#she's too normal sized/less powerful than the rest of them and always felt like a total black sheep of the family to me

[miquella-everywhere]

No actually the thing that perturbs me the most thanks to this absolute nonsense retcon is that you have the whole dominating color scheme of Gold and Scarlet within elden ring so when you get to the whole dynamic between Miquella and Trina you pause to think, "why purple? where the heck did the purple come from?" but then you think even harder and remember Melina and the whole sealed away purple eyeball thing going on with her and then you remember that the Gloam-Eyed Queen existed and how data-mining the dlc reveals that she was supposed to be there but ultimately wasnt for frankly stupid reasons and then you remember the story trailer of marika stealing from a pregnant woman's corpse and how the Gate of Divinity had that Gold and Purple backdrop going on but instead the writers were lame and now even Melinas own greatest mysteries were never answered and wow this retconned lore sucks absolute ass

anyway gloam-eyed queen is marikas sister and melinas mother truther forever 🤟

[uptolovegood]

the poet and the girl ⋆ pandora rosier and regulus black, a microfic inside pandora’s mind ⋆ word count — 711

“i’m not sure if i’m doing this right,” pandora says, her voice lower than a whisper, as if she were muttering to herself. there was no need to, considering the room was empty. it was just regulus there with her. in moments like these, when the moon was spinning and people around her seemed distorted— things she had no idea how to convey coherently to people who weren’t aware of how her mind worked—, all she wanted to do was hide.

“doing what right?” regulus asks, his voice somehow softer, lessening the usual snark and playfulness in it whenever they’re all messing around. when it’s just them, he’s different. more patient, pandora thinks. she believes it’s because he understands her.

“living in the world we live in. doing things like a normal girl would. i’m not sure i know what i am doing, but it often feels like i am living someone else’s life in a body that might or might not belong to me and i— i am terrified of living in here, in this body, in this mind,” she says, exasperated, mortified because god, how was she supposed to explain herself?

pandora had always felt different. and that’s an understatement. she’d always felt out of touch with reality, often finding comfort in people she made up. they were predictable, comfortable, compassionate. figments of the imagination are easier to socialize with. ever since she was a child, ever since she could remember, her only friend had been her brother. mind you, she loves him. there was no doubt. but lately there was something— her brother was being secretive. she’d caught him sneaking around the other day, his tie loose and his hair disheveled, a small dazed smirk on his face. she believes he might be with someone, she’s still not sure.

her eyes fall back to her lap, where her hands rest and her fingers fidget with the hem of her skirt— it’s filled with printed, colorful orchids, one of her favorite flowers, of all shapes and sizes— as she holds her breath. waiting for regulus’ answer feels like a dagger is pulsing through her ribcage every time she attempts to breathe. it’s just her heartbeat, though, she tries to remember. it doesn’t make it any less unbearable.

“i get it,” he finally says, making her eyes go wide. curious, expectant, cautious. “i feel scared of being here, too. of being me, that is,” he cringes as he stumbles upon his words. he never really talks about the way he feels, but pandora’s presence sometimes just allows a thing or two to slip off his tongue with admirable ease. “i— i’m not sure if we’re supposed to be normal, pan. i think nobody can be.”

“then what are we?”

“well,” regulus says, this time reluctantly placing a hand on top of pandora’s fidgeting ones, looking straight into those eerily-gray eyes that she often overlooked the power of, “you are pandora. i am regulus. and that is enough, for now. it should do.”

“i am my name, then, you say?” she asks, surprising herself as her lips twitch up a bit and the gleam of her eyes grows at the boy’s words. even he seems surprised, he rarely ever comforts people.

“you are you, pan. that’s what i mean. i think you’re the most beautiful when you’re you.” when he says that, he doesn’t cringe. he doesn’t falter or stutter slightly. he doesn’t shift uncomfortably or change positions. all of these things pandora noticed he would do when he felt unsure, unsafe. however, calling her beautiful, calling her her, he was sure of it. confident, even. his chin was held up high, and there was a ghost of a smile threateningly wavering the lines of his lips. like it was almost there.

she could only smile. she looked at him, really looked at him, and smiled. “the poet has spoken, then.”

“that he has. and the artist must listen, for he does not speak in vain,” regulus says in that poetry-reading tone of his, his voice raspy and posh-like. whenever he used it, he sounded like a kid and a wise, old man all at once.

“could you tell the poet something for me?”

“anything.”

“tell him i’m glad to be home.”

[stingslikeabee]

As far as making decisions went, Melissa had called some pretty lousy shots over the last couple of years. Perhaps Japan hadn't been the best place to pursue her dreams of finally finding a permanent home, particularly when she lacked awareness of how different Okinawa was from the rest of mainland Japan (from the dialect to everyday diet) and the intensity of the prejudice and bias towards foreigners (even more so of the female kind).

Well, now Melissa knew - but not before owing ridiculous sums of money to the worst people around, of course. Too proud to write back to family to ask for help, too insignificant for the local police or law enforcement to act (she had willingly gone to these loan sharks for financial aid, after all). It was something the girl needed to work out herself, even if the suffocating presence of Sagawa felt like a leash had been strapped around her neck, his false honeyed words always leaving the hint of a darker fate possible.

Being a woman always meant that there were more dreadful things than mere forced labor or death, really. Japan was not that different in that aspect.

But the fact that Melissa endured the strange exchange between the two men at one of the back rooms of the Grand with remarkable composure said something of her experiences already; as a hostess (even if away from mainland), there had always been a component of the job which involved being sized and appraised as some sort of prized horse during an auction. The entire idea of hostessing was rather mindblowing to a non-resident - but once she fell in the industry, the brunette discovered it wasn't so bad.

At least when she did it voluntarily and not dragged around by Sagawa like some sort of exotic commodity, even if there was nothing but the right amount of deference and respect in her gestures. But the exchange between Sagawa and Majima had been weird - when the older yakuza mentioned that Melissa would be working her debt off at a place she couldn't possibly hope to escape or run away from, the woman had imagined something different.

A far less luxurious house, for starters, and the idea that her boss would be a new type of jailer. But going by the interactions that happened just then, it didn't look like the two guys were on best terms either. Melissa's mind was running fast, trying to put the pieces of a complex puzzle together, but the best route thus far seemed to be a well-behaved, decent employee. Sagawa had power over her, enough to send the brunette to far less illuminated and pleasing establishments in Sotenbori. That she had ended up at the Grand was not precisely... Terrible.

Even if Majima was the greatest question mark of them all; he surely was yakuza too (Melissa had been around too many to tell; even if they had been Okinawa-based, those who joined the criminal life in Japan seemed to behave similarly everywhere), but he didn't dress like one except for the eyepatch. There were just... Too many questions there, but it wasn't the moment or the place to voice any of them.

Once Sagawa was out of the room, however, Majima changed; the aggressive edge from earlier seemed to dissipate and he spoke in a normal voice tone, not sounding (or looking) dismissive of her prior experience as many had been in Osaka. Blinking, Melissa smoothened the front of her dress and nodded, offering him a bow as etiquette mandated. She could do this - not her first rodeo, certainly not her first contact with the yakuza either.

"That's right, Majima-san. I'm Melissa, pleased to make your acquaintance," the introduction came easily enough in Japanese, although there was an accent there denouncing her obvious western origins. "I worked for a couple of years as a hostess in Okinawa, then a few months in Sotenbori after moving to Kansai. Nowhere near as impressive as the Grand, of course," the girl added, a statement that was meant to be sincere and also offer him some background that was purely neutral. Whether or not Majima was there to keep an eye on her, this was nothing Sagawa didn't know himself.

"I'm happy to take any questions you might have during training - I look forward to learning from your experience and that of my colleagues," the woman declared with practiced ease, which showed Melissa not to be ignorant of the peculiar hierarchy among the hostesses, too; newcomers could have a hard time, particularly if the reigning favorites were not keen on more competition, as minimal as it could be.

@stingslikeabee liked for a starter ( plotted )

business was silent in these hours, still a few customers, but not as many as these were work hours for most. majima was able to find the time to sort out some of the back area, not really being required to be out on the floor so much though he still made an effort to make an appearance every now & again.

he was checking through the orders they had put in for alcohol, making sure everything added up to the amount he paid for, it was crucial to him that he wasn't losing any money as any money lost was progress lost to him getting back into the tojo clan. it had been like what ... a year now that he had to adopt this lord of the night persona ? something majima never seen himself as, he didn't feel like he was fit for this kind of work, he really wanted to be yakuza again, but the goal still seemed so far away from him.

it didn't help sagawa didn't make things easier, while this definitely wasn't as bad as his time in the hole, he felt mentally drained, & he didn't get a break from this bastard either, dude had eyes everywhere.

a knock sounded at the door, majima figured it was likely just one of his workers, probably needing help out on the floor for whatever reason, he just hoped it wasn't something little, he really hated to be disturbed.

❝ come in. ❞

sure enough, one of his workers came in, however his eye widened as he saw who followed, now on edge, majima had not expected sagawa, but he should've, the man comes around unannounced a lot of the time, he should be used to this by now.

❝ sagawa-han ... what brings you here ? ❞

the man had that smug look on his face like he always did around majima, his eye narrowed as he saw the woman behind him, a foreign woman in a matter of fact, what was sagawa doing with a foreigner ?

majima-chan, only came around for a minute to drop something off to you, why you always so stiff when i come around, what about a 'how are ya ?' or something ? wouldn't kill you, you know, to be a bit nicer towards me.

majima didn't speak, he hated this, he hated how this man acted, if it was both of them alone, majima would likely have a hand held around his neck, threatening to cut off the air supply to his windpipes, he hated this fake friendliness the other put on in front of others. it was a long pause of silence before he did speak up.

❝ ok, what exactly are you dropping off ? ❞

sagawa merely had the foreign woman come forward, now standing between the two men, majima looked down at her, examining her visually, she wasn't bad looking at all, but what was this for really ? sagawa never really helped him with hostess, & any he did, turned out to be so foul & nasty, it hurt the business more than it helped, majima was pretty sure they were likely spies too, more eyes for sagawa, now he comes with a foreigner, whilst majima was open enough to any woman, he couldn't say his clients would be the same.

❝ this is ? ❞

your new hostess, don't worry, she's got some experience, might even attract some unique clients, being foreign & all.

great, just great, another hostess from sagawa, before majima could say anything more, sagawa waved his goodbye & left majima with this woman now alone in the room, majima still had his eye on her, not sure what to say, he guessed he had to deal with this though, maybe she'll be different than the rest, or maybe she'll be the worst, only time would tell.

❝ so, ya a hostess then, & have some experience goin' by what he says ? how 'bout we go out onto the main floor so i can run ya through some questions ? ❞

his put-on kansai dialect & soft tone of voice kicked in, he never really liked sounding uber-serious towards women, he liked to sound chill around them so they would also feel chill & safe with him.

[absolutelyfizzing]

angels and demons

warren worthington x reader fluff

@shuckfaced-fangirl Hi! can I request a warren worthington x female mutant reader where her powers are shadow summoning? So I guess everyone in the school kind of views her as some sort of demon? With a lot of fluff? Thank you!!

Description - Y/N is a shadow summoner and is isolated from her peers. Warren helps her see that not everyone fears her and that she is worthy of affection.

warnings - its so fluffy. fem pronouns. some angsty stuff (isolation, depression, sadness), one innuendo, devastating fluff, warren being an angel. i tried to make it POC inclusive, please let me know if it feels restricting or excluding and i will edit it.

word count - 3700, i got carried away

A/N - im so sorry this took so long, i took a break from writing while i am working on moving to college. i will still be spotty for the next few weeks but hopefully, i will post a few more things in that time and then get back on a normal schedule. also, thanks so much for this request, i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope it is something you enjoy reading!

MASTERLIST

You walked through the halls with a lowered head. You knew that you made others uncomfortable and so you chose to try to make yourself as small and unthreatening as possible. You had been 'gifted' powers with which you could manipulate and create darkness. You were a shadow summoner. That wasn't a name that many found reassuring or comforting.

There were a few who could see past it and who was close to being what you might call friends but those people were few and far between. There were overwhelmingly more people who believed that you must have been a scary and mean person, that you were some sort of demon. This couldn't have been further from the truth if one were to look past appearances. Your shadow was larger and darker than that of your peers and it trailed behind you with a mind of its own, moving and growing without you even meaning for it to happen. Your hands were constantly covered in something darker and dustier than the rest of your skin, a deep and pure black. It trailed from the tips of your fingers and faded on your forearm so it looked as though you had just dipped your arms into a chimney or that shadows were crawling up your arms.

When you first got them, you thought they were sort of cool. They made you look sort of goth and that was fun. That feeling quickly faded when you saw how others, even your family, reacted. They said it was a curse from hell. You were barely convinced otherwise.

You sat away from others at the school during free periods. During lunch you sat alone and in the sun when you could, you hoped it might make others be less scared of you as it might make you look brighter but your shadow, dark and ominous, maintained a spot near you. You wore clothes that made you look more approachable to try to maintain that you weren't scary. Your brightly colored outfit didn't ever seem to work though, no matter how hard you tried.

You looked down at the food in your hands, the sandwich only half-eaten, and you noted your hands. They were so normal looking, your nails were well kept and you thought they were a good size. That they might even be a good size for someone to hold. The only thing was the unnaturally colored dust that seemed to cover them. It was a cool black, it glistened and sparkled in the sun when your fingers moved. It never moved or transferred to anything else, always stuck securely to your skin. You were distracted by the way your fingers seemed to shine when a shadow came near yours, wings outlined in it. You looked up to see a tall blond boy above you with curly hair and bags under his eyes. He nodded to a spot on the grass near you.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

You shook your head and even scooted away from the spot to give him more space despite the fact that you were in a large field.

"Do you want me to move?" You asked gently, wondering if maybe he wanted this particular spot and you took it from him unknowingly.

"I mean, I think that would sort of take away the whole point of me trying to sit with you." He smirked and you felt blood rush to your cheeks. "I like your hands" He hummed and you looked at him in shock. When his eyes met yours you tilted your head a bit.

"They don't bother you?" You tried to speak softly.

"No, I think they're awesome. They make you look punk." He smiled and you felt the corners of your mouth tug up a bit too.

"I like your wings." You almost mumbled as you allowed your gaze to move to the large feathery wings behind him. They moved in the wind and you found yourself wanting to run your fingers through them. "They make you look like an angel." You smiled and he groaned dramatically.

"I'm trying to look grunge." He pouted and you giggled a bit. At the sound, he looked up at you and blushed a bit. "Maybe we should trade."

"If I could trade you I would. Everyone is scared of how I look." You gazed back at the grass.

"I'm not." His simple statement made butterflies erupt in your stomach and you smiled a bit. You looked back at him and made eye contact for a moment.

"What's your name?" You asked and he maintained his gaze into your eyes. It was the most contact or conversation with someone else you'd had in a long time.

"I'm Warren." He smiled a bit and stuck a hand out to you to shake. You looked at his hand in shock. Nobody ever voluntarily touched your hands. Most of them worried that whatever was on them would spread. You hesitantly brought your hand to his, purposefully giving him plenty of time to remove his hand if he felt uncomfortable. But he didn't. Instead, your hand reached his and he shook it before letting go as if it was no big deal.

"I'm Y/N." You smiled a bit more and you felt a giggle come out of you from the joy of realizing this wasn't a dream, that someone was trying to talk to you and they weren't afraid.

"Is my name that funny?" He teased.

"No, I just-" you paused to think, "it's been so long since anyone has done this with me."

"Talked to you?" He questioned, obviously expecting you to say no and explain what you meant. Instead, you just nodded and his heart clenched for a moment. "Well, you can stick with me then."

"I don't know if you want your reputation to take a hit like that."

"My reputation is 'the angry and damaged kid', I'm sure it can handle the breaking news of me talking to a nice and pretty girl." He reassured before he even realized what he was saying. You could have cried at the feeling that rose up in your chest.

After that day, you stuck to his side like glue and he took no issue with it. The more you got to know him the more you appreciated the fact that he had taken you in. With his help, over the coming months, he helped you develop a stable friend group. That group included people like Ororo and Jane who had heard rumors about you and never bothered to check and see if they were real. They apologized profusely, especially Jean as she felt like she could have easily found out that you were kinder than she thought with her abilities but just had never done so, and you gladly accepted, just happy to be within a group.

You and Warren had developed a reputation. He was overly protective and gruff while you were overly nice and empathetic. You balanced each other well and if you were honest, you were in love with him. That always felt weird to say, you'd never been in love with anyone before but every second you spent with him made you more and more sure of your feelings.  

When you and Warren were together, you would daydream about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. Being held by him and wrapped in his wings. Getting to play with his unkempt hair. Holding his hand.

Sometimes he would try to encourage you to hold his hand. He would hold it out to you when he was helping you jump down from somewhere high. He would ask you to hand him things and then make decisive contact as he took it from you. He knew that it meant a lot to you, you practically gasped and blushed every time he did it. He had never met anyone so touch starved. He wanted to give you all the affection that you craved.

Unfortunately, Warren was rather oblivious, especially towards things like feelings and emotions. He had no clue that you had any interest in him, even though he hoped you did every day. If he wasn't so attached to your friendship, he might ask you out. Instead, he tried to maintain a friendly distance so he didn't cross any lines while also being as affectionate with you as he could be. You followed a similar path.

The person caught in the middle of this was poor Jean Gray. she had watched you pine over each other since you met and had heard every thought that went through both of your heads. She knew you would never complain or ask for help about anything so she liked to keep tabs on your thoughts every once in a while to make sure you were okay. Still, she tried her best to not listen very often or when you were thinking about anything very personal, she honestly did. But she was a romantic. All she wanted was for you two idiots to get together but you were both oblivious. She decided, probably 3 months into you becoming friends, that she had to do something about it.

She was sitting on your bed while you sat across your bedroom on your small couch. She fiddled with her thumbs while she tried to ignore your constant thoughts about Warren, his hands, his wings, his smile. She was exhausted. she took a small breath while she planned how she would try to say this to you.

"Do you want to know what I heard today?" She called and you looked up at her from the book you were pretending to read.

"Do you mean heard or 'heard'?" You laughed and she rolled her eyes.

"Either." Then she tilted her head. "Both."

"Yeah, I wanna know! What's it about?" You asked while leaning forward in your seat. Jean always had the best gossip to tell because she could literally hear it.

"Warren." She stated simply and watched your reaction. You flushed and stopped breathing for a moment.

"Wha-" you stuttered, "what about him?"

"That he has a thing for you." she winked and you flushed even more.

"You're lying." You assured, a questioning look on your face.

"I'm not and I'm tired of watching you two longing after one another while the rest of the school watches." She smiled and your heart picked up.

"I thought I told you not to look in my head!" You scolded but you weren't actually all that upset. You knew that it was very hard for her to control.

"I cant help it! Both of you think so loud. And I wouldn't have to anyway, Ororo mentioned it to me the other day and she definitely cants read minds." She giggled and you smiled a bit.

"Does he actually like me?" You almost whispered in disbelief.

"Yes! He's been obsessed with you since you started talking."

"But like he would want to actually go-"

"Y/N, I swear to god. If you don't go and talk to him right now I'm going to have a fit." She laughed and you glared at her.

"Okay okay fine, I'm going," you grumbled as you stood and walked toward your door. "If you are wrong I'm gonna be so upset with you."

She just laughed again and you started to walk down the hallway. You thought he might be in his room or outside. You decided to check his room first.

You knocked on his door but you were met with silence. You tried the handle and it moved.

"Warren?" you paused, "I'm coming in," you warned and pushed the door open. When you looked inside, he wasn't there. You took a moment to gaze around his room, it wasn't the first time you had been in there but every time was a bit exciting as you got to see all of the things he had that represented him. He had a boombox and a CD collection on his dresser. Some of his clothes were thrown around his room haphazardly and some of his drawers were open. You looked at the wall next to you where he kept photos that you took. You would carry around a camera or take pictures on your phone of everyone around campus. He always asked for them and then printed them out so he could hang them up. He had even managed to get a couple of you. You smiled a bit before heading back into the hallway, closing the door behind you.

You instead moved towards the door to get out onto the lawn where you thought he would probably be. He often sat under the big oak trees or on the roof if he wanted to get away from people. When you made it outside, you looked around for him.

"Y/N!" you heard him shout. You turned to look for him and saw his silhouette flying from the roof. You paused to admire him and his wings. He always looked so angelic to you. So powerful. You thought about how your power emanated darkness. That you would never appear angelic to someone and would more likely look like a demon. You looked down at your hands for a second, a habit you had when you were thinking about your powers. They sparkled a bit in the sun but it did little to quell the distaste in your mouth.

Suddenly there was a shadow in front of you that was not part of the darkness that surrounded you.

"Y/N?" he asked gently. "Are you okay?" he tried not to startle you. Being empathetic wasn't something that came naturally to him, but he tried extra hard around you. he noticed the way you were staring at your hands. The growth of your shadow as you thought about your powers more. He moved to touch one of your hands but you flinched back a bit. He brought his hand back and looked at you with concern. "Whats wrong, angel?" He asked lightly and you looked up at the pet name. He had started calling you that soon after you became friends. You thought it was out of irony but he really was convinced that you were some sort of angel. He also loved the way that your eyes would light up when he said it. You stared at him for a moment in silence.

"Do I scare you?" You asked quietly and your voice shook. He looked surprised by your question and you were surprised too. You didn't know why you were suddenly getting emotional. Why this was now all you could think about. Why it had to come up now when you were trying to express your feelings for him. Instead of responding he reached out to your hand, holding onto it when you let him, despite flinching away slightly. He started to walk, leading you toward the same tree you had met under. Once you both reached it he sat down and looked up at you, waiting for you to sit down too. You did, maybe a bit farther away from him than you needed to be.

"Do you think you scare me?" he asked genuinely and you took a second to think, looking back down at your hands which were now pulled back into your lap.

"I scare me," you stated simply and paused.

"That's not what I asked."

"I don't know." You mumbled. "I think I freak everyone out. Including you I guess." Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be. you really hadn't thought about it in a little while. It had been on your mind plenty when you first started talking to him. You were extra conscious of not pushing him to be around you or near your shadow. You knew that he would move away if he needed to but you also had so many memories of everyone around you fearing you, running from you, telling you that you were a curse. Instead of responding he held his hand out in between the two of you, palm up. You knew that he was inviting you to take it but that he wouldn't push you to. Instead of taking it, you placed your hand near his on the ground and he left his next to yours, not trying to take it if you didn't want him to.

"You don't." He let out, sounding sure of himself and slightly pained. "You don't scare me." You looked at each other. He had tears in his eyes. He was never one to get emotional so you were surprised. "Do I scare you?" he questioned, already knowing your answer but trying to prove a point.

"Of course not." You sighed.

"You have a lot more reason to be afraid of me than I have to be afraid of you." he looked at your hand again. "I'm the one who has a rough history, I'm the one who is angry and has a reputation of being aggressive."

"But, Warren, your mutation is-"

"Mutation has nothing to do with it, Y/N." he sighed. "You have control over your abilities, I have control over mine. The only difference between us is our personalities and I have never had any reason to fear you or dislike you. You're the kindest person I know and everyone in your life who has let you think that there was something wrong with you was terrible. And that was on them."

Your hand reached for his and you laced your fingers together. He squeezed your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it.

"I love you." The words came out of your mouth faster than you could think and you sucked in a breath, almost hoping he didn't hear you. When you glanced up at him he had a gentle smile on his face. He brought the back of your hand up to his face and kissed it before placing it against his cheek.

"I love you too, Y/N" He reached out for your waist and pulled you toward his lap, giving you plenty of time to give him a sign that you were uncomfortable. Instead, you put your leg over his waist so you were straddling his thighs. You held one of his hands in between you and fiddled with his fingers, admiring how your hands contrasted with his. Somehow, him holding your hand made it seem less out of place. You almost felt pride.

You were suddenly surrounded by warmth and shadow, the sounds of the quad around you becoming muted. You looked up around you and his wings were wrapped around the two of you, closing you off into your own little world. You felt the urge to reach out to them but you had never asked. You had never seen him let anyone touch them and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Go ahead." your eyes snapped to his in shock.

"Warren, you never let any-"

"I want you to," he admitted and it was true. He had thought many times about asking you to run your fingers through his wings. He would never complain about it but they were a little high maintenance and also sensitive. He never let anyone touch them because most people weren't gentle or he didn't trust them. He knew though that you were the gentlest person on Earth and that he could count on you to be careful.

At his reassurance, you smiled a bit. You reached a hand out to the part of his wing next to his shoulder. You both gasped a bit when your fingers made contact. Warren was a bit surprised at how sensitive they were to your touch and it had been a long time since anyone but himself had touched them. You were entranced by how soft they were. The feathers were delicate and there were so many. You were very careful in how you moved your hand along his wing, looking at him often to see if he was uncomfortable. As you were carding your fingers through his feathers, one came out. You gasped slightly horrified that you had hurt him.

"Hey, it's okay!" he rushed out as he saw your panic. "They just sort of... shed sometimes." He almost seemed embarrassed. Feathers would come off occasionally and he would often have to brush through them himself to release all of the loose feathers, sort of like brushing your hair. He reached to pick up the feather and held it in front of you for you to take. You gladly did and you twirled it in your fingers. "Maybe sometime, if you wouldn't mind, of course, you could help me brush through them?" he asked quietly and you smiled.

"Yeah of course. They seem like they might be a lot of work." you were touched that he trusted you to do that and you thought about how hard it must be to take care of them by himself when they were so big and most of his wings were behind him.

"You should see what it's like to shower with them," he grumbled and then his eyes widened at what he had said. He hadn't meant it to be an innuendo but now he was worried he offended you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and you fell into a fit of giggles.

"I might have to take you up on that offer." Your gentle gaze made him blush. He had never felt this comfortable with anyone. This safe. He decided right then that he would do anything you ever asked of him.

After that day, you and Warren became the cutest couple at the school. You were opposites in multiple ways and your relationship was more wholesome than any of your friends could handle. You got more confident in yourself and your abilities and he allowed himself to be more vulnerable. everyone agreed that you were a match made in heaven.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

rock and roll and leather skirts.

pairing: rockstar!sebastian stan x writer!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (18+), slight breeding and choking kink

a/n: i just really love returning to this pairing. enjoy xx

It was torture.

Sebastian was sure that the way his wife looked in the crowd was nothing but torture designed to ensure he had a hard on for the whole of the show. He just couldn’t help it. How could he when she was dancing in the front row in nothing but the skinniest pair of heels, a thin strap black top and the tightest leather skirt ever designed by man. Adding to all of that, he hadn’t seen her in the past three months, stuck on an European tour his wife couldn’t accompany him on, thus he felt like he was three seconds away from pulling her on stage and having his way with her. He just couldn’t help it, his eyes couldn’t leave her. She was almost like his very own rock muse, a nymph tempting him with flowing locks as she danced to his music and soft skin illuminated by the bright halcyon light. He could hear unwritten music whenever he looked at her and god if he couldn’t help to hear the music that would come out of her scarlet tinted lips when he got his hands on her. 

The set seemed to last forever and while he adored his job and adored to play a sold out stadium, he loved to watch his wife squirm under him. As the last chord played, he was out the stadium, finding the first water bottle to throw over himself before the next morning headliner became his and his raging hard on, which he guessed wouldn’t be the first time that happened. Pushing his hair away from his face, he saw her strut backstage, the red backstage pass resting against her breasts. God damn it, that woman would be the reason he’d someday get caught and arrested for public indecency. She smiled with a grace that was so typically hers, wrapping her arms around him before leaning over to kiss him. 

How in the heck had he even scored her? He still looked like a crazy man, with messy hair and tattoos he regretted scattered all over him and she, god, she was fantastic. He could never write enough love songs about it and he couldn’t even write enough songs at how fucking good that skirt looked on her. He interrupted the kiss himself to look at her, at how fucking delectable she was even after all these yers. Of course, she now hated him less than when she first met him. 

     - Baby, that fucking skirt ... - his hand sneaked up to her ass, cupping it shamelessly as if there wasn’t staff or any of his bandmates around. 

     - I missed you too. - she teased, her hands warm against his shirtless shoulders. His fingers traced her arm, lips ghosting over her shoulder and up her neck, just below her ear. - Seb, the boys ...

     - Shouldn’t have worn that skirt then, baby bunny. - he nibbled the soft skin under her ear, hard enough to leave a mark so the dad who always sized her up at school drop offs would know he was back in town. - Fuck, you come here after I haven’t seen you for months dressed like every rocker’s wet dream. 

    - I wanted to look good for you. - she flushed under his gaze.

Fuck, she couldn’t look any sweeter with her little hot cheeks and watery eyes as if they hadn’t been married for 5 years and trying and testing both his and her fantasies; however, this skirt seemed to do it for him. He could feel his trousers tighten just thinking about it and those heels making her legs so long did not help either. His hand cupped her thigh, pushing it to hook against his own leg as he kissed her neck, sensing the nice soft flower scent from her perfume. God, he fucking missed her. 

    - You’re gonna let me fuck you, baby? - he whispered against her ear, breathy laugh escaping as he heard that soft little moan she wanted to hide from him finally materialise. - Hm? You want me to fuck you silly backstage? You want it, bunny baby?

     - Seb ... - she whined her eyes gazing the set around her, worried anyone was watching but everyone mostly ignored it. It was a rock concert backstage, sex was as ordinary as clouds in the sky. - Seb, the people ...

      - Aw bunny baby ... - he pinched her chin, pulling it up so she was looking at his eyes, his blue eyes which were now midnight blue clouded by lust. - Don’t worry, don’t want any fucking roadie getting any ideas. 

She didn’t even know what to say, instead nodding as she herself started to get uncomfortable with not being flushed to him. He hoisted her up, his hands gripping her waist as he made his way into the first room he could find. It didn’t matter where they were, if he couldn’t be inside her, he felt like he was going to explode. He pinned her against the door, his hands travelling and roaming her body while he kissed her neck and pulse, lightly bitting onto her skin as if he wanted to claim her. He wanted to claim her. 

     - Looking all sinful on the front row. - he growled recalling that view from the stage. - Getting all those stupid boys with their girlfriends all fired up. Raising their hopes up ...

     - I’m not. - she moaned as he bite harshly on her neck. 

     - You’re mine. - his voice was strained, partly from singing, partly from pure jealousy. He normally kept it under wraps yet she couldn’t help but feel attracted to it whenever he acted possessive about her. His lips crashed against hers, hands pushing her skirt off and onto the floor, causing a bit of tear to the fabric. Not that any of them minded. - I’ll fucking prove to you just how much you’re mine.

     - Please. - she begged, parting her legs for her generous lover. However, he was not in the mood for gentleness. As her hands travelled up his chest, feeling every ripple of his skin, he caged and trapped her hands above her head, mockingly smiling as she looked at him confused. 

     - Aren’t you pretty? - he mocked her, tongue licking his lips as he observed her chest raise up and down. - So fucking pretty, baby. Wanna know what it felt like seeing you and not being able to do anything?

His distance from her didn’t last long enough, he was back on her like a wolf. He wanted to bask on her scent, lips climbing up from her neck to her lips in slow, desperate motions. She whined wantonly, wanting to be freed from his grip to touch him, try to undress him, anything, but he didn’t allow her. No, Sebastian liked control and he was going to remain holding power over it. Pulling her underwear to the middle of her legs, he started to torture her sex, his fingers slowly thrusting in and out of her heat. Her chest rose up and down in slower motions, head trashing from side to side as she tried to deal with how his feeling felt dragging against her walls. God, he could make that vision the cover of his next album. Her breathe was rapid and uncontrolled, hands and fingers tensing as she felt her abdomen tighten up only to loosen up as he took his fingers off her heat. She looked at him betrayed and upset but he only smiled, bringing his fingers to his lips, licking them in sin. 

     - Felt like that. - he almost mocked her state, proud he had gotten his satisfaction but that wasn’t enough. Looking at her only fired her up even more. He let go of her hands, both of his hands cupping her face to kiss her fervently and harshly as if she was going to disappear. Her nails dragged up his back, leaving marks which were sure to make her proud until they reached his leather trousers. She quickly made way of unbuttoning them, trying to push it down but her slowness saw him help her out. 

He guided the head of his cock towards her folds before he quickly sheathed himself inside her heat. He growled, eyes rolling as he seemed to find himself in his personal eden the more he buried himself in her. Her hands pulled at him, holding him closed as he reached a hilt. His lips quickly founds hers as he started to thrust in and out of her slowly and filed with wanton. Her moans were musical and breathy, her walls contracted around him almost in sync and he swore he could die happy like this. 

     - Fuck, baby. Had forgotten how good you fucking felt around me. - he spoke through wet kisses, his hands slowly guiding her hip movements. - Aren’t you a fucking minx? My own little sex muse. 

     - Seb, please. - her nails buried onto the skin of his back, trying to quicken her movements. He wanted to go fast, rough, ignore her pleasure and merely take his but how could he when she looked so delectable, so sweet begging for him. - Please.

     - Oh, baby ... - he growled out, hand holding her neck against the door as he snapped his hips forward. She broke on in a long moan as his cock dragged in and out of her wall, mixing with the lewd sounds of his skin hitting hers. Her breathe struggled to recover, shaky from the sheer pleasure of him snapping his hips in and out of her without a care and from his grip on her neck. Her hands gripped at his body as he continued his assault on her cunt, lips sometimes stealing dirty, messy kisses from her, drinking from her lips. - Are you gonna let me cum inside of you, bunny baby? Have you dripping with my cum as you step outside? Huh? You gonna let me?

     - Please. - she moaned pathetically, no longer caring how she’d look once she stepped outside. He smiled through the kiss, hand leaving her neck to toy with her clit, the other helping him pull himself in and out of her in almost animal movements. He wanted it, he wanted her to fall apart, he wanted the world to know she was his. His moves grew uncontrollable and out of pace until his hips jerked still, a dirty, raspy moan leaving the rocker’s mouth as ropes and ropes of white cum painted her walls, some of it slightly trickling down her leg.

She held herself against him, trying to hold her legs up despite how trembly they felt. He panted through a smile, looking down to bask in another one of her kisses, holding her against him before she could fall. The two collapsed onto a nearby couch, her half naked body flushed against his as both tried to regain some sense of regular breathing. 

     - Three months is too long, baby bun. 

     - I know. - she rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him with a mischievous little smile. 

     -  Sex’s incredible though. - he stole a playful kiss from her. - I might just put your moans in a song one day.

     - Don’t you dare. - she herself peppered kisses onto his lips, jokingly pointed her finger at him.

     - Fucking love you, baby. Fucking love you. 

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 1

Fandom: Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone

Pairing: eventually will be Kaz/female!Reader but for now nothing

Warnings: I mean, Kaz Brekker is involved, someone is getting maimed

Summary:  The Darkling won the Ravka civil war, defeating the Sun Summoner and taking command of Ravka. Then he went looking for ways to make his Grisha more powerful. Kaz Brekker knew this but took the job at the Ice Court anyway, getting himself and Jesper Fahey thrown into a Ravkan prison for his efforts. After getting broken out by the Darkling's second in command the trio has to find their way to the Permafrost and the resistance gathering there. And then Kaz has to figure out a way to get his crew out of this whole mess. But how can he get himself out of the mess of feelings he has for the Grisha with all the powers?

Note: Hello!  I am alive!  I have found motivation for something else!  As much as I loved the Shadow and Bone show I have found more love in the Six of Crows books so this fic is an AU based on both.  In this the Darkling won out over Alina and then Six of Crows happened like it does, except the Darkling showed up to ruin things as he does. Also going to address the Inej sized elephant in the room, in this Kaz’s feelings were less strong towards her because I ship the fuck out of Kaz and Inej but I also ship the shit out of Kaz and myself too and I needed some self-insert.  I hope you like it, I missed writing and I’m glad to find some inspiration again.  

Kaz Brekker was known even in prison as the guy who didn't need a reason. He wanted his infamy to spread even behind bars, the better to keep those looking for a pigeon to harass away. On his first day in this hellscape he had stolen a fork from the dining hall and used it when his cellmate attempted to take the makeshift cane that he had been provided from his hand. Now he no longer had a cellmate and his old cellmate no longer had his eyes, and word spread quick of the young man willing to kill to be left alone. That had given him the time and space to start to plan his escape.

First, get Jesper as his cellmate. That was accomplished with ease. Anyone else they put in with him would be blind or deaf or crippled within 24 hours so it came down the guards asking him straight out who he wouldn't maim. He said Jesper Fahey and they allowed it if only to have a night's peace. Jesper didn't look like he was faring well. In a cell at Hellgate Jesper would have been alright but here in a West Ravkan prison near Os Alta where his Zemeni features made him stand out he had become a target. When he entered Kaz's cell rage filled the young crime lord. Jesper was thinner than ever, dark circles under his eyes and hands fidgeting constantly, almost like he needed a drug but Kaz knew it was just because he couldn't focus his energy.

"Jesper," Kaz whispered after the guard had left and his sharpshooter sat on the cot. "What do you need?" Jesper looked at him slowly and gave half a smile.

"Just my friend, s'all ok now," he said. Kaz felt the side of his mouth twitch up just a little. "But I could also use a way out of this damned place." Kaz nodded, gripping the wooden walking stick a little tighter. He wanted to put a comforting hand on Jesper's shoulder but he could not, Jordie's body, cold and wet and dead flooded his mind, and he couldn't bring himself to reach out. He hated that this place seemed to be tearing his friend apart slowly. It was even taking a toll on him. Everyday was the same, waked up with the sun, eat a breakfast of stodgy porridge and soggy bread, washed down with possibly the grimiest coffee ever made. The prisoners were then sent outside to work on either the large farm for the prison and surrounding towns or they were forced to be target practice for the Grisha guards. Normally only the worst of the worst were reserved for practice, or those that pissed off the guards. Kaz had avoided this so far but he knew Jesper had run his mouth one day, getting snarky with the yard guard and he had almost been drowned by a Tidemaker the next morning. Lunches were non-existant most days. They were shuffled from work to 'free time' which meant sitting in the hot afternoon sun either playing cards, or, if they were lucky, sitting under one of the shady trees that scattered the yard. Evening was the only decent time at this hellhole, it was dinner, and then back to the cells. Kaz enjoyed this time, he was normally alone to plan, and now that Jesper was here they could plan together. He had the beginning, how to get out of the cell, but the rest he was still working on.

"I have been planning this since we got in here, you were the first part of my plan," Kaz said, watching as another set of guards walked by. He checked the small window above their heads. "She's coming any minute now." Jesper looked at him confused for a moment before the cell door opened and a guard told Kaz to get up. Kaz nodded and stood, Jesper rising as well.

"This one should come too, he was at the Ice Court with me on that night," Kaz said to the guard. The guard looked between them and shrugged, motioning for another guard, a Grisha Corpolaki judging from the kefta he wore. They led Kaz and Jesper out of the cells and into one of the small interrogation rooms. Kaz was familiar with the room at this point, having been there several times in the past few months speaking with the Grisha Infernei who was seated at one of the two chairs in the room. She looked up as they entered and he noticed that she seemed relieved, something she hadn't shown before.

"Are there anymore of your comrades from the Ice Court in this prison?" she asked, motioning for another chair to be brought in. Jesper sat down hard while Kaz stood still, leaning on the walking stick and once again studying the Infernei. She wore a red kefta with black stitching, something different from the others and he was still not sure why. He supposed it was because she was high in the ranks. After the Darkling defeated Alina Starkov and her followers he had gone back to using his true name, Aleksander Morosova, and became king of Ravka. He used the power that he had sucked from the Sun Summoner to control the Fold now, moving and reshaping it to whatever he needed and on the night of Kaz's jurda parem heist he apparently needed the jurda parem also. Kaz and Jesper had been taken but the others had escaped.

"No, no more of us, just we two were involved," he said. The Grisha looked between them, assessing them. Kaz took another moment to look over her while she studied Jesper. He always liked to measure who he was up against, and he didn't mind studying her. She was curvy, seeming to like waffles more than Nina did, with hair a deep auburn and eyes the color of dark chocolate. The first time he saw them they reminded him of Inej's eyes except her's were more hopeful than he had ever seen Inej. This Grisha fully believed that something good could still happen in the world. Kaz was almost jealous of this, but of course, this Grisha had seen her side win the Ravka civil war. His eyes now met hers and he saw that while he was studying her she had been doing the same to him. He could tell she knew he was lying but he didn't care. He had spent the last 4 months keeping his answers vague, giving just enough information so that she would feed him information back about the current situation at the Little Palace, now the true royal home since the Grand Palace lay in ruin. King Aleksander left it as a reminder to those who would attempt to assassinate him, bodies still left scattered around the rubble, Alina Starkov's kefta in tatters on the front steps. Kaz hadn't seen it but from the way this Grisha described it, he believed it was terrifying.

"Mr. Brekker, we both know the heist you were attempting could never be accomplished with just two people," she said, a knowing smile on her face. This seeming infatuation the Grisha had with him was a plus for Kaz. He often wondered if he could possibly seduce his way out of the situation but his mind couldn't fathom the interactions involved, so he would wait. Perhaps this woman had a inclination towards criminals, she might be seduced by anyone, Jesper could do it easily, Kaz just had to get the ball rolling so to speak.

"I don't know, I think Jesper and I can accomplish anything we put out mind to," he answered, bringing himself to nudge his partner in crime with his elbow. The Grisha nodded and opened her notebook as she did at every meeting and began to write.

Y/N had noticed the look on Kaz Brekker's face when he elbowed Jesper Fahey. She could see his hesitation, she noticed the look in his storm gray eyes. He was bracing himself for impact as if the touch would somehow hurt him. Jesper's face was surprised at the touch, and he physically turned towards Kaz with shock. She opened her notebook and pretended to jot down something important as she did every day, but she mentally notated this interaction. She had been listening to others in the prison and despite his limp Kaz never let anyone see him as weak, however, this aversion to touch was never mentioned. He hid it well out in the general population but she could see something about touch bothered him immensely, that information could be useful later. Kaz Brekker was a tough nut to crack she had to admit, but eventually she would get to where she needed to be with him, hopefully sooner rather than later. Aleksander was having a tough time buying her excuses and she had to become even more convincing for him, continuing to keep his trust after the betrayal of the Sun Summoner was an arduous task. She hoped soon she could drop her facade and begin her true purpose, breaking Kaz Brekker and his cohorts out of this prison and find the gathering resistance in the Permafrost.

"Alright Mr. Brekker, we left off yesterday with you explaining to me how you came to know about jurda parem and what the Fjerdans were doing with Bo Yul-Bayor and his son Kuwei?" she said. It had taken months for Kaz to even start explaining anything to her. She had hoped that agreeing to allow his friend to be his cellmate would open him up. Luckily the gamble had worked at their last interrogation. His answers had still been too vague to really make an impact but it was a start. She hated to make him desperate but she needed the information, something to feed to Aleksander and send him on a chase for more jurda parem. Kuwei Yol-Bo had escaped from the Ice Court and that knowledge was keeping Bo from cooperating with the Second Army. He had recreated exactly one vial of jurda parem and refused to create another until his son was returned safely to him. Kaz Brekker and Jesper Fahey had been the last people to see Kuwei alive and she needed something to tell Aleksander before he decided to come here and do the interrogations himself.

"Yes, I believe I told you that a rumor had gone around Ketterdam and that I just happened to hear it," he said, making sure he was as convincing as he could be. Once again Y/N pretended to write something down, pretending to believe his lie. He was a very good liar, she could see that in the way his eyes held truth, his body language said honest, even his pulse was calm, however, the blood in his veins moved just a milisecond faster during his falsehoods. It had taken nearly a month to figure out the tell in his body but she had done it and now she used this against him.

"Must have been quite a rumor to make you put your friends in the line of fire of Fjerdans and of King Aleksander," she said, keeping her voice light, leaning a little closer to him. She couldn't lie, she was enraptured by the young man from the Barrel of Ketterdam, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe that he would ever see her as anything other than another Ravkan Grisha blindly serving her king, but she could pretend that she hoped to lure him in, get him feeling confident about her.

"Jesper will tell you, he was eager to join me to find this new drug, imagine the kruge we could make from such a thing," Kaz said, standing suddenly and poking Jesper towards Y/N with his cane. He moved towards the wall, leaning against it. Y/N watched him for a few moments before turning her attention to Jesper. He wanted to push someone else at her? Why? She could tell he liked the attention she gave him, maybe not in a way most men did, but he liked it all the same. Jesper barked a laugh.

"Eager? You came back and acted like we were going to be rolling in kruge, become kings of Kerch," Jesper said. He was also a practiced liar, following the lead of his boss as it were. Y/N smiled at Jesper then, making sure her brown eyes looked intrigued and enraptured. She noticed the Zemeni man leaned back in his chair then, clearly not interested in the attentions of a Grisha like herself. "But ya, I mean, I wanted the kruge and I was having a good run that night at the tables, felt lady luck was on my side." She saw him fidgeting near his waist, where his guns should be. She had those stored in her private quarters, along with a certain crow headed cane, waiting for the right moment. She had been watching Kaz and Jesper since they arrived, having her spies give her information on them. They were the only link she had to Kuwei and Inej Ghafa and she needed to know all she could before she continued her plan.

She tried to pry more out of the two for several minutes before one of her people, a young Squallor entered.

"The hour is late Korovsa, the king is finished waiting," she whispered. Y/N’s jaw tightened. Her eyes flashed to Kaz and she saw him take notice of the slight change in her features. Her fears were starting to come to pass. She needed to end this charade now.

"Guard, please escort Mr. Fahey back to his new cell. Mr. Brekker and I have more to discuss," she ordered. The guard grabbed Jesper's arm, hauling him from the seat. Y/N wanted to say something, tell them to lay off the guy, but knew she couldn't appear as if she cared. Once he was gone she made a motion for Kaz to sit. He still stood. "Sit, now," she insisted, hoping he heard the urgency in her voice. He eyed for another moment before he moved to sit. She leaned closer, all of her coy attitude gone.

"What's happened?" Kaz asked casually, working the top of the walking stick with his hands, the only sign of his concern. Y/N let out a breath.

"My time is up, tomorrow night expect there to be a riot, stay in your cell with Jesper, don't leave until you hear 2 bells, then leave the cell and go to your left, the door will be ajar due to the last guard through it mistakenly knocking over mop. Once you are in the corridor go right and follow it to the deserted morgue. I will join you and lead you and Jesper out, do not leave without me," she said.

"Why should I believe any of this? That you're just going to help up walk out of there?" Kaz asked, trying to read her, seeing if she was lying. She groaned annoyed. Why was it that her only hope was as distrustful as her current king?

"Because I want to see the king's body burn before he destroys all of us," she whispered, voice dripping with venom. Kaz looked a little surprised at her viciousness and he nodded. She sat back, knowing that by now the guard had returned.

"Well Mr. Brekker, you've once again been no help, tomorrow the king will be coming to personally interrogate you, I hope you are looking forward to it," she said. "Guard take him back to his cell." The guard nodded and yanked him out of the chair. "Careful, the king won't like it if he can't inflict the pain himself," she warned, more to Kaz than the guard. She hoped Kaz believed her enough, that she had shown her hand to him enough that he would do as she asked. If he didn't they were all screwed.

[yoichichi]

To Call You Mine

college!tsuki x reader series

Ch. 1 - study buddies

warning(s): swearing, early early mornings 😵‍💫, second hand embarrassment LOL

a/n: ahhhhh!! Here’s chapter one of my first series!! I have the masterlist and details linked above but for some quick info: this is a college!au multi chapter fic about tsuki and the reader :) if you’d like to be added to the taglist let me know!! And as always I really appreciate your thoughts and comments n all that :) my inbox is always open!!! Enjoy <3 psps - don’t forget to check out the playlist linked above hhehehe

You’re not sure what woke you first; your alarm, the pain shooting up your back from the stiff cot your university has the audacity to refer to as a “bed”, or your own sour attitude from having to be up so early.

Five am. Five am. It takes a certain kind of sick and twisted individual to suggest meeting up to study at five in the morning. Although, you have to admit, it does take a different kind of person to actually agree to those terms.

Why, why, why, why, why.

Is the mantra you chant to yourself while you mindlessly dress and pack your bag, not even bothering to snatch a power bar from your nightstand for breakfast. Water will have to do.

You make an effort to click the door shut behind you quietly, not wanting to wake up your more than sweet dorm mate who’d surely be focusing on being just as careful as you were right now.

“Oh my gosh, don’t you have that study date in the morning sweetie? You should be sleeping right now.” Bonnie, said dorm mate, leans over the back of your desk chair to peer down at the page of your calculus ll textbook you’ve been staring at for the past ten minutes. Concern is evident in her voice and her body language as she brings up a hand to gingerly rub your shoulder, hoping her small sideways smile will give you a sense of comfort. Or maybe even convince you to give it, and yourself, a rest.

“I know, I know. I just want to be prepared is all. I’m already dropping past a C at the speed of light and I’m sure my professor thinks I’m an idiot, hence him actually setting me up with a tutor, and I don’t need this guy to think I’m one too.” Your head falls in your hands at the end of your sentence, a dramatic groan feeling needed to really emphasize your point, too.

“Okay, just head to bed soon.” She placed a kiss on the top of your head before crawling into her own bed, using a storage container to prop herself onto it properly. She almost made you homesick with the way she doted on you like she was your mother.

You looked over and tapped the screen of your phone to see it read 9:14, not too late. You could reasonably cram in one more lesson.

You scoffed at yourself with the door fully shut and locked. You should’ve listened to Bonnie when you had the chance, it was just past midnight when you finally tore yourself away from last weeks review and decided to get ready for bed. Barely even four hours later and you’re up and getting ready to look at it all again.

You could at least appreciate how quiet the dorm hall was this ea-

“Mornin’, you!”

You internally banged your head against the wall at the bright voice that came towards you with such heavy and loud footsteps, how can someone’s footsteps manage to be so loud on carpet?

You substituted a hello with a gentle smile and wave as your R.A., who definitely didn’t remember your name - which is fine cause you didn’t remember theirs either, rushed past you.

Sighing deeply, you left the warm confines of the dorm building and stepped into the cold and brisk morning, starting your trek to the library.

He couldn’t have even chose a coffee place or something?

You had some, thoughts, about this guy. You didn’t know much about him, only two things.

One, his name: Tsukishima Kei.

Two, he was a good enough student to be assigned to you as a tutor.

You swallowed your slight embarrassment at the thought of your professor reaching out to someone on your behalf and instead chose to focus more on how weird this guy has to be.

Waking up before the sun rises on a Sunday was not something you looked forward to, you don’t think anybody would truly; especially to meet someone for the first time; yet this guy thinks it’s a great idea. So much so he didn’t even think to ask first, just tell you when and where to meet.

Thursday 4:14 pm

- ‘It’s Tsukishima. See you at 5 in the library this sunday.’

- ‘Oh hi!! Oh ok, am or pm?? lol’

Thursday 7:43 pm

- ‘am.’

- ‘Ok cool, see ya then!’

And that was it. Neither of you have texted since, which was three days ago on a Thursday afternoon. It kind of bothered you really, I mean, what kind of self righteous ass-

You took a deep breath and chose to think happy thoughts instead. You’d much rather be in a somewhat pleasant mood when you meet this guy than have some grudge against a stranger. And he probably talks different than he texts, right? You’re sure he didn’t mean to sound like a complete jerk.

You shook your head as if you were shaking away your thoughts as you started to walk along the path to the library. It was a fairly nice walk, about five minutes, and being alone was kind of peaceful on the way there this early.

Your feet shuffled only slightly on the cold concrete surprisingly enough considering the way your fatigue was starting to creep into your joints - but surely the cold wasn’t helping.

It was that kind of morning cold that stung your nostrils when you breathed in and tickled your cheeks and ears. It made your hands clench and unclench in your coat pockets, debating whether or not it’d be worth it to pull the cold metal of your jacket zipper just a centimeter higher in hopes of keeping your neck warmer. The morning fog leaving droplets on the synthetic material of your coat, making it squeak awfully when you moved your arms. And there was the dew on the grass that’d cling onto the tops of your shoe when you had to walk through it.

But the way the old fashioned light posts lit your walk and illuminated the fog kind of made your slight discomfort worth it. And by the time you reached the tall brick library, you could almost say you were in a pleasant mood, almost. And then you remembered why you were here.

You took one final deep breath as you reached the heavy doors of the university library. It was a grand sight really.

The building had its own separate spot on campus, towering at about four stories high, which although didn’t sound ginormous, it definitely felt that way when you had to climb those stairs to the top floor for a book you really didn’t even want. The brick with the foliage creeping up the sides to cover some of the lower windows even gave it an almost magic feeling when you took it in from the outside, it’s too bad that sense of wonder couldn’t be mirrored on the inside.

It was too quiet, especially this early, it smelt almost stale, and everything seemed to have a layer of dust no matter how new a book was. And the bathrooms? Old. Most stalls didn’t even have usable locks at this point. It’s arguably all apart of the charm of such an old building, but it’s not as charming when you have to reach out to keep the stall door closed with your fingertips just to use the restroom. And the water from the sink that never seems to get warm enough when you wash your hands doesn’t help either. Yet the water fountains are always too warm curiously enough.

You made little to no noise besides the occasional rustling of your jacket and squeaking of your shoes as they padded across the dingy off-colored carpet towards the back of the first floor.

There were various sizes of tables spread out throughout the space, few actually matching in color or style. The chairs varied less - but you could still find the oddball desk chair, or the chair with the wooden frame just a tad to wide to feel like a normal seat but just as evenly too small to be a bench.

Your heavy eyes surveyed the dimly lit space in hopes of finding any sign of human life when you finally noticed a backpack haphazardly tossed onto a table, still zipped open. Pens were splayed across the table with a single notebook, scribbles scrawled across the pages too far from you to be read. Not seeing anyone occupying the seat pulled away from the tables edge, you took out your phone to take a peek at the time.

4:58 am

Wow, I’m early?

Shoving your phone back into your pocket you began to make your way towards the (un)occupied table, debating whether a seat closer or farther would be more polite.

If I sit too close that’ll definitely be-

“Hey.”

You felt your shoulders hunch up to your ears and a small gasp leave your mouth at the way the voice behind you so suddenly interrupted your train of thought.

You turned around to come face to face with the voice.

“Are you (y/n)?”

Damn. He’s kinda tall.

Kind of was certainly an understatement. God he was definitely above 6 feet, 6’2” maybe? No, maybe even a little taller.

A single earbud was still in his ear as the other hung down and rested against his chest. He took the time to take the other out and wrap the cord gently around his middle and index finger before shoving it into his coat pocket, presumably the same one with his phone, in an effort to prevent them from getting tangled most likely. He took a deep breath and eyed you up and down before chuckling softly to himself.

“Okay.”

The tall man, who you’re now beginning to realize is Tsukishima, gives you a quizzical stare with a quirked eyebrow as he looks you up and down one last time, definitely judging you and your silence at this point, before turning around and making his way to a table.

Well it’s a good thing he stopped you before you sat at some other strangers table. You don’t think your heart could’ve taken that today.

You watched his back as he made his way towards a table farther into the back, closer to a window peering out onto the foggy and barely illuminated field.

Oh shit

“Oh, sorry!” You clear your throat and begin again, your own sudden volume startling yourself for a moment, as you double your pace to catch up and walk beside him towards a table,

“Um, yeah. Sorry, it’s a little early, brain hasn’t woke all the way up.”

Silence.

At the lack of a response, you decide to awkwardly laugh rather than wallow at the fact he didn’t even give a pity chuckle at your bad attempt at a polite joke to ease the seemingly tense vibe between the two of you.

Okay, well he definitely seems to talk the way he texts.

Clearing your throat again, you tried once more.

“I’m (y/n) by the way, it’s nice to m-“

“I know your name.” He stopped at the table and turned to glance down at you over his shoulder, the tiniest of smirks resting on his face with raised eyebrows, before pulling out a seat to sit in.

Yeah, maybe being quiet for a bit would do you some good. You’ll try again later.

Still trying to shake the embarrassment, no humiliation at this point, you busied yourself with taking out all the proper materials and waiting while he did the same. Sitting patiently opposite of Tsukishima, you decided to finally get a good look at him. Take in what you see and make some judgements.

He shook off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair, showing you his wide shoulders underneath the simple grey t-shirt he wore. You didn’t fail to notice how the sleeves were cuffed, either.

Hm. Nice look.

Points for Tsukishima.

His hands and ears were slightly pink from the weather outside, contrastingly sweet against the paleness of his skin.

Kinda cute, in like a Keebler elf kind of way.

More points, you guess, for Tsukishima.

He sighed as he opened up the calculus ll textbook, adjusting his glasses with long and slender fingers before flipping through the pages. You decided it’d be best to do the same.

It was quiet for a moment too long when you thought it might be a good idea to try and speak again, but apparently he must’ve had the same idea.

“So, why d-“

“Thanks for-“

Cutting each other off, you pursed your lips as he gave you some emotionless stare, one of you waiting for the other to start back up again.

Andddd, another awkward beat of silence.

Jesus, this was gonna be the longest hour of your life.

—————————

AHHHHH HERES CHAPTER ONE - I promise the next one will be full of tsuki and tsuki content ok, I just had to get the ball rolling and really wanted to post smth!! I hope you guys like and please please leave your thoughts or anything in my ask box or anywhere!! I’d love to talk :D MWAH I also have little footnotes in my tags too :) (more like commentary but yeah)

taglist for series: @plutowrites @c0rncheez @ruetaro @daniagabriela48 @toyas-wife @devilkou @anime-and-kpop-trash (if you’d like to be added or removed let me know! And if ur crossed off tagging didn’t work!)

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Late Night Café ~ JJK [M] [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 4.9K

↬↬↬Genre: Prince!AU, Non!IDOL, SMUT, Fluffy

↬↬↬Pairing: Prince Jungkook x Fem!Reader

↬↬↬Warnings: Sex without contraception (wrap it before you tap It), cunnilingus,

"I don't think you understand the sincerity behind this Jungkook!" His mother slammed her hand down against the throne as her son treated this as though it was a joke to him but to him it was.

"What's the big deal? You're only going to set me up with someone I do not wish to be with so just get on with it." It was no secret that the Prince wasn't happy with the idea of an arranged marriage but if he wanted to take the throne and become King he had to marry before he turned 24 years old which was less then six months away. No time for him to find someone to fall in love with but plenty of time for his parents to force a marriage onto him where he would not be happy.

"Please Jungkook-"

"No. I don't want to talk about it anymore." He walked out of the throne room and away from his mother who was still calling out for him to stop but he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear another speech about how it was for the good of the Country and if he didn't do it there could be serious consequences, it was always the same lecture.

"Jungkook are you going to sneak out again tonight?" Taehyung - his personal guard asked him as they walked side by side through the stone castle, Jungkook chuckled at how scared Taehyung was about it but it was something Jungkook had mastered over the years. He was always sneaking out of the castle late at night, he'd dress up in normal clothes instead of the suit he always had to wear and then he'd walk around the streets acting like anyone else his age would.

"I am."

"Is there anything I can say or do to stop you?" Taehyung knew it was useless since there was nothing he could possibly do,

"Is there ever?" Jungkook teased as he reached his chambers within the castle, Taehyung sighed bowing and walking away from the doors.

Inside was a huge King sized bed with curtains around it, all draped down to cover the red silk sheets that were on the bed. The rest of the room was quite boring, books were along the walls but nothing that interested Jungkook, all of them were about his training, and royal history, he wasn't allowed anything exciting as it could distract him from his Royal duties as the Prince. Everyone thought that this life was perfect and easy but they were wrong being a prince was far from easy and far from perfect.

A rapid knocking sounded on his door and he ground lifting himself from the bed and going over to the door,

"Yes, Namjoon?" He asked the tutor that had been teaching him for the last 7 years,

"Assignments," He handed Jungkook a folder full of papers and smiled at him,

"I'll see them on my desk next week?" He nodded at the request knowing it was no good to say no to Namjoon, he took the folder into his room and threw it down onto his own desk flipping through the pages. He had no classes that afternoon so he saw no harm in starting to do some of the work he had ahead of him, it was all about the history of the palace, how his family had come into the power and then sections about the royal guards. Boring drabble that made him want to throw the folder out of the window.

Four knocks on his door meant that the guards were changing over, midnight he let out a breath of relief. Jimin - the second personal guard - would be taking over the night shift which meant he would be able to slip out easily and have Jimin cover for him while he wandered around outside of the palace walls for a while. He slipped into some jeans and a hoodie before heading out of the door to his room,

"You have ten minutes, run." Jimin handed him some cash and chuckled as Jungkook lifted up the hoodie hood and began sprinting in the direction of the guard exit within the palace, he had about ten minutes before the next one would come out of the door and see him.

Being in the town was a total bust there was nothing happening, it was a Monday night so everything was practically closed. The bars were empty and Jungkook was wondering about bored but even this was better than going back to the palace. He was about to give out on finding somewhere to sit when he saw a cafe with its lights still on, he walked up to the window to see you sitting on the counter reading from a book with a hot chocolate in your hand eyes glued onto the page you were reading from. He chuckled watching you as your eyebrows furrowed together clearly reading something you didn't like, the way you smiled as you turned over the page made Jungkook feel warm inside and before he knew it he was heading inside of the empty cafe.

The bell above the door made you jump up and look around your eyes landed on Jungkook and you almost slopped off the countertop.

"Are you open?" Even his voice sounded angelic to you but you were so lost by staring at him you hadn't been able to form a sentence yet, Jungkook felt his pulse quicken as you stared at him. For a second he thought you knew who he was - everyone did but whenever he came into down dressed down with his hair down no one seemed to be able to tell he was Prince Jungkook.

"Erm, open? Yes! Sorry!" You jumped down from the counter and left your book on the side so you could serve him without being distracted,

"Sorry, we don't get anyone at night," You laughed nervously taking out a notepad and pen,

"What can I get your sir?" He smiled walking closer to the counter, he pressed his palms against the marble and looked through the menu.

"What do you recommend?"

"My famous hot chocolate, it's not on the menu though."

"Famous?" He laughed looking at while raising his eyebrows, you nodded at him and smiled.

"I make it whenever there's no one here, it's an old recipe because between you and me..." You leant across the counter to whisper to him despite there being no one you both,

"The new machines scare me, I burnt myself once and then they put me on the night shift so I've not had to use one since." You laughed softly and Jungkook couldn't help but smile at how adorable you sounded, the way your throat made a wheezing sound as you sucked in some more air - it was too cute.

"Then I shall take a famous hot chocolate created by the amazing...Y/n." He read off your name tag and you smiled,

"My famous hot chocolate coming right up for?" He smiled at you,

"Jungkook-"

"Ah like the Prince, cute." You wrote down his order and went off to make it while making your self a fresh one at the same time. He looked down at the book you'd been reading and smiled, it was the same book his mother used to read to him as a kid,

"The little prince," He whispered picking it up and flicking through your copy of it, along the margins was small notes you'd made in pen and he read through them all. Analysing your handwriting as he went, it made him laugh that whenever you were angry about something happening inside of the book your penmanship would get a little rougher.

"You like the book too?" You asked while you waited for the milk to warm up, he jumped dropping the book down onto counter as you made him jump up in surprise.

"Sorry, I'm quiet and sneaky." You laughed it off and he chuckled along with you,

"I used to love it as a child."

"Do you read now?" You questioned going back over to the steamer and checking on the milk,

"Not as much as I'd like, I'm in a slump." He lied going over to a table in cafe and sitting himself down.

"Ah, I can give you some titles if you like?" He heard the familiar sound of whipped cream being sprayed from a can and he smiled,

"Please, if you don't mind."

"Of course," He glanced up hearing you closer to him this time and watched as you placed down a giant mug of hot chocolate in front of him, on top was a pile of whipped cream, marshmallows and a flake for a little extra taste.

"Enjoy," You went to walk away but he called out your name to stop you, he was intrigued by you and wanted to know more instead of letting you go back to your book just yet.

"Those books you recommend?" He questioned doing anything to make you stay there with him just for a few more minutes, being with you made him feel normal and not like the prince at all. It was refreshing to him to be around someone like you, someone he didn't have to worry about freaking out on him because he was the Prince.

After a week with you, Jungkook began to realise that the reason you didn't know he was the Prince was that you didn't pay close enough attention to it all, you never watched anything on the news to do with it because you would much rather be reading, doing some of your hobbies or sleeping. Over the last week, you'd lent Jungkook a lot of books - he'd explained that the job he worked he wasn't available to go out during the day so spent most of his nights awake.

"What did you think?" You asked as you slid him a hot chocolate, it had become customary every night for him to come by with the book you'd given him to read and talk to you about it.

"I don't like it, why would she fall for him? He's all types of bad for her." You'd given him twilight of all books. He'd mentioned never reading anything that wasn't factual books and you wanted to give him something on the plainer side as well as a little romance,

"Trust me, in midnight sun it all makes sense." You laughed sipping on your hot chocolate,

"Did you get around to any of the movies I suggested?" He glanced up and you and shook his head, he'd been dying to watch the movies you'd given to him but he never had the time during the day, with reading he could sneak it in between study sessions, practice and while he waited to sneak out but movies were harder.

"Not yet," You sighed scooping up some of the whipped cream from his cup on your finger and placed it into your mouth, he watched in awe the whole time. It would be a huge lie if he said he was attracted to you because he was, very attracted to you in a strong way.

"You'll have to come over one day and we can watch a series together, there's this horror...one I've been dying to show someone." He frowned as you trailed off and stared out of the window, he followed your gaze to see Jimin and Taehyung standing around they were dressed in regular clothes but he knew they were there for him but he continued to ignore them and act as though he had no idea who they were.

"Friends of yours?" You laughed looking at them as they stared at Jungkook and you together,

"Something like that." He mumbled looking down at the hot chocolate, it would be a shame to waste it now so he just held up his hand to them, signalling that he'd be two minutes.

"They don't look happy they have to wait," You whispered feeling slightly disheartened that he was going to leave again, he sighed looking at you.

"I'm not happy that I have to leave, we all have to make sacrifices sometimes." He tied to laugh it off but he was really upset about all of this he could already feel himself falling for you which was bad since he would have to be away from you very soon.

"I'll be back tomorrow, we can talk all about those movies you want to watch with me." He smiled at you taking your hand in his, you felt a jolt in your body as he touched you. Before you knew it he was leaning across the table and leaving a small and gentle kiss on your lips.

"See you tomorrow," He whispered running his thumb along your bottom lip and leaving you alone with the book he'd borrowed and the half drank hot chocolate in front of you.

The Queen tapped her foot as she looked at her son,

"You were spotted kissing her, so who is she?" Jungkook rolled his eyes, Jimin and Taehyung hadn't been there when the kiss had happened so it was evident that she'd had someone else following him for the last week.

"Assuming I'm correct you'd had us followed for a week so why don't you tell me who she is mother," His tone was coming out like a bratty teenager who was being caught in a lie and was being told off but he didn't care. He knew what his mother was about to do and he wasn't happy about it,

"You won't be seeing her anymore, I'm stepping up your security so no more sneaking out." She straightened up and watched as Jungkook scoffed her before leaving the great hall, slamming the doors behind him as he left her alone there.

"Was I too harsh?" She asked Yoongi who was standing beside her, he looked down at the floor.

"No your highness, he needs to learn the rules are there to be followed." But she couldn't help but feel bad for him, she knew what it was like to be in love with someone you could never have and she swore never to let her own child go through that and yet here she was doing the same thing her father did to her.

"Follow him, make sure he's in his chambers." She mumbled to Seokjin and Hoseok who was standing by the doors, they nodded and walked out without another word to the Queen.

Three nights in a row and Jungkook was a no show, you were starting to think he regretted kissing you and that was why he hadn't come back.

"Another night another disappointment." You whispered to yourself as you waited for the next waitress to come and take over,

"There's some dude outside for you, said he's ready for the movie marathon?" Your heart raced hearing those words,

"I cleaned, I've done everything, see you tonight!" You threw down your apron and rushed outside to the street to see Jungkook leaning against the alleyway wall, his head was hanging low as he pulled the hoodie up over his head.

"Movies?" You laughed walking up to him, he looked up at you to make sure you were you before he took your hand in his.

"Lead the way. I'm sorry I haven't been here...I was caught up at work." He lied trying to ignore the pounding in his chest as he held your hand for the first time in three days, being away from you was hurting him a lot. The idea of never seeing you again pained him so he'd slipped Seokjin and Hoseok a sleeping pill each before leaving out of his balcony door and climbing down the drainpipe.

"It's fine, I'm glad you're back." You smiled walking towards your apartment building still holding onto Jungkook's hand as you walked together, he was casually swinging your arms back and forth.

"Are they scary horror films then?" He questioned as you unlocked the front door to the apartment building, you giggled at how nervous he sounded about it.

"No Kookie, they're just a little Gorey," You promised him though that if he got scared he could hold onto you through them,

"Can I hold onto you through them anyway?" He whispered as you reached your front door, your back was against the wooden door but you nodded while staring into his eyes.

"Y-Yes."

You phoned into work that night taking a sick day so you could continue your time with Jungkook, he faked a phone call to his work and came back to you.

"So which film is next?" He questioned sitting down next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, over the day you'd grown more and more comfortable around one another, stealing kisses and glances whenever you could and now it was as if you'd known him forever.

"I'm going to get you into the lord of the rings movies, you're going to love them," He chuckled watching as you got excited over the idea of him loving a movie with you, he stared at the side of your face as you flicked through the channels with the remote in your hand.

"What?" You laughed feeling his hand brush the hair out of your face,

"I just wanted to see your beautiful face again." He laughed leaning across and kissing your cheek softly, you put the remote down after clicking play and turned to look at him.

"Do it again," You whispered turning your head so he would kiss your cheek but at the last second, you turned your head connecting your lips. The same sparks you'd felt the first time came rushing out of you, your heart began to pound as he kissed you lovingly. His hands moving to cup either side of your face as you struggled to get into a comfortable position on the sofa.

"Come here," He chuckled lifting you up and sitting you down onto his lap so he could kiss you better, you giggled bending down to connecting your lips once again, whining out when he ran his hands down your spine.

The makeout session began to grow in heat and he pulled off his shirt revealing his toned body, you bit down on your lip running your finger down his abs as he took off your shirt next as you went to hide your body he shook his head at you.

"You're gorgeous, don't hide from me." He gently kissed you again standing up, you screamed into the kiss wrapping your legs around his waist as he began walking towards the bedroom laying you down against the sheets.

"Are you sure you want this?" You questioned when you watched him slowly begin to undo your pants,

"I've never been so sure about something in my life, are you?" You nodded your head desperately not caring about how desperate you looked. Anyone would be a fool to resist Jungkook right now.

"Need you." You whispered pulling him down into a kiss while your hands massaged his already hard member through the fabric of his jeans, he let out a low grunt as you finally came into contact with him and you smirked hearing him. You couldn't wait to hear more.

Sinking to his knees in front of you he began to kiss up to your thigh, letting his fingers run between your folds as he teased you a little wanting to get you riled up before he'd even entered you.

"J-Jungkook," You begged for him to do something, anything except this constant teasing and he chuckled blowing air onto your clit and smirking as you wiggled under his breath.

"So cute when you're needy Y/n." He slowly pushed two of his fingers into you knuckles deep holding them in place so you could feel him just below your g-spot, you began rocking yourself on his fingers but he pinned your hips down to the bed.

"No baby, let me do the work." The nickname sent shivers down your spine, he hadn't called you anything except for your name yet and that nickname made you needier for him.

"Then do the work," You hissed at him, frantic for him to move his fingers in and out of you. Once he did your head rolled back against the mattress making you cry out his name feeling him spreading his fingers a little each time he thrust them into you, curling them whenever he heard you moan in a way he liked.

"So sensitive," He whispered kissing your clit slowly sending your brain into a fog,

"I wonder-" He cut himself off by licking stripes up and down your clit as he continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you, increasing your moans as if you were an instrument he was playing.

"F-Fuck!" You whimpered hands going out to either side of you on the bed and clutching onto the sheets around you, you clenched around his fingers as he began to suck on your clit, occasionally removing his fingers from your core and dipping his tongue into you.

"S-Shit! Jungkook please!" You begged for him to keep going, your eyes rolling back as you could feel your orgasm beginning to build the more he ate you out like that on the bed.

"You wanna cum Princess? You wanna cum on my fingers?" You nodded frantically and he chuckled returning his mouth to your over-sensitive clit and hummed on you edging you all the more.

"Cum." He ordered darkly continuing the rough movement of his fingers, your eyes screwed shut as you cried out his name loud enough for the neighbours to hear you coming down from your first high of the night.

As you went to sink down onto your knees he brought you back up, kissing you softly,

"No baby, if you suck me off I'll blow right here, j-just lay down okay?" You nodded at him and kissed him again, kissing down his jawline and sucking on the exposed skin and he groaned laying you down against the bed and lining himself up at your entrance.

"P-Please," You whimpered looking him in the eyes, he smiled taking your hand in his as he slowly eased himself into you groaning out at how tight you were around him. He stayed still for a moment, letting you both adjust to the new feeling, if he were to move now he wouldn't last long at all.

"S-Shit you're so fucking tight." He mumbled against your lips kissing you as he slowly began to move in and out of you,

"S-So big." You mumbled back to him making him chuckle as you wrapped your legs around his waist begging him to move faster which he gladly accepted, moving your left leg around his shoulder and angling himself deeper into you.

Heavy grunting and loud moaning filled the room as he pushed in and out of you at a ruthless pace looking into your eyes as you cried out his name,

"Don't stop!" You begged, holding onto his face as you kissed him roughly begging for him not to stop. He was filling you up in ways you'd never felt before and you didn't ever want it to finish,

"I won't baby I won't." He chuckled moving his hand down between you and rubbing your clit, you throbbed around his length making him groan as you got tighter around him. You were letting out loud whines and whimpers that were bringing him closer to his release, he'd imagined you like this beneath him all week, imagining the way you would sound when you called out his name and moaned it loudly for everyone to hear.

"Jungkook!" You ran your fingernails down his back as he pushed himself deeper into you, it was as if something took over him then. He began to get rougher with his hip movements, snapping into you relentlessly as he felt his high drawing closer to him.

"C-Close." You whimpered to him looking into his eyes,

"M-Me too," He added glad that you were close, he didn't want to be the guy to cum without making you cum first, he let out a shaky breath as he pushed you further onto the bed and put your leg around his waist again.

"F-Fuck...Squeeze me-ugh- like that again babe." He begged you as you wrapped your legs around him pulling him deeper into you, he groaned loudly feeling you do that whenever he thrust into you.

"Jungkook I-I can't hold it a-anymore." You whispered to him and he chuckled leaning down to kiss you, kissing from your lips up to your ears.

"Cum around me baby, cum all over me like a good girl." At the mention of you being a good girl you lost control, your hips bucked up and your legs shook as white took over your vision. Sending you over the edge as you cried out his name, a warmth spreading through you as you came around him.

"S-Shit! J-Jungkook I love you!" You cried out loudly hips bucking wildly as you felt him twitch inside of you pulling out and spilling onto your stomach with a few pumps of his hand,

"I love you too." He whispered looking into your eyes as you both laid there panting heavily to one another.

You screamed as the door to your bedroom was kicked open and guns were aimed at you, Jungkook wrapped his arms around you covering you with the sheets. You were panicked while he looked calm about all of this happening around him,

"Mother," You stared at Jungkook as he watched the Queen walking into your room, you knew she was the Queen because of the crown she had on her head and the way she carried herself as she walked into the room.

"M-Mother?!" Your voice cracked as you asked him that, your eyes danced around to each of the guards who were now putting their guns away and standing to attention. Two of them were the boys who had been outside the cafe the last night Jungkook had come to see you.

"At ease, Jimin and Tae stay, the rest of you out." She ordered and all of them left without questioning it, Jungkook was still holding you close to keep you clothed.

"Can you give us a moment?" He questioned looking from his mother to you, you hadn't spoken a word yet and you wouldn't meet his gaze, you just stared at the bed waiting for them to leave you both alone.

"You have five minutes."

When you both emerged from the bedroom the Queen was sitting on your sofa, Jungkook had tried talking to you but you couldn't reply back to him. You hadn't been able to think of a single thing to say to him yet,

"Would you like some tea?" You asked the Queen, bowing a little as she made eye contact with you.

"No thank you, I heard you make a nice hot chocolate but it is neither the time nor the place for that." She stated, looking at you up and down trying to determine if you were good for her son or not but she could already tell that you were, you stopped bowing and stared at the floor.

"I wanted to come and see who was making my son so happy, over the last week he's smiled a lot, it's the first time I've seen him like this since his father died so it's rather refreshing." You looked at Jungkook who was nervously staring at you already, he was trying to figure out if you were okay with everything happening around you.

"I didn't know he was a Prince, your highness-"

"That's okay, he should have told you." She raised herself from the sofa and walked closer to Jungkook.

"I expect to see you home tonight and at dinner, bring her along." She told him looking over at you and smiling brightly,

"We'll figure out a way around the arrangement, I'll speak to Yoongi and the council." She meant the Royal council that had been the ones to decide he needed to marry royalty before becoming King, seeing the way he was with you really made her change her mind on this. Deciding that he needed to be happy,

"I see that you would give it up for her...I'll see what I can do." He thanked her and bowed as she left your apartment.

"Prince Huh?" You asked nervously and he laughed softly at your reaction, he was nervous that now you knew the truth you would start to treat him differently but you seemed okay.

"Do I have to call you your highness now?" You whispered as you walked over to him wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, Taehyung and Jimin were still in the apartment with you watching your every move.

"Only in the bedroom," He winked bending down to kiss you but you groaned pushing him away and looking at his personal guards.

"Do you want hot chocolate?" Jungkook acted offended as you offered them the famous hot chocolate that he'd come to you for.

"That's my hot chocolate," He mumbled watching as you walked into your kitchen getting ready to make everyone a cup he was just thrilled your feelings towards him didn't change when you found out he was the Prince. 

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies​ @snowy-meowl​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​

[out-of-jams]

Across the Board || i || kth

(banner done by the great @kimtaehyunq )

↠ Across the Board ↞ You’d hit a low point in life. With bills piling up and your bank account empty, you were starting to get desperate. So when you got the invite to your oldest friend’s birthday party being hosted at the most popular underground casino in town, what did you possibly have to lose? You took what little you had left in your savings, put your card skills to use, and entered a private blackjack game.

And you’d won. And went back for more, and more, and more.

Until you lost.

And now you’re indebted to the city’s most dangerous mob boss, forced to pay your dues in blood one way or another. With a gun pushed into your hands and your life at stake; once you’re in, you’re in. You’ll never get out.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings/Genre: Set in the Roaring 20s! Gambling. Mature themes. Mafia!au. Mafia Don!Taehyung. Violence. Law breaking. Alcohol use. Death of minor characters. Explicit language. Enemies to lovers. Short series. 18+

                              || Next | Masterlist | |

Danger.

It was a word right up there alongside the definition for the term “stupidity.” While not next to each other in the dictionary, they were close enough that your brain was unable to pick out the subtle differences. Perhaps you’d just always had a habit for screwing your life up, or maybe it was just genetics. Who knew?

You should have listened to the warnings, should have stopped yourself before you got in too deep. Hell, you should have done a lot of things. But you had no one to blame for your current situation except for yourself. However, if you’d learned anything throughout your twenty-two short years of life, it was that life lessons didn’t mean jack if you didn’t get yourself into messes into the first place.

Though staring down the barrel of a revolver sure was a funny way of going about it.

The air in the dimly lit back corner room was tense enough to hear the sound of a casino chip fall to the ground somewhere beyond the shut door. None of the six men sitting around the round, green felted table spoke a word. Their attention — and yours, consequently — was fixed on the single man in the room who barely even batted an eye at the clear panic evident on your face.

He sat on the opposite side of you; the scowl pulling down his bow shaped lips and the narrowing of his fierce gaze had fear chilling your veins. That man was much like an exotic animal; beautiful beyond belief, but dangerous right beneath the surface. A carnivore staring down his prey. The single light above the table threw his shadow against the wall as he casually aimed his pistol right between your eyes.

“You were saying, dollface?”

His neatly parted, straight black hair fell across his face when he leaned forward as if the next words out of your mouth would seal your fate. Not that the thought of having to have your blood cleaned from the expensive carpet beneath his expensive shoes seemed to bother him in the slightest. In fact, he’d look almost bored if it weren’t for the dangerous gleam behind his espresso irises.

“I—” You cut yourself off, swallowing roughly and glancing back down at the table. A depleted deck of cards sat in the center, two hands laid out on the surface. One was yours — a ten of diamonds and a ten of clubs — and the other his. A red ace of spades and a black jack of hearts.

You were out of money.

Having bet more than you possessed, you were also out of chances.

“It’s simple. You owe me money as promised,” his deep, baritone voice spoke up casually over the noise of your heart beating through your chest. “Either hand it over, or you won’t be leaving this room alive. Your choice.”

You closed your eyes for a moment too long to be called a blink, and cursed yourself for ever getting into this situation.

                           One Month Ago

Final Notice of Payment

Ms. L/n,

This is a reminder that you have a balance of $20.54 that is past due. Please make a one time payment no later than—

“Oh, please.” The bill enclosed envelope hit the top of the small, circular dining room table. Or was it the kitchen table? It was hard to tell, seeing as how they were one and the same.

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back against the creaky wooden chair, fingers massaging your temples. That was the third bill you’d come across that morning and every single one of them was the final notice of payment. The last warning they’d give before sending someone to collect what was owed.

It hadn’t always been like that. You hadn’t always been in such an insurmountable amount of debt, not until recently. Two months ago your mother, the last bit of family you had left, died. Passed away clinging to the sheets of the hospital bed she’d been laid up in for the past half a year. Cancer, the doctors had said. From all of the cigarettes she’d burned through in the past decade or so.

Irrecoverable, they’d said.

No amount of “sorry’s” or meaningless condolences could fix the massive amount of money that the hospital billed you. Or the debt that your mother left behind, along with her slim-boned corpse that you’d had to bury in the corner of the city cemetery. Perhaps if you’d known who your father was, you could’ve laid her to rest in the space next to his own, but you didn’t. Weren’t fortunate enough to.

Bills had piled up. Rent for the tiny studio apartment the two of you had shared was demanded by the pigeon-toed old woman who owned the rundown, overpriced building. Her husband had passed away two years ago and ever since then, she’d been relentless. She pounded on your door at approximately eight in the morning everyday, shouting through the thin wood that you had until the week was up to pay what was owed. Otherwise you’d be tossed out onto the street with only the clothes on your back.

Combined with the utility bill and the fact that you still had to come up with the dough to feed yourself, you were trapped. The meagre pennies you got from your waitressing job at the diner three blocks away weren’t nearly enough. Nothing would be enough. Not unless you wanted to sell your body on the street corners in the late of night.

Which you didn’t. And you wouldn’t. You’d be more likely to end up dead in a ditch somewhere with your throat cut than out of debt. The city wasn’t safe for women, less so by those men who saw prostitutes as no more than an object to relieve stress onto. And you refused to become another headline in the paper.

Tossing the opened envelope across the table, you paused when familiar handwriting caught your eye on top of the rest of the mail pile. Addressed to you in a curling script that only ever came from someone who could afford a private tutor. You sighed, carefully sliding a knife along the top to slice it open. A waft of sweet, cherry scented perfume filled your tiny kitchen and you almost rolled your eyes at the unnecessary addition.

Jennie, your oldest friend since high school, always had an inclination for the unnecessary. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth and a gold digger for a mother, she’d had nothing else to waste her time on. How you’d even gotten on as friends with such a gap between tax brackets was still a mystery to you. Maybe it was because she’d always used her wealth and status to get the two of you out of trouble. Whether it was from breaking into the school late at night to get wasted in the halls with the rest of her friends, or to get away with slipping things from the corner store into your dress pockets.

She’d always been a rule breaker.

Which was exactly why when you read the contents of the letter, a laugh tumbled from your mouth. It was an invitation to celebrate her upcoming twenty-third birthday in three day’s time. That wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, however, if it weren’t for the location. There wasn’t an exact address, there never was. Just a thin piece of cardboard the size of your hand that fell from the envelope. A playing card — a red ace. One that looked normal except for the center that had the name of a restaurant in the heart of the most rich part of downtown printed on it.

It was a ticket to the most popular underground casino in the whole city. No one knew how to get one, how to get your name onto the list that only catered to the rich and powerful. Located beneath a restaurant, it had grown to be infamous almost overnight since gambling and alcohol was outlawed. Even the coppers knew well enough to leave the establishment alone.

The only way to gain entrance was by flashing a ticket to one of the restaurant staff. That was what you’d heard, at least. You had no idea how May had managed to secure one, let alone enough to cover what you knew would be a large party of her closest friends.

Flicking the corner of the card, you couldn’t believe your luck.

Your mother hadn’t taught you very many things, had been too busy gossiping with her friends over a carton of cigarettes to bother. What she had passed down, however, was her ability to draw cards. To play blackjack with the best of them. That’d been the only thing she’d ever bothered to teach you; when she’d had too many sips of wine and her eyes had glazed over with memories of the life she used to live. 

She’d sit you down and make you memorize the names and faces of the cards until you could count them forward and backwards. Could predict what card would be drawn and when. Where she’d learned it, she’d never told you. But that didn’t matter now. Couldn’t, seeing as she was dead and all.

Grinning, you flopped back into your chair.

Maybe you’d be able to pay off your debts after all.

And you had. Paid off your debt, that is.

After clearing out your savings account of the last fifteen dollars you had left to your name, you’d dolled yourself up and gone with Jennie and her friends. Had left the group of flappers tittering and groaning drunk at the line of slot machines at the back of the casino. Calls of bets being placed, dough exchanging for chips, and illegal cocktails pouring into glasses played as a soundtrack.

None of the card tables scattered across the underground establishment held what you’d been looking for. Neither roulette, nor craps, nor slots. The bartender had been the one to tell you where the real games were, where the cash was. A door down a tiny back hallway led to a room where private games were held. If you managed to win at one, he’d told you, then you’d win not only the pot, but an invitation to come back and play again.

Which had been an opportunity that you just couldn’t pass up. No matter the risk.

You’d won.

And now you were addicted.

To the money, the lifestyle, the adrenaline that shot through your veins like a particularly harsh sip of gin. Which was exactly why you’d gone back. Again, and again, and again, every single week for the past month. It wasn’t your fault that it was so easy. So simple to swindle your way into getting your name permanently written down on the entry list.

Oh, and the men.

It was a different group every week, but they weren’t all that dissimilar from one another. They’d sit there and smoke their cigars and drink their whiskey, all while silently mocking you with their eyes. Like they thought they were better than you just because they had a dick between their legs.

You were addicted to that too.

To watching the way their faces would fall in disbelief every single time you cleared the pot and took their money. And how their voices would raise in pitch with their countless complaints about how some lowly broad conned them out of their pocket change. Because that’s all that money was to people like them.

Change.

They were rich. You could tell by the custom suits they wore, the cologne they bathed in, the way they carried themselves. The money they gambled with always had a cap, a max amount that they were willing to bet. And the games never got too crazy, didn’t escalate once they lost to you. Which was a shame really, because you wanted more. Craved more. More of what, you weren’t too sure, but the high that playing brought only lasted so long until you came crashing back down.

Which was exactly when fate decided to change the routine.

“Here to play again, miss?” Felix, the same teenage boy who always manned the door to the gambling room, asked with a slight tilt of his head. His light brunette hair was tucked beneath a bowler hat, different from the usual fedora. Back to the door, he was standing up straight instead of his normal slouch. And the way his mouth was taught around the edges was out of the ordinary as well.

The boy didn’t have a cigarette clenched between his teeth, which should have been enough to set off the bells in your head. But it didn’t. Because you were too bullheaded, had gotten too cocky in the terms of things.

“You know me too well, Felix.” You reached out a hand to pat the lanky boy on his suit clad arm lightly, a smile pulling up at your red painted lips. “Is the usual table ready?”

The volume in the casino wasn’t as loud either, nor were there quite as many patrons. But you’d just chalked that up to the heavy rain pounding a path into the concrete outside. Though the lack of customers did nothing to eliminate the permanent smell of cigarette smoke that lingered, hidden in the walls beneath the fancy looking wallpaper.

“I don’t know if you want to play today, miss.” Felix glanced away from you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You blamed the flickering light in the corner of the hall for the way his freckles stood out amongst his slowly paling cheeks.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer. Not at first. Silence lingered in the hall, drowning in the soft jazz music coming from the band on the stage near the back of the joint. It took the raising of your other brow for the underaged boy to finally answer.

“It’s just not a good day for gambling.”

Now that had you leaning forward until you could finally catch his flighty gaze, voice hushed in a playful whisper. “Oh really, how so? Is there a stool-pigeon running about somewhere? Should we be expecting the coppers to come kicking down the door any minute?”

“No. I—”

“Then why can’t I play, Felix?” You were starting to get irritated. The week had been long and you were ready to forget about it all for the next few hours. Buried beneath the weight of a handful of cards and glass full of gin.

Either Felix could see your growing impatience, or there really was something he was hiding, because he stepped even further in front of the door. “You don’t want to play with this group, miss. They aren’t as welcoming as the others are. It’d be best if you just went home.”

“You ca—”

“And what’s going on back here?” That wasn’t Felix’s voice and neither was it yours. You whipped around, surprised at the new addition.

The man behind you had honey brown hair parted and styled carefully until it was brushed back away from his heart-shaped face. Though some of it still hung in front of a single, dark eye. His other was uncovered, a scar running through his eyebrow and cutting it in half. Everything about him was angular, sharp. From his jawline to the slope of his nose and the corners of his full lips.

One look and you already pegged him for a cake-eater, a ladies man, if you’d ever seen one. Hell, he even dressed like he came right off the front cover of one of those Time magazines that littered the newspaper stands on every street corner. With a navy blue suit and perfect, unscuffed shoes.

“No, sir,” Felix attempted to pull the man’s attention from you unsuccessfully. “The missus here was just leaving.”

The Stranger hummed, tilting his head to study you with those sharp eyes of his. “Were you, bunny? Just leaving?”

You couldn’t help the twitch of your nose at the unfavorable nickname, squaring your shoulders and crossing your arms with a scoff. “No, I wasn’t. I want to play a few rounds, you see, but he won’t let me.”

Perhaps you should have felt bad for ratting out the kid, but you didn’t. Especially not when the Stranger huffed a laugh, a distinct ha-ha-ha! in amusement. Though there was something else in his eyes that you couldn’t name. Didn’t want to acknowledge. “You want to play a hand of blackjack, is that right?”

“Ab-so-lute-ly.” You raised an eyebrow at the man and waved a hand through the air. “I can play.”

“Oh,” He asked, taking a step closer until you had to crane your neck back to meet his imploring gaze. “Playing isn’t cheap.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I can pay too.”

He must have been waiting for that answer if the smirk that pulled at his lips was any indication. And he finally, finally broke eye contact to wave aside the boy behind you. “Well, did the dame make herself clear or not? She wants to play.”

You happened to turn just in time to catch the alarm that flickered across Felix’s face as he stepped to the side to reveal the door behind him. Felix reached out with a ringed hand to twist the brass knob of the door. It swung open without a sound and he gave you a quick, wide-eyed stare filled with a warning you couldn’t interpret, before looking away.

“Well?” The Stranger questioned from over your shoulder. You could smell his cologne now; husky with a hint of sweet orange.

His words were an invitation if you’d ever heard one. And you didn’t want to look like a bluenose, a prude, so you stepped inside without hesitation. Though perhaps you should have taken Felix’s unspoken warning, for you had no idea just what it was that you were walking into.

Inside the cramped room was filled with a haze of cigar smoke, which wasn’t unusual at all. What was, however, was the group of six men sitting at the circular table as you rounded the corner with the Stranger at your back. They were beautiful, all of them. A huge contrast to the usual rabble that came to play. Hell, even underneath the dim light you couldn't spot a single flaw on them.

No one noticed your entrance at first.  

Well, at least not until the Stranger cleared his throat. “Gentleman.”

His greeting sounded like it toed somewhere on the line between amusement and respect.

All movement in the room came to a halt as six men looked up from where they’d been bent over the blackjack table. If you’d been a little less prideful and a lot more careful, then perhaps the overbearing confidence that bled from their pores would have given you pause. But as it was, you stood standing, back straight and head held high. Even while their eyes roamed your figure like tigers behind a cage at the zoo right before feeding time.

A pause hovered in the air, lingering with a tension that crawled onto your skin. What seemed like hours passed merely in seconds before it was broken.

“And who’s this?” The question came from the fella who sat in the chair closest to where you stood. He was turned around with his arm propped up on the back of it, head tilted to the side in curiosity. His hair was styled similar to the Stranger’s, though his was darker and the gel pushed through the strands made it gleam silver beneath the dim lamp that hung above the table.

High cheekbones and skin the same color as molten honey, his jaw worked around a piece of gum stuck between his teeth. A smirk pulled up at the corner of his mouth, dark eyes glittering with a touch of interest. With a black and white suit that complimented the shade of his hair, the man was nothing if not a billboard: flashy. Handsome.

“I found bunny here outside arguing with Felix. Something about wanting to play a few rounds of blackjack. Isn’t that right?” The Stranger placed a heavy palm between your shoulder blades. What might have been intended to come off as comforting, only succeeded in making you feel the opposite. Like you were being put on display.

You didn’t let it show on your face. “That’s right.”

“Oh?” Gum Chewer’s smirk grew broader at that, but he said nothing else. Just leaned back in his chair.

“What do you say, should we let her play?” Blond hair, pink kissable lips and dangerous, dangerous eyes. The slim man sitting next to Gum Chewer was attractive in a pretty way that made you envious of his easy-on-the-eyes looks.

While the question may have been asked to the whole room, none of them answered it. Instead they looked towards one of the men sitting in the middle who had yet to speak. If you’d thought the rest of them were a sight for sore eyes, well, they had nothing on him. How your attention hadn’t been drawn to him the moment you walked through the door, you didn’t know.

He wasn’t even looking at you and you already felt tongue-tied. Busying himself with shuffling the cards in his hands against the green felt table, the expensive looking rings adorning his slender fingers caught your eye. He was what your mother would’ve called a timeless beauty. The type of handsome that meant he could walk the streets of the city in nothing but a sack and he’d have women throwing themselves at his feet.

Hair the same shade as a moonless sky made him look intimidating, like he belonged to the shadows themselves. A straight nose, cupid bow lips and long eyelashes that would make any broad jealous; he gave off the type of power that could make even the bravest of men cower at his feet. The longer he took to respond, the more the room grew still. As if your fate was in the hands of a man who’s name you didn’t even know.

Though perhaps it was.

A muffled thud echoed throughout the room as he tapped the deck of cards against the table once, twice, before sliding them over to the fella to his left. Plucking up the glass of scotch in front of him, he finally looked up. And graced you with the prettiest chocolate brown eyes you’d ever seen.

“What’s your name, dollface?”

tagged: @bewitch-me​  @jxngkooksthxghs​   @kaitswrld​  @clarissalance​  @namurkive​ @ifntelyinspirit​  @kotaevln​  @red--aren  @ggukkieland​  @moonlitmyg​  @i-like-puppy-mg​  @aianloveseven​  @drumsofheaven​  @figurativehoe00​ @wonhoandonly​ @wacdon​ @hear-me-growl​ @milaridez7 @1088x1088​ @alana-ba​ @vlntaeg​

[just-dreaming-marvel]

I’m From Brooklyn, Too ~ 143

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

I’M FROM BROOKLYN, TOO MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,785ish

Summary: The plan is finalized and the team begins to get the Stones.

Warning: tread carefully and don’t hate me

Notes: You must read Out Of Time in order to understand this. The chapter numbers continue from Out Of Time. (gifs aren’t mine)

Y/N woke up in the morning, tucked into her bed. Alone. It wasn’t all that surprising, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. She slowly got ready for the day and met everyone out in the conference room. She sat away from the group as they began to go over the Tesseract and the Mind Stone. The original Avengers, except Y/N and Thor, talked about the two Stones together, having shared experiences with both Stones.

“Y/N,” Steve called. “Anything to add?”

She rubbed her hand nervously. “Nope,” she responded, clearly not okay. “You guys covered it all.” She stood up. “You guys continue, I’m just going to go get some air.”

Y/N quickly left, leaving the others to share worried glances. She made her way to her bedroom and out to the balcony. Sitting down on one of the chairs, she put her head in her hands.

“Hey,” Steve greeted, coming to sit beside her. “You okay?”

“No,” Y/N responded. She bit her bottom lip and looked up at the sky. “I… I’ve screwed everything up.”

“What? How?”

“I’m still in love with Bucky… and Tony knows.”

“Y/N, I—“

“Don’t say anything, Steve. Nothing you can say could make this any better. I’m in love with Bucky. And I’ve ruined my daughter’s family. And you’re angry at me for keeping secrets, which you don’t even know the half of.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I-I can’t… I can’t do this right now.” She stood up, Steve following.

“No. I need an explanation.”

“You need an explanation? Well I need a break. Can we just go back in there and focus on the task at hand? We need to finish going through everything before I decide to run home and never leave my child’s side again.”

“You can’t just ignore this.”

“Oh, I can. And I have been for years. There’s nothing more you can say, Steve, to make me say anything else.” The twins stared each other down. “Drop it, Steve. We should go back inside before people start doubting me more than they are.”

Steve huffed and left for where the others were. Y/N took her time going from the balcony and into her bedroom. Tony was there when she walked in.

“I heard,” he commented. “He’ll come around.”

“No he won’t,” Y/N said. “I’ve broken his trust. Just like I have yours.”

“Y/—“

“You don’t have to lie, Tony. I know that I hurt, too.”

Tony sighed. “That’s true. But that doesn’t mean I won’t fight side by side with you until I can’t anymore.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s true.” He waltzed over and offered her his hand. “Let’s stick together, shall we?” Y/N took his hand and Tony pulled her up. 

~~~

The team has spent a majority of the day listening to everyone talk about the Stones. They had also tried to piece together a final plan, but they were struggling to do so. Y/N was with a majority of the team in the kitchen and dining area when Tony, Natasha, and Bruce came rushing in.

“There’s 3 Stones in New York!” Natasha exclaimed.

“What?” Steve questioned, furrowed brows.

“In 2012, during the Battle of New York,” Bruce began explaining, “there was the Space Stone, the Mind Stone, and the Time Stone.”

“Holy shit,” Y/N gasped.

“We’ve figured it out,” Tony said, smiling proudly at Y/N. “We’re going to get them back.”

“Did you happen to figure out a plan?” Steve wondered.

“We did,” Natasha said.

The plan and assignments were quickly given out and explained. 

2012 - New York City

Mind Stone: Steve

Space Stone: Clint, Natasha, and Scott

Time Stone: Bruce

2013 - Asgard

Reality Stone: Thor and Rocket

2014 - Morag and Vormir

Power Stone: Nebula and Rhodey

Soul Stone: Tony and Y/N

“Alright, we have a plan,” Steve said after everything was discussed. “Six Stones, three teams. One shot. Get some rest and we’ll meet up bright and early in the morning.”

Everyone nodded and broke off to go do their own things. Tony came over and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s temple. 

“I’ll meet you in our room,” he whispered. “I have something I want to do before.”

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine. Go call Morgan and I’ll catch up.” 

He gave her one last forehead kiss before heading off. Y/N began making her way to her room when Steve stepped in front of her.

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“Can I trust you?” Steve asked, gruffly.

“What?”

“You’ve been keeping secrets, still are. I need to know that I can trust you to successfully do the job that needs to be done.”

“You can’t be serious, Steve.”

“I am very serious.”

“I can’t even believe you right now. You really doing this now? After everything?”

“I just need to know that I can trust you. You have secrets and your secrets have secrets, and I know that I don’t even know everything yet. And I’m your brother.”

“You have secrets too, Steve. But why am I getting all the heat? One of your secrets even forced me on the run and was one of the causes of my miscarriage. Yet you don’t see me pushing you about it. Let it all go.” She turned around. “I’ll get the job done, Captain. I always do.”

~~~

“I’m so glad you had fun today, Mo!” Y/N smiled at her daughter on the screen. “That makes me so happy.”

“Are you and daddy having fun?” She asked, sitting up more in her bed.

“Always,” Tony answered loudly, coming into the room and sitting at Y/N’s side.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, sweetheart! You being good?”

“Of course!” She giggled. “When are you two coming home?”

“Soon, sweetheart, soon.”

“Hopefully just a few more days,” Y/N clarified. 

“I miss you guys!”

“We miss you too, honey.”

“It’s bedtime though,” Tony said. “We love you and we will talk to you tomorrow.”

“Love you 3000!”

Y/N hung up and began nervously twirling her phone in her hand. Tony could tell that she was nervous about tomorrow. He moved so that he was sitting in front of her.

“We’re going to be fine,” he said.

“You don’t know that,” she responded quietly, avoiding eye contact.

“No, I don’t.” Tony moved so that he was in her line of sight. “But I do know that both of us will do whatever we have to, to get the Stone and come back to Morgan.”

She met his gaze with teary eyes. “I’m terrified.”

He grabbed her hand. “I know.” 

He leaned in, kissing Y/N softly and yet passionately all at once. She quickly kissed back, moving her hands to hold onto the back of his neck. Together, they moved so that Y/N was lying down and Tony was over her.

“Are you okay with this?” Y/N whispered against Tony’s lips.

“Of course,” he replied. “We might not come back tomorrow, right?”

“Right.”

“Let’s live like it’s our last night.”

~~~

Everyone was suited up and had their needed gear before they headed to the platform. They all headed onto it as Bruce stopped at the control panel.

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us,” Steve began a speech. “We lost friends… We lost family… We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn't mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win.” Tony and Steve gave each other a look. “Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

“He’s pretty good at that,” Rocket made a comment to Scott.

“Right?” Scott responded, excitedly.

“Alright. You heard the man. Stroke those keys, jolly green,” Tony said.

“Tractors engaged,” Bruce informed.

Rocket came over and handed his shrunken ship, the Benatar, to Tony. “You promise to bring that back in one piece, right?” Rocket questioned.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Ratchet,” Tony responded. “I’ll do my best.”

“As promises go, that was pretty lame.”

Everyone was in their place as the center of the platform opened. Natasha turned to Tony and smiled.

“See you in a minute,” she said. 

Tony gave a small smile back before they all shrunk and entered the Quantum Realm. Rhodey, Tony, Y/N, and Nebula landed on Morag. Looking around, Y/N felt a strong buzzy in her head. She groaned, holding her hands to her ears.

“Y/N?” Tony called, concerned. 

He put a hand on her back. She began gasping as she could feel the Stones connect with her.

“What will happen, must happen,” the Stones gravelly voice entered her head. “We will stop you, until it’s time to stop him.”

“Y/N?” Rhodey tried.

“Th-the Stones,” Y/N panted, softly. “I can feel them again… We—we’re connected.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Tony asked.

“Yeah… I got it.”

Giving Y/N unconvinced looks, they all worked to get the Benatar to its normal size. Nebula flew it up so that they could lower the smaller ship inside it.

“Alright. Bring it down Blue,” Rhodey said, guiding Nebula. “Right on that line. That’s it. Down, down.”

“Hey, can we hurry it up?” Tony asked.

“Guys, chop-chop,” Y/N pushed. “Come on. We’re on a clock.”

“All that, is really helpful,” Rhodey responded as Nebula finished lowering the smaller ship. 

Y/N smiled as she walked up and hugged Rhodey. “Take care, okay?”

“Yeah. As long as you take are of him.”

“Always.”

“Take that Stone and come back,” Rhodey pulled away. “No messing around.” 

Y/N nodded and walked back so Tony could give his friend a hug. Nebula landed the Benatar and exited it.

“Hey. You got this,” Tony told Rhodey, pulling back from their hug.

“Let’s get it done.”

“Yes, sir.” Tony walked over to meet Y/N on the ship’s ramp.

“You guys watch each others’ six.”

Y/N flashed Rhodey another smile before Tony and her disappeared into the ship. Y/N could tell that being in the Benatar was bringing back memories for Tony. He walked up to the front seats, running his hand down one of them.

“You okay?” Y/N asked.

“Always,” he replied, flashing a brief smile.

Y/N followed Tony’s lead in piloting the ship. Getting off of Morag, Tony had the ship speeding off. Y/N and Tony looked at each other.

“It’s a long way from Malibu,” Tony commented.

Y/N laughed. “That seems like forever ago.”

It didn’t take too long for them to arrive at Vormir. As they landed, they took in the planet. It was sandy, yet there were ponds littered everywhere. The only thing that stood out was the large mountain like structure, not too far off.

“Under different circumstances, this would be totally awesome,” Tony commented.

“I thought you hated space?” Y/N questioned.

“Oh, I do. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it.”

Tony suited up in his Iron Man armor before the couple exited the ship. The shrunk the ship back up and stored it in one of Y/N’s pockets. The two walked to the mountain and up it.

“I bet the raccoon didn’t have to climb a mountain,” Tony commented.

“Technically, he’s not a raccoon, you know,” Y/N replied.

“Whatever. He eats garbage.”

“Welcome,” a voice interrupted.

Tony’s helmet swiftly covered his face and he lifted his armored hand up, as Y/N aimed her gun up at the man.

“No,” she gasped when she saw the man’s voice. “Red Skull.”

“Y/N, daughter of Joseph,” the floating man continued. “Tony, son of Maria.”

“How the hell did you get here?”

“The Stones have chosen me as a guide. To you, and to all who seek the Soul Stone.”

“Oh, goodie. You tell us where it is,” Tony ordered. “Then we’ll be on our way.”

“Ah, if only it were that easy.”

Red Skull began floating away. Tony and Y/N shared a look before following after the hooded man. They were led to the edge of the cliff.

“What you seek lies in front of you,” the guide explained. “As does what you fear.”

Y/N peeked over the edge. “The Stone is down there,” she said. “I can feel it.”

“For one of you. For the other… in order to take the Stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul, for a soul.” Then he disappeared.

“Where the hell did he go?” Tony asked, spinning around to look at him.

“A soul, for a soul,” Y/N whispered. She was dazed.

Suddenly, the Ancient One’s voice from many years ago was in her head, "The Soul Stone is the most hidden and unknown out of all the Stones. Very few know it’s location, or the powers it possesses. I don’t even know it’s location, but I do know the price it requires to retrieve it… A soul for a soul.”

Tony’s helmet disappeared back into his suit as he noticed Y/N’s expression. “Y/N?” He slowly came up to her. “Y/N? What’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry,” she tried not to cry as she teared up. She looked at him, shaking her head slightly. “I should have never let you come here. I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“One of us has to die in order for us to get the Stone… That’s why Nebula’s sister never came back from here… Thanos sacrificed her.”

“No.” Tony shook his head. “No. Maybe he’s making this shit up.”

“No. I know he’s not. I… I was warned years ago, I just didn’t understand it then… Tony, I am so sorry.” A tear trailed down her cheek. “Please tell Morgan that I love her.”

“No, no, no, no. You are not going to be the one to do this. If anyone is going to sacrifice themselves, it’s me. You were meant for more, and our daughter needs you.”

“She needs you too. I can’t let you do this.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Red Skull interrupted. “You are what ends this once and for all. The Stones will not let you sacrifice yourself, or stop the necessary sacrifice.”

“See?” Tony shot out his hand, pointing to the guide. “Even he knows. I have to be the one to do this.”

“No.” Y/N let the tears fall freely now. “No. Morgan needs her father.”

“Not as much as she needs her mother.” Tony stepped closer, cupping her cheeks. “I have to do this. Let me be the hero she thinks I am.”

“You’re already a hero, Tony… to so many people, but no more than Morgan and I.”

“This will just seal it then.” He brushed some fingers against her cheek. “I love you, Y/N Rogers-Stark. Always have, always will.”

“I love you too.” Tony pulled her in for a heated kiss, slowly turning them so that his back was facing the cliff. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry.”

“I know. Here…” He tapped his chest, his suit disappearing into the reactor before he took it off his chest and handed it to Y/N. “You’re going to need this more than I will.”

“Tony—“

“Give it to Peter or Harley. Maybe make them fight for it. Or, keep it for Morgan. We both know that no matter what, she’ll follow in our footsteps.” He pulled her in for another kiss. “I’ll say hello to AJ for you.” Pushing Y/N away slightly, he caused her to stumble back and fall. “I love you. And remind Morgan that I love her 3000.” 

“Please, Tony, I—“

“It will be okay. I promise.”

He looked in her eyes before letting himself fall back over the cliff.

“NOOO!” Y/N screamed, crawling to the edge of the cliff. 

She looked over just as Tony hit the ground. Blood immediately began pooling around his head and drooling out of his mouth. Y/N bowed her head and sobbed.

“No,” she cried out. “Tony… No…" 

A boom in the sky sent Y/N suddenly appearing in a pool of water. Still sobbing, she felt something in her hand. She opened her hand to reveal the Soul Stone. Clutching it close to her chest, she began sobbing more and a voice filled her ears.

“You are free to stop what is coming… It is time.”

next chapter >

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[zackcollins]

i can’t sleep without you || penny oleksiak

Author’s Note: Look... She’s the Canadian record holder for most medals at the Summer Olympics. My brain decided that warranted a little piece of writing. I hope I did it and her justice because she truly is an icon. Both for the sport of swimming and for the Oleksiak family. GIF credit to maljic!

Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything! Feel free to let me know if anything should be warned about though. I’ll gladly add a warning for you.

Word Count: 1.5k+

Title: Sleep Without You by Brett Young

Additional: The reader should be gender-neutral. They’re implied to be a swimmer, so I did the best I could. Anyways! I hope everyone enjoys this! Feedback is always welcomed!!

You were humming along to the music filtering through your headphones. On the tray in front of you, you were tapping a pencil against your crossword book. You only had a few words filled in and it was driving you bonkers not being able to figure out some of them. Shifting your attention from the music to the crossword puzzle, you scanned the clues again to see if there were any easy ones that you missed.

 5 Down: Layman’s oesophagus

 Bopping your head along to the music, you smiled as you wrote ‘throat’ in the appropriate squares. You were grateful that you had found at least one easy clue. Filling out a few more answers that you had somehow missed, you tapped his pencil against the book a second time when you reached a stalemate at one of the remaining clues.

 13 Across: Town at Eighth Mile of Boston Marathon

 You paused your music, slid your headphones around your neck, turning to your best friend, Penny, beside you. You put the crossword book on the tray in front of her, pointing at the clue.

 “You’re a trove of useless knowledge,” You said, “do you know the answer to that?”

Instead of answering, Penny grabbed the pencil and wrote Natick across the correct squares. Smiling, you slid the crossword book back in front of yourself. Penny handed you the pencil, turning back to the movie she was watching on the seat display; it looked like Finding Nemo or Finding Dory if you were to guess.

 “Thanks, Penny,” you said, punching her playfully in the shoulder.

 Humming, Penny smiled without looking away from her movie. “You’re welcome, babe.”

 Leaning over, Penny checked her shoulder against yours. Your mouth went dry, face heating up both from the contact and the fact that Penny had called you what she had called you. Despite yourself, your traitorous body felt gooey and fuzzy. You quickly slid your headphones on, restarting the music. The last thing you needed was Penny to figure out how you felt.

 For the rest of the flight to Calgary, you tried to focus on your crossword puzzle and the music you were listening to. You tried not to focus on the lingering gooey and fuzzy feelings the shoulder check and pet name from Penny had caused. Keyword: tried. Even with your music blasted as loud as was safe, you could still hear Penny laughing along to the movie. Every time Penny laughed, the gooey and fuzzy feelings bubbled back up deep within your gut.

 When the plane finally landed about an hour later and everyone was disembarking, you kept to yourself. You knew your face was burning as bright as the morning sun after everything that had happened. The last thing you needed was someone to question you about it.

 Thankfully, the bus ride to the hotel was without incident. You were also able to finish your crossword. Seeing as Penny was the last person you wanted to interact with right now, you went to Maggie for help. Maggie was concerned as to why you weren't asking Penny because she knew the two of you did everything together but she ultimately helped you when you said that Penny just wanted to rest after the long flight. Though, you were fairly certain you saw Maggie give you a sideways glance once or twice as she was giving you the answers to some of the clues. You couldn't be sure if it was because she didn't believe your story about Penny, or because she thought you were an idiot for not knowing the answers. Either way, you kept quiet and thanked her when the crossword was finished.

 When everyone was assigned their rooms, you and Penny were paired together to the surprise of absolutely no one. Penny was talking to you about ways to refine your butterfly stroke when you put the keycard in the door. Walking into the room, you both froze as you dropped your suitcases beside each other.

 Looking at each other after a moment, Penny cursed while you ran your hand down your face and around to the back of your neck, sighing.

 “One bed,” you said, swallowing thickly. “There must’ve been a mix-up with the room assignments.”

 Penny sighed, turning to you. “I’m alright with it as long as you are.”

 You noticed something strange beyond the surface of Penny’s eyes; it looked like hope.

 Feeling yourself short circuit, you nodded quickly. “Yeah, it’s fine.” Your words felt heavy, nervous. If Penny noticed, she didn’t acknowledge it.

 Motioning to the bathroom, Penny began unzipping her suitcase. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. It helps me sleep.”

 Feeling your mouth go dry for the second time that night, you nodded. You had seen Penny after a shower plenty of times; this time though, this time felt personal. Intimate. You would be sharing a bed, something that you had dreamt about for a while.

 As Penny went to shower, you changed into your pyjamas. Swallowing thickly, you wanted to kick himself for packing nothing more than a pair of loose boxers and a skin-tight undershirt to wear to bed. Normally, that would be sufficient; you always had your bed. Today though, some power that existed made it happenstance that you would share a bed with the woman you had a lunar-sized crush on. In other words, loose boxers and a skin-tight undershirt felt insufficient.

 When the bathroom door opened and Penny emerged wearing only sleep shorts and a sports bra, you felt less psychotic for wearing what you were wearing. Shimmying over toward the window, you allowed room for Penny on the side of the nightstand. Penny hummed in appreciation, slipping under the covers. Flicking on the lamp, she rolled over to face you.

 “I hope you don’t mind that the lamp is on,” she said, motioning behind her. “Leaving a light on helps me sleep more soundly.”

 You could see a blush rising on Penny’s face. Smiling softly, you slid under the cover and fluffed your pillow to get comfortable.

 “No,” you said, ���I don’t mind.”

 You felt your heartstrings tug in different directions when Penny lit up with a genuine smile.

 “Night, babe,” Penny yawned, closing her eyes. A few moments later, Penny’s breathing evened out.

 “Night, Penny,” you mumbled, rolling over. You closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep after a few minutes. Your mind was transfixed on the fact that Penny had called you a pet name again.

 In the morning, you felt warm. Too warm. Your first thought was that you had a fever. You grumbled and shifted around, trying to get comfortable in your newfound heat. That caused another grumble that you decidedly did not utter.

 “Stay still, babe,” Penny mumbled, “cuddling you is no fun if you move.”

 You sprung up as if you were on fire, looking down at Penny. Penny grumbled leaning on her elbow to look at you.

 “Everything okay?” she asked, sounding concerned.

 You swallowed, nodding haphazardly. “I’m sorry for invading your space like that.”

 Penny ran a hand along your bicep. You shivered, leaning into the touch.

 “You didn’t invade anything. I would’ve stopped you if I didn’t like it,” Penny paused.

 “You mean...” the cogs started to turn in your head.

 Nodding, Penny smiled. “Yes. I have feelings for you. Have had feelings for you for a long time.”

 Sitting up properly, Penny cupped your face. On instinct, you brought your hands to Penny's ribcage. Shivering at the contact, Penny leaned in and ghosted her lips over yours. You felt your lips tremble at the feather-light sensation. You leaned in to chase the feeling, lips making contact with Penny's.

 You kissed each other for a moment, pulling back when you nibbled on Penny's lower lip. Penny looked blissed and content when you looked into her eyes. She caught you staring and smirked.

 Ducking your head, you placed it on Penny’s shoulder. Grabbing your chin, Penny pulled your head up. Looking into Penny's eyes, you could see nothing but tenderness and care staring back at you.

 “You have pretty eyes,” you blurted.

 Penny's face turned a soft shade of pink as she leaned in, kissing you. The kiss was soft, sweet, and the most meaningful kiss you had ever experienced. Unlike the kisses you had had with people in the past, this kiss with Penny felt like it mattered in the grand scheme of things. It felt right.

 Laying down to cuddle some more before practice, you heard one of the phones vibrate on the nightstand. It was Penny's phone that had vibrated but when you went to give it to her, she had already fallen back asleep. You looked at the phone screen and saw that the notification was a text from her brother, Jamie. You knew what Penny's password was because she had trusted you with it ages ago. Sighing, you entered the 6 digits and opened up the text thread to see what Jamie had wanted this early in the morning.

After reading the message, you placed Penny's phone on the nightstand. You kissed her on the forehead before curling around her and drifting off to sleep. The only thing on your mind was that you were grateful that Penny had a brother like Jamie.

 To: Coin

From: Giraffe

You're welcome for getting you two a room with one bed. All it cost me was a signed jersey. Now, it better have worked or else I'm flying up to Calgary myself to get you two fools together. Do you understand?

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 19

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 18

Next Chapter: Chapter 20

Cordelia and Lucie returned to the lake when Cordelia was finally done training. She looked forward to going for a swim and cool down a little, training all afternoon in the heat might not have been the best idea ever, and she understood Lucie had given up on practicing magic sooner. She had no idea how exhausting it was to open a portal. It looked like Lucie simply asking for favors, but Cordelia expected it was exhausting in its own way, different from swinging a sword. The last time she’d even seen shadows gather around Lucie, although she didn’t think Lucie herself had seen anything. It made Cordelia wonder how her magic worked. Did the darkness come from inside of her? Or did it come from everywhere, finding its way to Lucie? And could it be dangerous? What if such power corrupted people?

It wasn’t that surprising magic tired her though. Alastair’s ability could exhaust him too. As far as Cordelia knew he was always tired, and she wondered if his memory had anything to do with that.

Alastair and Thomas were already there, they’d swum all the way to the island. Cordelia didn’t think Alastair had swum in some time. Cordelia hadn’t either before coming here, mostly because she had struggled so much with finding swimwear she liked that also fit. Boys had it easy when it came to finding swimwear, she thought to herself. All they needed was find a pair of swim shorts that fit around their waist, whereas Cordelia needed a top that fit properly and a bottom that was high waisted enough for her to feel comfortable. She knew it was stupid, but she didn’t like wearing something that bared her stomach. She did enjoy swimming though, now that she could.

They returned just in time for dinner, and Lucie changed into her lounge clothes, which consisted of a very large and long Green Day shirt she wore as a dress, tucked in the waist with a black lint she’d tied into a bow at her side.

‘I’d been wondering where that shirt had gone,’ Thomas said when he saw her.

Cordelia loved that Lucie could look so good in a shirt that apparently belonged to Thomas and was supposed to fit him.

‘I think I asked you if I could borrow it,’ Lucie said.

‘I don’t remember that,’ Thomas said.

‘It was several months ago, so that could be why you don’t remember.’

‘Are you going to give it back at some point?’ Thomas asked.

Lucie shrugged. ‘Maybe,’ she said.

Thomas sighed. ‘At least Barbara has a boyfriend she can steal clothes from now. Sometimes I feel like my closet is a free for all.’

Cordelia didn’t think Alastair was the type to steal Thomas’ clothes, he always dressed in well fitting clothes, eager to impress. She guessed Thomas’ shirts and sweaters had to be comfortable, but Cordelia didn’t like to wear clothes that were baggy and oversized. Cordelia always felt like they made her look much bigger, and being both muscular and chubby had caused some issues with her body image.

Thomas returned to his parents after dinner, and Alastair went to his room. Cordelia followed him upstairs while Lucie was writing. She’d been meaning to talk to him.

Alastair was cleaning up in his room. She didn’t think it could get any cleaner, yet here Alastair was, carefully rearranging his bed.

‘Did you want to ask something?’ he asked without looking up from changing the bed sheets.

‘I did, can I come in?’

‘Sure, but give me a moment to finish this. Thomas is coming to sleep over tonight,’ Alastair said, ‘I figured I’d change the bed sheets and add an extra pillow.’

‘That’s sweet of him,’ Cordelia said.

‘It is. Thomas said he wanted to protect me from nightmares. I don’t think that’ll work but I’m learning to feel safe around him.’

Cordelia knew to Alastair, a sense of safety was hard to come by. He’d been unsafe for so long he struggled to recognize when he was safe and loved. They’d been working on that together, Cordelia trying to figure out the best ways to support him and make him feel safe, ways to help him through flashbacks and panic attacks. It had taken some time, but Alastair had slowly started trusting her with his feelings.

‘What did you want to talk about?’ Alastair asked.

‘I think I’m in love with Lucie,’ she confessed.

Cordelia had been close to Lucie for a long time, she struggled to tell the difference between their friendship and falling in love, but lately she’d started to suspect what she felt was romantic love.

Alastair grinned. ‘Well, that means your taste in women is decidedly better than your taste in men. Do you think she likes you?’

‘I don’t know. I know she likes girls, but I’m not sure she likes me.’

‘Isn’t her story about you titled the Beautiful Cordelia?’ Alastair asked.

Cordelia tilted her head. ‘Yes, but I think that’s not so uncommon. I mean, she started writing that story when she was twelve and lots of twelve year old girls write main characters who are constantly described as being exceedingly beautiful and perfect and courageous.’

‘But aren’t many of those characters an idealized version of the author themselves?’ Alastair asked. ‘Lots of twelve year old girls are insecure about how they look and some write themselves as how they wished they looked.’

Cordelia had definitely been insecure, and she knew Alastair was still insecure about his dark features. She often made fun of his dyed blonde hair, which he’d thankfully died back to black, but she knew it was because Alastair was insecure about how he looked as a brown man. His hair was one of the few things about his appearance he could change.

Cordelia had too, she’d been insecure about her brown skin and dark eyes, she’d believed her red hair, a very uncommon feature for an Iranian girl, was the best part about her appearance. But Lucie’s story had dedicated pages to describing the beauty of Cordelia’s brown skin and dark eyes, and Cordelia had read many books written by women of color where girls were celebrated for their brown skin and dark hair and eyes. And she��d read books about fat or mid sized girls written by fat authors where their bodies were celebrated or just not that important in the long run, which had helped Cordelia feel less insecure about her body

‘Lots of twelve year old girls describe their main characters as so skinny people thought they had an eating disorder, but you know that although it’s written in a negative light, it’s supposed to be a compliment,’ Cordelia said. ‘You’re probably right, that the authors wanted to be thinner and therefore wrote their characters that way.’

At twelve, she’d gravitated towards stories with those main characters, because of her own insecurity. At that age she’d barely been able to read books with a fat main character. Of course, most fat girls in books back then hated themselves and could only have a happy ending after losing weight, but Cordelia suspected back then she would not have been able to appreciate books about fat girls loving themselves as she could now. Even though at twelve years old, Cordelia hadn’t even been fat.

‘But Lucie didn’t write an idealized version of herself,’ Alastair said. ‘She wrote about you.’

‘There was a side character called princess Lucinda, who was the fictional version of Lucie,’ Cordelia said. ‘But when it came to descriptions of how characters looked, Cordelia was always the most beautiful girl around and everyone fell in love with her at first sight. And I mean literally everyone.’

‘The obvious explanation would be that she likes you,’ Alastair said.

‘She didn’t realize she liked girls until recently,’ Cordelia said. ‘She started writing the beautiful Cordeliayears ago.’

‘She might not have realized she liked you,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ve never read much from the story, but from what did read, I cannot think of another explanation for this.’

Cordelia had to admit her brother had a point. Still, she was nervous when she returned downstairs to Lucie, who was still writing. She looked up when Cordelia sat down next to her with a book.

‘I introduced Mabel,’ Lucie said. ‘Eloise just fell asleep and woke in the dreamworld, and is trying to figure out where she is and how to get out, and although she doesn’t trust or understand Mabel, they are forced to work together. And Mabel at this point thinks Eloise is just a conceited rich girl. So a bit like Pride and Prejudice.’

Cordelia wondered if she was anything like Mabel and if Eloise was anything like Lucie. Or perhaps the other way around, she wasn’t too familiar with either character yet.

‘I like Pride and Prejudice,’ Cordelia said. ‘So they go from being enemies to being in love?’

‘Not enemies in the sense that they’re on opposite sides or anything, but they do strongly dislike each other at first, which will slowly develop to grudging respect to genuine respect to friendship to I would die for you. It’s a fun dynamic, but difficult to write and space out. And of course Eloise is in the dreamland the whole time, whereas Mabel is only there at night when she’s sleeping.’

‘So, if Mabel can talk to Eloise while they’re asleep and she also wakes up into the real world, could she serve as a line of communication between Eloise and her family?’ Cordelia asked.

Lucie’s eyes lit up. ‘Of course, that’s an excellent idea. Now the first time Mabel visits Eloise’ house, her family doesn’t listen to Mabel, which reinforces her negative beliefs about Eloise, but eventually she gives in and tries again and tells them something only Eloise could have told her and then the family does begin to trust her.’

‘How exhausted does Mabel get from all this?’ Cordelia said. ‘Since she gets to adventure in her sleep?’

‘Well, the adventuring in her sleep does count as sleep,’ Lucie said. ‘But you have a point, it would probably be less restful than normal sleep. Perhaps Eloise’s family can take her in and provide for her family so she can get enough rest to visit the dreamland.’

‘What do your characters look like?’ Cordelia asked. ‘I’m thinking about drawing them for you.’

Cordelia hadn’t drawn in some time, but had brought some art supplies with her. She wasn’t particularly talented, but decent when it came to drawing Lucie’s characters, although she still struggled with drawing men.

‘Oh that would be fantastic,’ Lucie said. ‘I always like to have something to visualize, but I can’t draw a straight line. Alright, so Mabel is from a poor family, and works in a factory to support her family, so she’s going to look a bit dirty and stained. She has dirty blonde hair and brown eyes and freckles and is a little underweight because she struggles to feed herself and her mother and younger siblings.

Eloise on the other hand is from a wealthy family, although her mother was poor, and she wears fancier clothes like the dress Jessamine wears. She has dark brown hair and gray eyes and because she always had enough food and likes sweets, she is fat.

Maybe Mabel judges Eloise for her weight at first, because Mabel is poor herself but I’m thinking that might not go over well to a modern audience.’

Cordelia tilted her head. ‘Maybe not. But it’s nice to have a fat main character, I don’t think there are enough of those.’

Nor were there enough queer main characters, women of color main characters, the list could go on. Cordelia often wished she could see herself more in books, and Lucie understood that. Lucie often recommended her books based on what she was looking for.

‘Yes, exactly,’ Lucie said. ‘And it gives me an opportunity to write away any insecurities I have about gaining weight. One of the great benefits of stealing Thomas’ clothes is that it rarely happens that they suddenly don’t fit anymore.’

Lucie had told her she’d gained some weight over the past year, but as it had happened slowly, Cordelia found it difficult to tell the difference. She and Thomas used to have eating contests together, which was a bit of an odd hobby but both seemed to enjoy it, and Lucie was probably the only one who stood a chance against Thomas, but ever since gaining weight she’d gotten too insecure about it.

Cordelia thought Lucie would look good at any size, and hated how being taught to be insecure had made her give up on a weird but fun hobby.

‘That sounds like a good idea,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’m going to get my art supplies and get started.’

***

Alastair and Thomas were in Alastair’s bed together, in each other’s arms. It was nice, warm, comfortable, Thomas asking every now and then if it was still okay, if he wanted to be kissed, if certain parts of his body were alright for him to touch. Alastair didn’t think he’d ever get enough of this. Thomas’ arms were firm and strong and applied just enough pressure to his body to be comforting.

He was whispering to Thomas in Farsi, terms of endearments he had not imagined using for someone else after Charles.

‘What is it you’re saying?’ Thomas asked. ‘Is that Farsi?’

‘It is,’ Alastair said.

‘What were you saying?’ Thomas asked. ‘Lucie and I tried to learn Farsi for Cordelia, but so far we only learnt a few phrases and my accent is probably terrible.’

‘Likely,’ Alastair agreed, ‘but it’s nice that you’re learning. I could help you.’

Charles had never cared much for his language, or his culture. Of course, at the time Alastair had tried to distance himself from his heritage, all too aware how people treated him for it. He’d thought people would accept him better that way. After all, people often claimed foreigners should adapt to the dominant culture. He knew better now, and loved that Thomas showed an interest in the language.

‘That would be amazing. You are fluent, aren’t you?’

‘My mother mostly spoke Farsi with us at home, and aunt Risa still struggles with English. She understands everything you say, but cannot express herself well enough to feel comfortable, so we always speak Farsi with her. So I’d say Cordelia and I are fluent, yes.’

‘So, what were you just saying for me?’

‘Kharâbetam. I am ruined for you. Nooré cheshm-am. The light of my eyes. Ãtashé del-am. The fire of my heart.’

‘Wow. That all sounds so romantic,’ Thomas said.

‘Farsi endearments can be dramatic, but I like that,’ Alastair said.

‘I’ll try to learn some of those,’ Thomas promised. ‘Learning the language will undoubtedly be easier with a native speaker around.’

Thomas started kissing him again, wrapping his arms around Alastair, still checking if everything was alright. He threw in some terms of endearments of his own, phrases Alastair did not understand, but recognized as Spanish. He remembered Thomas saying his father often spoke Spanish around the house and Thomas was fluent himself. Alastair wasn’t sure what exactly Thomas was saying, but it sounded sweet.

He started to wonder if Thomas wanted to move things along. Part of Alastair wanted to, part of him was scared. Truth to be told, he wasn’t sure what he wanted, and he’d much rather follow Thomas’ lead.

He didn’t realize what was happening at first. Thomas, apparently, did long to move things along, and asked if it would be alright to take off some clothes. Alastair said yes, even if part of him was still scared. It would be fine, he told himself. This was Thomas, who loved him and would stop if Alastair asked him to.

And at first it was amazing. Alastair gently traced the stretch marks on Thomas’ back with his fingers. It must have been hard on the body, to grow so much in only a few years. Thomas used to be so small… He didn’t feel like it was going too fast, he was taking his time admiring Thomas.

And Thomas was still sweet as always, asking what was alright. Alastair said yes to everything. He wanted Thomas, wanted to find out what it could be like with someone who cared for him. But the more intimate their kissing, their exploring each other’s bodies became, the more Alastair was reminded of previous times he’d done this. Stop, he told himself. This wasn’t like it was with Charles. This was Thomas and he was sweet and perfect and would never do anything Alastair wasn’t comfortable with. But he fell back into the memory anyway. It wasn’t real, he told himself. He was here with Thomas, but he couldn’t feel Thomas anymore. Instead, he was with Charles, and he was scared and uncomfortable, but didn’t dare say anything because what if Charles would abandon him? It wasn’t real, he told himself. He’d done something wrong, he felt, Charles had been upset with him most of the evening and Alastair didn’t know why. He couldn’t figure what he’d done wrong, and at the time he’d thought it reasonable to make it up to Charles like this, pushing himself despite his fear and discomfort. Doing whatever he asked for because he’d clearly done something wrong and he wanted to show Charles he loved him. Now Alastair felt shame for allowing all this to happen. He felt Charles’ hands on him, and yelled at him to stop but it was a memory and in the past Alastair had never asked him to stop. There was nothing he could do now, nothing to change the past. In the distance, he heard a voice calling to him. It wasn’t real, he reminded himself. He wasn’t with Charles, he’d done nothing wrong, and he had nothing to make up for.

‘Alastair, are you alright?’

‘Get away from me!’ Alastair yelled and he wasn’t sure if it was directed at Thomas or Charles or both of them.

‘Alastair, what do you need me to do?’

Thomas sounded like he was freaking out, but he was still there. It wasn’t real, he reminded himself. Thomas was real. His bedroom was real. He felt something in his arms, something soft and hairy. He focused on that sensation, stroking the soft thing. Alastair had always had a fondness for soft things, his hedgehog, nice blankets. He loved how it felt under his fingers, how it could put him at ease to stroke his hand over something soft. It was his hedgehog, he realized. Thomas had found Mr. Prickly somewhere between the sheets and shoved it into his arms. It was something to focus on. He held Mr. Prickly against him, stroking it gently, focusing on the sensation underneath his fingers. This was real. He could see the hedgehog. Could see Thomas, asking him to breathe, talking to him.

‘Don’t panic,’ Alastair told Thomas as he sat upright, hedgehog in his lap.

Part of him was tempted to send Thomas away, to not let him see Alastair like this. He wanted to yell at him to get out of here and retreat into his protective shell, but what would be the point? Thomas had already seen the worst, nothing to be done about that now. Besides, it would be rude to expect Thomas to sleep on the couch or go back to his parents at this hour. This was a bad idea. He tried to breathe, keeping all his attention on Mr. Prickly. Perhaps he should give trust a try, he told himself. Perhaps he and Thomas could work through this. He knew it was unlikely, but Alastair forced himself to at least give it a try.

‘I’m not panicking,’ Thomas protested. ‘I just really didn’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘This was a good move though,’ Alastair said, cradling Mr. Prickly against him.

‘What happened?’ Thomas asked. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

Alastair sighed, how long until Thomas would give up? He wanted to take this further, he wanted to be able to have sex with Thomas without it reminding him of past times. He was older now, and although he was still scared he also wanted to have sex. And Thomas deserved it, deserved a partner who could satisfy him. Alastair wasn’t so sure he could.

‘It’s not you, eshgham,’ he said slowly. None of this was Thomas’ fault. It was his, for being too broken to be a good lover. ‘You know I have these flashbacks, right?’

‘Yes, I do. Did I do something to trigger a flashback?’

‘I didn’t realize it would happen,’ Alastair said. ‘I thought I was ready. I wanted to sleep with you. But then something reminded me of him, and I fell into a memory. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s nothing to be sorry for. I just don’t want to hurt you,’ Thomas said.

‘I do not always know what will happen,’ Alastair said. ‘One thing that helped me greatly in therapy is learning to identify triggers. Alcohol is an obvious one, of course. But because of Charles, intimacy is also difficult. I thought it would be alright. I was a little nervous, but I also really wanted it.’

‘It’s alright to wait,’ Thomas said. ‘As long as you need. We haven’t even been together that long, and I’m fine just cuddling. If that’s still alright. Honestly the idea of having sex makes me nervous too. You know, since I’ve never done it.’

Alastair could still see a hint of disappointment on Thomas’ face, but right now he just couldn’t. He was so tired, he didn’t think he’d ever feel rested again. He’d had a long day, he reminded himself.

‘You know what, maybe we should go outside,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘Outside?’

What did Thomas have in mind? Cuddling outside in the grass? Alastair imagined it would be cold.

‘I like watching the stars,’ Thomas admitted. ‘When I was young and so sick I had to stay in the hospital, Barbara gifted me some books by Stephen Hawking. Children’s books he’d written with his daughter, not the complicated ones. I had a bit of an obsession with the galaxy then because of these books. It’s very calming, so maybe it’ll help you.’

‘So, you want to watch the stars with me?’ Alastair asked.

‘I could point them all out to you,’ Thomas said. ‘If you like that, I mean. London is too light for stargazing, there’s nothing to see, but here that’s not the case and the sky is very clear tonight. Not a cloud to be seen. Unless you’d rather go to sleep?’

‘I’m not sure I’d be able to fall asleep right now.’

Alastair reluctantly followed Thomas. Will and Tessa were still downstairs, both reading as they often did.

‘We’re going to watch the stars,’ Thomas announced.

Will looked up from his book. ‘Well, enjoy. Don’t stay out too long, it’s cold outside.’

Will was right, it was cold outside. Alastair wished he’d worn something warmer than his pajamas. They sat down on the garden lounge set, Alastair finding a comfortable position sitting in between Thomas’ legs in front of him, laying back against his chest with Thomas’ arms around him. He was exhausted, flashbacks always did that even if he was still too alert to fall asleep. Perhaps after a while he’d doze off here, leaning against Thomas.

‘Do you know how to find the polar star?’ Thomas asked.

‘I’ve heard it had something to do with the bear constellation?’ Alastair asked.

He’d read about this ages ago, but stars had never been a particular interest of his even if he’d had many unusual interests in his youth. He’d read a few things here and there, but barely remembered anything.

‘Yes. That there’s the big bear.’

Alastair tried to look where Thomas was pointing, which was difficult, but he recognized the saucepan shape of the big bear constellation. He’d long been confused why it was called a bear when it clearly resembled a pan or a ladle more, but later he’d learnt there were actually more stars to the constellation, the pan shape was just the brightest.

‘Now you must follow the two stars at the side of the pan shape, into that direction and there’s ursa minor. Although ursa minor doesn’t really look like a bear, it just looks like a smaller version of the saucepan.’

Alastair had to look for a while, but he could find the constellation Thomas described.

‘Now, the end of the pan, that’s Polaris,’ Thomas said proudly. ‘True north. So, if you ever get lost at sea, you now know how to navigate.’

‘If I get lost at sea, I’d probably die of other causes first,’ Alastair said. ‘Dehydration would be the obvious choice.’

‘I guess that’s true. But if you’re lost at sea with a huge supply of water and food that won’t go to waste, then it might be nice to actually know how to navigate.’

‘You think that’ll happen?’ Alastair asked.

‘Oh, probably not,’ Thomas said. ‘But I’ve always liked the idea of finding my own true north. I’m actually planning to get a tattoo. I haven’t told anyone, I’ve been working up the courage to ask my parents.’

‘What kind?’ Alastair asked.

‘A compass,’ Thomas said. ‘But I was thinking of combining it with a flower, a rose I think. I have made a few sketches, I’ll show you someday.’

‘Where did you want to get it?’ Alastair asked.

‘Just here, on my arm.’

Thomas leaned a bit forward, against Alastair’s back, and showed him a spot on his wrist. Alastair mindlessly traced the spot with his fingers, and he could feel Thomas’ shiver beneath his touch. If a subtle touch on his arm could get such a reaction out of him, what would happen when Alastair was able to move things along and have sex with him? He felt another pang of guilt, at being unable to, at wanting to please his partner yet falling into a memory of a previous partner he’d been desperate to satisfy.

‘It’ll look amazing here,’ Alastair said. ‘Do you think your parents will not approve?’

‘Oh I’m thinking they will, they were supportive when Genie wanted to get her nose pierced at least. I know some parents can be absolutely horrified about their children getting tattoos and piercings.’

‘My mother would probably have a heart attack,’ Alastair agreed. ‘When I was fifteen, she caught me smoking in the windowsill. Let’s just say I did not dare smoke again. Which was probably for the best, because quitting now would have been harder than it was then.’

‘I remember you smoking just outside school,’ Thomas said. ‘Back then I thought it was attractive. Now I’m glad you quit, I really wouldn’t want you to get sick because of it.’

‘I wasn’t really occupied with that at fifteen,’ Alastair admitted. ‘I guess I figured I wouldn’t live long enough to get cancer from smoking anyway. But I also didn’t really have the money to keep buying cigarettes, so there’s that. Smoking is a very expensive pastime. And I could breathe much easier after I’d quit and had far better stamina.’

Alastair wasn’t even sure why he’d liked it back then. Part of it was to fit in, sure, but he’d also smoked at home, hanging out of the window so his room wouldn’t smell. Nowadays he found the scent of cigarettes disgusting and overwhelming and he couldn’t imagine ever smoking again.

Thomas pointed out several more stars and constellations for him. ‘That’s Orion,’ he said. ‘With the brightest star, Sirius. The dog star.’

‘Like in the Black family in Harry Potter,’ Alastair said. ‘Looks like a face with a crooked mouth.’

‘I think J.K. Rowling just pulled out a constellation map when she needed names for Black family members,’ Thomas said. ‘Do you like Harry Potter?’

‘I used to,’ Alastair said. ‘But that was before Rowling’s transphobia became widely known. I understand why some people still like the series and separate it from her, but I heavily associate them with the damage she did to trans people.’

‘Understandable,’ Thomas said. ‘Those books were a great comfort to me as a child. Besides the George’s secret key to the universe series.’

‘What was that about?’

‘Those are the space books I mentioned. It’s about a boy named George, whose new neighbor is a scientist with a daughter around his age. He grows closer to the girl and her father, and discovers he has a super computer that can create portals into space. And then there’s an evil former colleague of the scientist who wants to steal the computer. It was very entertaining, but also educational, explaining the universe and the stars and planets in a way that’s understandable for children. And when I could go back to school I told everyone I’d read a book by Stephen Hawking. Of course, at that age half the children had no idea who that was.’

‘That’s just adorable,’ Alastair grinned. ‘Was your teacher at least impressed?’

‘I think so. I think she did suspect I read his children’s books and not his more serious work, but I could tell the others everything about the stars.’

‘I’m getting very cold,’ Alastair said. ‘And sleepy. I could probably fall asleep right here if I wasn’t so cold.’

‘Oh, am I that comfortable?’

‘Don’t let it rise to your head. I’m going to bed, you coming?’

They returned upstairs, both Will and Tessa were still reading and Alastair wondered how long they would keep that up.

They both found a comfortable way to lie down in the bed, and Alastair found it reassuring that Thomas was still here, even if it was difficult to be near someone. Charles wouldn’t have stayed. Charles would not have helped him through a flashback. Charles would have scolded him for being so emotional and left him alone.

‘Good night,’ Thomas said.

‘Good night.’

Alastair slept peacefully that night. Perhaps it was Thomas, perhaps the hedgehog, or perhaps he was simply too tired to still have nightmares. He didn’t feel rested when he woke up the next morning, but he didn’t feel as tired as yesterday either. Thomas was still asleep, his mouth slightly open, clutching the blanket. Alastair was very glad Thomas didn’t snore. He was quiet in his sleep, breathing softly.

Alastair checked the time, six in the morning. What a useless time to wake up. No one else would be awake yet, but there was no point in going back to sleep either. He remained in bed, not exactly motivated to get out either. When would Thomas wake up? He was an early riser too, but six was a probably a bit too early. Miraculously he did fall asleep for a bit longer, with a hazy dream he did not remember when he woke up. Seven thirty, which meant he’d gotten another hour and a half of sleep.

Thomas woke around eight, and Alastair was still in bed, contemplating getting up to make breakfast.

‘Did you sleep well?’ Thomas asked, yawning.

‘Well enough,’ Alastair said. He didn’t usually fall back asleep after waking up around six, and had slept about as well as he could. He was still tired though, which didn’t surprise him after yesterday, and unmotivated to get out of bed.

‘I thought so. I woke at some point in the middle of the night and you seemed so peaceful.’

‘I have been told I am very still when I don’t have nightmares,’ Alastair said. ‘When Cordelia and I shared a room, she once thought I might be dead in the middle of the night when I was just sleeping.’

Of course, at the time Cordelia hadn’t quite understood his mental illness yet and feared he might be suicidal. She’s panicked and woken him up to make sure he wasn’t dead, and Alastair had assured her he had no intention of leaving her alone.

‘I didn’t think you were dead,’ Thomas said. ‘Just at peace for a change. So, do you feel rested?’

‘As I said, I never feel rested,’ Alastair said. ‘But I feel like I can face the day, and that’s good enough.’

‘Maybe someday,’ Thomas said. ‘I liked sleeping next to you and I do feel rested.’

Alastair groaned. ‘Of course you do. So, if you have an endless supply of energy for the day, you would have no issue making me breakfast.’

‘For sure,’ Thomas said to Alastair’s surprise and he got out of bed. ‘Do you want toast? ’

‘And coffee,’ Alastair said.

‘Maybe you would be less tired without the coffee,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘What are you talking about, coffee is what keeps me alive.’

‘Yes, but frequently drinking coffee builds tolerance. Drinking lots of coffee regularly won’t make you more energetic, it only makes you more tired when you don’t drink coffee.’

Alastair fell back onto the bed. ‘I still want coffee,’ he said, not willing to give in and admit Thomas was right.

‘Alright, coffee it is,’ Thomas said and he changed out of his pajamas.

Alastair took his time to admire the view until Thomas put on his shirt. He still found it hard to believe that this Thomas was the same small boy who’d followed him around years ago.

He didn’t get out of bed until Thomas returned to announce he’d made breakfast. Part of Alastair had still expected him to only make his own breakfast, but when Alastair was dressed and entered the kitchen, there was a cup of coffee and some toast with jam finished.

Thomas was sipping from a cup of English tea. ‘Do you want milk or sugar in your coffee?’

‘No,’ Alastair said. ‘I just drink it black.’

‘I’ve never liked coffee,’ Thomas said. ‘I think it tastes terrible.’

‘It does taste terrible. It’s supposed to be terrible. But at this point I’ve drunk so much coffee that I tolerate the taste. I need it for energy.’

‘I prefer tea myself.’

‘That’s not tea,’ Alastair said. ‘That’s an abomination.’

Thomas stared at him.

‘Wait until I introduce you to my mother,’ Alastair said. ‘She makes the best rose tea you’ve ever tasted. You’ll never drink that stuff again.’

‘Rose tea?’ Thomas said.

‘It is common in Iran to add rose petals when making tea. Tea is a very popular drink, and my mother is very precise on how she makes her tea,’ Alastair explained. ‘Just tell her you like her tea and she’ll adore you.’

‘That’s good to know,’ Thomas said before taking another sip of his English tea.

‘Risa is more critical though,’ Alastair added. ‘She might not be so impressed.’

When Cordelia had dated James, his mother had instantly adored James because he was polite and loved her tea. Risa had not been impressed at all and had not been afraid to let it show. All English people were polite after all and it was often only a façade. Alastair hoped she would treat Thomas better.

‘Maybe we should work on your Farsi before meeting Risa,’ Alastair added. ‘If you speak Farsi with her she’ll probably like you.’

‘That sounds promising,’ Thomas said.

‘You’re up early,’ said a sleepy voice.

Cordelia was still wearing her pajamas, her red hair tangled and messy.

‘As you well know, I’m always up early,’ Alastair said.

Cordelia nodded. ‘Are you ready to go find a selkie skin?’

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for the artwork! So fancy!

Midnight

Chapter 4 — The Ball

Summary: In which our heroine feels exposed

Chapter 4 of 7 on AO3

“Some day, when I’m awfully low

When the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you”

-The Way You Look Tonight, Fred Astaire

Having spent several days eating her way through Misthaven with one eye on the lookout for black sedans, Emma was glad to be heading away from the town and the emotional memories the sight of a pub or gas station would cause. She wasn’t sure why one innocent night with Killian Jones continued to dominate her thoughts and hijack her dreams, but she feared seeing him again would push her over the edge.

That didn’t keep her from wanting to though.

On some level, she knew he had probably already forgotten her. Perhaps he did before the night was even over. Some other passenger might be walking around his place now, wearing his shirts and eating his pancakes.

Because when she dreamed about Door Number One, they always had pancakes for breakfast.

Despite her stubborn heart’s refusal to cooperate, the last couple of days had not been wasted. Arthur turned out to be a man of his word. Like a crazy fairy godmother who sprinkled cold hard cash instead of pixie dust and magic, he kept her supplied in the finest clothes and the chicest accessories. At the same time, he made sure her social calendar buzzed with invitations from a who’s who of Misthaven’s finest and wealthiest families. Events that inevitably threw her together with Lance more often than not.

It was at a garden soirée the previous day Lance had pressed to drive her out to Camelot, Arthur’s sprawling estate just a couple of hours away. Figuring the sooner she got the weekend over with, the better, she remained elusive only long enough to be convincing and then accepted his offer.

She already figured out Lancelot du Lac was a man who enjoyed the chase. She also discovered underneath his rakish exterior was someone who desperately wanted to find love while at the same time being deathly afraid of it. Normally, Emma wasn’t one to psychoanalyze. Still, the funny thing about rich people’s parties was that they were actually very dull, and she had nothing to do but regret not kissing the Captain before they parted ways or come up with profiles on the personalities she encountered.

Psychoanalysis seemed like the safer option.

Now she was waiting in the lobby of the Ritz for Lance’s foreign sports car to arrive so she could finally shake the dirt of this town off her feet. She hoped she could shake the lingering sadness as well. It was doing things to her. Things like making her hear the Captain’s voice in crowds.

“Swan! Swan! Emma, if you don’t turn around this instant—“

Excitement and abject horror battled for supremacy when she realized it wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. As if in slow motion, she turned in the direction of his voice and her eyes met his across the vast space. Then she watched as Killian Jones began to sprint toward her, pushing people out of his way none too gently while managing not to crease his startlingly posh blue suit. This wasn’t the flirty Uber driver of a few nights ago, all leather and innuendo. Sure he had the same sex hair and twinkling blue eyes, but this man exuded power and authority and, quite frankly, looked more than a little pissed as he closed the distance between them with frightening speed.

Unaware of the drama playing out, one of the valets rushed to her and announced breathlessly, “Baroness, your ride has arrived.”

“I… I’ll be right there.”

Emma couldn’t break eye contact with him. His face was just as she remembered it, as it should since it was less than a week ago when she last saw him. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked frantic to get to her. He seemed to know she was contemplating an escape and he paused briefly, not caring who heard him when he called across the remaining ground between them, “So help me, Swan, if you run again, I swear I will—“

She didn’t hear the rest of what he said as a herd of visitors passed between them chattering loudly in some foreign language, the group taking photos of the architecture and potted plants as if they were worthy of remembrance. She had a brief opportunity to step out unseen under cover of the mob separating them. To forever give this man who haunted her the slip.

Or she could stay.

God, did she want to stay.

—

The estate was as lovely as one would expect. Ancient oak trees lined the drive and gave way to topiaries precisely cut into fantastical shapes as the car approached the main house. Lance regaled her with tales of the vast land Arthur inherited, the numerous homes on the property, and the complete absence of any cell or internet services once you crossed the boundary.

It seemed old man Soberano convinced himself the emerging technologies were a way for the government to spy on people and had forbidden, by way of his last will and testament, any cell towers or fiber lines from ever crossing the property. It was why as coveted as an acquaintance with the family was, people often grumbled when they received an invitation to the country estate rather than one of the other properties throughout the globe. The ancient landline phones served as the communication system for the large estate and the only connection to the outside world.

Of course, most of his ramblings went in one ear and out the other because she was too busy wondering why Killian had been at the Ritz in a suit that looked like it was made for him. She would know. After all, she was now in possession of a wardrobe filled with custom pieces and carefully tailored lines.

Was it a fluke encounter or was he still searching for her? He would give new meaning to the phrase ‘no stone left unturned’ if his sole reason for coming to the premier hotel in town was to look for the broke woman he gambled on and lost. Literally.

“Darling, I feel like you haven’t heard a word I said the whole journey,” Lance gently complained as he helped her out of the low seats of the car and up the grand stairs leading to the front door. He appeared genuinely distressed at her distance, and for the first time, she felt a twinge of guilt for the ridiculous game she was playing.

“I’m sorry. I had some bad news right before we left, and I’m a bit distracted,” she explained, allowing Lance to take her hand as they approached the Soberanos who were waiting for them in the foyer. Their linked hands did not go unnoticed by either of their hosts, although to widely different responses.

Learning she was at the opposite end of the mansion from Lance, the group moved to the second floor together. The servant leading them turned to Lance and said helpfully, “Good news, Mr. du Lac, we found the cuff link you lost on your last visit. It was in Madam Soberano’s sitting room.”

Sheepishly, he looked to Emma as if ready to offer an excuse. Unable to keep a chuckle from escaping at the crazy situation, she patted his arm and said, “The wind must have blown it in.”

With that, the group separated. Arthur replaced Lance at her arm and smiled indulgently at his protege. “You’re quite good. You have him eating out of your hand, and you’re not even trying.”

“I’ve met his type before. The less I try, the more he will. He’ll be begging me to divorce my husband and proposing before the end of the night at this rate,” she joked.

“You don’t know Lancelot du Lac,” Arthur argued. Their leisurely stroll through the second-floor gallery allowed her to see pictures of his ancestors back to the Norman invasion, but she noted there was none of him or his beloved wife who he was fighting so hard to keep.

“Well, you don’t know Emma Swan. He tried to give me an emerald the size of a baby’s fist today.” She had been tempted to pocket the jewel, but some small part of her knew what she was doing was wrong and robbing the man blind when she had no intention of ever returning his affections wouldn’t make it any better.

“Excellent! I won’t even deduct it from your pay if you promise to take him for all he’s worth and break his heart, dear. It will do him some good.”

“How are you still friends with him? Knowing what he’s doing with your wife. I can’t figure out if you’re the most understanding man in the world or absolutely crazy.”

Sighing, he sat down on one of the numerous benches that lined the gallery floor and patted the seat beside him. Emma didn’t know precisely how or when it happened, but he had become almost a friend after the deal was struck. She spent as much time with him as she did Lance and, despite the fact she thought he was extremely odd, she had grown fond of him. “Because I think he was trying to make her happy at first. I told you she wasn’t the only one to make mistakes. This whole thing is my fault. It was my foolish pursuit of wealth that drove her to this, endlessly trying to carve my name into the family tomes as one of the best empire builders in the dynasty. If I had been there for her, if I had just listened when she tried to tell me what she needed…well, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“I hope for your sake this works.”

“And I hope for your sake, the next time a man tries to give you an emerald, you keep it.”

“How do you know I didn’t keep it?”

“Because I think I’m starting to know Emma Swan,” he explained with a wink and smile before pulling her up and taking her to the east wing. Dropping her off at her room, he teased, “Get some rest, dear. Cinderella needs to be at her best for the ball.”

With a sardonic grin, she countered, “Hard to be at your best when you know every Cinderella has her midnight.”

Hours later, after a nap and a fortifying drink, she shrugged into her form-fitting green dress like it was battle armor. She was joking earlier when she said a proposal would be forthcoming, but she had no doubt Lance would make a proposition of some kind. The trick would be to keep him on the line without actually following through with anything.

She left her room as late as possible to avoid spending too much time around the pampered elite who were her housemates that weekend. While she had met a fair few during her crash course in Misthaven society, Arthur was the only one she didn’t mind having a conversation with, but he was unlikely to abandon Guin’s side to keep her company. Especially since it would put a damper on Lance’s pursuit.

Her destination was the expansive, three-tiered back deck, illuminated by thousands of clear fairy lights and a fair number of fireflies, the faint breeze carrying the briny smell of the ocean that lay only a few feet beyond their well-tended lawn. The men in tuxedos added a dashing contrast to their partners’ colorful evening gowns and cocktail dresses. A string quartet was playing off to the side; the beautiful melody drifted through the party in a way that enhanced the romantic atmosphere to a point it made her hurt.

She was surprised to see Arthur standing alone through the wall of windows. She stopped to take in the scene, complete with busy waitstaff and tables of food.

She couldn’t wait to get away.

“Alright, Guinevere, you want to talk, let’s talk. I have a few serious words to say.”

Silently moving until the curtains partially hid her, Emma watched as Lance and Guinevere made their way toward the patio. Guinevere’s eyes were red and she was fretting with a handkerchief gripped tightly between her hands. “As if you had two serious words in your whole vocabulary, Lance.”

“I could make a very noble speech. Tell you we were just two ships passing in the night, but the truth is, Arthur is my friend. I don’t want to break up a happy marriage. We’ve been playing with fire, but it’s better to end this now before someone gets hurt.”

“Funny how none of that mattered until the baroness showed up. I know you think you are in love with her. I can see it in your face every time she is around. You’re behaving like a schoolboy. You’re a darling, but you need to be careful. We don’t know anything about her. All we have is her word that she is who she says she is. I’ve asked around; no one has ever heard of her. Maybe her hair is dyed, and maybe she’s poisoned three husbands. Sidney told me there was some man calling her a swan and chasing her at her hotel today. It had all the staff talking.”

“You’re jealous, Guin.”

“Terribly. Fun, isn’t it?” The woman rushed from the room, tears flowing freely now. Emma didn’t move from her hiding place, instead waiting until he had joined the party before she followed in his footsteps.

—

As she predicted, Lance made sure he was her partner for most of the night. She followed Guin’s movements with alarm, knowing the woman was on edge and fearful of what she may do if she felt she had nothing to lose. Her glance met Arthur’s when she saw his wife and Sidney go inside, heads close together and a look of shock crossing Guin’s face. The other man nodded at her and trailed after them at a distance.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to let Lance lead her away from the party into the formal gardens spreading north of the patio. Perhaps she was tired of having to put a fake smile on her face, or maybe she was simply tired.

He kept a steady stream of conversation going, mostly unanswered on her side, and navigated them down an old stone path to a large fountain surrounded by benches and meticulously pruned rose bushes. “Please don’t interrupt, dear, but suppose we were to follow this path all the way to the garage and take my car for a ride through the countryside.”

“Oh, the make-believe game! It’s always been one of my favorites. But why stop at the countryside, Lance? Why not go on a tour of the moon while we’re at it?”

“I asked you not to interrupt,” he teased, pulling her arm through his and continuing to amble further away from the house. “You see, this isn’t some random trip. We have a particular place we are heading. A little estate by the lake where an opinionated old dame lives. It’s twenty ’til midnight. If we leave now, we can make it as dawn is breaking.”

Intrigued despite herself, she asked, “And what business would we have at this chateau by the lake?”

“I want you to meet my mother. To introduce you to her and tell her that I’ve met the one. Then the pale light of dawn will shine on the first day of our lives together.”

He was serious, and she felt like the lowest of human beings when she joked back, “I doubt the day will be the only thing breaking when that bombshell drops. Were we going to share the news with my husband before or after our visit?”

Before he could respond, Arthur called out from behind them on the path, “Baroness Jones, I believe you promised me a dance.”

He reached them seconds later with a pointed look at her. Although he was the picture of sophistication, she could tell by his quick pace something had happened. “A midnight dance as I remember.”

“Of course, please excuse me,” she murmured to Lance, who looked like he was about to protest as she took Arthur’s arm and allowed him to guide her back to the house. Keeping a calm expression on her face, she smiled and nodded to the people they passed and waited until they were out of earshot to ask, “What’s happened?”

“It’s midnight, dear. The ground has opened under our feet. That horrible friend of Guin’s, Sidney, did some digging and found out there is no Baroness Jones. They plan to make an announcement any moment now. I’m sorry I brought you into this mess, Emma.”

They reached the dance floor Arthur installed on the deck specifically for the party, but neither felt like dancing. Instead, they hovered along the back wall and waited for the troublesome pair to return from their scheming.

Sighing, she nudged his shoulder. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. We never really stood a chance at this working.”

“But we were so close. I could feel Guin changing, turning back to me. Now I may as well help her pack her bags,” he replied, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one off to her. Clicking his glass against hers in a mock toast, he muttered, “Here’s to wasted years and endless torment.”

He downed the entire glass and, when she only took a sip, he reached out and downed hers as well.

She wasn’t sure what he had to be upset about. She was the one who was going to be exposed as a charlatan, forced to exit under the judgmental gazes of a house full of people who would dine on the story for months to come. Just as she was about to point out it could be worse, she saw Guin descend the stairs with Sidney hot on her heels. “Here we go.”

“I’ll stand by you as best I can,” Arthur promised, his hand coming to rest in the small of her back as if to provide some physical barrier against what was about to happen.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I have a moment of your time? As you know, Arthur and I pride ourselves on providing the best of entertainment at our parties, and I think you’ll find tonight’s will not disappoint. I have a story to share that I think will delight and amuse you. Under our roof tonight, we have a guest claiming one of the oldest names in European aristocracy.”

A murmur started in the crowd, musicians laying down their instruments, even the waitstaff and caterers ceased what they were doing. It seemed as if the entire universe held its breath waiting for Guin to continue. She could tell the woman enjoyed every moment of it.

“I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the heraldry of Cambridge nobility, but let me assure you that in all of England, there is no—“

From the patio entrance, the footman interrupted in a booming voice to announce the arrival of a late guest of note. “Baron Killian Jones.”

Emma had to grab Arthur’s arm to keep from falling when her knees buckled. In the soft light, the Captain looked like a fantasy. His dark hair mussed in a way that looked intentional, but she knew it resulted from repeatedly running his hand through it when he was frustrated. He was outfitted in a tuxedo, the crisp white shirt making his stubble seem even more dangerous in the moonlight. He surveyed the crowd looking for her, supremely unconcerned he had the attention of the entire party.

Arthur looked at the mysterious stranger and then took in her aghast expression and whispered, “Do you know him?”

At that moment, Killian’s eyes met hers and the heat she saw there made it difficult to think, much less speak. “Yes. Yes, I know him.”

“Right. All hope isn’t lost then,” Arthur said with forced cheerfulness as he disengaged her death grip on his arm and went to greet their visitor. In a loud voice, so nobody would have to strain to hear, he said, “Welcome to my home, my dear Baron. It’s been a long time since we’ve met.”

Despite the fact the men had never laid eyes on each other before, Emma observed the Captain as he quickly assessed the lay of the land and responded, “Yes, years and years. I hope you don’t mind me trespassing on your hospitality. I only just arrived in town and the hotel staff informed me my wife was spending the weekend here. I couldn’t wait to see her.”

“With such a charming companion, no one blames you,” Guinevere said smoothly, giving Sidney a look meant to quell any further talk and rushing to meet their newest arrival. “She’s kept us all so diverted this past week.”

Giving the woman a slight grin, he nodded. “I’m sure. She’s nothing if not diverting.”

Moving away from the Soberanos, he took the stairs two at a time until he was standing in front of her, mouth twisted in amusement and eyes on fire. He seemed to drink in the sight of her from the artless way the curls were falling down her back to how her hand was white-knuckled from holding on to a nearby chair.

“You found me.” Somehow her words sounded like both an accusation and a thank you. Her eyes searched his face for some clue as to why he was there.

“Did you ever doubt I would?”

Before anything else could be said, he pulled her into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. Plundering her mouth, not caring they had an audience numbering in the hundreds, he shifted his grip, one hand making its way to her hair and cradling the back of her head. The other drifted lower, moving her body until it pressed against the long length of his. The thin fabric of her dress allowed the heat of him to soak through to her skin which suddenly felt tight and she was desperate for more contact.

She leaned into him, allowing her hands finally to comb through the hair that had haunted her dreams. The silky strands provided a contrast to the rough drag of his facial scruff against her cheek, the feeling of him in her arms doing exactly what she wanted almost pushing her into sensory overload. She didn’t think, who could when faced with such an onslaught, her body moving on instinct. She moaned into his mouth, tongues tangling and tasting of champagne and need.

A throat cleared in the distance and reality came crashing back. Reluctantly, Killian pulled back, resting his forehead against hers and breathing unevenly.

With quiet wonder, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I was hungry to see my little wife.”

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[dwead-piwate-meggers]

Someone Else’s Shoes

In which Farah starts planning for Pride, and Charlotte and Tina have a not-versation about how sometimes things just don’t fit. For @wayhavensummer festival Day 5 - Pride Festivals, bonus challenge: belonging.

Charlotte Langford & Tina Poname & Farah Hauville; Tina/Farah (background) Approx. wc: 1089 Rating: t, for mild swearing Warnings: biphobia/bi erasure, internalized biphobia, aphobia, internalized aphobia

Common Room, Agency Facility in the Big City

“You’re not coming!?” Charlotte flinches as Farah’s voice and disappointment ring through the windowless room. “But you’re not, you know, a” she pauses, looking around at the no one else around to make sure that they aren’t listening in, before dropping her voice to stage whisper the word, “cop” as if it was a piece of classified information, “anymore. You can totally come now!”

Resignation from the Wayhaven PD had been a requirement of their turning, hers and Tina’s - too hard to keep their agelessness a secret if they were always out and about in such a small town - so Farah had taken it upon herself to make PLANS for their first opportunity to join Pride in over a decade.

It’s very kind of her.

She had also decided to regale them with the details of said plans while they were trying to finish the absolute reams of documents the Agency required the newly turned to read through.

Charlotte assumes that, at least, is more for Tina’s benefit than hers.

In any case, she runs a hand through her hair, (it’s a strange sensation, somehow lighter and more substantial at the same time, like she can feel every single strand, but they weigh less than they should), “I...wasn’t really planning on it.”

“But I thought…” the young vampire pulls a fang over her bottom lip. “Oh.”

There’s a half-beat in which Charlotte considers how, exactly, she’s going to talk her way around this one, before Tina jumps in, “She was bad at parties before. Now? With the whole,” she circles her hands around her ears, hypersenses, still adjusting, “Migraine central, right?”

Farah takes it in, nodding (Morgan rarely goes either, for similar reasons) before brightening up again, the lightbulb moment so clear it’s almost an audible ding. “Oooooh, I have to check on something!”

She leans down to kiss Tina on the cheek before launching herself over the back of the couch and out of the door, a shouted, “Catch you later, babe! You too Charlotte!” thrown over her shoulder.

Charlotte waits until the sound of footsteps has died away. “Thanks,” she mutters.

“For what?”

The look she gives Tina - head tilted back, eyebrows raised - says, ‘For covering for me.’

Tina’s response is a slight frown and stuck-out tongue, Nothing to thank me for. “I’m not nailing your panties to the flagpole, Char,” she says.

Charlotte turns back to the papers in front of her with a snort. “There’s an image,” she says, dodging the swat aimed at her arm.

Dodging the first swat anyway. Tina throws a second, with just a little too much power behind it, and they both hiss when it connects, rubbing arm and knuckles respectively. “You know what I mean.”

Silence, again. Charlotte knows the question is coming. That it will come in three heartbeats.

One. T- “You want to talk about it?” Tina asks. Their hearts beat slower now; she’ll have to learn to account for that.

“Not really.” Charlotte shrugs.

Lub-, the mitral and tricuspid valves go first. If she concentrates, she can feel them move, and... Oh. Eugh. Dub- She can feel her pulse. As in, the blood flowing through her veins. All of her veins. That’s... deeply unsettling. Has that always felt like that? Lub-

“You know you’ve got as much right to be there as I do,” Tina says quietly. One-and-a-half beats, then. It’s one-and-a-half beats now.

She doesn’t reply. It doesn’t matter. Her silence speaks for her. Do I?

“I mean, they’re bi. Obviously they’ve been with both.”

They’re a stranger’s words. They shouldn’t matter. But, still... Lub-dub, lub-

“That’s some bullshit.”

“I didn’t say anything!” She gives up pretending to fill in the form, leans back on the couch and rests her head against the backrest.

“You didn’t need to.” Tina has her arms crossed, a small smile playing over her pink-painted lips. (It was the first thing she forced herself to re-adjust to, lipstick. Charlotte had personally considered clothes of slightly more importance, but to each their own.) “I can hear you just fine.”

Charlotte just rolls her eyes.“Vampires can’t read minds, Tee.”

“Best friends can, stupid. I knew what you were thinking before the superpowers!” There’s a pause, while Tina twirls her pen between her fingers, before she adds, “You know you belong, Char.”

“Any girl who’s into girls...”

Not a stranger, this time. And it was just the heat of the moment, but...

“Oh my god, help. I’m so bi…”

It’s not like it’s rare.

She just hums in response.

“It’s not like there’s some kind of agency that checks.” Tina reiterates, putting on a mock-official voice “You must be at least this queer to join.”

Charlotte snorts at that. “What, queer passports?”

“Get a stamp for every time you get laid?”

Ah. It must show on her face.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Tee,” she says with a sigh, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before, “I’m just being oversensitive.”

“You’re being the normal amount of sensitive. Which just feels like oversensitive for you because your baseline is super undersensitive.”

“That’s not a word.”

“That’s not important. You’d feel better if you would just talk about things,” she emphasises each word with a poke to the leg, “with your best friend.”

Lub-dub, there won’t be a follow-up question. Lub-dub. Tina’s done her prodding (literal and figurative), it’s just a matter of who gives in first. Lub-dub.

Charlotte toys with the ends of her hair, looking for the right words, (she can never find them when she needs them). How can she explain the way the words eat and eat until the scraps fall away in her hands? How the definitions twist and turn until they don’t seem to work, don’t seem to apply anymore? The way it’s impossible to feel like she belongs - she's only ever reminded of all of the ways that she doesn't.

She sighs. Lub-dub. (It’s always her that gives in first.) “It’s like… you remember that summer when we had the same shoes?”

They’d been the same size, then, before Tina’s growth spurt had hit, and Charlotte’s hadn’t. (Vampirism had just made it worse, Tina gaining four inches to Charlotte’s one.)

Tina laughs, “Matching wardrobes you mean. And we were always putting the wrong ones on?”

In spite of herself, Charlotte chuckles along. “But we always knew right away. Because they just felt kind of...”

“Off?”

Off. Yes. That. “Exactly.” She tips her head back to look up at the ceiling. “They just feel… off.”

[akalei]

Today’s The Day

I’m not dead and neither is this AU! Thank you all so much for the love and as always I hope you enjoy and please feel free to send me asks for more info :)

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Today was THE day and Marinette was a complete mess. She barely slept but still managed to miss her alarm. While getting dressed she not only banged her knee on her desk but also fell down the stairs. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a complete and utter mess and she was only a bystander. 

“Marinette, why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast?” her mother asked, looking at her daughter, concerned as she got up from the ground. 

Marinette bit her lip as she glanced over at the empty bowl and plate of croissants on the table, “I don’t know Mom,” she placed a hand on her stomach already filled with knots, “I’m too nervous to eat.”

Sabine shook her head, “I know you’re worried about Adrien but there’s nothing more you can do to help him,” she reached out and kissed Marinette’s forehead, “just have faith and eat.” 

Marinette raised an eyebrow, it wasn’t like she didn’t have faith in Adrien or his Justice League approved lawyers, she just doesn’t trust Gabriel Agreste to keep things lawful. 

Thankfully she was interrupted by a knock on the door, “sit down Sweetheart, I’ll get it,” her mother said as she lightly patted Marinette on the shoulder. Marinette did as she was told but didn’t touch the croissants. 

“Marinette, Sweetheart it’s your friends from your club!” Sabine called out. Confused Marinette turned around to face the entryway to see Dick, M’gann, and Connor in her house. 

“Today’s the day,” Dick said with a smile, “are you ready?” 

All Marinette could do was just stare at him, it even took her a minute to realize her mouth was open, “what are you guys doing here?”

“We came because we were worried about you,” a voice said, belonging to a young man with forest green eyes who was standing apart from the rest of her friends. 

“D-Damien?” Marinette squeaked, surprised to see him here. The boy didn’t give more than a shrug in response, his attention on anywhere but her. 

“Are you done with breakfast Mari?” M’gann asked glancing at her empty plate, “because all of us were planning on watching the broadcast together in our hotel room,” 

Marinette was still in shock, unable to form a complete sentence. Why in the world would they be here? It wasn’t their problem-

“We came because we’re friends,” Marinette glanced over at Connor, who always seemed to answer her unsaid questions, “we wanted to support you, both of you.” 

Marinette felt the tension leave her shoulders, and she smiled, “Thank you,” she stood up and tugged her bag over her shoulder, ready to go,  “I mean it.” 

 * * *

Marinette was overwhelmed, first by the size of Dick’s hotel room, and then by how many of her friends came to show their support. Perhaps she and Adrien weren’t as much of outsiders as they believed they were in the Justice League. 

As soon as the broadcast started Marinette had plopped herself on the edge of one of the seats within the hotel room. She sat tall and rigid, her nerves as clear as day to Damien who had settled in the seat next to her. Damien didn’t pay much attention to the TV screen, his eyes trained on Marinette and her ever-changing expressions. As the court case progressed, Marinette’s knee bounced in anticipation and she gnawed on her lower lip with nerves. Caught between concern and annoyance Damien placed his hand on her knee to cease its bouncing. 

Surprised, Marinette tore her gaze away from the screen to look at him. Her face red with embarrassment, “Sorry,” she apologized, her lower lip still caught under her teeth. 

Damien grunted in response and left his land resting on top of her knee, keeping it from bouncing. Marinette quirked an eyebrow, unsure whether or not he was annoyed with her or just concerned in his own way. Soon the court broke for recess and the live broadcast switched to commercials. Without uttering a word, Damien pulled Marinette up by the hand and led them outside of the hotel room. 

“What’re you-?” Marinette started to ask but trailed off as Damien stopped in front of a vending machine. He angrily fed it some euros and punched buttons, after, the machine spat out a bag of chips.

“Here, I know you haven’t had anything to eat,” he thrust the bag of chips out to her, “and you’re beginning to stress me out.”

Marinette gently took the bag from him, “sorry and thank you,” she smiled at him. 

Damien wouldn’t meet her eyes, “no problem,” he leaned back against the vending machine, “anyways who is this guy to make you this worried?” he looked back at her almost reluctantly, “is he your boyfriend?”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she let out a small laugh, “no, no we’re not dating,” she paused to figure out how to phrase their relationship, “he’s my partner, my person.” She opened the bag of chips and popped one into her mouth, “We met when we were 13 as civilians and had no idea that we were partners,”

Damien’s brow furrowed, “what do you mean you didn’t know?”

Marinette smiled, “just that, our master told us that we could never reveal our identities. That we could never trust anyone with that secret,” she shrugged, “and at the time we were so overwhelmed with everything going on we didn’t second guess the rule.” 

“Sometimes it’s easier not to trust others,” Damien said crossing his arms across his chest, “you’re safer only trusting yourself.” 

Marinette shook her head, “I disagree, when your fighting to protect others and risking your life,” she paused to catch Damien’s eye, “you don’t want to be alone, you want to have others supporting you and you have to be able to trust that they’ll have your back. And if that isn’t an option, you have to trust that they’ll make sure everyone else survives.”

There was a gravity to Marinette’s words that Damien wasn’t expecting. He knew that she was a hero, like his father, his brothers, like everyone in that hotel room but he didn’t realize how serious she was. She wasn’t a hero because it looked cool, she was a hero because she wanted to protect everyone even at the cost of her life. Uncomfortable with the sudden realization he changed the topic, “back to Adrien, how did the two of you go from not knowing anything to becoming partners that you’d risk everything for?”

Marinette huffed out a laugh, “we had to grow up,” she popped another chip into her mouth, “we learned what being Miraculous holders meant, that we were cosmically linked and the responsibility that we have to bear forced us to reevaluate what was important to us. And after what happened with the invasion, Adrien and I were done with secrets. If we were to be heroes we were going to do it our way, on our terms.”

“So what happened to land the two of you in this situation?” Damien asked, “I know bits and pieces from Tim and Dick but-” he trailed off.

Marinette folded her half-empty chip bag, “well, it’s a bit complicated. Adrien’s home situation was never the same after his mom died. His father pulled away from the public eye and Adrien was completely isolated in his own home. He was only allowed to go to school after some major convincing from our friend Chloe Bourgeois who is also the mayor’s daughter. And even then if he didn’t live up to his father’s expectations he was immediately confined back home. Long story short he was being abused and thought it was normal,” Marinette looked up from the chip bag, “and then we found out that his father is Hawkmoth,”

Damien’s eyes widened. 

“So to the public today is all about exposing Gabriel Agreste’s shitty parenting but for the League, the Team, for me it’s about ensuring that he’s safe.”  

Damien nodded, not knowing what else to say.  

Marinette just smiled as if sensing his unease, “We should get back, don’t want to miss the verdict.” 

Damien followed Marinette back to the hotel room. He watched her stare at the screen, hands wrinkling the chip bag. But his mind was elsewhere, when he first met the girl he thought he had her all figured out. It was in his training to observe and read people, to determine if they were threats or not. And Marinette seemed like an idealistic hero, just like the other kids he met through his father and brothers. Sidekicks who were training to be heroes because of a dream or because they somehow obtained powers. Kids who didn’t know the harsh reality of the world they live in, the reality that Damien had been trained and prepared for since his birth. He thought Marinette was one of those sidekicks, perhaps a little less idiotic but she was so kindhearted, so idealistic. But he was wrong, about many things. About Marinette’s strength, the reason why she’s a hero, and about her partner. Damien didn’t want to admit it but the little rich boy he had written off as a joke, as a poor excuse of a hero was actually a lot like him. 

“It’s over!” Marinette shouted and startled Damien. He looked up at the television screen to see Adrien with a look of relief on his face, and a scowl on Gabriel Agreste’s. The entire room erupted into a ruckus and suddenly, Marinette pressed a kiss against Damien’s cheek. Shocked, Damien lifted a hand, and lightly brushed his fingers against his cheek. He looked down to see Marinette with a big grin on her face, wondering what the hell had happened.

“Adrien won, we won!”

[obwjam]

the tiniest jedi

okay folks, here we go... i’d like to introduce you all to my oc, Jedi Knight Jayla Nor’al! she is five inches tall, 22 years old and the former padawan of good ol’ yoda. she was knighted so she could fight in the clone wars, and now she’s off to help command her first-ever battalion! 

when i rewatched clone wars recently i basically took note of episodes where a tiny could fit into the plot (spoiler: there’s a lot lol) so this is part 1 of the first installment of me recreating the filoniverse into the obwjamverse

i hope y’all enjoy <3 love you all sm

the hidden enemy, part 1

>> part two

To say Jedi Knight Jayla Nor’al was nervous would be a tremendous understatement.

It had taken a lot of convincing that bordered on begging to get the council to agree to this. Having Anakin vouch for her seemed like a good idea in theory, but in practice it usually ended with Obi-Wan rubbing his eyes while the council fiercely debated the merits of Anakin’s argument. 

Anakin was always sticking up for her. She was a few years older than he was, but more than anyone, he understood what it was like to have a tough life. They first met one day when he was a padawan, no more than 13 years old. Obi-Wan was sent off on a mission by himself to retrieve a holocron and a disgruntled Anakin went to Yoda to continue his training. He was far more advanced than the group of younglings he was with, but before he could complain too much, something -- no, someone -- caught his eye.

She was standing on a table at all of five inches tall, arms crossed in a dim corner of the room. The other younglings were practicing basic combat stances. She looked rather bored with it all. Anakin would have probably glossed right over her if it wasn’t for the tunic she was wearing.

“Master Yoda, who is that?” Anakin asked while the group was taking a break. She had now sat down, cross-legged, with her eyes closed and her shoulders relaxed. He marveled at how her tiny silhouette almost blended in with the scenery entirely.

“My padawan, she is,” Yoda stated. 

“Padawan?” Anakin was shocked. Obi-Wan never told him Yoda had a padawan.

Yoda hummed. “Surprised, you are, hmm?”

Anakin could only nod as Yoda trotted over to her. “Well, it’s… she’s…”

“Padawan Nor’al, ready, you are?” he asked quietly. Anakin gasped at how Yoda practically towered over this tiny person. She calmly opened her eyes and gave a single nod.

“Younglings, gather here,” Yoda called out to the group. He nodded to Anakin, who curiously followed. He heard a couple of the other younglings snicker in disbelief. “Demonstrate Form III, my padawan will. Close attention to footwork, you must pay.”

Anakin’s eyes widened as a training remote whirred to life. To a normal-sized person, practicing with a remote could sting if you didn’t know know what you were doing. But she was not a normal-sized person. That remote must look like a tank to her!

“Master Yoda--” Anakin started, but Yoda held his hand up.

“You may begin.”

What Anakin witnessed next may or may not have changed his life. 

It was like she knew where the blasts were going before they were even fired. She was so quick that Anakin’s eyes could barely adjust to the blinding speed she seemed to be moving at. She firmly stood her ground as she deflected blast after blast, her eyes moving wildly as she deciphered the shooting pattern of the remote. She found her opening, charged forward, leaped up and sunk her lightsaber straight through the metal. The droid sputtered and sparked before falling to the table, lifeless. She hopped down and gave Yoda a small bow as if nothing had even happened.

“Thank you, padawan. Continue to practice, younglings. Much work to do, you have.”

Still in shock, the younglings picked up their sabers and began to practice, some yelping in surprise when the blasts stung at their legs. She had made it look so easy.

She was taking note of the younglings’ form when she paused to raise her eyebrow. Anakin was still standing there.

“Staring is rude,” she said shortly. Looking at her up close, Anakin could clearly see how she was nervously eyeing him.

“That was really cool,” he said, crouching down a bit so he didn’t loom too large. 

She gave a small smirk. “Master Yoda is a good teacher.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Jayla... Jayla Nor’al,” she said, giving Anakin heavy side-eye. What does he want?

“My name’s Anakin. I’m Master Kenobi’s padawan.”

“Anakin Skywalker?” she asked incredulously. “What -- what are you doing here?”

“My master is on a mission and didn’t want to take me.” 

She scoffed. “That’s silly. Padawans should always be with their masters to learn.”

“Tell that to Obi-Wan,” Anakin sighed. “Does Master Yoda take you on missions with him?”

Anakin’s lips pursed into a frown as she sat down, looking dejected. “Mostly, yeah. But sometimes I think he thinks I’m too… well… you know.”

“Too small.”

She gave him a surprised look. “Yeah.”

“A little ironic, coming from him.”

Jayla laughed. “You can’t say that!”

Anakin laughed back. “Sure I can.”

It was hard for Jayla to really grow close to anyone, no matter how hard she tried to befriend the others. Anakin knew exactly how that felt. The two were lonely, and they found each other. Their friendship only grew stronger as they got older -- Jayla helped Anakin learn to trust in the Force more and Anakin helped Jayla grow her confidence. Obi-Wan admired how well they complimented each other.

Yoda eventually began to take Jayla on more dangerous missions. Spending time with Anakin and Obi-Wan had diversified her skill set more than most padawans and, as the Jedi Council sensed the growing discourse between the light and the dark, Jayla and Anakin were both knighted so they could fight in the Clone War.

But everyone had underestimated the fierceness and enormity of the conflict.

It was evident from the beginning of her training that Jayla was fearless -- that she would not let her size stop her from doing anything. She was a fierce negotiator; a skilled fighter; she had a deep and powerful connection to the Force. And yet, her size was the very thing stopping the council from giving her any responsibilities outside of putting together training recordings, teaching younglings and spearheading negotiations.

“I can’t believe this,” Jayla groaned to Obi-Wan one rare quiet day on Coruscant. Anakin was off on a recon mission. Obi-Wan had duties to attend to, but he would always take a pause to talk with Jayla.

“If Master Yoda and the council feel this is for the best, then you need to listen.”

“I didn’t become a Jedi to play it safe. I just… I don’t understand why Yoda keeps babying me.”

“You’ve only recently become a Jedi knight,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “You need to be patient.”

“Yeah, the council did that so I could fight in the war.” Jayla got up, pacing around the windowsill. “I mean, it doesn’t make sense! I’m trained in combat. I have useful skills. I’ve been out there before, Obi-Wan! Why spend my entire life telling me ‘size matters not, hmm’, then use it as a reason to hold me back?”

Obi-Wan frowned. He hated how her frame seemed to get swallowed up by the bustling backdrop of the Republic captial outside.

“Can I be honest?” Obi-Wan asked slowly. Jayla’s expression softened as she plopped down, resting her elbows on her knees and meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze a few feet from her. 

“Always.” 

“Well, I shouldn’t really tell you this, but I think it’s important that you know. The council has its reservations, but they mostly agree that you are more than capable of being a general. It’s… it’s the Chancellor who has persuaded them into keeping you here.”

“The Chancellor? Why would he care?”

“It’s my understanding that many in the senate feel it would be a sign of weakness if you were to command a battalion.”

“That’s ridiculous! It’s not even the senate’s decision to make!” she cried.

“On military matters, it is. And until Chancellor Palpatine changes his mind, then I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done.”

Jayla tried to forget about that conversation every time she got upset. But as the conflict raged on and Republic forces took beating after beating on the Outer Rim worlds, Obi-Wan felt the situation was becoming dire. It was less about who had strength and more about who had the tactical advantage. The better strategy. The better intelligence. 

Yoda too felt desperate. He was engulfed in the war and convinced that winning it was the only way to save the galaxy from certain doom. He heard the plight of his former padawan day after day, to the point where he began to question if his gut feeling was really right. He hadn’t been meditating as much lately. The Force always gave him the guidance he needed. Between Anakin, Obi-Wan and her own former master, the council was able to convince Palpatine that allowing her to lead stealth and recon missions was a perfectly reasonable starting point.

Since it was nearly impossible to plant a conventional spy into the droid army, Jalya and Anakin had conspired and came up with the idea of using her as a spy. Mace Windu was concerned about her being captured. Anakin argued that her life sign registered so faintly on scanners that capture wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Ki-Adi-Mundi feared she would get lost in the blur of so much violence. Obi-Wan said that all she needed was a wrist comm and someone to use as transportation and protection.

So after months of debating, planning, talking to Yoda and gear-building, the perfect situation had arisen. Today, it was finally going to happen.

And she… didn’t know how to feel.

She was accompanying Anakin and Obi-Wan on the Resolute to Christophsis, where the GAR was getting whalloped day after day. Most recently, a secret plan was thwarted before it had even gotten underway. It was obvious that the Separatists were somehow accessing Republic intelligence. And it was Jayla’s job to find out how.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

From the comfort and privacy of sleeping quarters, she was perched pensively on Anakin’s shoulder; which, in retrospect, was probably a bad place to be with the way she was fiddling with her hands and bouncing her leg. 

“Don’t ask me that when you already know the answer,” Jayla mumbled. 

“I didn’t, actually, but thanks for confirming it for me.”

Jayla groaned. “I’m not nervous about going into the field.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be.”

“It’s…” she started, but couldn’t bring herself to admit. She was hoping Anakin could connect the dots.

“It’s… what? It’s the ship?” Anakin knew how much she hated flying.

“This isn’t my first Star Destroyer. It’s the starfighters that make me sick.”

“Okay, so it’s not the ship. Is it Obi-Wan?”

Jayla sniffed a laugh. “Why would it be Obi-Wan?”

“Well, it took a little bit of convincing to get him to agree to this.”

“You mean a lot of convincing,” she sighed. “I can personally guarantee you that Obi-Wan is not making me nervous.”

“Well, Tiny, I’m at a loss--” 

Anakin was cut off at the sound of his wrist comm beeping. She quickly grabbed onto a stray piece of his hair for support as he moved his arm up.

“Anakin, Jayla, come meet me at the bridge. Captain Rex will be arriving here shortly.”

“Copy that.” Anakin turned his head slightly to meet Jayla’s gaze, and the Force flashed in a brief moment of worry. Anakin furrowed his brows.

“You’re nervous about Rex?”

Jayla sucked in a deep breath. “No -- not particularly -- no. No, I’m not nervous about Rex.”

Anakin knew she was lying, but he wasn’t about to push it. After all, he didn’t want Obi-Wan lecturing him for being late. Again.

Jayla clung to Anakin’s robe as they made their way through the gray halls of the ship. Even from her perspective, the walls seemed suffocating, so Jayla kept her eyes trained on the ground, avoiding the gaze of every trooper that passed. The rigidness of clone armor was… off-putting.

As they approached the bridge doors, Jayla cautiously took a seat and closed her eyes. When all else failed, the Force was always there for her, guiding her and bringing her to a place where she felt at ease. Going into this mission with any apprehension would be fatal, and she knew it. The Force was pulling her toward the battlefield -- to Anakin, to Obi-Wan, to the citizens of the worlds they were helping to protect. The Jedi Order was her life, and that meant she was forever in service to the people of the galaxy that needed her. She was chosen by the will of the Force; bestowed this great power that so many lusted after. In the galaxy’s biggest conflict, she could finally start making a difference. She could finally be worthy of the gift she was given.

“There’s gonna be a lot of clones in there, you know.” Anakin’s tongue-in-cheek remark broke her from her meditation. “You could always turn back and let me and Obi-Wan handle this.”

Jayla sniffed a laugh. “And let you have all the fun? I’m alright, Anakin, I promise.” She paused, took one glance up at her giant friend, and stood up. “I’m ready for this.”

Anakin smirked. “Well then, here we go.”

The vastness and buzzing energy of the bridge brought about a sensation that Jayla would never get tired of. There were clones on the lower levels punching buttons and pulling levers; there were clones standing around tables, going over strategy and making sure they were ready for the fight. Then there was Obi-Wan, standing in front of a star map and pretending to read it. His mind was occupied with other things.

Anakin nodded his head to Obi-Wan. “Master.”

“Ah, Anakin. And here I thought you’d show up late.”

“For Tiny’s first mission as a general? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Is now really the best time to bring up nicknames?” Jayla groaned. It was times like these she was glad she was small; nobody could see her blush.

“I thought it’d help loosen the tension.”

“Sure you did.” She wasn’t going to admit it, but in his weird Skywalker way, it did help bring her back down to earth. This was her first mission as a military general. She outranked nearly everyone in the room. To the clones, that meant everything. Even if they didn’t want to listen to her… they had to.

It was then she noticed a tiny brown bag on the holotable below. Just poking out of the side was something that looked like armor. 

Armor fit for a tiny.

She slid off Anakin’s shoulder and flipped down to the holotable. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but grin as she pulled out two shoulder pads, two wrist guards, a pair of black gloves and a torso pad. They fit perfectly.

“We couldn’t have you going out in the field unprepared,” Obi-Wan said as she practiced some stances in her new armor.

“Huh. You look like a tiny Obi-Wan,” Anakin smiled.

“I thought we were done with the degrading comments,” you said smugly.

“Oh, very funny, you two. It’s a wonder the council took this long to allow you both to work together.”

Jayla was prepared for another quip when the main door slid open. Her eyes first fell on the wide shoulder wing, then to the Jaig eyes painted on his helmet. She had never seen clone armor quite like what Rex was wearing. She blinked and straightened her posture.

“Captain Rex. Nice of you to finally join us,” Anakin joked.

“Sorry sir. Needed to help Fives find his other blaster.”

“He lost it again?”

“...more like misplaced,” Rex clarified.

“Good to see your troops are on top of things, Anakin,” Obi-Wan quipped.

“Sorry sir,” Rex repeated. Jayla could sense… unease. “So, where’s the new general?”

Anakin’s lips curled into a smile. He had told Rex that the 501st was to be accompanied on this mission by a Jedi knight who was a master of stealth. When Rex asked who it was, Anakin refused to say. He wanted it to be a surprise.

“Rex, I’d like you to meet Jedi General Jayla Nor’al.”

Rex was glad he had kept his helmet on, because the look of confusion on his face would not have done him any more favors. 

“Uh… sir?” Rex asked cautiously, trying his best not to sound too lost. Is this some kind of joke?

“You know, I think it’s helpful to scan the entire room before saying something.”

Rex’s stomach dropped. That voice… that voice was coming from the holotable. Ever so slowly, he tilted his head down. He tried to keep his body language as neutral as possible, but he had a sinking feeling that all three Jedi in the room could sense his surprise.

“Oh,” was all Rex could utter for a moment. It was like this Jedi had stepped right out of a holoprojector and onto the table in front of him. This has to be some kind of test. She’s only a few inches tall! She won’t survive five seconds out on the battlefield. 

Anakin cleared his throat. Rex snapped back to attention.

“Right. Uh, sorry about that, sir,” Rex fumbled, giving this General Nor’al a nod of acknowledgment. “Nice… nice to meet you.”

Rex tensed up when Jayla ever so slightly rolled her eyes. He was surprised he could even see her do that.

“Likewise, Captain. General Skywalker has told me all about you.” She smiled softly when she sensed Rex’s heartbeat escalating. “All good things, of course.” 

She turned to Obi-Wan and, without either of them saying a word, Obi-Wan placed his hand next to Jayla and she casually stepped on, using his thumb for support as she was lifted up from the holotable.

“You’re going to be offering General Nor’al support in the field,” Obi-Wan said, tapping the holotable to life. “We’ve drawn up a plan to get her to the chief tactical droid stationed here to extract information and battle strategy.”

“I think we can finally turn the tide if we can get ahead of the Seps like they seem to keep getting ahead of us,” Jayla added. “Once I get the information, I’ll need an extraction team to get me out of there quickly.” Without warning, her tone shifted from stern to somber. “The last thing I need is to be caught by those stupid battle droids.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged a brief glance.

“I’ve got to finish some mission prep,” she said quickly. “When are we getting to Christophsis?”

“Should be there within the hour, sir,” Rex replied immediately. 

“Great.” She tried to peer through Rex’s helmet, but unsurprisingly, she only had the downturned expression plastered on the front to work with. Rex was not expecting to see a five-inch-tall Jedi -- that much was obvious. Her worry lied more in the possibility that she was embarrassing him just by being here. 

“I’m sure Anakin will become bored and come join us in, oh, five minutes or so,” Obi-Wan cut into her thoughts with a smug smile, throwing a glance to his friend as he walked out.

“For mission prep? You know me so well,” Anakin shot back with a smirk, turning back to the window. 

Before Obi-Wan left the room, he turned to Rex, who was all but frozen to his spot.

“Do come and join us when you’re done here,” he said shortly. Rex could only nod.

Once the doors finally closed behind him, he stiffly made his way to Anakin’s side and took off his helmet.

“Rex…” Anakin sighed, already prepared for the conversation they were about to have.

“Sir, you know I mean no disrespect…” Rex paused to see if Anakin would say something witty to that. He didn’t. “...but I’m not sure how well my men are going to respond to taking orders from someone who can fit in the palm of their hand. Especially someone who hasn’t done this before.”

“Rex, she’s a Jedi knight, just like me. She wouldn’t have achieved that rank if she wasn’t fully capable.”

“I--I believe you, General. It’s just… well, they’re used to the way things work. We’re used to a Jedi leading us through battle.”

“And she can’t do that?”

“Well, it’s not like she can cut through clankers like you or General Kenobi.”

Anakin was prepared for this, but it still didn’t change the awkwardness of the conversation. He knew how fierce of a Jedi she was. Rex didn’t. He was hoping this mission could change things. He knew as well as anyone else that a warrior of her size would wreak havoc against the Separatists if used properly. Plus, he knew how painfully boring it was to be stuck inside the temple all the time. He wanted this to work for her.

“Her strengths lie in other areas. She doesn’t need to cut through droids like me and Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, putting his hand on Rex’s shoulder. “Given the world she’s grown up in… the things she’s had to overcome… I’d say she’s the bravest out of all of us.”

Rex hummed and turned his gaze to the front of the ship. He never really grew tired of the swirling brilliant blue of hyperspace. He found himself wondering if it looked any different five inches off the ground.

“...I should go brief the men,” Rex said finally. 

“Yeah,” Anakin said, pursing his lips. “You probably should.”