shuffled around slightly, causing your dog to cry out in pain “I’m sorry Bella, shhh, you’re okay, please just be okay” you cried. “Y/n” your mom said as she leaned around the staircase, startling you slightly. “We need to go baby girl” Scarlett said sadly. “Please no mom” you sobbed “please don’t do this, she might be okay again a few days” you begged. Scarlett let her own tears fall as she crawled along the floor to sit beside you and Bella “she’s dying baby, there’s nothing we can do. She’s not gonna get better” your mom said.

Scarlett reached out to gently wipe away your tears “I’m sorry honey” she said. “I don’t want her to go” you sobbed, pulling Bella closer towards your chest. “I know, I don’t either, but she’s in pain sweetie. We have to let her go” Scarlett cried, softly brushing through Bella’s coat. “I can’t loose her” you whispered “you’ll never loose her baby, not really” Scarlett said. “She may not be here with us, in our house and out in the garden. But she’ll always be here” your mom said as she laid her hand across your chest. You looked down at Bella with teary eyes, you knew deep down that your mom was right but knowing that Bella wouldn’t be there to cuddle with and when you were sad and needed cheering up, it was the hardest thing you had ever faced.

Bella whined again as her breathing hitched, Scarlett lent down to watch the rise of her chest, seeing it start to gently slow. The blonde cried quietly, realising the time was coming sooner than anyone had expected. “Mom?” You questioned seeing her cry. Scarlett took hold of your hand and you both gently rested your palms over Bella’s chest. “No please” you cried. “We love you so much Baby Bell” your mom cried. Bella slowly lifted her head, bumping her nose into Scarlett’s fist. She then turned her attention to you, looking up at your tear stained face. “I love you Bella, my best friend forever” you said as Bella weakly licked at your face, kissing you one last time. You and your mom watched as Bella laid her head back against your leg, letting out soft whines and she began to struggle with her breath.

The air became cold and the silence was deafening. Slowly, Bella’s body became limp, the rise and fall of her chest coming to a stop. Scarlett lent her forehead against Bella’s still frame and you cried out in pain, “No” you sobbed. Your mom sat up and pulled you closer to her body “it’s okay, she’s okay now” she said as she held your sobbing body in her arms. Scarlett held you close as you cried out in heartbreak, gently brushing through your hair to try and soothe you and herself. When you calmed slightly, your mom moved you so that you were facing her. “Why don’t we take Bella upstairs and into bed, we can sit with her for a while yeah?” She asked. “Okay” you whispered.

You prepared Scarlett’s bed with the fluffiest blankets and plushest of pillows while your mom gently carried Bella upstairs to her bedroom. You sat patiently as Scarlett carefully placed Bella into your awaiting arms. “There we go, she can sleep comfortably now” your mom muttered through her tears. You and Scarlett sat silently in bed with Bella, brushing her fluffy fur and kissing her nose. You cried into each others shoulders wishing you could’ve had her longer in this lifetime but hoping and praying that maybe one day you would see her again in another lifetime.

————

Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

[good--merits-accumulated]

I wanted to open this with the joke "long time listener, first time caller" but I'm still yet to complete your collection of fics (which I will do, mark my words), but I cannot resist the opportunity to pick your brains about writing. With that, 11 & 15 for Hymnal and 3 & 4 for Christmas in the room. Plus, if I may be so bold, I'm curious about your process - how to you go about planning? Do you tend to write several drafts or is it more a situation of "getting in the zone" and writing in one sitting?

Hehehehehe thank you for the ask, Vine!! Pick away.

11 for Hymnal: What do you like best about this fic?

The description! The poetry! I'm feeling this very keenly right now as I'm writing a contemporary AU without much description, but Hymnal really let me stretch out my native writing wings, i.e. just blocks and blocks of adjectives. If I could, all of my fics would just be thousands of words describing everyone's outfits all the time. And the poetry is still some of the only poetry I've ever written which I still like! So there's that. :D

15 for Hymnal: What did you learn from writing this fic?

Oh, God. Pacing! I really learnt the value of slowing things down. Not quite in time to finish Hymnal, mind; I still think it doesn't read as smoothly as it could and jerks along in places. But hopefully I'm applying the lessons I've learnt about placing in current projects. Hymnal also taught me to be less shy about experimenting with form: the epistolary, yes, but also that one scene written entirely in dialogue. It was so intensely fun and fitting for the mood that I've been going back to it ever since, and other current WIPs (the Secret Life of Walter Mitty AU!) are skipping around from prose to epistolary to playscript. 3 for christmas in the room: What's your favourite line of narration?

Hm. Probably this from the first one:

In any case the light was warm and a little dim and usually it softened the features of whoever walked in, made them friendlier and more beautiful, but clearly something had gone wrong with it this time because Charlie flinched and dropped the peas as soon as he walked in. The trouble with his face was that everything was writ large upon it. The shock and the horror and quickly settling in the confusion, easy to read like a children’s book, A is for Apple is for Anger is for Aw, hell, there goes a jacket I’m never getting back again…

It just reads nicely! My goal for writing is always to have something that sounds good read aloud.

4 for christmas in the room: What's your favourite line of dialogue?

This was HARD, because my goal for the dialogue in this fic was to make it all innocuous and kind of inordinary. Nevertheless I think it's probably:

“Oh, it was nobody,” said Neil, looking up. He smiled, a quick roguish flashing smile which did not for a single second assure Todd of its authenticity. “Nobody. Nothing. Mom’s in the hospital. Like I said – ”

“Neil,” he said, and within two seconds was at his side. 

Neil dropped his face into his hands and ground out, “Like I said, nothing.”

Again, this is about the rhythm of it - I just think it reads well.

RE: your final question, I actually almost never write a second draft! The fic you see on the webpage is almost always the exact same fic which I first set to virtual paper in Google Docs, with the exception of some spelling corrections/rephrasing of a sentence/replacing repeated words/etc. I don't really tend to make other drafts. (Actually, the Martian AU is really weird in this respect because I'm working from a second draft now, the first one being.... how do you say...... dogshit.) But "getting in the zone" isn't really what happens either, since I find that hard to make happen. Unfortunately, it's very prosaic and businesslike and not at all Romantic, capital R: I carve out some time, sit down at my laptop, make myself type out a couple of sentences and then wait for the moment when my fingers start flying. And then it's just a matter of seeing where the story wants to go 😅. Most of the planning happens beforehand, usually in the shower or in bed before I sleep; but then it's still very, very barebones. Usually the story does its own thing and I find myself developing character arcs and motifs around the scaffolding as I go, and then I'll go back and fiddle around in the rest of it until it looks intentional.

... I'm not sure if that helped. LMK if you have any other questions.

[definitelynotshouting]

re: that last ask i LOVED seeing grian saying “do you have to?” and mumbo answering “actually, yeah, kinda” bc it’s so innocuous unless you know what he’s planning AND how little grian’s been reaching out. plus it touches on that thing you’ve mentioned before of like. this is a bad situation for everyone, nobody is trained for this and nobody is operating at 100% capacity rn.

also not to be all pepe silvia but mumbo’s willful ignorance thing kinda reminds me of in that s7 (i think) oneshot where mumbo mentions grian’s wings being completely unfamiliar. like what you said about scar and pearl knowing more about this than he does, mumbo has very little context here. he’s working off of outdated cues and lands on “okay yeah my friend is in a bad spot but he’s getting better because he has to. and he always has before.”

AUGH. anyway. <3 -📞

previous ask in question

YES YES that is actually EXACTLY what that side fic was meant to show!!! The fact that he KNOWS something is wrong but is willing to let it slide and sort itself out under the hood is a character trait i find fascinating to explore in him!!! And tbh, writing it has been a very quiet set-up to this chapter the entire time. I just really wanted to shed light on his inner thought process for similar situations and show precedence for this specific behavior-- Mumbo shies away from prying and getting heavily involved with emotional situations!!! And sometimes this can be good, and initially protected Grian's privacy while he got used to freedom again when he first joined hermitcraft.... and then sometimes-- like right now-- it can be very, very bad for the entire situation. I just think its a neat interpretation to run with and run with it i certainly have :]

OUGH im so glad that little line of Grian's paid off so well-- it makes me so so happy that it seems to have hit in the exact way i wanted it to 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 im really enthusiastic that everyone has had so many feelings about it!!! Ohhh Grian..... your issues<3 thanks phone anon, im really happy you liked the chapter!! :DDD

[redfurrycat]

🤠🚘🔧🐓Mechanic Fic Recs🐓🔧🚘🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: BethAnnAngel, Crowstakeflight, Drh0rrible, Halestrom, Haridwar, Hrtofglss, ReformedTsundere, SunMonTue.

Flower & Tattoo Shops AU > Bakery & Coffee Shop AU > Chef, Bartender & Waiter

you can crash my car anytime by drh0rrible {E}

There's a heatwave in California, something that Jake's car has decided to take personally. Being stranded at the side of the road in a crappy car is something he's used to, he's just not expecting such a hot rescuer. A series of breakdowns, rescues, and meetings under

Services Rendered by ReformedTsundere {E}

When Jake's car decides to try and kill itself, and Bradley comes along to lend a hand, well, it's only right he offers compensation, right?

Hangman's Noose by halestrom {T}

Bradley was excited that Jake made it back from the mission he had been on, even if he was a little worse for wear. It's been six years since they started dating, and he figured it was time for Jake to meet his uncles at a dinner they were hosting for some new detachment Mav had been working with. As well as let Jake know who his uncles are so he could finally propose. Too bad Jake already had plans with his CO and squad for the evening.

wing it while you're figuring it out by haridwar {T}

Jake thought he might get away with not being questioned any further over his recovery choices as Bradley instructed him to turn over the engine and they both grimaced at the dramatic way it spluttered for a moment before dying again. He managed to get through the entire process of Bradley concluding his initial investigation and hooking Jake’s truck up behind his for towing before the subject was brought up again. “So, I’m guessing Mav was the backup plan then? Or do you just have a thing for hanging out on the highway for hours on end before calling for help?”

What I'm Here For by crowstakeflight {T}

Jake's mechanic shop starts getting a frequent customer. Who knew Bradley Bradshaw had a lot of car issues?

Goose Auto Repair by BethAnnAngel {G}

Jake wants to see this mechanic again and makes up excuses to see him.

Get your motor runnin' by SunMonTue {E}

Bradshaw is apparently the best mechanic Maverick knows. Which Jake considers high praise from Maverick. If Bradshaw can fix his car then maybe he is. Jake is expecting an old-timer with lots of experience. What he gets, is surprised. And it doesn't stop there. He's a bit of an idiot about it all.

you make my motor run by hrtofglss {M}

“Jake come over to you, yet?” “Yep.” “Did he call the Bronco a ‘grocery getter’?” “Uh huh.” “And did you call the Mustang a ‘show pony’?” “Sure did.” Nat stares at Bradley with a you can’t be serious expression. “I’ll never understand you two.” or, car show rivals au.