#shout out to the same stock image of a heart I keep using as a reference every time I draw a heart

[mooseonahunt]

Trespasser

[searidings]

....🥺 can you please tell us more about that season 5 alternate ending where andrea ends up using the dagger pretty please, just like who does she end up hurting and the others reaction? if only you want to of course !

hooookay this ask got me to open that wip for the first time in a year and actually it's not that far from being complete! but idk how to finish it and i feel like i've done the s5 conflict resolution thing in multiple fics now like how many is too many? i fear i may have hit that limit. BUT since you asked, here is the beginning of it. please note:

1) this thing is angsty and also it's unfinished, so read at your own peril

2) because i wasn't ever expecting to finish/publish it, i've recycled bits of description from it into other fics. so if you see stuff i've repeated elsewhere no you don't <3

-

The last thing Lena sees is a flash like dark shadow pass over Andrea’s eyes, before a kryptonite dagger slides between her ribs.

The sound she emits is less of a scream and more of a surprised squeak as she sinks to the ground.

If you want to get to Supergirl, you’re gonna have to go through me.

It’s not that she hadn’t believed Andrea would do it. Lena was under no illusion of safety when she placed herself between Supergirl and the glowing green rock in Andrea’s hand. She’d come to terms with the possibility of dying for Kara long ago.

What she hadn’t been able to prepare for was the pain. The abstract of sacrifice was all well and good, but. Reality, this searing epicentre, a point of white hot agony turned molten, seeping through her body. No amount of her mother’s decorum training had prepared her for this.

Something is filling her mouth, thick and dark and oozing. She can’t scream. Kara sits, eyes silver, a world away. Kara. Lena has to move. She can’t. Andrea steps over her, and is that the pounding of receding footsteps or the dogged beat of Lena’s heart? Either way, it’s slowing. Every inhale cracks her body down the centre, each exhale buries shards of glass inside the gaping wound.

Her eyes are beginning to mist at the edges but she strains, listens. The sound that cuts through the haze is not the scream she dreads, Kara’s agony as her veins sear emerald. It’s not a scream, but a shout, and then a blur passes over her like light and shadow.

Concrete cracks, or perhaps it’s Lena’s ribs. Sounds are muffled now, the world dulled down like the inside of a snow globe. Underwater, time passes sluggishly to where she lies, drifting, encased in glass. But someone is fighting the current, resisting the pull. Hands grasp her shoulders, burning where they touch. Through the rolling fog comes Kara’s face, blurring out in red and blue and gold and sickly green. Lena wants to push her away, keep her separate from the venomous substance protruding from her chest, keep her untainted. But Kara’s hands are dancing there-away along her cheeks, her jaw, Lena’s own name sounding from her lips over and over, a siren song, calling her home. It’s raining now, wet spots peppering her brow, or maybe the sun is crying.

“Lena, Lena,” Kara is saying. It sounds like her heartbeat and she cannot bear for it to stop.

“Kara,” she manages, a whisper, a prayer.

Her face flashes within Lena’s line of sight for one perfect moment, and is she green-tinged or is it Lena’s failing vision? A shiver passes through the air between them, I’m sorry fluttering like a bloodstained white flag but whether it falls from her own lips or another’s, Lena cannot say. Then a sudden pressure at her ribs, a heavy push and release that feels like salvation and damnation all at once.

Lena hears a scream, two screams, billions. She is left gaping, open and exposed. Invaded by the air and exalted by the sticky-sweet blush of her own blood, her body purging itself. Through the slick of gathering crimson her head rolls to the side, darkness pressing in around her, eyes blazing with the final image of a limp hand on the ground beside her, veins shot through with glowing green.

-

For a long time, there is only darkness. The deepest blackness she has ever known, all-encompassing. Devouring light, thought, feeling. Lena floats, tethered to her own existence only by the pressing weight of the dark, closing in until the end of the world.

Slowly, sensations begin to blur in and out. Cold, a deadening flow, hooking into her very marrow and stripping her from the inside out. She drifts, and then there’s heat, scorching, radiating out from her ribs in scalding waves, and she wishes for numbness.

For a moment, Lena thinks she sees the star-burst of veins behind her eyelids, but then they are gone and all is black again. Sound fragments filter through her peripheral awareness. A great noise, banging and shouting and exploding. She slips back under.

Vibrations reach her, but they must be sounds because Lena no longer has a body with which to feel them. She floats, untethered, sinking beneath the surface of a dark ocean so vast it surely cannot know she’s there. In the deep, voices flicker.

“Haven’t you heard that you’re supposed to leave the knife in? She’s minutes from bleeding out.”

The blackness turns to blood around her, not vibrant red but sticky dark, the kind so loaded with the very force of someone’s life that it moves slowly, crawls under the weight of it, sucking light from all it touches.

“Her veins were green, Alex.”

An eternity passes.

She dreams of her mother, dark hair fanning behind her as she cuts through the still waters of the lake. The scene is calm, but the growing dread means Lena knows what’s coming and suddenly it’s not her mother but Kara before her, and the lake isn’t clear but radioactive, glowing green, and still Lena stands at the shore and watches her slip away, helpless.

Words float through the haze and Lena wishes she could reach out, grasp them, weigh them in her hands to know the truth behind them. Radiation and poisoned and flared and gone, the sounds making physical shapes in the darkness. She thinks of a child, two dark-haired children, of hours spent pouring over a dictionary. A cruel laugh when she got a definition wrong, grudging silence when she got it right. How she wishes now to be wrong, to mishear, a stay of judgment on the world these words conjure into being. But the focus is gone, and she slips away again.

“—whatever you have to do! Or so help me, I’ll—”

Though Lena is nothing now, just an exhale in the wind, she smiles. Warmth blooms, the blackness not crushing but caressing for a moment, and she drifts into memories of happier times.

A million years pass, a billion. Lena is upside down, and right way up, and no way up at all. If she still had a face, she might feel the pressure of a warm forehead against her own. If she still had hair, the imprint of lips pressed gently against it might still ache. If she hadn’t burned every meaningful bridge in her life in the year before her death, she might believe the trick of a whisper wrapping on the breeze, words of comfort, of promise.

But she had, so she doesn’t, and time collapses in on itself as Lena watches, motionless and alone.

-

Though she has always been nowhere, she can feel herself drifting further and further from the last thing that might just resemble a somewhere. The eons slow. If she were a doctor, Lena thinks, then this would be the time to make herself comfortable. To say her goodbyes.

She cannot look at blackness any longer, cannot bear the glowing green after-image that seems to stick to every corner and edge. She thinks of blue, of rain-washed skies and Kara’s eyes, conjures it into being with every fibre she has left. Wraps herself up in it, plunges headfirst, drowns.

“Like it matters!” Kara says, no, shouts, from somewhere far above and below her. Lena would flinch, if only she still had a body. The voice rings out through the void. “Like any of it matters now.”

Lena is privately inclined to agree. She tries to breathe, but the full weight of the universe, of every universe, presses in. As everything, even the blackness, dulls, there emerges a crushing, cracking suffocation, and Lena wonders why she can’t even die in peace. A high-pitched scream, maybe hers, maybe Kara’s, maybe her mother’s, maybe the world’s, stretching out before her like a pathway. Though there’s no doubt where it ends, Lena almost wants to follow it, if only to escape this sensation of being crumbled, submerged, denied life as its very essence is wrung from her being.

And then a hundred trillion bolts of lightning shoot through her at once, and Lena is gone.

-

When she wakes, she wakes secure in the knowledge that she must be alive. Sure that the pain that had burst through her, blighted every nerve with an agony so intense she feels its phantom grip even now, could only lead back to life. Sure that no departure could hurt that much.

When she wakes, it is through cracked, dry eyes to the sight of pipes and ceiling vents, the bland, industrial grey that can only denote underfunded government property.

When she wakes, Kara is standing at the foot of her bed, hands behind her back and looking every inch the righteous hero, and Lena’s unsteady heart sinks. She’s been on the receiving end of this authoritative pose more than enough for one lifetime. At least her hands aren’t on her hips.

But Kara’s eyes brighten as they meet Lena’s fluttering gaze. “Lena.” Quiet, reverential. “How are you feeling?”

Lena takes stock. Alive, to begin with. Every limb still intact. Aside from an unnerving constriction in her chest and the fact that her blood feels a little like it’s burning her cells as it courses through her veins, it could certainly be worse.

When she speaks her voice is hoarse, cracking. “What happened?”

The same darkness creeps into the edges of her vision as she listens to Kara list the extent of the damage. She presses her lips together, willing away the blackness, registering only snippets.

Stab wound. Kryptonite poisoning. Collapsed lung. Cardiac arrest. Resuscitation.

Leviathan, gone. Andrea, captured. Lex, escaped.

The words wash over her like a freezing tide, and Lena wonders if maybe the darkness had been easier after all.

It takes far longer than it should for her to realise that the room has fallen silent. Kara is watching her, concern etched into her features like tears carving through stone.

Lena swallows as best she can. “And you?”

A corner of Kara’s mouth quirks up. “I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

But she doesn’t look fine. She looks exhausted, her face drawn, blue eyes lacking their characteristic shine. Even her hero’s stance can’t mask the fatigue weighing heavy on her shoulders.

But Lena doesn’t have the strength to argue the point. She rolls her head to the side, joints popping and releasing, noticing for the first time the tangle of IV lines threading into her skin. She lifts her other hand to touch them, feels the warning tug of more needles even as Kara steps forward, arms raised as if to stop her.

Her hands reach toward Lena, or at least, the spaces where her hands should be. Huge white dressings swaddle Kara from the wrists down, so bulky they do not resemble hands at all. Lena’s breath catches in her lungs as she takes in the unwieldy bandages, third degree burns and possible nerve damage echoing through her mind and she understands now why Kara had hidden them behind her back.

The inhale she aims for seems to stick in her ribs and she can feel again the crushing, the cracking, the dizzying lack of oxygen as her head spins. Kara is by her side in an instant, radiating warmth and just breathe, Lena, it’s okay, a comforting weight settling against her hip. Lena thanks the thick blanket for blurring the press of rough bandages where there should be warm skin, softening it into something just nondescript enough to be calming.

When her pounding pulse has slowed, the heart monitor downgrading to a less frenetic beat, she sucks in a breath despite her lungs’ protestation, waits for her vision to clear. Kara is still there, and dread opens up in Lena’s chest.

“You— you touched it. The kryptonite. You pulled it out.”

Kara doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Just nods, her gaze locked on Lena’s own. Lena lies catatonic, paralysed with the knowledge, unable to move even as Alex enters the room. Dimly aware of low words exchanged between the two sisters and then Alex at her bedside, gentler than Lena’s been worthy of seeing her in years. Just rest, Lena, the press of a button on the IV monitor, and she sinks back into oblivion.

[tenthgrove]

Can I request the one where La Squadra thought the reader was pregnant (when she just actually visited her kid) situation for Bruno's gang?

Mother Mother- Bucci Edition

Team Buccerati x Reader (Fem), Platonic, SFW

Bruno Buccerati is feeling restless. He's not one to pry, but your behaviour lately is starting to concern him. Leaving the base for hours without explanation is no cause for worry in itself, after all, you're not obliged to inform him of your whereabouts 24/7 and you're hardly the only one on the team who does this, but together with the ceaseless obsession with cutting your finances, the uncharacteristic melancholy and the jolt of panic whenever your personal circumstances become the topic of conversation all add up to a bad picture.

The final straw for Buccerati came today, in which while passing you idly on the sofa he caught sight of the word 'parenthood' printed on the title of the leaflet you were reading. He didn't see the rest of what it said, but your guilty smile at being caught spoke well enough for itself.

Buccerati truly does feel bad about this, but with how defensive you become at even the smallest sign of confrontation, he sees no other choice. As he watches you depart your bedroom and head into the bathroom, he waits quietly for the rush of water from the shower, before sneaking into your unlocked bedroom unnoticed.

He will make clear, he thinks to himself as he pilfers through the loose paper on your desk for that leaflet, that he is not angry. If it's what your heart is set on, he isn't even that opposed to the idea of you raising the baby yourself. The squad is decently paid and their work isn't as dangerous or all-consuming as some, so they can manage. He even feels a little bit of excitement at the thought of helping you with your offspring. He's only doing this because it can't be healthy for you to conceal your pregnancy like this. Children have always been such precious things to him.

A pink leaflet flits off of the desk and Buccerati picks up his prize. He reads the title in full.

"Parenthood for the Parents of Hospitalised Children: What Doctors Advise"

Ahh. Now that changes things. Buccerati feels his heart sink at the sight of the stock image of a mother and father standing over the bedside of a sickly-looking girl. He guiltily returns the leaflet to its former place and tries to reorganise the paper as he found it, before exiting quickly.

Having learned his lesson well about making assumptions on too little evidence, Buccerati sits down with his phone book. There's a fellow on one of the intel teams who owes him a small favour, and it's time he called on it.

“Hello, it’s Buccerati, could you do something for me quickly? I need you to check the records of all the hospitals in Naples that hospitalise chronically ill children, and take a look through the names of the patients in the children's ward," he requests. "There's a specific surname I'm after, hang on, I'll find it for you." Buccerati racks his brains. If there's one thing he's certain your being honest about it's your real name. He pulls it from his memories and relays it to his friend. "No, no need to take any action once you find them. Just let me know the details, particularly of the illness. Very well, thank you," he concludes the phone call and hangs up. He leans back in the seat and sighs.

He barely gets half an hour to rest before the phone rings.

"Oh hello, that was quick. Did you find them? That's excellent. What did the records say?"

The agent relays his findings. Matching the surname he gave him is a little girl about 5 years old, currently residing in the hospital closest to Buccerati's base. The child is suffering from a frightful condition that, although rarely fatal with treatment, can leave sufferers in need of constant medical care for months on end, along with more minor support for years after.

The most concerning thing about the records is that the agent was able to find visitation logs attached to the data, and they all speak of a single, anonymous visitor with recorded visits matching perfectly with the dates and times of your disappearances.

Buccerati thanks the agent and promises to wire him a little money for his quick and extensive help. Hanging up, he broods deeply. He cannot simply allow your suffering to continue if there's anything, anything at all he can do to help.

He is broken from his trance by the sounds of panicked footsteps running in from the hall. He catches sight of Mista and Narancia sneaking in from the hallway, and is struck by the immediate impression that they are by all definitions, up to no good.

"What's the matter you two? You seem startled," he presses them patiently. He is met with two loud sounds of 'uhhhh'.

"Nothing Buccerati, we swear it!" Narancia promises.

"Yeah! In fact, we were just going to the shops and were arguing over what to get!" Mista backs him up. Buccerati rolls his eyes and smiles.

"Alright. Not too much sugar, Narancia? We don't want to find you being sick in the bathroom at two in the morning again, do we?"

"It's not me you have to worry about doing that now," Narancia mutters under his breath.

"Pardon?" Buccerati asks, confused.

"Nothing! We should go now!"

The boys immediately make their exit out the front and disappear down the street. Bruno tuts. Sometimes he thinks he'll never understand that lot. He smiles.

As he replays the encounter in his head, it occurs to him what that strange item poking out of Mista's pocket was. The leaflet from (y/n)'s room. Shit.

"Mista? Narancia? I think we should have a word please!" Buccerati shouts down the entry street. But it's two late, they've both disappeared out of earshot. Buccerati throws his hands up in despair, and returns to his room.

::::::::::::

Abbacchio knows what he sees. Mista and Narancia go running down the street and about 20 second later, Buccerati goes out shouting. As Abbacchio watches Buccerati return to the house in defeat, he makes a decision. He's had enough of those kids and their petty little antics. If Buccerati doesn't have it in him to set them straight, he will.

"You look pressed," Fugo remarks as Abbacchio pushes past him in the corridor.

"None of your business. Mista and Narancia are up to no good and now I've got to go and find them," Abbacchio grunts.

"Narancia?! But he promised me he'd work on his assignments tonight! Little bastard, I'll kill him!" Fugo fumes.

"Will you now? Better keep up then," Abbacchio says, throwing on his coat.

It doesn't take them long at all to find Mista and Narancia. Indeed, they're cowering in the very first alleyway left of the house.

"We can explain," Narancia promises.

"I bet you can," Abbacchio mutters half-heartedly.

"Take a look at this!" Narancia urges them. He pulls a pink leaflet from Mista's pocket and rereads it himself. "It says 'parenthood'. We found it in (y/n)'s room. Does that mean she's pregnant?"

"Why in god's name were you snooping around in (y/n)'s room?" Abbacchio interrogates them.

"Furthermore Narancia, you can't read," Fugo adds.

"Well, for a start, Buccerati did it first. We just went in after him to see what it was he was looking for. Second, Mista read it for me, and he swears it says 'parenthood'. Isn't that right Mista?"

"Sure is," Mista affirms. "Look."

He flicks the leaflet in front of them and, sure enough, they all read the same word. Abbacchio and Fugo curse simultaneously.

"What the hell is their game, thinking they can hide something like this from us?" Abbacchio fumes. "Does Bruno think he's protecting her or something? He's a fool."

"If I may, Abbacchio, it is most uncharacteristic of you to speak ill of Signor Buccerati," a voice from behind protests. Abbacchio turns with a jolt to see Giorno standing at the entrance of the alleyway along with a very bewildered looking Trish. They each have a couple of shopping bags in their hands.

"Are you spying on me?!" Abbacchio shrieks.

"Not at all. I simply thought that going after dark would be a much safer time for Trish to do her shopping, so I was taking her out," Giorno explains. "I overheard your voices and came to investigate, but I really haven't heard much."

"(Y/n)'s pregnant and Buccerati's hiding it from us," Mista fills him in.

"Wait, I'm lost. Did Buccerati get her pregnant? Because if so, what in the actual hell?" Trish comments.

"Fucking christ. Could you imagine?" Narancia remarks. The group soon devolves into a mess of interrupted shouting.

"All of you quiet!" Abbacchio yells. He holds up his hands in desperation. "We are going to get to the bottom of this and we're going to do it now! We are going right home, and we are getting (y/n) to explain herself, whether she likes it or not. Agreed?"

::::::::::::

You had an awful eery feeling getting out that shower would be a mistake. The last thing you expected tonight was being hounded by your dear teammates while you're half dressed and wet haired, particularly on such an outlandish concept as pregnancy.

"Slow down! What the hell are you accusing me of again?"

"You're having a baby and you aren't even telling us! Do you have any idea how much those cost?" Trish accuses. You don't even have an answer for that one, it's just so completely wrong there's no way to refute it.

"We aren't looking to judge, we just want to help," Giorno assures you, though his voice is drowned out by the rest of the rabble.

"I don't need help, I'm not having a baby!" you protest. Narancia opens his mouth.

"But the leaflet says-"

"What on god's earth are the lot of you doing?" Bruno calls from the hallway. "Why are you all hounding (y/n) all of a sudden."

"You think we don't know what you know, Buccerati?" Abbacchio confronts him. "You're complicit in this. You're helping to hide this- baby!"

Buccerati breathes deeply.

"Ah. I believe I know what this is about. Mista, I want you to take that leaflet you found and read the front page out to me. In full."

Mista complies.

"Parenthood... for the Parents of Hospitalised Children. Oh."

"You made the same mistake I did," Buccerati explains. "You saw the first word and immediately jumped to your own conclusions. But in regards to the full title I have carried out some follow up and have confirmed it is exactly what it sounds like. (Y/n) has a young daughter who is unfortunately quite sick at present, and she has understandably been taking time off to be with her."

"You know about her?" you exclaim in panic.

"Apologies (y/n), I was acting only in concern for your health. It was admittedly due to my poor caution that the others found out and, well, it went from there."

"Look," you protest, thoughts spiralling into panic. "I didn't mean for you to know. You said I could do what I wanted with my money so I did. There- there was no other way I could afford to treat her," you justify, tears starting to leak from your eyes. "Please don't kick me out. I swear this doesn't affect my work, all I need is a few hours a week to check on her!"

You collapse against the door in tears. The crowd goes into a shocked silence. Buccerati pushes to the front.

"Hey, hey, I'm not going to kick you out so don't worry," he promises. "I would never cut off a member of my squad like that, especially not when they have such a vulnerable dependent. We can talk about helping you with the money tomorrow, but now, let's get you calmed down okay?"

You nod through your tears. Buccerati guides you to your feet and leads you gently into the kitchen. The remaining group in the hall look at each other with pressed lips. Fugo takes the leaflet from Mista and reads through the front cover once more. He hits him.

[lillywillow]

Cold Heart of the Wild

Summary: For days Bucky has been having dreams about a white wolf and a mysterious woman. What happens when his dreams become reality?

 Word Count: 2234

 Square Filled: White Wolf

 Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader

 Warnings: Mentions of hunting and shooting, injuries, minor mentions of death

Written for @star-spangled-bingo

 Snow covered the ground in every direction Bucky looked. It crunched under his feet as he moved; where he was going, he didn’t know. Suddenly, a howl filled the air, its mournful sound sending chills down his spine. There was a flash of movement in the bare trees. Bucky followed it, catching a glimpse of a white wolf.

 The wolf stopped for him as if expecting something. Did it want him to follow? Bucky looked at it for a moment before it ran off.

 “Wait!”

 Bucky chased after the wolf, running in between frozen vegetation, trying desperately to keep up with it. He lost sight of the wolf. Feeling lost in this icy landscape, he frantically searched for any more signs of life. That’s when he saw her.

 A woman dressed in animal hide clothing. A hunter perhaps?

 “Hey!” Bucky shouted, reaching out to her.

 The woman began turning...

...

Bucky woke in a cold sweat. He had almost forgotten all about the mission he was going on that morning. As he prepared for it, he reflected on his dream. That was the sixth night in a row he’d been having dreams like that. Could that possibly mean something? There was no time to dwell too much further on the subject. Bucky had to board the jet and get ready to go.

...

 Bucky’s plane was shot down somewhere over the Alaskan wilderness. He survived the initial crash relatively unharmed but there were Hydra agents waiting on the ground. He fought and took them out but his side was badly injured. As he collapsed in the snow, he thought for sure this was where he was going to die.

 Bucky drifted in and out of consciousness but caught flashes of images.

 The sound of gunfire.

 A white wolf hovering over him.

 Being dragged on some kind of sled.

 A woman with a rifle strapped to her back.

 Bucky’s eyes opened in a jolt. The images had been so familiar to him; he expected to see the sterile environment of a Hydra lab. To his surprise, he found himself in a quaint wood cabin. There were animal hides on the bed keeping him warm.  A fireplace along a wall had a cauldron of something delicious smelling food hanging in its stony walls. A kitchen nook was off to the side of the cabin. The place was rather cosy. Bucky sat up causing pain to shoot through him. He carefully lifted his shirt to see someone had tended to his wound although now blood was seeping through the bandaging. Holding onto his side, Bucky forced himself to his feet and looked out the small window.

 Outside, he could see a woman standing in front of two crudely made graves. She was dressed exactly the same as the one that had been haunting his dreams. A sound behind him caught his attention. Slowly turning around, he saw a white wolf. He went to comment but the pain in his side became too much and he fell to his knees. The wolf went out what appeared some kind of doggy door carved through the main one. A few minutes later, the woman came in, quickly shutting the door behind her. She helped Bucky off the floor and back onto the bed. He whimpered and held up his hand which was now bloodied. She made a disapproving sound with a click on her tongue.

 “You’ve opened that wound again,” she stated. She carefully lifted his shirt once more, helping him to sit up as she cleaned and redressed the injury.

 Once she had finished and washed her hands, she went to get two bowls, filling them with whatever was in the cauldron. She came back, handing him one with a spoon.

 “Thanks,” he muttered. She nodded and sat down to eat as well. A silence fell over the pair of them.

 As Bucky ate, so many questions filled his mind. Who was this woman? Why did she save him? Why had he been dreaming about her? What did any of this have to do with the wolf? He was still very cautious.

 “Who are you? Where am I? How did I get here? The last thing I remember is... is... we need to get out of here!” Bucky stood up but immediately fell back down in pain.

 The woman sighed and made sure his wound hadn’t once again reopened.

 “You’re safe here. Those Hydra agents won’t be around to bother us. I made sure of it...”

 Bucky froze, fear and dread suddenly sunk in.

 “H-how do you...” The woman sighed softly.

 “I was an agent of S.H.E.I.L.D. much like you. I was sent on a mission and my plane went down...”

 It dawned on Bucky why she was so familiar and it had nothing to do with his dreams.

 “You’re Y/N L/N! You were one of the best! I read your file. You went missing ten years ago. Presumed dead...”

 “And I would have been if it hadn’t been for Agnes...”

 “Who’s Agnes?”

 Y/N walked over to the window, her eyes ghosting over with memories.

 “Agnes was... one of the strongest women I have ever known. She lived here with her husband until he died. Lived here on her own for quite some time.”

 “What happened to her?”

 “Two years ago, there was a big grizzly bear... it crept up on Agnes and attacked... I did the best I could to help her and she hung in there for as long as she could... I’ve been here on my own ever since.”

 The wolf let out a huff.

 “Except for James of course,” she smiled. The wolf gave an approving noise.

 “James?” Bucky was more than a little surprised.

 “Agnes told she found him abandoned as a pup. She raised him to be I guess a sort of pet. I promised her I wouldn’t let anything happen to him until his time comes.”

 “What do you mean?”

 Y/N once again sighed and tossed James a piece of meat.

 “James is getting pretty old in wolf years. Now, if he should die of natural causes I can bury him with some honour but I’ll be damned if I let some hunter take him away from me.”

 Bucky went quiet for a few moments.

 “How come... you never went back? You could have left at any time...”

 Y/N scoffed softly.

 “When I went down in that plane, it was winter, just as it is now. Every day I wondered if I was ever getting out of here and with each passing month, that hope left. Maybe they sent a search party and couldn’t find me, maybe they couldn’t be bothered, maybe the stories got to them and scared them away...”

 “Stories?” Bucky asked.

 “You see, Alaska has a sort of... Bermuda Triangle area. Planes, ships and people go missing, strange lights in the sky, strange creatures spotted... I never believed the stories but... Perhaps I’ve been without human interaction for too long,” she shrugged. “Anyway, you should get some rest. I’m going to go and hunt something for dinner. If you need anything before I go, tell me now.”

 Bucky shook his head and Y/N made him comfortable before she left with James following behind her. He had been given so much information in such a short amount of time yet he still had questions but for now he would just take some time to allow his body to heal itself.

...

 When night fell, Y/N had boarded up any areas that cold might creep in. She made another stew out of the game she hunted in the afternoon and made herself comfortable next to Bucky.

 “Wh-what are you doing?” His face flushed at their close proximity.

 “It’s below freezing outside. If you want to survive, you’ll need my body heat.”

 Bucky nodded and slowly allowed himself to relax before realising something.

 “Wait! James isn’t here! Shouldn’t he be inside with us?”

 Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness toward the animal.

 “James will be fine. Wolves have adapted to centuries of this kind of weather. He has his own little spot to sleep in nearby and he can do whatever he wants to do.”

 Bucky was a little relieved to hear that.

 “Tell me more about your life here,” he prompted.

 “What’s there to know? It’s life in the Alaskan wilderness. I hunt, I stock up on supplies, and I sleep at night...”

 “Well then tell me about Agnes. I’m sure you must some stories about her...”

 Y/N regarded him carefully for a moment.

 “Alright... but only if you tell me about you in return. You read my file back at... wherever you came from, so you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t even know your name.”

 “James Buchannan Barnes but everyone calls me Bucky.”

 Y/N let out a soft laugh, unable to believe the coincidence.

 “James and James... I guess I will have to call you Bucky to avoid confusion,” she smiled.

 The pair of them spent the night swapping stories and getting to know each other better until they eventually fell asleep. That night for the first time in a long time, Bucky had a dreamless sleep.

...

 Time went by and eventually a month had passed. Bucky and Y/N had formed a strong bond with each other in what was beginning to feel like love. Y/N wondered if this is how Agnes had felt with her husband.

 Then one day, it happened. Y/N was in her storage shed when she heard James snarling and barking. She ran out to see a helicopter appear a moment later, landing in a small clearing nearby. Bucky hobbled out of the house at the commotion. Although his injury was healing nicely, he still had some more to do.

 A few men exited the chopper and headed over to the two of you. You called James to your side to keep him from attacking the strangers but he was still on edge.

 “Buck... good to see you,” one of the men wearing a uniform went to Bucky and hugged him. Bucky hugged back.

 “Good to see you too, Steve. How’d you find me?”

 “We tracked where your jet went down. I’ve been searching for as long as I could ever since. Finally caught a break today when we saw the smoke from the chimney,” Steve replied, nodding over to the house. “Who’s this?”

 “Steve, this is Y/N. She saved my life...”

 Steve looked at her for a moment.

 “The same Y/N who went missing a decade ago?”

 “The very same...”

 “Buck, can I talk to you for a minute?”

 The pair of them went out of Y/N’s earshot but whatever they were saying, it was argumentative. After a few moments the pair walked back to her.

 “Y/N, how would you like to come back with us?” Steve reluctantly offered.

 “I... I can’t...”

 Bucky looked at her sadly.

 “I have James to think of.”

 “James is... a wolf?” Steve asked.

 “He’s not just a wolf. James is too used to humans. He’s vulnerable and a prize for hunters around here. I can’t just leave him.”

 “I see...”

 “Steve, can we have a moment alone?” Steve nodded and left the two them to have a little privacy.

 “You could stay...” Y/N said softly.

 “I wish I could but I can’t. That punk needs me... like James needs you.” His eyes filled with tears as did hers.

 “I... I really hope I’ll see you again.”

 “I do too, doll.”

 Bucky wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. Y/N kissed back, holding him as close as she could. Eventually air was needed and they pulled away. Bucky gave her a communicator to keep in touch, telling her to call him if anything happened. Only after the helicopter disappeared out of sight did Y/N allow herself to cry.

...

 Six months later, Bucky finally heard back from her.

 “Hello? Bucky?”

 “Y/N! Is it really you?”

 “Y-yeah...”

 “Is everything okay? You sound upset...”

 “Um... James... passed away...”

 “Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry...”

 “I... I had been expecting it for a while... he hasn’t been well for days. I found him this morning. Can you... can you come and take me away? I don’t... I don’t want to die alone out here...”

“Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

...

 It took a lot of convincing but Bucky was allowed to go and collect Y/N. He had marked the coordinates of her cabin on a map and went there as fast as he could.

 The moment she saw him, Y/N threw herself into Bucky’s arms and sobbed. Bucky held her close and rubbed her back.

 “It’s okay, doll. I’m here now. I’ve got you. You’ve done your duty to Agnes and laid James to rest...”

 The pair stood there for a while until Y/N had calmed down enough before heading to the transport. As they flew over the Alaska wilderness, Y/N took one last look at the place for ten years she called home. She held Bucky’s hand, ready to start a new chapter of her life.

[delldarling]

the city is hoarding hearts | arroven

male dragon x gender/body neutral reader 9015 words lemon | mention of drinking alcohol, face riding, size difference, fairly submissive monster, penetrative sex, poetry, touch starved note: behold! my modern epic fantasy universe! this world first appeared back in August for my Patreon Story of the Month, and though I haven’t revisited Arroven again just yet, I did return to this universe for December’s Story of the Month as well. 👀

Magic, despite people's claim to the contrary, is beyond rare these days. No one really claims that it isn’t real, that it didn’t once run rampant with it’s existence. After all, it’s impossible to deny when people have things like the architecture of the North to reference. The towers built into their seaside cliffs, spiraling up like the serpents of old reaching for the sun? Without magic, without gravity spells, and an everlasting charm on those spells, thick enough to double as a coat of paint, the towers would have fallen into the sea by now, dashed against the dark stones jutting out from the deep green waters. Many people, though especially the elves, think that the towers will endure long after the cliffs have crumbled into the water. Floating relics, you’ve heard more than a few people murmur, wonder in their voices, wouldn’t that be something?

Even more common now, there are people the world over that claim they have a spark of magic left still, that they can feel the rhythms of the magical tide flooding back over the world.

She Wakes is written on street corners and thick posters, spray painted on the underside of the colossal Echo Bridge. No matter how often they have workers doing their best to clean the graffiti up, the giant letters are back in place a few days later.

Despite how much you’d like to believe them, as everyone dreams of the rumors, of magic returning, you’ve never put too much stock into the whispered words. Why would you? No matter how often you’ve spent watching wispy clouds streak by your window, no matter how often you’ve taken a moment to reflect on the thought, to nurse a seed of hope… Nothing has ever come of it.

It’s why you keep trying to ignore that heavy ache in the arch of your feet, or the way you keep noticing advertisements for Arroven.

History books and the elderly all say that this is how it starts when magic finally blooms in someone’s blood. There’s an itch. An ache. A constant irritant that starts in your extremities and wriggles into your veins, and then coincidences will start to pile up. Small things, like noticing whenever the clock strikes 11:11 on whatever clock you pass. Or maybe it’s having the luck to switch the radio station to your favorite song without fail, or—

“Stop it,” you mutter to yourself when you spot it. You breath puffs out into the chilly air, adding to the fog lingering in the streets. You kneel, brushing aside some of the fallen damask leaves, their velvety backs clinging to your touch even as you do your best to shake them off. Just barely hidden under their litter is a postcard. Without even glancing at it, you know what you’ll find on the back, but you’re drawn to pick it up anyway, turning it over. It depicts a sprawling city with green undertones, the word Arroven written in a sloping, beautiful script along the bottom of the image. The edges are creased, almost lovingly, and there’s a small puncture hole at the top left corner, as if someone had it pinned to a corkboard for no short amount of time. 

Until this moment, you haven’t picked up any of the advertisements for Arroven. The stories all say that you can ignore it, that the magic will go away and fade from you like an ebbing tide if you only will it hard enough, but… You don’t know that you really want it to leave. Those seeds have hope might not have fully sprouted, but their roots have run deep, snaking through your veins. You swallow past the dryness in your throat and turn the postcard over, wonder if you’re going to get an address, or if there are words of encouragement intended for the last owner.

The postcard is faintly yellowed at the edges, but it’s otherwise blank.

You wilt, disappointed, but you don’t throw it back down onto the stones. If you check the railway listings, you’re more than certain that you’ll find a one way trip to Arroven suddenly dirt cheap. The pathway that will lead you there is probably paved with strangely good fortune, more invisible hooks ready to find a secure hold in your heart. You might as well find out if there’s anything to these claims of magic. You have far too much hope shored up in your bones and pumping through your chest not to at least try. 

-

A month later, and you’re starting to believe that whatever magic that led you this far has all but fled. Of course, you’re more than content with where it’s left you, a word rattling around in the back of your brain and clamoring to spill from your lips: home. Arroven feels like home.

It’s not just the city though. It’s your place. It’s the stones that pave the streets and the people that fill them. It’s the smell of bakeries and the faint hint of exhaust. It’s the clean smell of paper and ink from the stationary shop you’d stumbled into on your first night in Arroven, and the proprietor’s barely-there smile. You’d made fast friends with her almost instantly, like it was fate.

Mora, despite her solemn stature, and the vast amount of spiraling tattoos disappearing under the neck of her cleanly pressed shirts, is beyond kind. She possesses a startling, sparkling wit that leaves a smile lingering on your lips whenever you think of her snappy little comments. She’d given you a job in her shop a few days after you’d first arrived, perking up as soon as you’d come back into her shop. She needed a cashier, so she could have more time to develop her own inks, and then a few days after that you literally stumbled onto a showing of a furnished apartment. It had fit all of your needs, and your shoes had sunk into the plush carpet of the bedroom, like a quiet voice in the place asking you to stay.

The ache in your feet had eased, that strange little irritant in the back of your mind fading with every passing day. You haven’t put too much thought into magic since then, as there hasn’t been a reason when you have a new job to keep you busy, and a city to explore on your days off. You love it here, the sea green patina on the copper statues, the swirling architecture that extends to every building in the city, no matter how large or small. Besides, you know if you go looking into magic again, at the message boards or if you go hunting down books, it’s likely that they’ll all say much the same thing: She Wakes, and her gift will blossom in you, but not Forever. She moves us like pawns, adjusting us Just So, no matter how small the slot She needs filled. 

You’ve read it all before, have heard debates shouted in the streets or argued about in the back corner of classrooms. Magic moves through people as it wills, and no amount of pleading will keep it in you unless you’re a mage, and even then, that takes years of study. If the magic that led you here only existed long enough for you to make your home? Then you’ll have to be satisfied with that.

And you are, until that ache in your feet starts up again.

Late one evening, as you’re locking the back door of Rumoura’s, it floods through you fast enough to steal your breath. There’s no voice, no heavy hand on your shoulder, just a fierce pain that wells, threatening to bring tears to your eyes, until you turn to the right. You blink, surprise at the sudden and complete lack of pain, and take a ragged breath as you pocket the key to the door. When you feel steady enough, when your lungs no longer ache, you turn to the right and start walking.It takes you about ten minutes to realize you’re headed towards the main park, the one with ancient ruins of a half finished serpent tower peppered throughout its boundaries. You’ve walked through once, one golden afternoon with Mora, and you’ve been meaning to come back sometime on your lunch break. The past few days have been busy though, with a flood of students coming back to Arroven, stocking up on both casual and serious supplies from Mora’s shop.

Besides, there’s always been time to explore at your leisure now that you’re living here. 

Two towering trees make a grand arch over the park entrance, and the slow swirl of damask leaves spiraling down from the branches make you laugh.

“Coincidence,” you murmur, a small smile curling your lips, and you walk into the park. The paths are well lit, even this late in the evening. This part of the city doesn’t boast about it’s lack of crime, but most people feel it. There always seems to be groups of people roaming: Elven tourists, hooking arms and laughing over cups of tea and coffee, Orcish artists and musicians, setting up on benches or street corners, busking for the simple sake of sharing their art with others. You wander through the park, expecting to simply take in the sights among the meandering attendees, but.. You haven’t seen anyone for the past few minutes. Your footsteps start to slow, wondering if you missed a sign somewhere and you have the nagging feeling that you just need to find someone.

Cautiously, you keep moving, the sudden bout of nervousness easing when you see someone up ahead. They’re sitting at the foot of one of the rather large blocks of toppled variscite, a dark hoodie hiding their face. Their shoulders are broad, and their clothes are a little more ragged than you see on people around here, but it gives off more of a well lived look than a dangerous one. They’re tapping the toes of their boots together, the tread of them worn smooth, and a low, masculine hum reaches your ears the closer you get. He stops as soon as you’re within speaking range though, crossing his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees. There’s a street lamp not too far behind him, and with the hood and the angle of the light, it casts most of his face in shadow. All you can spy is a pair of long, thorn-like ear gauges, curling out from the depths of his hood. They’re bigger around than a thimble and sharp looking from this far away. 

“Nice evening, hm?” You say in greeting, hoping that if he doesn’t want to speak, he’ll just bob his head and let you move along. You haven’t run into any trouble in Arroven yet, but even with that strange ache, you don’t know that you can see your good luck lasting forever.

“A lovely one,” he mumbles and he leans back, hands grabbing at his knees and squeezing like he’s the nervous one.

That thought makes you stop, your eyes focusing a bit more intensely on what you can see of his skin. At first glance, his knuckles are bruised and paint splattered, nails split and a little too long, skin rough in texture. You blink, realizing that his knuckles aren’t bruised, his skin just mirrors the strange patterns of the variscite he’s sitting on, ink black and sea green, and the rough texture to his skin has pointy, scalloped edges.

The noise he makes isn’t a sigh, not quite, but he turns his face away, as if he expects you to ignore him, or run, and his hood edges back, just a sliver. The arch of his nose is straight as an arrow, and his nostrils are thin things, slashing upwards. His face has so many angles that it’s hard to tear your gaze away. You wish you could see his eyes, but he has them closed, like he’s still bracing himself for a blow.

“Are you.. Are you alright?” You ask, because it seems like the thing to say, with how tense he is, with how he’s waiting.

His eyes flash open, reflective in the depths of his hood. His mouth curls into a frown when he turns to look at you again. His eyes are still the eerie glam of a reflected light. “You’re not frightened?”

“Are you?” You ask, ignoring the thundering of your own heart. You’ve seen Trolls before, and even a few half-elves or half-orcs of varying descent, with skin that just barely reminds you of his, but.. You’re willing to bet he isn’t any of those. 

“A bit?” He says, unsure, and the edge of a violet tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip. “It’s been a few centuries since any of you have made yourself so at home here that you stumbled across me.” He hunches his shoulders, looking away from you for the breadth of a second, before he can’t help himself. His eyes flick back to you, rove over you from head to toe, almost greedily. “You felt a call then, an itch?”

“An ache,” you correct, staring at him with wide eyes. Centuries? The long lived races don’t often mention the time they have over others. It’s rude at the best of times, and most of them are terrible sticklers for manners. 

“At home here, you said?” You ask, knowing that something about him seems terribly familiar. 

Your question makes him pause, brow lifting before he finally pushes himself to his feet. He unfolds, all long, heavy limbs, but doesn’t move from his spot on the variscite. “M-.. Arroven. You do think of the city as home?” He breathes in, hesitantly lifting his chin. “Not to be rude,” he says, a little awkwardly, “but you smell like Arroven.”

All at once, the old poem flickers back into your mind, the one about hearts and desires and winter. The oldest folktales of the first cities, those built around the serpent towers, all seemed to carry the poem with them. It was both a warning and a blessing to those that wished to stay. You’d have to hunt down the entirety of it, but the ending couplet?  

The city promises, you’ll be most adored So can you, will you, join the hoard?

You bite down fiercely on the desire to blurt out dragon, but he must sense it, might even see the aborted twist of your lips. 

“..you’ve figured it out, then?” He asks, and when his shoulders droop, you spy the barest edge of a wing, tucked in close to his back. “If being in my immediate vicinity is a problem, I quite understand, but please stay in the city. You-” He blows out a breath, large hands fussing about with his hoodie pocket. Everything about him reads awkward, almost shy. “You’re safe here, I promise.” He breathes in again, like he can’t resist, eyes falling closed when his violet tongue appears, there and gone before you can blink. “You belong,” he murmurs and tangles his fingers in the material of his hoodie, like he would reach out if he didn’t stop himself.

Inexplicably, you wonder if Mora knows about the city patron. If you should waltz into the shop tomorrow and announce: I’ve officially been welcomed to the hoard.  ...Sort of. Before you lose your nerve, before you can bite your tongue, you ask. “An official welcome involves more drinks though, doesn’t it?”

-Arroven, the dragon, the founder of the city, is sitting across the table from you, slouching in a barstool that has a difficult time encompassing his enormous body. Despite his height, and the way his hood shadows his face in a frankly ominous way, no one is paying him any attention. One of the bartender’s had slid a drink list your way as soon as you’d claimed the seats, but she hadn’t even glanced at Arroven. In fact, you think her eyes might have skipped right over his seat. It’s a little disconcerting, seeing as he’d claimed that Wink was one of the best bars around, but if they ignore him, if they can’t see him?

“What’ll it be?” A different bartender asks, a tall elf, with his hair plaited back in a complicated braid. He has pleasant features, though he looks a little flustered, a lock or two of dark hair escaping his braid. You think he might be on the newer end when he fumbles a bit with the card you slide his way, olive skin flushing when his fingers nearly touch yours.  

“Uh, the special,” you finally decide, expecting him to turn to Arroven so he can order as well. Your jaw drops when he whirls, not even bothering. “Ar- hey, wait!” 

The elf turns back, smiling vaguely, looking even more tense now that he can’t leave straight off, but he doesn’t seem to see Arroven when you gesture towards him. His gaze zips right through the neckline of Arroven's hoodie, straight on through to the next customer. 

Perturbed, you lean in close to Arroven, heart skipping a beat due to his proximity. He smells faintly of musty books, and stone, cooling in the early evening after baking in the sunshine of a warm day. "Didn’t you want something?” You force yourself to ask, unwilling to let the elf leave without at least checking with him first. He doesn’t have to get anything, but you’d hoped he would, if only so you can spend a while longer in his company. Maybe the flirtatious tone you’d struck had made him uncomfortable?

For a moment Arroven hunches further into his sweatshirt, and you think your fears might hold weight. You are a little close, and you still don’t know each other terribly well yet. You straighten, hoping you don’t look as embarrassed as you feel and Arroven heaves out a sigh. He finally tugs back his hood, though the elf behind the bar doesn’t even blink. “Just a.. a Beetle Wing," he mutters, large, sharp teeth catching the light. The elf nods, though his gaze is still on you when Arroven speaks, and turns away to go make the drinks. 

Without the darkness of night, without his hood shadowing his face, you see that his eyes aren’t permanently reflective. In the dim lights of the bar, they’re a lovely shade of blue-green that matches well with his skin. What you thought were ear gauges were actually his horns, thick and curving, and trailing after the clean arch of his jaw. His ears are heavy with plugs though, and they clink against his horns when he turns, noticing that you’re staring. The scent of hot stone grows stronger when you smile at him, and then he huffs, looking away and running a hand through his already tousled, short dark hair. You catch sight of scales on his scalp and then blink. It’s not hair on his head, it’s feathers. His eyebrows are much the same, in miniature. Fine, thin feathers, as ink dark as the scalloped edges of his scales. 

“So,” you tease, hoping your questions won’t come off as prying. “Can the rest of the people in here see you at all? You said that it’d been a while since anyone had felt at home enough here to stumble across you, but.. I don’t know exactly if that means Magicis is at work, or something else.”

Arroven breathes in, glancing up at the filigreed round sign hanging over the bar. There’s a single neon eye in the middle, opening and closing on loop under the word WINK. Even with the noise of people talking, and the music coming steadily from the small corner of a dance floor, you can still hear the faint buzz and click of the neon switching over. “Not many,” he finally confesses. “If the proprietor were here, she would see me, but she’s been here for a.. For a while.” She’s one of the long lived races then. Arroven turns, taking a quick look over the other patrons, tense, as if he expects one of them to approach. “The couple near the dance floor there,” he finally says, pointing out two women leaning into each other, stealing sips of each other’s drinks. “The orcish fellow on his phone. They can see me, though I doubt they’ll realize who I am. Just living here doesn’t make someone part of the hoard, though it’s always a step in the right direction.” For a second, he looks like he might let the subject drop, but then he cringes, glancing at your eyes before he looks away. “I don’t- I don’t steal from the people living here, whether they’re part of my hoard or not, even if they don’t realize I’m around. Even if they can’t see me.”

That’s reassuring, though you hadn’t planned on diving into that topic.

“What then,” you ask, leaning your chin in the palm of your hand, and your elbow on the bar, “makes someone part of your hoard?” 

Arroven’s rough looking scales don’t shine, but the neon light over the both of you shifts again from blue, to pink, and back. It was already hard for you to take your eyes off of him, knowing who he is, attracted to the nervous quirk of his lips, but now? The magic that you’ve only ever felt the after effects of, the strange aches and coincidences, it feels like more in this moment. More than a soft nudge in the correct direction. Arroven is sitting at your side, winking neon sign a spotlight over both your heads.

Hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, Arroven lifts his hand, reaching out, and taps once, softly, against your sternum. “It sounds esoteric, but the only explanation I have is that all of you feels like you should be here. From the way you smell, to the echoes of your voice or your footsteps along the pavement...” Arroven swallows, and then inhales, letting his hand fall away from your chest as his eyes close. He doesn’t pull his hand back completely though, just lets his hand hover over your thigh. “It’s always the desires of the heart that bring my hoard home,” he murmurs and starts to sway towards you.

There’s a soft clink on the bar, your drinks being set carefully in front of you and Arroven. When you look, the bartender still hasn’t noticed the city patron, the dragon, but the drink is still clearly set aside for him. Your card is placed very quickly next to your glass, the elf flashing you a much more jovial smile than earlier. 

“Your drink has been taken care of,” he explains, but doesn’t stay behind to point out who might have bought them. When you look, Arroven is sitting straight up in his seat, and his guilty expression is answer enough.

“I was supposed to be welcoming you to the city,” he murmurs, turning in his stool so he can take hold of his glass. The liquid inside is iridescent, shifting from what looks like violet, to a strange umber. You’re willing to bet that it’s more blue and green, but the neon light isn’t doing it too many favors. Arroven lifts his cup, patiently waiting for you to do the same and then quietly toasts your arrival. The clink of the glasses rings in your ears with the clarity of a bell, echoes lasting far longer than the noise itself.

“Goodness,” you say, coughing when you finish your swallow. Your drink is a little stronger than you thought it would be, heat already spiralling down into your chest and filling your belly. “So, uh, the city blessings seem to be true, I take it?” You don’t look at him as you speak, afraid he’ll cringe away from the mention of them.

“Blessings?” Arroven asks, and then you have to search up the poem. He sounds like he doesn't know, but they're supposed to be as old as the cities. Or near as.

“Sometimes they vary, from city to city. But most of the time they have almost the same structure. The same meaning,” you explain, pulling up the poem on your phone. “Hoarding hearts, keeping people safe in winter. The, uh-” You turn it his way, but he doesn’t take the phone from you, just reads the words out of the palm of your hand, brows raised by the time he gets to the end.

“‘Sinking talons into your thighs?’” Arroven’s slit pupils grow wide, nearly drowning his iris in darkness. He straightens, taking another hasty gulp of his drink. He laughs when he’s finished, nerves finally beginning to ease. “That’s how they’re translating it these days?” He asks, but you notice his eyes lingering on your hands, drifting down to your knees and the way you’re sitting. 

You pass a good portion of the evening, teetering back and forth with conversation about the city now, and how it was when Arroven had first settled. For all that he’s wearing modern clothes and walking on two feet, you can see him in a larger, more draconic figure, delving into the variscite mines and overseeing the people that had decided to settle under his watch.  

He’s just as enthralled with your stories though, hanging onto your every word, even though he’s still clearly a little anxious. He abandons his hunched and wary demeanor as soon as you start talking about the magic though. All the little aches and nudges and postcards that had led a clear path to his city. To him.

You insist on buying the next round when he makes to wave down the bartender, who is still completely oblivious to his presence, but Arroven stops you with a hand on your wrist. 

"Another time," he says, just loud enough for you to hear. "A welcome isn't a single round, is it?" He asks, a tentative smile revealing a small glimpse of those sharp teeth.

You could argue. You have the feeling that he would let it go if you pushed, but the smile sways you. It's the first time he's spoken without lowering his eyes mid sentence. You accept the drink, and try not to stare when his smile grows, shy and small and all the more endearing for it.

You both pretend not to notice each other grinning after that.

It’s just past 1 AM by the time the both of you leave the bar, only slightly unsteady after a few drinks and a few plates of bar food. Warmth floods you when Arroven’s hand finds your elbow, just barely keeping you from stumbling off the edge of the sidewalk and into the street. All it takes is a single stroke of his thumb over your arm for you to throw aside any worries you might have about flirting. 

He's reciprocated, in quiet ways, for the last hour or so. He’s leaned into you whenever you lowered your voice, had let his eyes linger on your hands and thighs after you brought up the poem.. The worst thing he can do is say no.

“Come to my place?” You blurt and Arroven stutters, hand spasming in his grip on your arm. For a heart wrenching moment, you think he might turn you down, but he finally bobs his head, gauges clicking against his horns with the motion. “...You said you’d been out of the loop with the people living here,” you start, mouth dry, wondering if he knows what you’re trying to ask, but still a little too sober to spell it out. “I’m asking, I’m not just asking you to come visit. I-” 

Arroven stops your worried speech with a slightly awkward smile. “I know what you’re getting at,” he finally says with a gentle huff of a laugh, hand sliding down your arm until he can twine his fingers about yours. His breath hitches, and for a moment you think he might stop, might pull away. “I- I would love to,” he says quietly, and squeezes until his fingernails gently prick the back of your hand.

Wordless with triumph, you flash another smile his way, heart pounding as you keep hold of his hand, ventral scales dry, but slick against your palm.

“The walk back to my place is a bit of a long one from here,” you confess, glancing at the handful of cabs loitering along the street. “Seeing as you got the drinks, I can—” You nearly trip over your own feet when Arroven tugs you back, keeping you from approaching any of the cabs. 

“I don’t.. Fit very well,” he says, apologetically. “If you would rather take one, I can, but if you aren’t opposed..” Arroven’s wings, still tucked in flat along his back, quirk and stretch, spreading wide enough that he nearly clips another leaving bar patron in the face. They don’t move, don’t see him, but they blink, as if a gust of wind just hit them, and shield their eyes until they’re well past you and Arroven.

His statement leaves you staring, jaw beginning to grow slack. “Are you saying you can fly us back to my place?” Your eyes trace his wings again, the fragile veins spider webbing across the membranes. It’s not that you thought they were ornamental, but it’s one thing to see them, and another to know you’ll get to witness their use first hand. 

Arroven’s shoulders start to hunch, but his eyes flick down to your hand, fingers still curled around his. He smiles instead. “Yes?” 

You glance at the cabs, and then back to Arroven’s tall figure and broad shoulders. As much as you’d like being pressed up against him, trapped in the backseat of an uncomfortable cab isn’t quite what you’d pictured, and he’s already nervous enough. That settles things. You nod, just the once and lift your chin to meet his eyes. “Flying it is then! We can’t have you getting stuck in one of those, can we?”

While Arroven walks you through how he’s going to pick you up, how he’s going to hold onto you, some of the people on the sidewalk start to watch you. You’re nodding readily at what they assume to be empty air. You spare a second to wonder if they’ll see you vanish, or if they’ll be able to see the equivalent of a magical wind carrying you away. That would cause quite a stir, wouldn't it? You forget to ask Arroven about it though when he holds out his arm, waiting patiently for you to step closer, fingers gentle in their continued grip on your hand. 

He’s still giving you the chance to turn away. 

You take a breath, thinking back to the nerves you’d felt, packing up a bag and deciding to visit somewhere based on coincidences and the hearsay of magic. You think of Mora, and the apartment that feels more like home to you than nearly anything else ever has. The way everything fits here, every piece of the city you've set foot in branded on your brain, clearer than any map. You step close, eagerly letting Arroven curl his arm around your back and then lift you up in a bridal carry. His forearms and biceps tense, bracing you as he prepares, and then the snap of his wings flaring open makes your heart jump before he leaps. His wings catch a sudden breeze swooping into the street, allowing it to lift the both of you well clear of the ground before he starts to flap. The slight dip in elevation as he finds his rhythm makes you clutch a little tighter, but Arroven doesn’t complain. In fact, when you glance at him, he seems to be holding back a smug little smile.  

It’s cold when he finally crests over the top of the nearest buildings. Between the chill, and the fast growing height between you and the ground, you have no issues absolutely clinging to Arroven’s neck. You don't feel like you're going to fall, but it's still safer than sitting meekly in his arms, isn't it? You try to twist your head about to see everything below you, but another rush of cold wind makes you squint. It takes a moment before you realize Arroven isn't moving though, he's simply keeping the both of you suspended in midair.

“Your address?” Arroven asks as soon as you start to frown, his voice rumbling against your ear.

“Ah.” You give it to him, laughing when you meet his still-shy gaze. “I suppose that’s a little important.”

While the walk would have left you both a little tired, the flight is a fairly short one. You have just enough time to relish all the places you’re pressed in close, to enjoy what little warmth you’ve managed to keep with the wind seeping through your clothes, when Arroven lands in front of your quiet building. There are no witnesses but the dim streetlights, the sound of his flapping wings muffled by the mist beginning to roll through the city. Arroven lowers you almost reluctantly, fingers slow to uncurl so you can step down onto the pavement. He takes a step back as soon as you do, like he needs the space between you to think.

“Still up for coming inside?” You ask, giving him the same chance he’d given you earlier. You jerk a thumb at the locked door, searching for your keys with your other hand. 

Arroven’s head jerks forward almost too fast, the dark feathers on his skull prickling upwards. His wings snap closed, tight against his back again as soon as you unlock your door. It’s only mildly nerve wracking, having him follow you up to your place, and you think it might be because of how nervous he’s acting. He flinches away from the wall when he barely brushes it, almost tripping over his own boots as he goes up the stairs. He’s been shy from the get-go, but this-

“Arroven,” you murmur, turning to look up at him, hand pausing on your door handle. “Is something wrong?”

He breathes out, turning his head so the plugs in his earlobes clack against his horns, blue-green eyes roving over the hall. “No,” he says slowly, forcing himself to stop hunching into his hoodie, to take his wringing hangs out of the front pocket. “I’ve just, it’s just that I keep-” He stays where he is, brow furrowing for all of five seconds before he’s huffing and stepping into your space. When Arroven leans down, his pupils are needle thin, that sunshine warm smell suffusing the air. He was summoning up courage, you realize, just in time to let your eyes fall closed as he cradles your jaw with both hands. They dwarf your human face, his fingertips easily reaching all the way to the back of your neck, but his touch may well be the softest thing you’ve ever known. His kiss is more the brush of his mouth over the shape of yours, a slip of a taste when his tongue follows the curve of your lower lip. He hums, softly, but when you kiss him back? When your tongue touches his and you try to stand on your tip-toes to deepen things, when you stumble a step closer—Arroven’s groan is gratifying. Achingly slowly, he draws his hands down the side of your neck, leaving you free to control the pace of the kiss. His thumbs trace your collarbone, slow, deep circles that make you wish you weren’t standing out here, fully clothed and too warm.

You pull away, licking your lips and glancing down the hall. There’s no one there, despite your pulse loud in your ears and your breath heaving, surely loud enough to wake even those in the very depths of sleep. Arroven’s breath hitches, and for a moment he sways, ready to chase you for another kiss. “Wait, wait,” you say softly, trying not to smile too wide when his eyes flicker open, dark pupils growing larger. He starts to straighten, embarrassment lifting his shoulders. “Maybe we should get in my house first?” You rush to say, not wanting to potentially scar one of your neighbors, but not wanting him to rush away either.

His mouth opens on reflex, and then closes, slipping into a gentle smile. “Yes,” he says, and then you have to swallow, watching his eyes slide down to your hands and then further down to your knees.  

You get your door open before he touches you again, but you’re only a few steps inside when Arroven reaches for you. He strokes the back of his knuckles down your forearm, fingertips only barely grazing your hips. “I’ve missed this,” he whispers, one of his fingers catching two of yours. “Touching,” he explains, the edge of his thumbnail stroking over your wrist and the base of your thumb and back. “Being close to, well…” He breathes in when you step into him, and grows as still as a statue when you balance against him, reaching around his middle to swing the front door shut. This close, Arroven still smells of sunshine, but there’s a sweeter, crisper undertone that makes you want to close your eyes to savor it, to breathe it in. He’s nearly vibrating with you pressed close though, hands hovering somewhere over the middle of your back, trying to keep himself still. He’s waiting for you to give him the go ahead, still caught up in his nerves... Or maybe just manners?

You grin, gently pushing yourself back a step before you smooth out your expression. “Part of your hoard?” You wonder aloud, but then you can’t keep yourself straight faced any longer, wanting him to recognize the words for the gentle teasing they are. You smile. “How about you touch me then?”

Arroven huffs, pleased, and then you quickly discover how needy he can be. He kisses you all the way down the hall, his wings nearly catching on picture frames, hands trembling in their stroking over your back. He keeps pausing at the top of your hips, like he wants to let his hands drift lower, but focuses on his mouth instead, mouth and teeth moving from your lips, to your jaw and down to your neck. You don’t think he’s willing to risk going further though, knowing that it would likely end up with both of you unbalanced and on the floor instead of the bed. 

“Distracted?” You ask, reaching blindly around your doorframe, searching for the lightswitch as Arroven’s tongue flickers over the pulse on the left side of your neck. Your own breathing stutters for a moment, heat building in your veins. “You keep-”

Arroven’s breath puffs over the damp patch he’s left on your skin as he lifts his head, violet tongue sliding along the sharp points of his teeth. “Hardly,” Arroven interrupts, and his wings tense when you hook your fingers into the neck of his hoodie, drawing him further into the room. Your fingers find the lightswitch, the soft ring of the bulb lighting strangely loud in the room. “You’re all I can see. All I can focus on. ..am I missing something? Cues?” He asks, voice gone lower when you give his hoodie a fierce tug. He follows, all too willingly, fingers flexing around your hips. 

“Hardly,” you say back, teasing as you back up towards the bed. You pull when you lean back, expecting him to let you fall, to fall with you, but his wings flare again. He catches himself on the blankets, hands to either side of your body, the blue-green of his eyes swallowed by his pupils as he takes the sight of you in. “Still good?” You ask after a moment, because he’s staring, because he hasn’t moved a muscle. 

“Tell me,” Arroven blurts, arms tensing as his fingers twist into the blankets. “Tell me what to do,” he pleads, gaze catching on every sliver of bared skin he can find. “I’m.. finding it a little difficult to think. All I want to do is make you happy, make you want to-” He stops, feathered brows drawing together as he considers his words.

You arch an eyebrow, your hands stilling just shy of his chest. The way he’d hesitated, his flighty touches? they all make a bit more sense now. He’d asked you to stay in the city, had mentioned your belonging here. If you wanted to leave, if you insisted on stopping, Arroven wouldn’t keep you. But he wants you to stay here.

  “Little to no thinking,” you muse, unable to keep from smiling as he hangs onto your every word. “Undress me,” you finally decide, and his nostrils flare before he sets to work. He’s terribly careful, every brush of his scaled knuckles whisper-soft and cool against your skin, but his breathing is ragged by the time he’s finished and your heart has sped in response. You’re tempted to make him undress himself too. In fact, he would probably do just as you asked, but you’re too impatient to get your hands back on him. “Hoodie off,” you declare, half amazed that he’s obeying your whims, “and lay down on the bed.”

Arroven listens immediately, tucking his wings in close before he’s pulling off the hoodie, careful around the curl of his horns and the arch of his wings. He isn’t wearing a shirt, but with his wings, you understand why. Most of those with wings don’t favor mass produced clothes or modern fashion. He’s on the bed before you can finish pushing yourself back up, jeans low on his hips, pale belly and chest all the brighter compared to the black and teal pattern of his scales. His legs spread reflexively when you stand, jeans growing taut when you reach for him. Your hands are steady, even if your pulse isn’t, but Arroven doesn’t seem to care. He looks blissed out from this much touch alone, jaw gone slack, eyelids heavy as you unbutton and unzip his jeans. He exhales when you pull at his jeans, eyes zeroed in on your face.

He’s thicker than he is long, and as pale as his abdomen, save for a violet tinge that makes you think of his tongue. Nestled as he is in the ‘v’ of his unzipped jeans, it’s all you can do to keep yourself from stroking him straight away, or even leaning down to-

“Maybe I can think,” Arroven says hoarsely. He lifts one of his hands, gentleman-like, offering it to you palm up. “Let me?” He asks, though you’re not entirely sure what he wants you to let him do.

Mannerly, you can’t help but think, lips twitching as you place your hand in his. The older races are, generally. It’s something to fall back on if they’re nervous or unsure. Not that most of them would ever admit to it.

“Are you thinking I should leave your boots on?” You get one knee on the bed before you pause, glancing back at his legs still hanging over the edge.

Arroven hums, but his grip on your fingers tightens for a second, not wanting to let go. “I’ll worry about those later,” he says, and then inhales sharply when you straddle his lap, cock pulsing as you settle against him. If he wants to let his jeans tangle around his boots, you’re not going to complain. It’s a bit of a thrill, knowing that he’s too impatient to fuss with them.

“Boots on, then. Now, what am I supposed to let you do?” You lean forward, drawing an aimless, spiraling pattern from his abdomen up to his ribcage. He’s much warmer now, with you astride his thighs and his wings trapped beneath him on the bed. It looks uncomfortable, but he hasn’t mentioned them once.

Hesitant, Arroven’s hold on you loosens, and then his hand drops to your thigh, eyebrows furrowing when he finally speaks. “Sit on my face?”

The brevity of it, the tone of uncertainty, makes your mouth twitch. “Jumping right in there, aren’t we? And here I thought you were kind of shy.”

“I am!” Arroven blurts and then covers his face with one hand, laughing quietly at himself. “I am,” he says, a bit more composed when he lets his hand fall away. “Though shyness has hardly ever been a factor in my favor. What is it humans say? Better to rip off the bandage?”

You crawl halfway up his body, smiling wider when he forgets to breathe. “Had to get the anxiety out of the way?” You brush a kiss over his chin, eyes catching on the curl of his horns. He’s moved so carefully that you’ve yet to feel the sharp points of them catching your skin, but if you sit on his face… You ignore Arroven’s disappointed sigh as you turn away to stroke the pad of your thumb over his right horn, wondering whether he has any feeling in them. They’re as ink dark as some of his scales and twisted in a lovely spiral that perfectly circles his pointed, gauged ears. Arroven isn’t reacting like he has sensation in them, though he reacts to every other little touch of you against his scales. “You’re going to have to help me balance,” you confess, sitting back against his middle. “Because even though they aren’t terribly sharp, I rather think I’ll be risking my thighs. Don’t you?”

Arroven stares, blinking, and then he looks horrified, which makes you wonder how long it’s been since he’s been close to a human, if ever. 

“I’m not against this,” you add, grinning, “just to be clear.”

For a moment, all he says in response is a strangled sounding “Ah,” before he blinks again, glancing up at the ceiling. “I can... I will help. I’ll be careful. More than careful.”

It takes a few moments, and some adjustment, before you’re finally able to settle over his face. Your heart starts to pound a little faster when Arroven opens his mouth, those dagger-like teeth flashing in the dim light. His hands are strong though, curling around your thigh and bracing your hip. He’s too tall for you to do more than help balance against his chest, though you can see that he’s still wonderfully hard, and his cock is starting to leak. You’d love nothing more than to take him in hand, to taste him, but then Arroven nips your inner thigh, and you stop paying attention to his cock and start focusing on sensation. Your fingers curl at the first hot swipe of his tongue, pressing a little hard into the ventral scales over his chest, and the next slow lick has your eyes falling closed. 

It’s not easy to stay steady, to keep your arms and legs from quivering the longer he licks and slurps. Arroven sucks small kisses over your thighs and the left cheek of your ass, his teeth only ever the barest pressure on your skin. His horns graze you, but he’s true to his word in keeping you balanced. The texture of them against your skin is just something more to feel, to enjoy as he tilts his head this way and that. Pleasure builds, faster by far than the magic that built in your veins, that left you aching with the need to come to the city. If that ache had been anything close to what you’re feeling now, warm, and slick, with the heady pressure of Arroven’s fingers on your skin, you would have picked up on the breadcrumb trail a lot sooner.

“You’re go- going to push me over the edge,” you warn with a gasp, legs starting to tremble. He moves you in response, starts to rock your hips so all he has to do is stick out his tongue, but your hands are shaking now too, cluing him into your urgency. Arroven shakes his head from side to side, a little wild, the plugs in his earlobes clattering against his horns with every shift. You bite down on your lower lip, orgasm rolling swiftly over you and nearly choke on the curse that wants to leave your mouth. He keeps you there, aching and weak, until you pat awkwardly at his chest, releasing you reluctantly with one last obscene noise of satisfaction. 

You sit next to him, still a little unsteady and grin down at his pleased, messy face. “Now, unless you have any other lovely thoughts to share - your turn?”  

His rough sounding “Please,” has your libido jumping back into overdrive, but it’s safety that has you slipping off the bed to dig out a bottle of lube from your things. He’s half pushed himself back up when you come back to the bed, resting on his elbows, fingers twisted gently into the blankets. His wings are partially stretched out now too, one of them reaching all the way to the end of your bed. 

“Are your wings alright?” You ask, wondering if you should throw away the idea of climbing back into his lap, lube already pooling in the palm of your hand.  

Arroven smiles again though, waving away your worry. “Tense,” he offers, as explanation. “I was more focused on you, but they’re good. I promise.” His cock bobs as you approach, and then he lays back down, irises vanishing into the ether of his pupils. 

“If you promise, I suppose I’ll let it go.” You close the lube, only a bit ungracefully, and toss it to the side, climbing back onto the bed and straddling his thighs.

  Your first wet squeeze of his cock has him whimpering, your hand barely fitting around him at his thinnest point. When you stroke, he bucks nearly unseating you until he claps his hands onto your thighs, muttering a hasty apology. Despite being tempted to laugh, you narrow your eyes, squeezing him just a little harder. “You don’t have to be still, but move a little slower for now, hm?”

“Of course,” he rushes to say, and then his jaw goes slack when you press him against you. “Oh,” he breathes, nails pricking your skin as you hold him in place. You rub yourself against his cock, up and back down, a slow undulation that makes you tense, still sensitive from your earlier orgasm. 

And then you straighten, pressing the head of his cock into you. The first slow stretch of him inside you echoes the steady ache of magic, has your breath rushing from your lungs in a gasp. “Fuck,” you breathe and then glance at Arroven’s face. His head is tilted back, mouth open to reveal all of those sharp teeth, and his eyes are closed tight. You think he might be keeping himself from looking at you, might be trying to stem the urge to buck again, to move at all. You tilt your hips and press yourself down though, wiggling, and then Arroven is cursing. You don’t recognize the language, but you understand the sentiment behind it, the pleading tone that softens the edges of the words. It’s hard to concentrate, to keep yourself from getting distracted when all you want to do is sink down every inch of him and then just lay on his chest, trying to catch your breath. “Too much?” You manage to ask, but all Arroven does is shake his head and then carefully ease his grip on your thighs, stroking down to your knees and back up. Your legs, among other things, are definitely going to ache after this.

You ride Arroven until he’s a shaking, breathless mess, until he can’t help but tense his thighs every time he bottoms out, and you can barely stay up. You reach up, fingers just barely brushing his chin to make him pay attention. “Fuck me,” you command and his wings stretch to either side with force. You nearly scream when he starts fucking into you with purpose, and as lovely as your neighbors have been, you have the feeling they’re going to complain at some point. Every thrust has you tightening up on reflex, still shaky from your earlier orgasm, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself upright. A few moments later and Arroven arches as he comes inside you, clutching tightly to you until he’s finished, breath deep and rasping. You don’t wait. Carefully you flop down next to him, smiling tiredly against the blankets. You’re not sure your legs will carry you for the next hour or so, but it’s hardly something to complain about. 

“Do you give all newcomers to the hoard such a.. Vigorous welcome?” You ask, laughing, your voice rough, not really expecting him to answer. Even though he’s clearly a little more comfortable, even though he’s been clinging to your skin and he looks wrecked by all the activity. Arroven nearly chokes.

“No,” he says immediately. “Moments like this,” he murmurs, reaching out for you, ventral scales on his palm smooth over the apple of your cheek, “moments like this are few and far between.” There’s a low rumble of noise from him when you roll close to brush another kiss over his lips, eyes fluttering closed. It’s all you can do not to laugh again, not to quote the poem at him or interrupt the soft moment. It still sits in the back of your mind though, sweet and lilting.

the city is hoarding hearts

it draws them in, with coin, with art

reflects their dreams on mirrored glass

sings siren songs to catch them fast

the lights?

they gleam, they glitter, bright

it steals a piece, with every sight

roots get worn

they split, they splinter

'but i'll keep you warm, in the depth of winter'

the city whispers, it cajoles, it cries

it'll sink it's talons into your thighs

it tears, it scrapes, it batters the unwary

but oh, the love it gifts, to those who tarry

the city promises, you'll be most adored

so can you, will you, join the hoard?

[themurphyzone]

PatB Oneshot: Crystal Clear

AN: Part of an art trade with @plutonis in honor of her upcoming wedding. She tasked me with writing an introspective piece for a Brinky wedding. The art piece I requested is for the next chapter of Nova, so you’ll see the finished product there. 

Prompt given by Pluto: I was wondering if you could do a little fic in which Brain is walking down the aisle on his wedding day, and we hear the thoughts going on in his head. What is he thinking? How is he feeling?

AO3 Link

If Brain had his way, he would’ve taped himself to the table leg with extra strong industrial strength duct tape and remained there for the rest of his life.

But Romy wouldn’t let him attach himself to said table leg, and Wakko already ate the duct tape to prevent him from getting it. All other binding materials, including the shoe strings and gluesticks, had been placed on a shelf mockingly out of his reach.

And since he was already in his wedding dress, he couldn’t even climb the shelf to retrieve the necessary materials.

“Dad, you’re killing the glarb,” Romy complained as he pried Brain from the table leg.

“Unhand me at once or so help me, Roman Numeral One!” Brain shouted, trying to break free from Romy’s grip, but it seemed their son had inherited Pinky’s unusual strength.

Wakko wasn’t any help either. He just watched the spectacle from his perch on the dresser, chomping on a platter of garlic prawns swiped from the catering company. Thankfully, Brain had the foresight to order plenty of garlic prawns for their celebratory dinner.

As soon as Romy’s grip loosened, Brain broke free and reattached himself to the table leg.

Funny, how he wanted this for so long. Yearned for it. And when the time came, even after all the progress he’d made, he was still afraid for reasons he didn’t understand.

It was illogical, he knew. He trusted Pinky more than anyone else, even himself.

But even that wasn’t enough to get him moving again.

“Guess someone’s gotta tell Ma you’re not coming,” Romy sighed.

Brain’s fingers dug into the wooden grooves.

“He’s definitely gonna cry. Probably gonna curl up on the couch and watch daytime soap operas with buckets of triple fudge ice cream or something,” Romy continued.

Sweet, innocent Pinky being heartbroken at his own wedding. Running off and doing who-knows-what, because he could be very unpredictable when he was truly distraught. His simple mind eroding away because of the unhealthy combination of trashy soap operas and ice cream diet.

Brain’s heart clenched uncomfortably at that mental image. With great reluctance, Brain let go of the table leg and marched over to the mirror to smooth out the wrinkles in his wedding dress to keep his hands occupied as he quelled that troublesome idea.  

“You’re gonna tell him that Brain’s in here, right?” Wakko asked.

“Sure,” Romy replied.

Wait...everyone knew of his intentions to see this wedding through to the end. And he'd never let the hard work and efforts of their wedding plans go to waste.

It was just a ploy.

Brain took a deep breath. To lose his temper before the ceremony would surely spell catastrophe. He wanted to keep this an emotionally satisfying occasion, for Pinky’s sake.

“Romy, I won’t deny that your tactic was effective. But you will refrain from using my fondness for Pinky against me in the future,” Brain said.

Perhaps Roman Numeral One took after him more than he thought. It was impressive and aggravating at the same time.

"Sorry, Dad." Romy's head dropped as he handed the bouquet to Brain.

Like with Pinky, Brain just didn't have it in him to remain angry once an apology was issued. He transferred the bouquet to one hand and lifted Romy's chin from its downcast position.

"Look alive, Romy. This is a celebration," Brain ordered as he turned back to the mirror. "And Wakko, you're not touching our wedding rings with prawn-stained hands."

Wakko pulled out a kitchen sink from his hammerspace and started washing his hands without removing his gloves. With the soft hum of Happy Birthday in the background, Brain turned back to the mirror and examined himself one more time. They didn’t have long before the ceremony began.

His dress towed the line between simple and extravagant. Ruffles in the right places, but not so many that it would hinder movement. A small hole had been cut to fit his tail, carefully sized so that it was easy to thread the stiff appendage through. His sleeves cut off at the elbow, white fabric giving way to a delicate flower pattern, lending an elegant and dignified quality to the outfit.

It hadn’t been easy obtaining this dress. He’d lost track of how many toy aisles Pinky had dragged him down, and he didn’t want his outfit to come from the toy section of Walmart. Pinky had eventually called Dot for help, and with her connections, she arranged for a fashion designer who specialized in making clothes for dolls to help them out.

And while they eventually put the issue of clothes behind them, they had a fair number of arguments when Brain found a reason to reject all the dresses Pinky suggested. Especially with that gaudy puffed sleeve dress Pinky loved but Brain hated.

“I realize we must’ve been insufferable for the past few months,” Brain said. Planning for a wedding wasn’t anything like planning for world domination, as he learned the hard way. But it was Pinky’s wedding as much as it was his, and after one vehement disagreement, Brain had realized he was pushing out Pinky’s contributions to impose his own.

It wasn’t easy, but he did try to turn over some aspects to Pinky, just to see how he did with them. And Brain didn’t regret that choice, because the results were absolutely wonderful.

“Yeah, you and Ma were ruining my vibes,” Romy gave a lazy smile as Brain nudged him in retaliation.

Romy had said something similar when he’d first run away from home, but mischief had long replaced the anger. Though Brain still didn’t think ventriloquism was a lucrative career, he’d made his peace with Romy’s lifestyle while repairing their relationship. And Romy wasn’t the only one who derived happiness from working with dummies.

“Regardless, we’re grateful that you came,” Brain said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Romy shrugged. “Better save your sap for the ceremony though.”

“I’m not being sappy,” Brain muttered out of principle rather than true irritation.

It was 2:55 pm. Five minutes until the ceremony began. He was running out of time.

He quickly fixed his leaf crown and attached veil so that it was less crooked. In years past, he never would’ve been satisfied until a golden crown with embedded jewels rested atop his head. But now he found the leaf crown was worth so much more than gold.

Then he made sure the transparent veil covered his face. The thin fabric didn’t hinder his vision, but he felt like he was looking through a lens.

Everyone would be watching him. He wanted that thin wall of privacy between himself and the onlookers. Seeing outside, but concealing his feelings within.

He didn’t have to. He knew he didn’t. But old habits die hard, it seemed.

The clock chimed three. It was time.  

What could go wrong?

“Don’t worry!” Wakko exclaimed as he picked up the purple velvet cushion with their wedding rings. “I didn’t mistake these for tiny Ring Pops this time!”

Brain was a fool. A sentimental, lovestruck, starcrossed, and twitterpated fool.

Wakko brought up the lead as they marched through the twisting hallways of the enormous property they’d rented for their Hawaiian wedding. Surprisingly, coming up with a location for their wedding hadn’t been difficult. After a stressful day of making other arrangements, they’d chosen a scenic, relaxing travel documentary to unwind.

As soon as the documentary showed a beautiful Hawaiian beach at sunset, they both agreed on making Hawaii the destination of choice for both wedding and honeymoon. Brain gripped the flower bouquet tightly, careful not to crush the petals between his fingers. Romy’s hand was on his elbow, light enough to not be intrusive but quick to react so Brain didn’t run into a wall.

He’d assigned Pinky to the task of flower selection, and Pinky had researched the meaning of flowers extensively with an unusual amount of focus. If Pinky had his way, he would’ve gathered one specimen of every flower in the world and brought them to the wedding, though Brain eventually convinced him to narrow his list down to a single digit range.

Brain was only familiar with the rose as a symbol of love, and he recalled the meaning of only two other flowers within their wedding. The rest were completely lost on him. The first was the magnolia, which represented perseverance. As such, a white magnolia stood proudly in his bouquet, nestled among the red roses of passionate love. Pinky had chosen the magnolia for Brain, and insisted Brain choose at least one flower too.

Though Brain didn’t place much stock in what the websites claimed, he just went along with it to humor Pinky. But he’d settled on the colorful freesia, just to thank Pinky for his friendship, faith, and trust for all the years they’d known each other.

Their miniature procession stopped at a glass sliding door that separated them from the rest of the proceedings.

Brain gulped and clutched the bouquet to his chest.

Beyond those doors, the wedding guests mingled with each other on the grass. A gorgeous, azure beach formed the perfect backdrop to the ceremony. White, fluffy clouds dotted the sunny skies, and the beauty was rather foreign to him. He’d spent far too much of his life hiding away in the darkness of a sterile lab.

It seemed the entirety of their Animaniacs coworkers had shown up for the wedding. He was surprised by the turnout, but it seemed that everyone had been clamoring for him and Pinky to tie the knot for years.

And while the usual toon antics were prevalent among the guests, Brain’s attention was drawn to the very front, where Pinky was arranging flowers on Pharfignewton, who’d jumped at the offer of being Pinky’s best mare.

Back then, the sight would’ve incited a feeling he’d come to realize was jealousy. Now he was just grateful that Pinky received some physical affection from someone when Brain couldn’t give it to him.

Wakko opened the screen door, causing a stir among the guests in the back, which caused a ripple effect that spread to the front and prompted everyone to take their seats. Pinky slid off Pharfignewton’s back, bouncing on his toes and craning his neck to see Brain.

Even from this far away, Brain saw Pinky’s bright, goofy smile. It made him regret keeping the veil over his face, cloaking his happiness even from his partner.

“Testing, testing!” Yakko said into the microphone. When he’d been ordained to officiate a wedding, nobody knew for sure. He shuffled through the cards for his opening speech. “Alright, everyone. We’ve all been very impatient for this moment, so no more delays, capiche? Dot, start the music!”

A hush fell across the audience, and even the most rambunctious members of the Animaniacs crew fell silent as a soft piano arrangement of A Whole New World began to play.

Wakko proudly held the cushion with the wedding rings over his head and marched to the front. From the aisle, Mindy reached into her basket and threw pink flower petals into the air, and Buttons held onto her so she didn’t fall out of her seat.  

Romy released Brain and followed Wakko. Pinky greeted their son with an enthusiastic hug, and Bunny flashed them a thumbs-up from her seat.  

All the attention was on Brain now.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted it.

He wanted to flee inside the house. Tell everyone to go home and they’ll get refunded the costs at a later date. Take Pinky to city hall and sign a document to make their marriage official instead.

The audience whispered.

He saw the worry in Pinky’s eyes, a stunning shade of blue that popped out from the beautiful Hawaiian beach. They were too far from each other to speak normally, but Pinky laid his hand on top of the colorful freesia pinned to his white dress shirt, just over his heart.

Trust me, he was saying.

And Pinky had proven himself worthy of his trust long ago.

Slowly, Brain laid his hand on the magnolia, the centerpiece of his bouquet.

I won’t give up.

Pinky smiled that soft, knowing smile of his. Emboldened by his encouragement, Brain stepped out of the house and onto the white, silky path that had been laid out for him.

He took slow, methodical steps to steel his nerves. This was his reward, and he was allowed to have it.

No more electricity, no more fear of rejection.

The happiness of having someone by his side. The sorrow when they were separated either by force or by choice. The surprise of receiving gifts from Pinky when he’d done nothing to deserve them. The guilt that came from upsetting Pinky with morally questionable schemes.

Emotions he’d once derided as frivolous were now precious and dear to him.

All the good, all the bad, and everything in between. And this occasion marked a brand new beginning, a new chapter of their lives that would bring new happiness and surprises. Though they’d be sad, angry, or terrified sometimes, they’d always be together.

That’s what counted most.

The melody of A Whole New World floated gently through the air. An airy tune filled with wonder at a world previously unknown to them.

He and Pinky dueted this song so many times that the lyrics and background instrumentals were permanently etched into his mind.

Only now did he understand what the song was truly about. Leaving behind their defined roles, into a freedom-filled sky. Just the two of them, exploring a huge world together. The burdens of the past and worries of the future left on the ground, and all that mattered was the present.

Being themselves, and experiencing things they’ve never experienced before.

It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

He could hardly wait.

Pinky waited for him, taking Brain’s hand in his own. He was absolutely breathtaking up close.

“Narf,” Pinky whispered, and Brain would never tire of that endearingly stupid word. “You did it, Brain.”

“All thanks to you, Pinky,” Brain replied, and Pinky’s tail wagged at the praise.  

Together, they walked to that beautiful wedding arch with intertwining pink and blue flowers, stopping in front of Yakko’s podium. Brain gave his bouquet to Romy so he could properly hold Pinky’s hands. Romy gave them a lazy grin, and Pharfignewton lowered her head so Romy could have a good perch. Wakko proudly balanced the cushion on his head, and Dot stood beside her brother, giving him a friendly shove without knocking the wedding rings off.

And Brain realized he was still seeing the world through veiled eyes. Though his vision was unimpeded, he’d barely noticed there was a filter among all his doubts and fears.

He’d kept the veil for a transparent amount of privacy when he walked down the aisle, but now that he was with Pinky…

Well, it just wasn’t necessary anymore.

He brought Pinky’s hands to the veil. Their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them.

Then Pinky threw back the veil, and the filter he’d been looking through was completely gone. And Brain saw the...no, he saw his world through fresh eyes.

A bright, happy, silly mouse stood before him, a colorful burst of freesia on his chest, and beautiful sky-blue eyes filled with endless love, promising hope and warmth and companionship forever more.

“You’re so pretty, Brain,” Pinky giggled.

It was the most wonderful sound for his compass, his heart, and his world.  

No more tolerating. He fully accepted the undeniable fact of how much he loved Pinky, and Pinky loving him back from this point forward.

Never before had he felt so much happiness, and he was ready for everyone to see it.

Unable to contain himself, Brain leapt into Pinky’s arms and kissed him. Though he heard their audience reacting with shock, it was all just background noise to him. And he’d never been a patient mouse.

Pinky was surprised at first, but his strong arms wrapped around Brain to support him, and he kissed back wonderfully.

Fireworks exploded in Brain’s mind, or maybe the Warners set some off, he didn’t know. But he had to come up for air, and he released the kiss, though it seemed Pinky could keep going for quite some time.

“Technically, you’re supposed to wait until I say ‘you may now kiss the Brain’, but who am I to stop true love?” Yakko grinned.

“Sorry,” the mice chorused, though neither of them regretted the little break in protocol.

The audience burst into cheers, and Yakko led them in a standing ovation for a good five minutes before they all settled down enough for him to start his opening speech.

“Love you, Brain,” Pinky whispered as he put Brain down and took his hands again.

“Love you too, Pinky,” Brain replied, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Everything was laid out before them, clear as crystal and bright as day.

End AN: This is cheesy but I don’t care I love it and they’re married now. 

The Hawaiian setting is not a reference to the PatB fic Trouble in Paradise, it’s just that the last wedding I went to was in Hawaii and it was so romantic.

3rd time I’ve referenced A Whole New World in these fics. This song is just too perfect for them. 

[monoxidecahedron]

home is where the heart is- jamilmads

I have, in fact, been writing! Have some Jamilmads. I’m working on Wings Of Privilege, I promise, but in the meantime here’s this. TW for alcohol/drunkenness

Thomas sighed. He’d gone to the bar to relax, not to deal with his very inebriated coworker, but here he was, standing outside with a drunk Alexander Hamilton leaning on him. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get you home.” 

“Home is where the heart is,” Alexander muttered. Thomas just shook his head. 

“Well, where do you sleep at night, then?” Alexander just turned away, ignoring him. “You’re my home,” he said, barely audible. Thomas froze. 

“You’re drunk,” he said, more to himself than to Alex. No. Alex didn’t mean it that way. Besides, James was waiting for him at home, loyal like he’d always been, steady and unyielding and always there. And yet here Thomas was, hoping Alex did mean it that way. 

After some prodding and a lot of nonsense on Alex’s part, it became clear that he was not going to tell Thomas where he lived. So he hauled Alex into the backseat of his car and set the route to his and James’ flat, the monotone “route set for Home” ringing in the quiet. As blurred lights flashed by the windows, beacons among the general darkness of the night, Alex was silent, seemingly thinking. Thomas took this time to get his thoughts in order.

He did love James, he really did. Truly. But- Alex. Alex with his fiery passion, his never-ending energy, the way something inside him seemed to spark when he fought, the way his words flowed, powerful and moving, even though the power was often directed against him. It was a dilemma he never seemed to be able to solve. On the one hand, there was James, cool and collected, a steady presence always near him, quiet but strong in its own way. On the other hand, there was Alexander, whirlwind of fire and fury, always moving, always climbing towards something, leaving everyone in the dust. Except Thomas. Thomas could keep up. Thomas was the one who was challenging him constantly, pushing his limits, one foot on the ground next to James and the other chasing Alex. 

The light turned red and Thomas braked. It had started raining, and the windows were blurred with water, a soft pattering sound indicating raindrops landing on the car. “You’re in love,” Alex said.

“Well of course, I’ve always been in love with James,” he responded, although his chest tightened as he shoved aside his feelings for Alex. The man in the backseat scrunched up his face.

 “No, with me,” he said. Thomas twisted in his seat to face him. 

“What-?” 

“Yeah,” Alex said, in his own world already. “Yeah, you love me. I mean, I wish.” 

“What?” 

“Never mind,” he huffed, crossing his arms. Thomas would have rolled his eyes at the childish behaviour, but he was still stuck on “I wish”. What did he mean? He wished Thomas loved him? That was silly, he thought, because I do love him. Alex gave him a strange look, almost like he was scrutinizing him. “What?” Thomas asked. 

“The light’s turned.” Thomas turned back to see that the light was, indeed, green. 

“Fuck!” The car started moving again.

“Mmmm, yes please,” Alex muttered, eyes closed sleepily. Thomas tried to ignore him and the mental images forming in his head, gripping the wheel tighter and staring determinedly at the road. The harsh swish-swish of the windshield wipers seemed to pierce the silence. Neither of them spoke. 

When they finally arrived at the flat, five minutes later, Thomas pulled an umbrella out of the car’s internal storage (silently thanking James for his constant refrain of ‘you never know’) and opened the door, going around to do the same for Alex. When it clicked open, Alex didn’t move, just sat there, quiet. Thomas sighed, climbing into the backseat and unbuckling Alex, prodding him a little bit. When he still didn’t move, he sighed again and picked him up, pulling him out and closing the door with his foot. Silently he worried about how easy it was to hold the small man in his arms, but he didn’t say anything, carrying him inside instead.

James, who had been sitting at the table inside, looked up immediately as the door swung open. “Thomas, who’s- is that Hamilton?” 

“Iss’ me,” Alex slurred, waving a floppy hand from Thomas’s bridal-style hold. Thomas moved, shutting the door behind him and dropping Alex on the couch. “James!” Alex said, smiling and attempting to get up at the sight of him. “Hi! Hello! It’s been a while since we’ve talked. I miss you!” James winced. 

“You do know it was you who screamed at me and ended our friendship, right?” Alexander’s face fell. 

“Oh. Yeah.” Then he waved a dismissive hand, brightening up again. “Ah well, doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?” James, unimpressed, turned to Thomas. “Why is Hamilton here?” Thomas gave him a guilty smile. “I mean… I went to the bar but he was drunk out of his mind and I couldn’t exactly leave him there?” James sighed, rubbing his forehead. “You absolutely could have left him there! You could have- I don’t know, called a taxi! Call Laurens, if you have to!” Thomas sat down next to him. “Look, I know I probably could have, but-” There was no “but”. He had no idea why he’d brought Alex home. Well, actually. Scratch that. He knew exactly why he’d brought him home. He just didn’t want to admit it, and certainly not to James, his actual partner whom he was committed to, who loved him. James just shook his head. “Well, okay, Tom,” he said, “what do you propose we do?” 

“Me!” Alexander piped up from the couch. 

James blushed. “What?” 

Thomas winced, about to warn him not to engage, but oh well. Alex was already propping himself up, grinning. 

“Fuck me!” he said brightly. 

Thomas put his head in his hands. “Alex, just-”

“What?” Alex said, looking from Thomas to James. “You love me! You said so!” James looked stricken. 

“Thomas- I didn’t- I-” Thomas cut across him. 

“Alexander. Stop. Now,” he said tersely, every muscle tense. 

“Whaaaaaaat?” Alex sang. “I’m drunk! You said so!” James shook his head. 

“We have a guest room. You can stay there. Good night, Thomas.” Thomas watched him walk towards their room. He sighed, looking at Alex and wondering if he was worth James’ disappointment. Alex smiled, blissfully unaware as Thomas scooped him up and dumped him in the guest room. 

~~~

The room is filled with pleasant natural light when Alexander wakes up, streaming in through the curtains and highlighting him where he lies on the bed. His hair is a mess, and he feels terrible, he notices, taking stock of the rest of his body. He blinks his eyes open slowly. He looks up and there stands Thomas, leaning against the doorframe in nothing but a tank top. “Er. Hi,” he says, voice a little broken from sleep. Thomas starts, as if he was caught doing something wrong. “Hey.” Alex blinks again, trying to chase away the fog that seems to weigh down his mind. “So, uh, what happened?” Thomas shifts uncomfortably. Something about his movement triggers a memory, snippets of lights and rain and the scent of Thomas flashing through his mind.

You’re my home.

You love me! You said so!

I mean, I wish.

Fuck. How much damage did he do? 

The answer is evident in Thomas’s uncomfortable expression. “Al- Hamilton, look, I-” He starts to say something, but seems to stop himself, deciding instead to tell him, “James made breakfast for all of us, so…” Alex nods, tells him he’ll be out in a minute, watches him go. Wonders what the hell he can do to fix this. He knows. He knows and he doesn’t like him. Stupid, stupid Alex. All those times his mind wandered, all the times he thought he saw something, all those times James gave him a tiny scrap of attention that he clung to, twisting it in his mind into something more…

“I’m done!” Alex shouts. “I’m done dealing with your shit! Go- go fuck around with Jefferson for all I care!” James gives him a hurt look, but turns away silently and walks off. He was never one for direct confrontation.

Alex watches him go, wondering what he just did.

James walks into the room, following Jefferson in his gaudy magenta suit to a seat across the table, right across from him. It’s like they’re trying to distract him; James with his small smiles and kind eyes, Jefferson with his bright laugh and disarmingly handsome features. 

The meeting starts. Washington is talking about something; he knows it’s important, but he can’t tear his mind away from how Thomas’s arms would feel cradling him, James’ soft lips against his, the two of them cherishing him-

He manages to keep himself together for two weeks, until he rounds a corner and finds James pressed against Thomas, kissing like there’s no tomorrow. So that’s it. This is how it ends, he thinks, sinking down onto his knees in his office, head in his hands, sobbing. That’s it. He doesn’t stand a chance anymore. His competition is Thomas and his competition is James. How could he possibly expect one of them to choose him over the other, when they’re both so obviously perfect?

James pokes his head around the doorway. “Alex? You coming?” Alexander nods numbly, dragging himself up stumbling towards the door. James catches him, and Alex resists the urge to wrap his arms around him and slot himself against James’ warm body. Instead, he pushes him away, leaning on the doorframe and waving James off, insisting he’ll be fine. He won’t be fine, not when he’s just revealed his hand and James will never look at him the way he desperately wishes he would, but he can be alive, at least.

When he enters the main room, he finds Thomas and James sitting at the table, laughing at something he didn’t catch. It’s such a domestic scene and he feels his chest tighten at their familiarity. He and James had that once. Before he can sneak out the door, Thomas notices him and waves him over. “Alex! Glad you finally decided to join us.” Alex draws a chair and sits, staring determinedly down at his scrambled eggs. Maybe if he pretends this didn’t happen, if he ignores them-

“Alexander Hamilton, you are not ignoring us like a child,” James chides. Alex huffs. 

“What. What is it,” he snaps childishly. 

“Well, you said some things yesterday,” James starts, choosing to ignore that, his tone stiff and professional. “We’d rather like it if they were true.” 

“M-hm,” Alex mutters sarcastically. Then his head snaps up as he seems to process the words. “Wait, what?” 

“What he means,” Thomas cuts in, “is that James has been pining hopelessly for you for a while and he dragged me into it too and he wants you to like him back.” James shoots him a look, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “I literally admitted I liked him last night”. Alex just stares at the two of them. “Wait. So. You- you want- me?” 

“Well, yes, that’s the general idea,” Thomas says dryly. Alex nods slowly. 

“Okay. And. Uh. What about- you guys’s relationship?” His eloquence seems to have lost him, Thomas notices, making a mental note to tease him about “you guys’s” later. 

“We were thinking, if you’d like, you could join our pre-existing relationship,” James says. Unlike Alexander, he seems to gain eloquence in awkward or new situations, making him sound awfully like a lawyer. Alex seems to be thinking it over in his chair. 

“I- well, okay, I guess? It’s just, like, a lot? I don’t really- I didn’t expect this,” he says, quickly adding, “it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that it’s all a lot to take in, I do like you guys, I really do, it’s just it’s a bit much a bit too suddenly.” 

“That’s okay,” Thomas says. “We can take it slower. Start with a date or something.” Now in more comfortable territory, Alex smirks. “Better be something good, prettyboy, or I’m dumping your ass.” 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. In hindsight, he probably should have recognized that Thomas would have absolutely taken that as a challenge, he thinks, staring openmouthed at the honest-to-god Ferrari that Thomas pulled up in. Said man just grins at him. “C’mon, Hamilton,” he says. “Get in.” 

As Alex pulls the door shut, James glances worriedly at him from the passenger seat. “Are you alright? I told Thomas it was too much but he wouldn’t listen-” 

“I’m fine,” Alex says. “Just- wow.” Thomas smirks, that devastatingly handsome, arrogant expression that Alex goes crazy for. “This fit your definition of  ‘something good?’” 

“I dunno,” he says fake-casually. “I don’t even know where we’re going.” 

“Well, you won’t for a while,” James interjects. “We’ve got a long drive, about forty-five minutes, so buckle up.” 

Forty-five minutes and one date at the pier later, Alexander stands back on his doorsteps, thoroughly tired and happy. Thomas and James insist on walking him to his door, and so there he stands, leaning against Thomas, whose fingers are running through his hair. “Goodnight, Alex,” James says, though he makes no move to go. Alex makes a muffled sound of protest against Thomas’s chest. Thomas laughs. “You have to get to bed, Lex, it’s late,” he says, and Alex can feel the vibrations in his chest. He makes another muffled sound. 

“M’ tired,” he mumbles, pressing his key into James’ hand. “You guys can put me to bed.”

“Alright then,” Thomas says, picking him up as James unlocks the door. It’s dark, and the crickets are chirping, audible even after they enter and shut the door behind them. Alex directs Thomas to his bedroom, and Thomas sets him down gently on the bed. “‘Night,” Alex mutters sleepily. James smiles. “Goodnight, Alexander,” he says. “Goodnight,” Thomas adds. Alexander is already fast asleep.

Yay! 2k of happy Jamilmads! Pleeeease leave a comment I’ll love you forever if you do and reblogs are greatly appreciated! This is your friendly reminder from your local frustrated Tumblr writer that likes do nothing!

~M

[smallheathgangsters]

Habits | M.G.

A/N: So, I combined my submission for @maggiescarborough​‘s writing challenge with a request that I got. It’s pure angst, but I still hope you enjoy. Also, I’m glad I’m back to uploading regularly!

Pairing: Michael Gray x Reader

Word Count: 1649

Type: angst

Summary: Michael leaves for America and when he gets back, there is nothing left to save.

Tag List: @livingforbarnes​ @multi-fandom-iimagines​ @lovemissyhoneybee​ @peakyblindersengland​ @lucillethings​ @callmesunshinexx​ @simonsbluee​ @anyasthoughts​ @sophieshelby​

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You had never met Henry. You had never met the sweet, innocent boy who knew nothing about guns and murder and violence, who knew nothing about the Peaky Blinders and their business. The boy that had helped his foster mom pick apples from trees and his foster dad cut the lawn. The one that had worn colourful ties and light brown trousers with suspenders.

But you had had the privilege to meet Michael before everything went south.

You had helped him find his mother’s home after he had escaped from the country. Birmingham was big and easy to get lost in. You had run into him while he had been wandering cluelessly around Small Heath, a piece of paper with an address in hand.

“May I help you?” you had asked him.

There had been uncertainty in his eyes. “I’m looking for my mother.”

“Is that her address?” you had said, pointing at the note between his fingers. Michael had nodded and passed it over to you. Only a quick glace was necessary for you to realise who he had been looking for.

You had huffed surprised. “Polly Gray is your mother?”

“That’s what the man had told me …”

His voice had been a little shaky. You had quickly noticed that he was from the city. “What man?”

“He said his name was Thomas Shelby.”

You had inhaled deeply when the two last words had left his lips. If this young man really was Polly Gray’s son, then he clearly did not know what he was getting himself into. And of course, Tommy had made sure to take this boy away from his foster family just to expand his army. At least that’s what the Shelby family seemed to have become.

Still, you explained the way to Mrs. Gray’s home to the quiet stranger in front of you. Though, you couldn’t hold back a comment. It had hung at the tip of your tongue. “Be careful …”

He had noticed that the unawareness of his name was the reason for your pause.

“Michael.”

“Michael,” you had repeated. “The Shelby’s are living a very dangerous lifestyle. You don’t seem anything like them. Don’t get caught up in their business. It’ll ruin you.”

You had saw him gritting his teeth. Probably not what he wanted to hear from some random girl on the street in an unknow city.

So, he had simply thanked you for your help and took off.

After that, you didn’t see Michael for a while. And you had almost forgotten about the handsome country boy, when one day you spotted him walking towards you on the street. You were on your way to get some groceries at the shop nearby, planning on baking a lovely apple crumble for your family.

At first, you were unsure if you should keep your head down and ignore him. Walk past and act as if you didn’t recognise him. But your eyes wouldn’t obey. They kept moving to the young man, now dressed in a clearly expensive suit. His hair was slicked back, making him look like a million pounds.

You cursed under your breath for being so captivated by him and tore your gaze away with much effort.

Since Michael was not born yesterday, he had spotted you looking at him. He stopped in his tracks just as you were about to pass him and greeted you kindly.

“Oh, hello Michael.”

“How have you been?”

You shrugged. “Normal?”

Michael chuckled at your response.

“What about you? Have you settled in with your new family?”

“Well, technically they’re my real family,” he corrected you promptly. “But yes, they have been very welcoming. I even got a job in Tommy’s company. Since I went to school the longest, I’m pretty good with numbers.”

“Sounds great,” you said. You felt uneasy knowing he was a Shelby now. The ones who people avoided when they went to the pub or walked down the Small Heath alleys. The ones that made their blood run and their heart beat faster. That made deals with men even more fearsome than themselves.

“Are you on your way home?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I’m going to the store to buy a few things for dinner tonight.”

“I could accompany you, if you like,” Michael offered, giving you a gorgeous smile. You frowned at his proposition. “Don’t you have to be somewhere? You look rather put together to pick up some groceries.”

He laughed. “I don’t mind. And I’m sure waiting half an hour won’t hurt John either.”

Michael went with you to get groceries and escorted you home. He “accidentally” bumped into you the next day again and you had lunch together in a café just a few blocks from your home. Michael invited you to the Garrison one Friday evening and introduced you to his family. He made sure you felt comfortable around the men that intimidated you so much. He started telling you more about the work they did and slowly but surely opened up to you about the aspects that obviously clashed with your morals. He understood and accepted the fact that you could and would not identify yourself with the illegal side of their business.

Nevertheless, you fell in love. You fell in love with Michael because he cared about you so much. He was attentive and gentle and interested in hearing about your day. About the things you liked to do and were passionate about. He was there when you were feeling down and he was there to enjoy the days that simply could not get any better.

You didn’t believe in soulmates, but if they were real, Michael was yours and you were Michael’s.

Then he left.

Fucking America.

Fucking Wall Street.

Fucking stock markets and money and drugs.

He left without an explanation that would help you sleep at night. That would help you with getting up in the morning and going to work. That would calm down the burning anger you had towards the Shelby family.

With Michael leaving, you decided to leave the Shelby’s. As kind as they had been to you, they did not bring any positivity to your life. Not anymore.

Michael did not call. Michael did not write. It was as if he had never existed. But your heart was aching so much, you knew he wasn’t gone. Your heart in his hands, fingers squeezing tightly around it. Almost stopping it from beating.

You had noticed him changing. You had felt his touch getting colder and his words getting fewer. He came home later and went to work earlier.

As foolish as you were, you told yourself to ignore the signs. And in the end, whatever you were trying to save, came crumbling down.

You had counted the days after he’d left. But you eventually stopped. How many years had it been? Two? Three? Four even? You had lost track of time. And just as you thought you were over Michael Gray, he was back in Small Heath.

With a woman.

You tried to push through the busy crowd of a sunny Saturday morning after accidentally locking eyes with him. You wanted to get away. Erase the images that were now spinning around in your head.

Just as you thought you had saved yourself from an unpleasant encounter with the man you had once called yours, a strong hand placed itself onto your shoulder.

“Please wait …”

You spun around, holding the handle of your basked tightly, as though it was giving you the support you needed in this situation.

“I have nothing to say to you,” you spat. Against your own expectations, you didn’t look away.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling back his hand awkwardly.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about if you did it willingly and on purpose. And since you’ve never officially broken up with me, I take your new girl as an indication that our relationship is over, eh?”

You were never one to mince your words, but you knew where to draw the line. Usually. Whereas Michael, standing right in front of you, seemed to be triggering the worst in you. You would not try to be nice. You would use words that hurt. That would stab into his chest and rip out the little of a soul he had left.

Michael winced at your remark. You could see that this conversation was painful. Too bad, he didn’t understand the pain he had put you through when he left you. “I never meant to hurt you–“

You rolled your eyes.

“You know that this business changed me, Y/N. You knew I wasn’t the same man you met when I asked you about Pol’s address,” he continued.

“Oh, how romantic, referring to that day?”

“Please don’t be like that,” he begged. You knew he tried to sound pitiful. It wasn’t working. You were over and done with this theatre.

“It wasn’t the business that changed you, Michael. You yourself decided to change. And you decided to be cruel,” you told him, the tone in your voice harsh. Merciless even.

You watched him close his eyes for a moment, most likely annoyed at your unwillingness to talk this through, maybe even come to an understanding.

There was not one fibre in your body that was having any of it.

“I can’t change the man I am deep inside,” he tried explaining his behaviour. You huffed and shook your head in disbelief. “You’re an asshole, Michael Gray. And just for the record: Cruelty isn’t a personality trait. Cruelty is a habit. And you deliberately made it your habit.”

Then, you turned your back on your former boyfriend and began walking away. Taking the largest and proudest steps possible.

“Where are you going?” he shouted after you, baffled by the outcome of this dialogue.

“Home. To bake a fucking apple crumble.”

[flightlessangelwings]

Found You

I actually combined these two prompts since they overlapped, but I made it longer to make up for it so I hope that’s ok with you guys @depresseddarth66 @allurajarren​!

Contains smut!! fem!reader

~

Mando really didn’t want to land on Coruscant, but it was the closest inhabited planet and supplies were starting to run low. Ever since Navarro, he had been on the search for the child’s home planet with your help, but so far he hadn’t made any progress. You tried your best to comfort him because you could tell the lack of progress was starting to get to Mando, which is why you suggested he land on the next planet for a break while you got supplies. 

It was a risk to go to Coruscant because of the high population and a greater chance he or the child would be recognized, but you gave Mando a wide-eyed look that he couldn’t say no to.

“Come on Mando,” you pleaded, “I’ve never been to Coruscant before and I really want to see it. Plus we could stock up on supplies that’ll last us awhile.”

He sighed as he glanced over to the child, who seemed to share the same look that you had. He wondered if the two of you conspired together against him, “Alright.”

Your face lit up as you gave him a quick pat on his shoulder before you picked up the child to get him something to eat, “You excited to see the big city, little guy?”

The child cooed happily at you as he nestled in your arms. Mando watched as you sat down to rest with the child in your lap and he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to have you both in his life. You and the child were his family now, and he would do anything to protect you both. He had to stop himself from getting too carried away, though, and he pushed down the urge to reach out to you as he made his way to the cockpit.

If only he had turned around, he would have caught the look of longing on your face.

The planet was even busier than you imaged, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes went wide at the hustle and bustle all around you. You had come from a quiet planet, and you’d never seen anything like this before. Even the child seemed mesmerized as he looked around from where you had him strapped to your body.

Mando, on the other hand, kept his guard up as he followed close behind you. He knew anyone could lurk from around the corner, so he made sure to keep you and the child under his watchful eye. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if anything happened to either of you.

You felt safe because you could feel Mando’s presence behind you, and you knew he would always be there to watch over you and the child. But, as you made your way through the open bazaar, you suddenly couldn’t feel him behind you anymore. You gasped as you spun around and searched for the familiar beskar, but you couldn’t see him.

Mando wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow, you suddenly weren’t by him anymore, and immediately his mind thought the worst. He cursed under his breath as he pushed his way through the crowd to get back to your side. Mando started to panic as more time went by and he still couldn't find you.

A scream that broke through the crowd confirmed his worst fear, and Mando immediately recognized that voice as yours. He shouted for people to move and he all but pushed anyone aside who stood in his way. Nothing would stop him from reaching you. Mando could faintly hear your voice scream his name, and he swore his heart stopped for a moment.

“Hang on, I’m coming,” he muttered to himself as he bolted down a dark alley where your voice echoed from.

When Mando finally found you, the sight in front of him made him freeze in his tracks. Two men held you by your arms, and each had a weapon raised against you and the child. The terrified look on your face was something he never wanted to see again. Mando raised his arms as he took a tentative step closed to you. 

“Let them go,” Mando’s voice was firm, and hid his panic completely.

“I don’t think so,” one of the men pulled you in closer and raised his knife against your neck, “I’ve heard about this kid here, and it’s gonna make us rich,” he snarled, “And I’ll keep the girl just because I want to.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you wrapped your arms around the child. As frightened as you were, you remembered the promise you made to Mando when the child first came into your lives: you would do anything to protect him. 

Mando raised his blaster in the blink of an eye and aimed it at the one that held you, “Let. Them. Go,” he repeated in a low growl.

The child, who had been covered by your arms, looked between the Mandalorian and the second man who accosted you. In their standoff, no one saw his little hand raise until the other man started to choke on nothing. The man who held you got distracted, and Mando used that split second to rush in on him.

The bounty hunter pushed you out of the way so you wouldn't be caught in the crossfire and swiftly took the man down. Once he was on the ground, Mando fired his blaster right in his face before he spun around and shot the second man. The child slumped back against you, exhausted at the use of energy. 

You were so focused on the child that you didn’t even hear the Mandalorian call your name until he cupped your face to get you to look at him, “Are you ok?” 

Your eyes went wide as you could clearly hear the panic in his voice. It caught you by surprise because you had never heard him like that before, “Yeah,” you whispered, “The kid wore himself out again, but we’re ok.” Your breathing started to quicken as the gravity of your situation sank in.

Mando kept his hand on your face as he held onto your waist with the other, “Hey, you’re safe. Look at me- just breathe, ok?”

You took in a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, and once you had yourself under control, he helped you to your feet and kept his arm around you as he guided you back to the ship. He didn’t even care about the supplies or the bodies he left behind. All that mattered were you and the child, and he didn’t stop until you all were safely back to the Razor Crest.

Mando took the child from you and set him down on the little cot so he could rest. You watched him without a word as a pang of guilt ate at you. Once the door was closed, and you and the bounty hunter were alone in the space, you stepped closer to him and spoke in a meek voice, “I’m sorry.”

He turned around, and you could read the surprise in his body language, “For what?”

Tears threatened to form in your eyes, but you fought them back, “I should have paid more attention. It’s my fault this happened. I’m always causing trouble for you because I’m not a fighter.”

Mando gently cupped your face with both hands, “It’s not your fault,” his voice was genuine and reassuring, but you didn’t fully believe his words, “You don’t cause trouble for me at all.”

“But wouldn’t it be easier for you if I wasn’t here? I’m just another person you have to look after. Wouldn’t you be happier if it was just you and the kid?”

The pain in your eyes broke Mando’s heart, and he decided then and there to take a risk, “Do you trust me?” he asked in a hushed voice.

Your brows came together in confusion but you bit your lip and nodded.

Mando dropped his hands from your face to grab his cape and he ripped a long piece off. You stayed still, your trust in him absolute as he placed the fabric over your eyes and tied it securely. When he was satisfied he brushed his hand against your cheek before he reached up to remove his helmet.

“Mando…?” you whispered as you heard a thud. You raised your hands up to reach out for him, and he immediately took hold of them.

The Mandalorian closed the small gap between your bodies as he leaned in against you. Your lips parted as you realized you could feel his breath against your face. In a voice so soft, you almost missed it, he spoke your name and you could feel your cheeks flush.

“Listen to me,” he said as he cupped your face and his lips ghosted over yours, “When I picture myself happy, it’s with you.” And with that, he placed his lips on your in a soft but sweet kiss.

You grabbed onto his shoulders as you tilted your hand back and parted your lips for him to deepen the kiss. A strong arm wrapped around your waist as you embraced him around his shoulders. Both of you were desperate for as much contact as possible, and Mando especially never wanted to let you go. He gently guided you across the room, and you put your complete trust in him. 

You let out a little gasp when you felt the back of your legs hit the table, but you did not break the kiss. Not even when he lifted you up onto the table and settled himself between your legs did you break apart. It was Mando that finally broke the kiss, but it was only so he could move to your neck. You let out a soft moan as he kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin there.

Since you couldn’t see, you had trouble when you tried to reach for him. Your hands ran down the cool beskar as they made their way down to his pants. He groaned when you pushed your way under his pants and to his already hardening length. Slowly, you started to pump him and you felt him rock against your hand.

Mando became more desperate and while he kept one arm around you, he unbuckled your own pants and pushed them down. You smiled against him as you shifted your weight to let him undress you. Heat rose in the dark room, but you still shivered and moaned his name when you could feel his bare skin against yours.

“You sure about this?” he asked as he lined himself up at your entrance.

“Please, Mando,” you begged, and you didn’t care how desperate you sounded.

He kissed you again, but this time it was more feverish and passionate. You held onto the back of his neck and cried into his mouth as you felt him slowly push into you. He whispered your name with a groan once he was fully sheathed inside you.

Mando held still for a moment before he started to thrust himself in and out of you. You pressed your forehead against his as you rocked your hips in rhythm with his. You cried out with pleasure when he changed his angle and hit that sweet spot inside of you.

Your legs started to shake on either side of him, and Mando knew you were close. He picked up his pace; he wanted nothing more than to watch you come undone for him, “Come for me,” he moaned into your ear.

Within seconds, your climax took you over. Your muscles clenched around his length as you cried out and moaned his name. And Mando’s orgasm was right behind yours, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck as your name fell from his lips as he came inside of you.

“I love you,” you whispered into his ear as you both rode out your orgasms.

Mando froze as you flopped forward into his chest. The space was quiet for a minute while you both caught your breaths.

“Did you mean it?” he asked in a soft voice.

You stayed against his chest as you listened to his heart beat, “I did,” you paused, “I’m in love with you, Mando,” you repeated more shyly this time, “I have been for a while.”

Mando placed a kiss to the top of your head before he whispered, “I’ve been in love with you my entire life. Ever since the day I first met you.”

You smiled against his chest before you started to giggle. Here you two were: two people who would chase down the most dangerous bounties in the galaxy that were scared to tell the other that you loved them. Mando soon joined in your laughter, and your heart skipped a beat at how beautiful it sounded. 

He brushed a hand through your hair and gently kissed the top of your head. Things would no longer be the same from here on out, but it was a more than welcome change. And Mando was more resolved than ever to always keep you safe, especially since you two had finally fully found each other. 

~

Mando taglist: @ugly-wall-flower @spottedlekkudancer @smolashie @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @soapjay @ispilledmyink @bva14 @iamakindprincess @pascalisthepunkest  @astronomyturtle @amazingiam00@sinnamon-bunn @weirdowithnobeardo @sylvanas-lover @spaghetti-666 @hollandhiddles @lustriix @suuuckonmyballs @bi-readytobakepie-cry-and-die @catsandbats13   @benakenalove  @lunarstarknight   @ollypopp @thirsty-flygirl @yodaboo 

Pedro Characters Taglist: @tintinwrites @starwarswh0re

[vikingknight90]

(Had to reupload this as something went wrong previously.)

How did Moroha get her ribbon? Inspired by a lovely fanart I had to put this into words. If this isn’t close to how she actually got it, I’ll be rather disappointed with Sunrise, haha.

I hope you enjoy ~

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   Kagome finished putting the laundry over a rope tied between two aspen trees rustling in the early spring wind. She closed her eyes and drew the wonderful scent of washed fabric blended with the fragrance of newly sprouted poppies and bluebells by her feet, greeting her before they did anyone else on that humid day where the sun’s rays had been gently caressing them for an hour or so. The miko straightened the last, honey colored sheet in her hands to rid it of wrinkles and was about to bend down for her basket when the sound of soft crying reached her ears. Moroha?! Kagome nearly stumbled over her basket at the noise and hurried towards her and Inuyasha’s hut where the sound seemed to originate from somewhere behind it. Moroha had eagerly wandered out to play along with Kagome heading out with the laundry, and she had let her. Kagome’s heart swelled at the little bundle of energy Moroha already were at barely four years old, and figured there was no stopping her heading out around their hut to explore and be a child, what would be the harm. But now she cursed herself. Moroha had gotten hurt. She must have fell, hurt her knee, bumped her head or been bitten by some big feudal era bug or something. What if she was bleeding? Kagome’s steps hastened as the sniffling becoming louder, and prepared herself for the worst when she rounded the corner to where her daughter’s distress was coming from. The sight that met Kagome, however, confused her so much she almost forgot to feel relieved.

Moroha didn’t seem to be hurt. Not physically anyway. She was sitting on the ground, her back towards Kagome, and holding something in her hands Kagome soon realized was a mirror. She stood still for a moment and observed as Moroha plucked at her hair that mirrored her own dark color, pulling chunks in the air, then patting them down again, with a body language Kagome saw was clearly upset. Another quiet sob from her daughter’s mouth snapped her out of her staring bewilderment.  

“Moroha?”

The young girl jolted and nearly dropped the mirror as she turned towards her mom. Her dark brown eyes that also mirrored Kagome’s had tears in their corners. Her chubby cheeks were red and puffed, giving away how she’d wiped and rubbed them. Kagome felt as if her heart would burst at how sad Moroha looked right then, but simultaneously the cutest she had seen with her daughter’s big round eyes clearly looking to her for comfort.

“Moroha! Darling, what’s the matter?” Kagome hurried over and picked Moroha up, snuggled her face against hers and used the sleeve of her miko dress to wipe another tear rolling from the young child’s eyes.

“Mommy, I’m…” Moroha sniveled and responded to the comforting embrace by leaning against her mother’s chest and clutching at her dress. “Shhh, my baby. Just tell me what it is.” Kagome leaned her cheek against Moroha’s head and used her fingers to tuck some ebony strains behind her ears. “Mommy… how come… how come I don’t have ears like daddy?” “What??” Kagome wasn’t sure she had just heard right. She shifted Moroha in her arms to look her in the eyes, a smile she couldn’t help appeared on her face, though by the look in Moroha’s face, it wasn’t the reaction she wanted. “What did you just say, sweetie?” Kagome had to hear it again, she couldn’t quite believe it.

Moroha pouted and avoided her mother’s bewildered gaze. “Daddy has such cool ears… why don’t I have them? I have really dumb ears.” “Moroha...” Kagome couldn’t help that a laugh escaped her lips at the end of her name, and she hugged her daughter tightly at the revelation of her so-called distress. She suddenly realized why Moroha had been pulling her hair in apparent triangular shapes in front of the mirror. Had she been trying to make her hair look like Inuyasha’s ears?

“My sweet little girl, is that why you’ve been crying?” Kagome giggled into her daughter’s hair and Moroha squirmed in her hold.

“It’s not funny, mommy!”

Kagome heard her daughter’s still tear-ridden voice and suppressed her laugh, realizing this really was serious for Moroha.

Of all the things I worried my daughter would cry about, this was not one of them.

Kagome sighed and kissed Moroha’s forehead before she put her down and leaned on her knees in front of her, meeting Moroha’s eyes that were still shining from tears and an adorable annoyed look on her face. “Sweetie, your ears aren’t dumb. You have the same ears as me, didn’t you know? You have your mother’s ears.” Kagome smiled and tucked her hair behind her right ear to show Moroha, wondering if her daughter somehow hadn’t realized that before.

But Moroha only pouted further and stared at the ground.

“I don’t care. I want daddy’s ears.”

Kagome saw Moroha’s expression grow more defiant, and she sighed and leaned her head in her hand, wondering how long this would be a thing.

What do I tell her? There isn’t really a nice way to say that it’s impossible for her to have ears like Inuyasha, not when she wasn’t born with them. 

A thought struck Kagome that had her mind temporarily be distracted from her daughter. If she were to have… more children with Inuyasha, would one of them eventually be born with his ears? She tried to picture a baby in her lap with adorable little dog ears peeking out of his or her hair, and giggled fondly at the mental image.  

She was brought back to the present however when Moroha saw her humored face, made an angry turn and uttered: “I’m going to my room!” almost too fast for Kagome to reach out and grab her, but she just made it.

“Now hang on, Moroha. Come with mommy instead.” Another idea hit her, and Kagome’s face lit up.

“I might not be able to give you your father’s ears, but I can give you the next best thing.”

“The next… best thing…?” Moroha sniffed and let her mom take her hand and gently lead her into their hut. Kagome sat Moroha at a straw chair and picked up a bigger mirror she’d also brought from her world that she sat in front of her.

“Now just sit here for a minute while mommy goes to get something.”

Kagome bopped Moroha’s nose with her finger at the request and saw that the little girl still was teary eyed, but intrigued. Her eyes shone with wonder now at what her mother meant by this “next best thing”.  

Kagome was hoping. She really liked this idea herself, but she had no idea if Moroha would. She just had to give it a try.

   Pushing apart the straw door to the part of the hut where she and Inuyasha slept, Kagome went to the corner were some boxes of various contents were stocked, many with more stuff and remnants from her own world that she had periodically brought over in her time travels. The miko pulled out one at the bottom, the layer of dust covering the lid revealing how it was probably years since it was last opened.

She drew a deep breath and pulled the lid off, and a rush of nostalgia engulfed and warmed her as she looked down at her old school uniform. The white and green fabric complimented by a red ribbon by the neck piece brought back memories of her family, her old home, and she had to swallow some tears building in her throat while she gently stroked her hand over the outfit she had once worn every day to this era, and now it had been years since. She was older now, and a mother. Kagome wondered if she could even fit into the old teenage outfit anymore if she wanted to. A solemn laugh escaped her lips at the thought.

Mom. Grandpa. Sota. Buyo. I hope you’re all doing alright.

Kagome ended up staring at the uniform longer than she had intended when she heard Moroha shifting in the chair in the other room and a half curios-half annoyed “Moommmy” reaching her.

“Be right there.”

Kagome’s eyes went to the ribbon, still a bright red after all these years, exposure to the elements and wear and tear. She reached down and untied it, pulled it out and examined its length and form.

Good, it should do.

  Kagome was nervous when she returned to Moroha, holding the ribbon behind her back. Moroha clearly saw her arms hiding something and a smile finally emerged on the young girl’s face, revealing a tiny fang by the corner of her lips.

“What have you got there, mommy? Show me!”

“Just a minute, Moroha. Turn around and look in the mirror first.”

“Okay!”

Moroha excitedly shouted and turned around, her little arms and legs fidgeting in anticipation as her mom came up behind her with an equally excited smile.

“I’ll be doing something to your hair, okay? Now you close your eyes, and don’t open them until I say so. You got that?” Kagome inquired while still keeping her arms behind her, giving Moroha a mock-stern expression in the mirror.

“Aww, really mommy? How long do I have to close them?”

“Till I’m done with what I’m gonna do. It’ll only take a minute, two tops. I promise.”

Moroha’s face became a pout again, but then she saw her mother’s expression become a playfully pleading one in the mirror. It made Moroha realize she wanted to be a good girl right then and listen to her mom. So she closed her eyes and barely contained a squeal when Kagome’s hands gently pulled at her hair and did something that Moroha couldn’t figure out. It involved tying her hair up, she found that out soon enough, but how would that give her her father’s ears? Moroha’s heart dropped a little. What if mommy couldn’t keep what she had told her?

About two minutes passed of her mom pulling and twirling her hair before she finally said the words. “Alright, open your eyes!”

Moroha opened one eye first, nervous for what she would see. Her other eye flew open a second later. Her jaw dropped. Kagome put her fingers to her lips as she smiled in anticipation for what Moroha would think. She didn’t have to wait long as a giant smile soon spread on Moroha’s face, revealing both her fangs. Her eyes sparkled and she leaned towards the mirror while her hands reached up and petted the red ribbon sticking out of her hair, emulating two distinct triangular shapes.

“Mommy… ! I look… I look like daddy!”

Moroha squealed and jumped to her feet on the chair, nearly toppling over so Kagome reached out in case she’d fall, but Moroha didn’t even notice. Her attention was entirely elsewhere.

“Ears! Ears like daddy’s! I have ears like daddy’s!”

She squealed again and finally turned around, jumping into her mother’s arms who barely got to brace herself and caught her with a groan followed by a laugh.

“You like it, sweetie? Your daddy’s ears are made from a ribbon your mommy used to wear all the time while I was younger. So you take good care of it, okay?”

“I will!” Moroha sang in Kagome’s arms and wrapped her arms around her shoulders and cuddled against her neck while she let out an adorably, bubbly laugh that made Kagome’s heart swell and she embraced her daughter back, planting kisses on her dark locks and feeling the ribbon tickling her cheeks as Moroha kept giggling and nuzzling her collarbone.

  A sound of rustling and footsteps from the outside reached Kagome’s ears, and she let out a playful gasp against Moroha’s head, before she whispered “Did you hear that? Sounds like daddy’s home.”

Moroha could barely be contained anymore as her face lit up like the sun and she wriggled in Kagome’s arms to be put down. Her little feet took off towards the straw door as soon they touched the ground and Kagome followed. She had to see this. 

“Daddy!”

“Moroha?”

Inuyasha hadn’t expected to see his daughter come running towards him at such a speed and bent down to open his arms for her, not really noticing the ribbon at first but the ecstatic expression on his little girl’s face.

“What have got you so excited?” Inuyasha couldn’t help a tiny chuckle as Moroha reached him and jumped to his arms, a blush on her face from the joy of seeing her dad again and be lifted in the air by him, and she giggled and snuggled into his robe like she had just done her mom. Inuyasha fussed a little at the sudden display of affection that Moroha hadn’t really expressed to this extent before, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t warm his heart to look down at his daughter cuddled into his arms, an adorable smile on her face while she rubbed against his robe. He just now noticed the red ribbon in her hair, and a quick sniff made him realize it was the ribbon of Kagome’s old uniform. Why was Moroha wearing this all of a sudden? The shape it created was initially lost on him.

“What a nice ribbon you got, Moroha. ‘Your mom give it to you?”

Inuyasha looked over at Kagome now who stood by their hut’s entrance and was going to give her a greeting smile, but his face fell into confusion when he saw his wife looking on them with a humored expression. What was up with her?

Moroha jolted at her dad’s question as if she’d almost forgot what had made her so excited. Before Inuyasha got to ask Kagome what was up with the face, Moroha shifted in his arms and beamed up at him.

“I did, daddy. Look!” she reached her chubby arms up and rubbed at the ribbon, her smile once again revealing two tiny fangs.

“I look like daddy now! I have daddy’s ears!”

“Ehh? … you… what??”

Kagome knew it was coming and had tried to suppress it, but her laugh erupted now at the sight of Inuyasha’s utterly dumbfounded face. The hanyo’s jaw dropped as he stared down at his daughter, and only now realized how her ribbon indeed had the same shape and placement as his ears. Before he realized it, a blush was spreading across the dog demon’s face. He made some indistinguishable noises of embarrassment and bent to put Moroha down, but remained on her eye level.

��S… silly girl..!” he sputtered, only to be met by Moroha still tugging at her ribbon and sporting the proudest smile he’d ever seen.

“What’s up with that, Moroha? Why do you want a ribbon to look like my ears?”

Just like Kagome earlier, Inuyasha couldn’t believe he had heard right.

“Why? Because daddy’s ears are the coolest!” Moroha exclaimed while gesturing to the objects in question that started twitching as Inuyasha’s embarrassment grew further. Moroha saw this and laughed heartily and tugged at her ribbon “ears” again to mimic the movement.

“I found her crying earlier, Inuyasha.” Kagome caught his attention as she’d finished laughing and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

“She was crying, wishing she had your ears. I had to think of something.”

She smiled empathetically at him to wordlessly communicate how adorable their daughter was, but also hoping he’d take the signal to say something nice to her.

Inuyasha still couldn’t contain his blush, but he sighed at Kagome’s hint and reached out his hands to feel at his daughter’s “dog ears”, making Moroha giggle further, a blush returning on her face as well.

“What a silly girl… you already have cute ears, Moroha. But you’re right, they do look like mine.” Inuyasha saw Moroha’s eyes beam with joy at his words and a silent adoration for him, and he cleared his throat and averted his gaze. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but a part of him did feel touched that his daughter wanted to look like the demon part of him to the point she had imitated his ears like this. Not to mention, the ribbon fit Moroha really well too. It only amplified his daughter’s cuteness, even Inuyasha could see that.

  The dog demon peeked over at his wife again to see Kagome giving him a knowing look, as if she knew how touched he felt. He cleared his throat again and shook his head as if it’d rid him of the embarrassment, then lifted Moroha up into his arms again, another squeal from her mouth as he did so.

“Right, my little… “dog eared” girl. How about we go see Miroku and Sango and their kids? They told me they were taking them fishing by the lake today. You might be a little small…” Inuyasha said and lightly tickled Moroha’s belly which resulted in another giggle fit of the small girl, and she grabbed his hand to make him stop and playfully nibbled on it with her fangs.

“… but you like to spend time with Hisui, Kin’u and Gyokuto, don’t you?”

“I do, daddy. We gonna go see them now?” Moroha paused her nibbling at his fingers to ask.

“Well, if you and your mom want to.”

“Sure we do.” Kagome smiled from where she stood and watched as Moroha’s eyes glinted with excitement before she went back to test her fangs on her dad’s hand which finally caused an “Ow!” from Inuyasha and a mock-scolding, a humored smile on his face as he did so that Moroha answered with her own mischievous smile.

    Kagome took in the moment of watching Inuyasha and their daughter embracing and teasing each other, an unspoken and endless love in their eyes for the other, and felt as if her heart would burst. Almost without realizing, she had folded her hands in front of her mouth, her eyes watering at the immense love and gratitude she was feeling at this very moment.   Hands still folded and an almost melancholy feeling hitting her that Kagome tried to ignore, she prayed to whatever God existed that nothing would ever happen to take this happiness away from them.

[cocovikings23]

New Start - Chapter 2 (Modern Ivar x Reader)

This is a new chapter. Again, I’m sorry for my bad english :)

Chapter 2: First day

You woke up very early this morning despite the fact that you had a horrible night. You saw all the hours scrolling by on your smartphone and all because of what? This morning is your first day of work at Ragnar & Sons Corporation.

You decide to dress soberly so as not to draw attention to yourself, you are very discreet by nature even though you have a very strong character. You take your black pencil skirt, a white top with black dots. You thread your stockings before perfecting your outfit of these clothes which cost you an arm. For the make-up, you opt for a purple eye shadow with a light pink tint, a little mascara to raise your long lashes and a gloss color peach. On your last birthday, you were lucky, there's no other word for it, that your friends gave you the pair of Louboutin that you were looking at on the internet. It's fitting that you should wear them today: working in the largest trading company in Kattegat.

After you have prepared yourself properly, you take your small purse, your bag with your laptop and you run out of your apartment to get your Uber which awaits you at the bottom of your building. In the car, you have time to reminisce about that weird interview with Ivar. And especially his last sentence: "I should punish you". Are you going to have a relationship with the boss who fantasizes about his employee? Or is it just a kind of hazing to say that you are well integrated into their company? You can't answer any of these questions, only Ivar can, but of course you're not going to ask him.

After a ride of about fifteen minutes, your Uber will drop you off at your new job. You get out of the car, walk into the main hall, nod to the secretaries aka Miss Kardashian, and wait in front of the elevator after calling him. Behind you, you hear the Kardashian sisters giggling, you turn around and see Hvitserk and Ubbe flirting with them. You look up to the sky and sigh "Those Lothbrocks are real flirts". Hvitserk glances at you and starts running towards you before you get on the elevator. "Hey Y/N, how are you? Ready for your first day? "he kisses you on the cheek. "Yes I'm fine, well a little stressed, I'd say a lot."

Ubbe joins the conversation after leaving the four secretaries in a trance. It is that Ubbe was the spitting image of Ragnar, he is tall, chestnut hair in a bun, a well-groomed beard, she looks soft and silky, eyes of an exceptional blue, but not as much as those of Ivar.

He stood up to you, "You're with us, everything is going to be all right. And while we're waiting for the final layout of your office, you're going to move into Hvitserk's and my office. »

"Oh", you are more than surprised, "thank you I hope I'm not disturbing you too long", you blush. "I hope you're not disturbing us," Hvitserk replied, "it's going to be a change to have female company with us," he elbowed his brother with a wink, Ubbe chuckled shyly.

The three of you enter the elevator, you arrive in a few seconds on the 15th floor, there are more people than last time in the corridors, the staff is shaking all over the place. "He's in a bad mood this morning," says Ubbe pouting to Hvitserk.

"Yes, it's going to be another difficult day," confirms Hvitserk.

"What?  Who's in a bad mood? "You say in a panic, Ubbe puts his hand around your waist to take you to their office. "Come on, we'll explain, but not here, he might hear us.

Their office is as big as Ivar's, there are three desks, two of which face each other and the third is in the corner near the entrance. They are the same color dark wood, there are computers on each of them, pencil pots and on the brothers' you can see a pile of files rather badly arranged. You turn to the last desk, assuming it is yours. You put your stuff on it, Hvitserk waves you to sit on the chair he just brought you. Ubbe clears his throat "You know that our little brother needs a crutch and braces to walk? "You nod slightly, Ubbe continued, "In fact, since birth he has had a bone disease, bones can break into a thousand pieces. He underwent several surgeries to get to this point today. And sometimes, depending on the weather, his state of fatigue or if he is upset, his legs make him suffer. »

"I understand," you looked down, the thought that Ivar could suffer broke your heart, you are confused to feel such feelings of empathy for him.

"And then with women it's complicated, they only see his twisted legs," Hvitserk added. "Hvitty, don't say that, this is neither the time nor the place," Ubbe exclaimed, giving his little brother a dark look, and then he continued, "Well, I think it's time to get to work, Y/N, if you'll take the trouble to sit down," showing you your desk chair.

"Thank you Ubbe, that's nice," you whisper softly. You settle comfortably in your leather armchair, take your laptop and open it. Hvitserk gives you many files for the day's work, he explains between the lines who their collaborators are by adding a few jokes. You sit comfortably in your leather chair, take your laptop and open it. Hvitserk gives you many files  You even assume that he is flirting with you, but you don't pay any more attention to that. You haven't seen Ivar yet and you wanted to say hello to him to thank him again for giving you this work opportunity. You concentrate and quickly get to work.

After a few minutes, Ivar stormed into the room, his face closed and he is very upset about what you can see, "Fucking English people, Ecbert and his son don't make it easy for us !  "he shouted, "Ivar, my brother, what's going on? "Ubbe worried. Ivar sat down on a chair next to his big brother's desk and said, "What's going on is that Ecbert wants to review our agreement concerning the branch we are to establish in England ! This bastard has his conditions before signing the final contract...".

"Let father take care of it, he went there to talk about it with Ecbert and Aethelwulf. Trust him, Ivar," Ubbe reassured Ubbe.

"In any case, we have to talk about it together, meeting at 2 pm in the great hall ! "ordered Ivar, then he gets up, takes his crutch and goes towards the door. He turns to you and says "Welcome among us Y/N, I hope you don't regret it! "he opens the door and leaves.

You didn't have time to tell him anything, all you thought was that your relationship with Ivar was going to be complicated. But nothing frightens you, you tell yourself that he is just a human being, with his good and bad sides, but we are all like that. You just have to get to know him.

The fateful hour of the meeting came very quickly, you take a notebook, a pen and you go into the big room with your two office roommates. The three of you enter, you see Sigurd and Björn already settled in, they greet you with a nod and a broad smile. Hvitserk had already introduced them to you on the day of your interview. Ivar arrives last, still upset, and settles down at the end of the table, like a king leading his kingdom. He signals to his brothers to summarize the situation with the English and the famous Ecbert. You take notes, and remain silent. In spite of everything, you feel an insistent look on you, it was Ivar's, he hasn't taken his eyes off you for long minutes. You thought it was a kind of test to destabilize you, but you remained neutral. You keep taking notes until the end of the meeting. Ivar frees you all to go about your business.

You return to your office to finish the big file you started in the early afternoon. After an hour or two of long concentration, Hvitserk and Ubbe leave the office to go home. They say goodbye to you, Hvitserk, give you a kiss on the cheek before adding "Don't work too late on your first day, don't forget to rest, tomorrow is another day! "while Ubbe is content with a kiss on the hand and a beautiful catalog smile. You laugh and wave goodbye. You hadn't finished your file, you absolutely wanted to close it today.

You've finally finished, it's already 7pm, oh gods, you haven't seen how much time has passed, you tell yourself that you'll probably be alone upstairs when everyone has left. You gather your things, you go to the elevator, you press the button when you feel a presence behind you. You look over your shoulder, he is standing there close to you: Ivar.

"It is not good to wander the corridors alone, Y/N ," he says in a dark tone as he stands next to you.

"I was finishing a file, I wanted to close it today so that I could have peace of mind about the others tomorrow. "you say calmly. The elevator arrives at your level, Ivar waves to let you pass, you enter followed by Ivar.

He presses the button on the first floor, the doors close, the elevator starts to go down.

There is a long silence in the elevator until it reaches the required level, the doors begin to open, you put one foot forward to get out but Ivar takes you by the arm, puts you against the wall, wedges you against his body and kiss you passionately. You are surprised, you realize with astonishment that you are not rejecting him but giving him back his kiss. He stopped it after a few seconds, you are both panting, you stare at each other. Ivar gets out of the elevator, he turns around and says "I hope your first day was satisfactory", then he left.

Oh gods, what shit are you in?

@youbloodymadgenius @therealcalicali @whenimaunicorn @peaceisadirtyword @waiting4inspiration @oddsnendsfanfics @vikings-imagine @zuxiezendler

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

Girl Crush

Chuck Grant x OC (not exactly a happy ending, Floyd Talbert & Luz fluff tho)

She was absolutely beautiful. She drew the attention of everyone in the room, and rightfully so. She was radiant with confidence and charm. Her long, blonde hair quite literally looked like a halo and those perfect cupid bow lips were painted a sumptuous red. She was even wearing real, silky stockings. Where in the hell did she get those, Virginia thought. And of out of all the guys in the room why was she sitting with Chuck?

Sure, Chuck was handsome in that sturdy all-American way. But Virginia had a realistic view of her best friend; he wasn’t the most charming, nor the most outgoing or flirtatious. He was quiet, polite, and thoughtful. Those were some of the many wonderful things about him and reasons why Virginia knew she was falling in love with him. However, they weren’t traits that she thought a bombshell like Adrienne would have picked out of a crowd of dashing young soldiers.

Adrienne was the type of girl that George Luz or Skinny Sisk drooled over, the type of girl Floyd Talbert would sneak away to a corner of the bar.

Of course any guy would have love to have her on his arm, she was perfect. But Chuck was not the obvious choice.

Adrienne was like all the girls Virginia and Chuck had grown up around; California beauties that had never seemed to tempt Chuck before. Chuck wasn’t one to ogle girls on the beach or take them out in his car every weekend. Whenever he had had free time between school or work, he just hung out with Virginia and their other friends.

Their friend Mary got engaged the same month Chuck and the other guys enlisted. There was nothing in California for Virginia once all her friends left so she decided to join the Women’s Army Corp. as a switchboard operator.

Chuck had been so proud of her when she finally qualified. She had walked over to his house only days before he was due to ship out to show him her letter of certification. Right there in his yard, he had picked her up and spun her around.

“I’m so proud of you, Ginny! And now you’ll be able to come with me!”

Butterflies fluttered around her stomach, he wanted her to be with him. “We don’t know where I’ll be stationed or where you’ll be!”

“They have to put us together, I just know they will. I have a feeling.”

He had been wrong, then he had been right. Virginia worked her way up the eastern seaboard while Chuck trained in Georgia. Their letters were constant exchanges between good friends sharing the stresses and challenges of their burgeoning military careers.

Where do you think they’ll send you next?

North Carolina.

I’ve been in New York for a while now.

Big city girl.

Definitely not California.

Where will you go after the war?

California.

Me too.

What will you do after the war?

Wouldn’t it be nice to have a house by the beach?

Very.

We could get houses by each other.

Maybe.

I’ll get a good job, a nice wife, and you’ll find a nice guy.

I’ve already met lots of nice guys.

Not a husband though.

Virginia and Chuck had always been especially close, but Virginia had fallen in love with him through those letters. He was her home and her adventure all in one.

Eventually, he had been right. They were reunited on a troopship destined for England. They had been on the ship for a week before they realized.

I’m on a boat destined for England.

So am I!

The moment she received the letter with his shipment details she had run into the soldiers bunk room to whoops and hollers and shouts of “nurse!”.

“Charles Grant? Officer Grant?” she asked as she forced her way past men throwing baseballs and stretching. They all pointed her in the same direction until she reached his bunk.

“Ginny?” he dropped his cards in shock as she threw herself on his bunk.

“I can’t believe we’re on the same ship!” she squealed. He wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug.

A voice cleared above where they lay unceremoniously embracing, “who’s your friend there Grant?”

A handsome young man with dark brown eyes propped his arm against the steel pole of the bunk.

Virginia quickly got up from Chuck’s cot, smoothing her skirt. Chuck swung his legs around so he sat to face the new arrival.

“Floyd Talbert, meet Virginia Wilson.”

Floyd offered his hand, “nice to meet you.”

Floyd Talbert was a flirt and everyone knew it. But Virginia liked him a lot, they clicked from the very start, which made sense since he was a good friend of Chuck’s. Just like Chuck, Floyd was very polite, and always made a point of introducing his girlfriends to Virginia - at least the girls he would see more than once.

He would sneak down to the switchboard room to say hi or to the officers building where they would rendezvous for a cup of coffee. So would Chuck, and Virginia always looked forward to those surprise chats. Occasionally, Chuck and Virginia would find themselves on breaks at the same time and would go for walks around the base. The rolling English hills made them both homesick and it was nice to have each other to reminisce with.

Adrienne worked as an officers secretary and they would pass her every time they left the officers building. It didn’t occur to Virginia until later that every time Chuck came to see her, he would have passed Adrienne too.

On one autumn evening out, Chuck invited Virginia out to get drinks with him and some of his friends. She knew it wasn’t a date but she let herself get more excited than she should have. She gave herself extra time to bathe, to pin up her hair, and even took the time to apply red lipstick and to draw thin brown lines down the back of her legs. She had the army regulation stockings but the dark line down the back of her calves gave them a more alluring look.

“So who you dressing up for?” Floyd asked over his beer. He and Virginia were the only ones remaining at their table after Chuck got pulled into a game of darts.

Virginia flushed, “who say’s I’m dressing up for anyone?”

Floyd just looked at her, waiting for her to cave.

“I just wanted to look nice, I haven’t been out in a while.”

Floyd just nodded, his eyes searching hers before she broke eye contact.

“Ya know,” Floyd cleared his throat, “he’s been seeing Adrienne.”

The blood ran cold in Virginia’s veins. She knew exactly who he was talking about, but technically he hadn’t said who so maybe it wasn’t Chuck. She did her best to sound nonchalant, “who’s seeing Adrienne?”

“Your boy,” Floyd nodded his head at Chuck, “Chuckie.”

Virginia swallowed hard to keep the lump from growing in her throat, “that’s exciting!” and she did her best to sound excited.

Floyd shrugged, “sure.” He paused, “exciting for him I guess,” Floyd sighed.

If Virginia said anything else she would’ve broke, so she stayed silent. She took a sip of her beer to keep her eyes from welling up with tears.

Suddenly, Adrienne was thrust into her life. Adrienne was sweet and said hi to her every time they passed at work. She was out with them every time that Virginia joined the soldiers for drinks. All the guys loved her because there was nothing not to love! Adrienne was like their own personal movie star; a kind and busty blonde always dressed in a neat suit working for the officers.

At the bars it took all of Virginia’s power not to stare at Adrienne. Her fingers were long and thin, like a porcelain dolls. Somehow, her finger nails were always perfectly manicured with cherry red paint. Was that even regulation? Maybe the secretaries didn’t have to follow WAC standards. Virginia hadn’t painted her nails any color since she left California. The red looked so beautiful curled around the olive drab of Chuck’s arm. Every now and then Virginia would catch Chuck and Adrienne leaving the bar alone together. It was a punch to the stomach just imaging what they might be doing or where they might be going alone like that.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” Chuck confessed to her once on one of their walks. He wasn’t one to talk about his feelings too much, he was always so mellow. Virginia knew that this confession was the rawest, most surface level expression of what he may actually be feeling.

“How long have you known her though, Chuck?” she asked gently.

“I know, not very long, I’m not rushing into anything,” he smiled his little half smile at her, “trust me.”

For the first time ever she didn’t trust him, not regarding Adrienne.

“Hey, drink,” Floyd placed a full beer in front of Virginia, breaking her out of her trance. He took a long drink of his own beer, surveying the room. He had yet to date any of the women in the bar at the moment, which was huge for him. This was his night to find someone new without breaking any hearts.

“Where’s Lucy?” Floyd asked.

“She’s up at the bar.” Virginia gestured to where her friend and co-worker was chatting with Buck Compton.

“Will you be good on your own here? If I socialize?” Floyd asked right as George Luz sat down. 

“All good with George here!” Virginia reassured him.

“Good, ol’ dependable George,” George slurred slightly. However, things were not all good with George Luz, depending on who you asked, because the night quickly took another turn. While the company was divided between the dart board and flocking around Adrienne, George Luz bought Virginia shots of gin.

“Fuckin’ disgusting,” George shuddered as he threw down his third shot.

“I don’t know how they drink it,” Virginia added, recovering from her second.

“Okay, something to wash it down,” George gestured to the bartender.

They drank their beers at the bar and Virginia felt the warm, creeping feeling of the liquor start to take hold on her body.

George finished his beer, leaving only the froth at the bottom, “another?” he asked, his eyes only slightly crossed. Virginia nodded solemnly.

“No more of that gin shit. Two whiskeys neat barkeep!” The bartender raised a suspicious eyebrow at Luz but served them anyways.

“Much better,” Luz smacked his lips. Virginia’s head was spinning now.

“How we feelin’?” Luz asked her. Virginia allowed a wide grin to spread across her face. 

“Feelin’ good, George.” 


She linked arms with George and they traipsed around the bar sloppily greeting friends. They interrupted a game of darts before slumping into a corner booth with Joe Liebgott, Popeye, and Lucy. But George and Virginia were in their own world. They sat cozied up chatting, dumb to the jovial world around them. That’s when Virginia found herself revealing everything to a very sympathetic George.

“I gotta girl like that too,” George sighed.

“Like what? Like Adrienne?”

“I wish,” George slumped in the booth, resting his cheek on Virginia’s shoulder, “nah I gotta girl who doesn’t notice me.”

“Chuck notices me,” Virginia pouted.

“Does he know you like him? Like love him like him?” George slurred.

Virginia considered this, “I don’t think I told him.” 
“Ever?”
 Virginia shook her head. That was a mistake, the world began to spin slightly. She sat up abruptly, trying to steady herself, and consequentially knocked George off her shoulder. Joe and Lucy eyed them cautiously.

The world settled again and Virginia leaned back into the worn leather of the booth. George shifted so that his legs were up on her lap and his head knocked against the corner of the booth.

“I think you should tell him.”

“I don’t know…”

“Just in case,” George encouraged her.

Virginia glanced over to where Adrienne sat next to Chuck, her hand on his thigh. The alcohol had made her weak. Virginia felt the tears begin to prick at her eyes.

“No, no no,” George caught her face in his hands, “no crying! Don’t cry, not unless you’re alone with the guy!”

Virginia sniffed and blinked her eyes rapidly, “okay, yeah, maybe I will say something to him.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll come with you.” George swung his legs off of her lap and they scooted out of the booth.

“Where are you guys goin’?” Joe called after them. George just waived his hand dismissively as he followed Virginia into the crowd towards Chuck.

Virginia reached Chuck with her heart thumping in her ears, this was it. She was going to tell him. But maybe she should do it in private? Would he come with her if she asked him for a private word? Or would he leave her standing there? Panic rose up in her just as Chuck noticed her presence.

“Hey, Ginny,” he smiled sweetly up at her. Virginia tried to focus on him but she was distracted by the redness of Adrienne’s full lips. The woman’s face swam in perfect lines of red and black and blonde in Virginia’s intoxicated vision.

“Chuck - I, could I -“ she stammered. She lost all focus at the sight of Adrienne.

“Are you drunk, Ginny?” Chuck chuckled good naturedly.

“No, kinda, maybe- but actually I wanted-“

“Hey Virginia, I need ya over here.” Virginia hadn’t even noticed Floyd arrive at her side until suddenly he had an arm wrapped around her waist. “Sorry Chuck, just gonna steal her real quick.” Floyd whisked her away, and Chuck didn’t even seem to notice that anything was off. He turned right back to talking to Adrienne.

“Hey sweetheart,” Floyd murmured, “come over here with me.” Floyd sat her down at the back of the bar next to a disgruntled looking young woman. He reappeared in seconds with a large glass of water which he made Virginia drink.

“Let’s get you home,” Floyd said. He helped Virginia into her coat and led her outdoors. The cool air and water helped to sober her up.

“Shouldn’t have left ya alone with Luz should I?” Floyd teased half-heartedly.

Virginia smiled, but the tears were coming again, “I’m sorry for ruining your night, Floyd.”

“Hey, don’t apologize,” he put a comforting arm around her shoulders, “you don’t need to be sorry.”

“I just- with Chuck -“

“I know.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

Floyd was quiet, the sound of gravel crunching beneath their feet filled their silence.

“I think you’re going to have to get over him, Virginia.”

Virginia let one tear drop down her cheek. It ran all the way down her face to the edge of her jaw, where it hung for a moment, before she wiped it away with a gloved hand. She nodded.

“You’re right.”

“I know it won’t be easy, but you’re tough. And you’ve got friends, including Chuck. He’ll always be your friend, and so will I. You’ve got me here until, and when, things are normal between you and Chuck again.”

Virginia smiled and the tears flowed hot down her cheeks. The tears were no longer sad, they were bittersweet. She slung her arm around Floyd’s waist and they continued down the quiet, dark English road back to base.

[vincess-princess]

red lips, fingertips

the stripper!Vince fic i promised to @witchy-tombstone-smile on a condition that she finishes this amazing drawing <3

Word count: 2033 Warnings: language

“Come on, Mick. That’s your day. Have some fun!” Nikki nudged Mick. The stripper in front of them arched his back and winked at Mick. The stripper had flowing ginger hair and wore only very tight shorts. He was gorgeous.

Mick looked at him indifferently and turned away.

“I’m too old for this,” he sighed. It was so strange – so unbelievable – to be here, of all places. To look at men and not be afraid of their attention. Mick didn’t have high hopes regarding himself – he was an old fart reaching his forties – but even watching men ordering drinks to one another, dancing together, embracing each other was making his deeply-rooted paranoia come out of its cage. You’re in danger, the fear was saying. You, and all of them, are in danger.

“Old?” Tommy appeared by Mick’s side. He already had a drink in his hand and a man winking to him from the other corner of the room. “Are you kidding? Everyone loves an older man. Maturity is sexy, y’know.”

“C’mon, man, relax!” Nikki patted his shoulder. “You’re not in the fifties anymore. Everything here is legal and allowed. I’d even say, encouraged.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s safe,” Mick murmured, but did try to relax, breathing in and out, in and out, calming his racing heart. The tension in his body somewhat weakened, but didn’t go away completely.

“Well, look at how many buff dudes we have out there,” Nikki laughed. “They will protect us.”

Mick had already noticed a group of buff bearded dudes in leather and felt even more disappointed than before. The clubbers surely had a wide choice of men to pick up on, and Mick wasn’t included. Compared to most of them, Mick felt frail and old. This was the place for younger people, like Nikki and Tommy. Mick did not fit in.

Nikki went to the bar to grab drinks, and Tommy patted Mick on the back and headed to the man who bought him his drink. Judging by the looks they exchanged, he was going to have quite an exciting night. Mick wished he was half as comfortable with himself as Tommy. But they belonged to different generations.

All the tables near the ginger-haired stripper were occupied, some people were even sitting on the floor in front of the stage. There were two more strippers performing who had a free table or two nearby. Mick wanted to pick a seat somewhere in the back, but the only available place was right in front of a pretty blonde in pink stockings. This one was not like the ginger – maybe not so stunningly beautiful, but more flexible and agile, and his dance moves were more complicated, aimed rather at showing off the talent than attracting men. There was something in it, something Mick liked more than anything else.

Just as Mick was about to sit, the pretty blond spun around the pole, caught Mick’s gaze and smiled at him. Mick knew, of course, that it was just the boy’s job, but the smile still felt like an electric charge went down his spine.

Mick reached for his wallet, opened it and sighed. His band had just lost a vocalist, and he couldn’t tip the boy more than five-six dollars. Still, that was better than nothing. He stretched out his hand and passed the money to the stripper. He saw this and smiled again, this time wider, with more feeling, and Mick thought, to hell with all of this, and took a few more dollar bills out of his wallet.

Their hands touched when he handed the boy the money. The feeling of his warm fingers lingered on his skin for a moment.

“O-oh, Mick, you couldn’t choose a better place,” Nikki laughed, putting two glasses of beer on the table. Mick didn’t pay attention. He was watching. Long blond hair contrasted with the slim tanned body, pink stockings underlined the perfect shape of the boy’s legs, and heels so high only looking at them was making Mick feel sick. But the boy wore them like someone else would wear sneakers.

Mick grabbed the glass and downed it in a heartbeat. Alcohol always made everything easier. Like watching the pretty stripper dance. Mick genuinely liked it, but felt ashamed for enjoying it. It felt like a blasphemy, a terrible violation of privacy. He didn’t believe strippers were doing what they were doing just for the fun of it. There was no fun in putting your body on such a display, in spinning and arching their backs and swinging their hips and accepting rude comments with a smile. Mick didn’t believe that smile. It was only on the stripper’s lips; his eyes remained indifferent and his face looked tired. How old was the boy, eighteen? Twenty?

“Nice ass, baby!” Nikki shouted at the stripper and threw a dollar bill in his direction. The boy bended over, carefully picked the money up and put it into his panties, all of that in the course of completing a hard movement on the pole. He surely was good at dancing.  

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Mick winced. “It’s rude.”

Nikki blinked in confusion. “Rude? Since when do you care about rudeness?” He picked up his glass and took a sip. “It’s a stripper, Mick. He gets that every day.”

“Yeah, I see-“ fuck, what is he even talking about? Why the hell would he worry about feelings of a stripper? – “but you wouldn’t just throw that at a man on a street, would you?”

“Why not?” Nikki grinned. “I might if I see an ass that fine.”

Mick rolled his eyes. Well, it was just Nikki being Nikki. He wanted to say something about behaving in public, but at this very moment Tommy approached their table.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Tommy sat down with them, a drink in his hand. That was most likely his third or fourth one, judging by the way he was staggering on his way to the table. They had barely spent an hour in here…

“Mick chose it,” Nikki snitched. Tommy laughed. Mick wanted to strangle Nikki with his bare hands.

“Well, man, you’ve got a taste,” Tommy smirked. “I like this one even more than the ginger. I mean, the ginger has a fine ass, but the blondie is more flexible.”

“Hey, hey, man,” Nikki nudged him, “leave this one to Mick. Don’t you see how he almost devours him with his eyes?”

Mick immediately looked away, but what was done was done. He felt hot shame burning his cheeks. He was pretty sure he stripper boy could hear their entire conversation. Now Mick wouldn’t be able to look him in the eyes ever again, let alone talk to him. And Mick, unfortunately, wanted to do exactly that.

“Could you two shut up and not spoil my entire evening?” he hissed, squeezing his glass in his hand with so much strength it almost cracked.

“Wow, wow, man,” Nikki’s stupid grin finally switched into a more serious expression, “we’re just fucking around. Don’t take that so seriously.”

“No one’s gonna take your boy,” Tommy said. “Don’t worry.”

“My boy? You talk about him like he’s a fucking thing! Right in front of him!” Mick snapped. He knew this strip club idea was a bad idea from the start, but not to such an extent. Not to the point of dehumanizing a man Mick actually liked. And by whom? By two of his closest friends.

He didn’t look at their guilty faces. He stared at the boy who kept dancing, in a desperate hope to catch his glance. But the boy didn’t look at him. Instead, he looked at the wall behind their backs, seeming to be completely immersed in dancing. Mick couldn’t know what was going on in the stripper’s head, but he was pretty sure there was nothing positive about him.

“Damn, man,” Nikki said, reaching out to touch Mick’s elbow. “We’re sorry, really. We didn’t think it would hurt you.”

“It didn’t hurt me,” Mick interrupted him. “But what about him?” He nodded at the dancer. He didn’t look very miserable, though. Somehow, Mick was pretty sure he could see a smile hidden in the corner of his lips. Whatever he thought of the conversation that was going on in front of him, he liked what Mick said.

“Oh, come on, he’ll be fine,” Tommy winced. “No one has ever died from a compliment.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Well damn, nothing satisfies you, I see,” Nikki sighed. “Okay, if that makes you feel better. Hey you, blondie!” he turned to the stripper. “Sorry for saying you have a nice ass!”

That was the last straw. Mick got up silently and marched towards the toilet, forgetting he still had a drink in his hand.

***

When he stumbled out of the toilet, the blond stripper had already stopped dancing. Now he was sitting at the counter sipping something that looked like whiskey. He had pants on, but they were unzipped. He probably had more to do with the club than just dancing. It was pretty obvious - Mick saw strippers talking to men in the club and leading them backstage.

For a second he indulged himself into thinking what he and the blondie could do, hm, backstage. But then he shook his head, pushing the image out of his mind. He was thinking about a real human being with agency, not a sex toy.

He wanted to approach the stripper, he really did. He had to at least apologize for Nikki’s and Tommy’s crude behaviour. But he wasn’t sure the stripper would see it the same way Mick saw it: a heartfelt apology, and nothing more.

Then the boy raised his head and saw him. The smile that Mick could see in the corner of his lips before now widened, turning into an actual smile. The boy waved to Mick and pointed at the chair next to him.

Something resembling electric shock went down Mick’s spine. He never could have thought such a gorgeous man would be interested in talking to him. Yet the boy seemed eager.

“Hey, I wanted to apologize-“

“No need to!” the dancer’s voice was deeper than Mick expected. His girlish appearance must have confused a lot of people. “I appreciate it. Also, it was fun to listen to. I could barely keep a straight face.”

“Well…” Mick was at a loss, “I’m glad that you’re taking it so easy.”

“Oh, you can’t imagine what I’ve been called in my life. And my ass is great, so your friend wasn’t that wrong.”

“Yeah,” Mick suddenly forgot all the apologies and phrases he prepared while in the bathroom, “he wasn’t. Still, it’s dehumanizing.”

“It is,” the boy sighed. Then he turned to Mick and stretched out his hand. “I’m Vince. You can call me Vinnie, because you’re sweet. But for you friends I’m Mr Wharton.”

Mick shook his hand with a smile. Vinnie then. Nice name.  

“Listen, I wanna thank you.” Vinnie said once they released each other’s hands, the warmth of his fingers sending chills down Mick’s back. “How about a discount?”

“What?” Mick blinked in surprise. Was the boy offering him- “No!”

“Okay, okay,” Vinnie shook his head. “I expected that. Let me at least buy you a drink.”

“Oh, come on,” a new idea suddenly surfaced in Mick’s seemingly empty head, making him inhale sharply. He could do that. He could really do that, because the boy seemed to like him. “It’s me who should be buying you drinks. How about your, erm, phone number?”

Vince giggled. “Wow, you sure take relationships seriously.”

“And you?”

“Not so much. But I like your approach. Phone number it be, then. But promise to call me.”

“Absolutely.” Mick just realized he had nothing to write the number with. The bartender put him out of his misery, handing him a pen with a sly smile.

Vinnie wrote his number on Mick’s right arm, their heads mere inches away from each other. Mick could feel the smell of his shampoo – something flowery.

“Now, I’m gonna dance one more time this night. Will you stay?”

“Definitely”.

[marvels-writings]

I love this blog :) this is a weird idea for a Carol x reader fic, but I wanted to submit it anyway. A reincarnation au where Carol and r: very close before she's back on Earth in 1995. For Carol, r is the one that got away-she died before they could be together. after the snap reunion, Carol meets Avenger!r- r looks dif/acts dif, but both seem to know each other/ r knows things about Carol somehow etc/both feel that the other is extremely important to them=confusing to everyone. Angst/fluff?

(not mine)

Series Masterlist

Carol Danvers (Captain Marvel) Masterlist

Differences (1)

A/N: This has been in my inbox forever, still don’t have much inspiration but here you go

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(Flashback)

You thought you felt your heart stop when you heard Lawson’s plane got shot down. You and Carol instantly took one of the fighter jets and flew to her last location the fastest you could. 

“Lawson, are you okay?” You shouted, jumping out of the cockpit and running to where Lawson was slumped over in the pilot's seat.

Lawson had blue blood flowing from her forehead, she wasn’t breathing. There was a burn mark on her chest, she was dead. Carol followed after you, she was halfway to you when she saw someone approaching.

“We don’t want to hurt you.” A voice stated, you looked up to see a strange man in a laser tag suit with golden eyes walking towards you, gun pulled out of his holster, trying your hardest to stop trembling.

“Really? The dead body kind of gave me the wrong impression.” You shouted back, lifting your gun to eye level, backing away from him slowly until you reached where Carol was standing, gun aimed at the man. 

Neither of you had any idea what was going on, your superior officer had been shot by someone wearing a rubber bodysuit, the same man was probably going to threaten one of you. Today really couldn’t get much worse.

“Just give us the core, and we’ll be on our way.” He reasoned you frowned. The core was supposed to be for a light-speed engine, Lawson wouldn’t want it in the hands of someone who had just murdered her. 

“You mean that core?” Carol asked, gesturing to the core with her gun, he nodded, slowly pulling his gun out of his holster.

You glanced at Carol, to anyone else she would’ve seemed uncaring but brave, but you saw she was terrified. You were about to pull the trigger on the core when you heard a gunshot, something hit you on your side, burning you as you collapsed onto the ground.

“Y/n!” Carol shouted, moving to catch you as you fell, she went on her knees, one hand holding her gun still with her other hand supporting your head, trying to keep you awake, you gave her the best smile you could, the light slowly leaving your eyes as you did so.

“Give us the core and-” He began, Carol barely cared as she shot the core with her gun, the explosion blowing her back, power pulsing through her as she fell backward, the rocks knocking her unconscious. 

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Carol woke up gasping in her bedroom, she sat up instantly, shirt sweaty and heartbeat erratic. The image of you dying ran in her head as she tried to steady her breathing. She knew who you were, but she hadn’t seen you in years, not since you died the day the Kree took her. 

She got off the bed, breathing calmer now as she made her way to the kitchen to find it was already almost 9 am. The memories of last week rushed into her head, the fighting with Thanos, Tony snapping and almost dying, Natasha was still gone. Everything was just getting started, Steve said he was going to find recruits to help. Carol groaned, burying her head in her hands at the thought of needing to train recruits. 

“Danvers, we have a recruit,” Steve stated, walking in with a clipboard in his hands. 

Somehow, he was already dressed for the day, wearing a tight workout t-shirt and Levi jeans, his brown leather jacket on the counter. Carol still wore grey sweatpants and a white tank top. He handed her the clipboard, Carol’s eyes widened a little when she saw your name on the top. You were the person from her dream, but you were dead.

“You know her?” Steve asked when he saw her rapidly flipping through the pages to find out more about you.

“I thought I did,” Carol muttered, running a hand through her short hair. “I knew her before the crash, I thought she died then.”

“Carol, she’s only 27,” Steve stated, Carol looked up at him and frowned, you were almost 6 years younger to her, it didn’t make any sense.

 You had died, yet here you were, you looked different, your skin tone was a little darker, you were a little taller, more muscular, but your eyes still looked the same from her dreams. 

“Recruit is here,” Bruce stated, walking into the kitchen with you behind him. 

You wore a fav/color t-shirt with some patterns, black jeans, black vans with your hair tied up in a high ponytail, a few strands falling out. You looked different from how Carol remembered you, you walked with more confidence than before. You frowned when you noticed Carol staring.

“I’m y/n y/l/n.” You introduced, extending your hand to Steve who shook it, he nudged Carol to do the same after he introduced himself.

“I’m Carol Danvers.” She introduced, shaking your hand. 

Something about her seemed familiar, you couldn’t quite place it, but you felt drawn to talk to her.

“You hungry?” Bruce asked, gesturing to the kitchen which had just been stocked.

“There’s some leftover pasta if you want,” Carol stated, getting herself from coffee.

“How did you know I liked pasta?” You asked curiously, watching her make coffee with a small frown.

“Lucky guess.” She muttered, a memory of you making pasta in her head before she turned back around to see you handing her a carton of cream while telling Bruce and Steve that you’d already eaten.

Carol frowned as she glanced down at the carton of cream, most people assumed she liked her coffee black, but it was the opposite. Half of her coffee was cream, she didn’t understand how you knew that neither did you.

“How did you know I needed cream?” Carol asked, taking the cream and dunking a decent amount in her coffee before handing it back to you. 

You shrugged, as confused as the people around you. 

“Lucky guess.” You joked, waving to Carol as Steve led you to your room.

You were more confused than when you had walked into the compound doors, you had no idea how you knew Carol so well. 

“So why is she here?” Carol asked Bruce once you’d left, he leaned against the counter a little, frowning a little.

“She was a spy for SHIELD who disappeared during the snap, she was supposed to join the Avengers after she somehow got shapeshifting abilities. Steve managed to find files for recruits, she seemed better than the others.” Bruce explained.

Carol frowned, sipping her coffee while she stared outside at the tour Steve was giving you. You were different, the woman Carol remembered was not as confident, you seemed so sure of yourself now, everything had changed, but it was still you.

| Part 2 | 

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @5aftermidnight, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart  , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @marvelbbyx , @wlw-imaginesss let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

A/N: This is a new series, probably 3-4 parts, thoughts?

[omgsquee2001]

I’m Here Now; Nami x Sister Reader

~Nami’s POV~

_______________________________________________________________________

I sighed for about the forth time that day. I was leaning against the railing of the Thousand Sunny, looking out across the ocean, feeling the cool breeze brush though my long orange hair. I was thinking about my little sister, who was related to me by blood. Bel-Mere had rescued Nojiko, [Y/N] and I from the town that was destroyed in the midst of the battle between the pirates and the marines Bel-Mere was stationed under. Arlong and his pirates took [Y/N] away from us when he killed Bel-Mere and we never saw our beloved little sister again. To be honest, I had forgotten about my sister until Luffy, Zoro, Sanji and Usopp saved me from the clutches of Arlong. Said people were doing what they normally were. Sanji was cooking lunch for the crew, Chopper, Luffy and Usopp were playing their normal game of tag on deck, Brook was playing different songs he knew, Franky was doing his SUPPER pose, causing the three players to stop and gawk in awe and Zoro was training, like always. Robin was sitting in her lawn chair, reading her book. She looked up at me.

“Nami-San, is everything alright?” She asked. All the commotion stopped, the crew looking at me with worry behind their eyes.

“I’m fine. Just tired of being on the sea,” I said, not looking at the ravenette. “We should be reaching an island soon, then we can rest and stock up on everything we need.” I said, turning around and smiling. Robin could tell the smile was forced. Luffy smiled and started drooling. 

“Meat! That means we can get more meat, right, Sanji?” He asked as the cook came out with lunch. He nodded. 

“Yeah that’s right,” hearts formed in his eyes and he floated over to Robin and I. “Here you are, Nami-Swan, Robin-Chwan!” He shouted.

I smiled and took the food. I looked up to the sky. ‘I wonder, if I ever did find [Y/N], would she like to join our crew?’ I thought.

_______________________________________________________________________

~[Y/N]’s POV~

_______________________________________________________________________

I sighed and smiled, brushing off the sweat from my forehead, looking at the vast ocean that lay before my cozy home. I had just finished planting more flowers in my outside garden bed and headed inside. I washed my hands to clean them of all the dirt. I poured myself a glass of water, and then walked outside, sitting on the bench on my porch. I sighed and took a deep breath of the afternoon air. The smell of the sea calmed my racing thoughts of the things I needed to do today. The sea reminded me of my older sister, Nami. I didn’t remember much about Nami, except for the fact that she wanted to travel the world and draw sea and land charts. After the Arlong Pirates had invaded, they killed my mother and took me away from my sisters, selling me as a slave. An elderly woman bought me, but then immediately set me free, allowing me to live with her as her granddaughter. Her name was Eve. After Eve died, I still lived in her house to this day, taking care of it and the flowers I had helped her plant many years before, adding new ones once the old ones died. I saw two small figures running up to my house. I smiled. They were some neighborhood kids that I took care of when their father and mother were away. Their names were Leo and Leah, twins. Fear was evident in their brown eyes as they stopped before me. I frowned. “Leo, Leah? What is it?” I asked, standing up and kneeling before the two. Leo was the first to speak. 

“[Y/N]! Pirates are here! They’re at the docks right now!” He shouted. I frowned. Our village had a history with pirates, and not a good one. Most of the pirates that came here were looking only for trouble, only coming here for me. After Eve died, I ate the Element Element Devil Fruit, allowing me to control all the elements. Water, earth, fire and air. This also came along with the sub elements. Because of this, tons of pirates came to our village looking to recruit me or to take me to sell as a slave. I was the villagers’ protector. I faced off against even the most powerful pirates and won. 

“Which pirates? The Kid Pirates? The Heart Pirates? The Whitebeard Pirates?” I asked. Some of the pirates that stopped at our island village weren’t looking for trouble at all. The Whitebeard Pirates and the Heart Pirates had no interest in me or my powers. They had stopped at the village for supplies and rest. They never caused any trouble or hurt anyone. The Kid Pirates, however, were looking to recruit me for my powers. This did not sit well with me. I challenged Kid, telling him that if he won, I would go with him peacefully and with no complaints. But if I won, he would leave and never bother me or my village again. And I won. Leah looked at me. 

“The Strawhat Pirates!” She shouted. My eyes widened. Now these pirates would be trouble. Everyone has heard of the notorious Strawhat Crew. They had defeated the Arlong Pirates, Don Krieg, Tin-Plate Wapol, Sir Crocodile and his Baroque Works Organization in Alabasta. They were known through out the world. And now they were coming to our island? Not on my watch! I looked at the twins. 

“You two get home and stay there until I tell you it’s alright to come out, do you understand,” I asked. They nodded and rushed home. I clenched my hands into fists. I looked to the docks, staring intently at the skull and crossbones with the straw-hat. I narrowed my eyes. “Abatā(Avatar).” My eyes glowed white. 

I slowly walked down to the docks. This should be a piece of cake for me. But then again, the Strawhats did manage to take down the most powerful pirates in the sea. 

_______________________________________________________________________

(A little earlier

Nami’s POV)

My friends and I anchored at the docks of the small island. As we walked down, I noticed that the whole town seemed empty when we walked down the ramp, the villagers peaking out from their windows and doors, keeping them locked. I frowned and fell into step with Zoro and Robin. 

“Does this village seem, afraid of us?” I asked. Robin glanced around and nodded. 

“This place does have a feeling of fear and distrust.” She said quietly. A pebble was thrown at Zoro’s head. He flinched. 

“Ow,” he rubbed his head. The crew stopped and he looked behind him. There were two kids. The little girl was pulling her brother back, trying to run away. The little boy picked up another pebble. Zoro glared at the kids.

“What was that for?” He asked. The boy flinched at the swordsman’s glare, but frowned, putting on a brave face and standing in front of his younger twin, trying to protect her.

“We don’t like pirates here! You’re all nothing but trouble!” He shouted. The little girl pulled his arm again. We looked at the kids in confusion.

“Leo, stop it! We don’t know that they’re actually here to cause trouble, or here for Big Sister.” She said. Leo glanced back at his sister. 

“I don’t care, Leah. That’s what the other pirates did!” He said. Leah sighed. Usopp frowned. 

“Other pirates?” He asked.  The twins ignored the sharpshooter. 

“Let’s just go and get [Y/N]. She’ll handle the situation.” Leah said and the two ran off. I suddenly froze. That name. No, it couldn’t be the same [Y/N]. Was my sister really here? My little sister? It couldn’t be.  A few seconds later, the sea started to churn violently. Usopp and Chopper looked back in fear. 

“Uh, guys, does the ocean normally act this wild?” Usopp asked. Sanji frowned, taking a drag from his cigar and blowing out. 

“Not unless someone has the power to control the sea.” He said. Franky frowned. 

“Looks like we’ll have to prepare for a not-so-supper fight.” He said. I gripped my pole. Robin positioned her arms across her chest. Zoro gripped his swords. Luffy looked clueless as ever, just looking for a place with meat. Sanji was prepared to use his kick. Brook prepared his music to make illusions. Usopp and Chopped held each other, shaking in fear. A girl, about nineteen, walked out from the narrow dirt road. Her [h/l] [h/c] hair was swaying in the wind, her eyes  glowing white. My eyes widened. I recognized that hair. An image of a young girl with [e/c] eyes and [h/c] hair flashed before my eyes. Besides the glow, the girl looked just like my little sister, [Y/N]. I lowered her pole. I slowly walked up to the girl, as to not frighten her. The girl raised her hands and rocks went straight to them. Moving her fingers, the rocks circled the girl’s hands. 

“[Y-Y/N]?” I whispered. The girl’s eyes widened, and she pushed her fists together. Rock formed around me, trapping me. Luffy frowned, finally getting the seriousness of the situation.

“Hey! Let go of our friend!” He shouted. I frowned. I didn’t want my friends to attack this girl, if she was indeed the [Y/N] I remembered. 

“Don’t,” I said. My friends frowned, still ready to attack if necessary. “I’ll handle this.” I said, not looking at her crew. The girl frowned. 

“How do you know my name?” She asked. Her voice was a mixture of her soft voice and other voices, making it sound deep and commanding. I frowned. 

“Do you not remember me, little sister?” I asked quietly. My crew’s jaws fell to the ground in surprise. 

“LITTLE SISTER?!” They shouted, mostly the boys, Robin’s face returned to normal, she smiled. She then realized why I had looked so down. It was because I missed my sister. [Y/N] frowned, then cupped my cheek, then ran her fingers through my long red hair. Her fingertips ran gently along my eyelids, then down my nose then along my lips, taking in all of my facial features. Tears came to [Y/N]’s eyes and the rock cage fell, releasing me. She didn’t move.

“N-Nami? Is that really you?” [Y/N] whispered. I nodded, unable to keep the tears from falling down my face. 

“Y-yes, [Y/N]. It’s really me.” I pulled my sister into a hug. [Y/N] slowly wrapped her arms around me, crying. 

“T-they told me you were dead! T-they said Arlong killed you all! I-I thought I had lost you, Nojiko and Bel-Mere,” [Y/N] sobbed. I cried as well. Tears of happiness and sadness. Happiness in finally finding my sister. Sadness in remembering the kind woman who had taken the three in, calling them her daughters. “I-I was so scared. S-so alone!” She kept sobbing. I smiled, tears still falling. I stroked my sister’s smooth hair. I then uttered the words that Eve had said to her when she had set [Y/N] free, causing more tears to fall. 

“There’s no need to be scared any more. You’re safe. You’re free. I’m here now.” 

Please feel free to reblog my stories😊😊 It will help motivate me to write more🙏🙏😊😊

[laurelleghuleh]

OCAF | Ch. 6 “Homecoming”

Warnings: read the masterlist first and check Ruth’s chart.

Songs: "Hello My Old Heart" by The Oh Hellos, "Broken Bones" by KALEO, "Streets" by Doja Cat.

LEVI'S POV

I couldn't figure out where I was.

I was surrounded by the green hills and a boundless land loomed all around me. Nevertheless, I kept walking in the meadow, without a precise goal. I thought it was a farm. There was a light breeze caressing my skin and the sun was high in the sky.

All of a sudden, I heard a voice. "Levi, my sweet Levi"

"Mom?... Mom... Is that you?"

When I saw her, she was already running towards me with her arms outstretched and her hair swaying in the air. I hugged her tightly, lifting her from the ground and I felt my body naturally responding to hers like I remembered every inch of her.

"Mom..." I whispered burring my face in her hair, placing my chin on her shoulder. For a moment a sweet feeling of peace made me feel light. I felt at home.

"My sweet little angel," she said. I believed I'd forgotten that sound, lost somewhere in my mind... But no, deep down inside of me, I knew it was her.

"Mom..." I inhaled her scent as we stayed like that, embraced. After a while she moved away a little and, staring intensely at me, she started caressing my face and hair.

Her glassy eyes looked all over my face, observing my features, my contours.

Her lips twitched as she tried to say something. I rested my head on her hands and took a breath of relief. I felt so in peace there, in her hands.

Watching her carefully, she was actually different from my memories. Her face was full, her hair strengthened, her expression quiet. She seemed in good health.

"I see you are in shape. I know you're a soldier now" she said "Look at you, all grown up, Levi..."

"Mom..." I kept babbling.

"We don't have much time, Levi. I have something to tell you...Listen to me... Don't be afraid"

"Mom, what are you talking about? I'm not afraid"

"Oh, Levi... Yes, you are... Let yourself go, fearlessly..."

"Mom?"

"Don't be afraid, Levi" As she repeated my name, the sound of her voice changed, altered, and got lower, warmer, younger. Whose voice was that?

"Don't be afraid Levi"

Her face started to blur "Mom, what's happening?" Her features faded away until I couldn't recognize her anymore. Now someone else was in front of me and that's when I saw her "Daphne? Is it you?" I asked. "Don't be afraid, Levi" she said.

A strange sensation flooded all over me. I was still overwhelmed with tranquility, still serene in those hands, even if they were Daphne's. My mother's face seemed to appear again and I was more confused than ever. I shook my head and she disappeared again, suddenly replaced by a blurred image and then definitely by Daphne's features. I attempted to touch her face, trying to stop her from switching. Their voices overlapped "Don't be afraid, Levi"

I finally managed to grab her cheek and her face stopped. Daphne was now in front of me. She was wearing a long, white and plain dress, something like a tunic.

"C'mon Levi, they're waiting for us..." she said taking my hand in hers.

I didn't protest and simply asked "Where are we, Daphne?"

"Stop it with these silly questions and follow me, Levi"

We started running across the lawn, towards what seemed to be a big farmhouse. She repeatedly turned to look at me, smiling and gesturing me to hurry up. Her smile shined brighter than the sun behind her figure. She looked happy and I was at peace.

All of a sudden, the loud noise of the military alarm violently woke me up. What was that dream? As I washed my face in the sink, I tried to rewrite my dreams and rebuild all the pieces of those blurred memories I had.

My mom. Daphne. A farm. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? I had never felt so confused and rested at the same time. After all, sleeping was not so bad.

Fuck, I am late.

I went down to the cafeteria where I found Hange and Daphne animatedly chatting.

"Morning sunshine!" shouted Hange at me. Here we go again.

"Good morning, captain" calmly said Daphne, handing me a warm cup of tea and then sliding on the table a small plate with some biscuits. A faint smile appeared on her face and I politely nodded in response.

"Did you sleep well, captain?" she then added. I knew she was referring to our last encounter. If only she knew what happened in my dreams...

"It's true, Levi, you're glowing today!" Hange stooged her.

I gave both of them a dirty look and then, burring my face in the cup, I said "Yes, thank you, I slept well". If you only knew...

While I was drinking my tea, I couldn't stop thinking that maybe what happened the night before could have been the start of something. We could have been friends, or at least not jump at each other's throats at any time. We could have tried. And yet I still couldn't figure out what that dream meant, and between one cookie and another the images buzzed in my head, to the point that I could no longer stay at the table.

As soon as I was done, I tried to leave, but my attention was caught by their conversation. Hange was trying to convince her to participate in another of her goddamned experiments with the titans. Therefore, I spoke. "Daphne serves me today," I said, grabbing her by the shoulder, urging her to stand up with me, "I'm sorry, four-eyes, next time".

"Ooooh c'mon Levi, didn't they teach you the noble art of sharing?" protested Hange.

I didn't even bother to answer her, while Daphne and I were rushing off. She turned to Hange a couple of times as if to apologize, and I pulled her out of the cafeteria by the arm.

"Thanks for the rescue, Captain" she said smiling.

What is it now? First, she calls me Levi, then captain again?

"There's no need to call me Captain when we are alone. You can call me Levi" I extended her an olive branch "But not in front of the other brats. They'd get carried away" I corrected myself.

"Ehm... Ok, thanks... I'll see what I can do about it... So, what do you need me for... Levi?"

"What?" I asked her.

I had lost track of our previous conversation as I contemplated her face asking me: "You said before you needed me today"

"Ehm...Yeah. Sure. That" I pulled myself back together "So... today we'll train with the 3D maneuver gears. Since you're already pretty skilled with that, you'll help me with the brats. And after that, you'll put them away where we usually keep them"

"Oh, great. I'm looking forward to it!" she said enthusiastically.

"I see you're in a good mood today" I told her.

"Actually, I am in a good mood..." she replied, shyly.

The training went smoothly. Except for some of them. Hopeless cases.

Daphne helped me throughout the whole session. She even showed some tricks to the other cadets. I noticed she had a peculiar way to move her blades. She rotated the blade's grip with only one or two fingers, never losing control of it. Fascinating. Rather fascinating.

When I was on my way out, I walked up to Daphne and I said, "Gather all the devices and bring them down. It'll take you a while. When you're done, meet me for lunch"

She nodded, mimicking a military salute. I almost laughed.

In the meantime, I went to do some paperwork for Erwin and after I headed down to the cafeteria. Later, Daphne joined us and we all started to eat.

At one point burst into the room Hange. She threw herself into our table, crying and breathing heavily. Daphne promptly asked her, "Hange, what's going on??"

"Sonny and Bean" she kept babbling, "Sonny and Bean... somebody killed them... somebody killed them..."

We were all shocked by that news. How was it possible? No one could have killed them without the three-dimensional maneuvering devices...

Erwin rapidly commanded everyone to not move from the cafeteria and ordered his team to patrol the castle.

I turned to Daphne, who was trying to comfort Hange, and I asked "Did you see anything odd after putting the devices back?"

She shook her head "No. I recounted them several times to be sure. They were all there. And when I came back upstairs, there was no one around the hallways. They must have taken one of them while I was already here...".

I trusted her.

"All right..." I sighed deeply "Hange, you can go to your room and calm down. Daphne, if you want, go with her. I'll join Erwin in the research...".

We had already combed half the castle and actually a couple of gears were missing, but there wasn't a shred of evidence of what happened.

Soon after I met Hange, alone.

"Weren't you with Daphne?" I asked her. "I was about to ask you the same thing... When I calmed down, she told me she'd come looking for you, to help-"

It took me a second to understand. You fucked up big time, girl.

I don't know how, but my instinct told exactly where I would have found her. I took my device with me and went quickly down to the basement.

Please tell me you didn't. Please tell me it wasn't you, I kept saying in my mind.

Once there, I found a hatch on the ground half opened and, unfortunately, I realized that I was right. You fucked up big time, Dafne. You fucked up.

I still remembered vividly that time when I rescued her down there and after a while, I heard the noise of a device, her device. There you are.

"So, you decided to get yourself killed today" I said, catching her off guard.

She was about to jump off a manhole after she supposedly had broken its sides to make it wider.

"Levi..." she said, backing away from the hole and then standing up "Levi, wait..." she continued. She looked frightened. You better be.

"You know, I must admit I fell for it, lock, stock and barrel. I believed you... I wanted to believe you. And then... And then you decided to make this huge mistake right under my nose..."

"Levi, it's not what it looks like..." she began to say.

"So tell what it looks like, Daphne? Tell me!" I yelled at her, almost growling.

"I did not kill Hange's titans! I swear! I would never do that to her, you have to believe me..." she shouted, close to tears.

"Really? And you think I'll buy it now?"

"Levi, I beg you. I'm telling the truth. I just took advantage of the situation to run away, but it wasn't me! I'm just trying to get back to the Underground... I just want to see my sister again... just for a second...I beg you Levi..." she cried.

Were you really about to leave? Like this?

"While everyone's looking for the responsible, looking for who stole the device and killed the titans, you thought it was a clever choice to run away. To steal a gear to escape down here? Have you lost your mind?" I ranted as I approached her, through the filth of the slums.

"I didn't steal anything! This device is mine!" she yelled at me "I earned it! I didn't steal it from anyone!" she kept shouting.

"This device? The device you earned by putting out to half the Underground? You mean that device?"

I didn't mean it that way, but I was too angry with her to think straight.

She suddenly attacked me, driven by an uncontrollable rage. She got bloodshot eyes and she was grinding her teeth, in a rage. Not making a special effort, I only parried her punches.

Once she noticed I didn't resist, she eyed me, confused by my reaction. Therefore, she stepped backward and fell down the hole, never looking away from me. And I didn't stop her.

I felt again that strong frustration growing inside of me. I don't know what to do. I never know how to act around her. What should I do now?

I sat there for a while, contemplating the underground from the hole. Its pungent smell came up to my nostrils and brought back to me some memories I thought lost.

You don't even understand what you've just done to me, Daphne. I can't sit here and do nothing. I have to go find her. Now. Before she gets in trouble.

Fortunately, I hadn't lost sight of her and following her, I made my way over the roofs of the capital, thanks to the gear.

She went down the street, covering herself with the cape she was already wearing before. I guess she doesn't want to catch anybody's attention.

So as soon as I touched the ground, I walked around to steal a cape and hide my device and uniform. Luckily, I found a small market stall where, after threatening the owner, I got a pretty big one.

At one point I saw her entering a small road on the left, so I hurried to reach her before I lost sight of her. Where is she now?

Around the corner, I felt a knife at my throat. "Where do you think you're going?" That was her.

DAPHNE'S POV

"Where do you think you're going?" I threatened him pointing a knife on his throat.

As usual, Levi remained calm, even if I had definitely caught him off guard.

"I'm coming with you," he said.

"Forget it" I told him and then got back on my track "You're just gonna get in my way, so get the hell out of here."

"Say whatever you want. I'll follow you anyway" he stated.

I turned around and said "Look, Levi, everybody around here knows who I am, so..."

"Then, we will keep a low profile..." he interrupted me, looking at me with a serious expression painted on his face.

"What do you think you're doing, uh? First, you called me a whore and then-"

"I never said that" he interrupted me.

"Tomayto tomahto" I mumbled as I started to walk away, leaving him back.

He followed me, so I turned back again "Stop following me"

"No" he only said. I rolled my eyes and walked away again. "Then hurry the fuck up" I commanded.

He didn't complain much, but after a few steps, he told me "But I'm warning you, as soon as we're done here, I'll bring you back up to the castle and this is not up for discussion".

"Whatever..." I replied.

However, we were already close to the brothel. Therefore, I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up a ladder, from which we would have had a better view of the building. We put ourselves on the last step. It was rather small for both of us to sit straight and he was literally breathing down my neck. But neither of us seemed to mind it.

"See? Over there. That big mansion. My sisters are there" I said.

"Why such a big place? How many of you are there?" he asked.

"Do you mean my sisters? When I was still there, there were eight of us: me, Abigail, Nina, Ruth, Saejin, Tabitha, Eve and Chadia. Chadia was very old and had a few affectionate clients. She died the year before I left. There are Miss Martha and the Master. His minions, about a dozen, the stableman and many other patrons. On the ground floor, there are two betting rooms. I can't tell you how many people usually hang out there, but not a few, especially at night. Looking at it now, I'd say there are even more than I remember..."

He nodded, analyzing the building "Yes, I already see a dozen only through the windows, four at the entrance, two in front of the gate...What were you thinking, uh? Let's ring the bell and say hello to everyone, perhaps?"

I twisted around to confront him. How dare you...

Turning my face, I realized how close we were. Our eyes locked under the hoods and for a moment I forgot what I wanted to say. I swallowed as I couldn't take my eyes off his. I hate the way he makes me feel.

"So?" he asked me, bringing me back down to earth.

"There is a passage..." I coughed " There's a passage I know that's gonna take us to the back of the brothel. If we're lucky, we might not find a lot of surveillance and be able to get upstairs".

He nodded and once back on the road we descended into a small and old aqueduct and finally we arrived right where I wanted. We hid behind a fence covered with weeds to inspect the building.

"Great. It's packed with these pricks. Lucky us" he commented sarcastically.

"Shut up or we'll get caught" I whispered at him.

"Look, I see someone coming outside..." he told me turning my chin in the direction of the building. At the back door appeared two men carrying a body, a dead body, and throwing it to the ground, next to the trash.

I froze up. That's not possible, I thought. Ruth.

They had thrown that body in the trash, as if it were garbage.

I would have recognized her among a thousand. It was Ruth. My poor little Ruth.

Her ebony skin was covered with pustules and various wounds, her little face was swollen. But I knew it was her. Her figure, her clothes, her hairstyle. It was her. Ruth.

For a moment I felt myself fainting. My head was spinning and my heart was pounding, crushing against my ribcage. "Ruth... Ruth..." I babbled.

Then suddenly, blinded by the pain, I shouted her name, crying desperately.

Apparently, someone heard me and those two men turned in our direction. I suddenly felt Levi picking me up and taking me away from the fence.

"No, Ruth... How dare they... How... Ruth..." I kept talking incoherently, screaming and wriggling in Levi's arms.

I couldn't even properly walk, Levi had to carry me away. I was panting and shaking. I couldn't see straight. The images of Ruth's body thrown out of the door repeated in my mind nonstop. I was only able to whisper her name or "Levi, Levi..." as he continued to carry me away from there.

"I'm not sure but I think they are following us now... Please, Daphne, move" he said still holding me tight under his arm.

"I-I can't..." I managed to stutter. I felt like everything around me was spinning and I couldn't regain my composure. Luckily, Levi was supporting me all the way.

"Ok. Now, they are definitely following us and I have bad news for you. They have the 3d maneuver gear too. We can't afford to pick a fight here. We need to change our route and find a quiet place to use our devices without being seen... C'mon Daphne, you can do it" Levi said.

I was still shaking as Levi suddenly turned right. He had practically lifted my whole body from the ground and as soon as we got there, he gently put me back down.

"C'mon I think we made it..." he whispered.

But at some point, a pair of men came out from an alley and we had to rush and change our route again. We ran away from them, hiding between the flock of people and we made it again in another deserted lane.

"Play along, I think I have a plan" announced Levi.

After getting into another street, Levi suddenly pushed me against the wall. He put his forearm over my head, hooding my figure under his coat. I still couldn't stop panting.

"Levi... Levi" I continued babbling.

"Shh, be quiet, they are coming" he whispered getting closer to me.

"Levi... Ruth is dead, t-that was her body... and she-" I stuttered, still shaking.

"I know, but please Daphne, calm down, calm down..." he said placing his forehead on mine "Shh... they are coming" he kept saying.

"Levi... Levi...I-I...Ruth..." I stuttered.

I was trying to pull myself back together, but everything seemed to blur. I couldn't slow down my breath and all I could feel was a deep pain in my chest. I put a hand on my heart and I whispered again "Levi..."

"Please, shh..." he hushed me again.

I felt one of his hands hooking mine on my chest, he looked into my eyes intensely and all of a sudden, his lips found mine.

My heart was pounding so fast in my chest I could only focus on how soft he felt against my mouth. He was gently pressing his lips on mine, but as soon as I squeezed harder his hand, he inhaled soundly and let a warm breath out of his nostrils. He immediately pulled me in and now we were glued to one another.

It felt so addictive I couldn't allow that moment to end.

As soon as I felt him slightly moving away, with my free hand I grabbed his coat and crushed my lips against his, again and again. He didn't protest and rather lowered his forearm, sliding his hand under my hood, running his fingers through my hair. I felt my knees getting weaker as he parted his lips allowing my tongue to slip inside his mouth.

Nothing else existed, all my senses were absorbed by how intoxicating he tasted.

My hands found his chest and then his neck, so I pushed him even closer to me. I was kissing him like my life depended on it.

A suffocated moan slipped out of my mouth as I felt again his hot breath and he almost lost it. I suddenly became aware of how aggressively he was responding. It felt like he wanted it so badly. As much as I wanted it too. So, I let myself go, completely, and the air got thicker. I felt my cheeks flushing, I was out of breath. None of us dared to break off that kiss. When his hands found my waist, I felt lightheaded. His touch was so gentle while his lips were hungry, possessive, consuming.

All of a sudden, he stopped and pressed his forehead on mine. We eyed each other, both out of breath. Our lips were swollen and our cheeks red. I didn't know what to do or say.

Levi swallowed noisily and then whispered, still pressed against me "I think they're gone. We have to head back now...".